Treatment #12

Caedmon had his 12th laser treatment this past week. But let me back up just a little.

When we found out we were moving to Nashville, I started looking for a doctor to treat Caedmon’s birthmark. I was referred to Dr. E, but was told he’s scaled back on his patient load a lot and he might not accept any new patients. Fortunately, I was given the nurse’s phone number, so I called and talked with her.

We got in.

We met Dr. E in January, and liked him. He’s done lots of laser treatments and has treated lots of kids. He also has a laser in his office, so he would be able to treat Caedmon there instead of having to do it as an outpatient surgery.

Of course, the whole office procedure thing is both good and bad. Good because it’s as easy an office visit – no fasting, no showing up 2 hours early, anesthesia, etc. And of course, that helps the cost, too. Which is nice. But he’s awake. And though he’s getting older and we’d use numbing cream, we weren’t really sure how it would work out. It could’ve been bad.

Plus, Caedmon is older now, and was not excited about the laser treatment. I think part of it is that we’ve taken almost a 2 year break. He hasn’t been as accustomed to dealing with the procedure and its aftermath the past couple of years.

Leading up to the laser treatment last week, we discussed it with Caedmon. He knew it was going to happen, but wasn’t excited. At all. From talking with him, it seemed that he was worried mostly about after the procedure, not the procedure itself. And he really didn’t want anyone to see him with the numbing cream on his face.

It was a difficult few days. But it gave us opportunities to talk about some big life issues. Why we make decisions to do things that are good for us that we don’t really want to do; We don’t always understand why God gives us things like birthmarks; God’s plans for us are good, even if we have things to deal with that we don’t like or understand; That God will never leave us, even if we have to do things that are hard or that we don’t want to do; And that anyone who is a true friend or who loves you, loves you for who you are, and doesn’t care if you have numbing cream or purple spots on your face.

I also had the opportunity and privilege to call on many of our friends and family to pray for us. It is a blessing to have people in our lives that I can send a text, asking for prayer. Or post the request on Twitter and Facebook. Even people I’ve never met “in real life” were praying for us, and I’m thankful for each and every person who lifted us up those few days. 

Treatment day came. And two hours before our appointment, it was time to put the numbing cream on. It doesn’t rub in, and you have to cover it with plastic wrap to keep it on. It sits there until the appointment. Basically, it’s like putting a layer of frosting on your face. It was easier to put on than I thought it would be. But the boy? Did not take it well. He finally calmed down and decided it wasn’t as bad as he thought it would be. And when we got to the appointment early, he even wanted to walk into the electronics store next door.

The appointment was quick. We were completely finished within 45 minutes or so. I stayed with Caedmon the whole time, got to watch the whole procedure, and held his hand during. He wore blackout goggles because the laser was so close to his eyes.

I even got a pair of sweet goggles to wear during the procedure. Aren’t they lovely?

Caedmon did awesome. Seriously, he never even flinched. I am so proud of the way he handled himself. The nurse told him she wished every patient could be as easy as he was. And Dr. E and his resident were complimentary of him as well.

After it was all over, he got an ice pack for his cheek and was all smiles by the time we got to the waiting room to meet back up with Husband and Honor.

Caedmon’s done well, dealing with a purple-spotted face. He’s had moments of feeling sorry for himself, but I can’t really say that I blame him. The bruises are getting lighter every day. Caedmon’s already asking about when his next treatment will be (probably fall). I know it feels to him that the purple spots will last forever and the next treatment will come too quickly. Sometimes I think we all feel that way.

It’s been a challenging few days, more emotionally than anything. As a Mom, it’s hard to watch your kids go through things you wish they didn’t have to. Especially when you made the decision to put them through it. And it’s hard to determine how to let him be a kid about it, how much to let him wallow in self-pity, and how much to tell him to suck it up and deal with it. Also, deciding how much of it is my issue and not his. Finding that balance has been difficult. It’s one that we will have to continue to figure out as we go.

Birthmark Update

I suppose it’s about time for a birthmark update. And this may or may not make any sense - it’s sort of a stream-of-consciousness thing.

Caedmon’s last treatment was in June, before we moved. We saw a new specialist here in the summer. We liked him, but he told us he prefers a more conservative approach. He even thought that Caedmon’s birthmark might possibly be a different kind of birthmark than a Port Wine Stain, but wanted to watch it for a while before deciding. Since Caedmon had already had 11 treatments and LBD had told us we’d be ok to wait a little while for our next treatment, we were fine to follow his suggestion of waiting until January (now) to check it again and see where things stand.

Honestly, in the time between, we’ve kind of struggled with our decision. And his recommendation. Knowing that we’ve come so far with Caedmon’s treatment is super encouraging. But thinking that maybe we are getting too conservative too soon is scary. Because we can’t get this time back, and when it comes to treating a birthmark like his, the younger the better. And we don’t want the last three years of treatments to be in vain.

The Vascular Birthmarks Foundation has a once monthly conference call with birthmark experts. The topic is different every month, and you can send information in about your particular situation and have the doctors discuss it with you. I was privileged to be able to join in a conference call this month with two experts who deal with PWS and Hemangiomas (one of them even invented something now used for procedures just like Caedmon’s). They both agreed that his birthmark is definitely a Port Wine Stain and advised a medically necessary, more aggressive course of treatment than the new doctor suggested. Which in one way was comforting (because we’ve done the right thing with his previous 11 treatments), and in another way, made me want to kick myself for not pushing with this new doctor. I know, they’re just seeing pictures and getting a brief history. But this is what they do every day, all day. The new guy has an excellent reputation as a physician and does treat a lot of birthmarks, but that’s not his main thing.

Fortunately, the birthmark experts on the conference call personally know two doctors in our area that they recommended we see for a consultation. Knowing that we had an appointment with the new guy coming up, we decided to wait and see what he had to say.

We saw the new guy yesterday. We like him. He’s a very nice guy and told us that when it comes to children, he medically treats each patient as he would treat his own child. I really respect that. He said Caedmon looks great and suggested we come back in a year. He also said he’d do a treatment if we really wanted him to, but he doesn’t see an urgency. I appreciate that he will do a treatment if we want him to, but I’m not quite sure what to think about a doctor that says, “I don’t think we should, but I’ll do whatever you want.” But maybe that’s because he’s used to doing a lot of elective procedures. Again, I appreciate his honesty and his approach. But at this time, I really would like to see what someone else has to say.

Because yes, it does look great. And I can’t say it looks any worse than it did 6 months ago, but since the danger with these birthmarks is not always on the surface, that doesn’t mean as much as one might think. The goal is not to make it look better, though that is a pleasant side-effect of treatment. (It’s about time the side-effects of something are pleasant.) The goal is to keep Caedmon healthy and keep the birthmark from affecting things like his vision, hearing, brain, bone structure, and mouth. See? Kind of a big deal.

My dream would be that we could just fly back to Children’s every three months and see Laser Beam Doc for treatments. Which is not really possible if we plan to continue to do things like eat food and have running water.

So our next thing is to jump through the hoops necessary to get a consult with one of the two doctors recommended by the birthmark experts. We’ll see what they have to say. At this point, it will cost a co-pay and the hassle of getting the appointment.

I’ll be honest, this has been one of the hardest parts of moving. New grocery store – fine. New places to find stuff – no big deal. New pediatrician – ok. But new specialist that deals with a birthmark on my child’s face that if not treated properly can cause all sorts of medical issues? Hard. Super hard.

Being a responsible adult and parent isn’t always fun. But I’m so very thankful for this kid. We prayed for Caedmon long before we knew his name or saw his face. I love him to pieces and can’t imagine life without this happy, sweet, thoughtful, loving, goofy kid.

Turn It Up To 11

Yesterday was Caedmon’s 11th laser treatment.

It’s weird to think my child has had laser surgery eleven times. Which means we’ve driven to Children’s at an ungodly hour of the morning, stopped at the same Chick-fil-A and Starbucks, sat in the same chairs, seen the same nurses, answered the same questions, signed the same forms, and waited to hear the same news: “He’s out of surgery and doing fine.” We’ve followed the same blue footprints to recovery and watched the same nurses fuss over how sweet our boy is and giggle over him stuffing his face with the same snacks. We’ve made the same trip home and had the same sense of relief when we pulled into the driveway. Eleven times.

That is not to say our experiences have all been the same, though. There was the time someone else canceled our appointment for us. And the time we had the crappiest surgery time ever. And the time when I met a guy whose daughter was having an unscheduled brain surgery. And the time I took Caedmon for his first 4:30am gas station potty break and we got a resident in trouble.

But today was the first time we went as a family of four. And the first time Caedmon cried, not because of the surgery, but because he missed his sister and wanted her there with him. It broke my heart. And I kicked myself because I had failed to prepare him to leave Daddy and Honor in the waiting room while we went back to pre-op.

And this was the first time we didn’t go directly to our pre-op room. There were lots of surgeries yesterday apparently, so after weight & measurement, we were sent to the playroom until a room opened up. That would’ve been completely fine except that there was someone already in there…with a 1 year-old who was screaming her head off. It didn’t help Caedmon’s emotional state, to say the least. Or mine.

Thankfully, we didn’t have to stay there very long. We made it to our room and put the hospital pajamas on. Our first treatment, those yellow scrub pajamas were so big on Caedmon, we had to roll them up several times. This is what they looked like yesterday.

My boy has gotten big, y’all.

When the nurses in the hallway saw that Caedmon was upset about having to leave his sister behind, they brought him something special to play with.

Have I mentioned how much I love the staff at Children’s? Because I do.

Meanwhile, Honor was hanging out in the waiting room with Daddy.

Ms. D was on vacation yesterday and we again had to convince the resident (not Mr. BYU this time) to mark Caedmon’s face before going back to surgery. I totally pulled out the “Diane says” card, too. I wasn’t afraid. That resident wasn’t leaving that room without marking Caedmon’s face. And he finally gave in and marked Caedmon’s face.

After the resident left, Caedmon started crying. I asked him what was wrong and he said he wanted to see Ms. Diane. I told him we’d take a picture and email it to her and she’d get it when she gets back from vacation. It’s so sweet that he missed her.

The OR nurse that came to get Caedmon knew the origins of his name, which was cool. He went to surgery without a peep. Such a big boy.

When I went back to recovery to get Caedmon, his nurse had gotten him an orange popsicle. He was thoroughly enjoying it, even though he was still pretty droopy eyed.

On the way home, we made our regular stop at Chick-fil-A. Honor slept the whole way, and Caedmon split some screen time between Mike Wazowski and Buzz Lightyear. We made it home in time for the kids to nap and for us to attempt naps.

Laser Beam Doc wants to see him again in three months. Which is not exactly what we expected this time. We were hoping to move to a maintenance schedule after this treatment. But she turned the laser “up to 11” and wants to see if more progress can be made in a few areas before moving to a maintenance schedule. But knowing that we will be moving, she told us we can be flexible – that it won’t be detrimental to his progress if it takes us longer than 3 months to find someone close to our new home, or if we need to go back at Christmas when we come home to visit. Either way, we’ll work it out. I hate to have to find someone else at this point, but I’m very thankful we’ve had access to a fabulous, world-renowned doctor to care for our boy.

Laser Treatment #10

Yesterday was our 10th Laser Surgery at Children’s. Almost like a 10th anniversary, I felt like it should’ve been celebrated with balloons, confetti and some sort of discount. But no such luck.

I’ll be honest. I was completely, utterly dreading this trip. In fact, a few days ago I almost cried just thinking about it. I knew it was going to be hard in more ways than one. And since I’m a grown-up, I have to suck it up and make it happen, even when I don’t want to. I think Husband felt the same way.

In some ways it seems like it’s forever between laser treatments. In other ways it seems like we were just there. Even with the 6 month break we’ve had the last two times, it’s an all-too-familiar ritual of preparing to go (that actually starts two weeks out), the actual trip and surgery, then mentally and physically recovering. I am grateful for the opportunity to go. I am thankful our insurance will pay. I am giddy that one of the best doctors in the entire world is just three hours from us. But I am also weary of the whole process.

And it’s even harder now that Caedmon asks questions and is old enough to understand that he has to go through something he doesn’t necessarily like. He’s big enough to dread it, but not big enough to fully understand why he has to do it. This time, we’ve talked about his hospital trip and my upcoming hospital stay recently, and he got them confused. When we were in our pre-op room, he suddenly started crying. I asked him what was wrong and he said, “I don’t want to stay here.” We never stay. We’ve always gone home immediately afterward. But somehow he got the two hospitals mixed up and thought we were going to leave him there. It was heartbreaking.

And being 33 1/2 weeks pregnant didn’t help anything either.

So here’s how it all went down.

Monday, before I even got a chance to call the surgery center, they called me. That hardly ever happens. Arrival and surgery times were early (both a blessing and a curse), so we made our plans and tried to go to bed early.

We left at 4am Tuesday morning. It’s only our second trip since Caedmon has been potty trained, so we’re still getting used to traveling long distances with a kid who needs to go potty. We stopped an hour after we got on the road for a quick potty break. (I will go ahead and admit right now that I needed that potty break as much as Caedmon did. But he didn’t have someone punching him in the bladder.)

By the time we’d driven another hour or so, I was starting to have what I can only assume were Braxton Hicks contractions. If not, whatever it was, was weird. I drank more water. It helped a little. I ate something. It didn’t help. We were nearing the town where we usually stop for Husband to get coffee, so I took the opportunity to suggest that I needed to walk around a little. And by “suggest” I mean I might have said something like, “I am about to die if I don’t get out and walk around.”

I could barely get out of the car, but once I did, I started to feel much better. I might have done a few calisthenics in the Half-Caf bathroom to get the blood flowing. And while Husband was unhappy with my having to stand in line to get his coffee behind the only two people in the known universe who’ve never been to Starbucks and don’t know what they want, I was thankful for the opportunity to be on my feet for a bit.

Meanwhile, Caedmon had dozed a little bit but woke up when we stopped at Starbucks. He’d been fairly quiet, riding in the dark with the mandate that we were to rest. But with the sun finally coming up, he became a little more talkative and took the opportunity to tell us a few times that he didn’t want to go to his hospital. Great. And to top it off, our last 30-minute stretch was turned into 45 by insane traffic caused by the I-have-a-driver’s-license-but-don’t-know-how-to-merge phenomenon.

We still arrived at Children’s on time, but the waiting room was packed. We stayed out there for a good 30-40 minutes before we went back to a pre-op room, which is the longest we’ve ever had to wait. I’m not complaining, it was just unusual. Most of the time we barely get to warm our seats. I was hoping it was not a sign of how the morning was going for everyone.

Once we got into our pre-op room, things went fairly quickly. Vitals, pre-op nurse, and Laser Beam Doc’s Resident were all there within just a few minutes of each other. And ya’ll, we had the same Resident we had last time. The one I probably got into trouble. The one who wears a BYU surgical cap. (Doesn’t he know we are in the SEC?) The one whom I was sure looked at me and thought, “Yeah Lady, I remember you.”

But apparently he didn’t. Because again, we had to convince him that Caedmon’s face must be marked prior to leaving the pre-op room. There’s just something about that he does not want to do. And maybe he’s not practiced, because he really didn’t do a very good job of it, and even smudged it. Seriously…give me the green marker next time and I’ll do it. But I’ll give him props – he carried on a great conversation with Caedmon this time. Mr. New(ish) Resident mentioned that their first surgery had been canceled, so everyone had been moved up and it wouldn’t be long before they’d be ready for us.

Um, yay.

Except that Caedmon hadn’t had his Tylenol or Versed, aka Goofy Juice yet. And that Versed takes a while to kick in. So we mentioned it to Mr. New(ish) Resident and he said he’d send them in. It wasn’t too long before Ms. D came in to see us. How many times can I say we love Ms. D? And what did she bring with her? A green marker. I told her the Resident had marked Caedmon’s face this time, but that we’d had to convince him. She said she had written in Caedmon’s chart that his face must be marked before leaving pre-op. Apparently Mr. BYU doesn’t read very well. He also doesn’t check on meds very well, because when we told Ms. D that Caedmon hadn’t had his Versed yet, she said, “Uh-oh, we need to get that going quickly.” I didn’t tell her that Mr. New(ish) Resident was supposedly already on that. Why get him into any more trouble? This time, anyway.

We got our meds, but it was only about 10 minutes later when the surgical nurse came and said they were almost ready. She was a hoot, ya’ll. I can’t decide if she was Australian or British, but her accent was super fun. And she was so good with Caedmon. She recognized that he was upset (he’d started to cry but was burying his face in his newly-rediscovered Snoopy), and didn’t push him or try to force anything. She told the OR we weren’t quite ready yet and she chatted with us a bit while Caedmon got comfortable with her.

Finally we could wait no more. Caedmon was still crying some, but it was do or die time. Things weren’t going to get any better, and it was taking a sweet forever for that medicine to kick in. The surgical nurse sang silly songs to Caedmon as we walked down the hall. He cried when we hugged him goodbye, but when I put him on his rolling bed (a feature he’d previously told me that he wishes we had at home) and covered him with a warm blanket, he dried his tears and went like a big boy to the OR, Snoopy clutched under one arm.

He was back for surgery a full 20 minutes early. We thought we’d be out of there in no time. But we waited for 50 minutes before Laser Beam Doc was able to talk to us. We knew Caedmon had been in recovery for a while, thanks to the amazing guy who works the desk, so we weren’t worried. It was just taking her a while to get to us for some reason.

LBD said Caedmon did great, but she hadn’t seen the progress she’d hoped with using the Alexandrite Laser last time. She used the Pulse-Dye laser on the entire PWS this time. She also said she wanted us back in 3 months.

I almost choked. 3 months? In 3 months we’ll have a 2 month-old baby. I was planning on having a bit more time before we had to go back. As in, enough time for her to be about 5 months old and I would feel ok leaving her with someone while we made the trip.  But I suppose it’s not to be.

LBD explained that she felt if we don’t see much progress this time, it would be time to realize that his PWS is as light as it’s going to get, but we will only know that in 3 months. If she sees progress, she’ll “crank it up to 11” and we’ll go again. If she doesn’t see the results she’s looking for, we will switch to maintenance treatments every 6 months to 1 year. Sort of what I was expecting to hear. And sort of not.

They finally called us back to Recovery, where Caedmon had finally woken up and started on a grape popsicle. He was so loopy he could hardly get it in his mouth. Apparently the Versed finally kicked in.

I giggled uncontrollably a few times. It was funny to see Caedmon positively intoxicated by the medicine yet so intent on eating that popsicle and doing his darndest not to make a mess. His recovery nurse was wonderful, as they always are, and she doted on him while we waited for him to finish his treat so we could get ready to go.

Normally by the time we get dressed, he’s pretty much in his right mind. This time? Not so much. We finally managed to get him dressed and gathered our things and left. He was so excited that his promised chocolate shake at Chick-fil-A was soon to be realized. But his slurred speech was almost too much to take.

We drove back to our regular stopping place for some Chick-fil-A for lunch. And I actually had second thoughts about taking an intoxicated-looking preschooler with purple dots on his face into the restaurant when I saw three police cars in the parking lot. But I figured that since Caedmon was still wearing his hospital bracelet, our story might be believable. He enjoyed his chocolate shake…when he could manage to get the straw in his mouth. He was still a bit woozy. But still very insistent that he needed that shake.

The rest of the trip home was rather uneventful. I drove most of the way and was able to keep Mr. Braxton Hicks at bay. My back might be another story, though. I thought naps were in order once we arrived and got things settled. But it was not to be, for me and Caedmon, anyway. Husband was able to get a nap, but Caedmon was so wound up that he couldn’t even be still, much less go to sleep. And if he doesn’t sleep, I don’t rest. Part of being a Mom.

Bedtime wasn’t much better. Caedmon goofed off for a solid hour before he finally gave up and went to sleep. And even though I was sore and tired, I found it difficult to wind down too. Maybe it was the Chick-fil-A sweet tea. (If it was, it was totally worth it.)

Today we’re going to take it easy. Maybe watch our new Bambi DVD. Apparently we haven’t emotionally scarred him enough this week. Let’s bring it on.

Laser Treatment #9

Wow. #9. It’s hard to believe we’ve been to Children’s to see Laser Beam Doc 10 times now (once for the initial consult, 9 times for surgery). It’s been a regular part of our life since Caedmon was 8 months old. And now that we only have to go every 6 months, it is weird. But in a good way.

(A side story: This was the first time we’ve waited 6 months between treatments. Our normally scheduled time to have gone would’ve been at the end of June. Mid-June, Caedmon started asking me if it was time to go to “his hospital.” Normally it would’ve been. I am astonished at how he knew.)

Friday, our day started insanely early. After the day I had on Thursday, I was hoping for some solid sleep. It was not to be. I went to bed Thursday night at 10:30 and slept like poop until the alarm went off at 2:30 Friday morning. It’s like my brain wouldn’t shut off and let me sleep. We plopped into the Silver Sled and left the house at 3am. I would say “bright and early” except that it was very dark and not even the guys who were overly excited about the first day of deer season were up yet.

Even crazy people are more sane than us sometimes.

Caedmon rode quietly in the back seat after he got over the initial, “Look, Momma! The moon!” and “Look, Momma, the tunnel!” I tried to sleep, to no avail. About half way, Husband got tired and we switched out so I could drive the rest of the way. But first I had to pee. Of course. And so did Caedmon. Of course.

Taking a 3 year-old into a gas station to pee at 4:30 in the morning is a new experience for me. It seems that the fluorescent lights are brighter and things are a bit more creepy when there’s a single, solitary guy working behind the counter. I mean, who works at a gas station in in a small town at 4:30am? I’m glad he was there, though. Because I really had to go.

We arrived at Children’s about 6:15am, and it was still dark outside. Caedmon suddenly became Daddy-clingy as we went in.

In regular form, we were through the paperwork and back to our pre-op room in no time. Husband rocked with Caedmon for a while. Then Caedmon and I hung out and watched cartoons while Husband gassed the car and took a little nap. Everyone was sweet and loved on Caedmon, which made it easier for him. He’s old enough to be aware of what’s going on now and got a little teary-eyed a few times when he thought it was time for him to go. He was so tired. We all were.

During the regular progression of things, LBD’s resident came in to see Caedmon and have me sign the consent form. We have been marking Caedmon’s birthmark prior to going back to the OR the last several times. When I asked him about it, he assured me they would mark it after he fell asleep. I told him I really thought they were supposed to go ahead and do it here, but he didn’t want to and didn’t seem to care for me pushing the issue. He also completely ignored Caedmon as he tried to show the doc his (approximately) 73 stickers he’d racked up from the nurses who’d been in to see him. I was thinking two things: 1) he must be new on this rotation; and 2) he’s going to have to learn to talk to kids if he’s going to work at Children’s.

Finally, when Nurse J came to get Caedmon to take him to the OR, she noticed his face wasn’t marked. “Has the Resident not been in yet?” she asked. I told her he’d been in, but wanted to mark his face in the OR. Nurse J said that would not work and she would call him to come mark it. I felt better about life at that point, to be honest. He hadn’t been ugly or anything, but I felt like I’d done this more times than he had.

Apparently, the resident didn’t show up as quickly as Nurse J wanted, so she called LBD’s Specialty Nurse, Ms. D. We love Ms. D. She’s always been wonderful to us and takes great care of us. She immediately began fussing over Caedmon, telling him how much he was growing and what a handsome boy he was. Though Caedmon was a bit loopy from his “goofy juice”, he was pleased to see Ms. D and be loved on.

When Nurse J told her what was going on and that Caedmon’s face hadn’t been marked, Ms. D said, “Oh, that will never do. I’ll be right back.” She came back in just a minute with one of those special green markers and our consent paperwork. As she started looking over the paperwork, Ms. D shook her head. Apparently the resident didn’t do what he was supposed to do…at all. I said, “You’re still training him, aren’t you?” She smiled and said he was in trouble and it wasn’t even 9am yet.

So Ms. D marked Caedmon’s face, then went back over the paperwork with me. Apparently LBD wanted permission to use her new laser, the Alexandrite Laser, on Caedmon’s birthmark if she felt it was appropriate. And Mr. New Resident had neglected to get that consent. Ms. D saying he was in trouble was probably an understatement.

By this time, a second surgical nurse had come in (probably because we were taking so long), so there were three adoring ladies to take Caedmon to surgery. He rode on his bed and we walked beside him. He teared up a bit when we left him at the OR doors, but later Ms. D told me he never cried. He also told me later that he had a good time with the nurses.

LBD did use her new Alexandrite Laser on part of Caedmon’s birthmark. Apparently they’ve found that it’s more effective on the darker places, while the pulse-dye laser is more effective on the lighter spots. Also, the Alexandrite Laser doesn’t leave purple marks like the pulse-dye laser does.

The area on the top is where she used the Alexandrite. He didn’t even have any swelling, which we were expecting. The bottom part is where LBD used the pulse-dye laser we’re accustomed to.

We were leaving for home by 10am and made it home around 1pm. Caedmon played like a wild man and I put him down for a nap around 2pm. I. was. exhausted. Caedmon, however, played in his bed for a half hour before he finally went to sleep. We both got a three-hour nap. It was wonderful, although I could’ve stayed in bed the remainder of the day.

The rest of the weekend was filled with laziness and birthday parties and catching up on the DVR. It took all weekend to catch up on my rest. Hopefully this week will be nice and low-key.

God’s Image. Whose Standards?

Caedmon has discovered his birthmark.

The first time I noticed that he was aware of it was after our last laser treatment. His face was purple-spotted (as it always is after a treatment) and he saw himself in the mirror and said, “What’s wrong with my face?”

In the moment, it was surprising to me, and I didn’t really know what to say to him. I hadn’t really prepared myself for that conversation. I explained that the doctor was helping us with his birthmark and that the dark spots would go away and it would be just like normal soon. He seemed to accept that as an answer and move on.

He asked about it several more times before the purple bruising faded, and seemed to be satisfied with the answer I gave him.

What struck me about it was that as a 2 year-old, he asked what was wrong with his face. I know he looks at other kids and doesn’t see anyone else that’s “like” him in that respect. And I know that as a culture (and as regular people), we see things that are not like others as “wrong.” Not necessarily in a bad way, but they’re just not “right.”

People have commented about Caedmon’s PWS or asked about his treatments with a hushed tone to their voice, as if maybe it’s not something we should talk about in front of him. And I don’t blame them. They aren’t sure what to say sometimes, and aren’t always sure how to approach it. I never want anyone to feel bad for asking about it. But the honest truth is that there’s no reason for us to be secretive or embarrassed about it. It’s not like we could hide it from him even if we wanted to.

Here’s the thing. I don’t ever want Caedmon to feel like there’s anything “wrong” with him because of his birthmark. Because the truth is that God gave it to him. And he was made in God’s image. Now, I’m not saying that God has a mutton-chop port wine stain on his left cheek (Wouldn’t it be cool if He did?), but you get my point. Because Caedmon is created in God’s image, I want him to understand that his birthmark is not a mistake by or a surprise to our Creator.

(I also don’t want to pretend that his PWS is in any way equivalent to the many horrible illnesses and birth defects other children and families have to deal with. Because it certainly is not.)

That being said, I’m really not sure how to reconcile the laser treatments with his little mind. It’s true that we have pursued the treatments for medical reasons, not cosmetic ones. It would’ve been a struggle to decide what to do if it were a cosmetic issue. Because if we believe that God made him perfect in His image, why would we want to change things so that it was pleasing to our eyes? It just so happens that the medical treatment necessary does change the appearance of the PWS and makes it more acceptable to our world’s standards.

And yes, those are some big concepts that his little self probably can’t grasp yet. But I don’t want to be caught off guard again. Because one day a simple, “The doctor’s helping us with your birthmark. It will look like normal soon” won’t cut it. Especially when other kids start asking him about it.

Just last week, Caedmon asked me again about his birthmark. This time, I was a little more prepared. I explained that he had a birthmark on his face and that meant he was born with it. And he was born with it because God gave it to him – especially for him. I then brought him to the computer and showed him the photos that I’ve been taking each month, showing the progress of his treatments. He was able to see himself in pictures with the birthmark, I think, for the first time. Meaning, I think he noticed it in photos for the first time. I showed him how each one got a little bit smaller and lighter. And that the doctor needed to help us with it so he could stay healthy.

He nodded and said, “Otay” and we moved on to something else.

Half of it probably went over his head. And that’s ok. I’d rather provide too much information than not enough. I don’t ever want him to feel ashamed of his PWS. I don’t ever want him to feel like we’re not honest with him about it. I also don’t want to make it a big deal. It’s part of our life. It’s normal to us. And it’s a gift from God.

It’s Wednesday, Ya’ll

I know I totally neglected you (and the entire Internet) yesterday. But it was my one chance this week to spend the entire day at home with my boy and clean and play outside and clean and play outside some more. So that’s what we did. It was marvelous.

Now back to the real world. Today Caedmon has an eye doctor appointment. This will be his 3rd. Because his Port Wine Stain is on his face, we have to watch to make sure it doesn’t cause problems with his left eye. So we saw the eye doc just a few weeks after he was born, and annually since. (It hasn’t affected his eye, by the way.) It’s pretty interesting to find out exactly what’s going on with his eyes (finding out from an eye doctor when they are the “real color” they’re going to be for life and how that happens was neat). Caedmon is a bit farsighted so far (which is normal for babies and little kids). If genetics has anything to do with it, however, he will be terribly nearsighted when he gets older.

Poor thing. Between his Daddy and me, he’s going to need glasses, hearing aids, and probably dentures at some point. If, that is, allergies don’t kill him first.

Oh, the things we get to pass along to our children.

So now I’m getting to recap the rest of our Easter weekend. Nana and Poppy (Husband’s parents) came to visit on Thursday/Friday. It was nice to get to see them, and Caedmon had a blast. Nana and Poppy got Caedmon an Easter Surprise…a set of golf clubs and a kickball. And? The boy loves them both. He’s a great little kicker. But I’m pretty sure his golf-playing style is going to closely resemble Happy Gilmore’s.

Every single photo I have of Caedmon learning to use his new golf set is extremely blurry. Here’s the best I can do. (See? Happy Gilmore stance.)

Searching for a lost ball. (He’s actually somewhat still in this one.)

On Friday, we went to the playground and park. It didn’t last long because of the gale force winds, but we had fun while we were there.

Oh, that’s not all we did. More tomorrow!

Laser Treatment #8

This story was almost a tragedy. When I called on Monday morning to get our appointment time for yesterday, I was told that we “didn’t have to be there” until 10:30. Surgery time was 12:30. PM. Are you KIDDING? Making the boy go without food early in the morning is bad enough, but making him wait until after his lunchtime had the makings of a horror flick. Or at best, a Greek tragedy where everyone dies, albeit with great theatrics and some flowery language.

My mind started flashing back to the last time we had a late appointment time and how horrible it was. I immediately began praying. Mostly for myself, I’m not going to lie. And that the miniscule amount of juice we’d be able to give Caedmon until 9:30am would multiply in his little tummy and make it full.

And? This would be our first treatment without the bah since I waited until after the last one to get rid of it.

(A totally unrelated note: Caedmon still asks for the blasted paci now and then. And I am ashamed to say I’ve been tempted a few times to give him one. He seems to be letting go of his nite-nite on his own, though. Weird kid.)

And then the clouds parted, the sun shone down, and the angels sang. Children’s called back.

“Laser Beam Doc has had a change in her schedule, so I need to give you a new appointment time,” she said.

I gritted my teeth and prepared for the worst.

“You need to arrive at 6:30am. Your surgery appointment will be at 8:30.”

The angels went from singing to humming. Because they knew that an earlier appointment time, while great in many ways, was also going to be terrible in some others. But Husband and I liked it much better than the alternative. One of the very good things about this early appointment time? We’d be home in time for a real live afternoon nap. Maybe for all of us. (Caedmon still doesn’t sleep well in the car.) One of the terrible things? We had to leave by 3:00am to get there on time.

Used to, we would’ve cried at the early appointment time. We started making these trips when Caedmon was 8 months old and still nursing. So, all we had to do was hold him off of solid foods and switch his eating schedule up a little, and we were good to go. It was after he quit nursing that the appointment times became really tricky. We quickly realized the earlier they can get us in, the better. The boy does not like to be deprived of food.

So we were up at 2:30am and left at 3:00 Tuesday morning. We arrived a little early (no traffic – I wonder why?) and were checked in immediately.

Caedmon was not a fan of having to change out of his “pabrite bamas” (favorite pajamas) and put the hospital’s pajamas on. So I told him that when we got ready to go home, he could put his pj’s back on instead of the clothes I’d brought. To which he promptly started crying to go home.

We ended up having to wait a bit long, which is unusual, but especially unusual for such an early appointment time. Apparently somebody before us was a slow-poke or something like that. And an entire 9 minutes after we left Caedmon with his surgical nurse, Laser Beam Doc was giving me a report.

It always kills me that we jump through all those hoops for something that just takes a few minutes. But I’m thankful for it.

Anyway, Laser Beam Doc said she was extremely pleased with Caedmon’s progress and wanted to see him for another treatment in…wait for it…6 months instead of 3 months! I can’t tell you how excited we are about that.

We finally got back to recovery, where Caedmon was chugging some juice. He was seriously in need of some sustenance. His nurse, Ms. K, said, “I think I’ve had this sweet boy before.” When I pulled out the snacks she said, “Oh yes! I remember you, Caedmon, and all your snacks!”

It’s nice to be remembered for something good.

So we hit the road by 10am, headed home. Caedmon watched Toy Story 2 (twice) on the way home. His eyes were still a bit droopy from the Versed (aka “goofy juice”) he got pre-surgery.

We got home in time to let Caedmon play for a while, then take a nap. Thankfully, Husband and I were able to catch naps too. It’s a good thing, because when the boy woke up he was wired.

Again, why do I not remember this and make plans for someone who hasn’t been up since 3am to come over and play with him?

While we were in the waiting room at Children’s during Caedmon’s surgery/recovery, I met a guy (I’ll call him A) from our area. He’d brought his 5 1/2 year old daughter down the day before for a regular appointment while his wife stayed at home with their 12 year old son and the 5 1/2 year old’s twin sister. The daughter A had brought to Children’s has had some major medical struggles in her short little life. The doctors did an x-ray to check on some stints/shunts (not really sure which) in her brain and found out one was not working properly. The doctors told them they had to stay and have surgery the next day. On her brain. With her Mom and siblings still at home.

I sat there, talking to A as he was wearing the same clothes he wore the day before, charging his iPhone due to the kindness of a stranger who let him borrow a charger, and I realized once again how incredibly blessed we are. Even though Caedmon’s treatments are a pain and I complain and whine about the drive, blah, blah, blah, we are incredibly blessed with his overall excellent health and that his “condition” is in no way life-threatening. And the best possible treatment in the world is just three hours from home.

Families like A’s who made 25 trips to Children’s in the first year of their child’s life and whose kids have endured more surgeries than the years they’ve been alive are the ones who have struggles. Yet, his attitude was one of gratefulness. Grateful that Children’s is available. Grateful that the doctor was able to find the problem in his daughter’s brain before it caused problems. Grateful that immediate surgery was not only recommended, but available and possible.

I didn’t get a chance to find out if A was a believer or even get his full name. But I will be praying for his family. I’d love it if you would pray for them too. They are the ones who live each day with the real possibility of a tragedy.

Catching Up

What did we do on our Christmas break? I’m so glad you asked. (This post, by the way, does not adhere to the blogging “rule” for short posts. Because I’m a rebel like that. You might want to grab a snack.)

Husband set up the projector he uses for work so I could use it for the artwork for Caedmon’s wall. But before I got started on my project, he turned on Toy Story for the boy to watch on the “big screen.” Except that he ended up watching it on the laptop the majority of the time.

I worked on Caedmon’s wall art. But I will save pictures for when I get it completed. It might be a while. It’s slow going, but it will be so worth it. (Hopefully!) Maybe it’ll be done by the time he leaves for college.

We went to Children’s Hospital to see Laser Beam Doc for treatment #7. We also saw The Man In The Red Suit before Caedmon’s surgery. I wasn’t so sure Caedmon would be interested in seeing Santa, but he posed for a picture, which he held onto for the rest of our pre-op time. I took a photo of it since I wasn’t sure it would survive the day. It didn’t. He also loved the hat Santa gave him.

We had a playdate with some friends who were visiting from out of town. The boys played together very nicely, though Caedmon hasn’t quite grasped the whole “sharing” thing.

I baked. And baked some more. I was in charge of “a” dessert for our family’s Christmas gathering. Of course, not everybody likes the same thing. And “a” dessert is never enough with our troop, so I made two. Plus a bonus candy. And these Cranberry Almond Bars (again), just for me. I shared a little bit. (I will be sad when fresh cranberries are no longer available, because it will mean that I have to wait a long time to make them again.)

On Christmas Eve, Caedmon got to open a gift. He had a blast with his guitar, and I’m super glad we let him open it early in the day. Because as Caedmon got up from his nap and we were getting ready to head to our Christmas Eve service, I discovered the boy had a fever. Of 103.

That’s right. Apparently we can’t have Christmas without sickness. (Let me interject here that I am totally not bitter about the illness. And there’s no sarcasm there. A little sad, yes, but I am very thankful that Caedmon hasn’t really been sick since the summer, and that we were able to complete our last laser treatment of the year before the Sickness of Christmas ‘09 set in.)

It’s a good thing Santa had already dropped some things off at our house, because the boy and I were up most of the night. Between the coughing, the terrible medicine the nurse at Children’s told me to give him that I’m pretty sure made him puke not once but three times, and the crazy high fever, there wasn’t much sleeping going on. I think Oz is the only one who slept all night. And we all know he needs his beauty rest.

Husband had already set up the t-e-n-t and t-u-n-n-e-l in the living room in anticipation of Christmas Morning. And during one of our frantic illness-induced scurries, I accidentally let Caedmon see it. Because I’m not accustomed to having secret things sprawled out in the middle of the living room floor.

Of course, he wanted to play with it right away. But with the high fever kicking, I think I was able to convince him it was all just a dream. Husband moved it to the kitchen so we could traverse the living room during the night. And traverse it we did.

Christmas morning, Husband and I were up at our regular time, waking up to a White Christmas. It was great. I was a bit sad that Caedmon wouldn’t be able to go out and enjoy the snow. But thankfully, he slept until 9:40. It was a Christmas Miracle. Even if he’d been up until 3am. And he woke up with fever.

And the boy? Even with the fever, he loved the tent, which had made its way back to the living room. We finally tore him away from the tent and tunnel long enough to go through his stocking.We went out to Mom & Dad’s for a little while. Mom wanted a “White Christmas” photo, so we went out into the freezing cold and blazing sun. This was as good as it got.We opened gifts and got to see most of the family. I do believe his favorite thing was Buzz Lightyear. (More on that later.) With fever still, there was no way Caedmon had any business being around his new little cousin Q, so we made ourselves scarce before they arrived. I was really sad they wouldn’t get to meet yet.

But it was home for more time in the tent! And finally a nap. For all of us. Another Christmas Miracle.

With the fever still raging, the night was bumpy, but better than the one before. The next morning, Caedmon again slept until 9:40. And this time, Husband and I did too.

The day also brought a visit from Cini & Papa Duke. I was glad they were able to come hang out for a while and see Caedmon play with his new toys. The fever continued, though.

He finally shook it sometime Saturday night and woke up fever-free on Sunday morning. He was eating again too, which is a big deal. Ya’ll know how much he loves to eat. The fever came back after his nap though, and as I write this (Sunday night), he’s already woken up once asking for “juice” (Pedialyte…love it!) and to be rocked.

We had a nice Christmas, and hope you did too. Yeah, it could’ve been better (i.e., a well child), but it could’ve been worse. It’s really not about the gifts and food, anyway. It’s about the birth of Jesus, and we can celebrate that, sick kid or not.

Because We Obviously Endeavor To Kill Ourselves Or Drive Ourselves Crazy, Whichever Comes First

I’m taking a little break from the trip recap today to tell you about another trip.

Yes, we are crazy to have planned this trip to see Laser Beam Doc and all her magical dwarves the week after three days after returning from a week-long trip. But it couldn’t be helped.

Yesterday was Caedmon’s 6th laser treatment at Children’s. It’s been three whole months since we were there, and it seems like just a short, teensy bit of time ago.

Can you tell I hate the drive down and back?

It’s not really that bad on the way down, usually. But ya’ll know that driving home for 3 hours with a boy who is tired, cranky, and is weary of his carseat doesn’t make for a nice trip.

But this time? This time we came armed with a secret weapon. We’d purchased a portable DVD player.

(Can you hear the angels singing? Because I can.)

Mercifully, we had an early appointment time. As in had-to-get-up-and-leave-by-3am-early. So even though the getting up at 3am stinks, the being done with surgery (so the boy can eat!) by 10am is marvelous. Unlike last time, when we languished in our hospital room well past our 1:15pm appointment time.

He got a few extra marks this time. Before surgery, LBD’s Specialty Nurse drew a dotted line around Caedmon’s birthmark. It seems that because his little cheek gets so rosy when she starts in with the laser, it’s hard to see the rest of the birthmark. So he still has dots on his face and the Resident’s initials, where he marked his cheek too. Hopefully those will wash off soon, though my attempt at bathtime last night was completely in vain.

The afternoon after we got home was rough, even with the calm of the Curious George-induced quietness of the car ride home. We were all glad to see bedtime come around.

And we’ll do it all again in 3 months.

Now for some technical stuff:

LBD said we’re at the 2nd of 3 possible levels with the Pulsed Dye Laser. She doesn’t like to “turn it up to 11” if she doesn’t have to, but feels that perhaps it’s not been quite as effective as she’d like for it to be these last couple of times. Of course, he was probably a bit flushed from screaming when I left him at the OR door, so his birthmark looked a bit bright, I’m sure.

But…LBD told me she’s testing a new laser, called the Alexandrite Laser. She has been pleased with the results she’s seen with other patients, and thinks Caedmon might be a good candidate for the new laser. If and when they actually buy one.

If We Could Harness This Energy, We'd Solve The World's Problems

As I mentioned last week, C was pretty wound up when we got home from our laser appointment at Children's Hospital.

I knew you'd want to see it.

Because I'm intuitive like that.

And because apparently I now think about everything in the context of a blog post.

Insert Catchy Title <Here>

Yesterday was laser treatment #5 at Children’s Hospital for little C. Here’s as much of our day as you can stand.

We ended up with a crappy surgery time: 1:15pm. Which meant that we had to arrive at 11:15am, and C was unable to eat anything all day. And he could only drink juice/water until 10am.

Just in case you were wondering, that didn’t go over so well with the boy.

So we were up and out of here by 7:30am. Here’s a quiet moment in the car, one of the few. Apparently he’s really into his reading.We broke the rules and let C have his paci, or “bah” during the day today. He held onto that thing with all his might. Except for when he was throwing fits, thus throwing the paci.After stopping at PetSmart to kill a little time, we arrived at Children’s about 10 minutes early. Our hineys never touched a seat in the waiting room because we were taken back right away.

But things went downhill from there.

C was quite restless. And hungry. And thirsty. There’s not much that hurts a Momma’s heart like having to tell her boy he’s not allowed to eat or drink when he’s pointing, signing, and begging. And waiting.

And waiting.

We waited a long time. We have been spoiled in the past by Laser Beam Doc running ahead of schedule. This time, however, she was a bit behind.

Our little restless native spent quite a bit of time opening and closing the door to our hospital room, peeking out into the hall, waving at all the nurses walking by and looking out the window (at all the other people who were allowed to eat). All of that was in between throwing fits. Like this one: And trying to watch Curious George on Husband’s laptop or The Penguins of Madagascar on TV.

(Love me some Penguins, by the way.)

(Is it sad that I enjoy little kids’ cartoons?)

(Is it even more sad that I have digressed to discussing my love for animated birds that don’t fly?)

Anyway, a half hour after our scheduled surgery time, C finally went back to the OR, and we went to the waiting room.

My cousin, E, whom I hadn’t seen in probably 10 years, brought his kids up to see us at the hospital. I hate that things were a little upside down and they had to wait for us for so long. But it was good to see him. I also hate that I didn’t think to take a picture, what with all the photo snapping I had been doing all day.

E went back to recovery with me to meet C. A strange way to meet your cousin for the first time, what with the purple spots and all. But C was happy. He was eating. And drinking. Before we left recovery, C had eaten an entire cereal bar and a baggie of dried cherries. He’d also downed a full cup of juice. (Which I was to regret later.)

We left the hospital about 3pm, a full hour after we expected to.

There are no pictures of the ride home. Nor do I have enough appropriate words to describe the tumultuous, unhappiness, and general stinkiness that was those three hours. Let’s just suffice it to say that I was glad to get out of the car.

And when we got home? The boy was wired.

Bedtime couldn’t come soon enough. For him or me.

Oh, but the real tragedy? C is to be restricted on his time in the sun for the next two weeks. And that? That might be worse than anything else.

The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly

Last Friday was our fourth trip to Children's for laser surgery.

Usually our arrival time at Children's is around lunchtime, two hours ahead of an early to mid afternoon surgery time. With a three hour drive to get there, that arrival time is an easy one to make. The bad part is having to deprive C of food for so long, especially since eating in front of him is a big deal now.

So imagine my surprise on Thursday afternoon when we received our call from the surgery center telling us we needed to arrive at 7:45.

Yes, in the morning.

The good: C wouldn't have to go without food for a long time during the day.
The bad: we would have to leave very early. Very. Early.

The ugly: ya'll know I don't like early.

So very early on Friday morning, we were on our way to Children's. I knew that waking C up might be a little bumpy, but figured he would go back to sleep once he got settled into his carseat.

I was wrong.

The good: C was quiet the entire time.
The bad: C stayed awake almost the whole way. He did fall asleep for about 20 minutes, but was awakened by a very snippy, very loud Barista at the Starbucks drive-thru just after 5am.

The ugly: No one should be that loud that early in the morning.

So we were all tired by the time we arrived at the hospital. True to form, we had a very short wait and then were whisked back to get things rolling.

The good: hospital remote controls are cool, and The Disney Channel is even cooler.
The bad: we languished in the pre-op room for the full two hours until our appointment time.
The ugly: there were very few still moments in those two hours. C was afraid he'd go to sleep, so they didn't last long.


The good: I was extremely happy to see C's OR nurse. Because that meant it was time to get on with things.

The good: everything went well, and Laser Beam Doc is very pleased with C's progress thus far. We'll go back again in three months. It seems like his treatment area gets smaller each time, which is very encouraging.

As C was in recovery, I broke out the snacks. He'd only skipped breakfast and it wasn't yet lunchtime, but the boy was starving. While the nurses looked on and giggled at his snack buffet and huge appetite, C ate animal crackers, a cereal bar, several dried cherries, and drained half a sippy cup of juice. (When we got to the car, he polished off an entire Lunchables Jr. and an extra stick of string cheese.)

The good: one of the nice things about such an early appointment time was that we were able to meet Husband's parents for lunch. C was a bit groggy from all the early, all the drugs (anesthesia) and all the food he'd just pounded. But it was nice to see Nana and Poppy, even if it was just for a little while.

The good: the trip home was uneventful, but seemed long. We made it home by 3pm, which is another great thing about the early appointment time.
The bad: there was a lot of time in between getting home and bedtime.

The ugly: the last hour before bedtime. It was not pretty, people.

But we made it through, and C is doing great. LBD wants to see him back again in three months.

I guess the good outweighed the rest, and that's what's important.

Laser Treatment #3

As promised, here are some pictures (and color commentary) from our Laser surgery last week.

C was determined to help us get the car packed up before we left for Children's. Nevermind that he's not headed to the garage.

Here we are at the hospital, waiting for our turn for surgery. He's a tired boy! And I think he was bored with watching Spongebob.

And here he is immediately after surgery. His face always looks a bit red and swollen right afterwards, but quickly goes away.

A few days later, I had to pin him down to get this shot of his face.

He's healing well, and we are excited to see what kind of progress this treatment will bring. We're scheduled for another laser surgery in three months.

Oh, and C's learned about self-portraits. He thinks they're cool.

It's Not Sharks With Laser Beams, But Some Ill Tempered Sea Bass Might Work

Even though it's Wednesday, I have no contribution to Works-For-Me Wednesday. I haven't the brain power to figure out what works right now.

Tuesday was a long day, but a good one.

C was up early this morning. Even after staying up a bit late last night, he was up and raring to go by about 6am. Yes, 6am.

I was able to successfully distract him from eating and pump him full of juice, which he rarely gets. He was loving it and chugged a whole sippy cup full before we left.

We hit the road for Children's about 8:30 a.m. And we stopped about 30 minutes from the hospital and took a break. We found a PetSmart that was sparsely populated and let C wander around a bit and check out the animals.

We saw a completely psycho hamster that had literally created a path and packed down the wood shavings in his little pen by constantly running in a bizarre pattern. He was circling the entire time we were there, about 20 minutes. The sign on the glass case said, "Most active at night."

Note to self: NEVER GET A HAMSTER.

So we got back on the road, C chugged more juice, and we arrived at Children's about 30 minutes early. And we were taken back almost immediately. LBD's nurse told us they were running ahead of schedule, and knowing we had a long drive ahead of us and some yucky weather on the way, they wanted to get us and a few other families who live in our area out as soon as possible.

All I had to say about that was, "SWEEEEET!"

Once again, the staff at Children's was wonderful. C's surgical nurse was a guy this time, and he took right to Mr. R. LBD's nurse later told me that Mr. R held C while he went to sleep for his surgery and only cried just a little when we left him at the OR doors.

When we went back to recovery, C was in the arms of the attending doc, who was just commenting on how he'd love to take C home with him. Our recovery nurse, Mr. J, who had an awesome Engligh accent, said he was glad we were there, as he was tired of telling everyone they couldn't have our little C.

Such a charmer, our boy.

After chugging more juice and pounding a ton of snacks, he took a nice nap on the way home. And we were trying to get home before the freezing, nasty weather hit.

Deputy Guy kept an eye on the weather for me, and gave us reports on the way home. We made it home just in time. Not long after we got home, our deck was iced over. And C spent plenty of time running around the house getting all his wiggles out.

We were weary, but pleased with the day. C did very well with not getting to eat, we had great travel, we got our surgery appointment early, and got home before the nasty weather hit.

I'll post some pictures soon. Right now, I'm going to watch Leverage and go to bed.

Oh Yeah, It's My Birthday

Thanks to the zillion people who wished me Happy Birthday here and on Facebook. I could spend all night thanking everyone individually, and I really need to go to bed. So consider yourself thanked and appreciated.

Once again, Husband surpassed all expectations for my Birthday. He sent me an Edible Arrangements bouquet this afternoon, complete with lots of yummy fruit and most importantly, chocolate covered strawberries. And while I knew that he and C were taking me to dinner, I was not aware that my parents and grandparents would be joining us.

It was fun. The grown-ups had fun chatting and C had fun being the center of attention. Everyone's attention. I must apologize to the guy who sat behind us, whoever he is, because C was all about pretending to be shy and play peek-a-boo with him while longingly gazing upon his bread.

As if the boy didn't eat enough as it was. He ate half a loaf of the "leaded" bread (as in smothered in drippy, melted butter), some sweet potato fries, and a few bites of some other stuff. And probably about half of my peanut butter Mess. Oh yes he did.

Needless to say, we let him stay up almost an extra hour to burn off some of that sugar before bedtime. After, that is, he ate a hot dog and stick of string cheese right after we got home. And I will probably regret later that I neglected to give him some Mylicon before putting him down.

But it's good that he filled up. Because when Children's called today (YES! They called me a WHOLE HOUR EARLY! I was in SHOCK!), I found out that our appointment for his surgery is not until 3:15. As in three in the afternoon.

Did you read that? AFTERNOON.

The boy can't eat solids after midnight, and only clear liquids tomorrow morning. And nothing after noon. Do you even know how pleasant that will be tomorrow?

When I mentioned that to the Children's Hospital lady, she said I should let him stay up late, wake him up at 11:30 tonight and feed him, then let him sleep late.

Um, hello. Do you live in the real world, Phone Call Lady? One of those things is manageable. But the other two? Not happening.

So while I try to appease C with juice, water, and 7-Up tomorrow until noon, please think of us and say a quick prayer. For his tummy, my sanity, the doctor, and the roads.

Oh, the roads. Wintry Mix, please stay away until we get home. It would be nice for the weather man to be horribly wrong about tomorrow. The good kind of horribly wrong, not the bad kind.

Sorry, weather guy.

That's It. I'm Officially Old.

Happy Birthday to Me! 30 years ago today, I made my stunning entrance into this world. Ugh, I'm 30. I can't believe it. There are so many things I could say about turning 30.

But mostly, I did my mourning over turning 30 a couple of years ago. Yeah, I know it's weird. But when I hit 28, I realized that the list of "Things To Do Before 30" was going to have many things un-checked. And you know how I am with lists.

It's not that I don't love my life, because I do. I have a wonderful husband and the cutest kid in the world. But it's hard for a Type-A like me to let go of some things like that.

But since I've had two years to get over it, I'm pretty much ok. I think.

On the upside, my boys are taking me out to dinner tonight. It will be very nice to eat a meal I didn't have to shop for, cook, or clean up after. Although lately Husband has been very helpful in the kitchen, it's still nice to not have to mess with it.

And as far as my gift goes, I got that a few weeks ago. I asked Husband if he might like to purchase a few pieces of my Fontanini Nativity set for my birthday. He agreed, and I chose a few and added them to the collection that is currently on top of the entertainment center.

Yes, on top of the entertainment center. You must be very tall or use your imagination a little. Because where else am I going to display fun things like that without little hands all over them? A photo will be forthcoming for BooMama's Third Annual Christmas Tour Of Homes next Monday.

Tomorrow, we are scheduled to take C to Children's for another laser treatment with Laser Beam Doc. I am praying that when I call to get our time for tomorrow, it will be early.

Because it would be nice to get home before the "wintry mix" starts tomorrow night. In fact, I may have to have our family weather man, Deputy Guy, on call to give me status reports on the road as we are heading home. I do NOT want to get stuck coming over the mountain like so many others did the last time we had a little questionable weather.

And because the less time I have to let C wither away into nothingness from not being allowed to eat, the better.

Those two blueberry waffles, fruit, and yogurt he ate for breakfast this morning will probably be missed tomorrow. The boy likes to eat.

I'm also praying that C's bout with the Teething Monster, ear infection and snot will not hamper his ability to have this procedure. Because if they deem him too "unwell" to keep our appointment tomorrow, this will be one unhappy 30 year-old Mommy.

And unhappy Mommies in general are not good. But get them on their 30th birthday, and it will be bad. For everyone.