Lucky girl! Miri got to see two doctors in one day! The first was the aforementioned ophthalmologist (DANG! I'm getting so good at spelling that one! I did it on the first try!). The second was the pediatrician. Miriam got more immunizations yesterday (poor girl can't catch a break ... she's getting poked and prodded by everyone, it seems) and her 1-year checkup. Here's how she measured up:
MIRIAM (12.5 months)
Height: 29.75 inches (75th percentile)
Weight: 19 pounds, 5 ounces (20th percentile)
Head circumference: 18.5 inches (93rd percentile)
She still is shrimpy (but if you've seen her at mealtime, you KNOW she's not underfed ... she wolfs down everything in sight), but long and big-headed (as per Grover tradition). I'm still amazed she HAS head circumference percentile.
And because all good parents constantly compare and contrast their children, here are the other girls' stats from about the same time:
ANALEE (13 months)
Height: 30.25 inches (70th percentile)
Weight: 20 pounds, 15 ounces (35th percentile)
Head circumference: I don't have the exact numbers, but it was completely off the charts.
REBEKAH (12 months)
Height: 28 inches (25th percentile)
Weight: 18 pounds, 9 ounces (10th percentile)
Head circumference: See Ana's.
2011-04-12
Miri's procedure, Part V (or "The case of the missing plug")
Since the last chapter of the "Miri's Procedure" chronicles, she has been doing fine. No fever. No ER trips. No middle-of-the-night awakenings. We figured we were in the clear until Miri's 6-week post-op checkup when she would have the punctal plug and tube removed from her left eye.
Miri just had a plug on the bottom since her upper tear duct is obstructed by bone.
Miri just had a plug on the bottom since her upper tear duct is obstructed by bone.However, somewhere along the line, Miri took care of the plug herself.
I'm not sure when, how or where the plug and tube went missing, but I do know that when I pulled her lower lid down Sunday to have a peek at the plug, it seemed to be missing. I called the ophthalmologist's office yesterday, and we went in to see the doctor today.
The good news: Even though Miri somehow got her grubby fingers on that tiny plug and pulled it out early, her eyes appear to be just fine. As long as we can keep her sinus-infection free for the next month or so, she should be in the clear. (A sinus infection would cause inflammation that could close up her lower ducts again.)
The bad news: I have no idea where that plug and tube are. Did she ingest it after yanking it from her eye? Is it hiding in her bedding somewhere? Have the big girls found it and used it as an accessory for their Barbies?
We may never know.
I'm not sure when, how or where the plug and tube went missing, but I do know that when I pulled her lower lid down Sunday to have a peek at the plug, it seemed to be missing. I called the ophthalmologist's office yesterday, and we went in to see the doctor today.
The good news: Even though Miri somehow got her grubby fingers on that tiny plug and pulled it out early, her eyes appear to be just fine. As long as we can keep her sinus-infection free for the next month or so, she should be in the clear. (A sinus infection would cause inflammation that could close up her lower ducts again.)
The bad news: I have no idea where that plug and tube are. Did she ingest it after yanking it from her eye? Is it hiding in her bedding somewhere? Have the big girls found it and used it as an accessory for their Barbies?
We may never know.
2011-04-06
Toothless
Bekah's had a loose tooth for ... let's see ... probably months now. I swear, this was the slowest loosening tooth ever. And in the meantime, she was evolving into a shark--a permanent tooth had sprouted up behind her loose tooth.
Although I told Seth that it couldn't be THAT bizarre (after all, I remember my bottom permanent teeth doing the same thing), he was skeptical at best. Finally I decided that it couldn't hurt to call the dentist's office.
The nice lady on the other end of the phone assured me that it wasn't uncommon for that to happen, but she did recommend that Bekah see the dentist because sometimes when the permanent tooth comes up behind, it makes it difficult for the baby tooth to come out.
Bekah was as happy as a clam as we went to the office. "I might get a tooth pulled!" I didn't tell her what that would entail (blood, pain, etc.) just in case it didn't have to come out today.
But the dentist deemed both front teeth worthy of extraction. So Bekah endured the numbing goop. (See how dentistry savvy I am so know such a technical term?) And then the needle came. She squirmed. She cried. She asked for it to stop. When the dentist came in and started moving the baby teeth around, Bekah could still feel it, so the needle came out again. "Not the needle again!" Bekah shrieked. This time around, it took a little more work to keep her still in the chair.
In the end, she survived the trip and came out better for it. Not only did she get to keep her baby teeth and a packet of gauze, but she also got a balloon, a ring and a snazzy tooth-shaped container to put her baby teeth in (one of which she has already lost).
The gaping holes where her teeth used to be. ::Shiver:: Honestly, I don't know how you do it, Jon (my older brother who is a dentist, for those of you who don't know). Even though she's my beautiful daughter, I REALLY don't like looking at those pits in her gums. Kinda gross.
Minus two baby teeth, but plus one permanent tooth. We hope it moves up where it's supposed to go.
Despite her sobbing at the dentist's office, she's all smiles now.
Although I told Seth that it couldn't be THAT bizarre (after all, I remember my bottom permanent teeth doing the same thing), he was skeptical at best. Finally I decided that it couldn't hurt to call the dentist's office.
The nice lady on the other end of the phone assured me that it wasn't uncommon for that to happen, but she did recommend that Bekah see the dentist because sometimes when the permanent tooth comes up behind, it makes it difficult for the baby tooth to come out.
Bekah was as happy as a clam as we went to the office. "I might get a tooth pulled!" I didn't tell her what that would entail (blood, pain, etc.) just in case it didn't have to come out today.
But the dentist deemed both front teeth worthy of extraction. So Bekah endured the numbing goop. (See how dentistry savvy I am so know such a technical term?) And then the needle came. She squirmed. She cried. She asked for it to stop. When the dentist came in and started moving the baby teeth around, Bekah could still feel it, so the needle came out again. "Not the needle again!" Bekah shrieked. This time around, it took a little more work to keep her still in the chair.
In the end, she survived the trip and came out better for it. Not only did she get to keep her baby teeth and a packet of gauze, but she also got a balloon, a ring and a snazzy tooth-shaped container to put her baby teeth in (one of which she has already lost).
The gaping holes where her teeth used to be. ::Shiver:: Honestly, I don't know how you do it, Jon (my older brother who is a dentist, for those of you who don't know). Even though she's my beautiful daughter, I REALLY don't like looking at those pits in her gums. Kinda gross.
Minus two baby teeth, but plus one permanent tooth. We hope it moves up where it's supposed to go.
Despite her sobbing at the dentist's office, she's all smiles now.Doing better
I'm happy to report that Miriam has been without a fever for a whole 72 hours now. She's definitely on the mend. However, somewhere along the way, we discovered that she had cut another tooth on the bottom. I wonder what could have distracted us from noticing that ...
Here's a picture to illustrate how happy she's been:
While I was making broccoli cheese soup yesterday, Miriam crawled into the drawer under the oven and played with the pots, pans and spoons that were in there. Why were there spoons in the drawer, you ask? Bekah had been asked to put away all the pots and pans she had gotten out for her "band" the previos day, and apparently she put the "drumsticks" away with the "drums."
Here's a picture to illustrate how happy she's been:
While I was making broccoli cheese soup yesterday, Miriam crawled into the drawer under the oven and played with the pots, pans and spoons that were in there. Why were there spoons in the drawer, you ask? Bekah had been asked to put away all the pots and pans she had gotten out for her "band" the previos day, and apparently she put the "drumsticks" away with the "drums."2011-04-03
Miri's procedure, Part IV
This post isn't actually another step in the procedure. In fact, it would probably be more accurate to call it another update of Part III. But a four-hour trip to the ER deserves its own Roman numeral, don't you agree?
Remember Miri's temperature of 104.6? I thought we had reached the upper limit of her fever at that point. However, the following early morning (Saturday at 3 a.m.), she woke up again with a high fever. Our thermometer read 105. We called the ophthalmologist who asked if she showed any signs of seizing. We told him she wasn't. We gave her more ibuprofen, a sponge bath and finally a full-body lukewarm bath. That brought her temp down to somewhere around 101. We put her back to bed.
The next morning, she acted better and felt less fevered. She had her usual morning nap, and when she woke up, Seth retrieved her from the crib. She felt horrendously warm again, so we checked her temp and immediately packed up the kids, dropped the big girls off at Grandma Susan's house and rushed to the ER. Miri's temperature was 106.
Considering our last ER experience, I figured we were in for a long wait. But after we told the receptionist what Miri's temperature was, we went almost straight to triage and then back to see a nurse and the doctor. The Motrin they gave her brought her temperature down, but the doctor was (rightly) concerned with the height of her fever and number of times it had spiked in the last couple of days. He ordered a chest x-ray, a blood test and a blood culture.
The nurse and I hold Miri still on the bed while another nurse takes an x-ray.
Remember Miri's temperature of 104.6? I thought we had reached the upper limit of her fever at that point. However, the following early morning (Saturday at 3 a.m.), she woke up again with a high fever. Our thermometer read 105. We called the ophthalmologist who asked if she showed any signs of seizing. We told him she wasn't. We gave her more ibuprofen, a sponge bath and finally a full-body lukewarm bath. That brought her temp down to somewhere around 101. We put her back to bed.
The next morning, she acted better and felt less fevered. She had her usual morning nap, and when she woke up, Seth retrieved her from the crib. She felt horrendously warm again, so we checked her temp and immediately packed up the kids, dropped the big girls off at Grandma Susan's house and rushed to the ER. Miri's temperature was 106.
Considering our last ER experience, I figured we were in for a long wait. But after we told the receptionist what Miri's temperature was, we went almost straight to triage and then back to see a nurse and the doctor. The Motrin they gave her brought her temperature down, but the doctor was (rightly) concerned with the height of her fever and number of times it had spiked in the last couple of days. He ordered a chest x-ray, a blood test and a blood culture.
The nurse and I hold Miri still on the bed while another nurse takes an x-ray. When the results came back, the doctor was confident that Miriam did not have meningitis, which was the worst-case scenario. He and our ophthalmologist agreed that the fever had probably been caused by an infection that had been already present and "stirred up" during the surgery. (Which makes sense since we had to postpone the surgery in the first place due to Miri's sickness.)
The doctor ordered IV antibiotics, and 45 minutes later, we finally left the hospital.
Seth holding Miriam while she checks out her IV.
The doctor ordered IV antibiotics, and 45 minutes later, we finally left the hospital.
Seth holding Miriam while she checks out her IV.Gratefully, we all slept through the night last night. And although Miriam still had a fever of 100.5 this morning, the acetaminophen brought it down and and she started acting like her cute self. We'll keep praying for her, but we really think (and hope) that the worst of this is behind us.
2011-04-01
Miri's procedure, Part III UPDATE
I figured the day after the surgery (yesterday) would be the worst. Apparently I was wrong.
Miriam had a bit of a fever yesterday, so I took her to a 24-hour care facility since she woke up from her very long afternoon nap after our ophthalmologist's and pediatrician's offices were both closed. The doctor there looked in her ears and mouth and listened to her lungs. He reported that everything looked good and that it's not unusual for babies to get fevers post-op.
Then this morning at 1:30, we awoke to Miri's screams. Seth responded more quickly than I, so he lifted Miri out of her crib and exclaimed, "She's burning up!" I gave her ibuprofen, and Seth and I debated whether one of us should take her to the ER. Instead, we decided to try and lower her temp (104.6°) ourselves by stripping her and putting in a lukewarm bath.
The bath was torturous for everyone involved. Miri screamed like a banshee. I cried. Seth asked if I needed to leave. Then Seth gave Miriam a priesthood blessing of healing. We kept her in the bath a little longer, and then we took her out, dressed her in just a diaper and onesie, and checked her temperature again. We're not exactly sure what it was (we need a new thermometer--her temp ranged from 98 to 101°, according to it), but it had definitely gone down.
I held her for a while in the rocking chair as she snuggled in my arms. The poor girl was exhausted from all the screaming, bathing and fever-having. Eventually, I put her back in bed and she slept until 7 a.m. Remarkably, she didn't have a fever when Seth brought her in to nurse this morning. However, she has one now, so she's been medicated all day, and we're going to go to the ophthalmologist's (INTERRUPTION: That's the first time I've spelled that word correctly without having to use the spell check/suggestions!) office to get an antibiotic later on this afternoon.
Right at this moment, she's acting a little more like herself, but most of the morning she laid around and didn't show much of an interest in anything. We hope she can bounce back to being our sweet, happy little girl soon.
Miri, two days post-op. The bruises have darkened, and she's not as perky. The only thing she's shown much interest in is the camera lens (notice the blobby thumb in the foreground on the left side).
Miriam had a bit of a fever yesterday, so I took her to a 24-hour care facility since she woke up from her very long afternoon nap after our ophthalmologist's and pediatrician's offices were both closed. The doctor there looked in her ears and mouth and listened to her lungs. He reported that everything looked good and that it's not unusual for babies to get fevers post-op.
Then this morning at 1:30, we awoke to Miri's screams. Seth responded more quickly than I, so he lifted Miri out of her crib and exclaimed, "She's burning up!" I gave her ibuprofen, and Seth and I debated whether one of us should take her to the ER. Instead, we decided to try and lower her temp (104.6°) ourselves by stripping her and putting in a lukewarm bath.
The bath was torturous for everyone involved. Miri screamed like a banshee. I cried. Seth asked if I needed to leave. Then Seth gave Miriam a priesthood blessing of healing. We kept her in the bath a little longer, and then we took her out, dressed her in just a diaper and onesie, and checked her temperature again. We're not exactly sure what it was (we need a new thermometer--her temp ranged from 98 to 101°, according to it), but it had definitely gone down.
I held her for a while in the rocking chair as she snuggled in my arms. The poor girl was exhausted from all the screaming, bathing and fever-having. Eventually, I put her back in bed and she slept until 7 a.m. Remarkably, she didn't have a fever when Seth brought her in to nurse this morning. However, she has one now, so she's been medicated all day, and we're going to go to the ophthalmologist's (INTERRUPTION: That's the first time I've spelled that word correctly without having to use the spell check/suggestions!) office to get an antibiotic later on this afternoon.
Right at this moment, she's acting a little more like herself, but most of the morning she laid around and didn't show much of an interest in anything. We hope she can bounce back to being our sweet, happy little girl soon.
Miri, two days post-op. The bruises have darkened, and she's not as perky. The only thing she's shown much interest in is the camera lens (notice the blobby thumb in the foreground on the left side). 2011-03-31
MIri's procedure, Part III (or "The end?")
I'm happy to report that Miriam is alive and well ... um, at least in the process of getting well from her surgery yesterday. I was much calmer this time around since we had already had the dress rehearsal. The anesthesiologist gave her lungs a green light, so the nurses took her back to the operating room as scheduled at 7 a.m.
Miriam hanging out on the baby hospital bed. We kept her entertained with her book and monkey before the surgery.
She also did a bit of exploring before being taken back.
When the doctor was finished, he came out to talk to us. Apparently our kid is even more screwed up than we thought. They couldn't put the tubes in the upper and lower ducts to make a loop because her upper ducts are obstructed by bone that never opened up the way it was supposed to. So, as far as I understand it, the doctor was able to probe through the bone on the right eye in the upper duct, and we put a tube and plug through the lower duct on the left eye.
After that, I don't know anything the doctor said. Miriam had woken up in recovery, and the nurse handed her to me so I could comfort her. I heard something about her possibly needing more surgery later to correct the left eye, but maybe not because some people live whole and happy lives with their upper duct(s) obstructed. I wasn't trying to ignore the man, but I was too wrapped up in caring for my baby.
She was inconsolable and incredibly doped up at first, which is a weird combination. She would squirm and cry, then snooze on my shoulder only to wake up again to squirm and cry some more. After the nurse gave her two different forms of painkiller (IV and oral), she settled down.
Miriam sad and hurting after surgery. She had a drippy, bloody nose for the rest of the day.
Miriam dozing after surgery. Since she hadn't eaten anything that morning, I tried nursing her after surgery; her nose was too stuffy to stay latched on, so we had the nurse fill her sippy cup with apple juice. During her non-dozing moments, she would take a drink from the cup before falling asleep again.
I brought her home, and she slept until about 3 p.m. Then she acted more or less like her cute little self. I could tell she was getting tired after dinner, but I didn't want her napping that late, so we kept her up until 7 p.m., fed her, and put her down for the night.
She woke up this morning at 5:30 crying and with a little bit of a fever. With more ibuprofen and some cuddling and Cosby, she settled down but didn't go back to sleep until her regular morning nap time.
Today was an ordinary day except for the looks I got from people in Winco (I swear, people ... I don't beat my 1-year-old) and Miri falling asleep in my arms while I was visiting teaching.
We'll go back to the ophthalmologist's office to remove the tube in the left eye's lower duct in 6-8 weeks. This time, I won't be too preoccupied to ask the doctor some questions about what happened and what happens next.
Miri, one day post-op. She's swollen and bruised, but she's still smiling (and eating, if any of those crumbs did, in fact, make it into her mouth).
Miriam hanging out on the baby hospital bed. We kept her entertained with her book and monkey before the surgery.
She also did a bit of exploring before being taken back.When the doctor was finished, he came out to talk to us. Apparently our kid is even more screwed up than we thought. They couldn't put the tubes in the upper and lower ducts to make a loop because her upper ducts are obstructed by bone that never opened up the way it was supposed to. So, as far as I understand it, the doctor was able to probe through the bone on the right eye in the upper duct, and we put a tube and plug through the lower duct on the left eye.
After that, I don't know anything the doctor said. Miriam had woken up in recovery, and the nurse handed her to me so I could comfort her. I heard something about her possibly needing more surgery later to correct the left eye, but maybe not because some people live whole and happy lives with their upper duct(s) obstructed. I wasn't trying to ignore the man, but I was too wrapped up in caring for my baby.
She was inconsolable and incredibly doped up at first, which is a weird combination. She would squirm and cry, then snooze on my shoulder only to wake up again to squirm and cry some more. After the nurse gave her two different forms of painkiller (IV and oral), she settled down.
Miriam sad and hurting after surgery. She had a drippy, bloody nose for the rest of the day.
Miriam dozing after surgery. Since she hadn't eaten anything that morning, I tried nursing her after surgery; her nose was too stuffy to stay latched on, so we had the nurse fill her sippy cup with apple juice. During her non-dozing moments, she would take a drink from the cup before falling asleep again.I brought her home, and she slept until about 3 p.m. Then she acted more or less like her cute little self. I could tell she was getting tired after dinner, but I didn't want her napping that late, so we kept her up until 7 p.m., fed her, and put her down for the night.
She woke up this morning at 5:30 crying and with a little bit of a fever. With more ibuprofen and some cuddling and Cosby, she settled down but didn't go back to sleep until her regular morning nap time.
Today was an ordinary day except for the looks I got from people in Winco (I swear, people ... I don't beat my 1-year-old) and Miri falling asleep in my arms while I was visiting teaching.
We'll go back to the ophthalmologist's office to remove the tube in the left eye's lower duct in 6-8 weeks. This time, I won't be too preoccupied to ask the doctor some questions about what happened and what happens next.
Miri, one day post-op. She's swollen and bruised, but she's still smiling (and eating, if any of those crumbs did, in fact, make it into her mouth).2011-03-28
Miriam is 1
Yesterday we celebrated Miriam's first birthday with an ocean-themed party. We wanted to make sure that we made it a night to remember, so we flew out to the coast and rented a yacht big enough to accommodate all 100 of our closest friends and family members. The glass-blowing classes I've taken turned out to be very useful since I wanted to have custom-made centerpieces that reflect different types of oceanic life. The sea turtles proved to be the most difficult to create. I also made a seafood buffet complete with caviar. Miri delved into the seven-tier cake (one tier for each of the seas). The trained dolphins did a marvelous job of using bike horns to play "Happy Birthday" so that we could sing along.
All right, so the above paragraph is all one huge lie. Wait ... that last sentence is a lie. Because the first six words were true.
We did, in fact, celebrate Miriam's birthday yesterday by going to church, letting her take a nap when we got home, eating dinner together and then having the grandparents over for presents and cupcakes. Behold!
Analee and Rebekah help Miriam open her presents while Grandma Susan and Grandpa Dennis watch. (Grandpa had shoulder surgery two weeks ago, hence the sling.) I had to keep retrieving Miri and putting her back in front of the presents; she was too interested in saying hello to everybody.
Analee helping Miriam try on her princess bath towel that Grandma Scott made. Miriam wasn't too interested in wearing the towel. Ana, on the other hand, pranced and swayed in it all night.
Miriam sucking on the bottom of her cupcake. She held this pose for five minutes. Notice the big smear of frosting on her tray along with the drops of dried wax from her candle. Seth had to yank it out of the way when she reached for the flame.
The face of a happy one-year-old who loved her cupcake.
Grandma Scott holding a now clean and undressed Miriam while she plays with the English/Spanish radio she got from Seth and me.
All right, so the above paragraph is all one huge lie. Wait ... that last sentence is a lie. Because the first six words were true.
We did, in fact, celebrate Miriam's birthday yesterday by going to church, letting her take a nap when we got home, eating dinner together and then having the grandparents over for presents and cupcakes. Behold!
Analee and Rebekah help Miriam open her presents while Grandma Susan and Grandpa Dennis watch. (Grandpa had shoulder surgery two weeks ago, hence the sling.) I had to keep retrieving Miri and putting her back in front of the presents; she was too interested in saying hello to everybody.Analee helping Miriam try on her princess bath towel that Grandma Scott made. Miriam wasn't too interested in wearing the towel. Ana, on the other hand, pranced and swayed in it all night.Miriam sucking on the bottom of her cupcake. She held this pose for five minutes. Notice the big smear of frosting on her tray along with the drops of dried wax from her candle. Seth had to yank it out of the way when she reached for the flame.The face of a happy one-year-old who loved her cupcake.Grandma Scott holding a now clean and undressed Miriam while she plays with the English/Spanish radio she got from Seth and me. To see more pictures, click here.
Miriam is scheduled to have her one-year checkup this Wednesday, but I have to reschedule it because she's also scheduled to have her tear duct intubation the same day. So I'll post her weight and height later.
Miriam knows how to say "bye" (and wave), "oo ah" (what a monkey says), "getcha" (which is accompanied by her opening and closing her fists to demonstrate that she wants you to tickle her) and "mom" (which she says if she wants anybody, not just me). She cruises all along the furniture, and she has taken a few steps on her own, but usually she chickens out when we encourage her to walk and crawls instead. She has been able to climb up the stairs for some time now, but in the last few days she has figured out how to go down the stairs as well. She has the most incredibly ticklish feet. Miriam loves to tell people what a fish says (done by pushing the lips together and pulling them apart quickly to make a popping sound) and amuses herself by clicking her tongue on the roof of her mouth.
She's a sweet, mellow little girl who loves her sisters, parents, grandparents and other family members. She also loves her jungle animal blankie and sleeps with it every night; we often find corners of it wet from where she has sucked on it.
Miriam is scheduled to have her one-year checkup this Wednesday, but I have to reschedule it because she's also scheduled to have her tear duct intubation the same day. So I'll post her weight and height later.
Miriam knows how to say "bye" (and wave), "oo ah" (what a monkey says), "getcha" (which is accompanied by her opening and closing her fists to demonstrate that she wants you to tickle her) and "mom" (which she says if she wants anybody, not just me). She cruises all along the furniture, and she has taken a few steps on her own, but usually she chickens out when we encourage her to walk and crawls instead. She has been able to climb up the stairs for some time now, but in the last few days she has figured out how to go down the stairs as well. She has the most incredibly ticklish feet. Miriam loves to tell people what a fish says (done by pushing the lips together and pulling them apart quickly to make a popping sound) and amuses herself by clicking her tongue on the roof of her mouth.
She's a sweet, mellow little girl who loves her sisters, parents, grandparents and other family members. She also loves her jungle animal blankie and sleeps with it every night; we often find corners of it wet from where she has sucked on it.
2011-03-17
The cutest albuterol treatment you'll ever witness
How to keep your kid from screaming through a whole treatment: Hold both her hands in your own. Turn on some Baby Einsteins for her to watch. The end.2011-03-16
Getting my craft on
Lately I've been inspired by some craft blogs to pull out some of my scrap fabric and create ... stuff. Here's what happened:
Ana in a twirly circle skirt (instructions found here) made with the leftover fabric from her shirt. That's right. I made all three girls matching shirts months ago, and just now I used the rest of it for a skirt for Ana.
The skirt in all its twirly glory.
Bekah in a pillowcase dress (instructions found on various websites after I Googled "pillowcase dress") made from ... no, not a pillowcase. Made from fabric that Grandma Hendricks gave me. The red fabric is leftover from Miriam's stocking.
Another pillowcase dress made from Bekah's leftover quilt fabrics.
Ana in a twirly circle skirt (instructions found here) made with the leftover fabric from her shirt. That's right. I made all three girls matching shirts months ago, and just now I used the rest of it for a skirt for Ana. 
The skirt in all its twirly glory.
Bekah in a pillowcase dress (instructions found on various websites after I Googled "pillowcase dress") made from ... no, not a pillowcase. Made from fabric that Grandma Hendricks gave me. The red fabric is leftover from Miriam's stocking. 
Another pillowcase dress made from Bekah's leftover quilt fabrics. 
I must say, it's been very satisfying making these cute clothes, but nothing else has been done around the house today. Oops! Well, nothing besides taking Miri to the surgical center, followed by the pediatrician's office followed by the pharmacy. Okay. Maybe I deserved a little creative time.
Miri's procedure, Part II UPDATE
I took Miriam to the pediatrician, and we found out that NOT ONLY does she have another ear infection, but she ALSO has bronchiolitis. She endured a 10-minute albuterol treatment with the nebulizer (which she screamed through) and an antibiotic shot that I was promised would be beefier than the amoxicillin she received for her other two ear infections.
We're hoping this will clear things up for her so she can have her surgery in a week or two.
We're hoping this will clear things up for her so she can have her surgery in a week or two.
Miri's procedure, Part II (or "Psych!")
The tear duct probe didn't work. Less than two weeks after the experience, Miriam's eyes were tearing up again. But rather than calling the ophthalmologist's office right away to schedule the intubation, I held off hoping that the problem would take care of itself.
In the meantime, Miriam suffered from several ear infections. We realized that her recurring illness was probably linked to her blocked ducts, so I finally bit the bullet and called the office. Monday morning, Miri saw Dr. Affleck again, and he explained the surgery to us and helped us schedule a time at the surgical center.
Today was the day. Since we had to be to the center by 6:10 a.m., my dad came over to be with the big girls as they woke up. Miri didn't like waking up before 6; she complained the whole time Seth changed her diaper and strapped her in her car seat.
Then we had the usual pre-surgical experience: signing papers, having our insurance card copied, answering questions, changing the patient into mini hospital gown and waiting.
An awesome cell phone shot of Miri in her hospital gown at the Idaho Falls Surgical Center.
Seth keeping Miri entertained by allowing her to play with his watch.
When the anesthesiologist came into our room, he did the typical pre-op check. But after listening to her lungs, repositioning the stethoscope and listening again, I could tell that something was up.
Following a thorough explanation of the whole anesthetic process involved with the surgery, he told us what I thought he'd been leading up to all along: he didn't want Miri to go under today. She's had a runny nose and junky cough for days now, and he could hear the nastiness in her lungs. He was afraid the anesthesia could pose a risk with her body already weakened from the sickness.
So no tubes for now. Instead, we're making a trip to the pediatrician's office to see if they can prescribe something to clear her up so we can try again in a week or two. It's a vicious circle--her sickness is caused by the blocked ducts that we were trying to have fixed but can't because she's sick.
However, I am extremely grateful to the anesthesiologist for suggesting that we wait. On Monday evening, Seth and Grandpa Hendricks gave Miriam a priesthood blessing during which Seth said that the doctors would be blessed with the skills and knowledge necessary to perform the procedure. I know that this morning's experience is a result of that doctor's knowledge. I would much rather wake up at 5:20 another morning (which is saying a lot) than do something now that could hurt my baby.
In the meantime, Miriam suffered from several ear infections. We realized that her recurring illness was probably linked to her blocked ducts, so I finally bit the bullet and called the office. Monday morning, Miri saw Dr. Affleck again, and he explained the surgery to us and helped us schedule a time at the surgical center.
Today was the day. Since we had to be to the center by 6:10 a.m., my dad came over to be with the big girls as they woke up. Miri didn't like waking up before 6; she complained the whole time Seth changed her diaper and strapped her in her car seat.
Then we had the usual pre-surgical experience: signing papers, having our insurance card copied, answering questions, changing the patient into mini hospital gown and waiting.
An awesome cell phone shot of Miri in her hospital gown at the Idaho Falls Surgical Center. 
Seth keeping Miri entertained by allowing her to play with his watch.When the anesthesiologist came into our room, he did the typical pre-op check. But after listening to her lungs, repositioning the stethoscope and listening again, I could tell that something was up.
Following a thorough explanation of the whole anesthetic process involved with the surgery, he told us what I thought he'd been leading up to all along: he didn't want Miri to go under today. She's had a runny nose and junky cough for days now, and he could hear the nastiness in her lungs. He was afraid the anesthesia could pose a risk with her body already weakened from the sickness.
So no tubes for now. Instead, we're making a trip to the pediatrician's office to see if they can prescribe something to clear her up so we can try again in a week or two. It's a vicious circle--her sickness is caused by the blocked ducts that we were trying to have fixed but can't because she's sick.
However, I am extremely grateful to the anesthesiologist for suggesting that we wait. On Monday evening, Seth and Grandpa Hendricks gave Miriam a priesthood blessing during which Seth said that the doctors would be blessed with the skills and knowledge necessary to perform the procedure. I know that this morning's experience is a result of that doctor's knowledge. I would much rather wake up at 5:20 another morning (which is saying a lot) than do something now that could hurt my baby.
2011-03-15
You're older than you've ever been, and now you're even older ...
I'm getting old. I know, I know ... everyone is thinking, "What?! Andrea, how is that even possible? You're a spry 28!" But I feel it comin'. The terrible march of time does not stop for any woman ... even a woman who is only in her upper mid-twenties.
Case in point #1: My eyes. I got glasses my senior year of high school, which some may think would put a crimp in my superior-senior ego. However, I was a Grade A nerd, so the glasses just exemplified that. I was down with glasses. I wore them in class and to drive, but I didn't need to wear them at home or when I shot photos (I hated the frames butting up against the viewfinder).
Fast forward four years. Seth and I were newlyweds, and I was shooting a wedding reception. I confided in Seth that my camera lens must not be working properly: I could get everyone NEARLY in focus, but not entirely. He suggested that I wear my glasses to shoot. I told him my eyesight didn't warrant that. But, considering the fact that it costs nothing to put glasses on but mucho dinero to ship a lens off to get fixed, I put them on. Magically, my lens was working! Since then, I always shoot pictures with my glasses on. (And my lens always works.)
Fast forward seven more years. Now I find that I have to wear my glasses when I'm reading at night. And when I watch TV at night. And when I'm on the computer in the morning. And when I'm grocery shopping during the day. And when I'm reading and eating breakfast in the morning ... which drives me crazy because (for some dumb reason) I HATE wearing glasses while I eat, but unless I put them on, I find myself squinting at Joel Stein's column and eating a bowl of Honey Bunches of Oats.
Case in point #2: The rest of me. Back in the day, I played a lot of volleyball. I was on the school team. I was on the club team. After high school, I took a wallyball class, participated on several intramural volleyball and wallyball teams and played once a week during open gym time in the fieldhouse. But since getting married, teaching school, having babies and the like, I quit playing for many-a-year.
Until a few months ago when a beloved high school friend invited me to participate in her stake's volleyball nights. The first time I came home from our pickup volleyball game, I was SORE. So sore I couldn't go up and down the stairs without moaning. So sore it hurt to laugh. So sore I would have cried if I thought it wouldn't have hurt.
I'm happy to say that my body doesn't scream in pain after volleyball night any more. But the other night, I had to dive/kneel to receive a floating serve that had dropped suddenly. I landed hard on my right knee--the one I had injured in high school and had to have surgically repaired. After passing the ball, I knew my knee was going to hurt. And it did. Even though it didn't hinder my playing for the rest of the night, I was careful with that leg.
The next day, my knee just didn't feel right. I couldn't explain it. I knew I hadn't blown a ligament or torn cartilage like the last time I'd hurt it, because I could at least WALK. But I felt uneasy about it.
When I explained it to Seth, he had the answer: "You're getting old."
And ain't that the sad truth. Even though I feel like I finished high school yesterday, the kids currently attending Bonneville still had most their baby teeth when I graduated. They consider Green Day's "Time of Your Life"--a song that played pretty much nonstop on the radio throughout my high school experience and was featured on every slide show--to be an oldie.
So for now I'll wear my glasses. And I'll try to take care of myself while I'm being active (my knee is fine now, by the way). And I'll try to remember that I'm no longer a spring chicken.
As for you, you just wasted two minutes of your life reading about my aging woes. Those are two minutes you'll never get back. In the words of the ever-wise They Might Be Giants, "And now you're older still."
Case in point #1: My eyes. I got glasses my senior year of high school, which some may think would put a crimp in my superior-senior ego. However, I was a Grade A nerd, so the glasses just exemplified that. I was down with glasses. I wore them in class and to drive, but I didn't need to wear them at home or when I shot photos (I hated the frames butting up against the viewfinder).
Fast forward four years. Seth and I were newlyweds, and I was shooting a wedding reception. I confided in Seth that my camera lens must not be working properly: I could get everyone NEARLY in focus, but not entirely. He suggested that I wear my glasses to shoot. I told him my eyesight didn't warrant that. But, considering the fact that it costs nothing to put glasses on but mucho dinero to ship a lens off to get fixed, I put them on. Magically, my lens was working! Since then, I always shoot pictures with my glasses on. (And my lens always works.)
Fast forward seven more years. Now I find that I have to wear my glasses when I'm reading at night. And when I watch TV at night. And when I'm on the computer in the morning. And when I'm grocery shopping during the day. And when I'm reading and eating breakfast in the morning ... which drives me crazy because (for some dumb reason) I HATE wearing glasses while I eat, but unless I put them on, I find myself squinting at Joel Stein's column and eating a bowl of Honey Bunches of Oats.
Case in point #2: The rest of me. Back in the day, I played a lot of volleyball. I was on the school team. I was on the club team. After high school, I took a wallyball class, participated on several intramural volleyball and wallyball teams and played once a week during open gym time in the fieldhouse. But since getting married, teaching school, having babies and the like, I quit playing for many-a-year.
Until a few months ago when a beloved high school friend invited me to participate in her stake's volleyball nights. The first time I came home from our pickup volleyball game, I was SORE. So sore I couldn't go up and down the stairs without moaning. So sore it hurt to laugh. So sore I would have cried if I thought it wouldn't have hurt.
I'm happy to say that my body doesn't scream in pain after volleyball night any more. But the other night, I had to dive/kneel to receive a floating serve that had dropped suddenly. I landed hard on my right knee--the one I had injured in high school and had to have surgically repaired. After passing the ball, I knew my knee was going to hurt. And it did. Even though it didn't hinder my playing for the rest of the night, I was careful with that leg.
The next day, my knee just didn't feel right. I couldn't explain it. I knew I hadn't blown a ligament or torn cartilage like the last time I'd hurt it, because I could at least WALK. But I felt uneasy about it.
When I explained it to Seth, he had the answer: "You're getting old."
And ain't that the sad truth. Even though I feel like I finished high school yesterday, the kids currently attending Bonneville still had most their baby teeth when I graduated. They consider Green Day's "Time of Your Life"--a song that played pretty much nonstop on the radio throughout my high school experience and was featured on every slide show--to be an oldie.
So for now I'll wear my glasses. And I'll try to take care of myself while I'm being active (my knee is fine now, by the way). And I'll try to remember that I'm no longer a spring chicken.
As for you, you just wasted two minutes of your life reading about my aging woes. Those are two minutes you'll never get back. In the words of the ever-wise They Might Be Giants, "And now you're older still."
2011-03-13
Ana-ism #11
At Primary today, Ana was asked to give the opening prayer. Before she bowed her head and closed her eyes, however, she had to take advantage of the microphone to give a little impromptu speech.
Ana: I remembered to bring my CTR ring to Primary today. Isn't that so good?
(Side note: Seth had found the CTR ring on the floor of the chapel before church started, and since it had been left there for a week, he thought it would be okay to give it to Ana.)
Ana: I remembered to bring my CTR ring to Primary today. Isn't that so good?
(Side note: Seth had found the CTR ring on the floor of the chapel before church started, and since it had been left there for a week, he thought it would be okay to give it to Ana.)
Bekahism #38
While driving in the van one day, Bekah and Ana were busy playing with their Slinkys. Bekah's Slinky was the daddy, and Ana's Slinky was the mommy.
Bekah: Hi, baby.
Analee: No, my Slinky is the MOMMY, not the baby.
Bekah: Sometimes husbands call their wives "baby" because husbands love babies. And their wives are like babies to them.
Bekah: Hi, baby.
Analee: No, my Slinky is the MOMMY, not the baby.
Bekah: Sometimes husbands call their wives "baby" because husbands love babies. And their wives are like babies to them.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)