Avoidance Blogging. Alternate Title: The Moving Month

Some of you may have wondered what happened to your Midwest-girl-turning-Southern-belle over the past month. 

Well, I'll tell you.

I've gone back to being just a straight-up Midwest-girl. 

More on that in a bit.

In the meantime, I should let you know that I've been practicing a form of blogging that I like to call "Avoidance Blogging".  Let me explain.  Usually, blogging is some sort of therapeutic activity...a place to jot down thoughts,  record events, a platform to promote ideas and discussion. 

In Avoidance Blogging, you don't do any of that. Instead, you simply own a blog, and don't write on it.  Easy-peasy, huh?

I guess I should clarify though--Avoidance Blogging isn't simply forgetting to blog--it's much more involved than that.  In Avoidance Blogging, you think about your blog and you may even mentally compose several posts. And almost daily something happens that makes you think you really should be posting about this or that.

But, unfortunately, there are SO MANY of those things running through your head and so many different things occurring in your life, that you completely avoid your blog (hence the name) in hopes that things will settle themselves back into nice neat little happy posts with out any record of the chaos in between.

Avoidance Blogging.  If you haven't already tried it, you probably will.

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Now that we are settling into some type of normalcy and the upheaval of our lives and emotions has finally subsided, I am leaving my stint as an Avoidance Blogger.   Instead, I will condense the past Moving Month into one, devoid-of-emotional-angst post--complete with an almost daily breakdown of what has been happening and a smattering of pictures.

Here we go.

The Moving Month:
Dec. 1--Our First home is officially back on the market.

Dec. 2--Our friends-that-are-family have a going away party for us.  During which, I fail to take any pictures because somehow it would have made the fact that we were leaving seem more real.

Dec. 3-17th--Dr. C leaves for Iowa, leaving me alone with our three-children and a house that has to be constantly kept "show-ready".  We have various showings during this time, but no offers.

Dec. 5th--Dr. C starts his new job.

Dec. 9th--Church Christmas party and sitting on Santa's lap.

Miss B was not a fan of the guy in the red suit.

Dec.17th--Dr. C flies back to Memphis.  The kids and I drive the 3 hours to pick him up.  After six hours in the car, when we return home, we spend 3 hours moving everything out of the attic down to the garage and bringing everything in our storage unit back to our house for the movers.  (P.S. A big thanks to our friends-that-are-family for watching the kiddos and helping us move all of our junk belongings.)

Dec. 14th, 15th, 19th--Miss B's last days with our Kids Therapy Spot/Early Intervention family.

Miss B with her first boyfriend.

Miss B's Occupational Therapist and Speech Therapist

Miss B's Speech Therapist

Miss B's Physical Therapist

Miss B's Service Coordinator



Dec. 18th--Our last Sunday with our church family in The South.

Dec. 19th--The movers arrive and start packing up all of our things.  Miss B's amazing school, The T.K. Martin Center, holds their annual Christmas party and Miss B attends for the first and last time.

Miss B's lovely teacher.

Dec. 20th--The movers finish packing up and all of our belongings and head back to the Midwest.

Dec. 21st--The boys have a half-day of school; their last day at Sudduth Elementary.  Some people come and look at our house while we are doing our final cleaning and loading up the van to overflowing.  We leave our Southern Home and head to St. Louis for Christmas.

Dec. 24th--Christmas Eve.  Complete with the annual Clam Chowder & bread sticks dinner.

T-Man making a funny face.

Dr. C wearing the crown from his popper thingy.

After dinner, we spend the evening by the fireside, and read the Christmas story.  A perfectly lovely Christmas Eve.

Dec. 25th--Christmas Day.  We wake up, open our stockings, stop, eat breakfast, go to church, come home, eat lunch, and don't even start opening presents until 4PM.  And my kids are okay with it.  Miss B had started feeling bad on Friday and by Sunday morning, she is looking pretty sickly.  She still perks up enough to open presents.

Miss B loves this FurReal cat thing.  The rest of us think it is a slightly possessed toy that really should have an on/off switch.  It is currently residing in a corner of the basement, facing the wall.  Please don't tell Miss B where it is.

T-Man, the Bounty Hunter

Miss B signing "help" as in "GET THIS DOLL OUT OF THE BOX FOR ME, NOW!"

Dec. 26th--Dr. C leaves St. Louis for Iowa to meet our moving truck.  He is unable to return until Thursday night.  Miss B wakes up feeling worse.  We go out to lunch with my very good friend E.Lee who I hadn't seen in over a year. 

That night, Miss B takes a turn for the worse, and a new adventure begins.  We start at the Urgent Care center, they give her a breathing treatment but think she is too sick for them to handle.  We are then sent to the ER.  The ER spends 5 hours giving her meds (which she promptly spits back out), lots of tests, 2 breathing treatments, and then decides she is too sick for them to handle.  After a lovely ambulance ride, we end up at St. Louis Children's Hospital and a definitive diagnosis of RSV and bronchiolitis.

We are there for a week.



Miss B staying with us is touch-and-go for a couple of days there.  She spends some time in the PICU and her IV faithfully pumps her little body full of fluids and steroids and eventually antibiotics.

(Have I ever mentioned how thankful I am for modern medicine???  My little lady would not be with us today without it.

On the flip side though--those high-tech monitors with all of their wavy lines and different beeps could very likely drive a parent insane.  Any parent who has spent some time in the hospital with a child knows what I'm talking about.

There's the beep.        beep.       beep.--the one that means something is up, but you just have to hit the silence button and keep an eye on it.

Then there's the higher-pitched, faster-- Beep! Beep! Beep!--which means it's time to call the nurse.

And then lastly, the panic-invoking, fear-inducing--BEEP!!!BEEP!!!BEEP!!!--that means it's time for you to run into the hallway and scream for someone to get there RIGHT NOW, #$&*  IT, AND TAKE CARE OF MY BABY!!!

I hate the beeps.

Just sayin'.)

Dec. 31st--Miss B's very nice doctor brings us a bottle of sparkling grape juice for the evening.  Dr. C and I toast the New Year with styrofoam cups at 8PM. Then Dr. C leaves and spends the rest of the evening at my parents' house with the boys so they would have at least one parent for the holiday celebration.  I spend the evening watching The Big Bang Theory marathon on some random channel. 

Most unusual New Year's Eve ever.

 Jan. 1st--Miss B finally busts out of the hospital on New Year's Day--my 30th birthday--and we load up the van and make the rest of the journey to our new home in Iowa.  Probably my most unusual birthday ever as well.

Jan. 2nd-Unpacking and settling in begins.

Jan. 3rd--Dr. C heads back to work; I get the boys registered for their new school.  That night, we head to our first Iowa caucus where we hand-write our ballots and turn them by placing them in a plastic sack.  Afterward, we check out the Mitt Romney Caucus Night party.

The press area--holy cow, there were a lot of cameras.  Not to mention all the wandering camera people.  Wowzas.

 The kids and I only stay for a few minutes (it wasn't exactly a kid-friendly event).  Dr. C takes us home and then goes back for the speech.  Definitely a unique experience.

Jan. 5th--T-Man and Fearless are supposed to start school, but pick up a nasty stomach bug instead.  I'm still not sure that it wasn't at least partly psychosomatic, but due to the fact that there was actual throwing up involved, the first day of new school is delayed.

Jan. 7th--In need of furniture for our new house that has a completely different floor plan from our old house; we drive the two hours to Omaha to the Nebraska Furniture Mart.  We returned victorious with a new sectional precariously tied to Dr. C's truck.

Jan. 8th--Our first Sunday in our new ward.  Everyone was perfectly welcoming--some new friends invited us to dinner that evening and we had a lovely time.

And finally--if you've made it this far--Jan. 9th--T-Man and Fearless started their new school.  T-Man loved it, Fearless is not sure yet.  I'm crossing my fingers that he will love it soon.

No, he didn't take the sword to school.

And that my friends, wraps up the recap of The Moving Month. 
Here's hoping I don't need to practice Avoidance Blogging again anytime soon.

Compartmentalized.

When I was in college, training to be a social worker, I remember a professor telling us that you had to learn to mentally compartmentalize the emotional stress that comes with the job.  She suggested having a specific routine every night after work to help you mentally "put away" your work (that was pretty heavy emotionally) so you would be yourself for the rest of your day.

It was (and is) wise counsel from an experienced professional who has skillfully helped many people through some very very difficult situations.  It helped me--the greenie social worker--to soften some of the emotional turmoil that came with dealing with children who had gone through horrific experiences.  It was (and is) a useful skill.

Except when everything comes back out.

Let me back up a bit and explain.

Dr. C and I have had the unusual habit of getting a degree and moving across the country every time we've added a child to our family.  With T-Man, we moved from Utah to Missouri when I was 38 weeks pregnant.  With Fearless, we moved from Missouri to Nebraska when he was 3 weeks old.  With Miss B, we moved from Nebraska to The South when she was about 4 months old--3 weeks after major open heart surgery.

With each move, I compartmentalized the stress that came with place.  For example: In Utah--I was working 20 hours a week; taking 22 credits; doing an internship 20 hours a week and was pregnant.  Locked that away. In Missouri--being a first time mom, Dr. C in grad school, pregnancy...etc.  Close that one up.  The feeling were put into a little mental box and closed up until time and distance shrunk them to nothingness.  And the compartmentalizing worked out okay because now I remember that there was stress associated with those times...but all I feel when I look back is happiness and fond memories. 

But the last year in Nebraska was the most stressful time in my life ever.  So when we moved--when we left my beloved Midwest and headed to a state that I'd never even stepped foot into before--I compartmentalized the unknowns in Miss B's pregnancy, the long hours alone with two young boys and a complicated pregnancy while Dr. C finished his PhD, the stress and worry and fear that came with open heart surgery, the emotional turmoil that Miss B's diagnosis threw me into.  I guess I thought I could just lock up all those feelings, move across the country, and over time and distance they would be gone.

I was wrong.

A few days ago, for the first time since Miss B's pregnancy, I met a mom, in person, who is pregnant with her third child.  A girl.  Who will have special needs.  Previously, I had only had the privilege of talking with other moms that are expecting children with special needs through email or blogs--but this time, in person, seeing her cute baby bump...it was so much more real and personal.  And while the specifics of her pregnancy and the special needs of her child are different from mine--the unknown-ness of the situation is still the same.

And that little compartment where I had stored all those feelings--all the emotions that came with Miss B's pregnancy and heart surgery--came rushing out.  So I did what any sensible person would do in the middle of church right before you have to go sing happy songs with 30 children.

I burst into tears.

Perhaps it was a bit of PTSD? or maybe it was just pure empathy that could express itself in no other way.  I don't know.

But my compartments failed and I wished with all my heart that I could have taken the stress and worry away from that momma, added it to the suddenly-freed stress and worry that came with Miss B in Nebraska, shove it back into the compartment, slam the door, and never have to see it again--to let it shrink to nothingness without any effort on my part.

But since that meeting...there have been little pricks--a tv show depicting the passing and funeral of a sister with Down syndrome, a talk in church about overcoming trials and another one about the lessons we can learn from children--that have me in tears again when usually I would be fine.

Maybe it's time to purposefully open the compartment and empty it out permanently.

10 Minutes At My House

Tonight I was planning on posting all about Fearless turning 4...waxing eloquent about how he's grown and changed and being mushy and lovey-dovey about my second-born.

And then...

Well, let's just start this way.  I had the kids by myself.  I let them stay up late because they were playing nicely.  Miss B was crawling all over the place and practicing standing up while only holding on with one hand.  I eventually told the boys to get their pj's on and go use the potty to get ready for bed.

T-Man took his time, but got changed and ready for bed.  Fearless started to get into his pj's...but then changed his mind half-way (and half-dressed) and decided to use the potty. 

I was still playing with Miss B and T-Man.  After a long while, I realized that Fearless had not yet emerged from my bathroom.  (Side note: Why do these things always happen in my bathroom??  You'd think they'd have adventures in their bathroom...but so far, no such luck.)

A moment later, Fearless poked his head and half-naked self out the bathroom door and in his quietest, little-boy-poor-pitiful-me voice he said, "Mommy, there is water coming out of the toilet."

I raced into the bathroom, and sure enough, there is water coming out of the toilet.  LOTS of water.  LOTS and LOTS of water.  Let's just say the term "flooded" would be an understatement.  It was more like FLOODED. 

And the new roll of toilet paper I had just put in the bathroom was now in gobs and  floating and swirling in the flood.

I yelled for T-Man to go get the plunger from their blissfully dry bathroom.  I told Fearless to go get some towels to stop the water from spreading into my bedroom and to start trying to dry it up.

T-Man got back first with the plunger.  Miss B decided to head over to the bathroom to check out the commotion. 

Splash, splash! 
This is funny, Mommy! 

Grabbed Miss B, put her in the furthest corner of my bedroom to give me a few moments to fix the toilet.  T-Man decided to go get towels too...and in the process, runs smack into half-naked Fearless who is returning with the first load of towels.  And not just any running into...it was a full on
head-butting.

Complete with tears all around and a now spurting-bloody nose coming from Fearless.

Left the toilet for a moment, grabbed a kleenex for Fearless. 
Checked to make sure T-Man didn't have a concussion. 
Fearless started freaking out because there was blood on his hands. 
Got more Kleenex to wipe it off. 
Instructed Fearless on the proper way to handle a nose bleed. 
Instructed Fearless SEVERAL times on the proper way to handle a nose bleed. 
Ran back to the bathroom to check on the ever-flowing-toilet.  Still flowing. 

Miss B was back in the bathroom and had spit-up (thrown-up?) on the one dry part of the floor and my bedroom carpet. 

And she was chewing on the plunger. 

YUCK. 

(On second thought, maybe she chewed on the plunger, then spit up because it was DISGUSTING, then went back to chewing on it??  Either way, ICK, ICK, ICK.)

Grabbed Miss B, put her in the hallway, closed the door. 
Fixed the toilet.
Wiped up the spit-up off the floor and carpet. 
Dried the bathroom floor. 
Checked on Fearless' nose.  Stopped the bleeding.  Checked to make sure there were no broken noses.

Sent Fearless to use the potty AGAIN, because apparently the first time he had just been playing the "How much toilet paper can you send down the toilet?" game and hadn't actually accomplished anything while in there.

Started a load of wet towels/bath mats in the washing machine.
Brushed 3 sets of teeth.
Listened to T-Man and Fearless talk about how cool it was that Fearless had blood everywhere.  I guess once it stops bleeding, it's apparently pretty cool to be bloody.  Between the two of them, he is a hero for getting blood to squirt all the way down to his hands and knees.  He was definitely not that excited about it as it was happening...but now...he is TOUGH STUFF.  (Boys.  I give up.)
Sang songs, read scriptures, prayed.
Tucked 3 kiddos into bed.
Decided that the birthday post will have to wait until tomorrow when I'm feeling a little more chipper about my child being 4.

Wednesdays

Wednesdays are usually our crazy day.  It looks like this:
5:10AM:  Alarm blares and I stumble out of bed
5:30AM: warm up, stretch, 4-8 mile run, cool down, stretch
6:30AM: Dr. C, T-Man, Fearless and Miss B wake up
6:45AM: Help T-Man get ready for school and out the door in time for carpool at 7:15
7:15-8ish AM:  Help Fearless get ready for school and Miss B get ready for all of her therapy sessions.  I catch a shower in there sometime too and only with Dr. C's help, we eventually make it out the door by sometime around 8AM when I drop Dr. C off at work.
8:15-8:30ish: Drop Fearless off at preschool, chat with a few other moms, get held up for an indefinite amount of time by the preschool teacher, eventually slip away around 8:45ish
9AM: Occupational therapy and physical therapy co-treatment
10AM: Speech therapy
11AM: Run home to clean house or run quick errands
11:45 AM: Pick up Fearless from preschool, try to evade the preschool teacher that will talk for forever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever (despite a cranky Miss B and a ready-to-leave Fearless)
12: Lunch for all
1PM: Miss B's special educator comes our house to read books, do ABC's, etc
2:30PM: Leave to pick up T-Man from school, sit in carpool lane for what feels like an ETERNITY
get home sometime between 3:15 and 3:30

After that it's the usual homework, piano practice, playtime/cleanup time, dinner prep, dinner eating, dinner cleanup, bedtime routine and then finally around 8PM, I sit down for what feels like the first time all day.  It's a whirlwind! 

I'm sure other people have just as crazy of days EVERYday, and we are getting to that point now that the boys are getting more and more involved in sports and afterschool activities...but for right now, I feel like Wednesday is the day I have to mentally brace myself for.  The day when I know I have to give up any sense of "me" time and just check things off one hour at a time.   Wednesdays are the day that make me hate Thursdays because after a Wednesday, I'm ready for it to be Friday!

Today is Wednesday.

Ugh.