One Up, Two To Go

Well we have one little angel all safely through anesthesia.  Luckily our little Banana needed only imaging and no procedures, so once the effects of deep sleep wore off we didn't have many after-effects to worry about.  The hardest part for her was being taken from my arms by a stranger to go back to the anesthesia room.  I really, really do not understand why I can't stay until they are asleep. 
But, I am told, I can't.  So She went crying and calling "mamamammamama MAMA!" and my heart fell apart in little pieces. 
But she woke up almost immediately in the recovery room.  Looked right at me with hazy, droopy eyes, and said, "I. Want. Appa-sauce."  As I was unprepared for this request, she slurped down a juice instead and then tried unreasonably hard to put on her own shoes.  Watching a drunk two year old is both slightly comical and rather disturbing. 
She was confused about whether to be combative and tearful, or snuggly and sleepy.  She alternated between the two until I got her home and properly fed.  Then she took a good nap and was more or less her old self again. 
Sadly for her, she will surely need to go under again pretty soon to have her problem treated.  But happily for her, now we will know that there should be applesauce at the ready.
 

It's Not Every Day You Nearly Murder Your Child

But it did happen last week.
After a long, long day, I stayed up late finishing some chores. Missy had a string of nightmares and incidents involving too much water before bedtime, resulting in practically no sleep.  In the morning my fuzzy brain was distracted, thinking of the day ahead, rushing to get everyone fed, dressed, snack-packed, pottied, shoed, and out the door; worrying about too much other than the tasks at hand.
I went through the motions of the morning, swept the crew into the car, and dropped Little One off at school with Her snack bag and a kiss.  
Back at home, I started pulling together the Stuff I needed for a day out with Littles.  I reached into the cabinet to make a bottle for Baby Banana.  And froze.  My brain was still sluggish, so it took a few seconds for it to send the proper message to my heart.
Which was: STOP BEATING.  THE WORLD IS ENDING. 
In the cabinet, Little One's calorie drink powder sits next to Baby Banana's formula powder.  In cans just the same shape and size.  The labels are different, so it's not hard to distinguish.  But as I reached for the formula, I noticed that the other can was missing.  I remembered I had run out of it the night before.  Which means that, in my haze and haste, I had reached for the only can in the cabinet.  And mixed my horribly milk-allergic daughter a drink of milk-based formula.  I had basically sent Her to school with a pink plastic cup full of poison.
I called the school in a panic and they pulled the poison from Her bag.  Thank goodness I realized my mistake before snack time.  I brought the right drink right over, and other than the teachers probably questioning my sanity, there was no harm done.
But there could have been.
Aren't those haunting, as a parent? The could-have beens? 
It was one heck of a good reminder to slow down, breathe and focus, and take things one at a time.
My goodness, parenting is such a ride.  Some days you craft and cook and go to the museums; you feel like you're doing ok.  And then some days, you nearly kill your children. 
Or maybe that's just me.  Yikes. 

No Hands!

Pardon my absence.  I've been busy riding an emotional roller coaster.
WHeeeeeEEEeeee!
It's been a week of fun- field trips, parties, and family time. But also a week of rough- doctor appointments and hospital visits, hand/foot/mouth disease passing among the many hands/feet/mouths in the house, and enough jerking around by the social work system to give a person whiplash.
On the upside, Little Banana seemed to make a real breakthrough in Her opinion of my trustworthiness the night we danced in the kitchen.  On the downside, we have discovered that she has a pretty major health problem which has caused a lot of rushing around and worrying.  She is now the last of my four to join the ranks of Littles being followed by pediatric specialty teams.  We ought to have our own room at the hospital and just live there!
In the next three days, all three of my girls will be going under general anesthesia.  All for fairly minor/routine procedures, but I'm a mama and can't help but worry.
I thought pregnant women weren't supposed to ride roller coasters? For now we will just take it one turn at a time and try to focus on the ups.  They always come around. 

Blessing Bags

There are three homeless men who work the corners between the hospital and the freeway.  

They are usually there at rush hour, with their cardboard signs.  We make that drive pretty often, and awhile back Little One got to wondering what the heck they were doing out there.  Didn't they know there was traffic around; that it isn't safe to stand on the edge of the road like that?

And so launched a long and deep conversation about homelessness.  A conversation which spanned days.  Weeks.  There are a lot of questions to ask about homelessness.  

One thing we discussed was why we usually don't give out money- even when people ask for it, even when they need it.  In the end, Little One said She understood.  But it really bothered Her that there were people asking us for help, and we were driving by.  We talked about how we can always give smiles, and look people in the eye with kindness. Because not being ignored is always a gift.  That helped, but it wasn't enough. Every time we made the drive, Her heart would ache over not having anything to give.  

When it came time for Her birthday, out of the blue She thought of those men and others we've seen on corners with signs, and She made Her request about gifts for them instead of Herself.  

So we talked about the specifics of that, and decided on Blessing Bags.  

We asked guests at Her party to bring things like toiletries, new socks, and protein bars instead of presents.  After the party we dumped all the goodies into a heap, and Little One carefully doled them out into equal piles.  

She packed each little pile into a gallon-sized ziploc bag, and we had a stash of Blessing Bags!

 Now we keep a few in the car, so that if we encounter someone who needs help, we have something to give. Little One thinks this is the best birthday gift ever. Now She has something Important.  A way to do something kind.  I like it too.  It really is a gift that keeps giving!

Totally Inappropriate. But Too Funny Not To Share.

We took a little road trip awhile ago.
Driving home at dinnertime, Little One asked me to hand Her some food.
But I was eating almonds and had to wet-wipe my hands first, because of Her allergy. 

Little One: "Food please mamma!"

C: "Ok! Just hang on a minute. I need to clean my hands first, because I've been touching these almonds."

Little One: "You have some dirty nuts?"

Boy Games Girl Games

LO: "I don't play with them.  They only play boy games.  So every day, I just a'nore them."

C: "Boy games?  What makes something a boy game or a girl game?"

LO: "Well, boy games is like, Bad Guys, or silliness.  Girls game is just, too fun for boys.  Stuff what's too fun for boys.  BUT! Boys like races.  And girls like races too.  So, we can all play races together with our ch'others." 

At least there's a common ground.  Even if it's only used for competition.  

Biker Chick

On one of our many doctor visits, Little Banana got tired of Little One reading to her.  So she hit Little One and pushed the book out of Her hands. 
"No thank you, Banana! I am going to give you some space." Little One picked up Her book and walked to another chair. 
"Wow," the doctor remarked. "She didn't even hit her back! She handled that like a grown-up."
I was surprised by the comment.  I wouldn't have noticed, really.  I wouldn't have expected anything else from Little One.  If She had hit back, now that would have caught my attention!
But it was a reminder of what we have noticed with Little One in recent times. 
She is very grown up; She does deal with the littler ones, especially the bananas, with a patience and kindness that is maybe beyond Her years. 
Not always, to be precise about it, but the great majority of the time.  She shares, She gives, She takes care. She helps Banana with her shoes.  She coos and sings to Baby Banana.  She lets it go when Her hair gets pulled, Her drawing gets torn, Her tower crashed.  She lets it go when She sees Her shoes on other little feet, Her special toy in other little arms. 
She is all over helping me out, fetching diapers and burp cloths and cleaning up messes She didn't make without being asked. 
Not always. But often enough that I would call it the norm. 
J and I talked it over, not too long after these current Bananas joined us.  We had thought of waiting for Her birthday.  But instead, one day when She finished Her math practice and the others were sleeping, we led Her into the garage. 
"Little One," I explained, "Daddy and I have noticed that with your sister, and with the kids who come and stay with us, you have been very patient. You have been very good at sharing, and doing a lot of helping."
Little One blushed and nodded.  "Thanks mom."
"Well.  It is very grown-up to share things and to help without being asked."
"I guess so, mom."
"So, Daddy and I think that since you are such a grown-up girl, you should probably have a big girl bike." 
We pulled a sheet to reveal a brand new, two-wheel pink and purple bike with training wheels, and She lit up like a neon light. 
"OH. WOW!" 

Normally this is the kind of thing I pick up at a thrift store.  But this time, we decided to go for the whole shiny-new shebang.  Truly, I think She's earned it. 
J took Her out right away, and She had the hang of it in no time. 

Now She loves to ride whenever She can get an adult to take Her out.  She calls it Her Big-girl bike. 

We would have gotten Her a bike anyways.   It's time. 
But it's nice to have had a way to show our appreciation for Her good decisions, and nice to have a way to reward those choices. It makes it sort of a double-gift for Her; a bike and tangible evidence that Her parents don't take Her for granted. 
And it's a double gift for us, too.  Pride that She is big enough to ride this bike, at seeing Her push the pedals and wobble around corners.  And pride that it's not just Her lengthening legs that make Her such a big girl, but Her widening heart. 

Visitation Day

Today we all packed up and went to the child center for the Bananas to have their weekly visit with their parents.  As usual, Little Banana went in like a lamb and came out like a holy terror. 
She came right to me for a big hug.  Then pushed me away hard and gave me the look.  Uh oh.  I know that look.  On the way to the car she stomped and hollered, "NO! NO NO NONONONO NO!" even though she wasn't actually saying no to anything particular. 
She was so wound up, and the weather was so wet and icky, I decided to take them to the mall play area to let off some steam.  They all ran amok and had a great time sliding and climbing.  Until Banana took up a seat at the top of a slide, and refused to budge.  The line of children behind her piled up.  She sat there, backwards on her perch, staring them all down. 
I began walking over to encourage her to slide, just in time to watch her suddenly pop the kid behind her right in the eye.  What do you know?  Girl has a pretty decent right hook! She nearly knocked him off the steps. But he rallied and slapped her back.  She looked utterly victimized and began to wail piteously.  (Which did not, I'm afraid, save her from time-out.) 
I took that as our cue to exit for lunch.  After all our headway on her eating issues, today of course she slid right back to square one.  She played with her food and made a huge mess. She crammed her entire sandwich into her mouth, then stared at me with steely eyes and steadfastly refused to chew.  We sat there waiting for her. Forever.  She threw a fit in the bathroom when she had to be changed.  She insisted on putting on the straps in the stroller, then began to fuss because they were on.  Little One knelt down to console her, cooing and asking how She could help.  Banana kicked Her in the face. 
Back home, after a long nap, I picked Banana up and- like she used to in her first week with us- she went rigid and leaned as far from me as possible.  "Get off me," she chanted as I changed her diaper.  She went to play with the Littles while I fixed dinner; pushed and hit, grabbed toys and screamed "MINE!" whenever either of them touched anything.  She took a red crayon and scribbled all over the art table.  She swiped Little One's lovie and ran and hid it in the living room.  Finally I called everyone to dinner.  She didn't come.  The Littles washed up and sat waiting in their chairs.  Banana ignored my calls. "Ok, Banana.  If you can't hear me I will come and bring you to the table!" I started to walk over to her.  At that, she came running into the kitchen, pell-mell, right into my shins.  Sobbing the whole way. 
She practically never cries.  She whines.  She whimpers.  But she doesn't cry.  This time, she was all-out tears and heaving sobs crying.  I knelt down, held her at arms length and looked straight into her face.  "What's wrong?  Why are you crying honey?"
She just shook her head.  I don't think she has the words for such a big question.  Maybe no one would.  Or maybe she just stubbed her toe, I don't know.  She can't tell me these things. So I just went with intuition. 
"It has been a hard day, hasn't it Banana?"
She nodded. 
"It's ok to be upset.  I see that you are feeling upset.  You look sad and mad."
She wailed.
"I want you to know that it's ok.  You are ok.  We love you and we don't want you to feel sad.  I'm right here and I will take care of you."
She stopped crying suddenly and just stood there, staring at me.  Her arms went up- ...down.  Up- ...down. 
"If you need hugs, I have plenty for you."
She seemed to fly into my chest, crying again, clutching my neck.  I picked her up and held her a long time. She quieted, she went limp.  Finally she lifted her head and looked at me and smiled. 
"Silly!" She said.  (Which I've learned over time is Banana language for "I like you". )
So I smiled too and we ate a dinner with few problems.  
Afterwards I was cleaning up and she looked at me again with tears in her eyes.  This time she reached for me and said, "Mama.  Mama mama! I want you.  Mama."   She calls me that. 
I scooped her up and she held on so tight.  In the kitchen Pandora was playing Jazz standards. 
I held her close and we danced as Sinatra sang to us-
"you're nobody till somebody loves you! So find yourself somebody to love"
She had her head on my shoulder, her cheek pressed to mine. Every time I slowed down or began to let go, she gripped me tighter.  This little thing who took weeks just to be comfortable in quick hugs or a story time cuddle, wrapped herself around me like a band-aid and melted into my arms. 
We danced three songs.  In the glass of the window over the sink, I caught glimpses of her smiling. 

Five-O-Saurus

When I asked Little One what kind of birthday party She'd like to have, She said:
"Well. It could be princesses.  All my friends have princess parties."  
"Hmm," I carefully hid my horror,  "That's one idea.  But you don't have to have the same party as everyone else.  Let's come up with another idea, just for fun.  What's something YOU like?"
Little One brightened right up.  
"I know, Mom! I know! How about a- DINOsaur party!!! I LOVE dinosaurs!"
Yes.  How about that.  Dinosaurs I can work with.
I decided to go with the marsh building at the aquarium.  Getting to pet and tour reptiles and an aviary seemed like the closest we could get to real dinosaurs (and I did not have to clean up).
We went to visit one of our favorite local oddities, a war plane museum which randomly has some giant dinosaur models out front, to get a photo for invitations. 

Then Little One and I had craft time; I punched the holes and She tied a toy onto each one. While we were at it, She picked out some paper She liked at the craft store and we fashioned party hats with dinosaur spikes down the back. 

 We scouted for dinosaurs everywhere we went.  Each time we ran an errand the Littles were on high alert for dinos, and before we knew it we had all the makings of buckets of prehistoric party favors.

 

 At a dollar store we found some little wooden cutouts of brontosauruses.  We brought them home and I drilled holes in the top and sanded them down.  I threw in some markers and lacing yarn, so that guests could decorate their own necklace name-tag.

 

 We had a few other craft projects to keep little dino-partyers busy

 

 For decorations, Little One insisted we needed a big volcano.  So I scavenged an unused foam posterboard from the garage.  I cut it out and peeled away parts of the backing paper to add texture, 

Then we painted it with leftover furniture paint, and added red and orange tissue paper and a glittered, red-painted 5 made from leftover posterboard scraps.  

Then Little One helped me use the rest of the craft paper to make a birthday banner.  

My mom took the T-Shirts she'd bought them months ago when we visited a Texas dinosaur museum and fashioned them into fabulous party dresses, and we were all dinosaured up. 

The venue only allowed cake and water, no food.  So we decided to make them as dinosaur-y as possible!  Little One picked out the tape and stickers for the water bottles.

 As for the cake, it took some experimentation...

 

 And it didn't look like much at first...

But in the end we fashioned a vegan chocolate island surrounded by a jello sea and topped by a volcano...

That blew smoke...

 And erupted in strawberry goo.

 

I kind of forgot to light the dinosaurs.  But She wished on Her 5, and even though it was a mess to serve, it tasted pretty good and She was quite amused with the special effects.  

 The kids had fun getting up close with the reptile visitors,

 Ok Little One was not about to pet the one described as "gooey and slimy"

 And then we all got to take a tour of the aquarium's animals and exhibits.

Little One is always happy to lend a hand

 One of the top highlights for Little One was that after the aquarium tour, She got to go behind the scenes and feed the otters.  The rest of us got to watch, and the otters put on quite a show! 

 

Overall Little One had a blast.  She invited some longtime best friends, and a list of new pals from school.  I was happy to see that they were all awesome, sweet, fun kids.  

They made a fierce group of dino-guests!

 Afterwards, as a family we went to lunch at Her favorite restaurant- a sushi and Japanese food place which She might just eat out of business one day.  Then we opened presents.  At first, Little One was afraid all those fancy packages meant no one had honored Her request for donations. But it turned out they were mostly filled with toothbrushes, soaps, power bars, and the like.  She was thrilled.  

She got some nice gifts to play with and wear as well, and it seemed like a nice balance.  Because She is now FIVE and a BIG GIRL, She even suggested that She make Her own thank-you cards this year.  An excellent idea, I agreed.  I'm glad that She is a big girl, and I'm glad that She is thankful.  

I am, too. 

Small Victories

I can't share everything about our little Bananas.  I'm not allowed to share photos, names, or identifying information.  So I won't.   But I can share some of what we are going through as a family.  We are working on patiently taking tiny steps forward. 
Baby Banana is nearly a year.  But because of "non-accidental" brain injury, caring for him is like caring for a six month old.  He can't feed himself a cheerio.  He can't sit up by himself.  He is tiny for his age; he is learning how to eat. 
Little Banana is a tiny bit older than Little Miss.  Like Missy, she is small, which is nice because she now has a closet stocked with outfits to share.  They play together and it is very sweet.  But, now that she has settled in enough for us to really see her whole self, it is heartbreaking as well, because it's impossible not to compare. 
Missy is potty trained.  She sets the table and sings the alphabet and spells Her own name. She has Her favorite stories memorized, She plays elaborate games of pretend involving family members She rarely sees and the names of friends from play group.  
Little Banana doesn't know her own name, or who she sees in the mirror.  She knows what a dog is.  But she can't recognize one in a book.  She can't recognize me in a photo.  She can't choose between water or milk, or tell me where it hurts if she falls.  She talks a lot, she is very engaging, so it's hard to notice at first.  But almost all of what she says is just parroting what someone else has said. She seems to be playing the same game as the Littles; She follows along and does what they do.  But if you ask her what she is playing, she says, "playing!" If they are being mommies and feeding their dolls, I tease, "are you pretending to be lions?"  She nods, "Ten-deen lions!" 
She seems to understand you- she nods when you ask a question. But it has nothing to do with affirmation.  She takes directions very well, and she's extremely compliant.  If I ask her to put away the blocks she's been playing with, she will jump right up and begin gathering them.  Only, even though she's just taken them out of the white box minutes ago, she can't remember where they go.  She runs frantically from room to room with one in each hand, repeating, "Bocks? Bocks? Bocks go?" I tell her to put them in the white box at her feet. She looks all around.  She looks right at it.  "Feet?" I have to point, to show her.  "Oh! There a is!"
She's nowhere near potty training; she has serious issues with both toileting and eating.  It's agonizing both from an empathy and a frustration point of view to watch her attempt either.  I spend half the day, it seems, coaxing- "Eat, Banana.  Chew it up, love.  Swallow your bite please, Banana.  Try a drink of your milk."  She will stuff her mouth as if she's starving, until she begins to gag.  Then just let the food sit there.  And sit there.  Forever.  She will forget what she's doing and begin playing with the spoon, begin rolling a pea over and over.  It can easily take her two hours to finish a bowl of oatmeal.  Amidst the many appointments we are rushing to these days, I am constantly faced with how on earth to get food into her before we have to pack up and go again. 
She scribbles alongside Missy.  Missy tells me, "this one the ship. See, looks like a tri-angle. A big sailboat! An' it's going aaaaaalll a way to Texas.  And here, is a crocodile! Going to get the sailboat to eat it up! And here come the mama, right here, to save it from crocodiles.  And here is a cow." 
I ask Banana, "And tell me about your picture?"  She looks up at me and cocks her head. 
"Pic-ure."  
"But what are you drawing?" 
"Drawing!"
It breaks my heart. In moments like those, I look at her and see a child who has been robbed of the very greatest gift we are each born with- unlimited potential.  I look at Baby Banana and see years of struggle for things that could have been a given, if they weren't taken right from him.  It breaks my heart. 
But I have to shake it off and remember that pity and anger and breaking hearts never do anyone any good.  That nothing can be done about could-haves and should-haves.  What we can do, is start from here, and do our best.  The hard work for me isn't to decide fairness or assign blame- that's not my job at all.  My task is to accept them as perfect.  As just who they are, just where they are.  And to do anything I can to just move forward...no matter the pace.  No matter how far behind we start compared to someone else.  To choose to see their potential as Limitless Anyways.
The eating is messy and frustrating, with them both.  The effects of "training intestines how to process food regularly" is messy and frustrating.  And gross.  For them both.  Learning to cope with delays, especially those that effect certain behaviors, is tiring and confusing at times. 
But tonight I want to celebrate the victories.
After a month of being in our family, our bananas are quite far behind their peers in so many ways.  But they aren't in a race; they are on their own tracks.  And I'm feeling happy with how far they've come so fast. 
Little Banana no longer runs and hides when she's scared or hurting, she comes to me with wide arms.  That's huge.  She has learned, after lots of work, to tell me at least sometimes when she is hungry or thirsty, or needs help.  This feels like a big hurdle jumped; learning to both identify and express a need.  Today, for the first time, she was able to identify both Littles by name. She has learned how to buckle her top car seat buckle, and she is so proud of this it makes my heart shine.  She ate her whole dinner tonight with silverware. 
For Baby Banana, it was a banner day.  For the first time, he rolled all the way over and discovered the incredible freedom of getting from one place to another.  This baby who used to be on the same spot on the blanket if I left the room and came back later- by the end of the day he was rolling half way across the room.  It's a new world for him! 
When he first came to us, if I put him on his tummy he would whimper a moment, then lay down and go to sleep.  After a month of tummy time he now pushes up on his hands and plays with toys, he gets his belly just off the floor.  Today, he even scooted forward a few inches!  He has learned to eat baby food, even with a few soft chunks, and decided that he loves it.  Today in fact, an amazing thing happened. 
He cried.  Because he was hungry! This is a baby who thus far has only cried if in real pain.  Who I have to feed a set amount on a careful schedule because he could not tell when he was hungry (and wouldn't fuss no matter how long it had been since eating last) or full (and when fed would eat and eat until he threw everything up).  Today he cried for food- he asked for food!  He has also learned to turn away when he is full.  He is learning himself, learning how to communicate, learning how to be cared for.  It's beautiful.  I've hardly been so happy to hear a baby cry. 
These children are amazing.  They have been given so little; I am stretched, I can manage just the basics most days.  But they have taken that little and used it to grow and learn and become bigger and better and stronger and smarter.  In such a short time, in such a hard, scary situation.  I am proud for them. 
They are proof of what human failure can do to damage.  But they are also proof of what the human spirit can do to overcome.  They haven't passed as many milestones as some their age, but they are achievers in their own right. They inspire me. 
If they can keep on, keep being better each day than they were yesterday, after all they have been through...well what's my excuse?! 
The truth is I have been feeling tired and stressed and rather maxed out lately.  But today especially these bananas remind me that I have a human spirit, too.  It means that the more I have to overcome, the more I will overcome.  If they can wake up each day and move forward on their own tracks, well so can I.  Tomorrow I am going to be be myself.  But better. 

Living Large

Today I spent eight hours with Littles and Bananas at the hospital.  We did a sort of tour of waiting rooms, triage stations and exam tables.  Then I dragged the lot of them across a parking deck in wind and rain to find an exploding diaper.  Changed the poor shivering buns on the passenger seat, then drove the soaked bunch of hungry, no-nap children whining in harmony through two hours of rush hour to get home.  J is out of town again.
It's not all rainbows and sunshine all the time, is it?
In fact, it is simply amazing how much actual, literal crap is involved in this job.  I honestly would write more for you Peanuts about our current lives, except that practically every story involves poo or vomit or both.  If I can't be spared it, Peanuts, at least you can.  Some of it, anyways. 
Tomorrow we go back to a doctor, Friday to another.  Between the four of them we are the traveling band of medical maladies.  Since I've been hit with a good strong respiratory infection the last week, I make a perfect ringleader!
But even though the house is a wreck and the kids and I all had a great laugh today about the state of my rainy-day hair, we are hanging in there.  At the end of the day we get to snuggle up, all smelling like baby soap, all in our fuzzy jammies, and read stories.
Suddenly the rain seems cozy and friendly, the messy house still feels like home.  The long day melts away behind us.  That too has passed.  And now we're Here, wrapped in blankets, cuddled together in an imaginary adventure to dream about soon. 
This season of life feels large to me.  As large as I am! The days are so long, the work is so ponderous.  The headaches are so blinding and the sacrifices demanding.  But the payoffs.  The sweet moments.  They are breathtakingly huge as well. As long as I remember to hold on to those while the challenges fall into my lap, life may get heavy, but maybe there will be balance. 
And hot chocolate.  There will always be that. 

October 7, 2013

Five. 
Enough to count each finger on a hand.  A whole hand full of years. 
Five whole years of motherhood, five years of Little One. 
A handful isn't such a very lot. 
But when I look back at five fingerlengths of years with this child, it feels heavy.  It feels like holding the world, like holding a lifetime of joy and wonder. 
What was there before those five?  How did I not notice how empty my hands were?  What did I hold on to?  I can't remember. 
I know that having held this small hand in mine, five little fingers in five weathered ones, feels like enough love to have gathered to make all of my many more years worth the while. 
It's amazing how the smallest things can make the biggest difference.  A handful of little years and I've been redefined; I've relearned myself and what living and loving means.  Five years only, and yet I somehow know in my soul that the world has more light than it did when my hands were empty. 
Someday I'll tick off more years on more fingers, and then She will be too big to hold on to.  I will have to let Her go.  Still I can't wait to see what each of those years will bring. 
In the meantime, five is such a perfect number.  Big enough to feel the weight of holding all that magic.  Small enough to fit into my hand.  

\

Big Little (One) Decisions

Today I took four quite ill children to the ENT specialist at nap time. 
I'm not sure if this was like a test to see if the surgeon could remain calm and collected under all circumstances, a test to see if I could, or just some kind of a twisted joke I decided to play on us both.  But, fortunately, surgeon and I both passed the test.  And while no one got the promised Big Treat For Being Extra Patient And Calm (our traditional BTFBEPAC at the hospital is orange juice), no one got scolded either, and I did get to have a lengthy conversation which I could even hear all of.  So overall a win I think.   In part because of the compelling facts Dr ENT had kindly printed up for me in advance (points for actually reading Her chart and being prepared! And passed the four-sick-kids-no-nap test! The guy needs a trophy.) we have decided to go ahead with the surgery. 
The other reason we are going for it is that for extra credit, Dr. ENT agreed to coordinate with another specialist who is already scheduled to have our Little One under anesthesia later this month, so that She could get both procedures knocked out with one, well, knock out. 
Since half the risk will be undertaken whether Her tonsils are removed or not, we might as well yank 'em and hope that it will be the miracle life-changer for Her that the latest studies promise. 
The trickiest part (other than how I will manage to disguise myself as an orderly or stow away in the scalpel cart so that I can be RIGHT BY my baby's side EVERY SECOND while She's having a part of Her body cut off),  will be convincing Her this is all a good idea. 
As I've mentioned, the fevers have been part of Little One's life since She was a baby.  She literally can't remember living without them.  So for Her, what's the big deal really?  Removing body parts, however... um....that's a novel experience She is none too excited to explore.  Her exact and final words to me in our discussion today were, "Say what you want to but I will NEVER ALLOW IT." 
Of course She was a little grumpy about the no juice.  But still. 
And what about this other procedure you ask?  Oh, you know. Just another specialist looking into whether She has yet another rare disorder associated with deranged immune systems.  Unfortunately, confirming this diagnosis requires general anesthesia.  And I personally really, really don't want Her to have it.  On the plus side, deranged as Her immune system is, it isn't dangerously so in the way that say, cancer, or some really terrible thing might be.  So I will count blessings instead of eggs before they hatch. 
Speaking of blessings, tomorrow will be the first school day in a very long time that no one has any appointments for me to drag us all to.  We will stay home with our sick, nasty selves and keep our PJ's on and do birthday party crafts and take actual naps.  I'm pretty excited.