Halloween

With all the surgery recovering going on, I didn't think we'd have much Halloweening happening around here. 
We were ok with that, having rocked the pre-surgery school carnival and the awesome costume party thrown by the family of the famous O.

But we did carve our pumpkins.

And then Missy recovered quickly and was all about some trick or treating.  Little One agreed that staying in to hand out candy would be best for Her, but She still felt it to be gravely important that She do so in costume.
Not just any costume.
Due to an avid interest in a particular couple of boys at school, Little One has developed an intense fondness for BATMAN.  You have to say it in all caps, you know.  It's like a rule.
While I'm not overly fond of the origin of this interest, I do have to admit that BATMAN is awesome.
Little Miss had no confusion over Her preference, either.  Have I mentioned it often enough for you all to understand how much She loves cats? Ask Her what She wants to be when She grows up. 
So the day of Halloween, I threw together some last minute costumes. 
I sewed some snaps onto the shoulders of these walmart PJs so that I could add a cape, which was fashioned out of a couple thrift-store T-Shirts.  I refuse to explain why I already had the glasses.  But they were just the thing. 

Missy got a thrift store outfit too, complete with sparkly kitty shoes, and the ears and tails were made from a felt sheet and some cotton.  A little eyeliner and BOOM.

Kitty.
It was pretty hastily cobbled together, but the girls were thrilled.  In fact, Little One was so filled with the superhero persona imbued in Her cape, that She decided to brave the streets and Trick-or-treat, too.
 
So we left the candy out with a note, and went together as a family for the first time ever. 

It was a perfect, warm night, and we had so much fun.  Our neighborhood is fantastic at Halloween.  Most homes are decorated and handing out treats, and there are some blasting the Monster Mash, running fog machines, or handing out bags full of goodies with costumed grown-ups popping out of the bushes.

We brought the stroller along to help them make the trek.  Though Little One tired out and just rode along some of the way, we all had a great time and even in our short venture hauled in plenty of goodies.
 
When we got home, the kids immediately began sorting candy into "grown-up" and "kid" piles, according to allergy contents.  Their baby brother has had quite a lot of chocolate lately.

We watched a Halloween Word World, brushed teeth twice, and ended the evening with happy smiles.   While I confess I have been consuming an unimaginable amount of chocolate since these escapades, the real treat was to watch the magic on their faces.  Not much could be sweeter.

Surgery Day

In my last post, I said I had places to go. 
The first place we all went, the morning after we lost our Bananas, was the hospital. 
It was surgery day for the Littles.
They weren't allowed to eat or drink anything after midnight, so we had a family movie night and kept them up with snacks as late as we could all stand it.  In the morning, J and I rose before the sun to sneak some breakfast before scooping them up. 
We told them both to choose whatever they wanted to wear.  Just be as comfy as possible, we said.  You can even wear your pajamas! Your pajamas, we said. 
You'd think we'd never met these two, with such a suggestion, right Peanuts?
Here was Little One's choice:

Her current Very Favorite outfit- the cherished Rapunzel dress with tights and a fancy headband-er, crown- from Tia's store. 
Little Miss chose this: 

POLKA DOTS! Polka and polka and polka polka dots!  ALL the polka dots!
Dress, tights, even the little hair bow.  All that mattered was the polka-dottiness. 
All fancied up and ready for action, we raced over to the hospital- to wait. 
And wait and wait and wait. 
Luckily, there was a fun room to wait in, with blocks and crayons,
 
and a horse and wagon to go around and around.
 
And around.  And around.....  He's a very good-natured horse.  
Little One got to bring Her special puppy with Her, and they both got their bracelets and game faces on.

 And then, just as I was forgetting to be nervous about my baby going under general anesthesia and a knife, it was time. 

J went with Little One, and I took Missy over to wait for Her turn.  It was almost 2pm before She was called, a loooooong time for a two year old not to eat or drink.  I had braced myself for at least one of the minor circles of Hell this day.  However, surprisingly true to Her name, Missy was an angel all the while.  I talked the anesthesiologist into letting me stay with Her until She was asleep, and so She went peacefully.  In Her polka dot dress. 
Then there were about 20 minutes in which both of my babies were under and I felt uneasily as if all my eggs were in one basket.
Soon enough, though, Missy was done and I went to welcome Her back to the world.  She was slightly less than pleased. 

Some cuddles helped. The offer of some juice did a lot to repair Her mood, as well. 
Soon J was texting me that Little One was awake, screaming "like a banshee" and could I please RUN to the pharmacy to pick up Her pain medicine. 
My poor Little One.  My tough, brave, strong girl.  She was a crumpled little ball of misery. 
A couple hours later, though, She was less-miserable enough to take home. 
The nurse called Her an Old Soul.  She said Little One was tougher than most adults. 
Little One felt terrible, but She was very brave.  And we knew She was going to be ok when, before She would allow us to take Her anywhere, She insisted on changing back into Her Rapunzel outfit.  Complete with tights and crown.
On the way home, Little One had Her first chance to hand out one of Her blessing bags.  The reaction of the gentleman She handed it to did more for Her than the oxycodone.
We never did torture our Littles by eating in front of them while they were being starved.  So with the exception of a power bar I inhaled during the brief period they were both under, this pregnant Mama had nothing to eat for 12 hours.  When we got home, I promptly ordered two pizzas and ate SEVEN slices right in a row.  It's amazing the things one learns they are capable of under unusual circumstances.
The next week and a half was a blur of long nights, popsicles, tears, and cuddles on the couch.  But Missy recovered in a couple of days, and even Little One did pretty well during the day when Her medicine was in full effect. Slowly, the good stretches stretched out and the teary ones faded.  She even started back to school a couple days ago.  
The good news is that we received the best possible results from both girls' tests, and are very relieved for them both.  The bad part is that I've never seen Little One suffer quite so much, and that is rather something considering that Her medical history has been slightly less than charmed. 
But the good news again is that we have this hope that it's a sort of a lump-sum, quota-filling pain; that it will mean that years of drawn out, frequent suffering will be avoided.  We can only wait and see, and hope it was all worth it. 
In the meantime, at least it's all over. 
And, lets be honest here, I can't pretend that anything involving this level of cuddling and ice-cream eating could ever be all bad. 

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. 

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. 

Same Girl, More Adventures

Awhile ago I posted an update on Little One's allergies. 
Since I've had a few questions from family lately about how Her fevers are going, let me give Little One more reason to slap me with a HIPAA lawsuit someday. Bring it, Little One!
I don't talk about the fevers as much as the allergies, because unlike food allergies, which other people can have a lot to do with making worse/better, there is nothing anyone can do about Her fevers.  Not even me.  And I'm the mom.  I'm supposed to have super-kiss-it-better-powers!
But they are a big part of our lives, nonetheless.
Little One has a glitch in Her immune system that causes Her to spike high fevers about once a month, for about a week.  They come with lovely side attractions like vomiting and lymph nodes the size of ping-pong balls.  So much fun! 
Let me tell you something about Little One.  She is tough.  I mean, this kid is tough as nails.  How much is inborn, how much is building up a tolerance for discomfort after a small lifetime as a human pincushion, who knows.  But my girl is so tough, She doesn't even know She's being tough.
So most people don't notice.
Think about it.  A week of fever that comes every month. That's a quarter of Her life.
Most people don't notice that 1/4 of the time, She is experiencing something that would have most kids crying and pouting in bed.  And practically all adults.  Because She is tough, and because Her parents take the stance of, "this is your life so go live with it", She goes about Her business- school, swimming lessons, chores- even though She is fevered and in pain. 
To the average observer, Little One might seem like a kid that's due a nap.  A little bit droopy, a little bit grumpy.  A little bit.  Almost no one can tell that She's powering through a really tough week.  And we don't bring it up.
Before we knew what was going on, when She got sick we would baby Her a little.  Let Her lie on the couch, let Her eat soup.  Then the week after the fever was as rough on us as the week during; it took that long to readjust to having to follow the rules and the schedule and not being a Special Case anymore.  Well if we keep that up, it's literally half our lives spent off-kilter.  It's telling Her over and over that She's a victim and She Can't.  No thanks.
So She might be a little grumpy at a playdate, but I'm not going to skip it. Or say, "Sorry. She's running a fever of 103, taking three medicines, and hasn't kept down any food today.  It's not really Her fault She's a bit fussy."  I don't want Her to hear me say that this thing, normal for Her, is an excuse, or that I think She needs to be apologized for.  I'll just let Little One know that if She's too tired to play, we can go home.  She decides.  Sometimes we do, but we say She's tired and leave it at that.
Unlike food allergies, which anymore are pretty common, fever syndromes are still pretty rare.  So I also don't talk about it much because I get blank stares.  No, it doesn't really make sense.  It's an odd disorder.  No, She's not contagious; She's not actually ill.  Her body is just attacking itself for awhile.  Luckily my girl can take a self-beating and keep on kicking.
Still.  Just because we don't make too much fuss about it doesn't mean is isn't hard.  For Her, there are a lot of times She is expected to achieve and behave as usual when She just feels like crap.
For Her parents, between fevers we all but forget them.  It feels like they are no big deal.
But when one hits, it's misery.  It is misery to see my baby having to fight hard to get through a day.  An onlooker might not be able to tell how bad She feels, but I can.  She might not cry or whine one bit.  But when She just can't swallow Her dinner, She falls into my lap ready for bed two hours early, and looks up at me with these big, suffering eyes...it breaks my heart a little.
My super-kiss-it-better-powers fail me here, Peanuts.  In the middle of a fever, it is a big deal. We can't remember why we ever thought it wasn't a big deal.  We want to sell our internal organs if it will make it go away so She can feel better.  And then She wakes up in the morning, fine.  And we move on; we forget about it again for a few weeks.  It's a roller-coaster for us all.
The high demands of burning like that for a week each month ratchets Her metabolism up so that She needs a special calorie drink and a careful diet to get through the days without running out of energy.  But Her teacher can't understand why I keep bothering them about why She hasn't had Her snack at school.  She has to have it, I try to explain.  Every day.  One missed snack a day and She will dive off the growth curve and send all Her specialists into a tizzy fit.  I get to be That Crazy Mom. 
This summer, after a couple particularly bad rounds of fever, we agreed to try high-dose steroids.  It was like a miracle.  One dose and She'd wake up the next day as good as new.  One day a month is SO much better than a week.  SO much.
But the problem, which is common for fever syndrome kids, is that while the drugs shortened the fevers, it also caused them to come closer together.  Closer and closer, until we were having to give them to Her every two weeks instead of once a month.  Hard to say how much better that is.
So now we are considering third-line treatment, which is surgery.  In a little over half of cases, a tonsillectomy has been found to "cure" this fever syndrome.  Maybe not forever, but for at least a good long while.  Maybe by then She will be old enough that Her body will have stopped this cycle; it usually does happen on its own around puberty.
I know it's a minor, common procedure.  But it's still hard to elect to put your child under a knife.
I know I have found comfort scanning the internet for blogs of fever-syndrome moms.  It helps to know that though it's a rare problem, She's not the only one going through it, and it helps to see how other parents handle managing it for their kids. So maybe someone will read here and know there's someone who gets what you are going through, who is facing the same kinds of decisions.  If so I hope you share your story and advice in the comments.
For those who are just part of the Little One fan club, now you know Her better.  In the next week or so we will see the ENT guy and decide whether to try the surgery.  I'll let those of you who are curious know how it goes.  In the meantime, if you meet Little One She might be fighting or recovering from a fever.  But if you ask Her how She is, She'll tell you, "Good!" Which is exactly what She is. 

What's Going One With Little One

I may have mentioned the cold Little One picked up the day after Her fever went away.
It was joined by a nasty stomach bug, both of which have politely stayed with us to welcome the respiratory infection that is our most recent visitor.  We aren't laughing any more.  For the most part, Little One is an amazing trooper and in good spirits, wanting to play.  Unfortunately I really can't bring Her around other people, especially kids.  Because believe me, She has shared some of the love with me, and no one wants what She's got.  Any of it.
The weather is frigid and nasty. Though we've worked up the courage and swathed Her in layers a couple times to play in the snow, for the most part we've been stuck indoors.  Multiple layers are not the best option for tummy troubles, and now that the cold air brings on fits of hacking coughs, we've given up.
We've barely left the house all week.
I've turned into kind of a whiner over here I think....but I have to admit that it takes a little bit of a toll to spend long days in the house, aching for my baby who I just can't get better.  Right now I'm just hoping that She gets well in time to get out at least a little bit before it's time for Her to be sick again.
By which I mean the Fever.
Little One has several teams of doctors working on what's going on with Her, and they vary a bit on the specific type of problem they are voting for in the office mystery-diagnosis pool.  But at this point they all agree on the main idea, on the overarching problem.  It seems that Little One has a sort of odd glitch in Her immune system, which causes it to ramp up and go a bit haywire for no particular reason.  Apparently this happens to people.  Not a lot.  But enough to have a name and some studies and tests to accessorize with.  It's a severe inflammatory response to nothing external, but it is related to time.
It occurs in cycles, about once per month. Which means that to within a week or so, we can expect Little One to spike high fevers about every 4-5 weeks.  Good to know, because I won't have to keep dragging her to be tortured in Emergency Rooms every month thinking She has some infection. But rough because it also means that even if She never gets another cold, or stomach bug, or infection, or allergic reaction (which is obviously not possible), She will still spend about a week a month miserable and in bed.
It's a group of 'syndromes' all related to the same gene, but they come in different flavors. We're waiting on tests and more tests and time to figure out which one we'll be having. Some are worse than others, with complications later on, some just the fevers, but most are outgrown by adolescence or adulthood. So it's lucky.
Lucky that her problem will be inconvenient, uncomfortable, un-fun, but in all likelihood not life-threatening or dangerous. Lucky that once a month is not all the time, and that in between She will be ok, and keep growing and learning and dancing around the living room.
Still.  It's been a long few weeks, and I've been reminded sometimes of Tu Nidito.  
In college J and I both volunteered for at Tu Nidito, a fantastic organization. Really, fantastic. One thing I did there was help lead support groups for kids with serious illnesses and their siblings. 
I'm reminded of how weary the parents would be sometimes.  Of little things they said, about how hard it was not to able to participate in life, with regular routines and relationships.  How the emotional toll of worrying for and hurting for the suffering of their children was like a constant weight crushing them, one that had to be fought every day.  I remember talks about how impossible it seemed to hold out against the pity and the exhaustion and maintain the structure of a normal existence for their children; when it was so much easier on their patience, their tiredness, their desire to alleviate pain and sadness in their babies to allow rules to slide, concessions to be made, treats to be showered, whining and demanding to be tolerated.  How hard it was not to allow healthy siblings to be shunted aside and made to sacrifice.  These small tastes we've had of chronic illness, like grease flying in tiny droplets from a sputtering pan, sting.
They make me guiltily thankful that Little One is not a child with a horrible, debilitating, constant illness.  They make me revere those parents in my memories even more than I did before. Which was a lot. 
To tell the truth, they make me wonder if I would be able to withstand something like that. And even wonder a little bit if I have the fortitude as a mother, the resourcefulness, to find a way to cope with this small thing 1/4 of the time for years and years to come.  In a way that keeps our little home life here from derailing every time, so that so much time is transitioning between our "sick" patterns and "normal" patterns that we start to wonder which way is up.
Admittedly, everything is magnified by the fatigue and hormonal swings of pregnancy. Admittedly, I'm on the emotional side already, a born worrier. But still, I'm surprised by how tired I've become in the last few weeks.  Not sleepy tired, muscle tired, but heavy tired. Heart tired.  I'm kind of disappointed that I haven't figured out a way to handle this better yet, and part of it is being daunted by the stretch of time yawning ahead of us, in which I might expect to repeat this cycle many dozens of times.  I know it will get easier. We'll get "used to" it.  I will figure out ways to manage things better for all of us, as we go. 
But it's turning out to be more of a challenge than I would have expected.
I remind myself that She won't have regular sickness on the heels of every fever, that this was just a bad spell.  I remind myself of all those Luckys up there, of the families at Tu Nidito and I am thankful with everything I have that She's going to be OK.
But at the same time, with Her allergies I can't help but feel a tiny bit like She's been struck by lightning twice. Hadn't we filled some cosmic quota? I worry about little things like missing that much school, like having the consistency that I think is so crucial for little ones, like the expense that will come with having to get my hair dyed when all the gray hairs start cropping up from watching Her sweat and whimper. Little molehills that go clamoring over one anothers' backs and piling up until, magnified by the mommy lens, they start to look like a mountain.  Well.  A hill, anyways.
So, that's what's going on with Little One. As far as we know. So far.  We have some more appointments and blood to be drawn this week.  And so...I guess we'll just wait and see, and do what everyone does with hills, and keep climbing.

Pink Plastic Bangles of Honor

I was going to tell you about Little One's awesome prize-winning fever episode and the medical juggernaut She traversed in consequence. But, really, She tells it better. This is Her version of today:

"Hopital. Doctor come. (points sharply to the crease of Her arm)- POKE! Little One owie. Poke owie. (shakes Her head morosely a moment, then straightens up and puffs out Her chest) Little One Bave! (brave). Bave! Doctor come. Give treats! Goo gurl Little One. Bave, treats. Tank you!! Tank you treats! (shows off the plastic bracelets. Smiles.) Mommy? Doctor. She nice!"

I was there. I can tell you, it's all true. Especially the part about Her being so brave. Even the part where She thanked the nurse that stuck a needle in Her arm- and that was before the bracelets. Having a sick Little One gives me reason to feel helpless, and sad. But also proud.

La Llorona- Mini Version.

Speaking of our trip to Nana. Do you know what is really, really awesome timing?!
A toddler managing to spike a 104 degree fever in the middle of the night before you get on a plane across the country! That's what!
What is it with Little One and traveling? Doesn't She know that our insurance forces us into the ER for every sniffle if we're not at our home base? I tell you.
So, since the fever was still with us after 2 airplanes and 8 hours, and as it was now accompanied by a lot of screaming, we skipped the first night of Nana's parties and had our own party in the Santa Fe hospital's special pediatric waiting room.
Complete with child-friendly diversions! Such as: The gang member and his half-naked girlfriend with the tattooed neck. The reeking bag lady that Little One wanted to "tuck in" because she was "sleeping". And, best of all, the large woman in a belly shirt, hotpants, knee-socks and sneakers, with the traditional espanola lipliner, shaved brows, and mile high bangs, SCREAMING into her cell phone for 20 minutes; "why you like that?! How you gonna leave me here?! You know I got no ride and why you gonna be mean on me?!" while spewing standard swear words and allusions to other women, drugs, and violent threats. Ah, Santa Fe. Feels like home again.
Little One wasn't too concerned about all this. She was mostly consumed by complete disgust in a big cheese doodle on the floor that She was convinced was an orange poo. An orange poo on the floor. Why is there orange poo on the floor?! MELTDOWN.
She might have felt better if the triage nurse had been able to give Her some medicine for the fever. But since they carry only one flavor of motrin, and She happened to be allergic to it, we got to experience 4 hours of the above delights at 103.6 degrees!
We finally got a bed in the ER and were told by the hippie with the red fro-hair, that "man, ya know youre gonna be here like all night man. Its crazy busy man, friday night!" Luckily my mom was in town with us and went out for safe motrin and food, so we were all in a better mood by then. We entertained ourselves with stickers. And then, finally, we saw the doctor.
Now, I expected the long wait, but what I was really dreading were the tests. We have had a couple of nightmare experiences with taking Little One to the ER while traveling. But do you know that there is a huge benefit to potty training that I hadn't even thought of? Pee in a cup! Pee in a cup! YAY NO CATHETER pee in a cup! It was the least traumatic ER visit we've ever had. (In some ways.)
We went to our hotel with meds for an ear infection and a good healthy dose of nostalgia for the proud location of my birth. Little One draped Her entire burning-hot baby body on top of me, circled Her sweaty arms around my neck, and slept all night.
A few days later a tell-tale full-body rash informed me that roseola was the culprit all along, but for the remainder of the weekend, Little One continued to be pretty out of sorts. She spent a lot of time pouting and clinging to me like a little monkey. She loved the music at Nana's party, but hated all the people. NO ONE was to touch, talk to, or look at Her besides Mommy. With one exception:

Tia Ree. My babiest sister was a haven for Little One. She approached calmly, waited patiently, and otherwise just seemed to "get" Little One. She was an incredible help to me, wiping down tables and high chairs for cheese remnants before I even got there, handing Little One what She wanted before She knew She wanted it, and playing or cuddling according to Little One's mood better than I could have myself. It was a relief for me, and my back, to have those two so close. And it was really, really sweet to see. As I watched the two of them from across the room, seeing the word "Babysitter" flash in neon lights around Ree's adorable little head, I added another reason to the long list of why I wish I lived closer to this sister who is growing up awfully fast.
Lets face it. It was a lovely few days of parties, it was fantastic to see so many family members- the technically related as well as those appropriated into the clan over years- and I wouldn't have missed it for the world. But it was exhausting tending to a miserable kiddo and there were a lot of tears shed as the festivities wrapped up and the goodbyes came around on Sunday.
Of course, our plane home wasn't until Tuesday. Which left us a whole day to treat our wounds with the patented Santa Fe elixir of green chilis, oozey cheese, and more green chilis. Maybe they should keep some of that in the fancy hospital.

TX- Big Sick

Little One stayed up past Her bedtime for the Big Party, so we didn't think too much of it when She slept in the next morning. Well, other than: "Hallelujah we all get to stay in bed! Woo hoo we get to linger over coffee! Thank goodness She's resting up, She'll be in such a good mood!" Ha.
Eventually we thought we'd get Her up before She slept right though nap time. The second I touched Her sleepy Little One body I thought, "uh oh".
Here are some numbers, to demonstrate what happened next:
103.4-degrees radiating from my Little One.
And then, 105.
1- trip to the ER
1 -torture chamber device for an X-Ray, with Her body encased in a plexi-glass contraption that pinned Her arms over Her head and left Her feet dangling in the air.
5- wires attached
1-catheter
7- times it was explained to us that it was vital to start an IV because of Her heart rate.
2- parents who took turns holding Her down while
5- nurses tried
dozens- of times with
6-needles to start an IV. Which they never did.
3- People who asked me to leave Her so they could try again.
0-seconds either of us left Her alone.
1- J who never gets upset telling the staff not to touch his baby again or we'd walk out.
212- how high Her heart rate got.
4- flavors of pedialyte brought to us
2- flavors sent back because She is allergic to them.
10- hours altogether before we took Her home, for
5-Days of fevers vascillating between 102 and 105.4
6-sleepless nights
1-more trip to a doctor- peds clinic this time.
30-seconds it took the nurse there to draw blood and get the band aid on. Amazing.
7- days from start to finish, until She was back to Herself again.

Little One was so traumatized by this whole experience that for days after anyone holding Her arm- say to put it in a sleeve, or to wipe oatmeal off of it- caused little tears to flow while She shook Her head and pleaded, "No-no! No-no! All done. All done!"
She's a little leaner, tipping the scales at the same exact weight as She was on Her first birthday, which puts Her back into 6 month-sized clothes. But She's better, eating, singing, playing. One of Her new favorite toys is the pretend-doctor set, which She uses to look in everyone's ears and give Herself lots of "shots". Sort of interesting.
It's sobering when a baby gets sick, especially if things go sort of wrong, and I realize how fragile they really are. At the same time I realize how brave, and how strong She is. She never did get an IV, never did get anything but Tylenol, and Her teeny little body fought off the Big Sick all by itself. In the end it was just a virus. A really bad, nasty virus.

In Texas, even the germs are bigger!

Excorcism at Luray

Think heat. Misery. Shrieking and gnashing of tooth. Writhing. Flailing. Screami....you get the picture. Little One with a fever. We figured, hey, as long as we've got the sound effects and the degrees on hand, might as well add some fitting scenery and call it complete. So we loaded up the little gremlin and headed towards the core of the earth.

Hauling a sick baby out to southern Virginia for a hike may not seem like the most compassionate way to coddle Her, but in fact it turned out to be just the thing. The two hour car ride lulled Her, finally, into a nice long nap. The cool, damp air soothed Her hot little goblin body, and the crazy stalactites and stalagmites provided ample distraction.

The best part, in Her estimation, was that the cave people had thoughtfully placed this railing along the trail for Her to cruise along.

It led Her to all sorts of fascinating sights.


There was also a performance by an organ, which some guy actually made out of the hollow stalactites by scampering about with a tuning fork banging on them, and then attaching little hammers on them and linking them up to a piano. It was hauntingly beautiful, so much so that even Little One held still to listen.

There was also this. Maybe money does not grow on trees, Peanuts, but apparently it does accumulate in the groundwater and form little pools of affluence in the bottom of caverns.

We did not get to dredge the moneypit for our next mortgage payment (it goes to charity), but we did have a really good time, and Little One even got another nap on the way back. I guess sometimes the best way to cast out a demon is to set it free in it's natural habitat.

Oh and Little One is feeling much better. She's ready to go exploring more caverns looking for Her own moneypit! (All that gnashing can lead to expensive orthodontics).