Space Chimps

Well, it looks like we are coming out on the other side of this tonsil thing. Although, I say that, and last night the 6 year old was screaming bloody murder about the pain, so I don't know. Either way, we ventured out to celebrate Parker's birthday with a viewing of Space Chimps (that Ashton is funny even in a monkey suit in cartoon character form-Demi must laugh all day long...) and dinner at Red Robin. It seems fun was had by all (except Esther, who can no longer go into movies as she "fat lips" us at any loud noise) and to be honest the rest of us ladies were just happy to be leaving the house! Here's some pix:

Sponge Bob Scary Pants?

Well, we are one week into this whole recovery from tonsil surgery thing and as I pinch myself to make sure I'm still a viable human, I can hear the 88th episode of Spongebob blaring in the basement. When the girls were little and all their little playmates in California would watch Spongebob, I was adamant-absolutely not! NO Spongebob anything, not even gifts (similar to my current claim on Bratz dolls and Hannah Montana, although they sometimes watch her show now, but I won't buy her products-little girls hardly have a chance to be little and enjoy being girls, let alone dressing them as young women...I digress and I'm not judging anyone who enjoys these things for their kids, this is just our perspective...again, digression). Back to Spongebob. So, as I'm sweating off my gluten free, high sodium dinner of last night, I begin to pay attention to this Spongebob phenomena and I heard the word Stupid at least 5 times and there was some pirate ghost thing that kept turning into other creatures, it looked like a horror cartoon, no wonder I outlawed back in the day. I asked the 8 year old if she thought it was scary and she hoarsely replied I've seen it before mom. Well, that didn't answer my question, but since words and swallowing are scarce I left it at that and refilled the Gatorade fridge. So, as they are apparently reveling in the face of unlimited cartoons, popsicles, and electrolytes in their hydrocodone haze, I think about how far we've come. No longer toddlers, but Spongebob watchers I have. Not that I'm convinced as to its value, but sometimes tonsillectomy survival comes in the shape of a square.....

Chicken Coop-Day 5

I thought I was going to be able to dictate the happenings of the T-cubed recovery, but exhaustion is a fickle beast. We laughed this morning when we looked at the newborn and she was the only one who looked rested, laughing at her left fist, as the rest of us are trying to unpeel our eyelids from many nights of interrupted sleep.

I would first like to ask a question of all people addicted to Hydrocodone which have caused an unusually time consuming epidemic of drivers license info taking down, questioning eyebrow lifts from the pharmacist upon refilling, and we are now to the point where we are changing places we are refilling to help decrease the potential accusation factor. What are you people thinking? The silly drug doesn't even make my kids sleep. It does however cause a crazed look in their eyes and ferocious appetites-something I can relate to monthly.

Yesterday was the worst it has been on the recovery side of things. Chloe awoke throwing up blood, Rory cried and ate nothing but 2 bites of mashed potatoes, and I began to feel the walls closing in on me. Like a chicken in a coop, a lioness in her cage at the zoo, the feeling of if one more person whines, cries, says mom, asks for a popsicle, or lets the puppy out of her pen to poop on the floor I may lose it.
So, at 2pm, I filled their ice collars, tied them on, got some bottled waters, put a new movie on in the car, packed the diaper bag, and we drove. I don't even remember where we drove, but our gas tank says we went somewhere. We looked like an on the road circus show and I was the emcee. The whining still continued-for a bit. Then all of a sudden Esther started crying and I looked and Chloe had FINALLY gone to sleep, but landed on her little foot. Both girls slept, they slept like they'd never slept before. Forget the Hydrocodone, the car does a better job than the drug of choice. Today, they seem a little more like themselves, but hazy...again, a look I can relate to.
Day 5-Don't remember the last time they brushed their teeth, am grateful I remembered mine. They have showered and are in clean clothes, I have not and am not. The cartoons have become boring, the video games are causing WWF in the living room, and we are officially out of the Orange gatorade. Nine more days of this? Lord help me!

T.T.T. (Tonsillectomy Times Two)

Yesterday, after we blazed through our first post placement visit with the social worker, we piled into the car to the Southtowne Surgical Center in Sandy to meet Dr. Peterson and the wonderful staff awaiting to poke, slice, and prod our baby girls to remove their tonsils. The day before I was on the phone with the nurse telling her I didn't think the 6 year old should have them taken out, that now she was exhibiting cold/allergy symptoms and that the risk seemed too great. Frankly, I was scared. The 8 year old has had strep 9 times in the last year. She's been on antibiotics an average of every 6 to 8 weeks. That is not a good thing for a growing girl. I was resigned to her having them pulled. The 6 year old, on the other hand, had 2 cases confirmed and 1 over the phone-your sister has it, you have symptoms and your in Oregon-call in case. She was the one that when the dr looked at her, said it's up to you, I recommend it, but it's really up to you. Both of them were up to me. How do you say yes please, please risk their little brains and bodies under anesthesia and put me into a state of emotional turmoil at the thoughts of all the risks that this "routine" surgery has to offer. Yes please, but wait, don't let me sign up once, let me risk BOTH of my children. Are they on crack? Am I on crack? Let me tell you, by the end of yesterday, I was wishing for the crack. Not necessarilly the drug, but maybe a big one in the earth that I could politely Lipton Ice Tea plunge into and disappear for the next little while. No crack of either kind came. What did come was an unexpectedly calm 6 year old who held the anesthesiologists hand with her bubble gum flavored nose piece for sedation in her other hand. She just walked off with him, so trusting, turned to wave bye mom I love you as I turned my head to cry. I wanted to run after her and change my mind soooo badly, but I didn't. I was distracted by the recently sedated screams of the 8 year old that she did not want to go and she was scared. How do you comfort your child when you're scared too? As James kept saying, you suck it up, suck it up. So, I plastered my suck it up face on and kept putting my fingers through her hair as we watched Charlotte make the webs that saved the pig from being the centerpiece of the Christmas table. The whole time I'm thinking I want to save my little innocent creature from this chopping block that they keep calling "routine". I didn't. I sucked it up. She sucked it up. We all did. Rory came out of her anesthetic coma the same way she went in, willingly. Unfortunately, Chloe did also and when they finally let me in the room to see her, she was shivering, there was blood everywhere and she was crying for me. My heart was breaking, but again, suck it up. She had ripped her IV out in her flailing for consciousness and in turn, her airways became constricted and they had to administer some kind of breathing treatment after she coughed out more blood than what looked to be normal. She was ok, but we had to wait a very long time to leave.
So, we're home now. They're medicated on the dime-it's time for another round. I'm the barkeep of this popsicle/ice cream tavern and duty is calling.
Day 1-the cartoons are still interesting, the breath still stinks, they're still in their pj's from yesterday, and the ice cream is still a novelty. Only 13 more days to go....Happy Summer!