Allergic to Vacation

We just booked our family vacation!  I should be excited.... right?

I'll be honest: as much as we need a vacation, it makes me incredibly anxious to think about the actual trip.  Sure, I'd be crazy not to look forward to sleeping past 4:30am and soaking up some vitamin D while reading some trashy fiction.  But the truth is that Dane seems to be allergic to vacations and holidays.

It all started with our first family vacation in 2011.  Dane developed a 103.7 fever on our third night.  We rushed him to the ER where he promptly vomited all over me at the check-in window.  The doctor ordered a chest x-ray.  He asked again and again if Dane had asthma (because he was on all the breathing treatments and medications any kid with asthma would be) and we replied over and over "he's too young to be diagnosed with asthma; he has allergies."  He had just turned 10 months old the day before.  I wasn't ready for asthma.  I also wasn't ready for pneumonia.  On vacation.  But that's what he had, along with an ear infection and eye infection.  He promised us that Dane would be fine.  They pumped him full of antibiotics, oral steroids, and albuterol.  They sent us "home" with instructions to finish our vacation and come back if his fever returned or his breathing worsened.  They also gave us the name of a local pediatrician we could check in with in a couple days to make sure his lungs sounded alright.  The experience was a pleasant as could be for rushing to the ER with your 10-month old at midnight on vacation.

We tried to hang in there for a day, but being on vacation made things seem worse.  I guess it was like going on a Ben & Jerry's tour if you're lactose intolerant.  He was miserable, we were as exhausted as we had been when he was a newborn, and we were at the beach.  After a day of tears, I told Jonathan I wanted to go home.  We packed up our car and headed for our real home at 10pm.  It was a miserable trip home.  Dane couldn't breathe well in his car seat, Jonathan snored, and I almost hit two deer standing in the road.  I was heartbroken that the family vacation I had dreamed about for years had hit such a wall.  Even so, we were happy to be home.

Here's a few of the other reasons I tend to flip out a little over planning a vacation, or any celebration for that matter:

• November 2010 (Nana & Papa's first visit) - rotavirus
• Thanksgiving weekend 2011 - ear infection and asthma trouble that required oral steroids
• Christmas Day 2011 (2am)- ruptured ear drum/ear infection
• February 2012 (BFF Owen's first birthday party) - pink eye and ear infection
• Thanksgiving weekend 2012 - asthma trouble that required oral steroids
• Christmas 2012 - on antibiotics for ear infection
• Disney trip 2012 - the norovirus "Sydney" that's hit so much of the nation this winter

I'm a little skittish about vacations and holidays, as you can see.  Thankfully, this year, we are going into it knowing a few things that we didn't when we embarked on our first family vacation:

• Dane's does have asthma, so we come prepared.  That means nebulizer, nebulizer meds, and oral steroids.  A little breathing trouble no longer scares us as badly because we know what to do now.
• Our relationship with our beautiful, fantastic, intelligent, selfless pediatrician (can you tell we're smitten?) has grown to the point where we have her cell number for the really scary situations.
• We know that the hospital at our fave vacation location is top-notch and we wouldn't hesitate to make a visit if it was necessary.

Even so, do us a favor and send happy vibes and prayers our way in May!

"That" Mom

It's official.  I'm that annoying mom.  I probably have been for a while, but a recent online purchase that was delivered to the house today confirms it (for me at least).





I ordered a pediatric otoscope.  That's right, a device to look in my kid's ear when I think he might have an ear infection.  Let's face it, I dropped the ball bigtime last month and I don't want it to happen again.  One of the pediatricians in the practice suggested a handy little thing called a "middle ear monitor."  While I could certainly see the usefulness of something like this, it's big claim is that it can give you an idea of the likelihood of there being fluid in your child's ear.  Well, Dane practically always has fluid in his ear because he has allergies.  What I really need to know is if I need to take him to the doctor to get a round of antibiotics.  I certainly don't want to take him if he's not in need of antibiotics, because all parents know that even if your child doesn't need them, he probably will after a visit there!  Exposing an asthmatic little one to more plague than absolutely necessary isn't on the top of my list.  And because he never runs a fever, acts strangely, or has a change in appetite when he gets an ear infection, someone has got to look in those ears!

Enter the "pocket" otoscope.  (I find the term "pocket" hilarious because as crazy as I might be, I am not toting that around in my pocket all day.)  I've debated the purchase for quite some time, but the recent congestion in our household finally sealed the deal.  We'll see how it goes.  I figure for the cost of one co-pay to the pediatrician, it's worth a little peace of mind.  And most of you know I love disgusting medical stuff anyway so it's right up my alley.

Like Mother Like Son

I belch like a man.  I don't do it in public, but anyone who knows me has probably heard it and wished they hadn't.  My mom always says "I thought I raised a lady" every time she hears it and my dad says something along the lines of "righteous".  I'm proud and ashamed at the same time.  Maybe a better way to explain it is that I'm ashamed that I'm so proud of this ability.

I taught Dane to stick green beans in his nose one night at dinner.  Not exactly just for the heck of it, but it did get him to eat his veggies that night.

I recently told Dane to say "Daddy, suck it" and he willingly repeated it.  Jonathan's reaction was worth the fact that we had to send Mommy to time out to show Dane that wasn't appropriate language.

The point of all this is to tell you that Jonathan is terrified that no one is going to believe that when Dane does this crap at school, it was Mommy who taught him.  So I guess this is me letting you off the hook, baby.  It's out there in the world.  When he gets sent to the principal's office for teaching the other kids how to burp, they'll know it's my fault.

In related news, Dane called the cat a "turd" the other night.  I wonder where he heard that.

Broccoli Cheese Soup Recipe

This is literally the best broccoli cheese soup I have ever had in my life.  It's amazingly simple and free from any of the "cream of" soups and pre-packaged crud people seem to be so desperately avoiding these days.  It started as a recipe from a co-worker.  I have no idea where she got the recipe, but I've modified it to perfection.  It is by no means light, but it's a perfect dinner for a chilly night with some rolls or (drumroll, please) a BREAD BOWL.  Oh heavens, the bread bowl.

Broccoli Cheese Soup

1/2 cup butter, softened
1/2 cup all purpose flour
8 cups chicken broth
2 (14 oz) bags frozen broccoli florets
1 onion, diced
1 tsp black pepper
1 cup heavy cream
4 cups shredded sharp cheddar cheese

Combine butter and flour with fork.

In large soup pot, combine broth, broccoli, onion, and pepper.  Bring to a boil over high heat.  Reduce heat and simmer for 20-25 minutes or until broccoli and onions are tender.

Add butter mixture, stirring until soup has thickened.  Slowly stir in heavy cream.  Add cheese 1 cup at a time, mixing well after each addition until cheese is melted.

I hope you enjoy it!

All You Need Is Love

Last night when I was bathing Dane, he decided to "swim" in the tub.  It was pretty darn cute, but I'm certainly biased.  Here was our conversation:

Dane:  "I'm swimming, Mommy!"
Me:  "Wow!  Where did you learn to swim like that?!"
Dane:  "Because I just am.  Because you love me, Mommy."

Woah.  Talk about a feel good moment.  Now, this isn't supposed to be a look-what-an-awesome-mom-I-am story.  I do the best I can, but there are moments when I feel like packing him up and sending him to Gramma's house.  Like tonight, when we were eating broccoli cheese soup (recipe here) and he tells me "I don't like broccoli.  I love broccoli.  Mommy, you made yummy soup.  Mommy, I don't like soup.  I only want bread."  It's just that I had this realization that if our kids know that we love them because we tell them a million times a day in words and gestures, then they can do anything.  And that makes you remember that yes, there are ten times minimum in day when you're frustrated to the point of tears, but your job is so worthwhile.  Your job is so important, the most important. And if your kids know you love them, you're doing it right regardless of the hundreds of things you've done wrong since the day of their birth.

The Short Version....

This was my day.  In light of recent circumstances that put everything into perspective, I was able to laugh at the day (and myself) and realize that it was just a bad day.  And not even a bad day, just an unorganized, poorly executed, nutty mess of a day.  I'll try to give you the short version story.

It started just after 5:30 this morning.  My car wouldn't crank.  This is completely my fault, like everything else today.  I knew that my key was wearing out about a year ago, but it hasn't been giving me any issues, and I didn't want to drive to the dealership in the next town to have a new key cut.  Well, we can call that poor choice #1 of the day.  This meant I had to wake up my family, get them dressed, take Dane to daycare and Jonathan to work, and get myself to work.... two hours late.

Once I get to work, I call the pediatrician's office to make an appointment.  Dane had been acting strangely on Thursday afternoon and Friday morning, but by the time I picked him up on Friday afternoon, he seemed back to his sweet self, so I figured I had nothing to worry about.  He's 2.  Two-year olds are moody.  Everyone knows this.  Plus, he never ran a fever and he's been eating and sleeping normally.  (You see what I'm doing here?  I'm already trying to explain away bad decision #2 -- not taking him to the pediatrician last week.)  Anyway, on Saturday afternoon I noticed some drainage in his ear.  He's had a ruptured eardrum before (on Christmas Day 2011) and it looked exactly like that.  I figured it was that again, and having been there before, I know there's not really much to be done but check to make sure the hole doesn't need to be patched.  Always preferring to take Dane to our pediatrician rather than sit in a waiting room with staph and flu and goodness knows what else, and the fact that he was back to his old self helped me make the decision to just make him an appointment today.

The pediatrician's appointment is scheduled for 3pm.  Perfect.  That leaves me enough time deposit my paycheck, drive to get my new key cut, go to the Sprint store to have them fix my phone (another thing I've put off for far too long), pick-up Dane from daycare and take him to the doctor.  Except I drive ten miles past the bank before I remember I need to go to the bank (dumb ass move #3). Turn around.  Make deposit.  Drive to dealership.  Get key cut.  Drive to Sprint.  The computer at Sprint was down so they couldn't process the insurance claim on my phone.  I tell them I need to leave to pick up my son for an appointment and they tell me to stop back by after his appointment.

At Dane's appointment, I'm asked which ear I spotted the drainage in.  I cannot for the life of me remember. I suddenly feel like one of those celebrity moms who leaves their child with a nanny all day.  Except I'm not skinny, stylish, or rich.  Erg.  I'm told he has a raging ear infection, complete with puss, and will need antibiotics.  I feel like a complete terd.  I've taken my child to the pediatrician for stupid nothings in the past and I miss when he actually needs to go.  Phooey on me.

I stop back my Sprint to process the claim on the phone, hit the pharmacy, and head home.  I get home at 4:30pm and decide to see if the new key fixes the car issue.  But the new key isn't anywhere.  I call the dealership.  They've been trying to reach me to tell me I left the key on the cashier counter (again, it's the next town over).  There's #4.

I think, "no problem". I'll run to the dealership with Dane and call to ask Jonathan to pick up something for dinner on his way home.  Dammit.  I have his car.  So at 4:30pm, I call Jonathan to tell him that I have to run to the dealership before they close to get my key (in the opposite direction of his work) and then I'll be there to pick him up.  The entire trip, Dane is hysterical, crying that he wants to go to Owen's house.  No changing the subject or lying about Owen not being home (again, phooey on me) will console him.

An hour later, family piled into the car, we head to Moe's to have an enjoyable meal.  When we get home, I fully expect to end this day on a high note by cranking up my car with the new key.  Except it doesn't crank.  Well, poop.

Love = Friendship + Fire

Today, I wore a 12 year old (what?!) Pan Dance (sorority formal) t-shirt for my walk.  As I was thinking about how long ago that was, I happened to remember that's the night I met Jonathan.  The shirt has the formal date on it (Oct 20, 2000) so I now know the exact date I met my husband.  Crazy.  I've known him over a third of my life.

By the way, in case you were wondering, he was playing video games in the ATO house.  We were introduced, he said "hey" and that was it.  No butterflies, no love at first sight.  I honestly only remembered his name because everyone called him by his last name, which is now our last name, and that's not an easy name to forget.

"Love is a friendship set on fire."  Jeremy Taylor (1613-1667)
We used this quote on our wedding favors.  It's hard to imagine life without him, and beyond strange to think that we almost never were.  Thank God for broken hearts.  :)