Mommy Mondays: Count Your Blessings; no ER Trip This Time


Well about 4 years ago we packed up our home and moved to Hawaii. We were idealistic and thought this would be an adventure of a lifetime. Id never thought I’d move away from my home Midwestern state and here I was, with kids in tow, hopping a plane to live an ocean away.

So four years later and hear we are again. Watching all our belongings being wrapped like mundane brown Christmas presents and loaded into a wood crate to shipped to our new home.

When the movers first arrived today, three hour late, I stood in the garage like a stalker and watched them pack it up. I would like to say I got teary eyed, but that would be a lie. I was sad to see it all go but more numb. Should I be happy? Sad? Excited? Nervous? I really didn’t know. Hubs seemed to be overly excited. Trying to help where he could and pacing back and forth like an expectant parent. It was then I reflected back to our first and disasterous pcs.

It went something like this:

We lived in southern Alabama. A rural town on the outskirts of another semi-rural town. The movers drive up from Florida straight into a storm; both literally and figuratively. Within an hour of them arriving I notice Diva was acting lethargic. Not only lethargic but lifeless. After taking a temperature, I realized something was seriously wrong. The themointer read 105.

Through wind, hail, thunder and lighting; I drove her to the nearest ER. After some tests, it was reviled she had some sort of infection; which to this day is still unknown. Diva and I spent the next six hours in the ER during a hail and tornado producing storm while Hubs was left in charge of the movers and Bug. Upon our release I frantically called Hubs. Letting him know we were on our way. With no cell service in the ER I thought he would have been panic stricken. However, he seemed oddly calm.

When I arrived home I found out why. Because he was trying to do his best to watch and help the movers, he had left Bug unattended in front of the tv. Only problem was he wasn’t in front of the tv. Bug had wandered into another room and found a open bottle of weed killer; which he drank!

So when I arrived poison control was on the phone with Hubs and the packers were wiping up Bug and the floor.

Needless to say Bug was fine. But not our car or the suitcases we had packed in a car topper on the roof of our car. Seems our car topper wasn’t as water proof as advertised. Instead, the storm had drenched our suitcases causing the black dye in them to leak onto our clothes dying and staining them permanently.

So here I sit 8 hours after our packets started this morning feeling blessed nothing dramatic or drastic has happened. Any why? Because I pawned my kids off on other people for the day. Lesson learned.

At least no one ended up in the ER


Wordy Wednesday- Lumbar Puncture (evil!)

Lumbar Puncture is a seemingly acknowledgable realization that it will hurt. You hear the word lumbar puncture, or spinal tap, and most people instantly know it evolves pain and needles going into your spine. No normal mentally stable person sees it as a easy light-hearted procedure fixed with a band-aid at the end. According to the Mayo Clinic – “Lumbar puncture (spinal tap) is performed in your lower back, in the lumbar region. During lumbar puncture, a needle is inserted between two lumbar bones (vertebrae) to remove a sample of cerebrospinal fluid — the fluid that surrounds your brain and spinal cord to protect them from injury.”

Oh how I love doctors {snicker} and I love how they tell you to be on bed rest; when your a mom- of three- with special needs kids- and a military wife. If anyone of our readers has ever been pregnant or had medical issues that required this, I’m sure the directions came with quite a laugh.

The first time for me was when I was 29 weeks pregnant with Diva and Bug was only 16 months old. She was impatient; and still is. We were living in Fort Rucker, AL. Think boonies, with lots of helicopters and peanut fields. Don’t live there if you have a peanut allergy. But it can be a pregnant woman’s dream! Driving into town early in the morning and get a amazing whiff of peanut butter in the air. It would send me into a ranging pregnancy hormone induced food coma. No grocery store was safe. Which was also how I discovered that Piggy Wiggly was a actual brick and mortar store and not something cooked up by the movie scene builders like in Loony Tunes and Acme. I honestly thought Piggly Wiggly was made up. Sort of like the 555 prefixes in movies. I was scared to discover the store was real. I haven’t been in one since. Yes, you can all laugh.

These past few days I have spent thinking about the past and how far we have come and how much our family has grown and changed. From peanuts to pineapples I often say. Your probably wondering what I am even yammering on about. I meant to type this up for yesterday, but was still vastly recovering from some medical issues I experienced last week. In hine sight, the results are humorous, yet still knife stabbingly painful. But Ill let you in on my pain.

I had a spinal tap (lumbar puncture) last Wednesday. They are testing for a cause to some symptoms I have been experiencing. At this point I am really hoping for at least a treatment plan, but a diagnosis is a bonus. They removed 12cc of spinal fluid and 4 vials of blood. I have had a spinal tap before and experienced excruciating headaches. But it was also under major duress on a gurney in the ER with out numbification. Trust me- you want numbification when they are sticking a very long needle into your spine.

So I figured with a scheduled appointment, in the radiology department (not in the ER) with a actual radiologist with x rays doing the procedure; I might make it off that exam table on my own two feet. Nevertheless, as a precaution, they sling loaded me onto a bed and rolled me into recovery.


My first realization that something wasn’t going to be right, was the fact that when I told the nurse my back was hurting they assured me it was just the local wearing off. Who cares that some magical mystery murdering man was stabbing my hip with a theoretical 14 inch knife. Then slashing it down my thigh every movement I made. Just saying; guess that didn’t count. After a hour I was loaded into the car and we drove home to pick up the girls from care. I was instructed to be on bed rest for at least the rest of the day. Having prior experience with the sides effects, I didn’t need to be instructed twice. But so far, no headaches! YEA, YEa, Yea, yea….

It was all a illusion… A magical world, my mind decided to invent to keep my self sane, while the chaos of my household surrounded me. Hubs was amazing. He picked the kids up from school, dealt with their tutors and therapists, feed, bathed then, read to them, sang to them and kissed them goodnight. But as we all know, moms have our own ways of running the house. You vacuum after every meal; make the kids brush their teeth in the shower to prevent toothpaste art on the mirror; and brush their wet hair BEFORE going to bed! GAH! But I didn’t complain because I didn’t care. He took the initiative to and never asked for for help, or what shampoo they use, or what to feed them for dinner. {HE WAS AMAZING}

That first night I was semi-conscious. Basically, my brain was dehydrated and like after a long run, needed refueling and rest. I figured the next day I would be golden. I talked to Hubs about driving the kids the .5 miles to school. He disagreed and felt I would be able to make it, magical murdering man stabbing me in my hip and all. I made it about….. .25 miles before I called him at PT to come pick up my sorry butt. It was then the realization that no normal drugs were going to help this pain. Off to the ER I went. One hour later, hugging my pill bottles, I settled down into bed wrapped in my warm blanky… and then all hell broke lose.

The recovery from a spinal tap is a tricky thing. Laying down flat your cerebral fluid levels calm down. You feel perfectly fine. So fine in fact you feel great. You even can say you feel amazing. And that my friends in when your mind lies! Lies like a rug on the floor.

The next thing you know, you feel great. Decide its time for a shower and a little freshening up. Until about two step past the bed. The immense pressure from the low spinal fluid hits. Making you feel like your ears are going to explode, which renders your equilibrium null and void. You hit your knees on the ground hard and try grasping for the bedspread to hoist yourself back up. But its too late. The headache is so severe, you go blind and can’t see. Which then leads us to the awesome realization…. your going to throw up. But you can’t see and you can’t move. You have no idea where you are in the room in relationship to bathroom. Oh yes folks, it was AWEsome.

Don’t get up. Ever. My happy pills didn’t work on that pain. But I will forever be indebted for my dad telling me to take Ibuprofen.


*no babies were harmed in the production of this blog post. Even mad, she is SOO cute!

Wordy Wenesday – ACC

So I had a great post all planned out. lt was gonna introduce you all to MOPS or if you already know about them let you know how I love them. And then life happened and now I will sadly define ACC.

ACC (Acute Care Clinic) • “The Acute Care Clinic provides urgent care to patients experiencing acute illnesses or injuries. Our beneficiaries include active duty and retired military personnel, their family members, and other DoD/Tricare beneficiaries.” Via US Army Health Clinic Schofield Barracks, Hawaii.

I’m not sure how long the wait is based on your location but here we have mainly waited about 30 min before we are seen. And today was no different.

We were happily planning on the beach when Bug fell. He tried to stop himself with his hand and a rock cut into it. The first call I made was to his ABA and the second was to Hubs. Luckily for us his ABA was able to go with us too the ACC. It took 5 male nurses to hold Bug down while his ABA covered he arm with a sheet shielding him from seeing what was going on.


Two stitches later and we were out the door. But boy you should have seen the looks and stares we got as we left. I think we emotionally scared a few kids.

got thong?


My husband is one of the most helpful, considerate, and loving people that I know. He is able to keep his cool in the most stressful situations, and keep an objective perspective when things get hectic. He also always makes me laugh.

One of my favorite family stories is the birth of our first son. He was born via emergency C-section 4 weeks early. I have type 1 diabetes and use an insulin pump, and had a relatively complication free pregnancy up to that point. I was going to the doctor for fetal monitoring 2-3 times a week, just to monitor our son’s progress and to make sure he was doing okay. He was an incredibly large baby, at my last ultrasound at 34 weeks, the doctor guessed him to be about 9 pounds already! I am only about 5’2”, so you can imagine what I looked like. A beach ball. A beach ball who swallowed a watermelon. So on May 5, 2008 just one day shy of 36 weeks along, I headed to my regularly scheduled appointment. I was wearing a sundress, flip-flops, and sunglasses. I had a thermos full of water with lemon, and I was ready to put my feet up and take it easy while they did the monitoring. Everything was fine at first, but they had a hard time seeing what they needed to see to give me the all clear to head home. Then I saw a look of concern cross my nurse’s face and she went to get my doctor. That was the first time I had any worry about what was going on.

“The baby is not responding well, his movements and heart rate are not where we want them to be. We’re going to have to do the C-section now,” my doctor told me.

I couldn’t believe it. I wasn’t supposed to have a baby today. I still had another month until my due date. Another two weeks until his lungs were fully developed. But, they immediately began prepping me, and I knew this was really happening.

“Can someone call my husband?” I asked, praying that he could get there in time.

He was active duty in the army and currently attending flight school. Today was the first day he would be flying his helicopter, and I had no idea even where he was, or if he would be able to make it. When we said goodbye as he left for work that morning, we had no idea we would be having our little boy in just a few, short hours.

The next minutes flew by as the got me ready for the operating room and tried to reach my husband. The nurse told me she had gotten through, and that he had said he would try to make it as fast as he could.

“We will try to wait as long as we can,” the doctor reassured me, but I could see the worry in his eyes.

The nurses were getting ready to wheel me into O.R., when I heard the doctor’s voice down the hallway.

“There he is!”

I knew at that moment my husband had made it in time and I immediately felt so much more at peace. He quickly swapped his army uniform for the O.R. gear and I thought he never looked cuter. Already, he looked like a new dad.

As I said before, we knew the baby was going to be big. The C-section went very well, and when the doctor lifted out our not-so-little guy, he exclaimed, “Good Lord!”

10 lbs. 11 oz. That’s how big our son was just before 36 weeks gestation. We couldn’t believe it! He was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen, and hearing him cry and knowing he was okay was the most amazing sound I had ever heard.

So, the point of this story was not only to share my son’s awesome entrance into this world. I started with how awesome my husband was, how considerate, how he is able to keep a level head in the most stressful situations. And, how he always makes me laugh. Since I had been expecting just a normal doctor’s appointment on the day my son was born, I had not brought my hospital bag with me, or even packed one yet. The nursery was completely ready, with all the clothes washed, tags removed, and hung in the closet. But, I had completely neglected to pack my own bag. Kids first, mother last, right?

So after our son was born, he was doing great in the NICU at another hospital (that’s another story). While I recovered, my husband ran home to try to get some sleep, go to work and fly again, and to pack and bring a bag back for me. Later that day, when he came back to the hospital, I looked through the bag for some lotion. He had done a great job. He brought me a pillow, a blanket my mother had made, some toiletries, and I saw a pile of clothes at the bottom for me to wear when it was time to go home. Knowing that was still a few days away, I didn’t worry too much about those.

When I was discharged a few days later, I stood in my room’s bathroom on wobbly feet to get dressed. I looked in the bag to get out all my clothes so I could change, and could not find any underwear. I looked and looked and could not find any.

“Did he not pack any?” I thought to myself. I mean, it had definitely been a stressful few days, so it was not a stretch to think they had just not made it into the bag. That’s when I saw them and realized why I hadn’t seen them in the first place. There it was, the smallest thong I owned in the bottom of the bag. I blinked and looked again, and a smile crossed my lips. My husband, who could handle insanely chaotic situations, had been stretched thin enough to not think about what he was actually putting in my bag to wear. Just trying to pack a bag as fast as he could so he could get back to the hospital. To me. To our new precious little boy. I loved him so much in that moment and as he always seems to be able to do, he made me laugh.

I was probably going to have to tell him that my thong days were over for a while, though.