Well, I guess the better question would be when did I forget how to pretend? It seems to come naturally to Leah, who has been everything from a 3 year old girl to a baby kangaroo to a top notch baker making amazing cupcakes for the masses....all just in the matter of a couple of hours of play.
It also seems to come naturally to my husband who just transformed himself from a Lion to an Elephant to a Kangaroo in a matter of minutes....all at the whim of his daughter who seems completely entranced by any and all animals noises he invented.
But, for me, it takes effort. Leah came to me today and said "Want some hot chocolate mama?" and I said "Oh, I'm sorry, honey, but we don't have any!"
She looked at me, cocked her head, dramatically put her hand on her hip, sighed deeply and said "Mama.... P R E T E N D hot chocolate.....and then rolled her eyes.
"OH! Right!" I said, and then drank the best cup of hot chocolate I've ever had!
It made me think, for a minute, about the importancee of the imagination. When you live in a reality in which you can magically create whatever you want at the drop of the hat, life is pretty good!
It never ceases to amaze me about how much a person who has only been on this planet for 3.5 years seems to know so much more about life than I do! Thank god I have many more years to learn from her!
Saturday, January 23, 2010
Friday, January 22, 2010
The Teen Years Are Going to Be....Trying
Ryan and I were sitting in the living room the other night, watching a little TV before bed. Leah had been "put to bed" more than an hour before, yet, there seemed to be quite a lot of thumping and bumping coming from her room. Every few minutes, I'd mute the TV to listen for signs of life after louder bumps that sounded as if they could have been painful. There would always be something going on so we new that she was alright. Besides, Rusty was with her, so chances are he would let us know if something was really wrong.
Anyway...a few moments of silence had passed when, suddenly, a VERY loud THUD caused some concern. I muted the TV again, listened, moved to the edge of my seat, listened a little harder and just when I was about to get up and run full boar up the stairs to check things out, we heard her bedroom door open. We called out, "Leah! Are you okay?" Timidly she said "Yes, mama"... "I'm okay." She walked closer to the stairs and called down "My butterflies fell down!"
(There is a purple butterfly mobile that hangs from a ceiling hook above her bed.
"Oh, are they okay?" I asked. "Yup, they're okay!" she said. By now, she was halfway down the stairs, holding the tangled mess of butterflies in her hand, wide eyed. Suddenly, the incident didn't seem so innocent, so I probed for more information.
"Leah? Why did the butterflies fall down?", I asked...suspiciously. I could see just the top of her head on the stairs....she is still not quite tall enough to clear the banister.
She peeked over the banister on tip toe and with that menacing smile I have come to both love and hate she said, as casually as if we were just discussing the weather....
"Well....the butterflies fell down because I was swinging on them and then I they fell and I fell and I hit the floor!"
Heaven help me.
Anyway...a few moments of silence had passed when, suddenly, a VERY loud THUD caused some concern. I muted the TV again, listened, moved to the edge of my seat, listened a little harder and just when I was about to get up and run full boar up the stairs to check things out, we heard her bedroom door open. We called out, "Leah! Are you okay?" Timidly she said "Yes, mama"... "I'm okay." She walked closer to the stairs and called down "My butterflies fell down!"
(There is a purple butterfly mobile that hangs from a ceiling hook above her bed.
"Oh, are they okay?" I asked. "Yup, they're okay!" she said. By now, she was halfway down the stairs, holding the tangled mess of butterflies in her hand, wide eyed. Suddenly, the incident didn't seem so innocent, so I probed for more information.
"Leah? Why did the butterflies fall down?", I asked...suspiciously. I could see just the top of her head on the stairs....she is still not quite tall enough to clear the banister.
She peeked over the banister on tip toe and with that menacing smile I have come to both love and hate she said, as casually as if we were just discussing the weather....
"Well....the butterflies fell down because I was swinging on them and then I they fell and I fell and I hit the floor!"
Heaven help me.
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
My Baby Girl is Growing Up
Leah is 3 and 1/2 years old, at least chronologically. From the day she was born people often made comments about how she always seemed so much older. Even at 5 weeks, I remember bringing her in to work to visit my co-workers and everyone was mesmerized by how much she seemed to take in. By how much she seemed to notice things. More than one person over the years has looked at her and said "she's an old soul".
There are, I suppose, a variety of theories about this. I tend to believe in re-incarnation and there have been times when I would have bet my life that my mother had come back through her own grand daughter. I've even thought that maybe she was someone I had never known but who had definitely been here before.
As she grows older, I'm feeling more and more that she is just.... Leah. She surprises me almost daily with her pranks and her jokes and her bursts of emotions. There is truly nothing better than seeing her hurtling her way towards me when I come in the door after a day at work....if you are anywhere between me and her when this happens, WATCH OUT...you will be knocked down!
She is becoming quite the prankster which I am sure comes as little to no surprise to anyone who knows Ryan and me. A few nights ago, I awoke for my middle of the night pee (which I had hoped would leave me after I had Leah, but never did). Leah woke up, too. We both felt a little dazed and were just sitting up in bed. Finally, she looked at me and said "What are you doing mama?" "I'm going to go to the bathroom" I said, yawning. I rubbed my eyes for a few minutes, finally got up and walked down the hall. When I got to the bathroom, she was already in there, lights on and sitting on the toilet. I was a little shocked because I had never actually seen her leave the bedroom. When I looked at her, she smirked and said "I tricked you, mama!" and laughed with delight.
She and I had fallen asleep on the couch one night. She likes to sleep in "The Garage". This is that small open place behind your knees when you are laying down and your knees are bent just enough to make some room. Ryan calls it "The Garage". When I woke up in the morning I did my best to get off the couch without disturbing her, which was pointless because she had become so intertwined between the blankets and my legs that I did not succeed. She rolled over, stretched her arms, yawned a bit, then looked at me with a smile and said "Mornin' Mama!". Had anyone dared to wake me up in this fashion, they probably would have lost an arm! (I realized just a few days ago that I used to cuddle up with my mother on the couch in the same way, I think I even have a picture of us lying together like that).
We have become crafting buddies. I have a whole slew of scrap booking type supplies that I haven't really used much of until the last few weeks and Leah has become addicted to! The first time she used some of my rubber stamps I showed her how to clean them off before putting them back away and now she does it on her own, without me having to remind her.
She is one million percent in love with "her friends". This is how she refers to my sister's 4 children. We are going to visit them and Poppie the first week of February. Every night when I get home from work, she asks me to count the days with her on the calendar until we will see them again. Regardless of the number at the end of the counting, she yells "YIPPEE" and claps her hands and does a little dance. Almost unable to contain herself with the excitement.
She is such a mix of me and Ryan that it cracks me up. She has always been independent which drives Ryan nuts. He keeps saying "Leah, you know, it is OKAY to ask for HELP. You don't have to do EVERYTHING by yourself!" (in the background, I am silently beaming, thinking "THAT'S MY GIRL!") Don't get me wrong, I like to help her, too, but I definitely get a smile on my face when I see her determination take her places that she wants to go.)
And she is a complete and total love bug. We visited grandma and grandpa last night. We were watching the "Bill Cosby, Himself" video in the living room and Leah was watching "Bambi" in the kitchen. Every few minutes, she would hurl herself from the kitchen into the living room, jump up on the couch, plant a kiss on someones cheek or forehead or arm or whatever part she could get to fastest and then run back to the kitchen. Her hugs and her kisses and her warm "I love you, mama"s choke me up every time.
And...the best thing that has happened of late is that she likes to sing. She makes up little songs about everything. The songs are usually long and kind of awkward, but she sings them with such relish you can't help but enjoy them. She sings about her day, about the toys she is playing with, about the visits to friends that are coming, about the snow falling down and landing on her outstretched tongue. My favorite part is that she doesn't do it as a performance, it is just her expressing herself. If she is caught in the act, she'll ham it up a little and then give a little bow at the end, but it is clear that she sings for herself and has no concern about what people might think who catch her in the act.
She is only 3 and 1/2 but she has amazed me every single one of those 12,775 days. I can't imagine what she'll show me next, and I am so excited to find out!
There are, I suppose, a variety of theories about this. I tend to believe in re-incarnation and there have been times when I would have bet my life that my mother had come back through her own grand daughter. I've even thought that maybe she was someone I had never known but who had definitely been here before.
As she grows older, I'm feeling more and more that she is just.... Leah. She surprises me almost daily with her pranks and her jokes and her bursts of emotions. There is truly nothing better than seeing her hurtling her way towards me when I come in the door after a day at work....if you are anywhere between me and her when this happens, WATCH OUT...you will be knocked down!
She is becoming quite the prankster which I am sure comes as little to no surprise to anyone who knows Ryan and me. A few nights ago, I awoke for my middle of the night pee (which I had hoped would leave me after I had Leah, but never did). Leah woke up, too. We both felt a little dazed and were just sitting up in bed. Finally, she looked at me and said "What are you doing mama?" "I'm going to go to the bathroom" I said, yawning. I rubbed my eyes for a few minutes, finally got up and walked down the hall. When I got to the bathroom, she was already in there, lights on and sitting on the toilet. I was a little shocked because I had never actually seen her leave the bedroom. When I looked at her, she smirked and said "I tricked you, mama!" and laughed with delight.
She and I had fallen asleep on the couch one night. She likes to sleep in "The Garage". This is that small open place behind your knees when you are laying down and your knees are bent just enough to make some room. Ryan calls it "The Garage". When I woke up in the morning I did my best to get off the couch without disturbing her, which was pointless because she had become so intertwined between the blankets and my legs that I did not succeed. She rolled over, stretched her arms, yawned a bit, then looked at me with a smile and said "Mornin' Mama!". Had anyone dared to wake me up in this fashion, they probably would have lost an arm! (I realized just a few days ago that I used to cuddle up with my mother on the couch in the same way, I think I even have a picture of us lying together like that).
We have become crafting buddies. I have a whole slew of scrap booking type supplies that I haven't really used much of until the last few weeks and Leah has become addicted to! The first time she used some of my rubber stamps I showed her how to clean them off before putting them back away and now she does it on her own, without me having to remind her.
She is one million percent in love with "her friends". This is how she refers to my sister's 4 children. We are going to visit them and Poppie the first week of February. Every night when I get home from work, she asks me to count the days with her on the calendar until we will see them again. Regardless of the number at the end of the counting, she yells "YIPPEE" and claps her hands and does a little dance. Almost unable to contain herself with the excitement.
She is such a mix of me and Ryan that it cracks me up. She has always been independent which drives Ryan nuts. He keeps saying "Leah, you know, it is OKAY to ask for HELP. You don't have to do EVERYTHING by yourself!" (in the background, I am silently beaming, thinking "THAT'S MY GIRL!") Don't get me wrong, I like to help her, too, but I definitely get a smile on my face when I see her determination take her places that she wants to go.)
And she is a complete and total love bug. We visited grandma and grandpa last night. We were watching the "Bill Cosby, Himself" video in the living room and Leah was watching "Bambi" in the kitchen. Every few minutes, she would hurl herself from the kitchen into the living room, jump up on the couch, plant a kiss on someones cheek or forehead or arm or whatever part she could get to fastest and then run back to the kitchen. Her hugs and her kisses and her warm "I love you, mama"s choke me up every time.
And...the best thing that has happened of late is that she likes to sing. She makes up little songs about everything. The songs are usually long and kind of awkward, but she sings them with such relish you can't help but enjoy them. She sings about her day, about the toys she is playing with, about the visits to friends that are coming, about the snow falling down and landing on her outstretched tongue. My favorite part is that she doesn't do it as a performance, it is just her expressing herself. If she is caught in the act, she'll ham it up a little and then give a little bow at the end, but it is clear that she sings for herself and has no concern about what people might think who catch her in the act.
She is only 3 and 1/2 but she has amazed me every single one of those 12,775 days. I can't imagine what she'll show me next, and I am so excited to find out!
Thursday, January 14, 2010
A Shout Out to Mercy Hospital
I received the strangest phone call in my life this morning. A woman by the name of Michelle Blackburn, a patient representative from Mercy Hospital called to discuss my experiences there. This is not weird. Most hospitals send a survey form or something of the like after hospital stays.
The weird part is this: She was calling because she or someone in her department had found and read my blog entry about my hospital experience! Seems her department conducts regular Internet searches to see if Mercy Hospital is mentioned!!!! This is something I NEVER expected!
She was extremely polite, helpful, and seemed genuinely interested in hearing about my visit to the hospital. She apologized for the frustrations I experienced (most of which were not really anything that could be helped in the moment) and ensured me that the Emergency Room at Mercy is undergoing some renovations and changes and that soon there will be more staff and better accommodations. This is great news.
So, Michelle, if you're reading this, thanks for your call and your kind words. Mercy just moved up a few notches on my list! ;)
The weird part is this: She was calling because she or someone in her department had found and read my blog entry about my hospital experience! Seems her department conducts regular Internet searches to see if Mercy Hospital is mentioned!!!! This is something I NEVER expected!
She was extremely polite, helpful, and seemed genuinely interested in hearing about my visit to the hospital. She apologized for the frustrations I experienced (most of which were not really anything that could be helped in the moment) and ensured me that the Emergency Room at Mercy is undergoing some renovations and changes and that soon there will be more staff and better accommodations. This is great news.
So, Michelle, if you're reading this, thanks for your call and your kind words. Mercy just moved up a few notches on my list! ;)
Monday, January 11, 2010
My Very Merry MRSA New Year
Well 2010 decided to welcome itself into my life with a BANG!
On New Year's Eve, I noticed a small "something" on my foot that was bothersome. I took note of it, but not much of a note since it seemed pretty innocuous. I went to our New Year's Eve party and enjoyed myself and didn't think much of it.
By the morning of New Year's Day, I was singing a different tune. The "something" on my foot had definitely become bigger and painful and larger. By the end of the day I was in so much pain that I couldn't find any relief. Child birth was painful....but at least there was some relief. The contractions came and went and I could at least catch my breath in between. This pain, however, had no end. No matter how I sat, laid, stood, moved, I could not find a place to put my foot that gave me any kind of relief. It throbbed and ached and burned. I cried and yelled and moaned. It was NOT pretty. By the evening, the tiny sore that had begun the day before had spread across the bottom of my foot and over the edge to the top of my foot. When the redness and swelling began to spread over the top of my foot, to the ER we went.
We chose the ER at the Mercy Ambulatory Care Center since it was basically closest. But, since it is not attached to a hospital, there was no chance for immediate admission. We arrived at the ER at about 8pm. By 2am, I'd received a pain pill (praise God) and a dose of IV antibiotics. At that point, the wound remained closed, so there was nothing to culture and therefore nothing to identify the source of the infection. Despite my cries of "ITS MRSA DAMNIT!!", little could be done to treat me for what would become something much worse....I was sent home with a generic prescription for antibiotic, a Sharpie marker line across the top of my foot to keep track of if/when the infection were to continue to spread, and instructions to give the antibiotics 2 days to work and to return to the ER if things worsened.
On Monday, 1/4/10 I saw my primary care doctor who took one look at my foot, picked her chin up off the floor, and sent me running back to the ER. She assured me that it "did not look good" (no shit) and that I should prepare to be admitted. I arrived at the ER, this time at Mercy Hospital, at 5:00pm. I was triage-d and registered and then left to wait. At 8:30pm, when no one had seen me yet, the triage nurse checked my vitals and offered her apologies for my prolonged wait for care. It seems that a post-new year's influx of car accidents had collided with an unexpected list of staff that had called in sick and therefore, unless your heart had literally exploded, it would be "hours" before one could expect to be seen. At 10:30pm, I was called behind the ER doors and placed, precariously, in a stretcher in the hallway underneath a temporary computer printed sign that read "Ambulance 10". At best, a makeshift place to be examined. At worst, a horrifically non-private spot in which to endure more hours of pain and un-treated worry. With each hour that passed, I watched as my foot got hotter and redder and bigger and the infection spread past the Sharpie line from the first visit, 6 inches up my leg, across my foot, completely encompassing my foot and ankle.
Occasionally, a nurse would "pop by" and ask how I was doing. Mercifully, after my repeated requests for pain relief, I was given a pain pill and then an IV (which was hung from a hook on the rod above my hallway bed that was intended to hold a shower curtain) of fluids.
Finally, at 2:00am, after hours of listening to other patients yelling, vomiting, screaming, moaning, being seen by medical professionals, Dr. Cornell graced me with her presence for about 5 minutes, in which she looked at my foot, ordered IV antibiotics, and admitted me to the hospital. At 6:00am on 1/5/10 I was transported to the sixth floor and, mercifully, to a "real" bed. After a few hours of admissions questions, registrations, medical histories, my continued speeches about our MRSA-cursed family, blood draws, vitals checks, more IV antibiotics and more pain meds I felt comfortable enough to sleep.
Every medical professional that came anywhere near me over the next few days heard the story about our MRSA-colored past. Leah's MRSA infection at 15 months old that hospitalized her at Albany Med for a week and her follow-up infections of the same. Ryan's MRSA infection that went all the way to the bone after his leg surgery and hospitalized him for 10 days at Erie County Medical Center. Despite the stories and the warnings and the considerable knowledge I offered, I was stopped with shaking heads and "Oh, I don't think so....it looks more like strep" (this particular gem from the Infectious Diseases Doctor).
Eventually, on Wednesday 1/6 they had gotten preliminary results that it was Staph Aureus, even then, the ID doc still denied that it could be MRSA. The next day, when my room-mate was removed and suddenly the nurses entered the room in gowns, gloves, and masks, I said "So, I see the sensitivities are back and it is MRSA after all?" Would it have hurt even one person to have said "Oh, yes...you were right after all!" No such luck for me!
So, after days of IV Vancomycin and daily blood draws at 5am, I was released to the world with Oral Clindamycin on Saturday, January 9 at 11:30am...all evidence of the deadly intruder gone, except for a small cut on my little toe.
And, today, I am back at my desk at work, which was beautifully adorned by Welcome Back Flowers. Thank god for "normal" life. I never thought I'd feel so anxious to return to work....but I am SO GLAD to be here and even more glad to be ALIVE!
The moral of the story is....if you have even the slightest inclination that you have an infection, get to the doctor or hospital ASAP and stand up for yourself! You know your body and your medical history better than anyone else...make sure the doctors know it!
On New Year's Eve, I noticed a small "something" on my foot that was bothersome. I took note of it, but not much of a note since it seemed pretty innocuous. I went to our New Year's Eve party and enjoyed myself and didn't think much of it.
By the morning of New Year's Day, I was singing a different tune. The "something" on my foot had definitely become bigger and painful and larger. By the end of the day I was in so much pain that I couldn't find any relief. Child birth was painful....but at least there was some relief. The contractions came and went and I could at least catch my breath in between. This pain, however, had no end. No matter how I sat, laid, stood, moved, I could not find a place to put my foot that gave me any kind of relief. It throbbed and ached and burned. I cried and yelled and moaned. It was NOT pretty. By the evening, the tiny sore that had begun the day before had spread across the bottom of my foot and over the edge to the top of my foot. When the redness and swelling began to spread over the top of my foot, to the ER we went.
We chose the ER at the Mercy Ambulatory Care Center since it was basically closest. But, since it is not attached to a hospital, there was no chance for immediate admission. We arrived at the ER at about 8pm. By 2am, I'd received a pain pill (praise God) and a dose of IV antibiotics. At that point, the wound remained closed, so there was nothing to culture and therefore nothing to identify the source of the infection. Despite my cries of "ITS MRSA DAMNIT!!", little could be done to treat me for what would become something much worse....I was sent home with a generic prescription for antibiotic, a Sharpie marker line across the top of my foot to keep track of if/when the infection were to continue to spread, and instructions to give the antibiotics 2 days to work and to return to the ER if things worsened.
On Monday, 1/4/10 I saw my primary care doctor who took one look at my foot, picked her chin up off the floor, and sent me running back to the ER. She assured me that it "did not look good" (no shit) and that I should prepare to be admitted. I arrived at the ER, this time at Mercy Hospital, at 5:00pm. I was triage-d and registered and then left to wait. At 8:30pm, when no one had seen me yet, the triage nurse checked my vitals and offered her apologies for my prolonged wait for care. It seems that a post-new year's influx of car accidents had collided with an unexpected list of staff that had called in sick and therefore, unless your heart had literally exploded, it would be "hours" before one could expect to be seen. At 10:30pm, I was called behind the ER doors and placed, precariously, in a stretcher in the hallway underneath a temporary computer printed sign that read "Ambulance 10". At best, a makeshift place to be examined. At worst, a horrifically non-private spot in which to endure more hours of pain and un-treated worry. With each hour that passed, I watched as my foot got hotter and redder and bigger and the infection spread past the Sharpie line from the first visit, 6 inches up my leg, across my foot, completely encompassing my foot and ankle.
Occasionally, a nurse would "pop by" and ask how I was doing. Mercifully, after my repeated requests for pain relief, I was given a pain pill and then an IV (which was hung from a hook on the rod above my hallway bed that was intended to hold a shower curtain) of fluids.
Finally, at 2:00am, after hours of listening to other patients yelling, vomiting, screaming, moaning, being seen by medical professionals, Dr. Cornell graced me with her presence for about 5 minutes, in which she looked at my foot, ordered IV antibiotics, and admitted me to the hospital. At 6:00am on 1/5/10 I was transported to the sixth floor and, mercifully, to a "real" bed. After a few hours of admissions questions, registrations, medical histories, my continued speeches about our MRSA-cursed family, blood draws, vitals checks, more IV antibiotics and more pain meds I felt comfortable enough to sleep.
Every medical professional that came anywhere near me over the next few days heard the story about our MRSA-colored past. Leah's MRSA infection at 15 months old that hospitalized her at Albany Med for a week and her follow-up infections of the same. Ryan's MRSA infection that went all the way to the bone after his leg surgery and hospitalized him for 10 days at Erie County Medical Center. Despite the stories and the warnings and the considerable knowledge I offered, I was stopped with shaking heads and "Oh, I don't think so....it looks more like strep" (this particular gem from the Infectious Diseases Doctor).
Eventually, on Wednesday 1/6 they had gotten preliminary results that it was Staph Aureus, even then, the ID doc still denied that it could be MRSA. The next day, when my room-mate was removed and suddenly the nurses entered the room in gowns, gloves, and masks, I said "So, I see the sensitivities are back and it is MRSA after all?" Would it have hurt even one person to have said "Oh, yes...you were right after all!" No such luck for me!
So, after days of IV Vancomycin and daily blood draws at 5am, I was released to the world with Oral Clindamycin on Saturday, January 9 at 11:30am...all evidence of the deadly intruder gone, except for a small cut on my little toe.
And, today, I am back at my desk at work, which was beautifully adorned by Welcome Back Flowers. Thank god for "normal" life. I never thought I'd feel so anxious to return to work....but I am SO GLAD to be here and even more glad to be ALIVE!
The moral of the story is....if you have even the slightest inclination that you have an infection, get to the doctor or hospital ASAP and stand up for yourself! You know your body and your medical history better than anyone else...make sure the doctors know it!
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