Miracles

All of my dedicated followers would be furious that we were to the hospital Tues. and haven't posted until now. Fortunately, there aren't any, so I'm off the hook.

Here's what happened...

We made our way to the children's hospital after what felt like a decade of waiting, then of course waited about half an hour past our appointment time before we met with him. His name is Dr. McPhalen and he is part of the cranio-something team. Right away when he came in, I got this weird vibe from him like we shouldn't be there. I found out talking to Alan later that he felt the same way. He asked us to explain why we thought we were there, which I did, then he examined Evan's head and said, "I think this is going to be a good visit for you guys.". Then he asked if we'd got the x-rays there, and we had, so he went out to check them. About 10 mins later he came to get us to show us the scans. It was pretty cool actually, but the important thing was that you could see that no parts of his skull were fusing, so my son does NOT have scaphocephaly! Yay Evan! Talk about a crappy couple of months. Oh, also my grandma passed as did my sister's cat. They were both REALLY old though.

Happy Easter!

Scaphocephaly

Now that I've had a chance to absorb things and think about it all, I have a much more positive view of it all. Like any good parent, I've been getting my misinformation from the Internet. The pictures of the little babies with IVs ontheir arms, and bandages covering their heads are heartbreaking, but I think I've come to the conclusion that I'm okay if he needs surgery. Obviously it's still scary and stressful, but I really think it will be okay. Quite a change from my last post where I seemed to have written him off completely. (WTF?). I guess that's a knee jerk for you.

Part of the whole surgery/problems with his head thing was that I worried how he would come out of it. Evan is absolutely the most cheerful, relaxed, wonderful kid. People who are around him a lot just can't believe what a happy kid he is all of the time. I suppose even for an adult you might worry how a surgery on thier head might affect them. Or maybe I just think and worry about bizarre things. After doing some hard thinking about the whole probable scenario, I have decided that I am pro surgery. I'd rather have him go through that than him become deformed or brain damaged. You think these things would have gone through my mind initially eh? I think that's another difference between the male and female brain. Alan, of course, was calm and logical from the start. I guess we balance each other out that way.

Tuesday I hope we'll actually get some information. They've been pretty vague so far, but the appointment with the plastic surgeon should provide at least a couple of answers.

Bad Day

Of all the ridicoulous scenarios where my children are threatened and I am near helpless to protest them, illness was not one. I remember both of my kids first sickness. Poor little things struggling to breathe through their plugged noses while they nurse. With my daughter I remember it being the first realization that I can't protect her from everything. With my son, I was angry at his overly-affectionate sister for spreading her germ. I wasn't qurie as vulnerable to the idea of him getting sick, which seems ironic now.

My son may have something called scaphocephaly. It is unconfirmed, but according to how the doctors are rushing the process, I'm pretty sure that will be the verdict. How do you live your life normally when soon your babys head may have to be sliced open? Everything else seems pretty silly and unimportant. And this is how I feel even before a diagnosis! I'm going to be a real headcase if/when the shit really hits the fan.

I don't really write about my kids that much. I didn't want this to be a "mommy blog" but I am a mommy, so it's unavoidable. I love my daughter with all of my heart, but she's two, and she's smart and she pushes my buttons like no other. There are no words for my feelings for my son. Really, no words. The words that come close are cheesy lines that you can find in Valentines Day cards. I love him so much. If anything happens to him I think it will wreck me. I hope to not become one of those parents who shuts down and neglects the surviving child, but after laying judgement on those people, I can suddenly undrstand how it might happen.

That won't happen though! We're going to come through this fine, and maybe my little ray of sunshine will show me how to smile and be optimistic. If he could talk, he'd probably tell me to RELAX!

Stupid Girl

Yesterday we saw an older girl(11-15) lifting her shirt for two younger boys (6-8) while three younger girls(4-6) watched on and, of course eventually started to imitate the older girl. I was furious watching it and so pointed it out to my husband. He watched for a minute and agreed that intervention was necessary. Since I was tending the kids, he went to talk to the girl. In hindsight, I should have gone. He went there as a father, with a 2 year old who could have been one of those younger girls, looking up to this girl who is teaching them that this is how to get attention. I saw it this way too, but I could also see it as that chubby girl who is getting all of the boys attention for once. Now, I will admit that I lifted my shirt at the cajoling of boys when I was young, but we were all the same age, and there were no younger ones getting influenced.

My husband stormed up to the girl, demanded to know where she lived, and when no answer came he asked how old the youngest of the group was. Three. "That is child abuse! I've got half a mind to call the police!". Threats of calling the cops and "you know better!". Now, please know that I believe the girl was totally in the wrong, if not criminally so since I'm pretty sure she was their babysitter, but I think threats are never the way to go. She was quite embarassed and very apologetic, which is good, but I still think a word about self respect would have been more valuable than arrest threats. I didn't do anything, and o really feel like I should have. If Veggie Tales have taught me nothing else, it's that doing nothing is the same as doing something wrong.

So now I have a plan. One of the girls involved in the whole thing walks with her mother down our street every morning to the bus, then the mom walks home. I was thinking I might stopthe mom to talk to her about what we saw. If that girl is her babysitter, I thinkshe would want to know what was going on. But also, I think that girl has self esteem issues and could use a heavy talk from people who love her. Not just to be made to feel like garbage by some neighbour. I think I'm coming off as too sympathetic, but maybe I am. I was furious that she was sending that message to the younger girls, but I know that it's coming from a vulnerable place.

Good thing no one reads this. It's drivel.

That Explains a Lot

I guess giving myself a topic didn't solve the issue of my posting infrequency. I did however have an epiphany! My blog is not about blogging, I just write so much about blogging because I have confidence issues. And to think, I didn't even need to pay a therapist! Okay so my confidence issues are still unsolved, but now I know that they're the root of all of my problems. It explains why it bothers me that noone reads me, and why it would bother me if they did. I don't see anything in the way of a solution, I'll just have to chew on that one for a while though.

The things I think about when I should be sleeping... The easy answers are the normal fears one might have when their most valuable and vulnerable things are not in their immediate viscinity, fire, break-ins, bad people etc. My brain has on more than one occasion taken these scenarios one step further. When I was pregnant with my son, I lay awake one night going over and over, and over what I would do to get myself and my daughter out of our van after driving off a bridge into the icy waters below. And if you want to know the truth, in the "fantasy" scenario it wasn't just any bridge, it was the San Francisco Golden Gate Bridge. The chances of me ever driving ACROSS the GGB ate slim to none, let alone driving OFF of it, so I don't know where this was all coming from. I can tell you though that I had a very good escape plan. It would only work, unfortunately, if the power windows still worked and the back door opens from the inside. Hopefully we never have to test that one.

I read a blog once that talked about how mommy blogs talk about losing their minds, and this blogger felt that if you were going crazy, you wouldn't know it. Well, I can say, besides spending hours planning an escape from a watery death, I have had many, many unstable thoughts/episodes. They always happen when I've had one or more nights with little or no sleep. It's like sane me is trapped inside my brain somewhere without any control, looking on in horror as my head spins around and pea soup spews from my mouth. Pea soup is of course a euphamism for the insanity du jour, usually screaming at my daughter or husband. Anyway, I'm not crazy right now, but I've been there and it's pretty easy to find the way back. I'm off to sleep now, hopefully...

Anybody Out There??

I wasn't going to tell anyone about this blog because the thought of someone reading what I've written really makes me nervous and shy. Let's be honest though, you don't write a blog without wanting someone to read it. Perhaps it was subconscious, but clearly I have been discouraged from posting since my words are just floating into oblivion. I actually thought I might find that reassuring, but that doesn't seem to be the case. I really don't know what it is I'm hoping for, but clearly I haven't achieved it. I know I still want to write, so I think I'll just keep posting when I have the chance, and when my brain is active, and hopefully I can make peace with my lonely existence in the blogosphere.

I was going to make an entry about the crazy thoughts I have when I should be sleeping, but I'll have to save that for another time.

A Confession

In 2004 the Calgary Flames went all the way to the Stanley Cup finals. That year we just happened to get an "8 game pack," or was it 7? That's not the point. The point is that as ticket holders, we were given the option to buy playoff tickets as well. Of course we did.

I will admit that I am not a hockey fan, but for a couple of months, I was. I jumped on that bandwagon with both feet. To recoup some of the cost of the tickets, we sold some and kept some so we could see the games. I can't remember which ones we saw, or which we sold, but I'm sure Alan could tell you, not just that, but who scored and what happened. I'm pretty sure we were at the fateful game where Calgary was up 3 games to 0, and the "judges" (officials?) discounted a goal that would have not only won them the game, but the cup. Yes, very intense stuff, but I'm a little off track here.

Not for the first time, I stood tall and proud while the Canadian national anthem was belted out by 15-20,000 Canadians. The difference in the experience at the playoffs was the sheer volume of it. Before every hockey game they sing the anthems of the participating teams countries, that was nothing new, but you've really never heard anything like this. The warm blanket of hope, pride and being part of something wrapped around you and everyone in the room with the raising of voices. I know volume does not reflect quality in regards to singing, but this was the exception. It didn't matter if you sounded awful, you just needed to be part of it. I imagine that people in Vancouver are expierencing something similar this week.

This brings me to my revelation. It's a strange, somewhat embarassing phenomina, but I've decided to share it anyway. In the last few bars of our national anthem I, without fail, get quite choked up. And by choked up, I mean that I have to choke back the overwhelming urge to bawl my eyes out. I really can't explain it, and it didn't actually originate with the 2004 playoffs, it was just a lot harder to control because of the enormity of it in that instance.

I would like to say that I think it's patriotism, love for my fellow man, or maybe just being overwhelmed by the beauty of thousands of people proudly rising their voices in unity, but I don't really think it's any of those things. Why not? Because the same tearfulness happens at superdogs...