Huckleberry part two.

When last we saw the not-so-brave mom of Huckleberry, she was sitting with her head between her knees in the hallway outside the exam room as they poked and prodded sweet Baby BooBoo for a blood draw and an IV.

Sigh.

He looked so tiny. So tiny, impossibly tiny on that exam room bed with a diaper wrapped around his little arm to keep it from bending. He was so precious, giving me a sweet, fragile little smile as I very nervously picked him up. The IV was dripping and the nebulizer was buzzing and I was freaking out. A different doctor came to examine him and then we were left for hours to ourselves worrying and comforting each other and our baby. Finally he rested, sleeping peacefully for an hour before they came in to poke and prod at him again.

Eventually they ordered a chest x-ray. Have you ever seen the iron maiden thing they put babies in for a chest x-ray? Once again I was not cool at all. I would have been tough, but Zach was there and he was being tough so I went into the waiting room and cried some more. After another long wait we were told that his lungs looked good, no pneumonia, just the same old Bronchiolitis and that they had decided against the lumbar puncture as he had no signs of meningitis. Hallelujah! We were released until we met the pediatric neurologist in the morning.

Dr. D met us at the front door of his closed office building at 9 am the day after Christmas, coffee in hand. He was McDreamy in person. Scrubs, coffee and an ego. The kind of ego you want a neurologist to have. He was friendly and reassuring, taking his time to explain everything and make us feel comfortable. He ordered the EEG immediately, but said we could wait on the MRI because Huck should be sedated and he wanted Huck’s lungs to heal.

A mere two days later Huck was back at the hospital, a million little electrodes attached to his head, taped down to a table, with Disney playing on the tv. It was a little¬† Clockwork Orange, if I am being honest. I crawled into the bed next to him, stroking his cheek and whispering shhhhhh, shhhhh boo boo, it’s okay. shhhhhh.

The woman running the eeg smiled and said “he likes that, it’s helping him” I saw definitive proof that a mother’s touch, a mother’s voice can calm her baby’s brainwaves. That part was really cool. I mean, we knew that…I wish we never saw it, but still it was cool.

And now we wait. We still wait. Dr D was out of town and now we are waiting on him to read the EEG and Huck to be well enough to have his MRI. Soon. He had some serious steroids and antibiotics this past week and they have really made a difference.

Limbo. That’s where we are, but I have to say that Huck seems fine! He is starting to show his smiley personality more and more. Yesterday he decided that sitting was a good idea! All I want in this world is my guys to be okay.¬† I sneak in and kiss Boss’ warm sleepy cheeks and think how amazing it is that he was once this tiny baby and how he plays drums and knows the alphabet. Who will Huckleberry be? I can’t wait to watch him grow.

(and yeah, I took a picture. whaddya want? I’m a blogger.)

 

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why aren’t donuts a recognized food group?

In the midst of Huck fighting off whatever it is that is keeping my poor guy so sick; and in combination with the Boss finally reaching his why-is-everyone-freaking-about Huck-and-not-about-me-so-I-think-i’ll-just-forget-about-being-potty-trained limit, there is me. Before this whole tempest began I signed on as one of the iVoices to participate in the weight loss challenge for the new year. You know what that means, right? It means if I cave and freak out and eat two plates of nachos and a pint of ice cream I am accountable to all of iVillage. (not that I did, mind you. and what do you mean a pint isn’t a single serving?) For a split second in between Christmas and New years I thought about giving iVillage a call and saying that I couldn’t possibly do this with everything that was going on, they would have understood. But then I really thought about it and I decided that yes I could. Eating well is an everyday thing. I am in control of nothing at the moment, except how I react to what’s going on. I can chose to eat everything in sight and cry or I can chose to put my babies in the stroller or carrier and go for a walk to the playground.

A walk would be better for both my butt and my toddler who is just DONE being cooped up with a sick brother.

I can chose to order a pizza and eat it all or I can chose to order lighter fare and then have a dance party with The Boss. We love a rocking dance party round here, don’t you?

And if I should fail one day, and you find me shoveling snickers bars down my gullet, then my guess is that iVillage, being the largest womens website like, ever, will understand. I’m actually really happy to be able to participate right now, it’ll help keep me sane. ish.

Hopefully we will have some answers from the EEG soon, and have MRI scheduled. Huck has to be sedated for that so chance of stress eating will be high. Hold me.

 

*iVillage compensates me for my video work. If only I could convince them to pay me to not eat snickers.

I am April’s Fool.

April Fools Day is my least favorite day of the year. Worse than tax day, worse than my birthday. The. Worst. Day. That is because I am gullible. With a capital G-GULLIBLE. I fall for anything and everything even when I warn myself to be wary, I can’t help it!  Along with klutziness I would say it is one of my worst faults and best qualities.
I have fallen for some of the worlds biggest scams. I mean…I’ve never given anyone money, but I have sent baby presents to people on message boards who are complete trolls. Bonzai kittens? Oh yeah. My very own mother is pregnant? WHAT? But, ok! I believe. Of course she is. The earth is flat? Totally. (I ditched school. A lot. Also, I didn’t fall for that one. I had that earth marble during the three minutes that marbles were cool and those babies were ROUND. Marbles don’t lie. That’s a fact.)
I usually hide out of the day that shall not be named. When all of your friends are brilliant actors and artists practical jokes come intricately and well planned.

And I am always the victim.

I just want so badly to believe. I’m like Ann Frank that way. ( Relax people, Obviously the Holocaust-horrific & AFD- mildly annoying.) Even after all this time I can’t fathom that think practical jokes are funny. They seem so purposely mean, and so often are at the hands of not mean people! I just can’t comprehend that people enjoy hurting others. I’m talking every day, not just on the 4/1.
April Fools is a lot easier when you don’t know anyone in town. I’m not so stressed about it today. I’m feeling fairly confident that the all too familiar sting of humiliation might  be skipped this year.
Only two things are working against me.

  1. I am married to the Lying Liar Who Lies
  2. The New Computer God’s are playing with me. The totally RIGHT internet key is not working on my brand new pretty red netbook. So, Ha on me. 

The Puppy Bear didn’t fare so well today. He got all excited and wiggly to ride in the see-ay-are to go Pet-Smart and then trickedoo! April fools, Puppy Bear! You’re getting groomed!!

Sorry Puppy Bear,  but dangit you are so cute.

I am April’s Fool.

April Fools Day is my least favorite day of the year. Worse than tax day, worse than my birthday. The. Worst. Day. That is because I am gullible. With a capital G-GULLIBLE. I fall for anything and everything even when I warn myself to be wary, I can’t help it!  Along with klutziness I would say it is one of my worst faults and best qualities.
I have fallen for some of the worlds biggest scams. I mean…I’ve never given anyone money, but I have sent baby presents to people on message boards who are complete trolls. Bonzai kittens? Oh yeah. My very own mother is pregnant? WHAT? But, ok! I believe. Of course she is. The earth is flat? Totally. (I ditched school. A lot. Also, I didn’t fall for that one. I had that earth marble during the three minutes that marbles were cool and those babies were ROUND. Marbles don’t lie. That’s a fact.)
I usually hide out of the day that shall not be named. When all of your friends are brilliant actors and artists practical jokes come intricately and well planned.

And I am always the victim.

I just want so badly to believe. I’m like Ann Frank that way. ( Relax people, Obviously the Holocaust-horrific & AFD- mildly annoying.) Even after all this time I can’t fathom that think practical jokes are funny. They seem so purposely mean, and so often are at the hands of not mean people! I just can’t comprehend that people enjoy hurting others. I’m talking every day, not just on the 4/1.
April Fools is a lot easier when you don’t know anyone in town. I’m not so stressed about it today. I’m feeling fairly confident that the all too familiar sting of humiliation might  be skipped this year.
Only two things are working against me.

  1. I am married to the Lying Liar Who Lies
  2. The New Computer God’s are playing with me. The totally RIGHT internet key is not working on my brand new pretty red netbook. So, Ha on me. 

The Puppy Bear didn’t fare so well today. He got all excited and wiggly to ride in the see-ay-are to go Pet-Smart and then trickedoo! April fools, Puppy Bear! You’re getting groomed!!

Sorry Puppy Bear,  but dangit you are so cute.