Jack's turning one tomorrow. Yes, it's already been a whole year. Crazy, I know!  Over the past year I've occasionally thought ahead to Jack's birthday wondering what I would be feeling.  I want to be able to celebrate and have fun like I do with any of the kids' birthdays, but his birth day was different.  So different. There were so many other emotions felt surrounding the day of August 9th, 2011 that I'm not sure I can separate the joy of giving birth to my child and the pain of what our family went through watching Ty fight for life. Even just typing those words makes my stomach drop and my heart pound.  I remember how I sat by his side that first night in the ER, me in my hospital gown, and him hooked up to countless tubes and monitors.  I remember how his hair felt as I stroked it over and over, how his 7 year-old hand felt so little in mine, and how I wanted nothing more than just to be able to stay with him. I remember the next day, after being discharged from one hospital (mine), walking into the ICU of another (his), and right away noticing Ty's eyes looking at me over the oxygen mask, so tired and confused. He cried when he saw me.  I hadn't been there for him. When he needed me more than ever before I wasn't there.  Of course, I realize it was completely out of my control and so I can't feel guilty. Reas was there every step of the way. It just makes my heart break to think about how scared they must have been. The hurt becomes too real when I think about it too much. I try not to.  I don't want Jack's birthday and these painful memories to be so intertwined that I can't just be happy celebrating Jack. Tomorrow morning I'll wake up to Jack's birthday.  Tomorrow morning will be one year after one of the best and worst days of my life.  I'm not sure what I'm feeling.
It's gratitude, love, sadness, and maybe even a little fear - all at the same time.  Whatever it is, my heart feels     heavy and full.

Yesterday I thought about the Duggars.  And the birthdays...and the wrapping paper...and the vast quantity of birthday cake that must be consumed by that family.  They might actually get tired of a good chocolate cake. How sad. Then I stopped feeling slightly birthdayed out and began enjoying our busy season - 4 birthdays between March 8 and May 1.  A little perspective always helps.

Yesterday we celebrated a freshly turned 3 year-old Lily, but since Ty's day slipped through the blogging cracks 5 weeks ago, it only seems right to start there.

Ty's eight now! He wanted a day on the baseball field with his buddies for his birthday. Hmm - imagine that.  It sounded perfect to me. Perfectly easy. An hour on the field (which was Reas' job) followed by presents and cake. He had a ball.

Then, of course a few weeks later, on Easter weekend, Ty had his baptism. Back in February of 2011, Ty comitted to finish reading The Book of Mormon before his baptism date. He did awesome. Very diligent.  Even when he was pooped out from a long day, he still read, sometimes as much as 5 chapters a day. He finished 2 weeks before his baptism. Way to go, kid! He really is a great boy.






We were so happy to have some family come in to town to support him.



That same weekend, we celebrated Reas' birthday.  But since he's pretty old now, we kept it low key, so as to not throw out his back or anything.  He said all he wanted was to watch the Dodger game together and eat nachos supreme on his birthday. I know. So romantically sweet.  Speaking of sweet- his cake sunk in the middle for some reason. So me, being the clever girl that I am, thought I'd double the frosting recipe which would fill in the cake canyon and no one would ever have to know that I'm not perfect. I made cooked frosting, which is basically fudge poured over your cake.  Doubled, that turned out to be more frosting than cake. That cake might just go down in history as the chocolate death cake. I'll just say, only a few of us were actually able to finish our piece - me being one of them.  Yeah, I know how to pack it in, baby. It's a great recipe. If you want to try it out, just know a single recipe is quite sufficient for a 9x13 pan.




And now on to Lily. I've said it before - 3 year-olds are the best!  Simplicity is appreciated, and they're excited about anything! By sheer coincidence, Reas' company alway gives a random day off in the spring. This year it was on Lily's birthday. It made her day extra special having him around when all the other kids were at school. We went to Denny's to get her free birthday breakfast. We're cool like that. While there, we discussed whether or not we'd have the guts to walk into Denny's with our 5 kids during the "kids eat free" hours.  Nope. We agreed we just couldn't do it.

After Denny's, we hopped on over to Dollar Tree where Lily picked out her own princess balloon because after all, that was one of the two things she asked for.  The other being chocolate cupcakes. See what I mean?  3 is all about the simple pleasures.







 Currently, Lily loves letters. Obsessed actually.  Conversations in the car, revolve 100% around which letters she sees on signs.  A perfect Lily gift would have to involve letters. Maggie and I settled on ABC bean bags using old jeans and fabric scraps.  They're a hit...with everyone!  She's was pretty excited about her money and gift cards from grandparents too. Here we come, Target.



One more birthday to go and then we've got a little break until Jack's birthday.  Isn't that ridiculously crazy? I'm almost crying thinking about his birthday coming up in a few months.

The plan was for Reas to come back to the hospital, have dinner with me, and spend the night in my room in the comfy hospital pull out bed. We had dinner and then around 7:00 my mom who was home with our kids, called because she was worried about Ty. He had been struggling with his asthma for a few days, needing breathing treatments more and more. By Tuesday though, the treatments didn't seem to be working effectively. By evening, he'd finish a treatment and he'd be struggling for breath just as much as before. His breathing tends to get worse at night, so considering his day had been so rough, my mom was worried about what kind of a night he might have.


After she called us, Reas called our home teacher, Bro. Coffey and our neighbor, Bro. Taylor to see if they would go give Ty a blessing so Reas could stay at the hospital with me. They did. But, by 8:00 Reas was on his way home because Ty was so upset and wanted him. Then around 11:30 PM Reas was back at the hospital in the ER with Ty. There just wasn't anything else left for them to do at home to help Ty's breathing improve. I had no idea Reas and Ty were there until Reas came walking into my recovery room at 1:00 AM. As exhausted as I was, I hadn't been to sleep yet. Between worrying about Ty, baby feedings, diaper changes, and nurses walking into my room for one thing or another sleep didn't have a chance.

As soon as Reas walked in, I knew what it was. Every part of his being told me what was wrong. He sat down next to me and we broke down together as he told me what was going on downstairs in the ER. He had just spent the last hour having to watch a room full of doctors and nurses frantically running around a hospital room trying to figure out the quickest and best way to stabilize Ty. No one told him anything at that point. They were just yelling out numbers, and running like crazy while Reas stood in the corner looking on. I can't imagine having to do that on my own. I know it was terrible for him. They quickly realized Ty would need to be fully sedated in order to get tubes down his throat that would send oxygen and albuterol directly into his lungs. A mask wouldn't have worked fast enough. Finally, when all the tubes, patches, IVs, and medication were in place someone stopped running in order to talk to Reas. They were going to give Ty some time to stabilize and for his oxygen level to improve and then they'd be transferring him to Sunrise Children's Hospital across town, where there is a Pediatric ICU. It was during this waiting time that Reas came up to my room.

I wanted to be with Ty. I knew that as soon as the transfer was made I wouldn't be able to see him until I was discharged sometime the next day, so Reas and I walked down to the ER. There was something so movie-like about the whole situation - me having just had a baby, still in my hospital gown, walking to the ER to visit my put-under child. A horrible movie, that makes you ask, what kind of dillusional person would think up this story? Reas had tried to prepare me for what Ty would look like. Nothing can prepare you for seeing your 7 year-old sedated in a hospital bed, shirt cut from his back, and struggling to breathe despite all the medical help he was receiving. I sat next to Ty, holding his hand, kissing his head, and trying to be strong. One of the nurses said he was responding to my presence, that his heart rate picked up when I'd talk to him. In a way that only made it harder for me when it came time to leave him because part of him knew I wouldn't be there.

Before too long the transport team arrived and I had to leave. I cried all the way back to my room. Knowing that Reas wouldn't leave Ty's side, except to follow the ambulence to the next hospital, was the only thing that got me through. I slept for about 45 minutes that night.

By morning, word about Ty had spread pretty quickly and the nurses and doctors who needed to approve mine and Jack's discharge were all working to get me out of there as fast as possible. It still wasn't quick enough for me. I was home by noon, which I guess considering how long things always seem to take in the hospital, was ok. I threw on some clean clothes, called around for a babysitter, kissed my girls, and headed out with my mom. Leaving my 1 day old baby with a sitter to go see another child in the hospital wasn't exactly the way I had envisioned spending my first day home. My good friend Anna who has been a blessing in my life from the day I met her came over to spend the afternoon with the baby and my girls. Anna has six young kids of her own, and I swear she's Super Woman in disguise. She brought crafts and glittery nail polish and I don't think my kids missed me a bit!

By the time my mom and I arrived at the hospital, Ty had been awake for a few hours. I was so happy to see him looking more like himself, although he was still very weak. I'm pretty sure Reas was super happy to see us too. This was the first time he had someone to talk to other than hospital staff and he was running on pure adrenaline just as much as I was. The IVs would stay in for another day and the albuterol was being given through a mask now. Ty cried when he saw me. That made me happy and sad at the same time. Again, I sat by his bed, talking to him. He'd try to talk a little, but his throat was so raw from having the tubes down it and not being able to drink that I could barely understand or hear him. Eventually, they allowed him to have ice chips and then finally water and he downed cup after cup like he had just crossed the Sahara. My time was again limited with Ty because now I had a nursing baby at home. For the next day and a half I went back and forth between Ty at the hospital and nursing Jack at home. Reas only left the hospital once - on Thursday morning to come home for a couple hours to shower and say hi to the girls. My mom stayed with Ty during that time. This was the first time since Jack was born that we had everyone home together without Ty. It was the strangest feeling, trying to be happy about having our new baby, but not having Ty around to celebrate with. It was hard, to say the least. I would want to take pictures of all the kids together, but then couldn't bring myself to do it. Other times I'd think I was going along, doing ok and then I'd see Ty's shoes in the corner and start crying again.

Thursday evening the doctors told Reas that when Ty could come home would be determined by how his night went. They wanted him to go a whole night where his oxygen levels stayed up on his own and he didn't need any breathing treatments. Thursday night he had a great night! We all prepared for them to come home. Friday afternoon I again made the drive to the hospital, but this time I'd be bringing Reas and Ty home with me.

Every doctor we spoke to would comment on how amazingly fast Ty's recovery went considering where things had been on that first night in the ER. I didn't know much about oxygen and carbon dioxide levels before last week. I've since learned that any carbon dioxide level above 40 is dangerous. Ty's got up to 130. His pediatrician told me that at that level the brain is telling the lungs to shut down completely. Another doctor went as far as saying that had Ty not received the treatment he got when he got it, there wouldn't have been anything left to do. I'm not saying this to be overly dramatic. Someday, when Ty reads this I want him to know how blessed he was that night. I want him to remember that he had a priesthood blessing where our inspired home teacher specifically blessed him that his body would respond to the medication and that his body would be able to rest and relax. And I hope he knows how much his family loves him, and that his dad never left his side. I am so grateful to Reas for being strong and for caring for Ty and being there to comfort him when I couldn't. We are grateful for prayer, for our extended family, friends, and for our children. We are so grateful that my mom was here for all of this, to support and comfort and help with anything we needed her to do. We are grateful for modern medicine and doctors that knew the best way to treat him in an emergency situation.

When I look back on the day Jack was born and the following few days, I can't help but see how we were being watched over. And how things happened exactly as they should in order for us to bring our two boys home. We still have a way to go with Ty. Now he'll be seeing a pulmonologist and an allergist to try and decide what will be the best way to control his asthma. In the meantime, I just look at my family and smile, so happy that we have eachother.

I had an Easter rabbit that I loved a lot that used to look like this:

Now I have an Easter squirrel that I'm trying to love that looks like this:







I just recently learned that the only difference between a rabbit and a squirrel is in the tail and ears. Other than those they're really pretty much the same animal. See what I mean?

It sort of mutated from a rabbit into a squirrel with the help of a little boy who I love (more than the rabbit) and his baseball. He looks like this:







I almost got mad when it crashed to the floor only weeks after I bought it (from a REAL store, even) but I just kept hearing Marjorie Pay Hinckley's sweet voice echoing, "Save the relationship!"

I didn't get mad. A ceramic rabbit decoration isn't really worth it. My rabbit's a squirrel now and I can be ok with that. My cute boy is still happy and he learned. Hopefully, he'll be more careful.

Oh, how I'm grateful for those little moments when I'm blessed with added patience, added love, and a little more understanding than what seems normal - those times where I could easily mess up, but don't. I'm so grateful for those successful mothering moments where I am able to experience how it feels to do it right.

Those are the times that make me want to always do it right.

Dear Tooth Fairy, From, Ty

Somewhere between now and the first day of 1st grade, I've lost Ty.  He is (or was) SO darn sweet I just could hardly resist him.  And now, he's come up with this too cool for you, sarcastic swagger that is freaking me out.  If you know Ty I know you'll never believe a word of this without seeing it firsthand.  Really, he leaves me speechless on occassion.  Fortunately, it hasn't been too often...maybe a couple times a day only lasting like a minute.  It is SO weird.  It's like his sweetness and innocence is temporarily wiped out by some beastly, sarcastic, cocky-headed wild 6 year-old.  Then, before you know it, he's fine again.  

Just today while consumed by this....um, thing, he demanded, "Give me another cookie, or you're fired!"
I know it sounds innocent enough.  You think he's just playing, but that's because you can't hear his voice.  It's scary.

This morning I was lovingly packing the kids' lunches.  He saw me, and in this snotty voice said, "Are you making that sandwich for ME? Why don't you even ask me what I want for lunch?  You KNOW I'm just going to throw it away, right?"   Are you kidding me?!  Does he really thinks he's going to talk to me that way and get away with it?  It's not like him - at all.  I don't know if he's found some angry child at school to pal around with who's rubbing off on him, or what.  Is he testing his limits?  Is he testing me, and how I'll respond?  Because things are getting uglier by the second and he's not going to like it.

Boys aren't supposed to be confusing, I thought.  He's SIX, for crying out loud!

With all the love of a tender-hearted and concerned mother, I am saying this:  Sometimes Ty's a punk.

There. Somehow I feel better.

I'm pretty sure Vegas schools are the last on the planet to start school.  It seems everyone else has been back for at least a week or two, and my school-loving offspring have been jealous.  I can't figure it out - in so many ways Maggie and Ty are both pretty shy and hesitant about doing new things.  But when it comes to starting a new school year, they're both out the door and running without looking back.  I'm not complaining, just confused.  Although, I'll admit it might be a little nice if one of them clung to my hand for just a second before sprinting away.  Really, was home THAT boring over the Summer??

Either way, I'm so happy for them and glad they're excited about another year.

              
We have about 5 colors to choose from to wear at this school, but they both thought it would be so cool if they were matching for the first day.  Can I say how happy it makes me that in 4th grade Maggie still thinks it's cool to dress like her 1st grade brother??





                            

Ok, so here's what this post is all about.  Ty's birthday was 1...2.....3.....4 months ago and I just now realized this post was still an unpublished draft.  I totally forgot about it.  Don't even remember writing it, but as I was reading it I was seriously cracking up and crying at the same time about how horrible of a mom I was for Ty's birthday.  So I'm just gonna go ahead and put it out there, mostly so all of you can feel better about yourselves.

Yesterday Ty put his whole heart into his debut baseball game. On the ride over to the ball field, he kept telling me, "I'm gonna slam it, mom!" Of course, me being the emotional and protective mom that I am did NOT want him to be disappointed when or if he never hit the ball. So I gave him the whole justtryyourbestandhavefunbutsometimeswestrikeoutandthat'sok talk.

He listened to my pep talk and humored me, and then said, "I'm gonna whack it!" I sure hoped so.

I don't know what was more fun - seeing how excited Ty was about the big game or watching Reas sprint from the parking lot all the way to the field in order to get there in time for the first pitch of the season. He's the epitome of a proud dad. I think we've got a long baseball career ahead of us. And I'm now officially a baseball mom...good thing I've got a minivan.

I'm happy to report that Ty slammed it indeed. He went 3 for 3 at the plate, scored 3 times, and had an RBI. I know it's only a matter of time before we're all humbled, but for now our kid's batting 1000!

Way to go #7!

Ty had a couple of buddies over for lunch Monday afternoon. They were having a nice little chat over PB and J's and applesauce, when all of the sudden I heard Parker say, "Blayde has a girlfriend!" Oh no. Pleeeeeease no! Not yet! They're only babies. All this was running through my head as I'm trying to hold back panic and tears. Pretty much since the second my children take their first breath, I start dreading the day that they will come to realize there are boys and there are girls. And that there is something called love, other than the way that brothers love sisters and we all love babies. So, I took a breath and decided I needed to get in on this conversation. "Sooooo Blayde.....what's your girlfriend's name?" I tried to sound more friendly than mom-ish. He looked at me with the best grin ever and proudly announced, "My girlfriend is MY MOM because I love her!!!!!"

Halleluja!!!!! I could have ran and given him the biggest kiss on the cheek and told him what a good boy he is and that I am so glad he is Ty's friend. But I didn't.

Ty, Parker, and Blayde in all their messy-faced glory

But I really, really wanted to.

"Today I told everyone at my table that I'm probably the smartest kid in the class, but don't worry....I didn't talk mean, I was just telling them."





Oh good. At least I have a nice and polite know-it-all.

Last year when Ty had a little birthday party, his friends went home with a candy bar tied up with a ribbon that said something along the lines of "thanks for helping Ty celebrate!" Today in Kindergarten, there was a birthday "celebration." I wasn't actually there, so I can only imagine what kind of festivities went on in the classroom. Ty informed me that they had corndogs, juice and cupcakes. Corndogs?! We have to provide lunch for the whole class now? Then as each child walked out the door, they were given their own jumbo helium balloon. At this point I was already kinda thinking wow. This is quite the class birthday. Then as we're walking out to the van, Ty says, "My backpack is sooooo heavy from all the party stuff." There's more?! I couldn't believe it. When we arrived home, out of his backpack came

a light up yo yo
a giant light up bouncy ball on a string complete with a wrist strap
4 cutsie erasers
a hacky sack

and because that wasn't enough there was a super cool dart gun (with 4 darts included) tied to the outside of the goody bag. This was like high quality merchandise.

Who knows what the girls went home with. Probably a gift certificate to the spa.

Let me back up a bit. Last week, Ty received an invitation to this same girl's party, so this school party was just the beginning! I told him he wouldn't be able to go because I have no clue who the girl's family is and the party is scheduled to last until 9 PM. Ummm. We're talking five year-olds. Am I the only one who thinks is all just a bit over the top? Unfortunately it looks like Ty may be missing out on the experience of a lifetime by not attending the party. Maybe the whole Dodger line-up will be there. Or maybe they'll be raffling off new big screens. Maybe backyard pony rides, bumper cars, and ferris wheels will be there. A carnival perhaps? Seriously. What happened to pin the tail on the donkey?

We just may decide to cancel birthday parties around here. The other kids' moms are damaging my self-esteem.

Ty: Mom, I have 53 cents! One quarter, 2 dimes, 1 nickel, and 3 pennies.
Me: Oh yeah? Can you count it out loud for me?

Then Ty proceeds to count his change in this crazy order: The nickel, one penny, the quarter, a dime, another penny, another dime, and the last penny.

Me: Good! You want me to show you a MUCH easier way to count your change? (I thought I was about to enlighten him)

Ty: Oh, I know. Start with the biggest amount first and then count the smaller coins. But Mom... I'm trying to challenge myself.

What?! Seriously, I don't know where this kid came from. You know me...always trying to find the easy way out. No challenge neccessary.

One of Vegas' finest natural wonders must be the summer thunderstorms that start rolling through this time of year. We love them! First the clouds come, then the wind starts howling like mad, and finally the rain. Usually they're those giant drops that sting when they hit your face. Ahhhhhh. The temperature drops at least 10-15 degrees, making it a comfortable 95 (sense the sarcasm). With the wet and the wind, even 95 doesn't feel too bad. We're currently in a run of afternoon storms and it has been heavenly. Of course, the kids can't get enough.

While other "normal" children run for rainboots and umbrellas, mine say, "Get the goggles and towels!" Oh boy. Las Vegas blood through and through. We wouldn't want water to get in our eyes now, would we?

It made for some great super hero adventures in the rain.

And then there was Claire. She loves "weather" about as much as fireworks. This isn't anything new as you can see here. One of these days...

she'll realize life is kinda fun after all.

I'll be the first to admit that rules are neccessary, especially in a house full of littles. BUT desperate times call for desperate measures and...we're desperate. Summer is in full swing here in lovely, luscious Las Vegas which means it's hotter than hot and outdoor play time has suddenly become not so pleasant . Cooped up kids leads to restlessness which leads to trouble. So when I heard a little ruckus coming from the other room I went in there to investigate.

Maggie at the pitcher's mound:


Ty up to bat:


Ty squeezing through 2nd base:


"A Book of Love Poetry" as 3rd base:
Ty reassured me -
"Don't worry, Mom. We're just stepping next to the book."


And all this was taking place in about a 10'X12' area marked out by my living room rug. The kids call it "baby baseball." Actually I couldn't stop laughing watching them running in teeny tiny baby steps around the "bases."


Whoever said "no balls in the house" surely never spent a summer in Vegas with kids.

So, since I'm head umpire around here... all I have to say is : "PLAY BALL!...and please bring me a nice steam cleaner for my creamy white rug turned baseball diamond."