A Boy and His Dog

Mom of the Year

There have been several occasions in the course of parenting when I feel like I've earned the "Mom of the Year" Award. It's not an award that's hard to earn, you just have to lovingly neglect your children, do a lot of self diagnosing, and utilize maximum doses of Tylenol and ibuprofen.

For instance, when Alex was in 5th grade, she was spending a lot of time on the basketball court and she was playing a lot of softball. She also had lots of heel and foot pain. Everyone knows that heel and foot pain in that age child is Sever's disease. And the treatment for that is... ibuprofen. See? Self diagnosis and ibuprofen.

Except that several months later when I did decide to take her in to see the doctor I learned that she has a heel spur on each foot, which accounted for most of the pain, and the orthopedic makeup of her feet was quite askew. So askew, in fact, that they were affecting her ankles, knees, and hips. The physical therapist was concerned about even making orthotics that would correct it completely because she was afraid that would cause more pain, so she corrected them as much as she could comfortably and added a little extra cushion to the heels to help with the spurs. She has been wearing the orthotics faithfully for three years and...little to no more heel pain.

Another example? Last year Anthony decided to join the Cross Country team at his high school. They had practice every day after school where they would often run 4 miles a day. Soon after the school year started, he began having chest pain. Horrible chest pain. So bad he thought he had broken a rib and it was puncturing his lung. I took him to the doctor, they x-ray'd him, checked him out, and sent us home with probably a pulled muscle in his chest. So, what does a good momma do? A momma that's in the running for Mother of the Year? She gives him ibuprofen and sends him on running. He continues to run about four miles a day for another week and came home almost every day and went to bed. That running really wore him out! Eventually, the poor boy started running a fever and I finally felt like I may be out of my realm of expertise. I took him to Children's Hospital and found out he had pneumonia, which ended his cross country season before it started. Since when is ibuprofen not the preferred treatment for pneumonia?

Which leads me back to Alex... Last year (yes one year ago), Alex and a volleyball team mate collided. She had immediate pain and even had to sit out the remainder of the practice which she's never had to do. She even finished a batting session after breaking her thumb when she was 10 just cuz she didn't want anyone to see her cry. After a little ibuprofen the night of the collision, she was ready to play again the next day. The shoulder, though, remained a nagging source of pain throughout volleyball season and all through travel softball season. The pain was a constant companion through middle school softball season last fall but was bearable when we taped it down tightly. Next, came a little self diagnosing and thinking that a couple of months rest would definitely make it better. After two months of rest and no relief I finally decided to take her to the orthopedic doctor, who after a very thorough examination and questioning, determined she had a SLAP tear of her left shoulder. He ordered an MRI to confirm his diagnosis, which leads us to today...

Any activity you do with Alex ultimately turns into an interesting, entertaining event. Some of her quotes from today.

"This gown is very unstylable."

"I'll take that camera away from you if you take my picture."

"Do they have these gowns in kid sizes? This one's way too long."

"You didn't say anything about needles." (And I had kept that piece of information to myself.)

"I don't like this hospital. There are no elephants or kites on the walls. The walls aren't pink or green or yellow."

"The nurses don't have teddy bears on their uniforms. Or kitties. What's wrong with these people?" (She's used to going to Children's Hospital.)

"He told me it would feel like a bee sting. Why would he tell people that?"

"Why do I have to sit in this wheelchair?"

"The MRI wasn't too bad but I got bored after about ten minutes." (She has the attention span of our puppy.)

I wish I had written them down - there were many more Alexisms.

After the arthrogram the doctor came out and told me she didn't even flinch when he injected the contrast. He said the girls are a lot tougher than the football players that come in there.

We'll get the results from this test next Wednesday, and if his first impression is correct, she'll need surgery which we can schedule at our convenience. Our earliest convenience is probably going to be after this softball season, and after try outs for the high school team, and after she decides if she wants to play high school volleyball. I think I feel another award coming on.

Blast from the Past

(Picture from January of 1999)



This week, while cleaning out some cabinets, I ran across the journals I kept when the kids were younger. I thought it would be fun to remember/share these tidbits periodically. Unfortunately, I can't find all of them. I wrote in them sporadically at best, and if I had it to do over I would make myself sit down and write something every day - if only a sentence. I really, really wish I had.

This one is from January, 1999 (Ant almost 4, and Al almost 2).

"Alex has learned how to pull Anthony's chain. She takes things from him and runs to me crying like he's hurting her - and he usually gets in trouble. Now that we're figuring this out, hopefully he won't get bullied by his younger sister quite so much. We have spent so much time teaching him to be "easy with the baby" he just lets her take his toys and, if after a cursory attempt to get it back fails, he just moves on to something else. We have told him it's okay to NOT let her take his toys from him. And he's learning. Boy, is he learning."

So, at almost 4 years old is when we gave him permission to fight back - and they're still fighting.

8th Grade Recognition

Al's 8th grade recognition was last night at her middle school. She was so excited! She thought it was going to be so fun and she would get recognized, and all eyes would be on her, and probably a ray of sunshine would burst through the ceiling and just radiate around her. She was so disappointed! We were herded onto the gym floor with all the other 8th grade athletes and their names and activities were read through a very staticy, gym distorted sound system. Because it was in alphabetic order, we were the first ones. Al soon became bored and about halfway through the line of 8th graders, she said, "This isn't as fun as I thought it would be. Can I leave?" She wanted to leave halfway through it - just walk off the gym floor and leave her daddy and I standing there alone.

Since volleyball season doesn't start for a few more weeks we only have softball pictures so far. And volleyball pictures are sooooo hard to get. It's hard to get good pictures in a gym.

Alex had a rough start to the season this year. In a scrimmage game before the season started, she pulled her quadriceps muscle. She had to play one game with it pulled, limping on and off the mound, and not being able to run. We/she went to physical therapy the next day and before school every morning that week for electrostimulation and stretching/strengthening exercises. It took a few games to get back to normal but once it was better she was on a roll.

They ended up winning the end of the season tournament, playing the same very strong team three times and winning two of those three times.

What an honor it was for her to get to play with this team. They played the season like it's supposed to be played. They improved every time they went on the field with their best games being in the tournament. They won the final tournament game 2-1 and had to play every batter like it was the game winning batter. I have never been more proud of a group of girls who individually did their best, which made their team the best. They never took for granted that they were going to win any game. They knew to win they would have to play hard - they truly earned every win they got.

Alex got the game ball, which is on the shelf in her room. She has many trophies and medals from softball but that game ball means a lot to her - she knows it represents a lot of hard work and one of her better games on the mound.

What do you do after winning the championship?

The worm! On home plate.

A Berry Merry Christmas

This year at our Berry Christmas I took a few extra pictures of the cousins. For some reason we don't get too many pictures of them.

They had a great great uncle who died at the advanced age of 94, maybe 95? He died about 10 years ago but has left a picture taking legacy. He loved having his picture taken and posed every time, even in those old home movies he would stand as still and straight as he could. When these nuts have their picture made, they have to do the Clarence at least once.
I think they've captured him perfectly.

These two are twins six years apart. History repeating itself. As a matter of fact, when Chelsea was 2 or 3 years old, Tony actually said, "I'll never have a daughter that acts like that." Famous last words...their brains, I think, are interchangeable.

One thing that never changes, the kids can't wait to get through dinner so that they can open their presents.

They have them all sorted out, waiting not so patiently. I think I can make this argument for them. If we did let them open the presents first, then we could enjoy our dinner, we wouldn't choke on dessert, and could even have a cup of coffee. The sad thing is, at this age, they have picked out their gifts, they know what they'ree getting, but apparently they just need to rip the paper off the box.

We had a very fun Christmas this year. We celebrated our Christmas on the 23rd, then got together on the 24th and had game night.


Just us girls.

Our Crazy Animals

Starting with the one we've had the longest...

Sweetie, who when we got her at three years old was named Sable. Anthony and Alex could NOT remember that name and after a week of, "Mom, what's our dog's name again?" we decided to rename her. We thought we should pick something that had a similar sound with the same number of syllables so she could transition easier. We labored over a name for her and settled on Sweetie. Well, turns out we didn't have to labor over that decision at all. Labs are so needy you can call them something different every time and they will still come running with their tails wagging.

She's a very good only child. We figured this out after our black lab died. She was very bossy and self centered and wanted all the attention but with no one to compete with became a sweet, loving dog. Since she is afraid of water she very rarely gets baths (read as never). She is afraid of storms, rain, guns, sirens, high winds, and getting her picture taken to name a few. Therefore, this is as good a picture as I can get of her because she thinks she's in trouble when I point the camera at her. She always looks ashamed in pictures cuz she won't hold her ears up or smile. Our black lab was a smiler but not this one. This one's a needy one. She needs someone to be home with her or she needs to go to the neighbors to see if they're home. She wears herself out trying to say outside the window of the room we're in. She's a beauty but no one will ever know since she won't let us take her picture.

Then there's this precious little thing who finally has a name. Maggie. I really thought her name would be Annie, or Betsy, or something else historically related, or related to one of Anthony's other hobbies like reenacting or gun collecting. But she's Maggie. Mini Mags. Maggie Mae. Which, not too surprisingly, actually comes from a device that holds ammunition, a magazine.

She is a cute little thing who plays hard and sleeps hard. She's 8 weeks old and having to learn big lessons like Sweetie would prefer to remain an only child, Sweetie eats first, and Sweetie would rather not be bothered by immature, bratty puppies that she didn't ask for.

She is also having to learn that there is an equally ornery creature living in the house that luckily has no front claws. Kitty. Kitty loves to climb CHRISTmas trees and she doesn't like puppies. Kitty likes to watch the toilet water after you flush, she likes to drink water out of the bathroom faucet, she reaches for you to pick her up, she gives hugs, she talks back, she can open doors, sleeps on the dryer, and is always waiting at the door for us. This cat acts more like a dog than the dogs do.

Then, we have that crazy little fish. How long do they live anyway?

Forever = About 12 years

I have always, always said that I will never get another puppy. Tony and I got a puppy when we were first married and that was a disaster. D.I.S.A.S.T.E.R. Max was his name and he was a sweet puppy turned demon. I showered him with love and affection and he still liked Tony better. He tore my clothes, tormented our guests, and wouldn't let me come into the yard. We hung in there with him for a couple of years but instead of him getting better he got worse. Much worse. We finally gave him away which is when I swore them off. For. Ever.

For. Ever. apparently is a very relative term. To some people it means to never happen again. For me, it means approximately 12 years.

Anthony has been begging for a puppy of his own. One that can ride in the truck with him and be his sidekick and be "his" dog. He read a book about a german shepherd dog in the Vietnam war and ever since then he has wanted "his" dog to be a german shepherd. He asked for money for Christmas so that he could get a puppy, take care of the vet costs, and all the other costs that pop up as a pet owner. For months we have been looking on Craig's List, rescue web sites, visiting shelters, etc.

And now For. Ever. has come. About 12 years after swearing off puppies - we have a puppy. Well, Anthony has a puppy but who can resist 'em once you get 'em? She is a very sweet, needy, whiny, yippy, affectionate, and happy little girl. So...

Meet Annie (Oakley).

Or Maggie.

Or Betsy (Ross).

Or Jackie (from that 70's show).

How soon do they need a name before they are traumatized by not knowing who they really are?