Half-pint Has A Run-in With The Law...

We've run into a few behavior issues with Half-pint over the past few months...and it came to a head this afternoon. I was feeding Peewee-pint when Half-pint came in and started playing with the telephone next to me. I told him not to play with the phone and he quickly took off into the next room. When he emerged a few minutes later, he informed me that he had called 911 and then hung up. Great, I thought and went to find the phone and checked the redial. Sure enough...911. Quarter-pint had been patiently waiting for me to help him, and in the middle of making yet another bowl of oatmeal, the sheriff's office called back to make sure everything was alright.

The problems really started to escalate when Peewee-pint started to squeal in the background (he sounds like a stuck little pig screaming...it's awesome, especially when you're on the phone with the sheriff's office!). I tried to reassure the deputy on the other end of the line that we were all fine. As soon as I hung up Half-pint and I had a little talk about when it's okay to call 911 and when it's not...and why it's not a good number to prank call.

About 15 minutes later the doorbell rang and I was not the slightest bit surprised to see a uniformed sheriff's deputy standing on my front porch. He asked to come in and wanted to speak with Half-pint. When Half-pint saw the deputy-he freaked out-ran up to his room and locked himself in his bathroom, all the while screaming. I had to literally carry him downstairs so the deputy could have a little chat with Half-pint-just to make sue he understood when it's okay and not okay to call 911. Half-pint nearly had a complete meltdown and wouldn't acknowledge the deputy...who just needed to hear Half-pint say that he understood...and then he would leave. It took Half-pint a half-hour to finally say "I understand" loud enough for the Deputy and I to hear and vaguely understand.

As soon and the deputy left, Half-pint ran, as fast as he could up the stairs and into his room, for a self-appointed time-out; crying the whole way. I was disappointed it took a half-hour for Half-pint to acknowledge something he already knew (we had just talked about it); not only wasting my time, but more importantly the deputy's as well. Hopefully we will all learn a valuable lesson from our first (and probably not last) run-in with the law.

Peewee-pint Rolls Over...

...So, I still think it's a fluke, but it has happened twice in the past few days... When Peewee-pint is on his round little belly...if he can shift his weight just right...before he knows what's happening...he's on his back again... Genius or just rolly-polly?

Half-pint's Observations About Girls...

Yesterday in the car on the way to church, the boys were talking about girls. Quarter-pint really wants a sister (and has for some time); but Half-pint can't figure out why Quarter-pint has such a wish. This is what Half-pint told Quarter-pint about girls...

"Girls go into the bathroom, lock the door and brush their hair for a long time. What if I really have to go potty?!? That's why I don't want a sister."

Quarter-pint Loses His Tonsils (and a little more)...

Quarter-pint has been sick for months, literally he's had a cold on and off (more on than off) at least since school began in early August. Around the holidays he missed the equivalent to about 3 weeks of school (he only goes a few days a week), and about a month of church-simply because he was too sick to go, or his nose looked too nasty to send him. I finally got him in to see the ENT (ear, nose, throat) doctor just after the first of the year. They took one quick look at the back of his throat and said his tonsils needed to go. The reasoning was NOT that he's been sick, but more because one tonsil was TWICE the size of the other (rather strange), and because the poor kid just wasn't sleeping very well, snoring, breathing pauses in his sleep, always tired.

So, after scheduling and rescheduling the surgery, we finally had the traditional "Good-bye Tonsil" party, complete with cake (and a candle to blow out) and presents (always a new pair of pajamas to wear for the big event, and "quiet toys" or activities that can be played with quietly since physical activity is restricted for two weeks).

Quarter-pint had strongly informed me several times prior to his surgery that he did not want to have his tonsils out. Who can blame him really? Daddy, Quarter-pint, Peewee-pint and I all got up really early on the morning of the surgery and headed out the door. Quarter-pint was brave; poor kid had no idea what was coming since whenever I tried to talk to him about it he either covered his ears or shoved his little hand-palm open-into my face.

Quarter-pint elected me to go with him into the OR to "play the space ranger game" (he was wearing new Buzz Lightyear pjs). I went back when Half-pint had his tonsils out-I think it was more traumatic for me than for him, so needless to say I was a little apprehensive to watch a second son freak out on the operating table; but I put on a brave face and escorted him to the OR. Quarter-pint was amazing with the whole thing. I knew he didn't want to do it; but he was calm and brave and cooperative (very different than Half-pint). He did a great job with the anesthesia-the best the doctor had EVER seen (at least that's what he told me).

When the operation was finished, the surgeon came and told us everything went well--and that Quarter-pint's adenoids were

"GYNORMOUS; so big I'm surprised he could breathe at all-and they were completely covered with infection."

The two hours or so of recovery went great...he came out of the anesthesia beautifully and was drinking juice, and said his pain wasn't bad...

...Then we went home and everything went downhill from there. The poor kid didn't want to swallow ANYTHING and we struggled to simply keep him hydrated. He wanted to eat and drink, then he remembered how much it hurt and refused. His diet was restricted to soft foods and/or liquids (with a few further restrictions), but that really means all the ice cream, popsicles, pudding, applesauce, yogurt, mac'n cheese you want. He didn't want any of it! On the second day home, I was adding some peaches to my oatmeal and he wanted some...so I cut them up tiny for him and gave him a spoonful. We found them still in his mouth more than two hours later when we tried to give him pain medicine. The little stinker just held them in his mouth so he wouldn't have to swallow. Needless to say, his face and neck stunk like dried saliva...we couldn't get him in the tub enough!

Quarter-pint basically didn't eat for the first week after surgery. We had two trips to urgent care for IVs to keep him hydrated just in the first few days (of course it was over the weekend!). He looked pretty sick, with glossy eyes, basically just hanging out on the couch watching movies and sleeping. By the 4th day after surgery, the surgeon called to check on him and when he heard how awful the weekend had been he wanted to admit Quarter-pint to the hospital to ensure he had adequate liquids/pain meds to get him healed and fully recovered. Daddy was pretty apprehensive about this, so we tried increasing some of the medications first. Later that night, the doctor came by the house on his way home from work to check on Quarter-pint. Thankfully, he was in good enough shape to stay out of the hospital. And the increased doses of medicines worked...

...After a full week of not eating anything, and only drinking water (not to mention losing a few pounds) Quarter-pint was starting to make it up. He ate a half-gallon of ice cream in three days-by himself, and countless helpings of mac'n cheese. He's had an entire large package of hotdogs, several helpings of cereal with LOTS of milk and two dozen bowls of oatmeal. I'm getting really tired of making mac'n cheese and oatmeal! He's basically been eating non-stop for an entire week! He even tattled on himself yesterday when he came up from the basement and exclaimed

"I eat pretzels downstairs!"

"Did you forget you're not supposed to eat pretzels?"

"Nope!"

We go in tomorrow for the all clear, but I am happy to say he's feeling much better and the mischievous sparkle has returned to his eyes. It's going to be exciting to see how much more impish he becomes now that he can actually get his lungs full of air. I think our fun three year-old has returned (minus his tonsils, adenoids and a few pounds)!

Peewee-pint Gets Sick...

Early last week, Peewee-pint picked up a cold, complete with congestion and a cough. I didn't think anything of it because Quarter-pint has had a cold basically since August, and I've had a few over the past few months, including last week. Then, last weekend we took the boys to the mountains for a little skiing. Quarter-pint had his first day in ski school and Half-pint skied with Daddy. Peewee-pint and I enjoyed a quiet day alone, working on party favors for Half-pint's friend birthday party.

The first night in the mountains was awful, but it generally is at the higher altitude. Saturday Peewee-pint was still pretty fussy and by Saturday night he wasn't eating much. By Sunday morning, Daddy and I figured out Peewee-pint was not doing very well. He hadn't eaten much and hardly slept the entire weekend we were in the mountains. As we got ready to come home Sunday morning, we decided not to take him to church, and I called the pediatrician on call. The doctor's office called back as we were driving down the mountain and suggested we take him in to an urgent care, and there just happened to be a pediatric one not too far out of our way home and near Grandma T's house.

Daddy and I scrambled to make arrangements to cover our responsibilities at church, and headed for the pediatric urgent care. I fully assumed we would walk in, they would take a look and a listen and tell me he had an ear infection or some such ailment. Daddy and the big boys stayed in the car-thank goodness for in-car DVD players!

They did take a look and a listen, and to my surprise his ears were clear-BOTH of them. The looking was fine; it was the listening that brought a little cause for alarm. Quickly we were assigned to a room and soon a respiratory specialist popped in. They suctioned out Peewee-pint's nose a couple of times and started monitoring his oxygen levels. It was quickly obvious that he wasn't getting enough oxygen when he relaxed (ie eating or sleeping); so he was put on oxygen and monitored again-this time for 4-6 hours! I quickly called Daddy and sent him to Grandma's house with the boys...none of us had eaten lunch and it was obviously going to be much too long for them to wait in the car.

After hours and hours of monitoring, waiting, sleeping (for Peewee-pint, not me) and visits (thankfully with dinner for me, not Peewee-pint) from Aunt C 3 and C 5 we were discharged to go home...with an oxygen take in tow.

Three rechecks, and a week later, Peewee-pint was cleared-and we were able to ditch the oxygen tank, 50 foot tubing, and face stickies!!!

The diagnosis: Bronciolitis, caused by RSV.

Photos...

(Unfortunately, we didn't get any of Peewee-pint alone;

He was the only one having a melt down during the photo shoot, and we ran out of time.)