Sigh

Four of five are gone away
I find I've nothing more to say.

Baby love

The little guy has fallen asleep nursing. One hand up, open, fingers splayed on my chest, the other down, fingers curled next to his cheek. His eyelashes fan on his butterball cheeks, thick and dark and so long. Just like his daddy.

This babe is so round. Laid on his tum, naked, he has a fat little bum. Not that you'd notice it otherwise, but naked it's impressive, as are the rolls on his thighs. I was noticing today that he might need to move from size 3 to 4 in diapers. He's not yet 5 months old and over 18 pounds. Oy, my back.

He's sucking his tongue in his sleep. His ears look like they need nibbling. Fat and pink and soft like warm August peaches. Yum. He smells nice, like things fresh from heaven should smell. Did you know that they arrive on the planet like that? It's true. I'd always thought their breath smelled sweet because of the milk, but mine have all had that "milk breath" when they were born.

My hands down favorite time is nursing. Not that the cooing, burbling, and laughing isn't just precious. It is; I well up thinking about his smiles and sounds. They make my heart sing. It's just that the business of filling the little belly is, well, primal, I suppose. And when he's so hungry to start with, convinced that no one would ever feed him again, when he's had a looong draught, is finally full and comes up for air, wobbly and milk-drunk... It completes a circle. I don't know how else to refer to it.

He's out. Head back and mouth open, smiling and zonked.

Shhhhh. I'll be back.

Stories to tell

Sometime I should tell you about the tree that fell on the house. February 17, this year. We're "in line" for repairs now. Also, you would like to hear about homeschooling, wouldn't you? I knew it! Then there's the reason I named this blog "Dura Mater" and all the irony it now holds. How about the time my two oldest aerosolized peanut butter and I was certain that I was raising up sociopaths? What happens when you hit a deer and then a pickup full of crazy cussing people, pulling a full horse trailer hits you? I know. I should share that sometime.

Let's see, what else? How about getting rear-ended by a sweet young thing named Madonna? Her husband was Sean. No kidding.

The latest installment in our no rest for the weary play is that the pipe running from the water main to the house is leaking. Apparently, quite significantly. It's weird, isn't it? It seems like there should perhaps be, oh, a break in the insanity?

Speaking of which, I finally contacted the neurologist's office yesterday. Turns out the transcriptionist had gone on a two week vacation and nothing from the date of our office visit will be transcribed until maybe next week. Argh!! How am I supposed to get the ball rolling on this vision therapy thing? Are we new here on this planet? I need this paperwork to beat the insurance people into accepting a recommendation for referral.

Q's usual therapist was out sick today, so a different nice lady saw him. She worked much more quickly with him, I think pushing him a little further than he was comfortable with (not a bad thing, in itself). He was tired out by the time we were half an hour into the 50 minute appointment. I sat down to nurse the squawky little man and the OT came in for her consult. We talked about his over-pronating with closed fists, his pinky that "cliffs," his double jointed thumb that is tight in a whole different way, and how to work the whole hand so it doesn't compromise the integrity of his finger joints or the curve of his palm. She used the big words. I like her. Not just for that, she's compassionate and knows her stuff and was funny too, but it's so much easier for me if the "technical" terms are used--they are consistent, unlike most explanations offered a parent by certain professional people. Now that I think about it, the CTU folks are probably far likelier to use the big words because they are engaged in handling chronic conditions with long-term therapy in order to acheive the best outcome for their patients. They are almost certainly painfully aware that most parents come into this stuff without much previous knowledge, but volunteer to put themselves on a very sharp learning curve.

Anyway, the OT will get the pre-authorization stuff rolling and then Q will have molds done and will get these soft little cork and neoprene numbers for using while he pushes up from his tum, and two pair of neoprene mitts for daytime wear. They are soft enough to not keep him from sucking his thumb (which is therapy in itself), but firm enough to continually suggest to his thumbs that they would be far happier out away from his fingers.

The reason this is such a big deal now is that if left to develop on it's own, excess tone will start to freeze up the fascia and then the muscle and tendons become tighter and tighter until perhaps one is dealing with something like contractures. We will not be doing that, thank you very much. Hence, all the great stuff from the OT has me jumping up and down. I like to have something to do. Also, it occurred to me today that I know a hand OT who I'm pretty sure would be happy to lend me a little perspective and advice. Can you believe it? Here Q is doing hand issues first, before any others that need addressing, and I know a hand OT! Miracles, miracles everywhere and I didn't even have to argue with Miracle Max or swallow an enormous chocolate coated pill or come back from the dead! (If you haven't seen The Princess Bride, you should.) Ahhh.

It's all good. Or it will be. :o)

I hope you have a peaceful weekend and that all the water at your house is right where it should be, on an individual basis, of course. Think of us, will you?

Thanks. Rest well.

Guess what?

It's raining.

It will stop intermittently through the beginning of July in order to allow us to revel in the emerald green-ness of the landscape and marvel that the surroundings are so spectacular. We will see the awesome mountains often enough to remember they are there and plan hikes accordingly. The third of July will be lovely. The fourth of July will be overcast, with light sprinkles. The fifth of July will be lovely. And summer will last through mid-October.

Welcome to the Northwest.

I heard today that Alexandrium dinoflagellates have been found at levels 1000 times what they ought to be not far from here. Red tide's rising. Guess who researched and wrote up a project of Alexandrium in his senior marine biology summer? It was an interesting paper.

Sigh.

At least the wet pattering on the roof and dripping of the eaves makes for a nice June lullaby.

G'nite.

Whine, moan

Brace yourself. I'm going to whine a little. Last night, I dreamt I was hemorhagging and no one would take me seriously. They all just kept needing stuff from me while I was bleeding out. Sound like, ummmmm, motherhood? The dream has been with me today, she said darkly.

On with it then.

I am disgusted with nursing bras. Anyone who's used one knows that they lack shape, support, appeal, and heck, any remotely user friendly features. Some are better than others, true. But that's like saying that some flu bouts are worse than others: you've yet to encounter one you'd care to repeat.

I am tired of having to chase my tail over medical details. I will be on the phone tomorrow with the neurologist's office, trying to figure out why the chart notes still aren't here. Aaaaaaa!

There's enough crap floating about the world. Crazy people need to get themselves some help so they can give up contributing to it. If this is you, stop being defensive about it. Stephen Hawking needs a wheelchair and loads of specialized hard and software help every single day just to keep breathing, much less communicate. That's the help he needs. Figure out what you need and stop torturing the rest of the planet over it. Chances are the ones suffering the most because of your issues (and we all have some, yes, even you) are the ones who love you the most and would do anything to help you figure your stuff out. I mean it: anything. All you need to do is know that and breathe out a request for help. The universe and it's Creator stand waiting to deliver what you need in the most unlikely ways. Ask and it will be given unto you. Seek and you will find. Knock and doors you didn't even know how to look for will open. So ask. Seek. Knock. Live in hope, baby. Make some progress with yourself. Life is too short to do otherwise.

Well, shoot. Here I set myself up for a full head of steam late night rant and I find that I'm really lacking in material. Ha! Who knew?

Oh wait. I need it to stop raining long enough for me to mow the lawn--the bunnies can't keep up with it anymore. There.

I suppose I could always moan about people who are purposefully stupid. They get on my very last nerve. You know, the folks who bury their heads so that they don't have to acknowledge that there's anything going on so they can avoid personal accountability? Politics, etc. come to mind. Nah. This election cycle just isn't getting my back up. Hmmm.

Perhaps I could switch from a good complain to a list of blessings? Alrighty then, here goes. We'll start with the kids, because........ because I'm the mom, that's why.

Q is the cutest little guy ever and his laughs and progress keep me sane. (I'm not exaggerating.) If I feel that the world is about to devour me whole, it takes only a baby smile or coo of recognition and I am rescued.

S wants so badly to read and helping her do "M. muhmuhmuhmuhmuh--mmmmoon" a million times a day is so poignantly sweet it makes my stomach do flip-flops.

K is really reading well, though this is the age where she will insist that she can't read despite masses of evidence to the contrary. Goofy girl.

E has a humble spirit. Wow. This kid asks for forgiveness because she wants to preserve the integrity of a relationship. It is humbling to me to witness this and be on the receiving end of it.

G shopped this evening for a birthday present for a certain young lady in his class because she's nice and he appreciates that. None of us has any idea when her birthday actually is.

My parents. I do not know how they do it, having us here, working full time, and not losing their minds. Let's face it, the kids and I have some baggage right now, and the children seem to be at the height of their entropy careers. This is a safe place to be (as long as mommy doesn't snap under the rest of the details) and I am so profoundly grateful to have it.

Flowers rock. The rhododendrons in the woods are discreetly popping out red blooms. Something I always referred to as "candy flower" while growing up is out en force. It's pink, and precious to a person lower to the ground than us grown-ups. (It's probably a weed.) Some of the foxgloves look like they're going to be really tall this year, well over six feet. The plant that looks like miniature snapdragons is happier than we had thought it would be after having tree limbs dragged over it for hours over a couple of days. I wonder if it will be purple or pink in that bed? Hmm.

The cottonwood fluff, which should be making me crazy with allergies, is lying about in drifts. Depending on one's mood, it looks either like a late snow or like the lawns have begun to mold. Funny that it can get around so well in this weather, isn't it? It seems that it dries quickly and is wily. It is on a mission, after all. (To take over the planet, of course. You weren't aware of that?) I'm happy about not having major reactions to the stuff floating in the air this year. Perhaps God has given me a break this season? I like that idea.

I'm up early again in the morning. So I'd better head for bed. No, really. You should be too.

Sleep well.

A good day

What a fantastic day we had yesterday.

Q is coughing, back on the nebulizer again, sighs all around. But the rest of the day was grand. We managed an impromptu potluck after church, then to escape all but the smallest of sprinkles while four adults entertained eight children at two seperate outdoor locations, all with good humor. The settings and sights were awesome, the children well behaved, the company spectacular. Wonderful.

Only one thing missing.

Rain, rain

This morning as I was returning home from delivering the oldest two to school, the vehicle in front of me slowed precipitously. Luckily, there was nearly a quarter mile between us. There were three young deer crossing the road in the mist, into a horse pasture full of Scotch broom in full, brilliant regalia. All the cars paused to look and breathe in the moment. Sweet.

It's been raining. Forever. The sun comes out long enough to make the roof steam, get our hopes up, and deliver someone, somewhere a really great rainbow. It's out long enough for me to think that the beach umbrella resting on the front lawn must surely be ready to finish drying in the garage. Invariably, it is as I am placing my feet into my shoes that the sky opens up and a lake falls down in increments.

So my question is, if April showers bring May flowers, what do May showers bring?

Still no chart notes from the neurologist, dagnabit. Q made my day by getting his thumbs, alternating them, into his mouth and really enjoying them for a couple of hours this evening. I knew he would be a thumb sucker! He's rejected the pacifier completely since Gramma tried to give him--gasp--a bottle of breastmilk last night while I was at the kids' school program. He cried and wailed and mourned like a professional. At bedtime, he still wasn't speaking to poor Gramma. It's hard to forgive a person for pulling something like that. Trying to feed with a bottle. The nerve.

Q's therapist said that she's seeing real progress from week to week. It's nice to hear, since I'm just slogging here and haven't the most objective vantage point. He seems today to have sort of woken up, again. Which is to say, the neurons are firing and he's achieving things, developmentally speaking. His tone is more relaxed, but he's sitting up straighter, longer. His head control is good, even when he's turning. He even seems to be reaching for things. It's hard to tell, though, because of the visual issues. Perhaps his development curve is just flatter and longer. Let's go with that.

The rain has let up. I'm thinking I won't bother going after the beach umbrella in the dark. If I do, the rain that will inevitably be loosed over the house will wake everyone as it hits the skylights, our amplifiers. And I want to sleep while it's still quiet.

I hope your holiday weekend is long and blessed. May you have a little bliss, in some manifestation, and some snuggles with someone for whom you are everything.

Peace.