Flu Shot...or Not?

Every year it's the great debate at my house.  To get a flu shot....or not to get a flu shot....that is the question.  It's mostly a debate in my own head.  I know what most doctors tell me, and then I read articles about potential dangers, and then I never know what to do. 


Really...anything is like that.  Research any topic and within an hour one could make a strong debate for two opposite points of view.  I love Google, and I hate it.  Someone told me the other day that Google is Satan's 2nd cousin.  At times, I could not agree more.


We usually get the flu shot.  It is always a horrible experience because my youngest can get the flu mist and my oldest has to have the shot.  Something about that just doesn't sit well with the child.


This year time got away from us.  I know time is not a reason not to get shots.  It's like someone saying they don't have time to get insulin for their diabetic child.  It's dumb.


But something else was holding me back this year, too.  I don't really know what, just a feeling that I was not supposed to.  It's highly possible that I was just trying to find a reason for not making time.


This past week, however, has made me wonder. I was home three days with the little guy.  He sounded like a barking seal.  It ended up being bronchitis and not influenza, which made me feel better.  The long nights and the midnight trip to the ER for an out of control screaming child with an ear infection, however, made me feel.........well, tired. 


Twenty-four hours later my oldest started crashing.  A little fever.  A little coughing.  Then - WHAM - 104 fever and a lot of miserableness.  (Is that a word?) 

He's not feeling so hot.  He looks suspiciously like flu.  The kind I may have avoided with that little shot.

In fact, this morning I went into his room to check on him, and he moaned and rolled over.  He said, "Mom, is this why you usually take us to get flu shots?"

I told him, yes, this is why.

He sadly looked at me and said, "I think they are definitely worth it."

I was completely speechless, and instantly knew how awful he must really feel.

I don't know that this has ended the great flu shot debate for me.  It's too late this  year, but I'm sure I will feel in just as much of a quandary next year as I always do.  However, at the moment, I am regretting my current lack of flu protection.

I am a sitting duck just waiting for the inevitable. 

Yuck.

Love

It's Valentine's week.  I love this week.  Next to Christmas, it has become one of my favorite times of the year. 

I love that we take a little extra time to think about the special people in our lives.  I love that people put aside petty differences and focus on the positive - even if it is only for one day.

More than that, I love this week because I take extra time to remember the events surrounding my son's birth and adoption, which occurred during Valentine's week.

The big events, such as the flight half-way across the country, his birth, and finally coming home, are etched forever in my mind.  But the "little things" sometimes take a bit more work. 

And the little things are what made the experience so amazing.  Little things like....

...the fact that mapquest told us our destination was 59 miles from the airport.  We naively assumed this meant about 59 minutes of driving.  We obviously weren't in Kansas anymore.

...the rental company that completely messed up our reservation for a mini-van.  Although it was only the 2 of us at first, soon to be 3, our mothers and son were coming to join us in 5 short days.  We ended up with the oldest, ugliest van that rental companies are allowed to own. 

...being pulled over for not having our lights on.  We were so used to automatic headlights that we hadn't turned them on.  The very loving officer said, "don't they teach you how to use headlights in Kansas?"  Very professional.

...trying to figure out what we were going to say when we met our son's birthmother for the first time in person.  Would she take one look at us and think she made a mistake?  What does one say in this awkward moment? What if she changed her mind?

...going to check in at the hospital and being told that they were completely full.  Forty-eight hours earlier they had assured us that we would have a room so we could stay with our baby.  "The only way we wouldn't have a room is if we were full, but that almost never happens..." 

...coming back to the hospital after we ate and finding her room empty.  When we asked where she had been moved to, we were told they didn't have anyone there by that name.  After a moment of immense panic, we realized that they were doing their job of protecting her identity and privacy.  An angel of a nurse recognized us and gave us clearance to go see her.

....waiting in the hospital front lobby for 9 agonizing hours.  It's just as difficult, if not more, than childbirth.

...being convinced that our baby was going to be born with a cleft palate.  I had a dream about it the night before, and then I read an adoption story about it during those 9 hours of waiting. I was sure God was preparing me.  We would have loved him just as much, but I was very relieved when his birth-grandfather came out and said, "he is perfect.  Ten perfect fingers and ten perfect toes.  Perfect everywhere."

Perfect. 

Perfectly stressful.  Perfectly wonderful.  All at the same time. 

Exactly six years ago tonight we were sitting in a hospital room with our newborn son, his birthmother, and her parents, eating pizza like it was the most normal and natural arrangement in the world. 

The next morning we would be dismissed and go our separate ways. 

I still don't know how she did it.  The selfless love was indescribable.

Sacrificial, perfect, unselfish love.

Cake Wreck

Every now and then when I need a good laugh, I will head on over to Cake Wrecks. There is always something hilarious going on over there.  Everyone needs a good "What were they thinking??" moment in their lives.

We had one of those here today. 

Today was my little guy's 6th birthday.  He stayed home from school sick for the 3rd day in a row.

All of our plans for the day had to be changed, but I didn't want his birthday to be a total bummer, so we focused on the one thing I still had some control over. 

Food.

I stocked up on ingredients for everything he would pick as his favorites....pizza, cheeseburgers, and, of course, birthday cake.

I made his cake first thing this morning and started frosting it after breakfast.  He walked into the kitchen and asked if that was birthday cake.  I said yes, and things went downhill from there. 

This is the exact paragraph that flew out of his mouth:  "Oh good, I want a Super Mario Brothers cake.  I don't want it tall and 3D like my brother's cake was, I want it to be a flat scene.  Can you make the sky blue?  I want Mario to jump off a pipe over here and...."

I knew at that moment that I was in trouble. 

I had neglected to think about the fact that we are very close to two very talented cake decorators.  One is this little guy's aunt, and the other is his "sister" who lived with us for several months.  My children have somehow never had "just a cake". 

Uh oh....

I quickly explained that not just anybody can decorate cakes.  A few people are really good at it, but I am not one of those people.  I even told him that he could probably talk his aunt into a Super Mario Bros. cake for his party in a couple of weeks.

He looked at me like I had horns growing out of my head.

I tried to explain that I don't have the skill or the equipment to decorate cakes like these other talented ladies can.  He didn't understand that if I tried to do it, the cake would look something like this:

 When what he is used to is this....

and this.

And then I had an ingenious mom moment. 

"Honey, how would you like to decorate your own cake?  I could make almost any color of frosting you want.  And I have sprinkles!"

Thankfully, it worked.  This kid loves all things creative, so he thought this was a great idea. 

Voila!

He was very intentional and elaborate about this.

He had a definite plan.

Not getting it?  Think science....

Come on....

It's Earth.

And he was stinkin' proud of it.

But something tells me he is still going to beg for that Mario cake.

Sitting Is So Overrated

It's official.  My child cannot sit still.

Who am I kidding?  He can't even SIT.  "Still" is a just pipe dream.

This is not a completely new revelation.  I noticed several years ago that my little guy has a little extra bounce in his step. 

My first child was not overly cuddly, but he was relaxed.  Still. Calm.  Funny how I didn't notice this at the time.

My youngest child is my cuddler.  I love this.  When he hugs he wraps his whole body around you and snuggles in.  It is wonderful. He will climb up onto a lap and read book after book just to be close to someone.

But there is always movement.  Little legs kicking, Arms flying.  Body wiggling. 

His kindergarten teacher loooovvvveeesssssss this.

I have tried.  I have literally tried to hold parts of his body still.  If I put my hand on one of his legs, some other area starts moving.  It's almost humorous.  Almost. 

Yesterday I had moved all the barstools away from the island so I could sweep and mop the floor.  When meal time came, there were still no chairs (and the floor is still not yet mopped, but that is not the point). 

I told the boys they could grab a chair.  "Could" was apparently the wrong word.  It implied a choice.  One which my little guy noticed very quickly. 

He did not want a chair.  He prefers meal time to look like this.



And this.  A little dancing in between bites never hurt anyone. 

The fewer sitting restrictions the better.  Who needs chairs?

I began to regret allowing this.  However, I was thankful that I had not yet mopped the floor. 

For some reason my father's favorite phrase came to mind..."Were you born in a barn??"

 No.....but I think he'd rather be raised in one.

Somebody Please Hide The Sugar...

....and the bread.
....and the processed foods.
....and everything else that I am craving that I shouldn't be eating.

Back in December a friend of mine threw out a question on Facebook..."Would anyone be interested in doing a Biggest Loser competition starting in January?"

I debated for a bit, and then said yes.  So did 95 others.

I have been battling 10-15 pounds that I lost and then found again, plus 5-10 more that have been obstinate enough to never go away.  However, more than the numbers on the scale, I was tired of not fitting into clothes that I once wore. 

So I decided to jump in.

The initial weigh in was Jan. 2.  After lunch.  This is important.

The first check-point weigh-in was Jan. 21.  The scale showed that I lost 7 lbs.  At first I was celebrating my victory. 

But then it hit me that it was 7:30 in the morning.  Before Breakfast. 

After lunch....before breakfast....and I soon realized that my 7 lbs was really not 7 lbs at all.  More like 4....maybe.

Fast forward 3 more weeks.  Today was our second weigh-in.  If you don't weigh in or if you don't lose weight, you have to pay $5 to the prize money pot. 

The past 3 weeks have been....well....let's just say I put my $5 in my pocket and headed off to the weigh in.  I nearly skipped it altogether, but my very frugal husband said no way - just in case I had lost some weight since the last weigh-in and didn't have to pay. 

The good news:  I didn't have to pay.
The bad news:  In THREE weeks time I lost 1/2 of a pound.  Half.a.pound. 

Sheesh.  Somebody needs a personal trainer.

At this rate, I may reach my goal by June...

of 2014.