On the beginning of the school year...

The beginning of the school year just happened to coincide with the end of my maternity leave.  So, the week of August 24th, not only involved me returning to work, but Banner also went back to preschool and Schafer started day care.

(Side note:  Anyone who thought leaving your second child at day care for the first time was easier than leaving your first, is either smoking something or is a heck of a lot stronger than I am.  I started crying before I even got her out of her carrier.  Not just weepy tears, either.  I full out ugly cried in front of everyone.  On the plus side, though, her teachers sent me almost hourly proof-of-life pictures assuring me Schafer was doing fine.)

By that weekend, Schafer had her first cold and Banner was mute.  At first we thought he just had laryngitis, and found it almost amusing to watch him attempt to communicate with us in mime while eating brunch (seriously, he dropped his toy.  He looked at me, looked at the floor where his toy landed, looked back at me and frowned).  But then, after a trip to the grocery store, I started to worry when he seemed to have a hard time breathing.  An hour and a quick trip to urgent care later, and we had our diagnosis:  Strep Throat. 

It starts.

Our second week of the school year started with me at home in bed with two sick kiddos.

Can I go back to Colorado now?

It may not be official, but it happened anyway...

Last Saturday, this happened:

I have no idea why the number 12 appears twice.
Clearly, the second 12 was supposed to say 13.

I've wanted to run another half for awhile now, but they keep getting canceled.  First, the Dallas Marathon fell victim to the ice storm in December, and then the Mother's Day half I was going to run...well, I have no idea what happened to it.  I picked up a flyer about it at either the Jog'r Egg Nog'r or the Too Cold To Hold.  But when it came time to register, I could not find a single mention of it in 2014. 

The thing is:  I HAD TO RUN.  But probably not for the reason you think.  See, Trevor is running in a Spartan Dash this coming weekend, and I am way too competitive to simply sit back and allow him to compete without accomplishing something as well.

(Note:  This is why we normally run together, because he is the same way.)

Anyway, I was only cleared for physical activity on April 11th, so I've gone from zero to half in four weeks.  To be fair, though, I've been running pretty consistently for the last year.  But my last run over 5 or 10k was way back in February. 

Which is probably the main reason why my self-imposed half wasn't the prettiest thing in the world.  It took nearly two and a half hours, and I saved all the sun, heat, humidity and hills for the bitter end.  But still.  I finished (with an extra two tenths of a mile to boot!).  Without walking (except oh-so briefly during the final quarter of a mile).  And I can finally check that whole "run another half" off my mental to-do list.

Plus, I burned a heck of a lot of calories.
Totally earned those Mother's Day MARGARITAS!

Of course, I've never been one of those people that can run distance without training for it.  And, obviously, I'm not very speedy even when I do.  So it should come as no surprise that running this much this quickly has resulted in a nasty case of bacterial Pharyngitis.  I was fine Wednesday.  Went to the gym after work, ran a 5k and lifted.  Came home and started feeling off during dinner.  Woke up Thursday, and *wham* could barely swallow.  By late afternoon, I started feeling achy with "the chills", and Trevor insisted we spend the first half of our date night at the local PrimaCare.  Rapid strep test was negative, but doc said I definitely had some sort of nasty infection going on at the back of my throat. 

So, $50 and a couple of prescriptions later (yay, drugs!), I'm supposedly on the mend.  Trevor is excited that I've been told to rest.  I'm just looking forward to being able to swallow again without agony.  This is definitely one of the worst sore throats I've ever had.

Still?  That half last weekend?  Totally worth it.  ;P

Where I've been and what I've been doing...sort of

Y'all.  I am so tired.

I don't know what it is, really.  Granted, this time of the year is always hectic at work.  But I just feel like I'm running on fumes.  And it probably doesn't help that I spent the second half of September and the first part of October under the weather.  First with a sore throat and fever that resolved itself after three days of R&R, and then another sore throat a week later that just got worse and worse over the course of seven days until I discovered that I couldn't swallow (as in,  AT ALL).  So, I'm on the good drugs now to treat what the doctor described yesterday as "a very nastily infected throat and tonsils".  I'd go into more detail but every single word my Internist used to describe what he was seeing was exceptionally disgusting, so I'll spare you.  Sufficed to say, this has been the worst sore throat I've ever had, and I'm just glad that I'm on meds now that will allow me to swallow again soon. 

Ironically, though, the second sore throat came with no other symptoms.  No congestion.  No cough.  No fever.  I'm not even hoarse.  And, honestly, I don't even feel that bad...with the exception of the super painful throat, of course.  My doctor says it is possible that I have strep, but since he doesn't believe in strep tests, we'll never know for sure.  Whatever caused the infection, however, wasn't going away on its own.  So I guess it doesn't really matter at this point as long as I can swallow again, and Banner and Trevor don't get it.

(Also, I'm just glad I can still drink on this antibiotic, because Hil and Phil are making their annual pilgrimage to Dallas this weekend and we are going out for margaritas on Friday when their plane gets into Love Field.  Sometimes it is the little (frozen) things (with salt and a swirl of sangria) in life.  Especially after a looooooong week during fair time.)

Banner has been sick on and off, too.  It is like we can't catch a break...or enough sleep.  Oh, and it probably isn't helping anything that the museum was recently discovered to have a pretty major mold problem.  Which is fabulous considering I once had an allergist recommend I move to a more arid environment.  So, maybe the whole throat thing is some sort of bizarre allergic reaction?  It did feel like my throat was starting to close in on me.  But I'm probably just trying to make myself feel better because I so desperately want to be not contagious for Banner and Trevor's sake.  Strep is just a bad, bad five letter word when you have a kiddo, I swear.

Anyhoo, here are two absolutely random and for no reason tidbits that I always meant to blog about in detail, but never got around to mentioning.  And there is really no reason to mention them now, except I feel a compulsive need to for absolutely no reason whatsoever.  I apologize in advance because neither are exceptionally noteworthy.  Much like my blog in general.

1. Apparently, I have a thing for British movies.  Especially flicks about seniors retiring.  I've recently subjected Trevor to Quartet (on my birthday), The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel (possibly my new favorite movie) and Gosford Park. I am pretty sure Trev secretly enjoys them too even if nothing gets blown up and no one gets bitten by a zombie.  I really want to see A Room with a View, but I have a feeling that October - with all its Halloween-inspired movies and TV show premieres - will delay this indefinitely.  Still, I'm feeling very blessed.  After all, I got to choose THREE movies in the last TWO MONTHS.  Before Quartet, I hadn't gotten to pick a movie since Mother's Day 2012.  Most days, I'm surprised I know how to turn on the TV.


2. The last couple of months have also been very trying as Trevor and I have grappled with whether or not we should move.  We would like to have another baby, God willing, someday, but don't live in the best of school districts.  But it isn't just that.  I don't really want to move to another house in this city.  I want to move to another state.  This isn't an immediate issue, but one that nags at us pretty often because we never intended to live in Dallas long term.  Granted, we both have family here, we were raised here.  Heck, we have jobs and a house here.  But...it is still Dallas.  We never intended to raise our children here.  I spent 10 years trying to escape from this city, and now my "temporary" move back has turned into nine years.  Not that I would change a thing, mind you.  Some pretty fabulous things have happened to me in this city.  Still, our lives are so much harder to pick up and move now than they were a decade ago (when my entire life conveniently fit into the back of my Montero). 

And just because I feel like I should end of a different note, Gypsy woke me up this morning by running over to my side of the bed and burping in my face.  It might have been more effective than coffee.  So, yeah.  There is that. 

Consider yourselves caught up on my life.  ;P

Ear drama...

I alluded to it in my last post, but Banner has had a really hard time with his ears lately. It is part of the reason that I've been slacking on the blog updates since returning from Baltimore. His left ear was first diagnosed as "infected" back on April 26th. A ten day course of antibiotics were prescribed, but it was clear something was still wrong a few days after the last dose was administered. Sure enough, the left ear was STILL badly (as in snot-coming-out-of-his-eye-again) infected when I took him back to the doctor on May 10th. A different antibiotic was prescribed for another ten day course. 

On the 22nd, I took him BACK to the doctor for a ear recheck and did a little mental happy dance when the doctor announced that Banner's left ear was finally better and looked great. Then he looked in his right ear and...infected. I almost lost it in the doctor's office.

The doctor and I went back and forth about what to do. Apparently, if it was September, this would be a no brainer. Banner would get tubes. But there is something about this time of year that makes him hesitate. He had some valid points (risks associated with anesthesia, summer and water play, tubes sometimes only last six months, and he doesn't want them falling out right before the cold and flu season peaks, etc.), and I had some valid points (too many antibiotics which give Banner terrible diaper rash/upset tummy and make his eczema flair, ear infections and the risk of speech development/delays, etc.). In the end, the pediatrician gave me another prescription for a third antibiotic along with a referral to a pediatric ENT and told me to he'd respect whatever decision I made.

After much discussion and more than a few tears (mine), Trevor and I decided to fill the third prescription and keep our fingers crossed that this round of drugs finally nips the infections in the bud. This wasn't a decision that was reached lightly, and I'm not kidding when I say that I spoke with several nurses (friends of family and coworkers) just to get their take on the situation. They all agreed with the doctor and thought I should try the last round of antibiotics since this latest infection was - technically - in a different ear that hadn't had any problems since January. 

Of course, a third round of antibiotics is not ideal by any means, but it helps that this course of meds is only seven days long and Banner seems to - finally (knock on wood) - be feeling better. It kills me that my baby has been in so much pain for the last month, and I just pray he is finally on the road to recovery. 

In other news: Banner is a big fan of grape flavoring. How did parents get their kids to take their medicine before such a thing was invented?

The sheep on the hill are still lying still...

Well, I'm back. The weekend was fun, despite the drama (did I mention I went to an all-girls school?). We ate, drank, danced, laughed, cried and took more than one a stroll down memory lane. I saw people I hadn't seen in more than a decade and a half, and have a healthy respect for the class of 1983. Those women know how to party.

Typical.

The tune for the weekend was set - literally - upon landing at BWI. I turned on my cell phone to text my friend (Hi, Lannin!) that I was on the ground, but was distracted by an incoming phone call. From day care. Banner had pink eye and needed to go home. 

OMG, really? 

(I'm not a catastrophist for nothing, you know. And I had just mentioned to Trevor the night before that I was POSITIVE something would happen the second I landed in Baltimore!)

So, I called Trevor and told him he needed to leave work immediately to pick up Banner. 

Me:  “Oh, and by the way, call the vet once you get in the car because his teachers are pretty sure he has conjunctivitis.  Which is highly contagious, so - FOR THE LOVE OF GOD AND ALL THINGS HOLY - WASH YOUR HANDS AND DON’T TOUCH YOUR EYES!”

Trevor:  “The vet?”

Me:  “Seriously?  That's all you got out of my last statement?  A LITTLE STRESSED HERE!"

This would also be the moment that I realized that my own eyes were itching and burning.  Because, obviously.  It's going on 4 PM on a Friday afternoon, I'm 1500 miles from home and I've just convinced myself that I have pink eye.

It’s akin to watching the video about lice and experiencing a sudden, intense scalp itch. Or at least it is was for me because Psychosomatic Disease is STRONG with this one (points at self).

Luckily, less than an hour later, Trevor called back with the FABULOUS news that Banner did not, in fact, have pink eye.  Just another human design flaw ear infection like THIS ONE back in January.

Awesome.

In other news, I had a giant zit on my chin the entire effing weekend. I was actually thinking about how good my skin has been since...well, I got pregnant two years ago. It isn't perfect, but I've definitely had fewer "disasters". And then *wham*: I wake up with something the size of a small volcano on my chin the very morning I'm preparing to fly cross country to see people I haven't seen in ages. I'm super lucky that way.

I'd also like to make a special shout out to Phil for being such a good sport. It was his tenth wedding anniversary, and I'm sure he had about 15,000 different ways he would have preferred to spend it than at his wife's high school reunion at an all girls school. Never mind forcing him to photo-document the reenactment of the infamous Broom Closet Fight of 1996 or helping to blow drying my bed after Hilary he spilled white wine everywhere.

Me:  "I'm blow drying my bed."
Anna:  "I miss you."
Me:  "Seriously.  I'm blow drying my bed."
Anna:  "Are you coming down?"
Me:  "WE ARE BLOW DRYING MY BED!"

And, because I have no idea how to end this post, here is a little bit of photo irony (even though it is less "irony" and more "OMG"):

First thing I saw when I picked up Banner
after landing at DFW on Monday afternoon.

If there is a silver lining, it's the nearly 15 pounds I've lost since Christmas. Most successful diet I've ever been on. Too bad I feel lousy...

Sigh...

Once again I am writing to you from underneath blankets and covers.

(This is really getting ridiculous.)

The stomach-whatever that has now been plaguing me for nearly two weeks, has wiped me off my feet once more.  Even with doctor's orders to avoid raw fruits and vegetables, and all things dairy.

I'm just not sure life is worth living without cheese, but I've been subsisting.

On Saturday, I woke up with abdominal distress and barely ate a thing all day.  I kept getting these waves of pain in my belly - almost like labor contractions, but higher up.  By dinner time, I was running yet another low grade fever (100.4), but the pain seemed to be subsiding.  Sure enough, it was completely gone by Sunday morning.  In fact, my only symptoms yesterday (other than general weakness and exhaustion) were random bouts of dizziness and lightheadedness.  I even made it to the Super Bowl party that Trevor and I were co-hosting with a group of friends.

Then I woke up today, and bad, bad, bad.  And, of course, the internist that has been overseeing my care since my primary doctor referred me to her two weeks ago is out of the office.

Jury Duty.

When I heard that the internist was out, I briefly considered calling my primary doctor, but I've decided she's hysterical since she keeps threatening to stick me in the hospital for further testing.  In fact, she made this particular threat again on Friday.  It isn't that I have a problem with hospitals.  It is just that the internist she referred me to did a whole new batch of blood tests LAST week, and they all came back negative (except for signs of a phantom infection somewhere within my being).  I'm not diabetic, my organs look stellar and I'm negative for everything from Mono to Lyme's Disease.

Maybe I'm crazy (or just in denial), but I'm not 100% convinced that I'm not just suffering from random virus after random virus.  I've never pretended to have good luck, and being sick for weeks and weeks only seems to reinforce my belief that - for whatever reason - my immune system can't get ahead of itself.

And that 2013, so far, really, really sucks health-wise.

Luckily, my internist shares an office with a family practitioner.  I've seen him from time to time over the years for things like migraines and sinus infections.  He looked at my file (which now contains everything my primary doctor and the internist have done, tested and treated since before Christmas), and has his own hypothesis.

He thinks that the two courses of antibiotics that were administered to treat my horrible flu-induced bronchitis back in the first half of January left me open and vulnerable for either some sort of intestinal infection or Giardia.  Luckily, the same antibiotic treats both, so hopefully I'll be miraculously cured (for real this time) in about 10 days.

Only problem is that this particular antibiotic apparently makes you VIOLENTLY ill if you have even a hint of alcohol while taking it (think: Antabuse).  Which kind of sucks since we've had a babysitter lined up for Valentine's Day for weeks now, so we can go our favorite tapas restaurant and drink copious amounts of their delicious red wine sangria.

Bright side:  At least Trevor will have a driver, and we won't have to pay for a sitter AND a cab.

(And, yes, I realize that Valentine's Day is 10 days from now, but the pharmacist made a point of letting me know the drugs will stay in my system for 3 days after I take the last pill.  Hopes = dashed.  I guess I'll just have to come up with some other excuse for Trevor to take me there later on.)

In other news, I've decided that if I do have Giardia, it is because the dogs conspired to give it to me to get out of their bimonthly bath.  After all, it isn't like we are strangers to random attacks of the intestinal parasite at our house.  We have three dogs.  It comes with the territory.  Although, this is one territory that I wish would have stayed in the dog run with the resident canines.

Also, for all those people out there that have commented recently that "maybe I'm pregnant", I'm not.  And even though I knew that already, I still took a test just to make sure.  Because I'm neurotic.  And because when you are seemingly chronically ill with a mystery infection, you start grasping at straws.  But this particular straw, thank goodness, had only one pink line, not two.  So we are in the clear in that regard, at least.  Moving on...

Warning: Pity Party below...

Sorry I've been MIA.  I started to feel like a broken record with posts about being sick all the time.  Which, of course, means that I got sick again on Thursday.  I wasn't going to say anything about it this time, because it is embarrassing to admit it when your immune system goes on some sort of semi-permanent holiday.

It is just that I am generally a healthy person.  I've been at the museum since 2004, and have never used all of my allotted sick time in a given year.  Even last year with all the day care bugs, I still managed to let 1.5 expire.  But 2013 JUST started, and I've already gone through a third of my sick days.  It simply blows my mind.

Granted, I've only used half a day so far for my own illnesses.  The rest have all been Banner-related.  But that is simply the "luck" of falling ill on the weekends and over the New Year holiday.

It has gotten so bad that my doctor actually drew blood on Thursday and tested it for everything from viruses to vitamin deficiency to kidney and liver function to anemia to leukemia.  But everything (thank goodness) came back normal.  In fact, the only things that were revealed are that my body seems to be fighting some sort of nasty infection and I'm dehydrated.  Which, considering that I came in on Thursday with what I assumed to be a nasty case of food poisoning, really isn't all that surprising.

The thing is, though, I've been running a low grade fever since my fever broke from whatever I had last weekend.  Nothing too high, but just enough (between 99.9 and 100.9) to make me feel just...well, crappy.  And, of course, the stomach problems have been adding insult to injury since they began early Thursday morning.

I'm simply tired of all the sore throats, coughing, pounding headaches and night sweats.  I'm sick of being stuck in bed and trying my best to choke down saltines and Gatorade.  Heck, I'm just sick of being sick.

I miss sleeping next to my husband, who has possibly slept more nights on our couch than in bed with me this month.  Poor Trevor has had to do more than his fair share of parenting lately, and I know that taking care of a one year old is hard enough without a chronically sick wife to worry about.  I've tried my best to help out, but I know I'm not fooling anyone.  Taking care of the baby requires energy, and I simply do not have any.

But, mostly, I ache for my Banner.  It has been weeks since I felt well enough to chase after him and play.  I'm missing so much.  Trevor says on Saturday, Banner crawled over to the couch, grabbed a blanket and dragged it back over to where his daddy was lying on the floor.  Then, without any prompting, Ban curdled up next to his father, pulled the blanket up to his chin, snuggled in and fell asleep.  AND I MISSED IT.

I've been joking that Banner is going to forget who I am, but I didn't really mean it.  But this morning, Trevor brought him to me for a goodbye hug, and Ban started to cry.  He didn't stop until he was back in his father's arms.

It just about killed me.

If there is any good in any of this, it is the 8-10 pounds that I've lost since Christmas.  Although, I'm not sure I'd recommend "The I'm Sick Diet" to anyone out there.  Still, if there is a silver lining, there it is.

Bad oranges, chamomile and big, yellow boxes of corn starch...

Yesterday, I ate bad oranges.

To be fair, I had just consumed Greek yogurt.  Citrus after dairy always tastes weird.

But then I saw the mold and...well, you know.

I'll spare you the details, but - suffice it to say - there were several trips to the bathroom to purge myself of said oranges.  Which sounds awful, but really wasn't.  I wasn't even nauseous.  It may have even been psychosomatic.  I ate moldy fruit.  I was disgusted.  My body took care of it.  Problem solved.  The end.

In fact, my biggest fear was that one of my coworkers would overhear and mistakenly assume I was suffering from morning sickness.  Which, no.  I'm most definitely not.

In other news, Banner has been suffering from terrible diaper rash.  He is on amoxicillin to treat his double ear infection, and it has caused a whole host of tummy-related misery.  We've worked with the pediatrician's office to adjust the dosage (amount, timing, etc.) with some success, but he is still having some issues in the "stool" department.  To put it bluntly for all the nonparents out there:  diarrhea begets diaper rash.  Especially when it lasts FOR DAYS.

Seriously.  Don't say I never taught you anything.

Anyway, the diaper rash went from bad to worse in a matter of days, and my poor baby started screaming like we were burning him with fiery hot pokers whenever we broke out the wipes.

And then he stopped sleeping.  Because whenever he peed, it burned, but fixing the problem involved the use of wipes AND OMG.

Available at your local Fiesta Market.

But don't worry.  Things are looking up thanks to our fabulous babysitter.  My friend, Ashley, has been swearing by Molly's "miracle cure for diaper rash" for MONTHS, but it wasn't until yesterday that I actually became desperate enough to call my babysitter and BEG for her to come over and work her magic.  And work it she did.  Twenty-four hours, two chamomile baths and a day's worth of diapers FULL of Fecula de Maiz and Banner is now diaper rash free.

Even day care is impressed, which is awesome considering the questioning looks Trevor got from Lupe when he dropped Banner off with a box of corn starch this morning.  Ebony even asked where we got the Maizena that afternoon because she wanted to get a box for her 13 month old daughter.  She was THAT impressed.

So, Banner now has a permanent yellow box of corn starch sitting next to his diaper changing caddy both at home and school, and is a much happier little boy because of it.

Don't diss it until you've tried it, folks.  Or, like us, become too desperate not to.  Because it cleared Banner's bootie up so fast that I was left feeling very guilty for not calling Molly much, much sooner.

Poor baby.

And, just in case you are wondering, Molly swears that you don't get the same result if you use other kinds of corn starch or manzanilla.  It has to be the brands listed above.  But don't worry.  They are super inexpensive.  I bought two boxes of Maizena and ten bags of chamomile for under $13 at Fiesta.  A one pound jar of Desitin at Babies R Us retails for $13.99 online.

So, yeah, in the words of Charlie Sheen circa 2011:  WINNING.

Seriously, Universe?

Banner was up half of last night with a stomach virus.  I think we changed his sheets three of four times.

Poor little guy.  Throwing up is the worst.  And he already has a double ear infection.  Talk about adding insult to injury.

Then, I woke up this morning with a sore throat and a temperature that has spent most of the day between 100 and 101.5.  

Good times.

In other news, being sick (again) means that I've spent a significant amount of time watching highly questionable TV.  Because you know you are ill when changing the channel is too much effort.  Which explains why I think I watched 3 or 4 hours dosing in and out of consciousness to a HOARDERS: BURIED ALIVE marathon.  Until, that is, our power (mercifully) went out.  I'd like to think some sort of higher power was saving me from myself.  Because I'm already stressed out by the mere idea of too much clutter.  Throw in a fever and the fact that I was only half awake all afternoon, and you have a recipe for some exceptionally bizarro nightmares involving garbage, six foot high piles of newspapers and the occasional dead cat.

If it weren't for the fever, I'd totally be on a cleaning spree right now.

Here's to hoping for a better feeling tomorrow!

I spoke too soon. There is something worse than poop in the bathtub.

Banner had to go to the pediatrician this morning, because he had "goopy eyes".

Y'all.  I was terrified it was conjunctivitis.  And it didn't help that Trevor kept doing everything in his power to touch Banner and then promptly rub his own eyes.

I'm so not kidding.

The whole thing stressed me out.  Because nothing puts a proverbial cherry on top of a terrible start to a year like a little pink eye outbreak.

But no worries.  Banner made sure to rub his eyes and then sock me in mine at 6:30 this morning.  If we were going down, we were doing it as a family.

Anyway, I took Banner to the doctor expecting the worst.  But, instead, learned that it wasn't, in fact, pink eye at all.  My poor baby has another double ear infection.  The doctor says he's probably been in  a lot of pain, and he was kind of surprised that Banner's ear drums didn't rupture.

Which?  I feel like a terrible mother for not figuring it out sooner.  Poor baby!  I had no idea!  I thought all the fussiness was caused by the molars breaking through!

But, the worst, was finding out what was causing the goopy eyes.  Banner's poor ears couldn't drain in a typical manner (down the back of the throat, out the nose, etc.).  So they drained in the only way they could:  OUT OF HIS EYES.

OMG!

I didn't even know that was possible!  Clearly this is some sort of design flaw.

I'd type more but I am too horrified.

In case you've been wondering where we've been...

Y'all.  It has been quite the week.

Banner turned one on Friday, we celebrated on Sunday, took him to the doctor for his 12 month appointment on Monday and he was in the hospital on Wednesday.

Yes.  You read that right.  The hospital.

Banner started running a fever Monday night.  We called the doctor, but everyone assumed it was just a mild reaction to the shots he received that afternoon.  No big deal, right?  It is a pretty common reaction to vaccinations, and the fever wasn't even that high.  Just under 102.

Tuesday morning was pretty awful.  Poor baby had the chills and cried non stop until the baby Motrin finally started working.  Then, mercifully, he fell asleep on my chest for two hours.

Trevor and I split the day.  I stayed home with Banner in the morning, while Trevor went to work.  And we swapped in the afternoon.  By three, Trevor reported that the fever had come back but lower than it was that morning.  Only 101.4.  But Banner had taken another two hour nap and seemed to be feeling better.

Wednesday morning started fever free.  Trevor even considered taking him to school, but I wanted him to be fever free for 24 hours before taking him back to day care (even though we were still convinced this was a shot-induced fever, and our little guy wasn't contagious).  It turned out to be a wise move, because his fever was back up to nearly 102 by mid morning.  Unlike the day before, however, the fever didn't seem to be making him feel bad, and he was busy playing with all his toys.  So, I held off giving him a dose of baby Motrin until lunchtime in the hopes "that letting the fever burn" a little would help his immune system do its thing.

He also had two big poops that morning.  The second of which resulted in an unexpected bath and emergency load of laundry.

Yes.  It was THAT bad.

Trevor was unable to come home on Wednesday afternoon, so my sister babysat while I put in another half day at the office.  When I checked on Banner, she reported that he had taken a nice, long nap and was busy eating some apple slices and Cheerios that she had prepared.  She had taught him to make "fishy faces" that afternoon and he was still making them when I returned home around 5:30 that evening.  Banner was in a great mood and even greeted me at the door.

After Amy left, I changed Banner and - even though he felt cool - checked his temperature.  100.9.  A fever isn't considered a fever in a baby until 100.4, so this was pretty low grade.  I remember thinking to myself that he was finally getting better.

This was around 6 PM.

Trevor arrived home about 20 minutes later.  I was in the process of giving Banner his last bottle of the day.  But, unlike most nights, Banner didn't seem interested in his milk.   At first I thought it was because he was full from all the snacks he had eaten with Amy, but - on a whim - I asked Trevor to take his temp again.  You know, just incase.

103.7.

I called the on-call nurse at my pediatrician's office, and left a message for them to call me back.

Fifteen minutes went by, and Banner was looking worse and worse.  His eyes were starting to weep, and he was lethargic and pink.  Trevor took his temperature again, and it was over 104.  Not knowing what else to do, we hurriedly packed a diaper bag, put Banner in the car and drove to Children's Hospital.

The on-call nurse at our pediatrician's office never did get around to calling us back.

Trevor had never been to nor heard of Children's Hospital, which I found strange considering I had been there just last month on a foundation-related tour of the cardiac ICU.  My brother had been a patient there back in the mid 80s when he lost one of his kidneys, and - really - if you have a sick kiddo in this city, it is simply where you go.  I even chose my pediatrician, in part, because he did his residency there and still has privileges.  Trevor would say I'm a catastrophist.  I prefer "prepared".

We arrived at at Children's around 7:30.  I had cried for most of the drive in an effort to get it out of my system and compose myself before arriving at the hospital.  It almost worked because my tears turned to anger when we exited I-35, and Trevor had no idea where to go.  He kept trying to pull into a parking garage when - clearly - the hospital was across the street.  To say I was "irrational with worry" would have put it mildly.  I pretty much tore his head off.

We ended up pulling up to the main entrance valet, where I got out, took Banner and left Trevor to figure out the part about parking and whatnot.

I still to this day have no idea where the emergency room entrance is to Children's.

Since I entered through the hospital's main entrance, I had to ask where the emergency room was, and - promptly - started to cry.  The anger had disappeared and been replaced with what it was all along:  SCARED.

A man handed me a sticker with "E.D." printed on it, and a very nice lady took the time to walk me through the maze of corridors to the emergency room.  I was so grateful.

When we arrived, it was clear that the emergency room was overwhelmed with patients.  There weren't enough chairs for everyone, and families with sick children littered the floors and hallways.  Nurses kept walking through telling people to "clear the area", but there was no place for any of us to go.

My mom later texted me that the lead story on the news that evening was how slammed the ER at Children's was with the flu, RSV and other respiratory illnesses.

I filled out the initial paperwork, handed it in and proceed to do my best to stay out of everyone's way.  Trevor eventually found me in all the chaos, but said he might not be able to wait with me for long.  In an effort to cut down on the number of people clogging the waiting areas, only one parent or family member was allowed to wait with the sick child.  Everyone else, including Trevor, had a sticker with "Lobby" printed on it.

There was another family there with a baby that looked to only be a month or six weeks old.  Trevor and I gave them our newly acquired seats in the waiting area when we saw them.  I just remember thinking about how little and fragile their baby was, and how terrified they must be.  At least Banner has an immune system and twelve months of vaccines and day care viruses under his belt.  Their baby was too young, and yet there she was in the middle of it all.

I hope she is doing okay.

We were called into triage around 8 PM.  We described Banner's symptoms, and they took his temperature.  It was 104.7.  They told us to take off all of his clothes in an effort to cool him down and that we'd be admitted to the emergency room shortly.

About fifteen minutes went by, and Banner and I were taken across the hall to another waiting area.  Trevor couldn't come with us, and went to wait in the lobby.  The ER waiting room was much less crowded than triage, and there were more than enough chairs for everyone.  Banner and I tried to sit as far away from everyone else as possible.  Not because we were afraid of germs (after triage, it didn't matter), but because it was cooler away from all the other feverish bodies.  And my baby felt like he was on fire.

The hardest part about waiting in the ER was that I had to do it without Trevor.  I had my cell phone, though, and took the opportunity to notify family of the situation via text.

Around 9 PM, Banner was taken back to be accessed by the ER nurses.  They did a whole host of tests back there, but the only one I remember was the taking of his temperature rectally.  It was 105.2.  They immediately gave him a dose of Motrin, and asked me if I had noticed any signs of seizures in my baby.    Apparently, when fevers spike so quickly in infants, their bodies can't handle it and they often seize.

OMG.

The nurses made it sound like these kinds of febrile seizures are no big deal, but I assure you - had it happened to my son - it would have been a very big deal.  I'm not sure I could have handled it.

After the ER evaluation, we returned to the waiting room for about thirty minutes before being reunited with Trevor and taken back to an exam room.  Banner had perked up quite a bit by this point, and I was oh-so relieved to discover that his fever had dropped back down below 103.  The Motrin was working.

Of course, now that his temperature was down, they wanted Banner to eat or drink something.  Fevers have a way of rapidly dehydrating a person, and getting some fluids into him was essential.  Problem was, Banner was completely uninterested in the formula or Pedialyte they offered him.  He even refused water.  We were able to get a squeezie in him, but everything else was turned down or made him gag.

Then he started throwing up.  The first time was just like a larger than average spit up, but about forty-five minutes later he blew chucks.  And I mean that literally, because I was suddenly wearing the apple slices Amy had made him earlier in the afternoon, along with everything else he had in his stomach.

It was awful.

(Although, I did get a very comfy pair of scrubs out of it.  Trevor was immediately jealous of them, which is funny since I would have done just about anything to not be thrown up on in the first place.)

Because he couldn't keep anything down, the doctor wanted to take blood, run some tests and give Banner fluids intravenously to help rehydrate him.  I was going to stay for the procedure and help hold Ban down, but realized very quickly that I have no stomach for needles as far as my baby is concerned.  So, Trevor stayed with him, while I excused myself briefly to change out of my puke-stained jeans into the aforementioned scrubs.  I'm glad I did, because Banner apparently moved during the procedure and blood went everywhere (seriously, when I returned it was all over the gurney and floor).  Had I been there, I'm pretty sure I would have fainted.

After the IV was in, though, I curled up with Banner in the chair.  Poor baby was exhausted and fell asleep in my arms.

It took about an hour for the contents of the IV to drip slowly into Banner.  After which, they wanted us to try to get him to eat of drink again.  But, just like before, Banner refused everything we put in front of him.  Which is why, at 2 AM, the decision was made to admit Banner to the hospital.

It took two hours for them to find a bed because the hospital was so crowded.  And, even then, it was on the cardiac floor.  We were taken to it just after 4 AM.

On our trip up to the room, the nurse told us that there were still over 50 people waiting to be seen in the ER.  That's just how busy it was Wednesday night.

Upon arriving in the room, Banner was hooked up to another IV and FINALLY had not one, but TWO wet diapers.  I've never been so happy to change a diaper before in my life.

After the nurses finally left and we got Banner down, Trevor and I fell asleep (he in the chair and I on the couch).  It was just after 5 AM.

The thing about me being a catastrophist and all is that sometimes it works out to our benefit.  Everyone in the ER the night before knew our pediatrician.  The ER doctor knew him as "Joe".  They had done their residency at Children's together.  And one of the nurses used to work with him at his current practice.  But the best was seeing his face when he walked through our hospital room door a little before 8 AM Thursday morning to examine Banner for himself.  Apparently, he had been notified in the middle of the night that one of his patients was admitted to the hospital, and we were his first stop that morning.

Granted, I have generally NOTHING nice to say about the on-call and advice nurses at his practice, but considering we don't go there to see the nurses, I've decided this doesn't really matter.  The doctors are fabulous, and seem to genuinely care about their patients.  And, with a year of parenting under my belt, I'm starting to figure out what constitutes an emergency and what doesn't - especially now that I've gotten comfortable administering baby Ibuprofen and Tylenol on my own.

I guess it is all about perspective.  Which is kind of funny considering I was seriously thinking about switching pediatricians less than two weeks ago because I was so fed up with the practice's on call nursing staff when I had the flu.  And then a real emergency happened and I (re)realized all the things that I already knew were important.  I guess it takes a crisis to truly focus sometimes.

But I digress, after my pediatrician visited, we got the green light to try to get Banner to drink again.  They ordered the same formula that he is used to at home, and we finally got about four ounces into him around 9 AM.  When that stayed down, we gave him four more a little while later.  By early afternoon he was able to keep down eight all at once, which meant that the doctors finally gave him the green light to come off the IV (although they left the needle in his arm until we were discharged just in case).  It was clear by that time that Banner was feeling better - he started to play, laugh and cruise around his hospital crib.  I've never felt so relieved in my life to have my baby pull my hair and throw his toys in my direction.

We were discharged around 4 PM Thursday afternoon, after Banner was rehydrated and his fever had stayed at bay for twelve hours.  The strange thing is that no one was ever able to figure out what was wrong or what had caused the fever.  All of Banner's viral panels had come back negative, and nothing in his blood work even hinted at an infection.  Even the cultures that took two days to grow yielded nothing.  His official discharge papers from the hospital just allude to dehydration caused by high fever.

I was worried that the fever was caused by Banner's twelve month vaccinations.  After all, the fever started within hours of receiving the Hepatitis A, Chickpox (varicella), PCV13 and MMR.  The problem is that allergic reactions usually take place immediately (not 48+ hours later), and involve things like rash/hives, swelling and rapid heart rate.  And, while MMR is known to give high fevers in babies, such a reaction does not generally occur until 7-10 days AFTER the shot is administered.  Same with Chickenpox.

So, even though no viruses were found to explain the fever, the doctor's best guess is that Banner had one.  This theory is supported, somewhat, by the fact that I know of two other babies that have been hospitalized with nearly identical symptoms either just before or after Banner.  Sounds like some sort of mystery virus is making the rounds, but no one really knows.

The good news:  Banner is definitely on the mend.  He ran a low grade fever Thursday and Friday night, but felt cool both Saturday and Sunday.  Despite a 4 AM coughing fit last night, he seems to feel fine and is back in school today.

The bad news:  Trevor was sick all last week, and got worse during our hospital stay.  At the time, I wanted him to go home and rest, and was frustrated that he absolutely refused to do so.  Rationally, I got that he wanted to be with his son in the hospital, but it just about made me crazy to see him hacking all over the place.  By Friday morning, he could barely function.  My mom had come to stay at home with Banner so I could go to the office for a bit and catch up since I had barely been at work all week, but she never saw Trevor because he was barricaded in the bedroom.  Both our doctor's offices were completely full, so poor Trevor had no choice but to go to the local PrimaCare.  Since everyone in the metroplex is sick right now, it took hours for him to be seen.  The diagnosis:  the flu AND a nasty case of strep throat.

Seriously, Universe?

Trevor started antibiotics on Friday afternoon, but only started moving around again yesterday.  I did my best to keep Banner out of the house as much as possible over the weekend (THANK YOU, GRAMMY PAMMY), slept in the guest room and took care of all household and baby-related duties.

So far, 2013 has really been a doozie for my family health-wise, and the year isn't even two weeks old, yet.  So many things have fallen by the wayside in the interim.  Thank you notes remain unwritten, presents haven't been put away...heck, Banner's first birthday decorations are still up in our living room.

I just can say enough to all those who have helped out, brought us food, risked "contamination" to play with Banner and keep me sane.  You all know who you are, and I am so grateful.

Hopefully, we are all on the mend, and things will get back to a sense of normal (whatever that is!) soon.  Thank goodness everything we have had recently has been treatable.  It has been miserable, but we will recover.

In the meantime, here's to the rest of 2013 being a healthy and happy one!

I didn't count down to 2013, but the fireworks woke me up so I was aware it happened...

Y'all.

I'm sick.

Which should definitely be taken into account when reading the following.  Because I'm on some serious drugs, and I have a feeling this post will take four times longer to write than normal, ramble on and on, have more than my fair share of grammatical errors and - quite possibly - not make one lick of sense.

In my defense, it is hard to have a coherent thought when you keep nodding off.

I've actually spent a lot of my holiday under the weather, but it has been especially bad the last several days.  And, just incase you were wondering, being sick in bed for days really wasn't exactly how I intended on ringing in the New Year.

I'm guessing I'm not alone in that sentiment.  Because, you know, being sick sucks.  Especially considering that the alternative included a small gathering at my house with friends, delicious home cooked food and champagne.

But first, a quick recap:

(Which:  HAHA.  Like I could ever "recap" anything quickly.)

My last day of work in 2012 was December 19th.  That afternoon, though, day care called. Banner had a fever.  I called the pediatrician, made an after hours appointment for after 6 PM and picked up my baby from school.  I am so grateful my sister and brother-in-law were able to babysit that afternoon.  I had so many little things to finish up before the end of the year.

Turns out, the cold that I took Banner to the pediatrician's office back on November 28th, had finally turned into a double ear infection.  Antibiotics were prescribed, and Banner was able to return to school  after lunch the very next day.  It was bittersweet, because the 20th was the last day he was an official member of the room two.  As of the 21st, my baby became a full fledged member of the toddler room.  We had been advised to try to keep Banner in school as much as possible during the transition to help ease him into his new classroom.  To this end, my mom and I did a whole host of girly things (mani/pedis, a savory lunch at Rise with family friends, etc.) to keep me from being tempted to pick him up early on Friday afternoon.

Anyway, I only mention all this because it was sometime that afternoon that I first started to notice my voice getting hoarse.

I had been been recovering from a mild something that I had gotten the week before.  There had been a front that had brought unseasonably warm temperatures to north Texas, and with it a whole lot of allergy-related misery for yours truly.  I actually thought I was coming down with a sinus infection until a strong cold front blew through town and took whatever it was that I was reacting to out of the air.  But it took a week for my sinuses to drain - even if I was feeling a million times better.

So, when I started going hoarse on the 21st, I really wasn't all that worried.  I just figured all the drainage had finally caught up with my larynx.  Except I was a bonafide mute 24 hours later.  By Monday, however,  I had a kind of sexy drawl thing going on and seemed to - once again - be on my way to recovery.  And, really, who has time to be sick on Christmas Eve?  The hoarseness (more raspy than anything) - along with the ever present drainage - continued all of last week.  It made me cough when I was horizontal, but I really wasn't worried because I honestly didn't feel that bad. Laryngitis, on its own, doesn't seem like much of a symptom to complain about.  Especially when you almost (but not really) sound like a young Demi Moore in GHOST.

On Saturday (December 29 if you are having a hard time with the timeline...again, no idea if this is making sense), I woke up feeling fine.  I even made it to the gym for the first time in a week and a half.  I lifted and put in a hour and fifteen minutes on the elliptical machine before heading home to have "man cakes" (Trevor's name for his yummy whole wheat, quinoa pancakes) with my boys.

That afternoon my chest started to feel a little tight.  Sort of like it does after I've gone for a long run in the cold.  But, otherwise, I felt fine.  Plus, Trevor and I had evening plans.  Since I sucked at Christmas this year (another story altogether), I took Trevor out on a date night.  We hadn't been to a movie in theaters since JULY, and not to a movie TOGETHER in theaters since May (we saw THE DARK KNIGHT separately; Trevor with his brother and me with a friend for her birthday).  We were long overdue for a date night. A date night, might I add, where it was completely acceptable for us both to wear sweatshirts and sneakers.  Normally, we only splurge on a sitter when we have somewhere we need to be - like a party, wedding or couples shower.  But it is rare that we get out - just the two of us - without any real concrete plans except "dinner somewhere" and "yeah, a movie would be nice".  I haven't looked forward to something so much in months.  Even if dinner + movie + babysitter = $$$.  Sometimes you just need to splurge.

And, just in case you were wondering, we ate Tex-Mex (Kona Grill had an hour wait) and saw Les Mis.

(I warned you that this post would ramble.)

By the time the movie was over, I felt off health-wise in the uh-oh-I-think-I'm-really-getting-sick-this-time kind of way, and climbed into bed almost the second we got home.  I had envisioned the evening concluding with a glass of wine with my hubby on the couch.  Instead, it ended with a pair of decongestants, a dose of Mucinex and a very liberal application of Vicks VapoRub on both my chest and my feet (with socks because someone told me this works).  I'm bringing sexy back, people.  Just ask my husband.

Sunday I didn't get out of bed all day and ran a low grade fever (99.5 - 100.4).

Yesterday, that fever spiked to over 102.  That, along with the fact that I was a million times worse than I was the day before and it felt like my ribs were breaking with every, single cough, made me decide to call the doctor.  Which, let me tell you, is something easier said than done on New Year's Eve.  My regular doctor was on vacation, and their only suggestion was to try to get an appointment at the local PrimaCare.  Except everyone in Dallas is also sick, so the wait time to see a doctor was being measured in HOURS.

On a whim (hey, I was desperate), I called my GYN's office at 9:30 AM.  I figured her office would be closed on NYE, but was surprised to find them open and seeing patients.  They were able to work me in in under an hour, and got me into an exam room immediately.  Granted I didn't see my doctor immediately.  I think they just got me in the room as fast as possible to quarantine me from their other patients.  I totally didn't mind.  Plus, the exam room had a table that I could lie down on.  Who cares that it also had stirrups.  I felt like I was winning!  When my doctor was finally able to see me (and I really didn't have to wait long.  Maybe 30-45 minutes), I don't think I've ever been so happy to see my lady parts doctor before in my life.  I actually started to cry.  No joke.  Being sick makes me very emotional.  Again, just ask Trevor.  Or my Gynecologist.

Anyway, I learned from my doctor that both of ears are badly infected, and she was surprised I could hear out of my left one "with all the pus" (ew).  Throat was raw, and lots of drainage (could have told her that), and she couldn't get clear breath sounds (not the technical term, but I hope it suffices) from my left lung.  I thought it was only because I couldn't inhale deeply without hacking, but she ordered a chest x-ray to be safe.  Then she took a swab of my nose (not fun), and had me wait in the exam room while she had her nurse scheduled the chest x-ray over at Presby.

She told me that I probably either had severe bronchitis or walking pneumonia.  The chest x-ray would tell us which one.  I wasn't pleased with either option.

When they finally let me out of the exam room, several of the nurses had masks on.  And the receptionist wouldn't even let me pay for my visit.  Said she bill me later.  By mail.  Guess I looked worse than I thought.  Then Liz, the nurse, walked me out of the office so I wouldn't touch any of their door handles.

Liz also expressed concern when she learned that Trevor wasn't waiting downstairs to drive me to Presby for my chest x-ray.  I don't know if it bothered me more that she thought I looked too bad to drive or if she thought my husband would simply wait in the car for an hour while I went inside for a doctor appointment.

But, as always, I digress...I had barely set foot inside the diagnostic imaging center for the chest x-ray when I was ordered to put on a mask myself, and told to wait in a private waiting room "away from all the healthy patients".  I felt like Typhoid Mary.  The plus side, however, was that they got me in and out of there quickly.  Even if they had a really hard to getting a good picture of my lungs because I couldn't do something as simple as "take a deep breath and hold" without dissolving into yet another a coughing fit.

X-ray done, I had nothing to do except to go home and await the test results.  Bed never looked so good.  All the more so since it was pouring down rain outside and chilly.

My doctor called back around 2:30 PM.  Test results were in:  Type A Influenza.  The virus very nearly gave me full fledged pneumonia in less than 36 hours.  I now understand why the flu kills even perfectly healthy adults every year.  My doctor told me that if I hadn't come in when I did, I probably would have ended up in the hospital.  It was progressing very, very quickly.

...!

I'm sorry, what?

My first thought was, "BUT I HAD MY FLU SHOT BACK IN OCTOBER!"

But then panic set in, as Banner's face flashed before my eyes.  He had napped with me twice on Sunday.  Before my fever had broken 100.  Back before I realized how really sick I was, and I was trying to help give Trevor a break.  I am always so worried about my baby being exposed to germs and this time it was all my fault!

My doctor told me to tell everyone I had been in contact with in the last 24-36 hours about my diagnosis, and advise them to call their doctor and get a prescription for Tamiflu.  Trevor was able to obtain one from his doctor, as were Amy and Adam (who came over to help Trev with Banner on Sunday evening).  Our pediatrician, however, refused to give Banner a prescription until he started to show signs of being ill.  Which completely terrified me yesterday considering how rapidly my health deteriorated, and today being a national holiday and all (and, again, being sick makes me emotional).  Plus, Google will be the first to tell you that Type A Influenza is especially risky for babies under two.  But - knock on wood - so far Trevor and Banner are both doing okay.

I just hope that maybe their flu shots had something in them that mine did not.  I know that sounds ridiculous, but I cannot bear the thought of getting either of them sick.  I'm hoping for a miracle.  My doctor said the incubation period for the flu is usually two days, but can be up to four.  We are halfway there, but not out of the woods yet.

In the meantime, I haven't held my baby since Sunday.  I tried Facetiming with him today from bed, but I don't think he understood why mommy was stuck in a box and he kept hitting the mute button on Trevor's phone.  The couple of times he has seen me today (washing the sheets after my fever broke, grabbing something from the fridge to take my many, many pills with, letting my "nurse maid", Gypsy, out for a potty break, etc.), he has cried for me to hold him and crawled after me like I was abandoning him.  Talk about ripping my heart out!  I miss him so much, and he is only in the other room!

Trevor has been amazing.  Not only has he brought me soup and made me dinner, he has also been full time dad for the baby.  Banner has been going through a fussy phase in the last couple of weeks, and can be a lot to deal with (Trev calls him "ornery").  We normally alternate, but I'm not supposed to touch Banner until Thursday.  Assuming Banner is still feeling okay in the morning, he can go to day care.  I'm sure Trevor will welcome the break - even if just back to the regular work day grind.  I don't know how single parents do it.

I hope Banner sleeps better than he did last night.  Poor baby is teething on top of everything else (stupid molars) and woke up three or four times overnight.  I was up, too, but completely unable to assist.  It is an awful feeling not being able to take care of your own child.  Especially when that child is sobbing in a room that is less than ten feet from yours.

I keep apologizing to Trevor like I got the flu on purpose.

On the bright side, the drugs the doctor gave me seem to be working.  I'm on a bunch of pills:  an antibiotic, some sort of super prescription strength decongestant, Prednisone (to help my lungs), and a cough syrup with codeine in it.  I was also told to take Motrin every four hours to control my fever, but I haven't had any since this morning and my fever has been in the 97.5 - 98 degree range all afternoon.  I just hope this continues to be the case.  Fever is miserable.  And yesterday, every time I took another dose of Motrin, my fever would break again and I'd wake up in a puddle.  Thank goodness Trevor has relocated to the couch temporarily, because it allowed me to gradually move over to his side of the bed.  I'm not kidding you when I say I had to change clothes five times last night because I woke up completely saturated in sweat.  Stripping and remaking the bed this morning felt like running a marathon.  Less than three days ago, I was easily did over an hour of cardio.  And today I got winded tucking in the top sheet.  Again, I am fascinated by how quickly this thing kicked my a$$.

I'm no doctor (obviously) but I can't help but wonder if the other little illnesses I've had over the course of the last several weeks laid the ground work for some sort of "perfect storm" when the flu virus hit.  I already had a bunch of lingering drainage.  Maybe even a mild sinus-related infection that would have cleared up on its own.  And then:  BAM.

I just hope that after spending another doctor-ordered day in bed tomorrow, I'll be back at work as scheduled on Thursday morning.  Four days in bed is enough to make anyone want to get back to normal.

Here's to hoping that my immune system gets a clue in the New Year.  2012 was a bit of a doozy from my scary delivery to the antibiotic resistant sinus infection that took over three months to resolve (and eventually led to me falling short of my goal of breastfeeding for a year) to being steamrolled by the flu on New Year's Eve.  I could use a little dose of healthy for awhile.

Banner, too.

Actually, my whole family.  We've had everything from mom losing part of her bowel due to an intestinal kink on Easter, to dad having a severe allergic reaction that landed him in the ER, to blood poisoning (my brother), to a concussion (my sister), to cancer scares, to actual cancer - all in my immediate family.  I said it back in October, but literally every single one of us have been in the hospital this year with some kind of medical emergency.  I guess when you look at it that way, the flu isn't that bad.  Especially since I didn't wind up in the ER.  Because that would have really been a way to start AND end a year.

I'm pretty sure Trevor made me an entire can of black-eyed peas for dinner.  I ate them all.  Figured I could use the extra luck in 2013.

Another week has come and gone and I have the pictures to prove it...

Apologies if you read this post before you were supposed to.  I hit "save" but Blogger decided to go ahead and publish it anyway.  And, of course, I didn't realize what had happened for HOURS.  Fabulous.  I kind of feel like the Internet saw this post naked.  Because my writing is rough enough AFTER editing.  

Poor, violated blog entry.

Anyhoo...I'm about to go on vacation and really have nothing interesting to say.  So, instead, I'm going to give you another picture heavy post of Banner updates and happenings from the last week.  I know you are thrilled.

Banner faked being sick on Thursday, and had to stay home on Friday because of it.  At first I was worried he was coming down with the 24 bug Trevor had on Tuesday and Wednesday, but so far both the B-Man and I have both escaped that one.

Anyway, day care thought Banner had vomited Thursday at four, but I think he just didn't burp well enough after his 3:45 bottle.  But, of course, his school has a policy that a kiddo can't return to class until he has been vomit free for 24 hours.  Hence, Friday was spent playing hooky and chilling at home with his favorite sitter, Molly.   They went to the library and had all sorts of fun.  Banner may never want to go back to school again.

Banner LOVES to stand.  He can't quite pull up on his own, but - if you help him get on his feet and give him something to hold on to - he will show you that he can (sort of) do it on his own.  He is very proud of himself.

Banner is now in twelve to eighteen month clothing.  He actually has been wearing them for awhile, but I was in denial and refused to clean out his closet until Molly informed me that all of his nine month sleepers were too small.  Again, I KNEW this.  It was just that he was in nine month clothing for less than a month, and I wasn't ready to say goodbye to all the cute outfits!

The good news is that his twelve month+ clothes are adorable, too, and he is now ready for football season since all his Cowboy's onesies Trevor got him last fall were for a one year old.

Banner is also ready for size four diapers, but I am trying to get through the rest of the size threes before officially making the switch.  He is such a little weed.

School also wants us to start him on puffs and stage two solids, but - just like the diapers - I am committed to going through what he has already before buying anything new.  Poor Banner has a cheap mama!

His teachers also want him to start bringing a sippy cup to class when we get back from vacation.  Banner hasn't shown a lot of interest in holding his own bottle, so we haven't tried the sippy cup at home yet.  He just seems to be getting so big so fast.  I can't get over it.  It seems like only yesterday that he was the youngest in his class at school, but now that Kyle and Oliver are "graduating" to the toddler room, Brox and Banner will be the two oldest.

On Thursday night, I went crazy and drove Banner to Cedar Hill.  I just couldn't stand the idea of my baby being in my house while they aerial sprayed overhead for mosquitos.  So, we drove down there after having a bath and bottle Thursday evening about 8 PM, slept at my mom's and returned to Dallas the following morning at 7 in time for me to get to work by 9 AM.

Meanwhile, Trevor spent the night at home with the Awesome Pawsome.  He said he could hear the planes flying only 300 or 400 feet above our rooftop.

If it were just me, I'd probably have rode it out at home.  But now that I am a mom, I couldn't bare the thought of my baby breathing poison.  I just hope we are long gone by the time they start round two on Monday or Tuesday.  If not, back to Cedar Hill Banner and I will go.

The hardest thing about our trip to Colorado this year is that we had to make the difficult decision to fly and leave the Awesome Pawsome in Dallas.  Banner is really going to miss his doggie minions!

No need to worry about Gypsy, Alley and Haskell, though.  They are going to "camp" at our dog sitter's house in the country.  It is where they stayed when Trevor and I went on trips, like our honeymoon and Mexico a couple of years ago, and again when we had our house painted in the spring of 2011.  They LOVE it.  Lots of wide, open spaces for them to run, play and swim during the day, and at night they get to crash together in their very own bedroom in the house.  I am going to miss hiking with my favorite canine companions this summer, but I am just not psychologically ready to go on a 14 hour (one way) road trip with a seven month old.  Maybe next year I will be braver.