Christmas in New Orleans

We braved the holiday insanity to meet up with Gillian and Addie's Nonni and Grandaddy and Auntie Kim and Uncle Joey in New Orleans for Christmas. Aside from getting to the airport a full two hours before the flight...and having to be corraled to random airport hallways because the line was so long...and being told I couldn't get through security after all that with 30 minutes left before the flight was to leave because the ticketing agent didn't give me a boarding pass for Addie (lap child)...and I literally had to run back to ticketing to beg the agent to help me (and her *almost* NOT giving me the boarding pass because we didn't bring proof of Addie's age), and running back just in time to join Sean and Gillian at the front of the security line, then sprinting to the gate....well, things were great besides that.

Suzi picked us up in New Orleans, and remarkably on this trip not a single suitcase or child seat went missing...though sadly, we left our portable DVD player on the plane. We immediately went to a great Po Boy place for lunch. The kids were totally jazzed to see their grandparents, and we were all thrilled to get some food. Then we headed for an absolutely beautiful house in the Garden District that Bill and Suzi rented for a few days so we could all stay together and get some truly quality time together (in lieu of separate hotel rooms). The house was meticulously renovated, and in beautiful condition. Even better, the owner has a child about Addie's age and it was completely stocked with a gorgeous crib, changing table, high chair, and lots of fun new toys :-)

There was even a swing on the porch for Addie!

The first order of business when we arrived was a nap for the girls. Addie protested some, but she had been up for 9 solid hours and it didn't take long until she gave up and went to bed. Gillian was harder-she was so excited to see the grandparents she could barely stand to sit still. I had to go lay down with her to get her to rest, and in spite of myself, I went to sleep too...it couldn't be helped...it was the most beautiful and bright master suite that had giant windows and the french doors open, and white carpet and crisp white sheets with a warm cozy duvet and a cool breeze from outside. I felt like I was in a Tide commercial. In fact, it was such a great nap that we woke up when it was dusk and we did it every day we were there. Suzi was smart to bring some toys for the girls, including a sweet little doll that belonged to Kim that had a dress that matched Gillian's Christmas dress, and she also brought a little tree that they had a blast decorating:



Friday was Christmas Eve, and we started the day with Cafe DuMonde because we could. Beignets and cafe au lait were in order. Addie approved!


Then Nonni and Grandaddy took the girls out for some duck feeding and a trip to the zoo. Sadly, the camera batteries didn't make it past the duck feeding. Sean and I got to lounge around, take a bath in our sunken marble tub, and then go out to Casamentos (awesome (and divey) New Orleans oyster bar).

Lunch

Addie and Grandaddy feeding the ducks

Enjoying the ability to REST, for the first time not squandering the opportunity, we all took another luxurious (2+ hours) nap before a truly beautiful Christmas mass at 4pm. After mass we headed to Adee's for the annual Christmas Eve Party. Gillian was a little intimidated by the number of wild second cousins running crazy around the house, but Addie was in her element. It was nice to catch up with everyone attending, and introduce Addie to the larger family. Of course, Santa made an appearance, and it was the first time Gillian willingly sat on his lap (Addie, not so much). Of course, Gillian saw all her cousins go first and get a great gift, so that might have fueled her willingness to comply. The giant vat of etouffe filled the house with unimaginable aromas and dinner was fantastic, as always.

Gillian with Santa

Adee and a few of her 35 Great-grandchildren

The Family

Addie with her great-aunt Adelaide and Great-Grandmother Adelaide (3rd generation Addie (Gaudreau) Glasser-Sean's gorgeous cousin-not pictured)

This year, I chose to not be a stick in the mud and do the whole Christmas thing-completely. We looked for Rudolph's blinking red nose in the sky and when we saw it on the way into the house, Gillian was convinced we should all urgently go to bed because Santa wouldn't come if we were awake. So we hurriedly put out cookies and milk and she didn't even want books or a snuggle she was in such a hurry to go to bed. So, to bed she went. We had to tell her Santa was leaving the monster gift at our house in Chicago (because he knew it was too big for the airplane) so the Disney Princess Palace had to wait. The kids were wiped out anyway, so it wasn't nearly as hard as I expected getting them to bed.

Christmas morning was just magical and so much fun, and it was great to spend it all together. The girls got some quality time with Auntie Kim and Uncle Joey, and it was fun to just mill around and get ready leisurely for visiting Adee. The girls had their dresses from last year, which because they are both so tiny, they can still fit in, so they wore them for Christmas.

We went to Adee's and Addie fell asleep as we arrived, but was pretty jazzed once we got there. It was a more intimate lunch with Adee, and Suzi's sister Lisette, and it was really nice (Turkey Florentine, apple crisp, and salad). We then headed to Bill's sister and brother-in-law's house and it was mayhem. Sean's three cousins (Gordon, Jim, and Brian) were there with Gordon's wife Marcy and son Connor (11 months). The O'Learys know how to party and the party was underway. They didn't even hear the door things were so loud! But we had fun letting Gillian see them again and get to know them a little better (they had never met Addie). We headed back to the house for-you guessed it-a nap (at least for the kids and I; Kim, Joey and Sean went back to the O'Learys'!), and woke up just in time for some delicious grilling, compliments of Bill. After dinner Addie entertained us with some choreography. It was amazing how she did the same movement at the same part of the song over and over again...we almost killed ourselves laughing, too.

People drinking wine and entertained by dancing baby (wouldn't be the first time, right?)

Sunday came too fast and we headed to the airport amid many reports that it would be an act of God to get to Chicago. It wasn't as stressful getting to our gate this time because our neighbor Darla scanned Addie's birth certificate and emailed it to me, and it's a smaller airport. We did have some delays, but a few hours is nothing compared to some families stuck on tarmacs or in airports for all of Sunday. We got home with two exhausted little girls and Darla picked us up from the airport. Unfortunately a Bear's game was letting out and the trip home took twice as long as normal, but we got home safe and sound.

It was a wonderful, but too short, trip. The house is the way for us to visit when we're outside of Jacksonville or Tallahassee. Bill and Suzi did so much to ensure everyone's comfort, and we truly appreciate everything they did! Once again we were reminded of the multitudes of ways we are blessed...family is the greatest of those.

Immaculate

All my life I have struggled with clutter. I have always had a hard time letting go of things-sentimental or utilitarian. Sean has always been frustrated by my inability to consolidate STUFF and the constant state of borderline messiness of our house. I would say, most of the time people would have considered it pretty clean, but even then there were piles of mail, or paperwork, or a tupperware of random junk (batteries, barrets, keys, pens) on a table (particularly the mail table). On shelves there were the intermittent misplaced item, like Gillian Tiny Things (she, like her mother, likes to hold on to things that really should be tossed) like pet rocks, single screw on earrings, the random wooden bead (who had drawn on eyes, nose, and mouth) and toy pieces. The back sunroom was a collection of boxes, a clutter disaster of a roll top desk (which we could at least close and hide the junk), piles of catalogues, books, envelopes, and an unused piano. Our bedside table undershelves were piled with books we weren't reading, magazines, papers, and random minutia. This past fall, I was stressed beyond belief and I felt like I was forever chasing my tail-taking time from the kids to make the place livable because I would wait too long to take care of things until the pile seemed smotheringly, overwhelmingly gargantuan.

Something happened to me when we renovated our living room. Such an elegant setting as our new shelves and fireplace needed to be showcased. Furthermore, if I was going to maintain my mental sanity now being the mother of TWO, I had to get control of the kid toys that just added to the muddle of it all. I was even more determined after our trip to New Orleans for vacation, during which time Nonni and Grandaddy rented a GORGEOUS (fully renovated) house (more to come on that trip in the next day or two), to get our place in order. Because the owner of that house had a child, and her place still looks great-not messy in the least. Elegant. That's what I wanted, I decided. I was on a mission. I came home, unable to wait to attack my unorganized disaster of a house.

The first order of business-take down the Christmas Tree. I know some people love to leave it up for a month, but if I was going to get the piano out of the back sunroom and begin to rework that room for use, I had to get it out of there. So, after the kids were in bed THE DAY WE GOT HOME FROM CHRISTMAS, the tree and every iota of Christmas stuff was put away, shlepped to the basement storage unit for next year. I wet scrubbed the floor where the tree was and wiped down the baseboards. We pulled the piano from the back and put it on the north wall of the living room. It looks beautiful perpendicular to the new shelves and fireplace, with a violin photo hung above it in a substantial bird's eye maple frame. We got a gorgeous new wool rug from our neighbor that is very traditional, and it replaced our $25 Menard's indoor outdoor rug. But now the art on the wall didn't match. So, down it went (we will be on the lookout for a more spartan replacement). As did the bookshelves in the living room and the CD rack. A much cleaner look was in order if we are going to declutter. I put up the bookshelves in the back sunroom along the wall where the piano was (firmly attached to the drywall so no little climbing monkeys get crushed under their weight). I put our severely reduced number of miscellaneous books that wouldn't fit on the living room shelves on the top two shelves of each stack, and reserved the rest for Gillian's games and toy bins. We took the big fuzzy green rug from her bedroom and put it in the back and put the cute Fairy rug Nonnie game her in her bedroom. We set up her massive Princess Palace on the back room rug, open to the bins for easy access. The desk got a complete overhaul, and there isn't even a book left on the top, and inside the roll top is clean and orderly. The CD rack lives back there too, completely dusted (and concealed) so Addie doesn't pull all the CDs off and throw them on the floor.

The front playroom got relieved of all Gillian's toys that have little pieces that we were forever picking up when Addie got ahold of them. We packed up all the toys Addie was tired of or didn't play with anymore and created a giant box of toys to be donated to the Salvation Army. The front playroom bins were sorted and simplified. The pile of board games and coloring books and papers, and polly pockets, and junk was downsized and moved to the back room, neatly stacked on shelves. Now the front playroom is clean and organized, and nothing has to be balanced on curtain rods to keep the babies from getting them (so many things were balanced up there that the rod support was bent-boxes of markers, cash register money and coins, puzzles, art supplies, etc. etc.). Now there is just a rod and curtains.

The living room looks great-no cluttered piles. The only art on the walls is simple and doesn't create to much visual madness when coupled with the carpet. The mail table is completely bare and has mail that sits there exactly until bedtime-when I go through and shred what is not needed and file what is needed and what needs to be followed up on. The kitchen no longer has the random toy on counters or the window sill. The kitchen table is devoid of anything at all. The cabinets have been purged of all expired canned or boxed items, or anything I bought on impulse that I will never use. This month I am trying Costco-we bought lots of meat and dry goods to see how far into them month we can go, and if it will help us save some cash. My grocery spending has been out of control, and we are trying to get a handle on that and pull in the reins, good and tight, as well. We are trying to eat out a whole lot less. An evaluation of spending at the end of the month will tell us how we did. The corner of the dining room-former home of random bags and boxes and more piles-is bare and clean. There is nothing on top of the buffet table save two candles on bases.

It doesn't stop there-I came to work and did the same thing in my office-I filed every pile on my desk and my office floor. Only one working file at a time is on my desk, which I got every speck of dust off of with wet wipes. I archived 8,000 emails (not even kind-of kidding), so even my sent and inboxes are decluttered of the extraneous.

I guess I had an epiphany. If I am going to be happy and healthy, my life has to be in order. If my life is going to be in order, I need my things to be in order. Sean has been trying to tell me this for going on 11 years of marriage. For the first time in my life, everything in my house has its place. I can't begin to express how awesome that feels. If I take care of things immediately, nothing piles up to take time away from the kids. I have discovered that if I use TV once a day-immediately after I get home- for a half an hour, I can get dinner done in peace and without tantrums, which usually arise because I have been away at work all day and they want my attention. We put the girls in the tub (in the room adjacent to the kitchen) while Sean cleans up, then I make my coffee for the next day, choose lunch and dinner items from the freezer for the next day, feed the fish, get the pajamas and diaper, get Gillian's icewater and Addie's bottle made, and then it's time to wash them. Sean is done by then and comes to collect one for drying and hairbrushing while I do the other one. Then Gillian gets one more 25 minute block of TV (usually Little Bear at the moment) while I put Addie down (books, snuggles, bottle-general 1 on 1 time). Then we both put Gillian down with books and snuggling and prayers.

I seriously can't remember feeling so light in my life. I'm not sure, but I think getting rid of clutter in my home in my visual field has reduced the clutter and frenzy in my mind. I have more patience, more free time, and Sean is happier too. Again, one of those "Better-Late-Than-Never" moments in my 36 years, but hey...I finally got here, right ?!?

Reflection

As I am wont to do, I am reflecting on life in general this New Year's Eve. A few intense lessons this year, to be sure.

I am thinking again about how every year brings changes-welcome, and not. I am thinking that sometimes unwelcome changes can force your growth in a way that is exceedingly painful...and all the wishes and affirmations you put forth into the universe echo back in some warped version of your vision of them. This was one of the hardest years of emotional growth for me in a long time. I had to learn to overcome a very difficult relationship with someone I see often without distancing myself physically...I had to learn that sometimes you just can't fix how you are perceived and you can't make it all better when the other person isn't interested in healing a relationship that is broken. I eventually realized that threats and ugliness from others sometimes are not a reflection of my flaws or shortcomings, but maybe are attributes that belong solely to them. I realized that I am quick to blame myself for cracks in the foundation of relationships, or the utter razing of them, and that I need to treat myself with some gentleness and grant myself the luxury of being blameless every now and then. The relationship is not fixed, but at least it is semi-civil. It will never be better. I had to let go of demons that haunted me for many long, miserable months; that affected my relationship with my family; that were all I could think about or talk about; I had to think about them and talk about them until I was so sick of them that I couldn't think or talk about them anymore. And it took away months of my life. I learned that I am so sensitive that my yearning to understand other people's motives affects my mental wellbeing if those explanations remain unresolved. And so, I worked through all this ad nauseum with my beloved therapist, who I saw for the last time in October after two enlightening, painful, and amazing years of self-study. And although I knew it intellectually, I realized and really internalized that other people's actions, ever seeming so intensely personal and hateful, are sometimes mirror images of their own agonies that I will never know or understand. And I realized that maybe those agonies are exacerbated by my very existence, through no fault of my own. And the saddest thing-that not everyone will like me, or will even pretend to be civil...this was my first taste of open loathing, and it was one of the hardest things I have ever had to manage. I had to work very hard to cultivate compassion and empathy for an enemy, like some sort of Buddhist enlightenment exercise. Someone I see daily. Someone I tried to get away from by applying for different jobs, but from which the universe provided no escape. Because God intended me to learn by pinning me, very uncomfortably, right where I am. I got to a place where I stopped taking it personally. And I started feeling sorry for someone so filled with bitterness. And I eventually got to the place where I decided if I leave, it will be because I want to, and not because someone forced me out.

Every year, parenting grows us as well, and I am now fully invested in parenting multiple children. I learned that sleep is precious and affects how I interact with my spouse and my girls, and that I have to be the one to compromise when it becomes clear that others can't. After three months of 4 hours or less of sleep at night due to multiple wakings from both kids, we had to tow the hard line with the older of the two. The baby still wakes up twice a night, even though she is nearly 18 months old. They are my joy, and my exhaustion. They are central to world and my identity. They are the manifestation of every dream I have, but I have come to the realization that I can't have everything I want while providing everything they need. I fully planned to go to school for nurse practice a year ago. I even applied to school and registered for classes. After an honest and open discussion with Sean about the needs of my family-particularly his and those of the girls-I had to put my dream on the backburner. This was the first time I have ever admitted that I just wouldn't be able to swing something I wanted to do. Too much was at stake for too many people for me to wear myself thin. So, my revised plan is to do school full time when I retire and when the kids are not babies anymore. Gillian will be 13 and Addie will be 10 when I am retirement eligible, and maybe then-when the house is paid for, and I have more time to be a full time student, and the kids are not so tender, maybe then is the time for being Superwoman. I guess I have never known what to do with myself when I'm not being Superwoman, but alas, I am growing up and starting to look at the world in a less egocentric way. Perhaps, at the ripe old age of 36, I am finally beginning to mature.

In a related subject, we took on my niece for the Fall semester. She lived with us from mid-August through mid-December. We talked about it a lot before offering to let her stay with us, but I don't think we really considered the many ways that adding an 18 year old to our household dynamic would affect us. All of us. She certainly needed structure in her life...at 12 she dropped out of school and her parents let her. That was because my brother had cancer from the time she was 4 years old, and in the looming threat of another tumor, her needs got lost under the bridge. They simply didn't have the mental energy to force her to go to school when she cried and resisted. They never thought to ask what exactly happened to make her cry and resist, and she and I never got there either. We brought her up here when she was 13 to try and show her an example of how you can live with steady employment and familial stability, but her parents wouldn't let her stay (we offered to keep her here, get her tutoring and therapy, and into a good school). I almost felt like her mother didn't want her to achieve, because it would take her away from them. Her mother has been under her grandmother's thumb her entire life, save a short stint in her own home with my brother when Amber was little, before Jim was diagnosed with brain cancer. Her mother was a 9th grade dropout, and it was decided for me the day she wouldn't get out of bed to take her to her financial aid appointment (at the college where, against all odds, she joined a GED program and got her GED 1 month before she would have graduated from high school). I have harped on education as a way out as long as I have known her, and it seemed like she was taking to that advice, but I didn't trust that she would get where she wants to go with her family being responsible for getting her to school and making appointments for admissions and financial aid. So, we offered for her to come up here-she needed 15 credit hours so she could join the Airforce or Army (which is exactly the right road for her)-so she could focus only on school and not have the negativity of her grandmother (who often told her her mother would "die if she ever left" or that she "would never make it in the military") or the ineptitude of her mother. She seemed happy to make the change, and we thought "win win! free date nights! we both benefit!". I wasn't prepared for how ingrained the deeper lack of motivation was for her. I don't blame her, but she grew up in a house where the only person with work ethic was her ailing father...then later her aunt (mother's sister). So, the early honeymoon period was marked with free date nights, and plans for her future and her excited examination of living in a big city for the first time in her life-where she was in control of getting herself places (her school was on the train line 10 minutes from here), and she was in complete control of how she came and went and how she did at school. Then the cracks started to show-the kids sleep schedules fell apart (we had moved them into the same room, and that was great for about 4 weeks)...and my niece started resisting going to class and we had little rifts where she would get pissed when I reminded her of the fact that her ONLY job while here was going to school...and she couldn't get a job and make her own money, which frustrated her beyond belief and stressed her out. Eventually she was babysitting quite a bit for all our friends, but even we felt like we had to pay her so she could earn money-nevermind the free room and board. And it became clear that common courtesy and appreciation were not things she had been taught-and that those were things we would have to teach her as well. In general, having anyone extra in our house affects our dynamic after about 4 days, and this was extended. Not because it was her fault, but just because she was external to our nucleus. And all the time I thought she would free up and the help she would give ended up being time I spent being her life coach, lecturing her, tutoring her, and cheerleading for her. I had to find time I didn't have for yet another person at the expense of my husband and children. And they resented me for it-the kids were clingy and needy for me, and Sean and I were bickering a lot more than usual. It wasn't my niece's fault at all-it just happened. And I believe that she learned a lot about structure living here. By the time she left, she wouldn't miss class for anything, and she had built some self-esteem around classwork that she never had before. And she decided that maybe she could do college after all. She grew a whole lot, and I hope she doesn't go away with anything but good thoughts about her experience here. I can say that our family dynamic is much better now, and although it was hard, I was glad I got to know someone as special, sweet, and motivated against all odds as my niece. I hope we will always keep some closeness and that we get a front row seat watching her become something spectacular.

My niece being here and the sleep disruptions that resulted from putting the kids in the same bedroom (and subsequently resulting in me sleeping with Gillian in mine and Sean's bed and Sean sleeping in the room with Addie in Gillian's twin bed) was me recognizing and eventually having Gillian diagnosed and treated for obstructive sleep apnea. She had her tonsils and adenoids removed in November (a stressful decision in itself) but I wish we had done it much sooner. Her behavior and general demeanor is so much improved she at times feels like a different child. I suppose never getting restorative sleep affects many aspects of a person's life, not the least of which is appetite. She is finally really eating-maybe for the first time in her life. And we are all back in our respective bedrooms and sleeping much better (except Addie, but that's a different post).

Sean is doing so well in his work, and my work life has evened out after all my turmoil, and we have had so many milestones this year for which I am truly grateful. The forced growth was something I hated, but it was a lesson I needed. I talked to someone I respect a lot about it, and I asked "what would you do in this situation?" and he said "I guess I just don't expect people to like me...". That wisdom finally sunk in after several months of neurotic overanalysis.

So, in all, I have blossomed some, we didn't end up buying that house (which I believe would have been a major mistake), the condo is finally renovated as we wanted, Gillian is sleeping and eating, Addie is pure innocence and beauty every day, Gillian started school, I realized some personal boundaries and limitations, and life is getting more stable and structured. It has been quite a year, and I know exactly how blessed I am to have family, friends, health, and faith.

Video Fix for Nonni and Grandaddy

I know it's only 6 days till we see you, but here's something to tide you over. Addie *loves* to read and **loves** animals. So, books about animals is just about as awesome as life gets for her:


And, just because it's sweet, here's Gillian's rendition of the story of Christmas:


And my Christmas cards have still not arrived. Commence grumbling....

My annoying Christmas card order

Because Kodak.com doesn't allow you to CALL customer service, I had to do a live chat when I saw my cards wouldn't SHIP until Dec 14-24th (completely useless):

Gilbert: Hi, my name is Gilbert D.. How may I help you?
Michelle: I am calling in reference to an order for Christmas cards. The free shipping option said they would ARRIVE in 3-10 days, however I got an email today that says they won't SHIP until Dec 14-24th. Obviously, too late for mailing. Can I change it to a same-day pickup or to expedited shipping?
Gilbert: Ok I will be glad to assist you with this.
Gilbert: May I please have your email address or Order ID number so I may look into this for you?
Michelle: [email address]
Michelle: I had no idea the free shipping would be so slow, or I wouldn't have bothered. I saw on my email confirmation that you offer same day local pickup, but didn't realize it was an option.
Gilbert: The KODAK Gallery processing system does not allow orders to be changed or cancelled once they have been placed.
Michelle: So, I spent $27 on cards that may not be able to mail before Christmas? Why don't you tell people this when they order?
Michelle: You aren't losing out on the payment if I pick it up from a local place...
Gilbert: Yes I understand but I am not able to cancel the order once it is placed.
Michelle: I'm not trying to cancel it, I'm trying to expedite the shipping. Can you ask a manager if we can do that?
Gilbert: We are not able to make modifications to the order.

GRRRRRRRRRRRRR. If you don't get a Christmas cards, I swear it's not (completely) my fault.

Gillian's Christmas List (in pictures)

This morning Gillian brought me a list of gifts she wants for Christmas. Mostly, she already has some version of most of them. I appreciate her making a list. In case we need one.
"Prickly thing you can wear on your head to pretend you're a porcupine"
Green mermaid tail. Since the pink and multi-colored ones are not sufficient...of course, green is the color of ARIEL's tail, so there's that...
A bike. When I reminded her she already had a bike, she said that she wanted one for a 5-year-old. I told her the one she had would be for a 5-year-old and even an older child if we took the training wheels off. Then she backpedaled, thinking of a clever way to still get a new bike and said she wanted a new bike for Addie. How altruistic she is.
A drum. You may recall that she has an entire drum set. But she says she wants a new one. That's not going to happen, by the way.

A Christmas Wreath. Just because.

Ditty

Surgery-Finally

I have been remiss because things around here have been almost mindblowingly busy. Like, "I-can't-keep-up" busy. I have wanted to write about how Gillian came to have surgery two days before Thanksgiving, and I think I primed the discussion in a previous post . Well, to pick up there, the sleep study was positive for obstructive sleep apnea (OSA), and it was apparently pretty severe. So, yay for Mama instincts, even if they were way behind the game. We met with the doctor to discuss the results and schedule her surgery. She had to have a pre-op physical (loads of fun, considering we had a ton of bloodwork and vaccinations before she could start school at her 4 year appt just two months before) at least 1 week before the surgery. So, in spite of the logistical stress we had to manage, we were able to get her in and get everything she needed to have the surgery on November 23rd, two days before Thanksgiving. You might say it was a little mean to have the surgery before Thanksgiving, but I would say something about how she doesn't ever eat anyway. Plus, I scheduled it that week because she would only miss 3 hours of school (they had a partial day Tuesday, and no school the rest of the week) and I would only have to take 1 day of annual leave because of the holiday and a trip to Ohio I had a comp day for. So, it was for the best.

They called me at the last minute Monday to tell me what time we needed to be at the hospital, and they said 6 am. I asked when the surgery was scheduled and they said 9 am. Of course, this idiocy prompted me to exclaim something to the effect of "my GOD woman, how am I supposed to entertain a 4 year old in a waiting room for THREE HOURS?!?" To which she explained I would have to sign some paperwork and get Gillian in her gown. To which I said "that takes all of 10 minutes, what shall I do with her the other 2 hours and 50 minutes?" Then she gave me the "I'm just the messenger" explanation that "this is the doctor's preference and his policy, but it probably wouldn't be a big deal if you got here around 7 am"...and I said, "are you telling me it's ok to come later? Would this keep us from getting her in?"...and she said "no, I'm not saying that at all, but you would probably be ok coming in at 7 am ...you could probably still get in". I could almost hear the winking. Like "yep-DUMB policy, but it is the policy nonetheless". Then she reminded me that Gillian could have nothing-no food or liquids-after midnight before the surgery (the idea of witholding even water from her was a terrifying thought for me because she loves to drink water).

So, I waited till I was showered and dressed (and full of water because I didn't dare drink or eat anything in front of her and deny her food and drink) in the morning and woke her up at the last second, got her dressed, all groggy, and into the car. I was armed with our portable DVD player and a brand new Little Mermaid DVD (thanks Nonni and Grandaddy!!!) to help pass the time and keep her mind off the fact that her throat was feeling like the Sahara Desert and she was starving to death. I have absolutely no idea how our forebearers managed without DVD players, but I, the Ugly American, digress.

We waited for about 40 minutes in the first waiting area before being corraled to the second where we had to get Gillian in her gown and get her weighed and get her blood pressure and oxygenation checked.

I asked to be present in the room during surgery, or at least during anesthesia, but the nurse was hesitant. She had me put on scrubs just in case I was allowed, though. After another hour and a half of waiting we were told it was time to go. So Gillian thought it was great fun to go on a ride on the "bed with wheels" and a man came and got her to take her down to surgery on an elevator.

At this point, he gave us both the little head coverings so we could go to the surgery floor, and I got this sick knot in my stomach, because PEOPLE DIE EVERY DAY FROM ANESTHESIA. And I had this flood of worry about my tiny baby being put under and how cruel it would be that after everything we (us and Gillian) had been through to get to this place, This FOURNESS, I would die if something happened to her. It might be irreparable heartbreak that would result in me immediately dying (kindof like the image I got in my head of how, according to my mom, Elvis, grieving over his loss of Priscilla, just keeled over and "died of a broken heart" (enter complete denial of that prescription drug problem)). That would be me if something happened to my baby.

They parked us in pre-op, and the anesthesiologist came to tell me, after I again demanded to go with Gillian while they put her under (I think I actually said, "No offense, but if something goes wrong, I don't want the last faces she sees in this world to be those of the strangers she is surrounded by in the operating room"), that "we usually don't allow family members in because they generally don't do well when they see a loved one go under...we saw many grown men hit the ground when their wives are put under for c-sections, so it is our policy not to allow it" (Now that I think about it, when I had Gillian Sean was not allowed in the room when I had my spinal...my doctor held my terrified hand). I held my ground, and he relented and told me if I did what he asked and asked no questions and left when I was told to I could go in. I agreed. Whatever it took. I decided at that point that I probably wouldn't do well watching the actual surgery because they force their mouths open, and by all accounts is a pretty bloody affair.

Then came the Jedi Mind Trick. The anesthesiologist asked Gillian "do you like strawberry?" and she was all sweet and innocent and eager and was like "yes, yes, YES!", so he brought her the oxygen mask that was pink and smelled like strawberries. He left it with us for 45 minutes or so so she could play with it and get familiar with it. He also asked if she liked pink balloons and she was all "YES YES YES"!!!!! Both of these seemingly innocent questions had a more insidious side, of course. So we waited and waited and waited. Gillian was a rock star and I pulled out all the stops to entertain her. Our 9 am surgery actually started after 10 am. Thank God we didn't get there until 7am. During this wait, lots of people came by top talk to her and ask her questions, and were impressed with how much she knew about what was going to happen to her. She knew they were going to make her go to sleep (not sure she knew how exactly, and she certainly didn't suspect the awesome strawberry mask and pink balloon), and then they were going to "open [her] mouth and go SNIP SNIP, and then SEW SEW it up, and then they would be all done, and then [she] would get as many popsicles and as much ice cream as [she] want[s]!!!". I had tried to prepare her the best I could so she wouldn't be scared, and she did absolutely amazingly. She was not scared at all, and everyone was great with her. I got weak knees when they finally said it was time. We wheeled her little bed into the very intimidating operating room, where 8 people were bustling around getting ready. They showed her her "warm PINK bed with a princess pillow" (translation: operating platform with pink heated sheets and circular head cushion), and she was afraid, and only wanted me to help her onto the bed and "tuck her in". The doctors showed her where the pink balloon was and now her pink mask was attached to a hose and the balloon. She only wanted me to hold the mask, the pink strawberry mask, to her face (at this point, it was clear that had I not been there, she would have been terrified and traumatized by the strangers forcing her do these things). They asked if she could blow up the balloon? And she blew it up and we all cheered. And then they turned on the gas, and she kept playing the game, blowing up the balloon. Except now she was being gassed (this is the point where I blinked back tears). Oh, how I felt terrible for that deception (and also glad I didn't stay to watch her get intubated so she could breathe in spite of the bleeding during the procedure and stuck with an IV). Her eyes started rolling back, and she clumsily kept trying to play the game that she probably couldn't quite remember, and then she was out. I was told to leave, and they said they would come get me and I would be there when she woke up. They told Gillian that too to soothe her. She verified it with me three times. And I always said "yep, I'll be RIGHT HERE".
So, it was the longest 45 minutes of my life (aside from the longest 7 days of my life when she had the staph infection in the NICU and was fighting for her life), and I prayed and I prayed and I prayed. And I waited. Finally the doctor came and told me everything went great and that I would be summoned shortly to go to recovery. Gillian would be observed for an hour or so while they monitor her vitals before being sent down to post-op for ice cream and IV removal. About 10 minutes later one of the other docs came and brought me to her. I walked into the room where about 10 people were resting post-op and heard her screaming. They didn't get me there in time. I wasn't at her bedside when she woke up like I promised. Like they promised ME. But my promises are more important, and I don't make them lightly. Four people were holding her down. In her confusion, she didn't know where she was or who she was surrounded by. I am still sad thinking about how alone and abandoned she felt. I ran to her and got in her face and told her I was here. She kept crying "where were you? you said you would be here!!". The doctor assured me she wouldn't remember I wasn't there. I corrected her, and told her she absolutely would remember-that she remembers EVERYTHING. She said statistically, 95% if patients don't remember the first 15 minutes of wakefulness after surgery. I told her MY CHILD would be among the 5% that do (and she absolutely does remember, by the way). Finally, she calmed down and they gave her some IV pain meds, and they brought me a big lounge chair to hold her on, and we navigated wires, and I was reminded of her godforsaken isolette in the NICU and navigating all those wires, and I had a moment. It even smelled the same.

My baby rested on my chest, just the same as before. I was so glad I was there, and so glad she was ok. Her tongue bothered her the most, it seemed. It was grotesquely swollen where the instrument that held her mouth wide open had been-it sliced her tongue. It looked awful. The nurse brought her a latex glove filled with ice chips to suck on. That and the narcotic took the edge off. After an hour, we went back up where we started for ice cream to see how she did with eating before they took the IV out. She was out of it and sleepy but she did fine.

We headed home 6 hours after we got there. I hadn't had any food or water all day, so I was ravenous and treated myself to donuts and coffee since Gillian was out cold in the back seat. I stopped and filled prescriptions for a steroid for swelling, an antibiotic to ward off infection, and Tylenol with codeine for pain. I took her home and she slept most of the afternoon. She woke up for ice cream and to watch a Disney princess movie and went back to bed (loathe to miss an opportunity to get things done, I was painting our newly installed fireplace and shelves like a madwoman during this time).

In the days that followed, we just kept her dosed with regular strength Tylenol and Motrin during the day and the Tylenol-codeine at night. I immediately noticed that she slept with her mouth shut, and I had to strain to hear her soft breathing. No more struggling for air. No more snoring. No more gasping for breath. No more nightmares. Immediately. The doctor said although her tonsils were enlarged, her adenoids were big enough to block her nasal passage, so we made the right decision to remove them both.

In retrospect, I can't help but feel like she lost some of her innocence that day. Every time the big world intrudes on her safe space it seems like it takes something away. I can't forget how she was almost excited about the whole thing, and what the reality was. Or how she was led to believe the mask and balloon were a game-fun. And I get this sick feeling that kids are victimized every day because of that innocence-that believing what we tell them because they aren't crafty enough to think we have ulterior motives. And I disappointed her and wasn't there when she needed me to be. Not my fault in any way, but I wish I had pushed the point that I wanted-NEEDED to be there when she woke up. At least now she has a story to tell. And we are proud of how brave she was and how little she has complained about the whole thing (drama queen that she is, that is amazing in itself). So, that is our story of how Gillian had her tonsils and adenoids removed.

Recharge

Last Friday night, Sean and I had an awesome Mega-Date. I booked a great hotel on Michigan Avenue for $115, made a reservation for dinner, bought Daniel Tosh tickets at the Chicago Theater, and bought two 90 minute “couples” hot stone massages for $55 each. The night went off without a hitch. We got to recharge in a very healthy way. We arrived at the hotel after a really delicious dinner, and I asked the guy at the desk “Do you think you could give us a room with windows? This is our first ever night away from the kids together”. I saw Sean grit his teeth at me and my sharing problem, but he was more than happy to enjoy the corner room suite upgrade we got as a result of me asking. Our view was a lovely one of the Magnificent Mile:

We went up to the room, and relaxed for a little while, and then an hour before the show, we took a scenic walk down Michigan Avenue and walked along the River (which prompted our usual "this-is-the-most-gorgeous-city-on-earth-and-we-wouldn't-want-to-live-anywhere-else" talk). Definitely romantic, and definitely needed.
We arrived at the show and found our seats, and got to admire the intricate and beautiful interior of the theater, grab a beer, and have a seat. We proceeded to laugh until we cried for Tosh’s entire set. He is the epitome of mean humor, but I love anyone that will go there, with anyone. No person or topic is off limits.
The show ended at 1 am (we are usually fast asleep by then) and we walked back to the room and crashed. The next morning we woke leisurely, walked out and got coffee, and chilled a little before heading off to our massage. It was Sean’s first (but definitely not last) professional massage, and it was great! It was in a couple’s room, all dim and zen and awesome smelling, and MY GOD I love hot stone massages! But I do know I will never pay the usual full price-$220 for a 90 minute one.

It is so easy to lose sight of your significant other when you have children. Especially if you have children and an 18 year old niece living with you in a 1600 sq ft condo. It’s hard to make the time for a drink out, or walks, or holding hands. It’s hard to do romantic dinners out. It’s hard to rationalize spending money on things that demand that. We ebb and flow with our staying on the wagon with a date night every week, but lately we have been bad about not getting out, even though we have said niece to help. We both know how vital it is to keep that alive, but it seems like most free time is kid time...

All that said, it is refreshing and awesome to remember that we really do have things in common, and that we love eachother, deeply. In spite of the sleep issues, and illnesses, and limit testing, and busy-ness. We love eachother. And we were away long enough to MISS our girls, so much. So we are reminded of how incredibly blessed we are to have been entrusted with them, and to have a strong partner to raise them with and build a life around.

Sleep and Not

Gillian has always been a snorer. Like, a slumbering bear kind of snorer. Which is pretty weird because she is so tiny. We figure she got it from her Grandaddy who is also a slumbering bear kind of sleeper. Not long after the girls moved into a room together, Gillian started waking up a lot. And this woke Addie up several times a night which equalled one completely exhausted mama (esp on work nights). So, we decided to let her fall asleep in our bed and move her. That worked for about 2 weeks, and then it started to wake Addie when we would move Gillian, which woke Gillian, which still=disaster and everyone awake. So, now Gillian sleeps with me in my bed, and Sean sleeps in Gillian's beautiful single bed (compliments of Nonni and Grandaddy) amid the fairies and flowers (he's secure enough to be ok with that!).

This arrangement has been going on for about 7 weeks now. And since it has been going on, I have had the opportunity to observe the way Gillian sleeps, and it has been enlightening. She is a fitful sleeper, she snores and mouth-breathes, and I can hear her stop and start breathing again. She literally sounds like she's trying to suck enough air to breathe through a straw, and the labored breathing stresses me out and has me in worry mode. In addition to that, she hasn't gained an ounce in a year, and we're stuck at 30 pounds soaking wet. She has been laying her head down at the dinner table because she's "so tired" and has had many meltdowns of late-all indications that she's not getting enough sleep. Recently, she started complaining of leg pain, which could also be associated with poor circulation. All of these things are classic signs of obstructive sleep apnea.

At her 4 year well child visit, the doctor noticed that Gillian had enlarged tonsils, but said if it wasn't bothering her to sleep we should just keep an eye on her. At the time, I hadn't put it together that she just wasn't sleeping well. I thought she was just waking up a lot and being a pain about it. Now I feel terrible because I didn't recognize that it was something potentially more serious. I took her to an ENT to have them assess her last Tuesday with the express aim to get a recommendation for a sleep study. The doctor put "special spray" in her nose (numbing) and stuck a camera down her nose to look at her adenoids. They were also enlarged. He said the tonsils were, on a scale from 1 to 4 (4 being so big they touch-who knew some people have tonsils so big they touch?), hers are a 3. Add big tonsils to big adenoids and it's no wonder she can't breathe well at night and snores. So, he ordered the sleep study. Remarkably, this was painless to schedule and is covered by insurance. I scheduled it for the Saturday following the ENT visit.

We were told to show up at 6:30 pm to get prepped. I talked up the whole thing to Gillian, about how we were going to have a date and stay someplace, just us. And that were going to try to see if we could figure out how to help her sleep better by putting little stickers all over her and seeing how she slept. We arrived, and out tech Chris was there to meet us. Pediatric patients show up a few hours before adults, and he said in a typical night there are usually 4 people there. The sleep diagnostic center was in the Resurrection Hospital complex, and the rooms resembled hotel rooms (except the surveillance camera pointed at the bed). It was warm and cheerful and had cute bugs and butterflies on the walls.

In the photo above, you can see the surveillance camera above the TV. There was a pretty sweet flat screen for Little Mermaid viewing, which made attaching her to all 27 wires muich easier. Seeing all the wires kind of brough me back to the NICU four years before, and it was really uncomfortable for me to see her like that...like some kind of parental PTSD. Luckily, she didn't seem to mind. Because she was spacing out watching Ariel and Melody (Ariel's daughter-Little Mermaid II is her favorite).

Chris hooking G up.

When all was done, we had 27 wires hooked up to this box, which we had to carry with us when she needed to pee at night. We told her the probes on her head (each a different color) would help her dream about extra colorful rainbows. In pediatric patients, there are 20 probes on their heads (apparently mini-seizures are common during sleep with children, and extra probes are needed to test for that). So, she had two probes on each leg. She had a belt around her abdomen and one around her chest (to monitor the synchronicity of chest vs. abdominal breathing, which can apparently be out of synch), she had a probe on her throat to measure snoring, a nasal cannula in her nose to measure nose breathing, and one sticking out from the nasal probe over her mouth the measure mouth breathing. They put the rest on her face (three on the chin) near her temples, and all over her head, which were attached with goopy water soluble paste and tape. The last one was an oxygen laser probe on her finger (to measure oxygen content in her blood). She was a sight, for sure. We brought stickers so that Gillian could "put some probes" on me so we could match. And she put some on Eloise (a bear Chris gave her when we first arrive, wearing-what else?-a pink shirt) and her baby Ariel doll.

Chris, the tech, said the sleep study can diagnose up to 600 different sleep disorders. He also said he played base in a speed metal band. I like him a lot. I like that he started by giving G a little bear with a pink shirt that Gillian named Eloise. I was thinking that his job would be great for a night owl. He said sleep studies are hard in kids (obviously-I would have a hard time sleeping with all those wires), but that the parent makes or breaks it. I wouldn't wish doing that on a child Addie's age on anyone. She would be ripping the probes out every other second.

I "slept" on the bed next to Gillian, and think she got about 7 hours of sleep, and I got about 4 or 5. Not ideal by any stretch.

Anyway, aside from a pause in the study after Chris had to wake Gillian to fix some equipment that had stopped reading (after this interruption, she was wired and had a hard time going back to sleep-FOR THREE HOURS), Gillian was an absolute rockstar. She totally earned that cheap, overpriced Ariel dress she had fixated on since seeing it at Target a few days before. He had to wake us up at 7:30, and then I got to try to wash the goop out of Gillian's hair (if any of you know Gillian, you know that she HATES washing her hair and getting water in her face and eyes, so washing it three times and scrubbing her scalp clean was like the third ring of hell for me). When she was all clean and clothed, we went out and got to look at the computer screen with all the readouts of her brain waves, and breathing, and snoring. They match up those patterns with the video surveillance to identify sleep stages and determine what is going on vs. what should be going on. It's very thorough, and as a scientist, I thought it was fascinating. Research indicates that kids who are diagnosed and subsequently have enlarged tonsils and adenoids removed have a marked improvement in sleep quality which leads to significantly improved behavior (sometimes reversing ADHD symptoms) and better daytime attentiveness, appetite, and general wellbeing.

We left the sleep center, went to Dunkin Donuts for some Munchkins (a G favorite), and then to Target to get her dress. She has worn it for three days. That and the wig...oh, WHY did I buy the wig (she has worn it daily and everywhere for going on two weeks)?

The test results will be available in 7-10 business days. Hopefully by next Wednesday. I am crossing my fingers that we get some answers, and that we can have her treated to help her get that vital sleep that affects every other aspect of her quality of life... as for me getting in the saddle with this whole thing-better late than never.