On Raising Four-Year-Old Kiddos

I don't blog often. But you probably already knew that. 

It's crazy really, because when I look back at my life the last four years, I feel like I was WAY more exhausted when they were babies than now. I remember once looking at my dining room table and not being able to see the bottom of it. The crap piled on top was at least two feet deep. Friends would come over and there would be an entire trash bag of dirty diapers in the living room waiting to be carried to the dumpster. Laundry would exist only in laundry baskets and only in it's most accessible form -- unfolded. 

Yet somehow, I blogged more often. I'm sure the newness of being a Mom was part of it and only working part-time was most of it, but the craziest part is they did practically nothing all day long. Oh look, she's sleeping! Oh! Oh! Is she opening an eye lid? Nope. She's definitely still sleeping. For hours on end. Now, they do more in a 10-minute span than they would do for an entire week as babies. Maybe that's part of it, too. Back then, there was much more watching and of course, now, there's so much more doing. 

I can't tell you how many times I've been "the mean pony" in our My Little Pony play schemes. Or the "Grandma" while they played house. Or read books again and again and again. Or showed them how to roll the play-doh just right so you can make a sweet snowman. 

I wouldn't trade a single minute of the doing. Even on the days they are bickering so much that I feel like banging my head on the wall. Even though it means I write much less often. 

I know someday I will look back and say what the heck happened during their preschool years -- years that I'm finding are so incredibly fun. When hanging out with Mom and Dad is the coolest part of their day and yet Claire can still tell me her "hypothesis" for why lizards can "camouflage" themselves. When our opinions can differ on how or why things happen, but in the end, Mom is still their go-to expert. When bedtime snuggles are demanded, but they can also quietly play on their own for stretches at a time. 

It's a very special time in their lives (what age isn't?) and although I'm not blogging nearly as much as I wish I were, just know that I'm doing a pretty terrific cackling pony right about now. 

Two Months, Two Minutes ... Go!

Wow, March 24. That was a long time ago. Especially in this jet-pack life we lead. 

Here's your two-minute update: 

Claire got her cast off at the four-week mark and was deemed healed. She didn't even need a walking cast. 

Later that same week, the girls had their first dance recital. Claire was still limping, but they both got on stage and did great!

Claire's eye surgery was also very successful. At the 6-week follow-up appointment, the doctor said she she is healing at an amazing rate and is very, very close to being within "normal" range. 

We celebrated my 32nd birthday, which was fantastic. There's no sarcasm with that -- I really feel lucky to be here another year making memories with Scott and the girls, growing wiser, having fun with my brothers and sisters and appreciating my parents more.

We had a great Easter, watching the girls experience the activities with a joy and innocence that only small children can. 

We all got summer haircuts, with the girls going from mid-back to just under their chin. I was nervous at first because I had it in my head that they needed to have long hair with their curls. Pshaw. That same night after bath time, as I was brushing their hair and no one was screaming, I vowed we'd never go back. Well, until I want to try again next year. 

We went on the our first field trip with the girls. They rode the bus, while we drove behind and met them at the park. They fished, played and ate snack. Days like this make us feel immensely lucky to have a flexible work environment. 

And now, we have finished another year at preschool. Next year will be their last one before the K-word. So brave talking about my 32nd birthday - less so when it comes to my babies.

Ok, maybe that was more than two minutes. 

Better To See You With

Last week Claire had eye surgery on both of her eyes. I didn't talk about it on here beforehand because I couldn't bring myself to. Since the moment we scheduled the appointment, I had been quietly panicking. 

Even though Claire's vision is fine, her eyes don't work together yet. When one is focused, the other is looking inward. We tried glasses first, but she is what the doctor called a non-responder. Basically, they weren't helping with the alignment and they were making her vision worse. 

I heard from just about everyone that the procedure was pretty routine and the doctor told me he had done thousands of these procedures. But I also read the literature that they force you to read and sign saying you've read all the risks. And let me tell you, it was frightening. I was terrified we were going to blind our child or worse. 

Every time the panic rose to the top, I would squish it and immediately think of something different. I did that multiple times a day for the few weeks before surgery. I have so much compassion for those parents who go through much, much worse. You are the bravest of the brave. 

I knew this was relatively minor as children's surgeries go, but they were still going to wheel her away from me, put her to sleep and cut into her eyes. An image I couldn't shake.

The night before the surgery I had a dream that Claire died while under anesthesia.  I woke up clutching my chest, trying to calm my breathing. 

The panic was rising. 

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Claire's entourage (Me, Scott, Grace, both sets of grandparents, Aunt Carrie & Uncle Nate) made the trip to Wichita the night before. We bowled (big thanks to our friends the Halls for loaning the wheelchair!) as a pre-surgery adventure. 

We ate dinner at Red Robin and went back to the hotel to crash. Well, at least the adults did. Grace refused to settle for the better part of an hour and Claire was right there with her for most of it. 

We woke up before the sun on Thursday and loaded up to head to the surgery center. Grace stayed at the hotel with my Dad and my sister. 

Claire did fine up until I reminded her that we wouldn't be able to go back with her to "fix her eyes." The nurses were good though and promised her she could help them blow up a balloon when she got back there. 

Waiting was terrible -- although made so much better by my mom and Scott's parents being there. We really couldn't be any luckier to have such caring, supportive parents. 

They called Scott and I back to debrief. The surgery went fine (huge sigh of relief). And a few minutes later, we went back to see her. The nurse told us that all kids are upset when they wake up, but that may have been the understatement of the year. 

She woke up screaming, and then switching between trying to scratch her eyes out and rip her IV out. It took three of us to hold her down and even then we weren't really all that successful. The nurse said I could sit on the bed and hold her. She calmed down after that, but was still upset that she couldn't see. Scott and I both had tears in our eyes watching her in so much pain. 

As we were leaving, the nurse called her a "spit-fire."  

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She's doing fine now and rarely complaining about her eyes. We go back at the end of April for a post-op and should know then how successful the surgery was. Let's all cross our fingers that she won't have to do another one. 

But either way, I know she's "Claire Tough." Especially when donuts are involved. 

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I can't say it enough times: HUGE, HUGE thank you to our family. From having fun the night before, to waiting with us during surgery, to entertaining Grace at the hotel, to helping us pack and unpack and driving back with one kid who couldn't see and one who required multiple potty stops (including twice on the side of the road) -- I feel immensely lucky to have you all in our lives. I know the girls feel the same way. 

Striking A Pose

It's been awhile since we have done an impromptu photo shoot. It started when I asked to snap a picture of Claire's "rainbow outfit." She picked out the pants and then insisted on finding a rainbow shirt to "match." And then the socks. It's a moment that needed recorded. 

And, of course, Grace wanted in on the action. 

After awhile they went and changed clothes and came down in this. It quickly got out of hand. 

This was, of course, pre-broken leg. 

And She Danced

We are just weeks away from the girls' first (but surely not last) dance recital. Claire is sitting things out for a few weeks, but we're hoping she will be back in the game at the beginning of April. Until then, check out this sneak peek we got from last week's class. We normally have to sit behind a curtain where we can hear everything, but can't see -- it's pure torture.  Claire took the sitting out pretty well. She made a friend with an older girl in the audience. But that wasn't super surprising. 

What Goes Up

Claire: Mommy, push me higher! 

Higher she went. 

Claire: Mommy, push me really high! 

Another big push. Giggles.

Claire: Higher! Higher!

Swoosh, one big (last) push. 

A gust of wind. 

Hair in the eyes. 

A split-second to brush it out. 

One hand gripping the chain as her eyes met mine. Shock and fear. For both of us. 

Seconds felt like minutes as she tumbled to the ground. As I watched her go head first to the ground, I hoped with every ounce that she just wouldn't land on her head. If anyone can hear me now, I thought, please don't let my baby land on her head. She flipped right before she made impact. 

A scream. Running. Falling to my knees. Holding her. Whispering to her that it would be okay. More screaming. This time, not from me. 

Hush little baby, don't say a word. Finally, just tears. 

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Yesterday, Claire fell out of the swing. At the apex of the swing, she took a hand off the chain to brush the hair out of her face and in that moment went flying out of the swing. She cried on and off for about seven hours yesterday. After trying once to stand and recoiling with pain, she refused to even try to put weight on it. 

I knew she was tired and hungry (possibly making the situation seem worse than it was) and there was no bruising or swelling at first, so I didn't rush to the emergency room. 

When she still couldn't stand on it this morning, we took her in. X-rays confirmed -- she has a slight fracture in both her tibia and fibula, right above her ankle. 

We started the morning with the pediatrician at 9:30, took X-rays and after lunch headed to the orthopedic folks. 

At about 4:30, we were finally headed home. With a full leg cast. Orange, of course. Because she loves Apple Jack (My Little Pony). 

When the doctor said we would need a full leg cast, I asked what was probably a stupid question "How will she get around?" My mind was quickly scanning the options. He hesitated a moment and said "Well, probably, mostly you." For three weeks. Then hopefully, we'll switch to a walking cast. 

The girls were the most upset that the doctor had to cut Claire's pant leg in order to put the cast on. Priorities, people.

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It has been an exhausting two days. And I have no expectations of feeling rested for at least the next three weeks. But as much as this really, really stinks for Claire and as much as it really stinks for Grace and as much as it will really stink for Scott and I, I mostly feel grateful. 

Grateful that the fracture is minor. Grateful that they didn't have to set the break. Grateful that next week is Spring Break and I was supposed to be mostly off work anyway. And so, very, very grateful that she flipped right before she landed.