The De-evolution of a Spring Break Trip

Early February, 2011 - I scheduled Alan's 6 month appointment with the transplant clinic.  Intentionally made it for Greg's spring break.  Thought in the back of my mind we might do something fun.


Late February, Early March - We made up two potential itineraries and weighted the pros, cons, and costs of spending 1 night in a hotel vs 3 nights in our camper.  Decided the camper was the better of the two options and tentatively set our plans.


March 4 - The ten day forecast showed a 60% chance of rain for the Monday of our trip, and a 40% chance for that Tuesday.  Not good for the outdoor activities we had planned.


March 7 - The seven day forecast still had a 40% chance of rain for Monday, along with a cold front coming in that night, so chilly blustery temps were in store for Tuesday.  Still not good for the stuff we wanted to do outside.  We gave up on the idea of an overnight trip.


Late pm, March 10 - The rain for Monday had completely shifted to Sunday, and the temps for Monday & Tuesday were still on the cool side, but a little milder and warmer than originally predicted.  We decided maybe we could proceed with our 3 night outdoor fun in the big city plans.  And then remembered that the camper needed its registration renewed and that office was closed until Monday.  Ne-ver mind on the camping.  For real this time.


Weekend, March 11-13 - Even if the camping was out, there was still the fact that we would be spending the gas money to get to the big city on Monday anyway, and would have an entire afternoon free.  Or we could even go back to the hotel option and have Monday afternoon and Tuesday.  We spent all weekend searching online for fun places to eat, small museums to visit... anything we could do in an afternoon (and inside, since it still looked to cool to be out) and get our money's worth.


Mid-evening Sunday, March13 - We finally decided we were trying too hard to think up some fun.  We know that coming up this summer we have more definite plans for big trips and fun times.  Plus our boys are very easy to please and we'd like to keep it that way.  So we picked out a Burger King with a big indoor playground (germaphobes do not frequent fast food playgrounds, so this would be quite a treat) and a CiCi's pizza that were on our route.  We'd choose one of those at lunchtime and head on home after that.


Bedtime Sunday Night, March 13 - We realized we had spent all of our time and energy trying to schedule fun that we had not prepared for our 5:30am departure in just a few hours.  There were no clothes laid out, no breakfasts lined up, no medicine packed away.  Oops.  We set our alarms for 4:30 (the day after daylight savings time began, thankyouverymuch) and got ready for bed.  It was at that moment Greg pointed out: "Alan and I could just go, and leave the rest of you here.  We've done that before."  Revolutionary!  He was exactly right.


So although I did feel a little guilty sending them off alone, I have to admit I was relieved.  I got up at 4:45, got Alan dressed, and packed a breakfast for the road.  Off they went.  And I went back to bed.


So far, it has been exactly the right decision!

Tornadoes and Fractures, Part II

Just a second into the wailing, my ears and instincts told me this really was an injured cry and not a drama cry, so I hopped up to check it out.  My immediate fear was that Dale had fallen from his top bunk.


I found Dale in the floor, holding his arm and still crying.  I tried to calm him down and assess the situation.


I was able to gather he had been standing on the edge of Alan's bed, 14.5 inches from the floor (we measured), and had fallen and landed directly on his elbow.


He was holding his arm (and still crying more than not), but I was able to get him to bend it with some success.  I couldn't see any bumps or swelling, so I tried to help him calm down and continue getting ready for bed.


A few minutes later however, he cried out in pain as he bent his arm to put on his pjs.  And it was starting to swell.  


Greg was still away on his trip, so I called my parents and they agreed to come take a look.  As time went on and Dale's pain did not subside, we decided, yes, an ER visit was in order.


Mom and I loaded a very reluctant Dale into the van and off we went.  After finally getting an even more reluctant Dale out of the van at the hospital, he cheered up and braved up and become a model patient.  He answered questions, cooperated beautifully, and was an all around brave and good sport.

The xrays proved to be inconclusive, and because children's bones are tricky, the doctor wanted the radiologist's opinion the next morning.  In the meantime, he fixed Dale up with a temporary splint and a sling and sent us on our way.


By 11:00pm, Daddy had come home, Mimi and Gramps went back home, and we tucked Dale into Daddy's recliner for the night.


Wednesday morning the report from the radiologist was also inconclusive, and an appointment was scheduled for us at the Orthopedic Clinic for today (Thursday).


At the clinic this morning, the dr agreed the xrays did not show a clear fracture in the bone, but the tissue swelling visible on the xray and Dale's pain on examination were evidence enough of a fractured humerus.  


He was hooked up with a nifty cast in the color of his choice that he will wear for three weeks.  

I fully expected us to venture into the world of broken bones at some point.  I mean, really?  We have three boys.  Even so it is completely new territory for us.  Speaking of, do any of you have any helpful hints for bathing/showering and keeping a cast dry? I'm all ears!

Tornadoes and Elbow Fractures, Part I

Around 5:15 Tuesday evening, an F1 tornado went through a neighborhood on the north side of our small town (we live on the south side).
  
By 8:15 that same evening, I was sitting in the local ER with Dale and my Mom.  


These two events were unrelated, but made for an exciting - and exhausting - evening.


It all started around 4:00 when I did a routine radar check.  This is not unusual because I check the weather approximatively 47 times during a regular day and at least twice that when storms are expected.


As soon as the radar loaded my heart caught in my throat.  There was a tornado warning squarely over Greg's school.  I read the warning and the news got worse, as the path of the storm was predicted to pass directly over him.  They were supposed to be leaving for a field trip of sorts and I called immediately, hoping they were already well on their way, and out of harm's way.


But no, they were waiting it out at the school.  Our signal quickly broke and the call was dropped.


I sent out a couple of quick prayer request calls / texts and alternated between frantically checking the internet for any kind of updates, and quietly, tearfully, fervently praying.  


Finally, finally, I got the call from him that the storm has passed over without so much as a hailstone.  


Oh the relief, and the many prayers of thanks.


I had been so worried about Greg's safety that I had forgotten the most basic information about our local weather.  What passes through that area is usually on it's way straight to here.  (Greg's school is about 40 miles west of our house.)


My attention quickly turned to preparing our little crew for the still-vicious storm heading our way.  The funny thing is, as upset and emotional as I had been when the storm was over Greg, I was completely calm and rational while getting ready for it to hit us.


I have no idea what it would be like to have your home destroyed by a tornado, but I always pack a bag when we know one is coming.  Hopefully, if our hiding place is such that we survive, then the backpack does too.
The first thing we always grab is Alan's medicine.  It is not available locally, and he takes it twice a day.  


After that I pack our external hard drive with all of our pictures and other stuff on it.  Sometimes I throw in a small album of wedding pictures, since they aren't on the computer.


Next comes a phone charger, video and digital cameras, and the cables that go with them.  If I think about it I throw in an extra set of batteries and charger.  


I also pack each boy 1 extra pair of underwear and socks, tennis shoes (if they aren't wearing them) and 1 set of clothing.


We have time to do all this because of that checking the weather 122 times a day thing.  We usually have a pretty good idea when a serious storm is coming.


After the bag was packed and in the closet, I returned to vigilantly watching the radar and local warnings.


Decision time came.


It was the first time in my children's lifetime that I have ever actually had them get into the closet and shut the door, instead of just being ready to do so.


We were all calm about the whole thing.  Dale read a book.  Alan played between my sweaters.  Tyler sat quietly in my lap, undoubtedly wondering what in the world we were doing.  I called it a practice. 


And it turns out, I was right about it being practice.  Was it necessary to get in the closet yesterday?  


Well.... yes and no.  Everything at our house turned out just fine.  But just three miles north, an honest-to-goodness tornado touched down and ripped up trees, trailers, power poles, and aluminum buildings.


Again, we gave God thanks that the storm had passed over without harm.


Really?  I love storms.  I think they are exciting.  Until they are in my zip code.


After that, everything was topsy-turvy.  I had a splitting headache, and the boys were all hungry.


I got them fed and we spent some time trying to wind down from all the storm excitement.  All the while reports were rolling in about the damage done locally.  Our little bitty town was even mentioned on the Weather Channel!


Eventually I sent the boys off to get dressed for bed, while I sat trying to relax and rid myself of that tension headache.


It was at precisely this time I heard the thunk.  Followed by a second of silence.  Followed by wailing.


The second half of my evening had just begun....

And would you believe the whole thing was free?

As part of our current science unit on dinosaurs, the whole family headed out this weekend to see a genuine dino skeleton.


It just so happened that the day we picked out to go was the day the museum was hosting its annual dino festival.

An entire area of the museum was set up in activity stations with games, crafts, and other activities for kids.

Tyler's favorite was the area full of model dinosaur toys.  He had a fierce 'rahr' for each one.


Dale and Alan both got into the "Be-a-Paleontologist' area, chipping away at 'rocks' to find 'fossils'.  

Personally, I loved the safety goggles.  I could have taken pictures all day of that boy in his goggles.

But enough fun and games, we all wanted to see what we had come for: the dinosaur!

As far as I can remember, this was my first time seeing a full-size dinosaur skeleton, and it was amazing.


Awe-inspiring.

We kept circling and gaping, gazing and wondering at what amazing creatures they must have been.  Tyler even growled at it, just like he had with the toys.  We tried imagining what it would be like to encounter one covered in flesh and muscle, breathing, moving, looking.  And we might have shuddered a little bit at the thought.  

Without a doubt, we were in awe of God's incredible creativity.  I have to wonder, too, if He just wasn't having a little bit of fun when he made dinosaurs.

At any rate, we had fun celebrating them as part of His creation this weekend!

For any of you science/dinosaur buffs, the dinosaur we saw was a cast of a fossilized acrocanthosaurus skeleton found in southeast Oklahoma.

Walk, run, ride

As I have already mentioned a time or two, we are operating under a schedule again.

When I made this schedule, I put in a couple of dedicated "outside" times.  One of them even includes Tyler and me.  

As much as I think I love being outside, I often have to make myself go out.  Why?  I do not know.

This whole-gang outside time comes at 1:30 each day, and almost immediately came to equal Bicycle Time.

We don't let the boys ride their bikes in the street unless we are out to watch them (and even then I like to give them a pretty short leash).

So really, it has worked out well that there is a time each day that I make myself go outside too, because they get to ride bikes almost every day!

This morning I decided that instead of standing at the end of the driveway trying to keep Tyler herded out of the street, I would buckle him in his stroller and take off with the boys.

It worked out wonderfully!  That is, except for the fact that Alan is a lot faster than I had anticipated.  He can really scoot on the miniature bicycle with training wheels of his, and I ended up doing as much jogging as walking!

It would be nice to have pictures to share, but I didn't even think of taking the camera.  Not that I had time to take pictures moving along at those speeds!

(I searched through my files to find the old (2009!) pic of Dale above.)

I think once I get in the habit of going out every day I will be grateful outside time is a scheduled part of each day.  Especially now that the beautiful, mild days of SPRING are here!  Do you get outside much?  What do you like to do?

Runs in the family

This is my Mom's dog, Roxy:

Roxy is a fun little dog.  She's been around since the month before Dale was born and is just like part of the family.


You should know, though, to never give Roxy bread products: pizza crusts, cookies, biscuits, rolls, etc.  


If you do, you will find said bread products buried between your couch cushions, under your pillow, or among the folds of your throw blanket.


You never know when you might find a crusty surprise treat.  It's a funny little habit, really.  


Lately it has come to my attention that this boy:

must be related to this dog:

I base this conclusion on the fact that in two days' time I have found both a chunk of cinnamon roll and half a dinner roll in Alan's bed.


And Roxy hadn't even been here.


Let me check.... mmm-hmm, yep.  Definitely the next-most-likely culprit:

Let's just hope they never get their stashes mixed up!

Taking the bull (or the dirt devil) by the horns

One of my children has a long-standing terror of the vacuum cleaner.


I have seen his fear wax and wane, as he sometimes hides in tears when I vacuum , and other times good-naturedly watches from the safety of the sofa.


I once tried demonstrating that nothing bigger than the hose attachment could in no way get sucked up into the hose attachment.  And oh the hysteria when he thought I was going to suck the highchair right up that hose.


One day recently, when he was feeling particularly brave, his brother offered him a turn to use the vacuum and he accepted.  He has used the vacuum before, but it had been a long time, so I was a little surprised at the show of bravery.  Surprised or not, I was pleased to see it and went with it whole-heartedly.


So, my little brave one turned on the roaring machine and got to work.  Almost immediately I spotted the unraveled piece of yarn attached to the corner of the area rug.  Not wanting to frighten my fragile worker, I tried to move quickly, but not pounce.  


I should have moved a little more quickly.  


The vacuum grabbed that yarn and began to tug and pull and strain.  Again, not wanting to startle the skittish one I refrained from yelling "TURN IT OFF!!" and from frantically snatching the vacuum from his hands.  Instead I quickly and calmly as possible blindly felt for the switch to finally turn the machine off.


Already we could smell a hint of that burned-rubber smell of a belt worn through.  I turned the machine bottom side up and  began unwinding the now 18-inch piece of string from the brushes.  Once the vacuum had its bottom side exposed the burned rubber smell was strong and obvious.


After a minute or two I turned it on, just to see if we were lucky.  My fearful one backed away crying as the vacuum ran with an odd ka-thunk ka-thunk.


We parked the dreadful machine until daddy could take a look at it.  


When he did, he indeed found a ruined belt.  But even after it was replaced the ol' vacuum just couldn't rotate its brushes.  Which was no surprise or devastating loss; the thing had served us 9 years, through 4 houses and at least that many moves.


More than the damage to the vacuum, I regretted the damage to the timid boy who was using it when it met its death blows.


The dramatic increase in fear was obvious when I used a borrowed vacuum a few days later.


But things rarely stay the same right?


Last night Daddy brought home a shiny new vacuum.  While just the fearful one and I were home this morning, he wanted to take it out of its box and have a look.  


New stuff is always fun.  Even if it is a beastly vacuum.

All was well and good until packaging was cleared away and the beast vacuum stood alone, ready for use, and then the fear kicked in again.  In spite of the fact the thing wasn't even plugged in.


Still, the shiny newness and his brother's enthusiasm were contagious and when we finally did take our toy tool for a test drive he was there for every moment.


We even all took turns.  And I do mean all.


Later, after the vacuum was put away in the closet my once fearful one became a bit giddy.  He giggled and smiled and said, "I can't stop laughing!  I didn't like the old big vacuum, but I like the new red one!"


Is it really that simple?  Is the fear conquered for good?  Over?


I'm a bit skeptical it could go completely so quickly, but greatly encouraged at his recovered bravery.Even as I type, he and his brother have opened the closet to visit and admire the new red machine.


And yes, in case you're still wondering, it is Alan who has found a friend in our new vacuum.