I'm Dilated!

I never thought I'd say that again!

Yesterday the optometrist put drops in my eyes to dilate them so that he could do a test. He did it in the afternoon so that I could "sleep it off". When I got home my kids started laughing and telling me that I look like Puss in Boots from Shrek. My eyes are not actually that big but wearing my soda pop thick glasses makes them look so much worse.

Erika even begged me to put my hands up under my chin and pout. I did, they wanted a picture, I allowed it, took one look and deleted it. A picture close enough to show my eyes shows far to much of my wrinkles, age spots, blemishes, pimples, and the bags under my eyes, and I think there was a hint of grey in my roots.

This morning the sun seemed fluorescent and I could hardly keep my eyes open. I looked in the mirror and saw that I still have huge pupils. I could be mistaken for a druggie! I called to see how long this should take to wear off since I had been told that I would sleep it off. It could take up to 24 hours!

Erika in Wonderland

Erika spent a week in Washington with my sister Kate, her husband Mike and their two boys Korben and Logan.

Though I've heard of the many adventures that she had I have a hard time matching it all up with the pictures. I wish I could tell the story with as much enthusiasm and drama as Erika and Kate could but I can only give you a teaser (and hopefully link it to Kate's details after she posts it). The most fun stories included:

* a boy stalking her because she is so darn gorgeous and evidently there is a shortage of hotties in Washington (hey, Kate said it, not me)
* searching the haunted house for Kate's contact so that Erika wouldn't have to drive in Portland - they found it!!!

The Enchanted Forest in Oregon

Playing with the boys - lovin' em just like she does her baby brothers.

Hiking Multomah Falls with Kate

Visiting the Portland LDS Temple

And her new love: the ocean

Somewhere in here they also visited a war reenactment, a super long bridge and a shipwreck. It's always fun to hang out with the Harrisons!

And it wouldn't be an Erika post without a few silly faces, "rock on" signs and an occasional tongue shot.

Sew Crazy

About 4 weeks ago I was sitting on the couch watching Kellie cross-stitch. I felt a little twinge of "I need a project" and I happened to say it out loud. While Kellie was out shopping she found me a project, one that I had been eyeing at the local craft store, so I was excited to get started.

What was going to be a simple project for me, and a nice scripture bag for Kellie, turned into 11 bags, 6 of which brought in a $200 donation to the family missionary fund at our family reunion auction last weekend. That $10 pattern and $40 worth of fabric had quite a return!

Oh, and I got a new sewing machine out of this project as well. My old one (which really was only 9 years old) was a piece of junk. I was getting so frustrated with it breaking the thread and skipping stitches and the worst was the annoying sound it would make. It sounded like it was repeating over and over "I'm mad, I'm mad, I'm mad" as I would sew and it bounced around so bad that it seemed to be trying to run away. As I was sewing at the table next to LeRoy, the thing threw the whole needle part at me. Not just the needle, the whole needle part. It broke off and was thrown in my lap. The grumpy thing was throwing a temper tantrum.

We couldn't figure out how to fix it and LeRoy had seen me getting more and more frustrated as I worked so he called a place in Idaho Falls, we made a trip, they took a trade in (ha!) and I came home with a new sewing machine. Though it is a top brand machine it is at the bottom of the sewing totem pole but still, oh, sew nice for me! It hums as it sews and sits calmly in place not rejecting its calling in life at all. I am shocked at how fast a project can come together when you don't have to rethread the bugger every 4 inches!

Had I been stuck using the old machine this post could have been about 1 bag. Instead I can't quit . . . you'll see.

I am terrible at reading sewing instructions, even the ones with diagrams, because I need to see it hands on. That's how I was taught. I decided to do a practice bag using flannel scraps that I had from my pajama making days and I came up with these 2 bags.

It was very helpful to do a cost-free, guilt-free-if-I-mess-it-up practice run so that I could learn how to do the outside pockets, inside pockets, handles and lining - none of which had I done before. Kellie's daughter Andie gets the lady bug one and the green and pink one was sold at the auction for $25.

After a grueling decision process in the fabric department (choosing the fabric is the part that I DON"T like about sewing), purchasing 8 fat quarters, 2 yards of fabric, and 3 yards of pelon, I managed to come up with these:

I followed the exact pattern with these, even down to color choice and fabrics.

I still had so much fabric left that I decided to do 2 big ones just to use up the fabric. They turned out nice but I was realizing that I don't really like patchwork for a bag. My personality wants something a little more simple. Still, they were practical, useful, new and fun to put together.

With the final scraps from the material that I had purchased I created my own designs. These were my favorite so far:

When I was taking pictures of them to send to Kellie so that she could choose the one that was to be hers (since she bought the pattern and gave me the project), I realized that I had pieced together enough squares to make a small quilt:

Three days worth of sewing (and I still managed to feed my family, go to a jewelry making party, take kids to the dentist and keep the house somewhat tidy) and this is what I had to show for all the thread and corner scraps scattered all over the floor:

While I was cutting all the fabric Nathan kept trying to take off with Andie's bag and asking when I was going to make him one. I explained that these were bags for girls, to which he stated matter-of-factly: "then make me a boy bag". I couldn't resist.

I took some of the blue pajama flannel scraps and made him a bag. He packed it around for 3 days straight and now uses it to grocery shop with our pretend food in our pretend kitchen.

By the time I had the 7 bags made from the fabric that I bought, I was actually kind of tired of looking at it and couldn't decided if I really even liked the bags. I decided to try one out during a quick trip to Idaho Falls. I got 2 compliments on the bag so I figured it must not be too bad. Somewhere in that trip I decided to do a bag with my own idea, not the pieced look, and with a neutral colors: black and white.

I have my favorite of these 3 also but overall I like them better than the colored bags. However, it seems that I will be doing more bags with a variety of colors: Erika wants one with red/black/white and one with multi-colored fabric, Caytlyn wants orange, (they want the large bags so that they can use them for school).

All of this because I thought out loud. Thanks for the project Kellie, I've had fun!

Word Association

Sometime last May:

Nathan: Where's Daddy?
Mom: He's still in Montana.
Nathan (with a quizical look on his face): Hannah Montana?


Sometime this week:

Nathan: Where's Daddy?
Mom: He's in Indiana.
Nathan (with eyes wide open in amazed wonder): Indiana Jones?

Momma's Boys

I was up until 12:30 am watching Anne of Green Gables with Levi (age 17), Derek (age 13) and Justin (age 10). How many boys, especially teenage boys, would do that with their mom? It was Levi's idea to start the show around 9 pm and we couldn't quit. They even whined when I sent them to bed. I think it is the only time that whining has ever made me smile.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Most kids are in trouble when they hear their full name. Not mine. LeRoy started this game with the kids when each of them were about 2 or 3. He hollers out their full name and when they timidly respond he says lovingly but firmly, "I Love You!". They would always catch on fast and as soon as LeRoy would call out their full names they would quickly blurt out, "I love you" before their dad could. (Unfortunately, when I call out their full names they are most likely in trouble).

The most recent child to pick up the game is Nathan. I frequently hear, "Nathan Darden Edwards, I love you" followed by hugs and giggles.

The other day Nathan came marching into the kitchen, put both hands on his hips, tilted his head in what I thought was disgust and said firmly "Mommy Darden Edwards, I Love You!".

Shopping at Target

Or Shooting at Target. I'll take a shot!

After a 4 hour trip to Utah with a 1 year old strapped in his car seat, I was not really looking forward to school clothes shopping with Erika. The time with Erika is great, I just hate shopping. I was pleasantly surprised when she was able to get most of her shopping done in 1 store (Plato's Closet - awesome!) and, before that, even more delightedly shocked when she suggested going to a 2nd hand clothing store (that only carries name brand stuff) to do her shopping. What has happened to this girl? (The short of it is that Erika and I are saving to go to England so she is suddenly thrifty and focused on saving. . again, who is this girl??)

We were ending a successful shopping spree in good spirits, though Hyrum was nearing the very end of his patience, as we headed to Target to find some cheap underclothing for Erika (luckily she isn't into the expensive Victoria stuff, Hanes will do). While Erika was strolling around bras I carted Hyrum through children's clothing, boys clothing, shoes, housewares, anywhere to avoid bras. I hate shopping and I hate shopping for bras even more.

In my meandering I found 3 shirts that I thought I might try on for myself. At this point Erika was in a dressing room so I attempted to go to the wheelchair accessible dressing room to try on the shirts (and let me mention that I have taken a cart into this exact same dressing room before, so it never crossed my mind that I needed permission). A skinny, cutesy, 17ish girl in a flashy red Target vest stops my cart with her hand and in a very authoritative tone tells me that I can't take the cart back there. Huh? My baby is strapped in, I just want to try on 3 shirts. "I'm sorry, it's a fire hazard. You can't take the cart back there."

What crossed my mind to say was:

"If there is a fire in the next 5 minutes and it spreads so fast that I can't get myself out of the dressing room, I release you of any responsibility for me and my child."

OR

"You would rather have my 1 year old climbing underneath the walls of all the dressing rooms, eyeing up naked women?"


OR

"Have you ever attempted to try on clothes with a loose 1 year old in the dressing room with you?"

Instead, my tired body language spoke for me: "Fine, whatever" (with an obvious teenage exhale of air and a not so discreet roll of the eyes). I strolled off, ready to put the shirts back, knowing that I probably wouldn't like them anyway. Instead of putting them back I picked up a couple more shirts while wandering around the women's department next to the dressing room while waiting for Erika.

When Erika returned, I left the cart and baby with her and I once again walked over to the dressing room.

"How many do you have?" the teen asked me.

"Eight."

"You'll have to leave 2 of them here, you can only take six in."

With a firmly set jaw I set down 2 shirts, biting my tongue to stop all of the sarcasm that was ready to spew from my mouth.

I tried on the shirts. It was a stark reminder of why I don't clothes shop for this body at Target. Since when did gauze replace real fabric? I looked like a muffin top stuffed into one thin sheet of Phyllo dough. It was anything but attractive and my self esteem was taking a huge hit looking at my torso suffocating in an "extra large". I'd rather shop the stores that size a little bigger, use fabric thick enough to disguise the previously mentioned muffin top and that let me take more than 6 items into a dressing room.

As I walked out of the dressing room the just-following-the-rules-and-doing-my-job clerk asked "do you want to try on the others?". Not trusting what might come out of my mouth, I shook my head and walked away.

Then I met up with Erika, who had found seven more bras to try on. I sarcastically said, "you'll have to put one back. You can only take six in with you". I told Erika the whole story, to which she marched off toward the dressing room. I couldn't help grinning as she walked away. I knew that I needed to keep my mouth shut to avoid any kind of verbal abuse by a customer to an employee but I let Erika have at it. That to me is just teen warfare and I wasn't in the mood to give any lecture on respect for employees or rules.

"You can only take six of them in with you."

"Would you like me to come out naked to get the other one?"

Pause, stare, glare at the sassy teen before her: "N. . no, but you have to leave it here."

Cheerfully, with a mischievous grin, Erika walked to the dressing room. A few minutes later a spunky Erika came walking toward the clerk with her undershirt on and in all her perky, bouncy glory asked for the other bra.

Score one for the Edwards girls.

I look back on it knowing that I wasn't the best example (ok, no example at all) of patience, charity or respect. Oh well, the power hungry clerk went home with just as good (or bad) of a story to tell as we did. Her version would include the snooty customer with the snot nosed baby and her daughter with total lack of modesty manners (but a really cute body - which she is totally jealous of).

Justin's Summer Break(s)

A photo journey through Justin's past 4 weeks:

In the hospital he had such a great drug induced sleep that he will never remember it. With a bone to reset and 3 breaks to cast for healing, Justin's summer became an adventure full of new experiences.

We had planned to go with the cousins to Egin Lake and Justin was insistent that we still go. He did not complain once, even though he had to hold his arm up out of the water the entire time. It must have been so sweaty wrapped up in the saran wrap (our MacGyver attempt to keep it somewhat dry).

The park was not quite as much fun as the lake. Though he didn't have to worry about getting his cast wet, he found that it is very awkward to climb with one arm. Still, no complaining but we did get a little pout every now and then.

Having his arm wrapped didn't seem to slow him down much while camping either. He still played with the fire like he always does, ran around in the woods like he belonged there and managed to get just as dirty as ever before. I was glad that the camping came before his new cast simply because of the camp fire smell and mountain dirt that soaked into his old cast. When the doctor cut the first cast off he was teasing Justin about how bad it smelled and how dirty it was. As he pulled it apart to take it off dirt fell onto the floor and his arm showed not only a new tan line but a new dirt line.

And finally, his new pink cast. The doctor questioned him 3 times to make sure that he really wanted to have a pink one and Justin was quite sure. His dad was a little disgusted with his color choice but he was good to set his opinion aside to be the first one to sign Justin's cast. Justin has found that he likes the shorter cast better because he can do more but that it is a little more painful to have movement from his elbow. The smaller cast does give him better use of his fingers so now he can write with his right hand but it still looks as scratchy as when he used his left hand. Luckily he will have it off when school starts. During Webelos scout camp he got a piece of wood stuck in the cast and that evening he spent about an hour digging down inside of it with a butter knife to get it out.

Other than not being able to do any gymnastics (he has figured out how to do rolls across the floor with his arm sticking out, but that's just goofing off, not really gymnastics) or to go swimming, he has continued to do most everything that he did before. His new skills include left-handed eating, writing and computer mouse-ing as well as one-handedly managing to put on his own shirt, fill the dishwasher and fold clothes.

At the appointment last week they x-rayed his wrist again. The doctor was so impressed with how quick it is healing that he is going to let him get his cast off on August 6th. That totally made Justin's day. Because of the way the breaks were and how it had cracked into the growth plate, and because of how active he is, the doctor initially told us that Justin would wear the cast longer. I guess the herbs, paired with all of the prayers in his behalf, are doing a great job for a speedy recovery.

The Details:

On June 24th at around 5:30 pm I received a call while driving home. It was Derek, in a panicked voice, telling me that Justin had fallen out of a tree and they (the mother next door) thought that Justin had a broken or dislocated shoulder. I pulled into the neighbor's driveway about 2 minutes later to find Justin laying on the grass under a tree. When I knelt down next to him I saw his big blue eyes full of pain and tears and a little bit of shock. Once we got him to sit up I could see that his shoulder was pitched forward and his elbow was sticking out behind him, at least from what I could see with a sling on. (I didn't give it much thought at the time but once we were with the doctor and saw the severity of the breaks I was very grateful to my neighbor for putting his arm in a sling to keep it stationary.)

In a matter of minutes I dropped off the two little boys with Derek and Erika and we were on our way to Community Care. Justin was very brave but I could also see that he was trying to tough it out and hide his pain, even through the few sobs and tears that came.

When we got situated with the doctor he removed the sling and Justin's hand fell, literally. It looked like there was nothing connecting the hand to the arm. Four x-rays later we found that he had 3 breaks in his wrist, one of which was through the growth plate, and one of the bones was sticking out under the growth plate, protruding slightly into his skin. The doctor quickly but gently wrapped it up, gave him a pain killer and referred us to a neurosurgeon. His shoulder was fine, it had just looked different because he had been holding it weird to compensate for his wrist. They also took an x-ray of his thigh because he was limping so bad but nothing was broken, thankfully. It was sore enough from landing so hard that he limped for about a week.

That first night was so hard on him. He was nauseated from the pain meds, which still left him in pain, and he couldn't find a good position to sleep in. After a very sleepless night and a day spent sitting as still as possible because every movement seemed to hurt him we met with the neurosurgeon (appointment set later in the day to allow some of the swelling to go down). Once the doctor looked at the x-rays and we discussed the options he called up to the hospital to arrange for an IV with Demerol and Vicodin so that he could reset and cast Justin's wrist.

Watching the doctor reset his bone was interesting. They first gave him an IV which he didn't even flinch at, probably because he had so much pain elsewhere. Once the drugs started to kick in he peacefully went to sleep. The nurse lifted his eyelids and shined a little light in them, no response whatsoever. They moved his arm around a bit and still no response. Then they began to unwrap his arm and Justin moaned a little bit. The doctor was holding his arm up at the elbow and the nurse had ahold of his fingers. When the doctor let go of his arm it was dangling with by the fingers with the nurse holding it up. Then the doctor took his wrist and started to move the bone back into place. Justin immediately sat straight up with his eyes wide open and screamed, throwing his head back and forth. It was a little disturbing because I could tell that he wasn't awake at all but his body was still responding to the pain. It only took a couple of minutes and they were finished. Justin has no memory of it at all, which was part of what the doctor was trying to accomplish.

As Justin was slowly coming out of his induced sleep stretched his eyelids up and said "can I just sleep here tonight, it feels so good". I told the nurse we could wait until he woke up completely on his own before leaving. After the awful night he had had before I wanted him to get as much sleep as possible. They did eventually kick us out (really it was only 2 hours) but Justin was still very groggy as they moved him to a wheelchair, wheeled him out and put him in the Yukon. He did walk into the house but not without assistance, and he zonked out on the couch until the next afternoon, a good 48 hours of sleep. He even slept through Hyrum and Nathan poking at his face and a handful of friends that showed up to give him cards.

It took a couple of days before we saw our Justin emerge from the pain, drug and shock induced silence that he was hiding in. It was odd to have him sit so still and quiet and it had me worried that more was wrong than just the broken wrist. I've spent years trying to get Justin to quiet down and when it happened it didn't seem natural. Now that he is back to his talkative, noisier than necessary self I know he is going to be fine. As soon as his cast is off he will probably climb the same tree.

To Flea or Not To Flea

For the past 4 weeks LeRoy has been freaking out at these miniscule gnat like creatures jumping around in our bathroom. Though he usually only saw 1 or 2 at a time in the tub when he would shower in the evenings, he was acting like we were having an full blown arachnid infestation and was insisting that they were fleas. I didn't see anything for the first 3 weeks but when I finally did see them there were several. Wondering if LeRoy was right on his flea theory I decided to research them (having never dealt with fleas in the past).

What I read was not in any way encouraging. There were several similarities between our unknown specimen and the pictures/descriptions that I was finding online. (I'll save the detailed descriptions or pictures of what I found in hopes that my readers will not itch for days having the thought of fleas stuck in their heads.) Even though there were similarities, there were major discrepancies. We do not have any itching, scratching or rashes on any of us or on the cat. If anyone would suffer from this it would be Justin because the cat has chosen his bed for a daily napping place, or Hyrum because he is constantly laying on the cat and playing on the floor. We also have not seen these things anywhere but in our master bathroom. Though the situation had my attention I wasn't worried about it.

Unfortunately, the cat was taking the brunt of LeRoy's frustrations and was banned from the house. As LeRoy's anxiety continued to grow at my lack of concern I figured that I was next so before LeRoy decided to ban me from the house I had to find out what these little buggers were. I set up a light trap in the bathroom with a shadeless lamp sitting on it's side to attract the tiny gnats to one spot on the bathroom floor. When I had a sufficient number of them in my sights I quickly but gently snatched them all up with packing tape, added another piece of tape to the sticky side and created my own microscope slide.

Then I called to make an appointment with the vet to rule out fleas. When I explained our situation over the phone the receptionist told me that we don't have fleas in this area (it's to cold evidently). Even after talking about it, I set the appointment. LeRoy wouldn't settle with a receptionists opinion (or knowledge).

On the morning of the vet appointment I realized that I didn't have my Yukon and the two trucks were not available. My last options were Levi's '76 Thunderbird (translation: low riding, lucky if it starts, barely able to see over the front of the 10' hood, teenager car) or the bike. I didn't really want to bike the cat the 4 miles into town so I sucked up my pride and climbed (down) into the T-bird, cat in hand.

Normally the cat doesn't mind traveling. We've taken him into town occasionally because he will climb into the Yukon while I'm putting the kids in and he did great on the trip from Utah. Actually, he seems to match his purring with the hum of the engine and just relaxes for the ride. I didn't think this trip would be any different. Then I started the T-bird. The low guttural growl of the 33 year old engine did NOT calm the cat in any way. As a matter of fact, he started yowling a mean string of angry noises at me and darting from window to window as if he were trying to escape. I was already late for the appointment so ignored most of it, though at one point I was a little afraid I would lose my ear in the jaws of an angry feline as he stood next to my shoulder. We were so close to getting there, only a block away, when, with fur flying all over, the cat suddenly started to sway back and forth, dropped his jaw and started panting like a dog. I've never seen anything like it! I thought he was going to pass out.

By the time we entered the vet clinic my 13 pound chill-about-everything furball was in a shedding, panting frenzy. The clerk just laughed when she saw him. From sharing the experience I learned that when a cat is extremely anxious they tend to act like a porcupine. They practically push out their fur, which explains the floating cat hair all over the car. And he was hyperventilating, which is why he started panting like a dog.

But this is not a cat post. It is about fleas.

Once we got the cat calmed down the vet started to inspect him for fleas. He could find nothing. Not even dirt. He said he is one of the cleanest cats he has ever seen. I guess cats in this area usually have dry scalp under all that fur due to the dry heat and temperature fluctuations but Harrison has a smooth, glossy, healthy scalp.

Again: flea post, not cat.

The vet was still intrigued at my story (and laughing at the fact that my husband, the tough guy electrician, is scared of a pin head size jumping gnat) so he asked if I had caught any of the bugs.

DUH! I forgot to grab my tape sample as I ran out the door with my hefty cat in tow. At the vet's suggestion (and curiosity) I left Harrison to get his shot (normal feline immunizations) and to rest in a kennel before the stressful ride back home.

I on the other hand, had to endure yet another ride on the now hair covered, low riding, teen mobile getting strange looks from neighbors who must have been wondering what I was doing joy riding in Levi's car.

Once I returned and handed over my homemade slides (at which the vet was impressed with since I didn't "squish" any of my specimen) we were able to look in the microscope and determine what the mysterious creatures were.

Not Fleas!!! That was great to hear. The crazy person that I am, I enjoyed comparing the magnified pictures with the current pest book that the doctor had and the best we could determine was that it is some kind of gnat, probably a grass or sand gnat. I almost laughed out loud when the vet said seriously, "we'll know if this is any kind of human or pet parasite if we squish it. If it is red it is feeding on blood. If not, it will have clear guts". Ha! Now that is professional talk. Squish and guts. Well, he squished and there were no red guts. So now we had ruled out human or cat parasite.

Still we don't know what it is. But we do know that we get to keep the cat, in the

house, much to the kids delight. After the whole ordeal I called the extension office in Rexburg and found that I can take our taped (and one squished) visitors to be inspected there and the agriculture specialist will do his best to determine what they are.

Oh, but this story isn't over yet. We still have the ride home. (So I guess this is kind of a cat post too.)

I think Harrison was suffering from shock due to the ride there, the shot to his thigh, and sitting in a kennel next to a whining cat that was coming out of his drug induced "fixing" surgery so he was fairly calm, though still growling, during the whole ride home. Nathan however, was not calm at all.

Nathan called when I was about a mile from home and was crying in near hysterics. I was grateful to be blessed with a few minutes of the gift of tongues so that I could translate his panic: "Where are you? Is Harrison dead? Why did you make him have a shot?"

I hadn't even thought of what a panic Nathan might go into having stood in the driveway watching me leave with his cat jumping from window to window in protest of the ride, or to see me go running into the house catless grabbing a tape off the desk and running out again or to ask his brothers why I didn't bring Harrison back with me and his brothers telling him that Harry needed a shot. Oh, the three year old imagination must have run with all that information jumbled in there together.

I was finally able to convince him (in that l.o.n.g mile) that Harrison was alive, that he didn't cry when they gave him a shot and that he could open the door for me when I got home. He was waiting for me in the driveway. As soon as I was at a complete oil leaking stop he came running to my door to let Harrison out. Harrison nearly ran him over as he pounced from the car and ran to the porch. Nathan followed right behind him to assess the damage. I remained in the driveway talking to Derek and soon Nathan returned.

"Where's his bandaid, Mom".

Harrison got his bandaid, a nap and the luxury of living in the house again. LeRoy continues to itch since he is still bugged (hehe) by the unknown jumping specs in his shower, even though we haven't seen any in two days. Levi now has fur seat covers (or fur covered seats) in his car.

What Are [My] Little Boys Made of?

My little boys could have a bit of "snips and snails and puppy dog tails" in their doing but that doesn't describe any of the excitement that makes up these little Edwards men. The poem, for my boys, should read:

What are my little boys made of?
Gasoline and paintballs
And dirty, burned feet
And a touch of love for their mama.

Hand in hand they're teamed up for trouble! They are the best of buddies sharing hugs, kisses, snot, and mischief.

Gasoline

While Derek was mowing the lawn, Nathan played the part of Derek's shadow. He followed him everywhere. When the job was done Derek came walking through the door covered in grass and sweat. Not even two minutes later Nathan came sobbing and gagging through the door reeking of gasoline and covered in slobber and tears. He was screaming and gagging and choking and sobbing. Knowing this is not normal for Nathan and hearing a different hysterical cry than I have ever heard come from him, I ran to see what was wrong, dropping the phone on the kitchen floor which left LeRoy to hear the whole incident while he was driving.

As soon as I picked Nathan up I could smell gasoline. After a quick sniff inspection I could tell that he had it on his hands and mouth. By the way he was gagging and choking I couldn't tell if he had swallowed gas or just put his mouth on the hose of the can but I could tell from his bright red burning lips that he at least had gas on his mouth. I tried to ask him questions for details and he denied everything, or he was just a bit delirious from lack of oxygen from holding his breath between sobs.

I quickly called poison control and was told "people swallow gasoline all the time when they are syphoning from cars". SO!!!! This is a three year old and he was not trying to steal gas. He saw his brother stick a big fat straw into a bright red container, was interested and tried to drink from the fat straw! Who cares what adults are stupid enough to do?!

I had to take a breath and calm down and not yell at the lady on the phone.

I was told that he might vomit once and that would be normal (vomiting is normal?) but if he kept doing it that I would need to call back.

To shorten the drama. He is fine. LeRoy ran through the back door in a panic because he had only heard bits of the scene through the phone that had been dropped on the floor. We figured out that Nathan didn't actually drink the gas - he wouldn't have been strong enough to lift the can. We knew he hadn't sucked any through the "straw" because he doesn't have enough sucking capacity to accomplish that. We knew that he had stuck his mouth on it because of the red burn markings on his lips. I brushed his lips and teeth with toothpaste, gave him a drink of milk (at his dad's suggestion since that is what he "used to do when he got gas in his mouth" . . . don't ask) and he was ready for dinner. No harm done. Hopefully a lesson learned.


Paintballs

As we were getting ready for our Memorial Day paintball adventure Nathan noticed a gallon size bag full of paintballs (which we later found out that he thought were red gum balls). He ate one. Or tried to. He at least bit through rubbery ball to the liquid and had it all over his mouth and shirt. He wasn't crying at all just spitting it out all over the garage. Since there were no hysterics involved I took the time to look up the toxic/non-toxic information that I needed on the computer. I found out that the brand of paintballs we were using is non-toxic just nasty to the taste. They are made from cod liver oil. And the paint is washable.

Hyrum wanted to be cool like his big brother. While we were getting ready for our 4th of July camping trip Nathan was hauling around the bag of paintballs. He had learned not to eat them and the bag was sealed to I figured we were safe, and he felt important packing them around. I went into the house for a few minutes and when I returned Hyrum was spitting on the floor, had actually thrown up, and was giving me a pretty nasty look. I'm not sure how that played out while I wasn't there so it could have been some brotherly prank or sharing. Nathan must have given it to him since he wouldn't have been able to open the bag on his own. Either way, they have both learned not to eat paintballs.

Sharing . . . at least it's edible this time.

Dirty Feet

My nephew Matt stayed with us for a week and during that week I think Nathan and Matt spent most of it in the garage. I haven't parked in there for most of the summer because the little boys think it is their fort and it is the perfect place for 3 year old bike rides. However, just a day before Matt came I had been painting and sanding in the garage so there was a thin layer of black paint dust on the garage floor. Before I could get it all swept up the black dust became a work of art scattered with little grey footprints. As cute as it was I didn't want all that paint dust in my carpets so I captured both boys at the same time (acting like I was a monster coming to catch them, which worked so much better than just telling them to come in) and I set them on the sink vanity in the mudroom bathroom.

They thought it was the greatest prison ever! Though it only took a couple of minutes to soap up and wash their feet they stayed there playing in the water for almost 30 minutes. And this became a daily ritual, even if they had worn shoes all day.

Burned Feet

Hyrum stepped on Erika's hair straightener. She likes to do her hair on her bedroom floor, he likes to be in there with her. He had a thin white, blistery burn all the way from the tip of his 4th toe to the heel of his foot. When he finally settled into bed that night I thought walking was going to be pretty tough on him for a couple of days but when I went to get him the next morning he was standing on it and didn't seem to notice anything different. I followed our morning routine, not drawing any attention to it, and he hasn't seemed to remember it at all.

Mommy Luvin'

I promised Nathan that I would take him into town to get a watch at the dollar store. He has been coveting the one that Derek got there so the easiest thing to do was to give in and get him one. I'll pay $1 any day to stop the whining.

First,we needed to get ready for the day. Nathan's getting ready only takes about 3 minutes. All he needed was a potty break, clean clothes and his flip flops.

My getting ready takes a little longer. When really pressed for time I have it all down to a 20 minute science but when I'm not in a big hurry I can drag it out with shaving, weighing myself, a morning flossing, emptying the garbage, changing shirts three times because I don't really like any of them, all the while chatting it up with my one year old. Without a set appointment to make it to I chose to take my time.

Nathan was ever so patient. I could almost see a halo on that little boy as he sat on the end of my bed asking calmly "are you ready now?". He had to ask more times than I can remember. And he never lost his temper once.

As I was using the straightener to tame the frizz he walked over to the bathroom door, gazed up at me in the mirror and said "your so pretty, mommy". Now that's worth getting dressed up for!

This is what my boys look like when they are not getting into some kind of mischief . . . or maybe this is when they think it all up.

LeRoy's Back

We finally have some answers on LeRoy's back. However, that doesn't mean it is a quick fix or that it will all be resolved this week. There is a lifetime of back pain ahead of LeRoy but at least we have an idea of what we are working with. We have found a strange comfort learning that most of his high priest group at church has had similar problems with similar treatments. Most of it comes from an active life, aging and working the physical body pretty hard - all part of mortality, I guess.

As usual, nothing seems to dampen LeRoy's spirits or his faith or his determination to work no matter what. We are extremely blessed with good home teachers and the high priests who check in on us regularly. We feel very loved by family and friends who have offered prayers in our behalf and who also stay in touch with true concern. We move forward with gratitude that it is not worse than what it is and for the professionals who have taken extra time to ease our fears and calm our concerns. We are humbled to realize that this mortal state is so fragile, even in small situations, and we rely on the priesthood for healing both the spirit and the body. We are grateful for the work that has suddenly come up and pray for LeRoy to have the physical strength to keep up with it.

In summary:

LeRoy will receive a steroid injection at the site of his worst bulging disc, the one that is causing the majority of the pain in his back and all of the pain down his left leg. Within a month we will know how well the steroid is working and if he will still be in need of surgery (hopefully, not).

We are optimistic that the injection will work. This whole experience reminds me of when we bought a red Ford. Suddenly we saw them everywhere. Since finding out the cause, treatment, and possible results, we have heard from so many people of similar cases, resulting in either the injections or the surgery and in all but one case the outcome has had positive results. We are hopeful. LeRoy has gained such a high pain tolerance over the years that we don't expect 100% but he is hoping to at least return to the minimal pain that he has learned to live with.

The History: (This will be a little long but since we have been repeating the same details to doctor after doctor I figure I should document it for us as well.)

In 1987 LeRoy was in a terrible car accident while on his mission. It was bad enough that his head was laying open at the crash site (he now has a scar from his forehead around to the back of his head), he had a collapsed lung, doctors had to use the defibrillator on him 3 different times, his spleen had to be removed and his back was thrown for a loop - or a couple of chips. He has 2 chipped vertebrae from the accident and was told then that he would suffer from chronic back pain for the rest of his life, even if they did surgery to remove the chips. He opted to not do surgery since he would be in pain either way.

From 1987 to 1995 he would visit chiropractors if his back was bothering him more than normal (which usually meant he was considering missing work). They offered minimal relief.

In 2003 he was in another accident, a roll over on ice, which left him hanging upside down in his seat belt. Fortunately he rolled and landed in approximately four feet of fluffy snow which softened the impact. Though there were no immediate, obvious injuries it did seem to aggravate his back even more. He learned to live with that new level of pain.

Fall of 2008 brought a new pain down his leg. A sharp, nagging pain with a knot in his thigh similar to a constant charlie horse. He thought it was from basketball or crawling around in attics and that it was just never allowed enough time to heal. Now we know better.

In May of 2009 the pain became so bad that he was constantly taking pain meds, his limp turned to a full hobble, he couldn't stand up without resembling an 80 year old man and he quit playing sports. For those of you who know LeRoy, this was probably the biggest show of how much pain he was in. He hasn't missed playing a ballgame since I met him and yet he was sitting out everything. He would manage to get through what little work he had (which was nearly a blessing in disguise that we didn't have much work) and then he would come home and go to bed.

After trying a chiropractor and a physical therapist for nearly 3 weeks he went in for an MRI. The first radiologist suggested surgery with little explanation of why - we were just a bunch of pictures to him. We asked the hospital for his report of the MRI and went to another radiologist (our neighbor). He was great to sit down with us with the MRI pulled up on his computer and not only explained the situation but showed us in the pictures why they were suggesting surgery.

Radiology Report (summary):

L2-3 Mild disc space narrowing, osteoarthritic degenerative changes, slight disc bulge, small tear

L4-5 Mild disc space narrowing, mild disc bulge, tear

L5-S1 Severe disc space narrowing , prominent broad-based disc bulge, large extruded disc fragment causing severe narrowing to include posterior displacement and entrapment of the left nerve root

Then he referred us to and introduced us to a neurosurgeon in Idaho Falls.

The neurosurgeon was also great to answer all of our questions and explain, through pictures and with much detail, all of our options. He agreed with what the radiologists had reported only he explained the worst disc as "a herniated disc with a floating disc fragment that is compressing the nerve sac on the left". It was clear to us what he was talking about as we compared a healthy picture with LeRoy's picture. And we were able to understand why all of the pain is down his left leg. All of the nerves to his left leg are compressed to a space the size of a pencil line when it should be an area slightly larger than the width of a pencil eraser.

Though it appears that surgery may still be necessary, the neurosurgeon suggested starting with a steroid injection because he doesn't like to take the bigger risk of back surgery if it can be treated with less invasive methods. If it lasts beyond 4 months then we can hope for no surgery, though it won't be ruled out. If it is unsuccessful, doesn't last beyond a month, then he will be going to surgery. While we were standing there, the office scheduled an appointment with Madison Hospital for 3 days later, sending a fax of the report to them.

LeRoy showed up Monday morning, 8am, for his injection and the hospital had no record of him. No scheduled appointment, no fax of the report. The only doctor in Rexburg who does these injections is out of town until the next Tuesday. LeRoy was just a bit frustrated, to say the least. We tried scheduling at EIRMC in Idaho Falls but they couldn't get him in either. This isn't the first time that he seems to be lost as a file somewhere and we have found that unless we have a prior relationship with the doctor (like having the radiologist as our neighbor, or a personal reference and introduction to the neurosurgeon from the neighbor radiologist) then we tend to get set aside as if we are an inconvenience to the medical profession. I have no "G" rated words to describe the annoyance of being ignored when there is some major medical issue taking over your world.

So for now he is taking an anti-inflammatory and pain killer at least twice a day to get through a busy work week. And he is hoping for some relief next week.