December 13th.
Finally! Matt walks in the back door to find me hunched over the laptop at the dining room table. Kids running a muck. A few of them crying. Partly because they're hungry, but mostly because their mother's been neglecting them all day in order to slave over a very non-essential, time-consuming, extraneous Christmas gift that has brought out the very worst in her OCD.
"Thank goodness you're home, can you take the kids away? I have been working on this for 5 hours and they need to be ordered by end of day today to get here in time for Christmas." I say as Matt walks over to view what exactly has been hoarding ALL of my attention today.
I excitedly show him my work. 20 custom photo mugs for all of my family. Some even outfitted with a meaningful, or funny quote...which took me an hour, easy, to figure out how to compose. But! We aren't talking just your standard, run of the mill, 10 ounce ceramic mug. These are Magic Mugs.
These mugs start out black and only when holding a scalding substance do they magically reveal the image. Groupon gold I tell you. The instant I saw these items for only $4 each, I snatched them up. Game over. My brain had already fast-forwarded to Christmas day. Everyone opening their mug. Seeing an ugly, simple, black mug and thinking "wow, thanks Erin." Then, setting it under the Keurig and seeing a very thoughtful and significant image slowly appear from the bottom up. Suddenly, everyone would LOVE their mug. They'd be clawing and fighting their way over to the Keurig. Others might start heating water on the stove. Maybe even microwaving it. All smiles and excitement. There would be laughter. There would be tears. People not expecting gifts would get one. I would be the Christmas day HERO!! Magic is quite the understatement.
He sees some of my work, grins at a few of them, and says, "Erin. Don't get your hopes up."
Pshhh. Who me? No. Never. I'm fully aware that these are a $4 Groupon, so the odds of things not going smoothly are very high. Likely the correct photo won't even end up on the mug. I have braced myself. I AM a reasonable human, thank you very much. But...it's going to be sooooo awesome when they do show up and they are perfect. And I am the Christmas day hero.
"I know, Matt. I haven't. I just need to get them ordered now."
He eyes me skeptically. "Ok. But don't get your hopes up." He proceeds to call all the kids out of the kitchen and settles onto the couch in the family room.
December 20th
I received notification that my Mugs have left the warehouse! I am ecstatic. I instantly click the tracking number. The FedEx information loads quickly...and THAT my friends...is the instant Christmas was ruined.
Expected Delivery Date: December 28th, 2017.
Location: Prairie Village, KS
Wait. What!? Prairie Village!? A double whammy, not only is it being delivered no less than THREE DAYS TOO LATE, it's going to my OLD ADDRESS. I had been fighting with the damn "auto-population" during check out the whole time, and obviously, the Mac won. I was at work when I saw this, and, even though I can probably count on one hand the number of times I've cried {during pregnancy doesn't count} in my life, I found myself choking back tears.
I had gotten my hopes up.
I felt so defeated. I wasted precious hours on these. And though, by themselves, they are a cool gift, it just wouldn't be the same to not experience the wonderful chaos that would ensue upon opening these gifts Christmas day.
I tried to pull myself together. I tried for the next 3 days to not look at the tracker. I tried to re-ignite the spark of excitement for Christmas. I couldn't let it go though. I called FedEx. I called the Mug company. I asked Matt to call FedEx. I had my old neighbor walk down and give the owners of our old house my phone number in case they miraculously showed up before Christmas. Now. In my defense, my melancholy probably intensified due to 1-3 children puking and pooping and with fevers at any given moment starting on the 15th.
At this point, I am just praying for nothing short of a Christmas miracle to get me out of this funk.
December 23rd
The illnesses continued. In both my house and throughout the community. I had to make another REALLY difficult and Christmas-ruining decision to cancel our 12th Annual O'Laughlin Ugly Christmas Sweater Party. It didn't seem right to invite people in to my stomach flu-ridden home. Also, I feared the bug could hit me at any minute. So, to add insult to injury, instead of prepping my glorious Winter-wonderland of a home, I popped into work to get some charting done. And, because I am a glutton for punishment, I checked in on the package tracker, one more time.
Estimated Delivery: Out for delivery.
Wait. What!? Is this a prank? What exactly does this mean? This time, I am taking Matt's advice. Absolutely, not getting my hopes up...but...I think we are getting the mugs!!! OMG OMG OMG OMG.
An hour later...
Estimated Delivery: Delivered.
They made it. The neighbor texted me. Matt picked them up from the old house. I opened each one. Poured hot water in them and watched the magic. Each one worked. It had the right image. It was perfect. I wrapped them in the special bags I had purchased specifically for the mugs. I sighed such a sigh of relief. I think I was glowing. For a moment, the sick feeling about cancelling the party had gone. Things were right in the world. I could not wait for Christmas morning. Could. Not. Wait.
Everyone was going to be so surprised.
Christmas Day
We awoke in the wee, wee, like 1 to 2am morning hours to Curtis puking. Then Diana puking. Then Mitch pooping. Then everyone crying because they wanted to go downstairs and see if Santa had delivered. Then going to wake up Dee only to find her crusted in vomit. A lot more crying ensued as we showered her and delayed gifts even longer. I felt off - probably from the less than 4 hours of non-continuous sleep, and was, again trying to hold back tears. Honestly, I'm not real sure I did sleep. What a disaster.
Our whole schedule got pushed hours back. We texted family members, should we still even attend Christmas brunch and dinner? The kids, though ill, would have been devastated if we stayed home. We were rushed everywhere we went! As the hours wore on, I could hardly muster the energy to sit and smile. I'm not sure I'd been that tired, ever. Not with any one of my newborns. Not with swimming 10,000 yards a day up at 4am. Getting the mugs to everyone felt like such work. There was nothing magical about it. I took no pictures. I just sat, in one place. And frankly, I didn't get to see much...
...as it turns out, all my energy was drained, not because of lack of sleep...but because I'd finally contracted that dreaded stomach bug that had been plaguing my family for nearly 15 days. As my sibling just began to marvel at their mugs, I excused myself. Drove home. And proceeded to spend the rest of Christmas alone. In my bathroom.
No Christmas Hero here. Unless you count surviving the day. But, even after ALL of that...
...I will probably still get my hopes up.
Saturday, December 30, 2017
Sunday, December 10, 2017
A Magnetizing Story.
The morning of November 20th started like any other Monday. Absolutely miserable. And chaotic. As per the usual, I believe I awoke to Mitch standing at my bedside asking, "Who is watching us?"
Leah.
"Whyyyyyyyyeeee!?? Ugh."
Mitch, it doesn't matter, you have school all day, you will hardly see her. (It doesn't matter who I name here, he always whines. Unless I say it's me or his father. Even then he whines, because I'm not sure he can speak in any other tone.)
"Do I get my lunchbox?"
Yep, just like EVERY Monday.
No reply, he sulks off. Because, that's also what Mitch does...sulks. He's simply a peach.
I then got up, maybe I showered, definitely I gathered uniforms, then I proceeded to try to round up the 3 grade school boys, quietly, as Diana frequently sleeps in until 8 or so. Or, at least pretends to, then sings to herself for a bit. Lately, she has been doing recaps of her day in song to the tune of Let It Go, "We went to Science City, it was Science city, and the guy!!!! He fell down. And we played at Science City. And *jibberish, jibberish, jibberish, jibberish* Science City..."
After reminding Brock at least 7 times to get his shoes and socks on, he finally does it, but only after bribing him with breakfast. Or threatening not to give him breakfast if he doesn't get them on...does that qualify as a bribe? Maybe it's extortion. I don't know, there's a fine line there, am I right?
On this particular Monday, I'm pretty sure we were privvy to "uncooperative George". You know, as opposed to "screw waiting on these adults to help me, I can do everything myself, in fact, I'm looking for my own apartment George". Though the latter gets him into some pretty age inappropriate situations (I'm just waiting for him to attempt to drive himself to school), it's great because I will wake up to him 100% dressed, and potentially even self fed. Where as, "uncooperative George" has the most incredibly severe, frustrating, yet almost admirable stubborness one has ever encountered. Things that he can do in seconds become "too hard" or "take too long" or "my arms don't work" or "I'm too tired" or "I hate sk-cool" or "Why is *insert whoever the sitter is for the day* watching us!?" So, that's fun.
I haven't mentioned Curtis, because unlike ALL of his siblings, he kind of simply just does what he is supposed to...routine doesn't seem to bother him a bit. I think he might even enjoy it. Routine means he gets to mindlessly go about his day. In stark contrast to his older brother, who I feel has not less than 772 thoughts reeling through his mind at any given moment, I think Curtis might have 1, or 2...on a really hyper day. Bizarrely (but maybe the right adverb is: unfortunately) Curtis is our "Black sheep", yet I feel also the most "normal".
In other words, my other kids are all #$%*ing weird.
Which, perhaps, is a great way to get to the moment where this EXTREMELY typical Monday got a bit off track. I know, I know, I'm with you, at what point exactly was it "on track"?? All of us made it to our appointed locations, on time, and relatively cleanly dressed, so, yup, those are pretty much my standards these days.
I was traversing through the insanity that is Monday morning in a doctor's office. Seeing patients, returning calls and emails, checking labs...when my phone began to ring, and I could clearly see it wasn't the school, but the actual Kindergarten teacher herself calling. I didn't get to it in time...but that sick feeling was there. This was a first. A call during school hours from the teacher! That means the kid didn't even get to the school nurse, or it was so bad the nurse couldn't call because she was performing CPR or whatever they do for a child that has a tragic accident at school.
I try calling back. It's busy. I text "Sorry I missed your call, do you need to talk?" I then get this reply:
Oh thank God! One magnet, not a problem. And, it's uncooperative George day, so not much would surprise me. Then, I get to thinking, wait. But has he swallowed any other metal recently? Why do I even have to ask this? He's 5 and a half. Aren't we past the whole 'worried your child might swallow something phase'? Crap. Will we EVER be beyond that phase with this child? Ugh.
"It's fine unless he has swallowed any other metal! Please ask him if he has swallowed anything else."
A bit later, from 2 different sources: He says he has an entire piggy bank in his belly. But insists it's from when he was 3.
"Does he seem to be laughing about all of this? Can we trust his answers?" This is a real legit concern. George tends to do things simply to get a laugh. So, I really needed to know if he was making light of the situation.
Teacher's reply, "No, he was definitely a bit panicked after it happened. It wasn't on purpose."
After texting a few of my medical comrades, we deem everything to be ok, and that we will just become concerned if he develops some abdominal pain or stops pooping. Which doesn't happen. We aren't real diligently watching his poop either. Honestly, Brock is more stressed about the situation than any of us. Eventually, we all kind of forget about it. Except Brock.
Flash forward to the early, early morning of December 1st. George is writhing in pain on and off for hours through the night. So many families have had that stomach bug, I don't really think anything of it, except, please don't throw up anywhere except the toilet. Pleeeasse. But the kid just can't get comfortable. I push around on his belly, which doesn't seem to illicit any kind of pain, and it feels nice and soft and normal. I go back to sleep. Then, I hear him groaning, I wake up, and BOOM. It hits me. The magnet!!!! I punch Matt awake. "The magnet! We don't know if that has ever passed. Crap. Should we just wait until morning, and I'll X-ray him?" A groggy and confused Matt contributes very little to the discussion and I go check his belly again. All seems fine. It's now 2:30am and George has gotten up again, crying now. Matt very sternly asks him if it really hurts and if we need to take him to the hospital. George says, "I think so". (PS. In the meantime, Diana has awoken with a 102.4 fever and is miserable. No sleep for all!)
There it is folks, after a collective 28 years worth of children existing in our home, we took one to the ER. We all knew it would be George. I then get this text:
Two hours later, an exhausted 5 year old, and relieved 34 year old return home, and crawl back into bed. Matt mutters, they said if he keeps pooping it's fine, and give him some Mira-lax. George sleeps soundly for the next 3 hours. In the reasonable hours of the morning, I called some concerned grandparents to reassure them about the situation, but Brock overhears me saying the magnet is still in there. I get off the phone to see a pacing, bug-eyed and very worried Brock. "The magnet is still in his stomach!?" After a ridiculous amount of reassurance, we get all the boys off to school, George included. Reminding George that he cannot poop without telling us! And to quit flushing before an adult gets a chance to look at it. Brock becomes agitated and yells at George, "Stop flushing the toilet, George!!!" At this point, the whole house is in hysterics about George not taking this situation serious enough. Lucky for George, he has 4 siblings, more than happy to announce when he is pooping.
According to a few different accounts, George proceeded to proudly point at this right-lower quadrant, exclaiming, "the magnet it right here". I am sure the kindergartners were just soaking up the drama of it all, and George provided all the proper theatrics.
Meanwhile, I'm over-thinking things. Is it stuck in the ileo-cecal valve? If it is, what kind of procedure could get all the way to the small intestine? How long can we let this magnet hang out in his gut? I'm trying to get through my work day, to rush home and prepare my home for 30 women, after almost no sleep and a house full of tired and ill children, with no nanny, because she called in sick as well. December 1st will absolutely go down in history as one of THE most chaotic, difficult and fun days in the O Family Circus history.
Fast forward again to December 6th. A Wednesday. I am off other than a short meeting, so I scheduled George to see GI, because no one has witnessed a magnet in the toilet. If I'm being honest here, we didn't search real hard, Matt and I were far less concerned than Brock with seeing the poop. After impressing all of the Children's Mercy staff with his ability to loudly snap his fingers, George gets examined. They say just more Mira-lax and a repeat Xray. Also reassuring us, this could take up to 6 weeks to pass.
On December 8th, after many uneventful (thankfully) nights, we get a chance to x-ray his little belly again. The children entertained my entire office as we awaited the results. NO MAGNET!! It was gone. I'm not sure I've ever seen Brock more relieved. I'm not sure Curtis was ever truly aware of what was going on, anyway. Mitch seemed bored. Diana, I'm sure is working on a beautiful sonnet about the whole experience, and George? After I exclaimed, it's gone! Says, "Oh". That's it. After all of this excitement, chaos, stress...a simple shrug and an "Oh".
I know you were all hoping this story would have a really exciting and dramatic ending. But it, well, there ya have it.
Addendum: Upon texting the teacher to let her know of the good news, she was thrilled, and also informed me that if we had recovered the magnet that it belongs back in the Science center at school...uhhhhh...
Leah.
"Whyyyyyyyyeeee!?? Ugh."
Mitch, it doesn't matter, you have school all day, you will hardly see her. (It doesn't matter who I name here, he always whines. Unless I say it's me or his father. Even then he whines, because I'm not sure he can speak in any other tone.)
"Do I get my lunchbox?"
Yep, just like EVERY Monday.
No reply, he sulks off. Because, that's also what Mitch does...sulks. He's simply a peach.
I then got up, maybe I showered, definitely I gathered uniforms, then I proceeded to try to round up the 3 grade school boys, quietly, as Diana frequently sleeps in until 8 or so. Or, at least pretends to, then sings to herself for a bit. Lately, she has been doing recaps of her day in song to the tune of Let It Go, "We went to Science City, it was Science city, and the guy!!!! He fell down. And we played at Science City. And *jibberish, jibberish, jibberish, jibberish* Science City..."
After reminding Brock at least 7 times to get his shoes and socks on, he finally does it, but only after bribing him with breakfast. Or threatening not to give him breakfast if he doesn't get them on...does that qualify as a bribe? Maybe it's extortion. I don't know, there's a fine line there, am I right?
On this particular Monday, I'm pretty sure we were privvy to "uncooperative George". You know, as opposed to "screw waiting on these adults to help me, I can do everything myself, in fact, I'm looking for my own apartment George". Though the latter gets him into some pretty age inappropriate situations (I'm just waiting for him to attempt to drive himself to school), it's great because I will wake up to him 100% dressed, and potentially even self fed. Where as, "uncooperative George" has the most incredibly severe, frustrating, yet almost admirable stubborness one has ever encountered. Things that he can do in seconds become "too hard" or "take too long" or "my arms don't work" or "I'm too tired" or "I hate sk-cool" or "Why is *insert whoever the sitter is for the day* watching us!?" So, that's fun.
I haven't mentioned Curtis, because unlike ALL of his siblings, he kind of simply just does what he is supposed to...routine doesn't seem to bother him a bit. I think he might even enjoy it. Routine means he gets to mindlessly go about his day. In stark contrast to his older brother, who I feel has not less than 772 thoughts reeling through his mind at any given moment, I think Curtis might have 1, or 2...on a really hyper day. Bizarrely (but maybe the right adverb is: unfortunately) Curtis is our "Black sheep", yet I feel also the most "normal".
In other words, my other kids are all #$%*ing weird.
Which, perhaps, is a great way to get to the moment where this EXTREMELY typical Monday got a bit off track. I know, I know, I'm with you, at what point exactly was it "on track"?? All of us made it to our appointed locations, on time, and relatively cleanly dressed, so, yup, those are pretty much my standards these days.
I was traversing through the insanity that is Monday morning in a doctor's office. Seeing patients, returning calls and emails, checking labs...when my phone began to ring, and I could clearly see it wasn't the school, but the actual Kindergarten teacher herself calling. I didn't get to it in time...but that sick feeling was there. This was a first. A call during school hours from the teacher! That means the kid didn't even get to the school nurse, or it was so bad the nurse couldn't call because she was performing CPR or whatever they do for a child that has a tragic accident at school.
I try calling back. It's busy. I text "Sorry I missed your call, do you need to talk?" I then get this reply:
"It's fine unless he has swallowed any other metal! Please ask him if he has swallowed anything else."
A bit later, from 2 different sources: He says he has an entire piggy bank in his belly. But insists it's from when he was 3.
"Does he seem to be laughing about all of this? Can we trust his answers?" This is a real legit concern. George tends to do things simply to get a laugh. So, I really needed to know if he was making light of the situation.
Teacher's reply, "No, he was definitely a bit panicked after it happened. It wasn't on purpose."
After texting a few of my medical comrades, we deem everything to be ok, and that we will just become concerned if he develops some abdominal pain or stops pooping. Which doesn't happen. We aren't real diligently watching his poop either. Honestly, Brock is more stressed about the situation than any of us. Eventually, we all kind of forget about it. Except Brock.
Flash forward to the early, early morning of December 1st. George is writhing in pain on and off for hours through the night. So many families have had that stomach bug, I don't really think anything of it, except, please don't throw up anywhere except the toilet. Pleeeasse. But the kid just can't get comfortable. I push around on his belly, which doesn't seem to illicit any kind of pain, and it feels nice and soft and normal. I go back to sleep. Then, I hear him groaning, I wake up, and BOOM. It hits me. The magnet!!!! I punch Matt awake. "The magnet! We don't know if that has ever passed. Crap. Should we just wait until morning, and I'll X-ray him?" A groggy and confused Matt contributes very little to the discussion and I go check his belly again. All seems fine. It's now 2:30am and George has gotten up again, crying now. Matt very sternly asks him if it really hurts and if we need to take him to the hospital. George says, "I think so". (PS. In the meantime, Diana has awoken with a 102.4 fever and is miserable. No sleep for all!)
There it is folks, after a collective 28 years worth of children existing in our home, we took one to the ER. We all knew it would be George. I then get this text:
Two hours later, an exhausted 5 year old, and relieved 34 year old return home, and crawl back into bed. Matt mutters, they said if he keeps pooping it's fine, and give him some Mira-lax. George sleeps soundly for the next 3 hours. In the reasonable hours of the morning, I called some concerned grandparents to reassure them about the situation, but Brock overhears me saying the magnet is still in there. I get off the phone to see a pacing, bug-eyed and very worried Brock. "The magnet is still in his stomach!?" After a ridiculous amount of reassurance, we get all the boys off to school, George included. Reminding George that he cannot poop without telling us! And to quit flushing before an adult gets a chance to look at it. Brock becomes agitated and yells at George, "Stop flushing the toilet, George!!!" At this point, the whole house is in hysterics about George not taking this situation serious enough. Lucky for George, he has 4 siblings, more than happy to announce when he is pooping.
According to a few different accounts, George proceeded to proudly point at this right-lower quadrant, exclaiming, "the magnet it right here". I am sure the kindergartners were just soaking up the drama of it all, and George provided all the proper theatrics.
Meanwhile, I'm over-thinking things. Is it stuck in the ileo-cecal valve? If it is, what kind of procedure could get all the way to the small intestine? How long can we let this magnet hang out in his gut? I'm trying to get through my work day, to rush home and prepare my home for 30 women, after almost no sleep and a house full of tired and ill children, with no nanny, because she called in sick as well. December 1st will absolutely go down in history as one of THE most chaotic, difficult and fun days in the O Family Circus history.
Fast forward again to December 6th. A Wednesday. I am off other than a short meeting, so I scheduled George to see GI, because no one has witnessed a magnet in the toilet. If I'm being honest here, we didn't search real hard, Matt and I were far less concerned than Brock with seeing the poop. After impressing all of the Children's Mercy staff with his ability to loudly snap his fingers, George gets examined. They say just more Mira-lax and a repeat Xray. Also reassuring us, this could take up to 6 weeks to pass.
I know you were all hoping this story would have a really exciting and dramatic ending. But it, well, there ya have it.
Addendum: Upon texting the teacher to let her know of the good news, she was thrilled, and also informed me that if we had recovered the magnet that it belongs back in the Science center at school...uhhhhh...
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