The End of Christmas Break

And really, thank God for that. No, not really, but gosh is the house a whole hell of a lot fuller with four kids than it was with three. Or even two. *Gasp* that sure was a long time ago. So before they head off back to school, I took the kids to the Zoo in Hilo which is fairly small, but they enjoy it. Afterwards we went for ice cream at Baskin-Robbins and then we drove home on Saddle Road and took a few pictures of the snow on Mauna Kea.

The sun was out and everyone was happy. It proves to me once again that a good day isn't necessarily one where nothing goes wrong; just one that makes you smile.

Look, over there! It's Random Photos!

In light of the boy's health returning to full strength, and there being nothing of importance to report at this time, I give to you family shots of Kapa'a and Lapakahi State Parks.

Ho Ho Oh No...

My quasi-New Year's Resolution (in addition to the usual things like losing weight, listening more than I talk, dancing like John Travolta in Pulp Fiction) is to attempt to write my blog at least once a week. This might be an epic fail type resolution, seeing as how I am now Mommy to four, but I will go for the win.

I hope everyone had a nice Christmas. Ours started out fairly well with my mom, Steve, and Hannah coming to visit. The kids had all had some chest congestion, but they saw the doctor the day before and I wasn't too worried. Until about 5 on Tuesday. James was struggling a little bit so I took him to the doctor again. She saw him and had me take him to the Emergency Room for chest x-ray and RSV test. I took him and they did all kinds of test. They took blood cultures and saliva cultures and Culture Clubs. They tested for influenza and RSV and gave him an IV and put an oxygen hood over his little melon. And decided they would keep him. For 48 hours. They gave us a nice bed in the ICU.

So my son spent his first Christmas in the ICU. And while because my mom was here, I still got to open presents with the other kids and eat Christmas dinner with other people, I still feel that my Christmas wasn't just different, but a dismal failure. It could have been worse, I tell myself, it could have been a lot worse. The doctor even reminded me how much worse it could have been. She said she was so thankful that I had thought to bring him in because most times people just go with the wait and see approach, which would have meant a VERY different Christmas. I am usually a big fan of this approach, but this time I wasn't. For whatever reason, I called the doctor.

The nurses were mostly good. Everyone was helpful. Some even a little too helpful what with waiting until my poor sick boy was asleep to strip all his clothes off and weigh him, thus waking him up again. The Respiration Therapy nurse and Liz, my day nurse, asked for permission to suction out his lungs and I said okay, so for Christmas, my son had a tube shoved down his nose. And it worked. After that he started to get better. The doctor finally decided on bronchialitis until the labs came back. The tests said he had some pnuemococcal-I can't pronounce what this is-thing. Which is a virus that the older kids brought home from school and James was just too little to stave off. And had he been just a month older would have had a vaccine for.

They let us go on Boxing Day and he is 100% better, so I will try really hard not to complain that my Christmas sucked hard and welcome the New Year with open arms.

And pray that it goes better than last year which pretty much sucked.

Oh holy crap...our first trip to the store sans anyone who can actually hold Ruth.

So about two months ago, I got this fabulous idea (no, no, I am being serious). Why buy a carrier/snugli/sling/two kid stroller when I can just sew a sling for cheaper and be done with it? And thus, my very own slingy-thing was born and it was even in fact cheaper which is sometimes not the case when you are sewing things. Especially if you mess up. With 5 yards of fabric. Anyhoo, today I decided I could no longer stand to be cooped up in my house with Ruth and James and I needed to get some Christmas gifts anyway and I want to travel a bit so I will go to the Border's in Hilo.

I am supergenius. Gaze on me and despair.

I put James in the slingy thing. It works absolutely fab-oo. He is so snug he continues sleeping as though nothing had happened. I get out Ruth. Everything is still good. We enter the Border's.

All cohesion breaks down.

Okay, so it wasn't quite that bad. Except as I entered, I realized I would have to go to the bathroom with a baby strapped to my chest. And I had forgotten how hard it is to chase said small person around with a baby strapped to your chest. And manage to do some shopping at the same time. Paying is especially interesting. No, I don't need anything else. I (and every other person in the store) would just like to pay and be done please. Here's my money, take it!

But all in all, Ruth did very well. Including the full body sprawl in the parking lot where I had to pick her up.

With a baby strapped to my chest.

James Kekoa Barrett

December 3, 2008 at 12:00am

6 lbs. 12 oz.

20 1/2 inches

First off, everything's fine.

Just so no one worries. On Friday, I came down with a nasty stomach flu that had me throwing up every 45 minutes. I finally gave in and went to the hospital at 630pm because everytime I threw up the absolutely nothing in my stomach, I would then get this really sharp stabby pain across the top of my stomach.

So they hooked me up to the monitors and discovered that the sharp stabby pain was in fact labor. Which is in fact a bad thing at 35 weeks. Because I was so dehydrated, I went into labor. Who knew? And at 35 weeks, a delivery would mean flying the baby back to Oahu. That's no good.

So they hooked me up to an IV. They gave me some pills which I threw up. Ohmigosh, how I hate throwing up. Especially since I was nine months long morning sickness pregnant with Owen and now when I throw up it's, "holy crap my stomach is coming out of my throat and I am choking to death, pounding on the floor, because I can't BREATHE!!!!" So they gave me some shots instead. One to stop throwing up and three to stop the labor which I was to frickin' exhausted to fight off anymore. So then I became Stoner Sara because those non-puking drugs always make you high as a kite, but then the non-labor drugs made me like a speed freak junkie with the shakes. And of course the non-labor drugs pump up your heart rate which pumps up the baby's heart rate which means...a whole night of observation in a crampy non comfortable, not made for eight months pregnant woman's back, totally too short bed. They finally let us go at 7 the next morning.

So I am trying to ignore that my house is in shambles, there is a monumentous pile of laundry stacking up, we cannot eat because all the dishes are dirty, and I must still drive Owen to school. Abra sadly cannot go because...

Now Abra is sick.

Help! Help!

I am 30.

When did this happen? Was I sleeping? How did I get to be 30?

I don't feel old (which is good) and I am not really upset (which is better), but I am still curious that time seems to have taken a giant leap from 22 to 30. Okay, maybe frightened is a better word than curious. Because if it leaps like this for the next eight years, holy crap, I will almost be forty!

Ah well. At least I still look 17. Right? Right? Just smile and nod, damnit.