Mr Bones opens up....with surgery

Mr Bones had his appendix out a few days ago. Both Anthony and I still have ours in tact so we haven't experienced appendicitis ourselves, but I have had three siblings with it. I probably didn't pay very close attention though as...well, that's what Mum was for. 

Now I am 'Mum' though, and the buck stops here when it comes to your child.  

That's what's so scary about being a parent, your child is sick - it's your responsibility to help them get well.

Your child makes a mess, you have to make sure it gets cleaned one way or another.  Your child hurts another child, you feel guilty. The buck stops with you.

Wednesday afternoon I picked the boys up from school. Tony said his stomach pain began as he walked from his classroom to meet me. I kid you not - straight away I had the thought;

"I wonder of it's his appendix?"

I then talked myself out of it as it seemed like I was being over-dramatic when many other more simple reasons could explain the vagueness of 'a sore tummy' in a child.

He had no fever, no vomiting, and no re-bound tenderness. That was about the extent of my appendicitis knowledge so when we got home, I just told Tony to lie down. 

He felt a bit better later and came to to the park. He played a bit but didn't want to join in the running races. 

By dinner, Tony wasn't super hungry but had his dinner. He started feeling nauseated and in pain about half an hour later. Bed time rolled around and he couldn't sleep as the pain was worse. Still no fever though. 

I brought Tony into our bed and called Anthony (who was out) to let him know Tony had tummy pain and that there was a chance we would have to go to hospital. An hour later, Anthony and I were looking at each other asking ;

"What do you think?"

"I don't know, what do you think?"

"Should we take him to hospital? Do you think it's his appendix?"

"The pain seems like it, but he has no fever. He does feel sick though..."

In the end we decided that instead of trying to diagnose him ourselves (with the assistance of Dr. Google), we should just take him to hospital to be sure.  He was still off his food and had pain on the right side of his abdomen when we pressed on the left so we thought it was enough of an indication to get him checked out. 

So 9:45pm, off we went. Tony didn't have to wait long at all as he was vomiting in the waiting room (I strongly recommend this to speed up the waiting process - miss the vomit bag and aim for the floor if necessary).

I must say here, that it is hard for us to gage the level of pain when it comes to Tony. If he gets a paper cut, you would think he has severed his entire finger off. 

However, I knew he must have been in a lot of discomfort when I asked him if he wanted a chocolate from my bag and he said "no"!

The surgeon said he suspected appendicitis and to put him on a drip and keen him nil-by-mouth and admitted him to the childrens ward for review in a few hours time. 

There were no tears when the cannula went in - I underestimated Mr Bones! He soon curled up and went to sleep. 

Come morning, he was feeling better. Still sore, but not writhing around - just more when you touched his stomach. He still didn't want to eat though and although improved, just wasn't 100%.

I was expecting to be discharged as the older boy in our room also had suspected appendicitis and was moaning in pain, much worse in comparison to Tony. 

When the surgeon came to review them both, the other boy got sent for an ultra- sound and said they will wait and see, and Tony was scheduled for surgery in 2 hours time! 

He was so brave and the surgeon said he was very tough as he didn't cry earlier that morning when examined despite his appendix looking pretty nasty when he took it out. 

Another hospital trip to add to the Bush Chronicles - this time Tony's turn. 

Stubborn as a race horse

I have a stubborn spirit. 

I know some who know me may not know this about me. Some may even find it hard to believe and think I am just being self critical. But it's 100% true - Anthony can testify to this. 

I'm not saying it's always a negative thing either. Sometime this stubbornness works to my favour in helping me to not settle when I believe something is of true importance.

But there are other times when I am left with the nagging feeling that I need to apologise. Usually to my sweetheart. 

He always accepts it though. He has to, I make his lunches and dinners. 

There is something heavenly about knowing he is the one person who has seen all my 'ugly' sides over the last decade, but still calls he me beautiful every single day.

I think my stubbornness is part of my nature. I don't think I inherited it - I just came this way.

Perhaps that is why I have faced what feels like some difficult trials early in life; because my stubborn spirit needed such challenges to grow.

But how thankful I am for a stubborn spirit to carry me through these trials. 

And even more so, I am grateful to this man who loves me when I wear pyjamas in the middle of the afternoon with my hair unbrushed and I am completely unshowered. And he still tells me I'm beautiful. 

Eye of the storm

We are now a few weeks into the term. The last few weeks have been BIG ones for us. For anyone who reads my blog, I don't think I need to explain why. 

Tony loves his new class and teachers (he has 2 teachers who team teach). He is working hard but tells me that his teachers make school work fun and he has a smile on his face whenever he talks about them. 

We had a small concern about how he would cope without his best friend in his class. The two of them are peas in a pod and often can be found huddled together chatting away about who-knows-what. I remember having friends like that. The kind where you are truly in your own little world together. 

They have been in the same class the last 2 years but are not this year. They have coped remarkably well though and find each other before school, after school, at lunch, and even call each other after school. They are proof that any friendship worth keeping, you will put in the effort. 

I have no doubt that Tony has great success in his future. He is very capable, but more than that, he is a kind and thoughtful boy who want to do the right thing.

Our concerns for Carter starting school were much larger.  With his Global Developmental Delay, any major adjustment is difficult. It takes him much longer to learn new routines and to retain new information. He is easily frustrated and his fine motor skills are a huge challenge, which makes school tasks very difficult. 

He has an amazing memory for people, music, and places though. He is so funny and has a genuine love and concern for people. He is so gentle and drawn to animals and small children. He often comes out with things that remind me how intelligent he is. There is nothing fake about Carter, he can't help but be who he is. 

And he is pretty amazing. 

He is loving school and has been so blessed with an amazing teacher who truly sees him for who he is, not just his challenges.  She too has commented to me that he gives answers to questions that are beyond his years. The struggle isn't his intelligence, it's in learning new skills and retaining them once learnt, as well as his attention span. There have been hiccups along the way, but I can see Carter is adjusting to school life. I know it's still early days, but I have confidence with lots of hard work, he will succeed.

The last few weeks have made me see my children differently though. I have watched Tony playing with friends in the early morning play time and admired his ability to make friends so easily. I love that he would be a friend to anyone who seeks his company.  He has great math skills, thankfully, as math was definitely not my strong suit. He has also developed an interest in drawing, which he didn't really care for in the past.  I have witnessed a creative side that I didn't know was there.

I see Carter differently too. I sometimes feel inadequate to help him in the ways he needs.  I want to help him overcome his challenges. But the last few weeks I have focused more on enjoying my time with him rather than trying to 'fix' him.

Fixing him is not my job. My job is to hold his hand and lead him when he needs it, and to let him lead me when he knows the way.  Sometimes the path he takes me down is much better than where I would have ended up.  I realise now that it is my privilege to raise a son who has tough challenges in his path. He teaches me how to face my own challenges. By laughing, dancing, and playing. 

He is only young, but he has already learnt to find joy in the journey. 

It has been a very different month for me. One that was probably necessary, but also one I am grateful for. 

A little bit of love

Yesterday being Valentines Day, it only seems appropriate that I base this post on something soppy and lovey-dovey.

I have 3 Valentines. 

My first - Anthony - wasn't here most of Valentines Day. He had been on a Year 7 camp the past few days. I purposely kept the days he was away extra quiet so it wouldn't be a big strain on me.  Even though he was only gone less that 72 hours, I really missed him.  I am very aware that we live in a world that finds difficulty in sustaining long term love and particularly marriage. This is why I feel so blessed to have no doubts in how I feel about my husband. Although I wasn't looking forward to his being gone, it reminded me of how much I love him and his presence in our home. Every time I saw my phone ringing with his name across the screen, it made my heart jump the same way it did a decade ago when we were dating. The five minute conversations here and there were the highlight of my past 3 days. 

My second Valentine is Tony. Tony is sometimes described as 'shy' by many who know him. He can be, but he is also willing to put himself out there at times in ways that I would be too scared to.  He asked me on Thursday night if he could make a Valentines card for a girl in his class. I would have thought he would be way too embarrassed to even consider doing this. But he sat and coloured a heart shaped card and wrote a message inside and stuck it to a packet of lollies. 

As he packed it into his bag the next morning, I was secretly hoping he wouldn't be teased as I know some 8 year old boys still aren't too keen on girls.

At school pick up I couldn't wait to hear how he went. As soon as I saw Tony I quietly asked him if he gave his card. He shrugged his shoulders and said the little girl was away. After psyching himself up, she wasn't even there! He then said he will just keep it in his bag and give it to her Monday.  My boy has guts!

My littlest Valentine treats everyday like Valentines Day. Carter is BIG on love. He very proudly presented us with the Valentines Day card he made addressed to his 'family' and stick it on our fridge. 

Earlier that week, there was an 'event' I must share with you. At school drop off, the yard around the Kindergarten classrooms are packed with parents. When the bell rings, the children all line up at their class door and we say our farewells before leaving the school gates to enjoy 6 hours of freedom. 

After Carter had gone in, I turned to leave and heard his little voice calling out to me. I turned to see him running towards me. He said;

"Wait Mum, I didn't give you a kiss yet!"

Whilst this was completely untrue as I had just kissed him goodbye less that 2 minutes ago, I obliged as who doesn't want more kisses from such a cutie?

I got a little more than I bargained for. In full view of the hoards of Kindergarten parents, teachers, and children, Carter threw his arms around my neck a planted one on me! I'm not talking a good old peck, I'm talking a wet mushy kiss with his head moving from side to side and his eyes wide open just centimetres from mine. The exact same kind of kiss I caught him practicing on his bedroom mirror last week. I literally had to pry his hands from around my neck and wipe his saliva from my face.

So I am now going to be known as THAT mother. The one who had her Kindergarten son pash her in the school yard!

Happy Valentines Day!!!

The day of reckoning

It's here! 

We have talked about this day non-stop for months now.....and it's arrived. 

My baby starts his first day of Big School today. Mr Tarts is all set and ready, but I don't know if I am. 

If you asked me six months ago, I would have told you I was looking forward to our big baby starting school. Some days it couldn't come fast enough. 

But here we are and I am nervous, but more sad. I'm losing my little buddy.  Who will I dress up in my wedding dress and do fake weddings with? Who will drive me crazy in the supermarket asking for lollipops? Who will ask me about the colour of my bra in the choc-a-block doctors waiting room?

We have been through this before with Tony, but having a 2 year old at home still made me feel better about it all. Now I feel a little lost. 

Mothers of older children always tell young mothers who are pulling their hair out with little ones to 'treasure' these moments as they won't last forever. I thought these women had developed early onset dementia (likely delayed onset) as a result of years of watching childrens programs and living with toddlers on no sleep. 

Turns out I am an idiot! 

Today, I wish I could wind the clock back a bit. If I knew how I would feel today, I would smack myself in the head and tell myself that there is truth to those words; 

"Treasure these moments, before you know it they will be gone."

I guess from the hours of 8:55am til 2:55pm, I won't be the main woman in Carter's life anymore. He has a lovely teacher, but I will miss being the Sandy to his Danny, the Gabriella to his Troy, the Catwoman to his Batman. 

Point Clare Public School is getting a good one! In fact in my opinion, they have two of the best. 

Sneaky sneaky boy

Anthony and I realised just a couple of months ago that Tony's days as a 'Santa Believer ' are numbered now that he is eight. He was in a Year 2/3 class this past year, and being in a class with older children, we knew that come Christmas, the discussion of Santa would likely come up amongst his classmates. We sadly realised this Christmas could be the last before he 'knows'.

I feel that as soon as he asks outright, we should tell him from now on, but until that happens, my lips are sealed and I'm a happy woman. 

There hasn't been too many expressions of doubt from Tony and I thought we were in the clear as December approached. Tony's class even wrote and posted letters to Santa (for those who wanted to).  Tony asked me for a stamp to take to school so I knew he had written one. 

A couple of days later, I got a message from a friend who works at Tony's school and whose son is Tony's best friend.  She thankfully gets the inside scoop and gave me the heads up about some rather important information regarding Tony's letter to Santa. 

Tony had asked Santa to ring a bell when he comes on Christmaa Eve to let him know he was real.  His plan was to not tell his Mum and Dad, so that he could use this to test Santa's validity by whether or not there was a bell rung or not. 

Sneaky sneaky boy!!  

Thanks to the heads up we received, we were able to make a plan to keep the magic alive at least another year. 

Come Christmas morning, the boys awoke and we all gathered together to open our gifts.  Tony did not mention not hearing a bell at all. 

One of his last gifts was small and we eagerly watched him unwrap a red bell and a letter from Santa. The letter explained that Santa didn't want to wake him at night when he came, so instead he wanted to give him a bell to hang on his door to remind Tony of him. 

Tony was so thrilled and then told us that he and an older boy were debating the existance of Santa and when Tony said he believed in Santa, the boy asked him to prove it. Tony came up with this bell plan to put it all to the test and said he couldn't wait to tell his class mate what had happened. 

I know the time will come soon where the truth will be discovered, it's all part of growing up. But until then, I love that my children have such belief in human goodness. They accept that someone would make toys for children they have no relation to and spend every day of every year working to bring joy to others with no request for anything in return.  Acceptance of such a concept in the world we live in is magical in itself. 

I know our Santa days are numbered for Tony, but at least for now, there is a bell hanging on Tony's door :)

Just a little bit precious

I am not a very good swimmer. I CAN swim. I am certainly capable of saving myself if I needed to, but I'm just not very good at swimming. I think this is in part due to my dislike of swimming. It's just such a hassle! All the getting changed, sunscreen and sand, chlorine and ear plugs, and trying to peel off wet clothes, then put on dry clothes inconspicuously whilst still a bit wet (it's like trying to get dressed after being covered in glue). 

I don't think I'm a particularly girly-girl, but when it comes to swimming, I get a bit precious. I MUST wash my hair after swimming. It doesn't matter where I am or who is around, I need to properly wash my hair after swimming. I'm not talking a good rinse with clean water; I'm talking shampoo, conditioner, and a comb. I'm not even embarrassed to admit that when we go to the beach, I stand at the outdoor shower (where people have a quick rinse or wash off their boards) and I wash my hair and leave with a big puddle of suds behind me. 

I just hate the feeling of sand or chlorine in my hair. Or on my skin for that matter. I also must bring moisturiser with me to apply immediately post-swim. 

See - precious. 

It seems somewhat cruel that it has been recommended much of my life to swim. For my back, to strengthen my core muscle, to build leg muscle, blah blah blah. And swim I have! But very reluctantly. In more recent days, my swimming advice has continued, but I am mainly restricted to walking in the water as there is less twisting motion. This pleases me greatly as there is less hair-wetting opportunity. I have still, however, not taken to the water as much as probably should. 

I'm not really big on New Years. I LOVE Christmas, but New Years doesn't mean all that much to me. Seeing so many Facebook friends comment on their reflections of 2013 did cause me to do a little reflecting of my own though. Like most years, there was joy, pain, growth, sadness, and fun. 

Some moments this past year remind me of treading water. Just kind of keeping my head above water, but not really going anywhere. Treading water is necessary sometimes. It can be a life-saver. Some moments of 2013, I absolutely needed to just stop and tread water so I could catch my breath and stop from going under. 

Other times I was just treading water because it was easier, or I lacked the motivation to really swim. 

I learnt a really valuable lesson early in 2013 that I have mentioned previously (sorry for all who have read it already).  I was in a sullen state post-surgery in February and feeling pretty sorry for myself. Mainly over having to go through surgeries more than I would like. I was just treading water I guess. But late one night in hospital, after a brief-but-tough physio session, I suddenly realised I had so much control over my situation and I could make the decision to endure the trial as best I could.  I was desperate to get through the recovery phase and needed to really swim and push myself in the direction I wanted to be.  

This lesson has been a standout moment of 2013 for me in my own personal growth.  I have learnt that when I find myself in a position that is undesirable to me, instead of just treading water and staying there, I can muster all my strength and swim with all my might to calmer waters. 

Of course there were times later in the year where I got lax in life and at times realised I was just doing Doggy-Paddle and likely just going round in circles instead of focusing on my goal.  This is what New Years brings I guess. A chance to re-focus on our goals. Yes, it can be done anytime really, but our attention is particularly drawn to our goals as January 1st draws near. 

My 'goal' this year, is to swim more and tread water less....and definitely not drown:)