We Have a Contender!

"Although the world is full of suffering,

it is full also of the overcoming of it."

- Helen Keller

I have already mentioned before about my fascination with survivor memoirs, particularly those from World War II. I just finished a book entitled In My Hands: Memories of a Holocaust Rescuer by Irene Gut Opdyke. I think I have a contender for my all-time favorite, currently held by The Hiding Place. I am still processing this book. This woman went through so much herself, she saw so much evil and hatred, and yet she gave life to so many others.

It is told by Irene, who was only 17 when WWII began. She lived in western Poland, just miles from the German border, and her town was consequently one of the first invaded and taken over by the Germans. She goes from being a nursing student, to an outlaw with the dismembered Polish army, to working in a German officers' dining hall.

She talks about being raped by members of the Russian army, about hearing the "spit and vomit of a madman" referring to Hitler's speeches, about hearing the announcements that "This town is Jew-free!" being trumpeted from the loudspeakers on the corner of the street. She talks about seeing from the dining hall window the Nazis raiding the ghetto behind her, about seeing a mass execution, a baby murdered, a family with young children hanged. But she does it in such a way that you can feel her resolve forming. She uses these atrocities to strengthen her will.

When she sees the raid on the ghetto, she begins to fight back. Her first act of resistance was leaving a box of food under the fence that bordered the ghetto behind the dining hall. Because she was a young, petite, pretty, Aryan-looking girl, she was able to get away with things others may not have been able to. She would pick up pieces of conversation between the Nazi officers and was able to pass that information along to the Jews. She would use the German warehouse to get them food, blankets, medical supplies. She smuggled people out to the forest to go into hiding.

She becomes the favorite of a German army Major and is made the housekeeper of his villa. Ultimately - and this is so cool - she was able to successfully hide 12 Jews, including a pregnant woman, in his basement until the Germans' defeat. And she did all this before her 22nd birthday.

Her story doesn't end there, though. She becomes a partisan fighter and spy that would sabotage both the German and Russian armies. She is captured, interrogated, and escapes. She lives in a repatriation camp after the war and eventually becomes a U.S. citizen. I have so much admiration for the courage and spunk this lady had. This story is the perfect example of why I like to read these kind of books. It is awe-inspiring to me.

Little J-isms

Little J is a character. He constantly cracks us up with his funny take on life. He has these "crazy eyes," as we call them, when he talks. We call them his crazy eyes because when he gets so excited about whatever he is telling us his eyes get all big and round and he talks about 10 times louder than necessary for us to hear him. He is such a motor mouth, which is funny because he had to have speech therapy when he was 2 because he wasn't talking. At all. Now he never stops.

Little J has a thing with how people look. I can not tell you how many times he has (to my utter embarassment) pointed out quirky things about people around us. Just imagine the (very loud) conversations that followed the following situations: a one-armed cashier at Office Max, a girl with no toes wearing sandals at a restaurant, a very large woman diving into the pool, a rough-looking man with a long beard and tatoos sitting at the table next to us... He's even pointed to a model on the back of a magazine and said, "I don't like how she looks. I don't like that" and pointed to a mole by her lip.

He has also said things like "he talks funny" or "why is he talking like that?" when someone with a speech impediment was speaking in church or when someone (usually with an accent) is taking our order at a drive-through.

He lets his feelings be known at just the right time, too. A couple of weeks ago at church, he let out a very long, very loud sigh, followed by, "This is SO BORING!!!!", followed by another very loud sigh.

When the missionaries came to dinner last week, he greeted them with a rowdy, "Do you know that your weiner is your penis?!" That brought a round of chuckles and a few red faces. Along the same lines, one little boy in his primary class told me one day after church that, "Little J was very good today. He didn't tell me he was going to punch me in my penis!" I just stood there, open-mouthed. I could go on and on about the things he has said at inopportune moments, but they are probably more funny (or horrifying) in person.

A few days ago in the van he asked me if little girls had booms, too. "Booms" are his word for boobs. Somewhere along the way he understood them to be called "booms" and it has stuck. I answered him by saying that little girls would have them one day, but they hadn't grown yet. (To which my husband helpfully commented, "That's when things get interesting..."). Little J then notes that "Jenny doesn't have any booms." Jenny is our 8-year-old neighbor girl. HELLO! All I could think about was that my 4-year-old was a boob man! At least it wasn't another penis discussion....

And So It Begins....

All my boys have been pretty good-sized kids. All of them have been strong and hit most (physical) developmental milestones quicker than average. All of them have been in, on, and under everything while other babies their age have been sitting politely in place or army-crawling across the room. For example, Big J walked right before he turned 8 months old. He was running by 9 months. Little J walked at 9 months and was running by 10. I thought this was fun and cool until I realized that just meant several extra months of having to chase them around.

Little Man is 7 months and 3 weeks. He has been crawling for a good month now and most recently climbed the entire flight of stairs from our living room to the second floor. He is pulling himself up on everything, and is just at that age where he is mobile enough to be dangerous, but hasn't figured things out enough to be safe. Here is a cellphone snapped pic of where he decided to go today:

*Sigh*

And so it begins....


No babies were harmed in the making of this post.

Private Parts

Not to embarass my son, but this discussion is going to be about him and his nether-regions. Considering he is only 7 months old, I think he will be ok with it.

Little Man had surgery 2 weeks ago for an undescended testicle. They took a scope through his belly button to find it, and then made an incision in his groin above his leg to move it. It was suppose to be a pretty straight-forward procedure and life would move on. I was a nervous wreck the days leading up to his surgery, and thankfully my mom came up to stay with the boys during this time. I was all teary the entire time we were at the hospital, especially when we were brought back to the admitting area. There is just something wrong with seeing bright, happy child-like pictures on the wall and fun toys and Little Tykes cars scattered around with little kids in hospital gowns playing in them. It really got to me and I said a prayer of thanks right then that I did not have a chronically ill child that had to go through things like this regularly.

One of my strongest memories of that surgery day is Little Man in this tiny green hospital gown and yellow hospital-provided socks, sitting up in this child-size gurney holding onto the side of it with big eyes as he was being wheeled into the surgery area. I, of course, started crying as we went out into the waiting room. I knew something was up while we waited, because in the time frame they had given us, we were on the long-end of it. An hour later the surgeon comes out and tells us that they had found the testicle, but it was atrophied and they had removed it. He called it "disappearing testicle syndrome" or something like that. After assuring us that he could function just fine with one good one, I asked a few questions, and we waited for Little Man to wake up.

My second strongest memory of that day is being brought back to see my baby in the recovery area. My ever-pleasant, energetic boy seemed like he had been hit by a truck. He was (obviously) out of it, pale, and crying weakly. He had an IV in his leg. His face was swollen from the fluids. It just broke my heart, and once again I said a prayer of thanks that he was ok and that we didn't have to do this often. I was also thankful that I was still nursing him and could sit and hold him and nurse him after that.

They discharged him shortly thereafter and we brought him home. When we spoke with the surgeon and the discharge nurse, both had made it sound like he would spring back quickly and be back to normal within a couple of days. They put no restriction on his activities (like bouncy seats, etc) and said that the pain prescription they gave us was just precautionary and he probably wouldn't need it.....

Yeah. Whatever.

That day Little Man was in so much pain that if you just shifted him funny, he would cry in pain. Real crying. Real tears. Something he hardly ever does. He couldn't sleep well. He would only nurse weakly. That afternoon we went and filled the prescription and gave him some so he could get some relief. Up until this time he hadn't peed or anything, which I thought was weird considering all the fluid he'd been given. But around 5:00 I decided to change his diaper anyway. I nearly had a heart attack when I saw what was there inside! His poor little scrotum had swollen up so much it looked like a balloon about to bust. It was literally the size of a baseball. And he was black and blue. I freaked. I called for JC. He saw it and he freaked - actually I think it was along the lines of one of those groaning, "Whoa!"s that I imagine only guys who can relate have.

I called the post-surgery nurse. She said some swelling would be normal, but it shouldn't be a lot. I told her it was freakishly swollen and that "if it's so normal, not one of the three different people we talked to bothered to say anything about it happening!" She suggested we take him to the after-hours urgent care at the hospital. They took us back immediately even though I had heard her tell the lady in front of us that it was a 2 hour wait. The doctor there checked him out and was going to admit him, partly because of the swelling, but mainly for the fact that he hadn't peed or anything. She called the on-call surgeon, and once again, he said he wasn't too concerned with swelling because it was normal.

So we take him up to get admitted, and during the time we're there he starts acting more happy than he has all day. And he pees. On their bed. The doctor up there that checks him out says it is full of fluid but that he wasn't concerned now that he had peed and was perking up, so we could take him home if we want. It was up to us. So 4 1/2 hours after going to the urgent care, we head home.

Skip ahead two days...he is still very swollen. Not baseball size, but still way too big. For cryin' out loud, it should be a walnut not a plum! And it was about the color of a plum, too. So I call the surgery clinic and ask to speak with the surgeon. His nurse calls me back and in that fake we'll-pretend-we're-listening-and-act-concerned voice tells me that the swelling is normal. I am beyond irritated at this point and emphasize with her that I was NOT HAPPY with how no one had said one word about it as something to expect if this was so "normal" . The conversation ended with her saying she would be sure to let the surgeon know of my concerns.

Days pass, Little Man is getting back to his regular self behaviorly, but he is still black and blue and still swollen! I was going to call the surgery clinic again and tell them to expect me in there because this was getting old, but they beat me to the punch. They called to re-schedule his post-op appointment. I told them that I needed to bring him in because he was still swollen and this was NOT NORMAL. They said if I could get him there within the next 30 minutes, they would squeeze me in.

So I take Little Man and he finally sees the surgeon who performed the surgery a week earlier. He takes one look at his swollen little sack and goes, "Oh, no, this is not normal!" and then asks me,

"Have you called up here to the clinic about this?"

I was so ticked off I was sweating.

I told him everything that had gone on, and he was very apologetic and said that this was the first time he had heard of it. He mentioned several times how disturbed he was that he hadn't heard anything about this (and I was just happy I wasn't one of the nurses who was going to hear about how disturbed he was). The good (?) news was that he said the swelling was not caused by something damaged or anything like that, but that he had a large hematoma that had formed post-surgery. He said it would take about 6 weeks to be all re-absorbed, but that he shouldn't have any problems and everything would be back to normal. He told me that this was such a rare thing that he might see it in 1 out of about every 200 surgeries he performs. He apologized again and said to be sure to call if anything changes, but that he should be fine and would start to go through the healing stages.

So I sighed in relief.

But that was last week...

This week I had been concerned that the swelling wasn't going down any more, and that the color of the bruising had seemed to cycle through for the most part, but now one side of his scrotum was very hard and red. And he seemed to be uncomfortable. I also thought a few times that he had a low-grade fever. So yesterday I finally called the surgery clinic again and got an appointment set up for this morning.

Apparently, he has a tissue infection now. They are hoping a round of antibiotics will help knock it out and nothing more will have to be done, but we won't know that for another week. My poor little baby! His poor little body! I feel so bad for him. I just hope it doesn't develop or turn out to be something else.

And again, I offer a prayer of thanks that I have healthy kids and do not have to do this on a regular basis. I really feel for those people who do. It is draining. My parents were one of those people, with my younger sister Nicole. And I admire their strength even more as we've been climbing over this little mountain the past few weeks.

So say a prayer for Little Man's private parts and let's hope the end of this drama will be sooner than later!

I Wish I Was a Betting Woman

That's my girl!

Stop the World! I Want to Get Off!

So, I've been MIA for awhile. Lots of things (some of which will have to be different posts all in themselves) have been going on. I am not complaining, but I feel like for the past couple of months, my already busy life has been even more hectic. But with what, I can't exactly say. I have three small kids, but it's not like they are involved in multiple activities. I do have several "extracurricular" things I am involved in on top of regular life, but it still seems like life is more of a whirlwind than it should be. For example, after looking at my Scheduling Bible (a.k.a. my calendar) on Sunday, I happily exclaimed to my husband that "this week doesn't get crazy-busy until Thursday!" Um, ok. Let's skip normal day things like dishes, feeding kids, mini-catastrophes and all the "check-list" type stuff and start the next day at 11:00....

I was out the door to take Mason to a post-op appointment. (Yes, he had surgery a week ago, for those of you who do not know. I will have to write a different post about that experience). At 12:10, I pulled back in at home, loaded kids and was off again to get Little J to preschool by 12:15. Then I dropped off Big J for afternoon kindergarten. This entire time I am in the car I am also returning calls to several people (these are not "for fun" calls. I'm not a talk-on-the-phone-for-fun kind of gal). I still have 2 people I never called back. Then I picked up lunch and a few other things I needed and brought them back home.

Next, I quickly got ready for the Primary presidency meeting that was at my house at 1:30. (Yes, I am the Primary president now. For those of you who are not LDS, this is the president of the children's organization in my ward at church. What is really fun is that in addition to this, I am also still the den leader over the Wolf Scouts, as well...another story). As soon as the meeting is over, I quickly nurse Little Man for 5 minutes then run out the door to pick up Little J by 2:45. I get him and I then have 40 minutes to do all the "regular" busy day stuff around the house, feed Little Man, etc. Then out the door to get Big J at 3:40.

A friend had called me earlier in the day to help her out by taking her son to piano lessons. So I pick up Big J with the other 2 in the car and head that direction to pick up my friend's kid. On the way I do an errand, on the way back I do two errands. Little Man is tired and screaming the entire time, something he rarely does, but he has not been in his best form as of late. I get home, throw the rotisserie chicken down on the counter (that I had purchased when we had to make a pit stop at a grocery store because Little J was whining that he was going to pee his pants) and tell the boys I'm putting Little Man down and I'll get dinner in a minute.

I start getting the baby settled and I hear the door bell. It's a salesman for Living Scriptures videos that I had told he could come back later when he had knocked on the door during the presidency meeting earlier. The boys had the door wide open and him inside before I was even down the stairs. Grrrr.... He was a nice kid, but holy snorefest! Absolutely no personality. I was going to fall asleep during his demo and kept thinking about how everyone was hungry, since this was dinner time and all. I finally just said, "Could I just tell you what I want and could you just tell me the what kind of free deals I can get?"

For-ev-er later I finally got the kids fed and headed to bed. Well, the bigger kids. Little Man did take a late nap somewhere in there and so he was still up rearing to go. At 9:20, the older boys were still awake even though they were put in bed an hour earlier.

So that was my non-crazy busy day. This has been about par for my days the last couple of months! This day didn't even include things that are pretty standard on other days. And we won't even go into how white trash my yard is right now or how many loads of laundry are sitting ready to be put away or the fact that my baby's room is still not painted and he is 7 months old now. I have decided that I need to cut back or prioritize or do something different.

Yesterday, I helped my boys in their quest for interesting rocks for 20 minutes before dinner and I realized that I need to do that more often. I realize that I need to go on more walks and play more games and just sit and cuddle. My babies are growing up and in all the running around, I'm missing out.

We got a raise!

Check out this article on what a stay-at-home mom is "worth" now-a-days. Not bad, ladies, not bad! Not that I need an article with an estimation of how valuable the work I do each day is to make me feel good, but it's kind of nice to see it broken down into terms other people can understand. :-)

Before I had kids, I can remember asking my friend Heidi what a stay-at-home mom did all day. I wasn't asking in a demeaning way, I just honestly didn't know. Her response was, "I don't know - but I'm busy all day long." How true! My sister Tori did this post recently to try to capture what keeps a mom busy all day. I think her accounting for was relatively modest.

I am not ambitious enough to write down what I do each day and night, but let's just say it was 11:30 last night and I was cleaning my bathroom because that was the first chance I had all day to get to it. (And I will interject here that I am not a cleaning nazi. I would like to be, but my house is on "survival mode" clean - so this was just basic maintenance cleaning). I went to bed at 12:30 and was up at 1:00, 3:30, 4:45, 6:00, and now 7:00 between all the boys tag-teaming me. That's a pretty representative night for me.

And then you just go... all day long....into the night....and then do it again.

We're Gonna Party Like It's 19-92!

My dear sister tagged me for a Sr. Year meme, so here goes….

1. Who was your best friend? My boyfriend Armando Castillo (Mando) and Lori Thompson

2.What sports did you play? Basketball, softball

3.What kind of car did you drive? 1986 Chevy Cavalier (black)

4. It's Friday night, where were you? Probably hanging out with Mando and a few friends

5. Were you a party animal? Not even close

6. Were you considered a flirt? I had a boyfriend I was loyal to, so probably not. Even if I didn't have a boyfriend, probably not.

7. Were you in band, orchestra, or choir? No.

8. Were you a nerd? I guess it depends on your definition of a nerd. I got good grades and was a pretty good kid, so if that is a nerd, then yes. But dog gone it, people liked me…

9. Did you get suspended or expelled? No.

10. Can you sing the fight song? I wasn’t that big of a nerd.

11. Who were your favorite teachers? I honestly don’t remember any of my Sr. class teachers names. I know my geometry teacher's son was in jail for murder. Does that count?

12. Where did you sit during lunch? In the commons area

13. What is your schools full name? Denton High School (although my Sr. year they built a new school which is Ryan High School and we were moved to there, but my diploma says Denton High School)

14. School mascot? Bronco

15. Did you go to Prom? Yes

16. If you could go back and do it over, would you? No. The entire time I was in high school I couldn’t wait to get to college. I never got into the whole “high school is the coolest time of my life” thing. It was good, but I was ready to move on!

17. What do you remember most about graduation? I remember the ceremony and taking pictures afterwards. I remember feeling proud of what I had accomplished.

18. What was your fav. class? My “advanced social studies” class where I went and helped at-risk preschoolers with the Headstart program.

19. Where were you on senior skip day? I went to school. All the kids who skipped got ISS.

20. Did you have a job your senior year? Not really. I worked summers as a receptionist at my dad’s CPA office.

21. Where did you go most often for lunch? My Sr. year we had closed campus, so I brought my lunch most of the time. What can I say? I was health-conscious even then.

22. Have you gained weight since then? Um, YES.

23. What did you do after graduation? Like that night? I went to the Grad Party, but had to leave early because I was leaving at the crack of dawn to fly to Miami to go on a cruise! I went to Brigham Young University a few months later.

24. Who was your Senior prom date? Mando. We doubled with Jennifer White and Andrew Royal.

25. Are you going to your 10 year reunion? That was 5 years ago! I didn’t go – I was pregnant with my first and lived out of state. I don’t really care (beyond basic curiosity), because I don’t keep in touch with hardly anyone.

26. Who was your home room teacher? Like I know. My entire second semester I was only actually at the school for 3 class periods, so I don't think I had one.

I tag: I only have a few people to rotate through, so if you are reading this, consider yourself tagged!