Okay so, let's see, um…to bring you all up to speed…uh…well, where to start? So, about a month ago I drafted up a little yellow press article about how great we're doing as a family and how I just love Draw Something and a slug of other boring stuff about life and luxury at the ol' Homestead. Well, so since last we spoke, here's a little snapshot of what went down: 1) Lexi had her surgery; B) Easter; 4) Life went on.
So, in that order let me bring you up on our goings on. So, Lexi went in for that surgery I alluded to earlier. She went in on a Tuesday and had a couple of screws put into each knee at the growth plate on the interior sides. Then they removed one of the bolts from her right foot which was set in there to allow that ligament to tighten up so her arches wouldn't flatten out and continue to cause pain. Then, the coups de gracias, she had her right femur broken with a "bone chisel", and the doctors placed a metal rod inside the bone cavity and rotating it 22 degrees outward then zipped it down with the ol' Dewalt screw gun. She was in quite a bit of pain that first day, as it was about a three hour surgery to accomplish all that. Poor kid couldn't eat beginning at midnight the night before, and we'd been at the hospital (Primary Children's), since 11 am. Little segue here, but Primary Children's' is a class act hospital. It's not on par with Shriner's as far as catering to children, but the staff was amazing. They had a little play area where we played a little foosball and Disney Monopoly while we waited for her surgery to begin two hours behind schedule. Don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining, this is an organization that caters to children and strives to make their lives better.
So while we were there, we played as I said some games, and Lexi made a pink cape for her little sister Olivia with colored glue and stripper glitter and buttons and stuff. She's really quite crafty that kid I tell ya.
Anyhow, they finally called her back and Stacey and I were left in the waiting room with our individual and collective fears while they wheeled our little girl back into the sedation area and on into the surgical center. When they finally called Stacey back (only one could go back at a time) Lexi had a little trouble and I wasn't able to see her for a couple hours after that. I finally got to see her in her room at just shy of ten pm. She opened her eyes, asked for me, fluttered them back shut and she slept through the next thirty minutes of my being there.
Well, from there I left the hospital after sampling with Stacey some of their delectable cuisine down in the hospital cafeteria. By the way, the old lady making change had a good sense of humor, but the lady that replaced her the next day had about as much personality as a Portobello mushroom. That's WITHOUT the cheese and fixin's mind you.
Anyhow, that night I courageously assumed the role of Mr. Mom and set about a new standard of expectation for the remaining personnel at Fort McKenworthy. So that night I think I got up with Sam only twice, thrust a bottle his direction, and talked Olivia down off the snuffy-nose ledge twice through the aid and comfort of a sippy cup. We were quite out of Pink Milk (aka Nestle Strawberry Quick) and so we went to war with the milk we had, not the milk we wanted. Well, the next morning was Friday and I can't remember how, but I got Josh to school for type lab at 0700 and then commenced to righting all the wrongs in the household. I started by tearing out the patio bricks in the back and exposing about 150 square feet of sand beneath them. At that point, Sam and Olivia discovered that through the miracle of hydration, they could, through the simple act of adding water, create a wet, soupy sand bog that resembled the Fire Swamps in the Princess Bride (Rodents of unusual size??? I don't think they exist). Anyhow, so from there, I recall piling all the laundry from four large and separate piles, into one predominate and quite tidy single pile in the corner of our bedroom. I had, at that point, every intention of returning to fold, at the very least, the towels, and, time permitting, me own undies should I get the hankerin'.
Well, at that point, I saw somethin' shiny, and realizing that my daughter would have no means for which to enter the abode in a wheel chair, commenced to fabricating, with the help of my father, an eight-foot long ramp, complete with side rails and safety precautions which would last well into the next month of projected wheel chair use. Well, it's a lot more difficult to build a ramp using skill saws and power tools while fending off 1.5 year old sons, and 3.8 year old daughters whom aren't in the very least interested in reruns of Diego, Bo on the Go, or any other beta wave producing drivel. NOPE, these kids wanna help. Even better I say, they're learning a trade at a young age. Well, nigh on a couple hours later, with ramp complete, Dad got smart and left and I was again left to my own devices.
Eyeing that nefarious pile of laundry again, I resolved to return later and approach it from the flank, and instead focus our cumulative efforts towards straightening the kitchen, family room, front room, stairs, and other areas of visibility in preparation for the impending mercy and fellowship of the neighborhood ladies whom were about to descend (much like angels of mercy) and alight on our home with baked beans, egg salad, some rolls, bbq pulled pork, chicken salad and other tender delights and treasures which Pinterest had inspired and proven worthy of their efforts. So, the grub arrived, and I downed at least my apportioned poundage of culinary delights and then, quite by force, encouraged everyone over the age of eight to THANKFULLY partake so as to not offend the Sisters of Hope and Mercy whom might even have stopped by with no-bake cookies had I left a bit larger hint at their original departing. Oh, some time that day I planted some flowers and some bulbs. I have no idea what the bulbs were, only that the pictures were purdy and I was willing to do whatever it takes to stay out of the house as long as possible.
Anyhow, so that evening we went about our duties of combing our faces and washing our hair and got everyone into their Underoos and ready for bed, just shy of the midwatch. So, the next morning Stacey and Alexia were slated to return, and my Mother in Law (Shane) arrived at the appointed time and took the reins while I went to fetch a peck of pickled peppers up to the hospital.
So I skipped on up there and parked and signed all the forms and releases and…well, mostly carried the four large (and quite heavy) bags which had asexually reproduced, doubling each night they were away. Well, we got everyone into the car and with the arrangement of two car seats and a little shuffling we were able to shoe-horn most everyone back into the Pilot and get for gettin'.
Well, that evening we figured out some design flaws in the current ramp structure, as well as some of the inherent challenges as to keeping four of your OTHER children off of the crutches, and out of the wheel chair which you'd rented. Oh, actually, truth be told, the wheel chair didn't arrive till Saturday. I was alone (again, quite unafraid) and the door bell rang while I was upstairs showering the two littlest makers of sandy mud products. So, I run down stairs, and allow, "Trent" our friendly neighborhood wheelchair rental guy, access to Ft McKenworthy. So I apologize that I have two kids up in the shower, one wife AWOL at the grocery, one son whom (thankfully) disappeared to a friend's, and another bedridden little lass on the couch watching King of Kings of Kings of Dumb Dumbs or whatever the hell that show is. Anyhow, pre-teen comedy is MIND numbing stuff I tell you.
Anyhow, so Trent comes in and starts giving me the entire schpeel on the ins and various outs of your finer rental wheelchairs. I excuse myself while he's adjusting the legs and go retrieve the devil spawn up in the shower. I'm getting them dressed as quickly as possible, and succeeded only in a diaper for Hammy and the, "wrong" pajama bottoms for O-Liv-i-A. Anyhow so I go down stairs, apologize to Trent for him being late by two hours and my two littlest kids commence to running literally circles around us as we talk. By now my blood pressure is quite elevated, and all my attempts to speed ol', One Speed Trenton along prove completely fruitless. Well about this time Isabelle shows up (with her new glasses by the way) (VERY studious looking if I do say so ma-self), well Isabelle is now messing with the crutches, Hamsome and Olivia are running circles around us, Trenton is looking me in the eye expecting complete and udder focus, Josh is texting me about a lay-over in Dallas, or with Dallas, or Oliver or whatever…the crutches take flight with Isabelle and WHERE in THE HELLLLLLLLLLL is STACEY?!?!?!
Well I sorta blacked out at that point and I remember thanking Trent for the hour-long class on Wheels on the Bus and the various and sundry complexities of the Round and Round. So, at that point, Josh arrives, and the continually unheeded recommendations to, "Stay away from her crutches, and get OFF the wheelchair" starts.
Well I gotta be honest with you, somewhere in all the middle of that we had three Easters. Yeah, one at her mom's at 11 am, one at my mom's at 3 pm, one Sunday morning before three laborious hours of spiritual uplift in complete contrast with the two-day sugar rush our five nearly mobile children were enjoying.
*sigh* *slow exhale* I love work. No seriously, I LOVE being at work. It's so….relaxing.
Well hey, speaking of work, I gotta get to it. You have yourself a completely awesome day/week/whatever until we have time to reason together again.
All the Best-Meow,
J
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