Red Works

Good stuff came out of Mother’s Day weekend. Peter scored big points when he came home from Rapid City lugging a big ol' outdoor carpet for my back deck that I’ve been dreaming of for years. We essentially live in the yard after Memorial Day and I just wanted that extra touch to our outdoor space. Happy Mother’s Day to me! Sounds lame I know – Hey so and so, what did you get for Mother’s day? Answer - Why I got this lovely pearl pendant! Sabrina, what did you get for Mother’s Day? Answer – I got a RUG! Woo-hoo! And it is perfect and exactly what I wanted.

Our girls, also essentially sick since January with this indescribable nasty sinus thing and two ear infections, were diagnosed with chronic sinus infections. This super surprise rounded out with a 21-day dose of antibiotics. The directions on this new antibiotic indicate that one should not take any iron containing products 2 hours prior or 2 hours after ingestion of this drug. RRIGGHHT.

The patients here are two 8-month old babies on iron supplemented formula and you don’t want me to feed them milk for 4 hours at two different times of the day for TWENTY-ONE DAYS!? Upon calling the pharmacist and doctor, it was decided that this really is the best medicine for them since the amoxicillin did nothing for them and the augmentin just ate their guts and made them soil their diapers every 20 minutes for 10 days. 30 tubes of butt paste later, we’re all healed up from that debacle and headed down antibiotic lane again. Anyway…back to the non-iron junk. The caution, per the pharmacist, is that it does cause some absorbency issues and I’m just supposed to watch for effectiveness. Meaning if Peter and I ever get a decent night of sleep in the next century again, then the meds are working. The secondary caution is that such products mixed with this drug make their bowel movements red. I mean RED folks. Or maybe it tilts toward hot pink? This is all great and wonderful, because who really cares if their poo is pink or red or magenta or candy apple. They don’t have diaper rash any longer and they’re going to get better, right? I can deal with any red, blue or green hue you throw at me.

After the girls bath the other night, I laid them on their bedroom floor and was dressing Nina first. Meanwhile, Jocelyn crawled her naked derriere over to the Leap Frog table and started pounding keys. Those legs started wiggling, the woops and he-haws started flying out of her mouth. It looked like she was really doing a groove and she was giggling, jiving, shaking that booty and having such a great time in the nude, I thought, “I’ve got to catch this on film!”

I take off at lightning speed, return to the room, camera in hand, and pat myself on my back that I caught her still in Elvis Presley action. As I start recording her I realize that between her feet, on our light beige carpet, is a petite, Jocelyn-sized pile of magenta. As this is all sinking in to my sleep deprived brain and I’m saying, “No! No! Jocelyn!” she continues to groove and starts stepping in it and splashing it up and down her legs, through her toes and up the Leap Frog table. Down goes the camcorder. Forgetting to turn the camera off, I now have a great memory on tape of Jocelyn dancing in her hot pink poo and then 34-minutes of carpet with background noise including the re-bathing process, the diapering and changing, and then Samuel crying, “Mommy, I touched something I shouldn’t have!” as he shows me his hands covered in black paint. And since it’s an old school camera, and I’m too lazy to figure it all out, the memories and 34 minute carpet scene shall remain, including discussion of what exactly Samuel got into.

All in all however, we are 10 days into the meds and they are not working. The girls cough and hack and run snot, so they are not sleeping through the night.  Therefore, neither are we.  I talked to the doctor again today and they’ve decided to pull them off of the antibiotics to save their little intestines and we’ll revisit on Monday. So it goes, so it goes.

May you all have scored on Mother’s Day too – whatever your pleasure may be. The night Peter brought home my rug, we had a nice fire in the chiminea, roasted some marshmallows with the boys and drank a bottle of wine. A toast - here’s to you my boogie girls, perhaps you just have a dysfunctional nose like your father? In the meantime we’ll continue to spread our slimy noses around and hope for the best.

Up Next, Win the Lottery

Well it has been a while since I’ve posted, and it isn’t because of being so busy with four tiny children that I can’t see straight. Though that would be a believable excuse to the masses who think we’re crazy. And it isn’t because I’ve had the dreaded case of writer’s block. Everyone who knows me recognizes one of my strengths and my flaws is my ability to always communicate and have an opinion or pondering on something and mostly everything. And there is certainly a lot going on from day to day to chuckle at and share. My inactivity on my blog is more due to an analysis of how much of my life I REALLY want to disclose to the nebulous cyberspace. It will, after all, be around in some archive FOREVER.

See, something that takes your breath away and makes you evaluate your life with a microscope happened to Peter and I. After much contemplation, emotional upheaval and a few discussions with friends, I’ve decided to tell all. I’ve also read that great bloggers speak to the keyboard as if they are having a chat with their sister. I don’t have a sister, only two equally strong-willed brothers, but I’ll give it my best shot.

The short of it is that it turns out that Peter and I can reproduce nearly as well as the Duggars. You know. Those people with like 50 children?

About 4 days after the little ladies joined our lives, Peter visited the urologist and had any necessary plumbing for further procreation snipped. 2 tests later, 6 months later we thought we were good to go. Turns out, we weren’t. While Peter was in Connecticut in March, I was watching Lost reruns after all our angels were in bed. During Lost Sun takes a pregnancy test. As I was sipping my beer witnessing her revelation, I thought, “Hmm….that’s weird…it should be about that time for me.” Sure enough, examination of the calendar disclosed it was definitely time. Past time. A pregnancy test the next day agreed with my calendar.

WHAT!!! How could this happen?! I was shocked, angry, happy, sobbing, everything. Peter and I always said we would take whatever babies were given to us, but after the debacle we went through bringing our girls into the world, we weren’t ready for another episode of “See How Fast the Rossis Can Run.” And yet, through it all Peter was amazing. This crazy man with his over the top OCD, meticulous planning and organized life really rolled with the punches. He made it all okay. He held me and said, “Let’s make room for baby #5!” and he tore into our basement with gusto. Down came the rock wall, out went the old pellet stove and up went the new sheetrock and a new door.

During this pregnancy, while Peter was determinedly holding the world up on his own shoulders, and I was coming to terms with more chaos, I knew something wasn’t right. The whole pregnancy felt different. I know what pregnant feels like. At about eight or nine weeks, at my first checkup, I was miscarrying. I’d never miscarried before, so this was a new experience. Terrifying, heart breaking, and suffering such loss when you didn’t really know what you had. I found myself in surgery the very next morning. I lost Rossi baby number five on April 5th, or at least that is when I was under anesthesia. We had tentative names picked out and a new room in progress, but time marches on and there is certainly little time for a mother of four to be down and out.

It’s been an absolutely wild emotional roller coaster. After all was said and done, we found ourselves contemplating many important questions, such as “How much wine should parents be allowed to consume to work through these issues while still being responsible for their other children?”

In all seriousness, Peter says these memories will make us stronger. And this memory definitely has already. It made our marriage stronger. As good as Peter was through it all, it reinforced a truth that I already know. Peter is a good man, a strong man, and I love this man. An appreciation for life was reignited and we laugh a little more at the silly things. Some other really great things came out of this detour in our life. While we know it in our hearts, we really realized that there is so much love that surrounds us. My family was fabulous. My parents showed up with steaks and wine and said, “Let’s celebrate life!” And we did. My brothers called and we had a good chuckle. My friends were incredible and they brought dinner, fruit, chocolate, flowers, an ear and lots of laughter. We even started the remodeling project on the basement that we've been wanting to do for 3 years!

It hits me below the belt every once in a while. It’s only been about 4 weeks and I’m not quite over the shock, but I look at my four beautiful children and I think, this is really it. These are the gifts I’ve been given and I’m going to be the best mom I can be.

Oh, and Peter and I are playing the lottery these days. Just imagine the odds we’ve overcome! 3 in 1000 pregnancies ends up with identical twins, and the chances of having a vasectomy fail at 6 months? Having these two events happen to the same people, back to back? Who knows the odds, but maybe, just maybe we’ll continue to overcome such wild statistics.

A Lot Tougher, A Lot More Relaxed

Looking back on my years before children, I have to have a good chuckle at myself.  I was pretty darned serious.  I mean - seriously serious.  Every thing in life seemed to need uninhibited attention to detail.  Our house was cleaned every weekend.   I put 200%  into everything I did at work and had little patience for errors (sorry ladies).  Finances in order, check, yard tidied, check, groceries in cupboard, check, all nooks and crannies organized, check.  Okay, NOW we can go out and play.  BORING! 

Carry that into children.  I remember when Samuel had his first Hep B shot and he was only 5 days old.  As the nurse slid that needle into his little chubby thigh, I cried and cried and felt my chest swell with guilt that we are the cause of these little cries of pain.  Four years later, four kids later, one too many sets of immunizations later I took Samuel in for his kindergarten shots and I found myself saying "You'll be alright buddy.  Just think, these hurt a lot less than the actual diseases!"  WOW - did that come out of my mouth?  I should have more sympathy.  Especially for the girls.  And I think - hey sweethearts, I had at least 70 shots and 12 miserable trips to Sioux Falls to bring you into this world, we're not even yet.  I'm teasing!

I remember when Samuel first joined us.  If I had a day where he cried all afternoon, had a bit of vomit and a tantrum or two...my god...it was a HORRIBLE day.  I pondered this recently as Peter called on his way home from work and asked, "How was it today?"  My response was, "Eh, just another day."  As I then truly examined the day, I realized that I woke up to two poopy diaper blow-outs.  The up the back, over the shoulder kind.  Immediately after breakfast Ethan looked at me with the glazed eyes, I swallowed a frog cheeks and proceeded to projectile vomit curdled milk all over my living room carpet.  Samuel had a wicked tantrum because I wouldn't let him play play-doh after just vacuuming for the 50th time that week.  And all day I listened to, "Mommy, can we PUHLEASEE play play-doh?"  Ethan and Samuel had had a huge breakdown fight over who was the privileged party to put the DVD in the player.  A regular occurrence at our house.  And on and on.  And really, it was just another day in a house full of children learning their manners and coordinating play.

I've lightened up quite a bit over the years it appears.  Who cares about deadlines when all we are really worried about are whether or not the next ten minutes are rocking fun?  Consider the things I've actually had a good laugh about (often after I was down having a tantrum of my own). 

• You really can fit an entire roll of toilet paper into the toilet and it expands to astronomical proportions.  Add to that, bathrooms really do flood into the hallway after 5 or so flushes when clogged. 
• Farts and burps are truly the most hysterical things in the entire universe.  The louder the better.  But of course, one must say "excuse me."
• Who really, really cares if the fitted sheets are folded correctly or the wash cloths aren't in perfect little squares?  Samuel gets a nickel for every wash cloth he folds, and we put it away just the way he folds it because he's learning.  And it is sure fun to have help.
• Sleeping through the night experts forget that your sweet little babies teeth, have fevers, get growth spurts, require shots, and never sleep after a trip anywhere.
• Who needs the silverware in the proper place?  Spoons fit nicely in the fork slot.
• Linen closets are the best places in the world to hide.  Especially if you unload EVERY thing from the closet into the hallway first.
• Bubbles are great fun smeared on the mirror and across the island.
• Plant dirt is perfect for playing construction.
• There are even days when....wait for it...wait for it....my bed doesn't get made!

And of course the most important lesson is that bad things happen when you leave the room for five minutes and if it is quiet, you are about to be in over your head.

So dear 20-year old Sabrina - lighten up.  Dear 25-year old Sabrina - go travel some more and oh yeah, lighten up!  Dear 30-year old Sabrina - looking better - only 2.5 more years and your give a damn will be pretty much busted.  But you'll have a lot more fun.  Oh and psst...the chocolate is hidden above the pantry behind the apple juice.

How it Goes

It is a new week and we survived Peter's absence to Connecticut.  Ethan and Samuel both had head colds that cleared in a normal pattern with coughing, sneezing, and being miserable and ornery little buggers for the allotted three days.  The girls progressed in a much more aggressive fashion with all the same symptoms, but crying and crying for days and being up all night.  Nina's illness resulted in an ear infection in her right ear.  Noting she was in pain, I tried to give her oral Tylenol on two occasions, but her extra sensitive gag-reflex left her lunch on my lap.  Lovely 'eh?  Those are green peas mixed with formula and stomach bile gracing my front.  We're on day three of antibiotics now.  God bless hot pink amoxicillin.


Ode to Aunt Lisa who stopped in and supplied us with chocolate and laughter for the boys.  Hooray for grandma, my mom, who arrived after Lisa left and held and snuggled sobbing babies.  Couldn't have done it without two of my favorite ladies.  Thanks Lisa and Mom!

A Little Foolish

If one fails to learn from something over and over, we call them unteachable. If one does the same thing and they get the same result, and they continue down this path, it is lunacy. We call them stupid, we call them crazy. I'm beginning to think I fit that description when it comes to waving Peter out the door for this trip or that trip. Knowing what I know, I'm definitely cracked.

So I was feeling bad for Peter around the end of December because he was way over-babied. In his defense it does take the patience of a saint to wake up to babies, go to sleep with babies and do everything baby and toddler between. Particularly for a man who loves kids, but struggles with anything prior to about 18 months. With Samuel and Ethan he changed diapers, gave baths, fed them solids and held them often. But if a wail ensued, I found the baby back in my arms. With the girls, he didn't really have a choice and for the first 4 months of their lives he took the first shift and was left alone to deal with all their needs from 8 pm to about 1 am every day. I was seeing the stress around his eyes and in his response to situations. Feeling generous, I offered that for his 36th birthday, I'd send him on a trip. The rationale behind this generosity was that the girls would be around 6 months old, they'd be eating some solids, they should mostly be sleeping through the night. We'd be a-okay!

But I forgot that I'm cursed. It is inevitable that when Peter goes anywhere, the children get sick. Take these examples.

1. In November of 2007, when Samuel was 8 months old, Peter had a business trip and Samuel ended up with 9 days of vomiting and diarrhea due to rotovirus. Ssomething they vaccinate against now.
2. In April of 2009 when Ethan was 11 months old, Peter's closest childhood friend's father passed away, so Peter traveled back to Connecticut for the funeral. I said, "Go, go. Ethan is just teething...that is why he is running a fever. We'll be fine!" Ha! Two days later, during a South Dakota spring blizzard I was sitting in a hospital. 2 year old Samuel was jumping on the bed and Ethan was completely dehydrated, lethargic and on an IV with wicked antibiotics for bacteremia (a blood poisoning) and once hydrated again developed viral pneumonia.
3. Later when Peter joined the fire department and had to travel to training in Cody WY for fire school, we had a second round of rotovirus in our lives. I was sicker than sick, Samuel's body expulsions lasted about 4 days, and Ethan sat around grinning at all of us, because he had been vaccinated for this evil bug.

And the list goes on and on. Whether it is a quick two day trip or a week long adventure, we end up with anything from minor head colds to hospitalizations. I don't tempt fate before he leaves and make the children lick shopping carts at the local Wal-mart or dip them in the swimming pool and say "drink up!" So why does this happen to me?

To complicate matters, lately the rule has been not only do the children get sick, but What can go wrong will go wrong if Peter is out of town. Take his last business trip in January to New Orleans. Not only did all the children develop a nasty illness, but the van stopped working because a non-ignition switch seat heater drained the battery, the temperatures dropped to 19 below, and the pellet stove malfunctioned filling the house with smoke. The second, or maybe third night (who remembers in my delirium), Nina was up all night sobbing. My mother happened to be here to help on that trip and she stayed up for the 3 am to 6 am shift. The next night, Jocelyn did the same. Thank goodness, by then Peter was home and let me go to bed. Somewhere in the middle of Peter's sojourn I was either outside moving car seats from vehicle to vehicle, charging a battery, or dismantling much of the pellet stove and carrying out buckets of smoldering pellets. It was delightful. But the man came home and this prairie woman had it all together and in working order with rosy-cheeked children.

Why the ranting and raving now? Peter is on that 36th birthday trip for 6 days to Connecticut. We're at the beginning of day 3 and guess what? All four children and mom are coughing and hacking, sneezing with dripping noses, sleep deprived and running fevers. I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop. Remembering why Peter shouldn't go anywhere. Noting that I am indeed a lunatic.