Mondays.

Today started off just like any other Monday.  The one day Mason sleeps in,  so no time for a leisurely breakfast before gym class.  Just time for coffee or orange juice and a bagel.  Now time to sit on the potty before we get into our clothes and head out the door.  Mason, shockingly told me he had to pee so I was hopeful sitting him on the potty this time.  While waiting I noticed that his band-aids on his knee were looking kinda grungy so probably needed to come off.  Rip!  The scrape was healing but Mason wanted new band-aids.   This is when things took a turn.

Picking out the right band-aids, McQueen, Sally and Mater, I put them on and suddenly Mason started to cry and freak out.  He reached for me and said he wanted of the potty.  I picked him up and then he all of a sudden went limp on me.  I tried to get him to stand up all the while asking him what was wrong.  No response.  I looked down at him and his eyes were wide but had an "out of it" look to them and his lips were devoid of all color.  

"Mason!  Mason!"  I shouted.  Nothing.

My freak out begins.  Fear taking over, my first thought is he is having some kind of seizure.  Then I panic because I don't know what to do in this situation.  

"Mason!"  Finally he responds.  Looking at me, then acting as if he is going to throw up.  Still a bit lethargic I try to hold him over the toilet.  Then he goes limp again. 

"Mason!  Are you ok?  You're scaring me.  Mason!  Do you need to throw up?  Mason!"

I begin to cry.  

He responds, "I'm fine.  I'm fine."  But I don't believe him.

He is so lethargic and acting like he is going to throw up again.  I call Fred in a panic, crying.  He tells me to take him to the hospital, because me being 7 months pregnant my mind is already not functioning at full capacity; but faced with my baby boy having trauma I am suddenly as dumb as a door nail.  All common sense and rationality out the window.  My mind is blank, yet a million things are running through it at the same time all jumbled in a frantic mess.  

I run into the family room and lay Mason down on the couch to get some clothes on him.  This is when I notice his lips are turning blue.  OH SHIT, he can't breathe!!!  My baby boy can't breathe!!!  Please God NO!!!  Grasping at straws I ask him, "Mason can you breathe?"  He looks at me and takes a small breathe in.  A sigh of relief and quickly get him dressed and run out the door.  No coats, no shoes.  Just the diaper bag, throw him in the car seat, buckle us in and race down the driveway. 

Now of course in all Mason fashion he starts to act fine.  Talking cohesively to me about wanting to go to gym class and pointing out the mini loaders and other construction machines on the road.  We arrive at the ER, carrying all his 32lbs. with my overly expanding belly and extra poundage and best I can, and notice his lips are now rosy.  Of course as soon as we get to the hospital he fine.  But I check him in anyway just to make sure.  

Once the doctor saw him, he said he thinks he heard a heart murmur and is ordering a EKG just in case and also going to contact a pediatric neurologist and cardiologist.  He says there are a lot of things that could have caused his episode and wants to rule out the more dangerous ones. It might have been a seizure, or some abnormality with his heart, or simply that he just freaked out and then passed out because of it.  I was trying so hard to pay attention to everything he was saying.   Thank god Fred showed up at this point.  He asked all the questions and heard it all too.  

Mason was trouper during the EKG, laying still and being so brave.  The nurse gave him a bunny rabbit as a prize for being so good.  The results came back fine.  Phew!  No fever, blood pressure fine and muscle reaction normal.  But just in case he wanted us to see the neurologist and cardiologist as soon as possible anyway.   We are all hoping this was just a one time episode and nothing is seriously wrong.  Seeing as how Mason was jumping on the bed, laughing and playing catch with the bunny at this point; we all have reason to believe that this was not serious and probably won't happen again.  We are seeing the cardiologist on Wednesday morning and waiting to get in touch with the Neurologist for an appointment sometime tomorrow.  

In the meantime, we need to monitor Mason and if he has another episode to bring him back to the ER.  So far he is normal.  Playing with his trains and watching Max and Ruby.  Asking me all kinds of questions over and over and begging for more orange juice.  

As for me, my heart rate has slowed.  My panic mode has been shut off and I am in desperate need of another cup of coffee and a good nap.  I'm exhausted from all this emotional turmoil and just want to fall in a heap on the floor and cry my eyes out.  Terrified for my little boy but at the same time reassuring myself that nothing is wrong and he is fine.  Nervous that something will go wrong with this baby or myself if I don't try to relax and get some rest.  I know this sounds really crazy but I kind of feel that in order to have Mason I had to lose Zeke and now I fear that in order to have Sophie I will have to lose Mason.  That is crazy right?

Maybe my neuroses will go away once she is born and I'm feeling more "myself."  But I doubt it.   

Bugged out

Not sure how it started this time.  Usually it begins with me seeing a spider (or nasty bug), screaming my head off, Fred running to my rescue thinking I'm dying only to find out it's just a little bug, then him getting upset at me for acting like a lunatic.   This ultimately results in the periodic conversation about my "irrational fears," according to Fred.  Namely my fear of spiders and most things buggy.  

This particular time we were in the car on the way home from Lowe's, no bugs in site that I recall. Fred was mentioning that we should go to the zoo and see the spider exhibit.  My response was a hysterical, "HELL NO!  They are all crawling free in there.  Are you crazy!?"  Fred just rolls his eyes and tells me not to push my fears onto Mason.  I give a stern look, knowing that I am just trying to protect my child from the blood sucking horrors that are nasty creepy ass spiders.  Fred of course tries to assure me that the exhibit is perfectly safe, but deep down I am not convinced.  He tells me that my payback will be Mason will growing up to be some kind of a spider connoisseur.  I tell him that he won't be into spiders if we don't expose him to them.  Now home he is taking Mason's jacket off and tells him in a jokingly sort of tone, "Mommy's bugged out by buggy stuff."  Mason erupts into laughter.  The full belly laugh that causes him to suffer from hiccups for the next 20 minutes.  Fred continues to repeat the phrase with Mason cracking up each time.  I can't help laughing at Mason's belly laugh but I am so NOT AMUSED by their enjoyment at my expense.  

It's getting late so we head up stairs for the nightly routine.  

Sit on potty.

Brush teeth.

Put on night time pull-up and P.J.'s

Get ba-ba

Climb into bed and read a book.

Halfway up the stairs Mason starts to repeat Fred's hysterical phrase.  It comes out, "bug out my buggy stuff."  Fred is laughing.  All through reading The Going to Bed Book by Sandra Boynton, Mason is repeating the phrase.  Fred trying to hold it together and me ready to just walk out of the room.   

Now heading downstairs after putting Mason to bed I seethe to Fred in a loud whisper, "You are an evil, evil person!"  He looks shocked exclaming, "WHAT!  It's not my fault he finds that funny."  Then from somewhere upstairs I hear a little voice repeating, "bug out my buggy stuff.  Bug out my buggy stuff."  I instantly snap my head in Fred's direction, eyes wide as I can make them and point up the stairs.  Fred is in hysterics, he can't help it.   

I admit it was a bit amusing, but I was not ready to give up my annoyance of the fact that my husband was encouraging our son to make fun of me.  He tells me that the Briggs family tradition continues.  He is referring to his awful brother who, in high school, used to find spiders in their basement and save them for when I came over just so he could terrorize me.  I turn to leave when Fred stops me, seeing that I am started to get mad.  "Hey I am just trying to give you something to blog about babe."  Gee honey, thanks so much for thinking of me.  

The following morning, at the butt crack of dawn, Mason comes walking into our bedroom and climbs into bed with us.  After a few moments what do you think I heard?

"Mommy, bug out by buggy stuff!"  *Fred silently trying to hide his chuckle*

Thanks guys.  I love you both too!!!

Thomas and Friends

About a year ago I saw on someone's blog that they took close up photos of their son's toys and then hung them up in his room.  I had always thought this was an ingenious idea and wanted to do something like that for Mason.  I had filed the idea away in my projects folder and moved on.

Mason's room is decorated in the theme of Disney Pixars Cars. He loves Cars!!!  The only full length movie he has sat through.  While he loves his cars he has developed a second obsession; Thomas the Engine.  He has a lot of Thomas videos and wants every freaking train from the collection.  Grandma of course, spoils him by getting him a new train every Sunday when he visits (I think he has like 15 at her house now).  He did get a few for his second birthday and I am guilty of indulging my son with a few trains here and there.  My justification for doing so; they are on sale or I have a 50% coupon from A.C. Moore (which has come to be known as the choo-choo store).  Now he has about 10-12 trains here at home as well and he can name each and every one of them.  He can even name the ones I have never heard of before.  Realizing Thomas and Friends is consuming our lives and my house, I thought it would be nice for Mason to have a bit of Thomas in his room to display.  *Light bulb goes off*  Ah, ha!!  The project I filed away racing to my mind.  Wouldn't it be awesome if I did a photo collage of his favorite trains and hung them in his room.

Excited about my new project, I waste not time setting up a mock photo shoot of  Mason's Thomas trains.  I set my camera to the macro setting, set them up with a neutral background and some good lighting and shot away.  Mason even got into it, handing me train after train to photograph.  Once finished and downloaded onto my computer, I cropped and converted each one to black and white and bought some cheap frames in various sizes (4x6, 5x7, 8x10).  I then resized each photo, printed them out, cut and framed them.  Messing around with the orientation for awhile I finally decided on the perfect arrangement.  Enlisting the help of my handy dandy husband we got them all hung up.  Voila!


(The collage as it hangs on his wall)


(A close up of some of the photos)  

I am rather impressed with myself.  I think it turned out awesome.  Better than I expected.  Now I am really inspired to do more projects.  I have the next one in the works already for the half bath.  Stay tuned for the results!!

Scary Guy

Mason has been rambling about this "Scary Guy" for like a week now. He doesn't want to go downstairs alone in the morning anymore because "scary guy" is down there. Or he'll just randomly mention "scary guy" while playing and I'm all jumping up, running from window to window expecting to see some lunatic lurking outside my house. I'm starting to have nightmares that there is this scary guy stalking my house and going to kill us or something.

Then Mason mentions that "scary guy" is in his kitchen. He has one of those play kitchens from Step 2. So now I am wondering what could be scaring him in his kitchen, nothing comes to mind. Then he mentions "scary guy" is in his food. WTF!! So I'm totally confused but still freaked that we have someone peeping in our windows in the early part of day or when I am not around and terrorizing my son. But I'm remaining calm for the sake of Mason. To show him that, even though I have no idea if I am full of shit, there is nothing to be scared of. That there is no "scary guy." Or maybe I am just trying to convince myself.

Either way, it has been resolved. Last night while reading books to Mason, Fred figured it out. We have a bunch of Snappy pop up books that he was given for birthdays and one is called "Snappy Sounds." It is about Halloween and has a picture of a ghost on the cover. Mason pulls it out, points to the ghost and says, "scary guy." Jesus Christ, you have got to be kidding me. THIS is the "scary guy" he's been referring to? THIS is the "scary guy" that has caused me sleepless nights and constant paranoia?

Totally relieved I won't have to call the cops for protection or beg Fred to get the security system that is hooked up to every freaking window and door on the house activated, I ask myself, "What the hell is wrong with my child?" Why did he have to freak the ever living crap out of me over a stupid picture of a ghost on a book. *exasperated sigh* Because he is a child, and that is what children do. Freak out their parents until the day we die.

Mason's Baby Album

So I said I would post layouts from Mason's Baby Album that I finally finished.  So here they are in a slide show.  Enjoy!!

Pet Peeve #6

So a big pet peeve of mine are mothers (or fathers) who use the park as "social" time and neglect to actually parent their child(ren).  

Today is one of those freaky warm days before it heads back into the chilly blustering winter cold, and like most people took advantage of it.  To the park we go. 

Mason always runs full steam ahead when arriving at the park.  He knows what he likes and he goes for it.  Up the ramp and down the slide.  Then he sees the fire truck, one of his favorites, and climbs aboard.  Well there are about 4 girls already on it, I am guessing kindergarten age. This does not concern me cause Mason has never run into a problem on the fire truck with other kids.  That is until these girls.  

It's obvious they don't like playing with boys.  They shout, "ew, there's a boy getting on." Mason ignores them, like he should, and goes to play.   Well the girls don't like this.  They don't let him get to anything.  Dissapointed and not understanding what he did wrong, Mason climbs off and heads to something else.  But he keeps eyeing the truck.  He turns to me and says, "Mommy, I want to go on fire truck."  As if he is looking for my permission.  I of course give it to him because is no reason he can't.  There is plenty of room for all of them share.  So he tries again. This time the girls get a bit nastier.  They tell him to "go away" and that he can't play on it.  They push him away saying, "stop, it's mine."  I see the hurt and confusion on his face.  He tries one more time to play but they keep pushing him and I am about to intervene when Mason decides to get off and once again play on something else.  

Now here I am thinking my son is only 2 years old and handled that situation like an adult.  Not pushing back, not saying nasty things, just walking away.  What disturbs me about it though are the girls moms, sitting only a few feet away, observing the whole thing and doing nothing.  They let their kindergardeners push my little toddler around as if it is acceptable.  Now maybe I am making a bigger deal out of it than it is but it's not he first time things like this have happen at the park.  

Other times Mason will have just gone down the slide, not yet off and an older kid comes barreling down it, not checking to see if anyone is still on it, and slams right into my son.  Does the kid apologize?  No, he just runs off.   Does the parent correct him?  No.  They aren't paying attention.  Their Starbucks and gossip are way more appealing.  Another time Mason was climbing the stairs to the slide, when two older girls come running up behind him and try pushing past him, telling him it is their turn and get out of the way.  Where are their parents telling them to wait their turn?  Backs to the playground, gabbing away.  It's frustrating.  

Maybe I am the only one who actually gives a crap and pays attention to my child as he is playing.  To make sure he is not only being safe and polite but hasn't wandered off and been kidnapped.   If I see him acting inappropriately I immediately correct his behavior and remind him that if he can't be polite or share we will have to leave the park.  I mean, honestly is this too much to ask of a parent?  Now I am not expecting kids to behave at all times, Mason surely doesn't.  It's just human nature.  But that doesn't give us the right to fall asleep at the parenting wheel.  Children (and some adults even) need constant reminders of what is and is not appropriate behavior. With consistent practice and acceptance of our own actions, as well as the consequences that result, only then can we become mature individuals.  This is the point of parents.  To teach our children this concept.  Duh!

I just worry about the effect it will have on Mason's self esteem, being constantly bullied by other kids.  I desperately want to jump in to scold and lecture these children when I see them acting so rude and mean to my son, but I have a hard time with disciplining other people's children.  There is a boundary; and I'm not one to temp crossing it, especially since some people are very particular about someone else disciplining their child, even if they don't.  So I try to teach him to not take crap from the other kids.   Such as, not letting them take toys out of his hands, etc.  But in teaching him to stand up for himself I struggle with the thought that he might bully others in the process not understanding that fine line.  *sigh*

My point;  basically wake the hell up and be a freaking parent.  There are no vacations or "lunch breaks" in the world of parenthood.  

A little bit of Justice

Last night while I was eating dinner and on the phone with my sister Mason wanted some jelly beans.  He only gets those for peeing on the potty so I told him to ask daddy to take him.  A few minutes later I heard Fred scream in disgust.  Apparently Mason was holding "it" down,  like he had been taught and somehow aimed upward instead of in the toilet and my unsuspecting husband who thought he was safe by standing to the side got sprayed by our son's excellent range.  LOL.  I know it's mean to laugh but I spent Mason's entire babyhood either being peed or pooped on and Fred would laugh or make fun of me not understanding how I let that happen to myself.   Well now you know babe.  I spent most of the night in stitches over the whole thing and probably rubbed it in more than I should have.  Sorry honey that you got peed on, I feel for you, but you have to admit it is pretty funny.  

Baby Update

Dr. Tudder said everything was fine. His explanation: it's like when you have a nose bleed in the winter because the air is dry. Who knew our womanly organs were so much like the inner workings of our nostrils.

Well I am now down to my two week appointments, yay! Good, because I won't have to wait so long to see my doctor in between visits when I have my neurotic freak outs that something is horribly wrong. So far, I feel like a human punching bag only being beaten from the inside. My stomach, though it make look small is only an illusion, feels as if I swallowed a whale. Round ligament pain doesn't begin to describe the lower abdomen pain I've been feeling on an hourly if not minute basis. Of course it doesn't help that I am constantly bending over again and again to pick up little toddler toys that somehow magic get strewn across every floor surface. Since my contractions at the hospital I've been downing water (and other juices) as if we are about to go on a drought at any moment and henceforth I am spending more time in the bathroom than any other room in the house. Though most times I am feeling my bladder will explode only to sit on the potty and nothing happen!! Just the other day Mason was observing my potty time and told me that I could have jelly beans because I peed in the potty. Hmmm, am I being potty trained or is he? I can't tell anymore. Whoever designed the whole pregnancy scheme was seriously disturbed. Because honestly it is not amusing to be an adult and have to carry a change of clothes with you on the off chance you might sneeze, or laugh too hard causing you to pee on yourself. How lack of bladder control has anything to do with nurturing this baby from the womb I will never comprehend. I have started to swell and though I am not able to see for myself, I'm sure the dreaded blue twinkies have appeared. As if this wasn't enough TMI, my boobs feel as if they are constantly being squeezed by a vice and the slightest touch causes me to flip my switch into bitch mode.

Needless to say I am so over the nostalgia of creating life and counting down the days till this agony is finally over.

"By far the most common craving of pregnant women is not to be pregnant." ---Phyllis Diller

Amen!!!

A big scare

So our beautiful weekend was spoiled on Sunday afternoon when we discovered a pretty significant amount of blood had escaped my body.  Naturally I freaked out but calmly had Fred call the doctor as we prepared to head to the hospital, sure these were the instructions that would be given.  Sure enough halfway there, the on call doctor returned our call and told me to head in.  We arrived around 2:30pm.  I was feeling light-headed and slightly cramping.  Fred wheeled me to labor and delivery where I was put into a triage room for observation.   The bleeding had stopped (yay!) and they hooked me up to the machines to monitor the baby's heartbeat.  

About an hour or so later I started to feel a tightness in my stomach that would ripple up and then disappear.  This would happen every so often and I had my suspicions they were contractions.  When the nurse came in to check on me and let me know she finally got ahold of the current doctor on call and that she had ordered a blood test and ultrasound, I let her know about the tightness.  She checked the paper and monitors and sure enough I was having contractions.  She proceeded to give me water to drink in the hopes it would calm them down and I wouldn't need an IV.  I was starving at this point, not having eaten anything since breakfast so the nurse said she would order me a dinner tray after my tests.  

By about 4:30pm I was getting my sonogram.  Everything was looking good.  They thought maybe it was a low lying placenta that caused the bleeding but after an internal look it showed to be in the right place as well as my cervix being long and closed as it should be.  Phew!  Great news.  But we still had to wait for the doctor to go over the results of my blood and urine tests and sonogram to know for sure and couldn't be discharged till she saw me.  

Upon arriving back to my room, my dinner was waiting.  It wasn't the best meal, after all we were in the hospital and everyone knows hospital food sucks, but I was starving so I dug in. Now we were in wait mode.  And wait we did.  I was getting so bored off my ass at this point, no longer worried that this baby was dying or going to be born prematurely that day.  All I wanted to do was to get out of there, have a decent meal and be home.  The bed was so uncomfortable and I had limited moving capability due to the monitors strapped to my belly.  There was no T.V. in the room, and unaware that I would stuck in the hospital for an excrutiating number of hours, had not grabbed myself a book to read either.  I was left to desperation and the only thing available; Fred's mustang magazine.  

Not sure when we'd be discharged I called my mom, who was watching Mason, and told her we had two options.  Being that is was close to 7pm, we could either keep Mason up hoping that we get out soon and then bring him home or if he falls asleep soon to just have him stay there the night and I'd come get him first thing in the morning since both my parents work.  At around 8:15pm my mom called us to say Mason would be staying the night.  His little voice got on the phone, "Hi Mommy."  I felt a pang in my heart.  He excitedly told me about his day; the big chalk outside, his clothes getting dirty then cleaned by grandma, how he ate all his sandwich so he was now having animal crackers,  that pop-pop was asleep and now he was going night-night at grandma's.  I was biting my lip so I would not burst into tears. For some reason hearing his voice made me instantly sad and miss him terribly.  It could have been the tragedy we luckily avoided with the baby but all I wanted was to hold him close and know that my family was safe. After saying our good-byes I hung up and desperately wanted to be home.

A little after 8:30pm our doctor finally arrived.  She checked in on another patient first, then chit chatted at the nurses station before finally coming in to see us.  She confirmed what the nurses had been saying.  Ultrasound showed everything fine, heartbeat was great, the bleeding had stopped as did the contractions.  So, she couldn't explain what caused the bleeding but that there was no cause for concern anymore.  I needed to call Dr. Tudder to let him know what happened, I have my next checkup and glucose test scheduled for Wednesday already with him. I suppose we now wait to hear what Dr.  Tudder says about the whole ordeal and if I need to be put on any restrictions. 

By 9pm I was dressed and we were heading home.  By 10pm we were thankful to be in our own bed and getting some much needed sleep.  

If anything really good came out of the whole experience we got the official confirmation on the ultrasound that it is definitely a girl, no doubt.   For sure though, I will be totally paranoid about every, twinge, pang, grumble and movement I feel.  Don't think that will go away till the day she born.  It will be a long 3 months till then but for now I will try to take it as easy as possible and hope for the best.  

75 degrees and loving it

It was a beautiful sunny, warm day (finally) and Mason and I were desperate to get out of the house. Fred had never been to the park with us so it was an extra treat to have him there. Our first family outing in a very long time. The dinosaur park, just down the road from our house, is Mason's favorite of the two big ones in our area. It is huge with four play scape areas, two sets of swings, a fire truck, numerous ride on animals, and a pavillion. All set in a wooded area with a trail leading to local neighborhoods. It is kind of tucked away down a tiny street sandwiched between an elementary school and a residential neighborhood. I drove right by it a million times not knowing of its existence till one day a friend opened my eyes and showed me the way. Now life is never the same.

Never having been on a weekend I wasn't entirely sure what to expect but was shocked to see how packed it was. We struggled to find a parking space let alone time on the swings. I was practically getting run over every few seconds by some rambunctious child in a hurry to get to the next thing. Mason did have a blast on the swings, when it one was free. He'd been asking to swing since 9am. Only daddy could push and Mason wasn't happy when I stepped in to get a photo of us (since I never get photos of him and I together because I'm always behind the camera).

After some more running around, going down slides and wanting to swing again but one wasn't free, I suggest we take a walk on the trail before getting lunch. Mason, loving trails these days thanks to Grandma Sundays, loved the idea. I'd never been on the trail but always wondered where it lead after seeing so many people coming and going on it over the months of spending time there. It just leads through some wooded area to other neighborhoods. The cool attractions were the two bridges over a creek. Mason loves water, throwing rocks in it and looking for fishes. Unfortunately there were no fishes in this creek but Mason enjoyed leaning over the railings and watching the water anyway.

1 hour and 30 minutes after our arrival we finally made it to the car, hungry and ready for lunch, only to hear Mason begging to go down for a nap. So I suggested Fred and I stop at Potbelly's (LOVE THIS PLACE, ate there every weekend while renovating the house for 6 months) to grab some quick food to go. When we arrived home, Mason was looking sufficiently pathetic and went right to sleep. Gotta love the park, it wears him out every time.

Fred took a nap as well and I was able to enjoy the sun and a good book out on our deck.

Naps over, Fred took Mason out on his tractor till the battery died. So it was kicking the ball around and throwing and playing in the dirt till we were excessively dirty and the sun was going to bed. After a traumatic bath (for some reason Mason is now terrified of the bath that he used to love and refuse to vacate even when shivering and turning blue) we Skyped with Nana, Uncle David, Aunt Melissa and their baby Henry. Gave them a virtual tour of our house then ordered pizza for dinner, per Mason's request.

After our newly established nightly ritual of Mason asking for every Thomas engine he owns to join him in bed and me having to kiss every single one along with his two lovies and cuddles, he finally goes down to bed. Now I can enjoy uninterrupted time on my computer to blog.

Phew! Just another day, but oh so glad it wasn't snowing and I didn't need to bundle up like I was in the arctic just to check the mail.

Something to look forward to...

I am uber excited about this new class at Big Picture Scrapbooking that will be taught by Cathy Zielske.  Being an addict to facebook this is right up my alley.  Plus I am desperately trying to get back into scrapbooking on a daily if not weekly or at least monthly basis.  Ok lets say on a more frequent basis to be fair and not put all this un-needed pressure on me in my current state.  My big hang up with Scrapbooking is the journaling.  Which is rather funny, since you can always find me writing in my journal or on my blog.  But honestly when it comes to my scrapbooks I freeze up.  I feel like what I write has to be PERFECT.  There it is again, that horrible word that plagues my existence.  I'm not sure why, because the only ones who actually see the damn things are family and maybe a few friends.  Are they honestly going to look through them, read what I've said and point out all my grammatical errors or tell me that what I wrote was lame?  Well, maybe some of them might but that is besides the point.  The reason for the scrapbook is to document life.  My life, my children's lives, so that we have something to look back on 20, 30, 40 years from now.  Will it honestly matter that I didn't use the right punctuation or that I misspelled a word?  Probably not.  So I need to learn to let go of the perfectionist in me that says it all has to be "just right" in order to make it onto my layouts and in my albums.  Hence the class at BPS.  The point of it all is to take those snippets, the bits and pieces of my life that get posted in the status bar and use them as ways to journal.  Because after all that is what I am doing.  Recording my authentic life for every one of my friends on Facebook to see.  And isn't that what the journaling on our pages is meant to do?  Convey a record of that particular moment in our lives so we will remember it forever.  

Anyway, I talk to much and the little one I think is actually asleep (thank god).  It only took him like an hour.  Not sure why he fought it cause he was up at 6:30am.  I would have thought that by 2pm he'd be exhausted.  Especially after a trip to McDonalds where he ran around on the playground for like 30 minutes.  The point is that I am going to update my status on Facebook and have some "me" time while it's still available.  

No more Monkeys jumping on the couch

So our little game of paper throwing seems to have turned tragic. Last night while having a good time with some new paper, Mason was jumping off the couch rather than sliding off. We don't usually allow him to jump off the couch (or on it for that matter) but I was supervising and he was having one last hurrah before bedtime. I guess I should have gone with my instinct and made him stop jumping because the last time he jumped off he immediately sat down and started crying. He told me his foot hurt and showed me where and had me kiss it. When he stood up to get daddy from the basement I noticed he was limping toward the door. I immediately got concerned and called to him. He turned around and I saw the pain on his face. It broke my heart. Crying he hobbled back to me where I cuddled him in my arms trying to comfort him while calling for Fred. We both looked his foot over for bruising or swelling. Nothing. Play time was over. We did our best to put some ice on his foot, but if you have a small child you know it isn't easy, gave him some tylenol and put him to bed. I prayed he would be better in the morning.

Morning came and Mason woke up way too early. As I opened his door he immediately, without my prompting or asking, said his foot hurt. He would not stand or walk on it and begged to be carried. I can't really carry him, so he has taken to crawling around when Fred is not here. We of course became even more concerned. Mason can be a bit of a drama queen but he isn't one to complain like this. We knew he wasn't faking it and that it must be really hurting. A call to the doctors and off we went. Turns out nothing is broken. Phew. Just a sprain. He will need to stay off it as much as possible and we should try to ice it when he is resting. It should heal on it's own in a couple of days. Children are resilient and he will probably heal faster than we expect. Much to my relief. Not sure I would be able to handle weeks of his begging to be carried and me unable to do so. He is already attempting to do some standing on it and a little bit of walking; favoring the right foot and trying to walk on his heal instead, obvious that it still hurts.

I guess I should be thankful this is his first injury though it won't be his last. Especially if he is anything like his father. Need to start singing the song with "no more monkeys jumping on the couch either."