Toofless No More!

I remember it so clearly.

It was a Sabbath afternoon. We were all sitting around chatting after lunch and I was entering into the nap haze. After all, I was nearly 7 months pregnant and there were 3 other capable adults in the house! I'd already blocked off both staircase and stairwell from toddler access and my mind was at ease.

And then it happened.

The fall, the crash, the cry, the blood pouring from his mouth, the shrieking (that would be me).

At first I thought very little of the blood, thinking he had likely sunk a few teeth all the way through his little lip. It wasn't until the biggest of the sobs had faded away that there was this sudden, horrible moment of realization:

His front tooth...was MISSING!

Completely gone.

Nothing but a gaping hole there in his smile.

Not that he was smiling. Nor was I, for that matter.

And then my the sobs started back up again.

I'd like to say it was a very brief episode of maternal pregnant hormones but that would not capture the very essence of 30 minutes gut-wrenching sobs that erupted from my big 'ole pregnant self, now would it?

*sigh*

While I was busy comforting myself Joshua on my lap, someone decided to call the dentist.

"Put it back IN!", the dentist declared.

Um, okay?, I thought as I glanced back and forth between my baby's mouth and the tooth with the really long root.



We tried.

We did.

I know, right?! Looking back it stands as a painful memory of a dumb-parent moment.

It went most of the way in, but short of hammering it back into place, there was no way it was going to stay in. It sat there a quarter inch lower than the other tooth for about 10 minutes before we decided perhaps we should get a second opinion.

We called another dentist.

"Pull it back OUT!" the second dentist said.

Hmmm...

The tooth popped out into my hand like it was intending to do so anyway at some random time and get itself swallowed while we least expected it.

"It will heal over and he'll get his permanent tooth through in about 5 years or so.", explained Dentist #2. (translate: the bone will heal over and it will take the tooth an exceptionally long time to push its way through that to the gum!)

WHAT?!?! FIVE YEARS?!, I thought. Surely it won't take that long for his permanent tooth to drop down.

Or...

Maybe it will.

First toofless pic after The Incident

And so it did. Plus several a few extra months!

Well, HELLO! Mr. Toofer. Glad to FINALLY make your acquaintance!

Grandpa

On Friday afternoon, just after we left the church where Joshua had been preparing his little sermon, Colby received a phone call from his mother telling us that his Grandpa Hershey had passed away.

It was "expected"; he had fought his pancreatic cancer hard.

But there is never really a way to "expect" a goodbye like this, is there?

Until we meet again, when we hear the voice of Jesus calling us home, thank you Grandpa, for playing such a vital role in Colby's life, for bringing Grandma into our lives, and for enjoying your great-grandchildren SO much!

"Duane William Hershberger, 76, died Friday, July 1st, 2011 at his home in Kalkaska, Michigan, surrounded by his loving family, following a courageous fight against cancer. He was born on September 23rd, 1934, and raised in Fairview, Michigan, the son of Levi Miller and Elva Mae (Oaks) Hershberger

He is survived by his wife of 10 years, Jacqueline (Bergdoll Frey) Hershberger; his children Michael Duane Hershberger (Kim) of Kalkaska, MI.; Gail Hollee Macomber (Gary) of Cicero, IN.; Mitchell Wayne Hershberger (Nan) of Mancelona, MI; Gaye Erie Brueggeman (Lloyd) of Williamsburg, MI; Wendi Lea Hudson of Shelby Township, MI; and Jodi Lynn Crandall (Gary) of Clarkston, MI; two brothers, Lotus Dean Hershberger of Normal, IL. (Judy) and Virgil Stanwyn Hershberger (Margaret) of Fairview, MI; 16 grandchildren and 10 great grandchildren, all of whom he dearly loved.

Duane was preceded in death by his parents; a brother, Lyle Bernell Hershberger; a granddaughter, Crystal Hershberger; and his first wife of 47 years, Lydia (Bailey) Hershberger. He graduated from Fairview High School in 1953 and worked in farming until December, 1971, when he was employed by Northwood Transport, Inc in Kalkaska as a driver, in sales, and as a dispatcher. He retired after 26 years on January 2nd, 1998.

Duane was loved dearly by his entire family and many friends. He will be missed greatly but is resting in peace now, awaiting the coming of his Lord and Savior to take him to his final home.

A memorial service is planned for Sunday, July 17th at 3:30 pm at the Kalkaska Funeral Home, 152 S. Cedar St., Kalkaska, MI."

The Offending Sliver

The offending sliver!

So most of you know a week ago little Layna went in for a little trip to the operating room. Full-blown, general anesthesia, operating room, surgical procedure.

The whole thing seemed a little...dramatic... for a sliver, don't you think?

I mean, she'd already had that thing in there for a MONTH. Seems like they could have just numbed it up with a local and yanked the thing out of there, right?

Nope, apparently not. Seems the infection that had been festering for so long without being able to move it toward the skin it needed to be washed out. Even with the ultrasound to let the good doc know where it was he still had to fish around in there a while to get it out.

Nicely embedded, in other words.

For some reason, whenever Elayna would talk about her "poisonous pus" I would think of that scene in Summer Magic where Hayley Mills tells "Miss Julia" about the wildlife in the backwoods near the Yellow House in Beulah. "Snakes?", Julia asks. "Oh naturally.", answers Nancy (Mills) "But only about 1 out of 10 is poisonous, so when we get bit we just have a slug of whiskey." "Even Peter!", adds brother Gill.

And then I'd remember the story of Shadrach the great Golden Retriever who had his mouth, face, and throat full of porcupine quills one summer and the best way to remove them all was to get the poor pup wasted and wait till he passed out after swerving to miss the pole a few times and then finally smacking into it head on. His rock hard doggie head still probably hurt from all that when he woke up!

So... where was I going with all that? Oh yes, never fear, we did NOT resort to such irresponsible-parent tactics as dosing our 4 year old with a thimble-full of moonshine. We just sent her in to be put under by the doctors. No risk in that at all, right?!

Okay, okay, I must admit, I am very glad as a mom to be able to offer this sort of humane procedure to my kid, as opposed to holding them down and lancing it as a doctor would have done 100 years ago.

Poor little girlie had already been through enough poking around her foot with needles, tweezers, squeezing and even a (weak) attempt to open it up with *gasp* a sterilized razor blade. Every night she had a bandage with black salve to draw it out, every day she went back and forth between epsom salt soaks and charcoal poultices. Nothing was working.

And y'all are probably thinking... ewww. TMI!

And y'all are right, but just wanted to show how long and how hard we tried to resolve this on our own outside of the OR!

Now there's a picture to wrench a mother's heart!
In pre-op just before they came to get her.

What it looked like the morning of surgery.

She's doing very well now. She had to wear a special protective boot, keep it wrapped in gauze and completely dry for a week, but now we're good to go with just a band-aid and some neosporin! Thank you, Lord!

with her cousin Levi at campmeeting,
walking around with her special boot and walking sticks, of course!
Thank you to Levi's mom for taking this adorable pic!

My Dear Letters

It's that time again - time for some Dear Letters!

Dear Jenkins Family Immunity,
Stop it. Just stop it. Whatever it is that's driving you to such distraction that you've left us all out in the cold for the last 6 months, QUIT! The kitchen looks like a pharmacy. The house smells like ammonia. The doctors are getting jumbled up and confused in my mind. Can you please get your butt back in gear and do your job already?! Thanks,

signed: a-sick-of-the-meds-the-dosing-the-charcoal-and-the-fomentations-the-appointments-and-the-missing-out-on-SUMMER!-Lisa


Dear Poison Control,
You are pretty awesome, I have to admit. Thanks for answering on the second ring, calming this mama's hysterics, and informing me that I do not, in fact, have to induce vomiting for every ingested chemical. Thank you for not talking to me like I'm a terrible mother, and thank you for calling me back the next day to check on everyone, both ingesting child and insane mother. I do appreciate it! Maybe I'll put you guys on speed dial so I don't have to look it up next time!!! ..... or not.

signed: a-"hello, POISON CONTROL??? I need to know where to buy ipecac!!!!!"-slightly overreacting-mom-Lisa


Dear Emmy,
Please don't make me call poison control ever again. They might be awesome, but I'm still pretty sure they think I'm nuts and maybe it's just my conspiracy theory tendencies, but I think they might call CPS on me if I have to call them more than once in my whole entire parental career and THAT was it. So.... no more spraying the Orange Oil Pledge in your mouth. Yes, it does have a picture of an orange on the label. No, that does not mean it's edible.

signed: a-'life's-never-going-to-be-boring-with-this-girl'-Mom


Dear Lisa,
You. Yes, you! I'm talking to you-ooo!!! First of all, let's learn from our lessons the first time, shall we? Okay, good. Now. Since that little pep talk didn't happen earlier in the week, let's go over some basic principles that will *hopefully* keep us out of trouble again, okay? Great. First: don't leave hazardous chemicals in plain view of the children. EVER. Second: don't turn your back on said children OR chemicals, but especially not when both are in the same room (or out of doors on the same PLANET together, mmm-kay? Third: Poison Control might be a wonderful resource, however, they are NOT the people to call when your child has sprayed deet-filled bug spray in her face. Technically, that's not INGESTING the poison, now is it?

signed: a please-stop-talking-to-yourself-it's-freaking-me-out-Lisa



Dear Broken Ta-Ta,
You served me well through 4 babies and 43 months of nursing. Why you've suddenly decided to go kaput on me for the past 3 months is beyond me. I thought we had a deal. I thought we understood each other. Now? Now it's like you've crossed over to the dark side. I swear, this IS the last kid, so could you please just... hold off on going on strike for another 6 months or so??? You're killin' me here! No matter how hard you push me, I just simply can't give you a raise right now. That's all there is to it. You're going to have to wait! So let's get back to work, shall we?

signed: a slightly-lopsided-ouchie'd-broken-ta-ta'd-Lisa



Dear Dishwasher,
I think about you often (especially when it's really humid out and I remember when I was a kid and the hot, humid air that old dishwasher would fill the kitchen with). I dream of the day we finally meet (which as of publication has absolutely no plans of happening in the near future). I wonder what it would be like to bring you home and make you part of the family (a productive part of the family, I might add, since we all work together 'round here). We'd really love to adopt you. It'll be fun! Kind of like a playdate that never ends (there's only 6 of us, how bad could it be?)! We'll take good *ahem* care of you! Hope to see you soon!

signed: a "what-do-you-do-when-your-dishwasher-stops-working?-smack-her-in-the-butt(and tell her to get moving)-of-the-joke-Lisa



Dear Joshua,
Congratulations. We're not even two weeks into summer vacation and you've already beaten the Mario Kart game. I know this somehow makes you believe that you are a way better driver than me since I am NOT that great at the game. I know that you think mad Mario Kart skillz translates to mad IRL driving skillz, but yeh, not so much. Sorry. Please take this into consideration next time you try to be the back seat driver. You still have 9 years till you get your license, bud, so slow it down, k?

signed: a-please-stop-telling-me-how-to-drive-my-Wariomobile!-uh-wait-what-do-I-do-here?-Mom



Dear Online Friends/Community Members:
I realize that spelling is very difficult for most some of us these days (and no I'm not trying to say I'm perfect). I realize that predictive text, a facebook spellcheck that says "facebook" is not a word, and a pop culture that has dictated cutesy little abbreviations and acronyms are not only acceptable but preferable to actually spelling out WORDS has made spelling skills seem obsolete. I assure you, they are not obsolete. Go ask your boss. So, let's practice one teensy little rule of thumb for those cutesy status updates: express yourself with all the WoooHoooos!!! and Yeeehawwwwws you want, but please, please, PLEASE refrain from extending the silent "e" as if it were actually the sound you WANT to extend!!! It doesn't even make the slightest bit of sense! Like trying to accentuate the word "huge" for instance. Please don't say "hugeeeee" because I totally read this to say, "hug. eeeeeee." Huggy? Huggy? What does that MEAN?" Perhaps I'm too literal? I don't know. But for some strange reason, I do find it confusing when people extend a letter in a word that is supposed to have absolutely no sound! Comeeeeee over hereeeee!! Smileeeeeeeeeee!!!! You're on Candid Camera! Am I the only one annoyed by this terrible abuse of the silent "e"?

signed: a-biteee-me-cuz-thu-speleeen-crimeeeeee-is-a-lameeee-thin-ta-doo-and-it-scareeeeees-me-ta-tink-of-the-nest-jenerashun-Leeeeeeeeesa



Dear Pediatrician's Office,
Really? REALLY?! It takes y'all 6 DAYS to call me back with x-ray results? I mean seriously, I'm not sure what I was thinking when I made the appointment to see the ped. instead of taking her to the urgent care right here in town, but it wasn't URGENT when the sliver had already been in her foot for more than 2 weeks. And THEN you send us BACK to the same (much closer) hospital where we could have gone to in the first place, where we dutifully had the x-rays taken (which BTW, doc, WON'T show a piece of grass or wood, hello!) and then were sent away so the results could be read later and forwarded back to you whereas if we'd have just gone to urgent care in the FIRST place we'd have received them within an HOUR. Not. SIX. Days. Oh, and thanks for ignoring my numerous calls during those 6 days also. I mean, I can totally understand that you honestly thought the infection would clear up with the keflex, but some TIMELY communication about what WASN'T found on the x-ray would have been peachy. I'm not stupid. I'm not jumping at every little thing to rush my kids off to the ER for. Don't treat me like I'm THAT mom.

Oh, and P.S. - the podiatrist thinks you're a dork, too. The poor kiddo you ignored for a week will be in on Monday to have the ultrasound done that you should have ordered long ago and will likely have whatever it is in her foot removed surgically on Wednesday. No thanks to you.

P.P.S - don't mess with mama bear. Just so you know. For next time.

signed: Mama Bear




Dear Bose-less, air-conditioning-less, fuel-injection-less, working fuel guage-less, did-I-mention-air-conditioning-less?, smooth braking system-less, older-than-the-hills Suburban:

*SIGH*

That is all.

signed: oh you know who I am. ME. *sigh*

Never A Good Sign

Sugar and Spice and Everything Nice?

I mean, the day had started off rough enough as it was. I woke up with very vivid memories of holding, smelling, kissing and snuggling a sweet little baby that I will never meet this side of heaven. It's been almost two years, but at certain times and on certain dates I will always think of that little one. I'm thankful for the dreams, even if they are bittersweet. I'll always miss that little peanut.

It had been a long week of sickness for me (SHEESH, what IS it with my HEALTH this year?!) and I stayed home from church... with three of the kids. Not much rest there, but hey, that's part of the job description of "Mother", right?

While we sat in the living room after breakfast, one of our little girls admitted she'd wet the bed the night before. Part of her deal is that if she has an accident she must help clean it up, so I sent her upstairs to gather the wet clothing and bring down the wet bedding if she could. Went back to chatting with my husband about the week past and the week ahead and before I knew what was happening Colby was yelling "STOP!!" and I was trying to figure out just exactly why there was a trail of water across the living room floor and into the kitchen...

It wasn't water.

But you already knew that, didn't you?

And yes, the trail went all the way from her bed, down the hall, down the stairs, through the living room, and into the kitchen. Not only had there been enough wetness to do all that, there was still a puddle in the middle of her *waterproof* mattress. Oh, joy.

Thank heavens for paper towels, bleach, and Swiffer antibacterial solution!

Somehow we managed to get cleaned up and get finished with the easiest church readiness program yet: prepping only the man and the boy for church. No hairdos, no tights, and no makeup (for Mommy, of course).

Colby headed off to church with Joshua and I got started with the clean up of breakfast, which included rinsing the dishes to stack up, including the full bowl of granola the 4 year old dumped into the sink instead of eating, which filled the sink strainer that I then dropped on the floor as I attempted to empty it.

This shenanigans kept up on a steady pace as I watched one of the girls knock the coffee maker onto the floor (thankfully not full of hot coffee) spreading black coffee grounds everywhere. The more we tried to clean it up, the further the mess spread! How DO you clean that stuff up, anyway?! Paper towels, sponges, washcloths, two little blonde girls, a very interested-in-helping baby, and a wet, brown tinged, coffee-smelling broom later and we were sort of cleaned up again.

After that I found a half of a 2lb block of cheese:

............

Get ready!

Are you sitting down?

............

BEHIND the TOILET.

No, no I do not have any idea what it was doing there or WHY it was there but I did wonder where that cheese had gone to after the haystack dinner we'd had the night before. I was quite sure that if I were to ask the girls why there was a block of cheese in the bathroom they'd both point accusingly at the dog. Who is all of 8 inches tall and while he does have this cute habit of sitting up on his hind legs is getting much too old to jump all the way up onto the counter to snatch some cheese.

Yep, quite sure of it.

'Specially since he was never talented enough to do that when he was a pup.

Jump from a second story barn door? Yes.

Jump higher than 12 inches off the ground? No.

*sigh*

I have to admit: when the girls grew quiet upstairs at 10:30 that morning and the baby was asleep, I was simply and wholeheartedly relieved to be able to sit down and rest for a while!

Did I mention the girls were QUIET? UPSTAIRS?

Quiet and upstairs... quiet and upstairs.... quiet and upstairs....

Finally the red flags registered in my hazy, sleep deprived, not-quite-with-it mind and I ran upstairs to find this:

*indicating a very improper use of scissors, which are, of course, BANNED from the upstairs

which is a combination of hair from my childhood Cabbage Patch, a Who from Whoville doll, and Elayna's newest dolly from Grandma:

But of course, the real fun started when I saw the sheets on the bed:

Followed quickly by catching a glimpse of the almost-but-not-quite-out-of-sight hidden treasure:

Oh yes, hair. Not just hair from the dolls, but little blonde Emmy hair and curly Elayna hair, too.

See, I've said it before and I'll say it again: It's HAZARDOUS for mothers to get sick!!! Why does God allow mothers to get sick? I truly, honestly have no good explanation for that, but it's on my short list of things to ask when I finally get to see Him!

No good comes from a household with a sick Mommy.

Oh, and if you're thinking to yourself right now, "Whoa, those kids are CRAZY and OUT of CONTROL!!", you are absolutely right! And someday when you least expect it, you're going to get sick, too. Suddenly there will be behaviors and naughtiness that weren't even on the radar of your sweet little Puddinpop that somehow develop into full blown do-we-call-the-dr.-NOW-for-tranquilizers-for-ME-or-the-KIDS or-do-we-go-to-family-counseling or-do-we-call-the-pastor??? ...issues

They know when you're weak...



**And Kelly - if you're now trying to catch a breath and not hyperventilate... it's okay, you can hardly see it, especially on Elayna's curly little head! I promise! They'll look just fine for Flower Girl duty!

Just don't look too closely!

Beanie Queenie Turns 4!

When she was born I had all sorts of good intentions about calling her "Laney". I would call her by her whole first name only occasionally, and then it would be pronounced "Eh-léna" like my friend Elena or like Catherine Zeta-Jones in The Mask of Zorro. She'd be the little blonde version with a yellow rose in her teeth. Hmm. And probably a bit shorter as it turns out.

Anyway, it never crossed my mind that she'd be called "Eeee-layna" so much by everyone that pretty soon that's what she'd be.

That is, when she's not "Bean".

I've tried to recall just how she became "Bean", but the memories are fuzzy. Maybe it was because she was 23 inches long when she was born and looked a bit like, well, a bean pole. Maybe it was because she was a "coffee bean" and woke up promptly at 5 am every.single.morning whether it was Sunday or not. Maybe it was because she was a "jumping bean", crawling at 4 months and walking/climbing at 9. Maybe it was that "bean pod" sleep sack that she wore to bed every night and could still crawl AND walk in!



At any rate, the nicname stuck like a bad toupée and she still introduces herself as "Bean, 4 years old". I get a lot of weird looks for that, especially when we're out in public and Emmy has a sudden need to introduce the family to random strangers in the check out line.

"HI! I'm EMMY!! I'm 5, and this is my brother Joshua. He's 7. This is my little sister Bean, she's 4, and that's my baby sister, Evelyn. She's ZERO."

"What's her name?!", they'll ask, trying to be polite and wondering if they're just hard of hearing or if I just have a cruel sense of humor: name the rest of the children lovely, normal sounding names BUT HER.

Of course, the silliness grows exponentially when little ones learn how to rhyme. Joshua Boshua, Emmy Slemmy, Beanie Queenie, Mama Quama (???), Grandma Pajama, and Grandpa Campa all answer to their Sesame Street names without hesitation now.

So yes, Beanie Queenie became a very grown up four years old a couple of weeks ago.

Her birthday last year was a total, complete bit of a flop. I didn't even make her a cake.

At all.

It was... not my best mommy moment, I'll admit it.

This year I was determined to do better. I was going to have the BEST cake EVER! The ingredients had all been purchased days beforehand (yes, all 9 1/2 sticks of unsalted butter!), the totally awesome yellow tutu swimsuit that she'd flip over (that definitely won't be fitting her anytime soon) and plans made for family to gather for pizza, cake and ice cream that evening.

And then.... reality hit. Emmy started out the morning of Elayna's birthday puking her little guts out, I quickly discovered that I had made two layers of the cake with 9 inch pans when the recipe was for 6 inch pans, and not quite enough ingredients to make a second batch of batter (who needs green, blue, and purple, right? ...RIGHT?!). By noon I was ready to throw in the towel, except for that cute little blondie that insisted on spending her whole birthday in the kitchen with me, "helping". How could I turn that down?

(recipe found here)

We plugged along, somehow made it to the store and back in time to continue baking and frosting before dinner time (including the 2.5 dozen cupcakes thanks to all the extra batter), and despite a little mishap where I threw the camera into the side of the cake, it actually turned out all right. I just have one thing to say about that rainbow cake:

NEVER.AGAIN.

Seriously, if y'all are thinking about giving it a go: DON'T!!!

Or at least, for the love of all things sane, MODIFY the recipe! Take a few white cake mix boxes, whip 'em up, throw some food coloring in, and stack those things up! The frosting was good, though... NO! Resist the white chocolate buttercream and just make up some white frosting, for pity's sake!



Okay. I feel better now. Moving on.


Despite the excitement and joy here, we will have to wait till next year since it is way too big and we are way too far away from the store I bought it at to exchange it. I don't know, but I get the feeling that if we just hide it till her next birthday we'll still get a pretty good reaction from reopening it!

It's hard to believe she's already 4 years old. She's still my little sunshine girl.

Happy Birthday Bean!

Four years old now!

I just love black and whites!!!

See my flowers?

Bye now!


Oh, and by the way, forget everything I just said about all of her nicnames. Besides being Bean, which I suspect to some people she always will be, she is simply, "Layna".