My Lovely Lady Lips. Check 'Em Out!

I should probably start this post with a warning.  The images that you will see might make you barf.  There I said it.  You've been warned.

This is a story about lip-erousy (AKA: cold sores gone bad).  Probably the most disgusting story you will ever encounter in your life.  And it ALL happened before, during and after the birth of my beautiful Jane whom I still haven't been able to kiss due to these nasty, terrible, horrible things.  I thought I looked horrid enough in this first picture.  Joe had a cold sore one morning and then the next morning, I had one in the same place (our love is just that alive).  I met up with Joe for lunch before my pregnancy check-up appt on Feb 8th where I was SO excited they were going to strip my membranes (they didn't because Jane's head was too high).  This was two days before I started going into labour.  Look how adorable we are!  Matching cold sores!  Difference is Joe went ahead and popped his (which I refused to do) and his was already in the healing process.


Well, my little bubble on my bottom lip kept getting bigger after a day or so, so in a moment of bravery I caved to Joe's pressures and popped mine. And it killed.  I wish I could say it killed my cold sore.  But it did just the opposite.  It spread to my upper lip.  I went into labour that night (Feb 10th) looking like this.  People had suggested using Abreva so I tried it.  I was diligent.  Perhaps too diligent?


This next picture was taken two days after Jane was born.  It would have been Feb 13th at 7am after crying all night.  This was the morning after Jane was put into NICU.  She had just been transferred to the Children's Hospital on this very morning, which explains the puffiest eyes you've ever seen.  Not an optical illusion from the glasses.  They really were just that swollen.  (If you want full details of why I was crying all night, read my last post "Jane's Story.").  You think this is hideous?  It gets WORSE!


This is the following morning. This is the picture I texted Joe to wish him a Happy Valentines Day.  I had spent the night without him at the hospital so I could be with Jane and nurse her through the night.  I had no car and it was Sunday.  Joe wasn't planning to pick me up until later, but my lips we ON FIRE!  Not only did they look hideous, they felt so uncomfortable!  Nay!  More than uncomfortable.  Terrible!!!!  Like the worst sun burn you've ever had.  I felt so disgusting every time I passed someone in the hospital.  Even the receptionist at the NICU desk almost didn't let me in to see my own baby!!!  But thankfully the RN said that if it wasn't actively pussing (barf) I didn't have to wear a mask or anything.  A part of me wishes I could have so I could skip all the stares (it would have been impossible to wear one because it wouldn't have fit!  I tried....).  Now that Jane was on the upswing, I was finally able to think of myself, but since it was Sunday I had to figure out how to get myself to a walk-in clinic without a car and without Joe's help.  So, out of desperation I asked Alysha if she would be able to help me that morning between feedings since she lived close-ish to the hospital.  She was my Saviour and picked me up and drove me into Cochrane just as the clinic was opening at 8am.  What a friend!  I owe her my lips.  Even though we were there for an hour and I was in pain, it was nice to be there with a friend to pass such a crappy time!  Thank you Alysha.  A zillion.  You have no idea.  Thank you.


Turns out they were, indeed, cold sores.  They just also happened to be crosseed with a bacteria infection.  Gross.  So, I had to take two strains of antibiotics to kill the bacteria and the cold sores.  I didn't leave the house for a week.  And when people came over to bring us dinners (bless their hearts), I made Joe answer the door and hid!  Who wants to open the door to this face?!  And look how swollen my lips are!  This was a day after taking meds.  Giving the term "duck lips" a whole new meaning.


This is me trying to smile.  It took me an hour and a half to eat a salad because I could barely open my mouth and I didn't want to get food all over my lips!  Lots of cutting things into small pieces.  Very.  Small.  Pieces.

Yay! It's healing! This is about a few days into taking the anti-biotics.  Nice and dry and scabby and boogie-like.  My fav is the hanging boogie below my upper lip.  I had to drink from a straw because it would catch on a cup.  Barf.  I know.  At this point, I was finally able to put vaseline on the parts of my lip that weren't covered in meat loaf and Joe noticed right away that my lips were shiny.  I said, "I'm trying to seduce you.  Is it working?"  Haha!  It was really hard for me to have a sense of humour about this, but what choice do you have after a while?  Joe and I would crack jokes about my lips falling into my food (we actually DID have meat loaf that week and had a good laugh).  And Joe would joke about taking me out to eat wings and me accidentally eating my lips because they were the same texture.  Yes.  It got gross.  I just can't believe this was living on my lips for this long!  Imagine how people must feel who have permanent facial defects?


Bit by bit, my lips started peeling off like a loose scab (barf).  The last bit on my top lip finally peeled off Feb 24th as I was eating Vector that morning (barf again).  Just before my birthday weekend away with my friends!  I was so happy!  Best birthday gift ever!  My lips were still very sensitive and if you look closely on my upper lip you can tell it is still swollen and bubbled where that blood dot is.  I wish I could tell you that I can now kiss Jane for the first time, but I still have yet to experience that.  It's really quite painful to my heart.  That swollen bit on my upper lip turned into another cold sore ON my very birthday just yesterday.  I was so mad and frustrated.  I almost cried.  Thanks to my friend Andrea Barnes, who is a cold sore pro, she gave me the stuff she uses to cure her cold sores, so I am going to try it this week and hope for the best.  Apparently once you get a cold sore, they can reoccur for life.  Sounds super fun considering the surface space they took up on my lips.  I have NEVER gotten a cold sore before in my life (okay, maybe a few tiny ones in high school and that's IT!).  So, to get it this terribly is so out of the blue.  I started getting a few tiny ones a few months ago, but I thought it was just a pregnancy thing since I NEVER get them.  The doctor thinks it has to do with just having a low immune system with having this baby and all the stresses that ended up coming with it.  May I never have a low immune system again!  That is my birthday wish.  Assuming I can still use my wishes a day after my birthday....  One day I will get to kiss my baby.  And it will be a glorious day.  She will hate it.  But I will be in Heaven.

Jane's Story

It all started Feb 10th. I was in the middle of Google-Timing Jenny and Sarah when I went to get up to put something away. I immediately had to stop because I was feeling one of those needle-stabbling pains in the you-know-where. Usually they come and go but this one lasted about 20 seconds and I had to stop and wait it out before I could move again (ouchieeeee!!!), and then all the sudden I felt a "pop-sploosh!" Did my water just break? I checked my undies and it was only a small leak. Not an obvious gush.  So annoying.  I did NOT want a repeat of last week where I "think" my water broke, etc, so I decided to wait it out and see if any more water leaked or splooshed out and see if any contractions would follow. Well, it felt a lot like last week where small movements would let out a teeny drip of this or that. It was so frustrating. Why can't labour just be obvious?  But the difference I found was that I was starting to get contractions. And not just your regular Braxton Hicks that I've been feeling for months. Like, the real ouchie stop-in-place kind.  It's funny because someone told me, "Just make some fun plans so you have stuff to look forward to before your baby comes, and then she'll either come wreck your plans (yay!) or she won't and you still get to enjoy your plans."  Haha!  Well, that night before the supposed "water-breakage" I decided I was going to invite some friends over since Joe would be at hockey and I wasn't really interested in being alone.  Well, it was starting to get closer to the evening and I had to make a decision.  Were my contractions hard enough and close enough together that this was it?  Could I handle being told to go home from the hospital a second time?  The closer and closer it got to having my friends come over, the more convinced I was that this baby was coming!  I called off my plans and told Joe to come home right away.  When we got to the hospital my contractions were pretty intense but not quite 5 minutes apart.  More like 10-ish.  They got me on the monitor and did an internal.  I was a tight 3cm dilated, so they told me to walk around for a while and come back.  My contractions were starting to get closer together, 3-5 minutes apart, so we went back up after about an hour of that!  The doctor came in to tell me that my water had not, in fact, broken (what is wrong with me?!!).  And that wasn't even the worst of it.  She said she didn't see a lot of progress, still 3cm and baby's head was still pretty high.  She saw the look in my face and said, "go walk for two hours and come back and we'll see."  I did NOT have a lot of hope that I would progress in a mere two hours and walked away pretty upset and already very tired (it was about 1am at this point).  I resolved (with the help of Joe's encouragement) that if I was going to "walk" around, I was going to make it count and do my best to get gravity to do its job.  That meant each time we passed the stairs, I would briskly walk up and then jump down each step.  I would stop and do low squats as often as possible, or bounce in a squatting position.  I would hop up and down when I came to rail.  I got really sweaty!  When the two hours were up, I was nervous and trying to prepare myself for the worst.  In fact, I was pretty certain we would be sent home.  My due date was Feb 19th, so the chances of my body deciding to be ready after 2 hours of hard work when I already work hard every day anyway bending over to do laundry or dishes, or lifting Zoe into the car, or getting groceries, etc, just didn't seem likely.  Well, the doc checked me again and said that I had progressed a little.  Very little.  But it was enough to let me STAY!  I think she saw my face and knew that if she sent me home after all that I might have hired a hitman to take me out.  Plus, this was my fifth baby, so who knows HOW fast this baby would come?  I played that card hard!  Looks like it helped!  


She said that I still needed to walk for at least another hour before asking for an epidural.  I would do anything knowing that I was officially admitted!  Mind you, this hour of "walking" was more of a shuffle (it was about 4am at this point).  I was exhausted and hungry and in a lot of pain.  Since I knew an epidural was in my future I did my shuffling duties and I ATE.  If I had known how much longer my labouring was going to take, I would have eaten a LOT more.  After I got my epidural, the rest was pretty predictable.  My labouring slowed down, so they broke my water.  Labour was still slow so they put my on oxytocin.  What I did NOT anticipate was that I would need a second epidural.  Say WHAT?  Apparently, as the nurses were helping me pee into a bedpan (super fun), and clean up all the waters and blood that kept leaking over and over again, my cable to the epidural cord came loose.  Can't you just reattach it?  No.  They had to remove everything and get the anesthetist back in to find another spot on my back to jab!  It's scary enough getting one epidural!  But two was not fun.  "At least you were still numb from your second epidural though."  Not so, my friends.  They made me wait until it wore off so I could feel everything, just in case he hit a nerve so I could tell him that it hurt.  Sheesh.  That part wasn't fun.  And this time, my dosage was lower.  My happy button didn't seem to be doing much towards the end.  I kept asking for a higher dosage because I could tell I was getting closer to being fully dilated.  It was a lot like Zoe's delivery where I could feel QUITE A LOT!  I could feel her head right there and it was painful and not fun!  But I was able to lift my own legs to push.  Was that an advantage?  I don't know.  Yes, I was in control, but it would have been so much nicer to not feel all that.  And no, I didn't go into shock this time.  That was nice.  It was three contractions worth of pushing and she was out!  My first thought was that she looked just like Zoe!  And then I cried because the hardest stuff was over and she was here and it was all worth it.  This little person laying on my chest was worth every single ounce of pain, frustration, tears.  All of it.


Jane Audra Burnham was born at 5:17pm on Feb 11th (my Dad's birthday) weighing in at 7lbs, 10oz and 19.5 inches long.  I thought it was fitting that she was born on my Dad's birthday because we  gave her the name Audra after his Mother (my grandma), who is an amazing person!  She was the only woman in her graduating class in optometry in University, and one of my favourite stories about her was when she was so fumed at her husband that she poured an entire bowl of mashed potatoes over his head.  She was not only beautiful and smart, but spunky!  I love that about her!  Here are some pictures from the day: cuddles, first bath, etc.  (Thank you to Colette for coming and being my Motherly support/taking pictures).
 

I THOUGHT I wanted Joe to spend the night with me because that first night is always a little nerve-racking.  Every little gagging noise they make is so scary and I wasn't healed enough to get up quickly and check on her.  Joe warned me that he was probably going to snore.  Well.  He snores every night anyway!  I quickly realized how terrible of a situation this was.  Yes.  Joe snored.  He snored like a man who didn't sleep the night before.  He also didn't wake up to any baby-gagging nor to me calling his name over and over.  I was calling his name so loud that a nurse came in to make sure everything was okay!  So finally, at 1am, I sent that man HOME!  I also did not sleep the night before and needed to take what sleep I could get, with or without the support (and noise) of my husband.  It was only one night and I would see him tomorrow.  Good call Maren.

Well, the gagging and puking up mucus was certainly in my cards that night.  All night long.  I had her bassinet right next to my bed, but it was still hard getting up to get her and pat her back or turn her to her side, etc.  With my other babies, this was over and done with a few times, or at most usually once the night was over.  I tried feeding her at various times through the night and early the next morning.  At this point I had only fed her twice (where she latched) directly after birthing her the evening before but she was not interested, and I was too tired during the night to push anything that she wasn't interested in.  Plus, I knew this was common.  Babies didn't need to be force fed directly out of the womb. She would be fine for a while.  Well, 11am came and she still wasn't eating, so the nurse told me I needed to express my milk and feed her with a syringe.  I kept this up every three or so hours, but she just kept spitting it up.  I figured perhaps she was showing signs of a puking Burnham baby early (all of my babies were pukers).  Problem was, she wasn't just spitting after feeding, she was puking randomly throughout the day (also pretty common in my babies, just not at this stage of babyhood).  The nurse said we could be discharged after Jane would poop for us.  Well.  She wasn't pooping.  The nurse almost let us go home saying, "Just as long as she poops within three days."  But she told us she'd have the paediatrician take a look over her before we could leave, just in case.  Well.  Thank goodness she did.  Remember when I said the hardest part was over?  I was wrong.  I was very wrong.  She told us that she needed to be sent to the NICU for further examination because she had some concerns.  Upon hearing the word NICU, I went into shock.  How serious was this?  What the heck was going on?  I literally floated there as they wheeled her in and hooked her up to every imaginable IV.  They couldn't find a vein so they poked and prodded her and bruised her while I sat there helplessly and cried.

 They did an X-ray and the result was that there was a blockage in her large intestine.  What does that mean, a blockage?  Well, he couldn't say for sure, so he barely gave us any information at all.  He told us he'd feel best transferring her to the NICU at the Children's Hospital so the surgeon there could do more tests and find out for sure.  Well, one look at Joe and we both burst into tears.  Waiting on the unknown is one of the worst feelings in the world.

They told us to take care of getting myself discharged and meet us at the ambulance so we could follow them over to the hospital.  We were on our way when we got the news that there was another baby who was more sick than ours and needed to be transferred first.  Thankfully Jane's vitals were stable, and honestly, I don't think we had a choice in the matter.  They said it would be a few hours before she was transferred (it was around midnight at this point) and that it might be a good idea to just go home and get some sleep and they would call.  Go home?  Be separated from my baby?  I was supposed to be bringing a baby home.  I was not interested in going home unless she was with me.  What if something happened unexpectedly and I wasn't there?  Joe somehow managed to talk me into coming home with him.  Maybe I was too exhausted to fight it, but we managed to float home (yes, more floating).  Every time I thought I was done crying, another bout of tears would follow.  I knew sleep was out of the question.  Finally, I asked Joe to give me a blessing.  It was one of those "trust in God and put your faith in Him" blessings.  I wanted to hear a, "she's going to be fine" blessings, but I didn't get one.  So, I had to make a choice.  Cry all night and worry my brains out, OR, put my faith in God that she is in His hands and He is going to take care of her.  The moment I allowed myself to surrender to faith and hope was the moment I finally fell asleep for the first time in two days.

We got a call from the NICU about four hours later saying that she was going to be transferred in about an hour's time and they would call again.  Joe and I just laid there in bed waiting.  I was a lot more calm than I thought I would be at this point.  I still cried, but I most definitely had angels bearing me up and giving me strength.  It was a long, quiet drive across the city at 6am that morning.  I had all sorts of feelings.  Anxiety was certainly one of them.  But God gave us the best tender mercy ever.  The waiting game stopped the second we arrived.  "You're the Burnhams?  Well, your Jane just blew out her diaper on the way over!  Massive poop!"  Turns out that blockage on the X-ray was a major poop!  Everything was working down there.  No surgeries.  I could breathe again.  And of course, I cried again.  One last final time.  And for very different reasons!  I guess she just wanted to take an ambulance ride before letting it all out!  Or maybe she had stage fright in front of me (she certainly doesn't now!).  They wanted to keep her for a few days to monitor her, make sure she was still going to keep things down, latch, continue to poop, etc.  We had every best case possible scenario and they even let her come home a day earlier than expected.  On Valentines Day.  Best V-day gift ever!

This little Toot could have saved us a lot of heart ache, but I guess as the youngest of five she had to declare her rights from the get-go that she be the one to receive the most attention!  This girl!

Ready to go!  Not only did we get to take Jane home, I got to take these lovely cankles with me!

I can tell you that Jane is well-loved here.  Ellie and Zoe have become little Mothers.  If this girl cries, she is getting a song.  Immediately.  And if Jane is too busy sleeping, the girls are pretending to have babies of their own.  In a quiet moment when Noah was stroking Jane and the other kids were off doing their own thing, he tenderly said to her, "One thing I know is you're going to have a lot of fun in our family.  Okay?"  I got it on video without him knowing and anytime I feel like melting I watch it.  Jackson is more of my helper still.  He knows I can't get around easily so he is on call for when I might need some help.  It is Family Day week this week.  At first I didn't know how I felt about the kids having all week off of school, but it's actually been quite nice having them around (and not having to make lunches and check agendas and be out the door in the morning for school... ON TIME!  That's going to be rough next week).

Thank you to Sarah, Colette and Tami Doney for stepping in to watch my kids through a much longer process than we anticipated.  One thing I can't forget to mention is how Joe has been my rock through all this.  That doesn't mean he didn't cry at all and was a "man" about all this hard stuff.  It means, he cried with me, he held me, he tended to me and took care of my needs before his, he encouraged me to keep going hard (especially during those awful two hours of "walking."  That was the most I had moved my entire pregnancy!).  He had to listen to me moan and groan through an entire pregnancy, labour and delivery (and took it like a "man").  He was tender and took care of me in a way that I needed and was completely selfless.  Even since we have been home, he has taken over so I wouldn't have to lift a finger.  Mind you, I requested as much, but he has followed through without complaint and I love him for it (and probably would have done it anyway even if I hadn't requested as much because he knows that's what I would want).  Now he is back at work today and I am forced to be a Mom again to not just one little baby, but five kids.  And tend a house.  And sleep somewhere in between.

Honestly, my little family is the best and I am feeling so blest!!  Trials like this certainly put your life into perspective.  Yes, we have absolutely grown closer as a family and as husband and wife and in our faith in God bringing Jane into this world and keeping her here.  I couldn't help but feel a little awful leaving the NICU knowing that there were other babies there half Jane's size who have a long ways to go.  We are certainly blessed indeed.

No More Complaining. After This.

I feel like Rachel McAdams in the movie "Mean Girls" when she says, "I have to wear sweatpants because nothing else fits me right now."  Yes.  I am at THAT stage of pregnancy where everything is just way too tight, but you don't want to buy a whole new wardrobe because you are so close to the end and the only thing that is comfortable are sweats.  Good.  Or your husbands sweats.... even better!  Or no clothes at all.  Best.  I decided the other day to leave the house in sweats.  Who is going to care?  I sure as heck didn't.  I went to parent-link where I knew absolutely no one except the friend that invited me to join her (it's a venue where parents can come and bring their kids and visit with other Moms while their kids play with toys and activities that are set out).  Afterwards a random Mom came up to me and said, "I just have to tell you this, you look so beautiful!"  Um.  Are we seeing the same person here?  "NO really!  I know you probably don't feel that way..."  No, not at all.  "I know I didn't at this stage of pregnancy..." who does?  "But you do!"  It was really sweet of her, but I had to laugh because I was dressed so ghetto.  I looked like a Wal-Mart Mom.  You know the type!  No shower.  No make up.  Sweats tucked into my boots.  I didn't even do the girls' hair (not a shock these days).  But I will say I was grateful to her for going out of her way to say that.  It really DID make my day and was really kind.  And maybe wearing sweatpants in public ain't so bad!  Not like I have a choice these days anyway.

I have been consumed with wanting this baby to come ever since my false alarm last week.  I really have been feeling just as crummy as this picture of me portrays.  AND I have been complaining way too much.  To the point where even I am sick of hearing myself go on and on.  But my dear friend Amelia Low who is full of love and knowledge and wisdom put it this way:  If this truly is going to be my last time experiencing pregnancy, then what's the rush?  Enjoy and embrace these last couple weeks!  No need for me to complain about every inch of pain my body feels when I could be focusing on the miracle it is to be growing a baby inside of me.  Last night I was up from 2:30am-4:30am in lots of hip and groin pain (I've been nesting which has required a lot of physical labour, BUT has given me a lot of emotional satisfaction).  The baby was moving around and I thought to myself, sure it is in the middle of the night and I will be tired tomorrow---not ideal---but I focused on the miracle inside of me and the movements she was making.  How neat that there is a person inside me growing and enjoying the very same ice cream I ate before bed.  It seems like as soon as I shifted my attitude on the whole matter of just wanting the baby "out," instead of appreciating the time that I have left with her "in" I have felt a whole lot more able and can even (mostly) enjoy this process.  Do I still feel all that pain?  Yup.  But is it more bearable?  Somehow, it has been.  I was just reading in the scriptures about this, how often times it's not that our loads are taken away so much as it is that the Lord makes them more bearable.  That's how I'm feeling these days.  So, thank you Heavenly Father.  I'll take it.

Celeste had her baby last week (a month early), little Winnie, who is such a beautiful little baby and I can't wait to meet her!  At first I was flat out jealous because she was technically due 2-3 weeks after me and still managed to pump out a 6 lb + baby!  What?  Some people get all the luck.  Well, apparently she is jaundice and is having a hard time keeping her milk down so she has to stick around in the NICU and be monitored until she is strong enough to go home.  Okay.  That would be super hard!  And on top of that Colette just told me today that Celeste just witnessed a baby pass away in the NICU.  How hard would that be?  Everything that comes out of Celeste's mouth is positive and uplifting, but I think that experience would wreck me.  How can I complain that I have a baby growing inside of me to full term (and probably past my due date if we're going to be real here) who is text book healthy and doing just fine?  After hearing that sad news, I will take any round ligament pain or uncomfortable zinging that comes if it means I will get a healthy and happy baby at the end of it.  With all of this being said, I plan to enjoy and embrace these last couple weeks.  And if I think about it too much, I get a little bit sad thinking about how this will be my last.  It's hard because I do not LOVE pregnancy, but I have a hard time saying I am done.  My body doesn't want to do this again.  My sanity was finished two kids ago.  And just the sheer number of five kids and dividing my time and attention somehow just seems a little on the impossible side.  Do I WANT to be done?  Well, after reading what I just wrote, it all makes sense on paper, doesn't it???  But, ...the sheer fact that I am saying "but" makes me question myself a little.  But only a LITTLE.  Like so little you can't even see it.  Plus, at five kids we will all still fit into ONE mini-van.  And maybe one day I will even get to take them all to Disneyland.  And that will be our only cool trip as a family.  Ever.  Add one more kid?  That dream just became that much more impossible.  Diapers and school fees forever!!

I Hate My Family

Noah has always had a little temper.  Usually he just needs a little man-cave time on his own to cool down and that's that.  Well, it seems like these days his temper flares up and he takes it to another level.  For movie night last Friday he was ticked because he didn't get to have the movie he wanted (which was "Monster House" which would have terrified Zoe).  We told him we had to choose a movie we could all watch together and maybe we could save the other movie for another night when Zoe was already in bed.  Well.  He didn't like that.  So he told Joe and I that he hated our family and stormed off to his room to blow off some steam and shoot hoops on his door.  He eventually came out and ended up even liking the movie (Lilo and Stitch).  He's got some extreme feelings, that's for sure.  Well, on Sunday something set him off again (probably had to eat his dinner or something.  I don't even remember).  Joe sent him to his room to cool off and he kept screaming things like, "I hate my family!  I'm gonna leave!  I'm gonna leave!!"  It was both funny and heart-wrenching at the same time.  I hated hearing him talk like that, but he was so delirious that I couldn't help but chuckle a little.  Joe tried talking to him.  No go.  So after a while, I went in there and just stroked his back.  If there's anything I know about Noah, it's that he likes to be loved and cuddled.  Well, I thought I'd help him think through his thoughts a little.

Me: "So, Noah, why do you want to leave this family?"

Noah: "I just want a Mom and Dad who will let me do whatever I want to do!"

Me:  "That doesn't exist.  A Mom or Dad who lets you do whatever you want is not a good parent.  What if you were going to do something dangerous?  Do you think a good parent would let you do whatever you wanted to do then?"

Noah: (shrug) "I'm gonna leave."

Me:  "Who's going to feed you?"

Noah: (pause) "The animals."

Me: "The animals will feed you?"

Noah: "Yeah.  I'll get a cow and it'll give me milk."

Me: "Where are you going to get that cow?"

Noah: "I'll buy it."

Me: "With what money?"

Noah: "I'll find some money."

Me: "You have to work for money.  You can't just find it, that's stealing."

Noah: "I'll just find it somewhere."

Me:  "Hmmm.....  Well, we would miss you if you left us."

Noah: (gets teary).

Me: "I love you."  (pause while he tears up some more).  "Do you know what always makes me feel better?"

Noah:  "A hug?"  (I was going for reading scriptures or saying a prayer)

Me:  "What a great idea."  (So, I gave him a nice long hug which softened him up a bit.  And then we read some scriptures together and talked about them.  At this point, it was bed time so I said good night and added:), "Do you know what else makes me feel better?"  (I was going for personal prayers at this point).

Noah:  "A kiss."  (That will work too.  So I gave hime another hug along with a kiss.  Melt my heart).

I'm not sure what to do with this boy.  He seems to have these outbursts quite a lot lately, and I wonder how much it has to do with being a seven year old.  I remember Jackson went through a moody-teenager phase at seven that I didn't understand and thankfully he's moved past it.  Mostly.  I'm hoping that's all this is and that it will pass. Until then, it looks like I'll be sticking to hugs and kisses to sooth that tender and ultra-sensitive heart of his, or I may have a runaway teenaged seven year old on my hands!  Apparently Joe tried to run away when he was that age once.  What?!!  I guess he got two blocks and was like, "I'm bored" and came home!  Haha!  But not funny for the Mom!  I hope none of my kids pull that on me.  I also found out that his Dad did the same thing, but back then you could be gone for hours without your parents needing to worry.  He said that his Mom probably didn't even notice he was gone!  Haha!  These days I am scared to let my kids out of my sight.  Since my last post, there has been an additional almost-abduction in my neighbourhood (that's three in one week)!  So.  If Noah ran away, I would absolutely have a problem with that and I would most certainly notice.  I wish I could just let my kids play and not worry about them walking two blocks without getting abducted.  It's a sad world we live in.  I guess if Noah DID decide to run away,  I could be safe in the knowledge that at least he would have a cow to feed him milk.

Sweet 16. I mean 6.

Ellie is officially six!  She has been awaiting her birthday party for a LONG time.  Three whole extra days!  Her actual birthday was on Wednesday and I made her wait until Saturday to have her party and open presents!  I DID, however, try to make her actual birthday special.  It was a school day so there was only so much I could do.  I wrapped some sugar cereal in the morning so she could open up SOMETHING on her birthday.  And I ballooned her door (which my kids love).  I also let her open her birthday card from Grandma and Grandpa Ord ($10 whole bucks!).  She also got to wear PJs to school, along with the rest of the school because it was literacy day and apparently that's what you wear when you want to read all day!  She also got to give a presentation in her class about all her favourite things (cats, popcorn, The Lego Movie, Easter, singing, purple and pink, crepes, her toy ponies and zoomer zuppy, and a scooter that she hopes to get for her birthday.  She did) AND I got to come and help her.  She was scheduled to present the week of my due date, but I asked her teacher if we could change the date so I could come.  What better day than her birthday?  One of the questions asked at her presentation was, "Are you going to have a special birthday dinner tonight?"  And she replied, "Of course!  We are going to have CREPES!"  Good to know!  So, I made sure that happened as well!  Haha!

We had a fairy princess party for Ellie this year.  This has been her first real birthday party with friends her age and that are not family!  Last year, we celebrated at McDonalds Play Place in Red Deer and neither of her two friends or Charlie could come.  The year before that in Burlington was ALSO a McDonalds party, but it was all of MY friends kids and none of them were actually her friends or her age.  Haha!  This year, she got to pick out the list of girls she wanted there and six of the seven were able to come.  Yay!  First real party!  We decorated fairy crowns and made glow in the dark fairy wands which they got to have a dance party with.  I gave up trying to think I could ever throw together a fairy princess cake (forget it Pinterest!) and let the kids decorate their very own cupcakes.  Why haven't I thought of this before?  So easy and such a hit!



I snapped a couple of pictures of Eleanor right before her party.  What a pretty girl!  And yes, this is January.  Green grass and no coats?!!!  I can definitely get used to these Chinooks.


Ellie, you have grown to become such a delight. It seems like you have officially passed about 80% of your sass on to Zoe (you still have at least 20%), which gives me hope that maybe Zoe will partially grow out of her sass one day too.  Only to pass it on to Jane I'm sure.  I am happy to report that you LOVE school and you love your teacher.  This new experience this year with losing you to school every other day has shown me how independent you can be.  Sometimes it is scary, and sometimes I am straight up proud.  It means you are growing up way too fast, but it has also made you an incredible older sister who responds when I ask for help with this or that (when you're not being sassy).  On the days you are home and it's just you and Zoe, you truly become the best of friends.  I love watching you play.  Maybe you love it because you get to be in charge a little and become her little Mommy.  "Okay Zoe, come over here!  We're going to do this now...."  Sometimes she lets you and sometimes she doesn't, but either way, I have watched you become more patient and kind and loving towards her this year and it's such a treat as your Mom to see.

My favourite these days is you crack us all up with your "Granny Dance."  Basically, you pull up your pants as high as they will go and lift your arms side to side while we all laugh.  You also love to fake laugh.  I will take it because it is better than fake crying!  And it sounds genuine, even if sometimes it may be forced.

It is also neat to see you be able to read on your own.  We read scriptures as a family every day and these days you are all about reading your very own verse on your own (no more repeating after Mom or Dad).  It may be slow-going sometimes because there are some hard words in the New Testament!  But you take the time to sound them out and I'm always impressed at how close you are!  Your teacher has just started sending books home to read together for home-reading that are at a Kindergarten level, but because we already read together so much, they are a cinch for you!  Well done Missy.

You also have a level of sensitivity and depth that scares me sometimes.  Today at the dinner table you started to tear up and tell us how you didn't want Daddy and I to die and how you didn't want to die and that you will miss us if we all died.  Where did this come from?  I have no idea!  But we talked about how that is WAY down the road for all of us and that we are a forever family, so no matter what we will always be together.  And then our whole family continued to share all the deep things that scare them.  (Noah:  What if we never existed?"  Jackson:  What if we never existed AND all we saw was black all the time?!).  What children think of these things??  Mine do.

Your favourite show these days is a fairy/unicorn show called, "Mia and Me."  The intro song is terrible and I'm worried that your ears will burn each time you hear it (it burns MY ears), but so far it hasn't affected you.  I hope!  It's a relatively cute show, and I'm pretty sure it's the reason you wanted a fairy themed birthday party in the first place.  You also love your video games, but when I cut you off for the day you are happy to draw and make books, or build Legos in your room.  Dad and I have a new rule where there are no video games or TV on Sunday and at first I thought it was going to be a major gong-show, but I have been so pleasantly surprised at how well all you kids just play together.  Sometimes it's imagination games/make-believe, or dress up.  It's great.  You guys actually play with your toys and you play together!  Shock and awe!  It's funny, Jackson and Noah had the choice to go to a friend's house during your party, but they chose to stay.  Jackson really wanted to show off his snake to all your friends.  So, anytime you may think you are unloved by your older brothers, know that they chose a Fairy Princess party with a bunch of little screaming girls over their own friends!

I love to hear you sing.  My one regret over the Christmas holidays was that I never did get a recording of you and I singing, "Silent Night" together.  I am sure there will be other opportunities, and maybe I will still record us even though Christmas is well over!  I also regret not having you be apart of my musical theatre class.  The age cut off was 8 (even though I said yes to a couple 7 year olds and one 6 year old).  You would have been awesome though.  And adorable.  I am amazed at how quickly you can learn a song and how well you can sing.  It certainly doesn't take long for you!

This weekend we have had not one, but TWO incidences of attempted child abductions right here in our neighbourhood.  Yay!  One was an eight year old girl who got chased by a masked man on her way to the same school you attend.  The other happened while a boy (from my musical theatre class AND in my ward) was walking his dog and the man tried to force him into his car.  Thankfully both of these children got away, but my heart and mind have been racing.  First, it makes me feel so violated that people think they can do that and get away with it!  AND in MY neighbourhood!  And second, I just can't help but think about how awful that would be if that happened to you or any of the kids!  And third, I feel like all of my paranoia over the years has been totally justified by these two crazy experiences!  I was talking to you kids again today about stranger-danger and you said, "are we going to talk about stranger-danger every day?"  Haha!  Yes.  For as long as it takes to sink in.  Noah thinks "Home Alone" is the way to go to fight the bad guys.  So, I'm pretty sure we'll be talking about it until all the safety rules kick in!  I feel like my Mom, "don't go through the field when it's dark or you'll get raped!"  My paranoia comes honestly.  And now it is validated.  And NOW I'm realizing you may get some of your deep/scary thoughts from me.  Sorry.  But probably MOSTLY from your Dad!  Haha!  He admits it.  Just know how much your Dad and I love you!  You are my sweet girl (and sometimes cat) and I just can't imagine my life without you!  Happy Birthday my beautifully sweet, sensitive, sassy six year old!