A Place for Everything

Well, clearly my last attempt at a blogging come back was a major fail.  While I really want to get back to it, it’s hard for me to come up with things to write about that I think people would want to read.  Sure a lot happens in our busy life but it’s mostly stuff that other parents and families deal with on a regular basis and who wants to be reading about the things that they’re experiencing for themselves firsthand anyway?  So that’s been my blogging conundrum.. until recently.

We’re coming up on the three year anniversary of moving in to our house.  Moving here has been one of the best decisions we’ve ever made.  We love our town, our neighborhood and our home.  We really fit in and feel a sense of belonging here.  We’ve made some really great friends, my girls go to amazing schools, and we just couldn’t be happier.

That said, it’s taken just about as long as we’ve lived here for us to finally unpack and find a home for all of our “stuff”.  Sure we moved here from a smaller place with younger children, and one would think, less stuff but for some reason, we just hadn’t found a home or a place for everything.  Or at least not the right place.  Things were shoved in places and thrown in a closet just to get them out of boxes and in the house.  A lot of those things are never used or just take up space that could be used for something else.  After finally having a feel on where things should go in our house, the time to organize, purge and rearrange has arrived!

Thanks to resources like Pinterest and reading other blogs such as Young House Love, iHeart Organizing and Sunny Side Up, I’ve caught a little bit of an organizing bug.  And let me tell you, it’s far better than the flu that’s been going around.  I’ve made a few changes, that will hopefully stick, and we’ve bought some new organizational tools to help put things in order.  We’re still working on decluttering the garage, but we’re getting there.

So, stay tuned to learn how I’ve gained cabinet space, made my 6 year old fashionista’s clothing more manageable, created a space for my girls to be creative, and fell in love with a piece of furniture.  Here’s to a more organized 2013 and a come back of sorts for this blog.  Is anyone still reading?

Making an Attempt

With all that has happened, is happening and will happen in the future, I really want to make an effort to get this blog back up and running. If not for anyone else, at least for me. I really do enjoy putting words together about the goings on in our lives and it helps me to keep track of when different things have happened. For example all the ER trips and stitches and such. Not that I really want to remember all of those experiences necessarily, but it’s nice to have a place to turn to when I do want to recall how we dealt with it, what we did to treat it, etc… But I digress.

What I’m saying is that I’m going to attempt to make a come back. Key word here: attempt. I’ve done it a few times before and have vanished each time so I can’t make promises. Really though, like I said, I’m doing it for myself so who cares what you think anyway! HA!

What’s with my kids and head injuries?!

I have no idea what is with my kids, mostly Nora, and head injuries.  I’m not talking about serious ones that might be life altering, but simply the ones that involve hitting, banging, or cutting the head.  If you know us personally or have followed my blog in the past (yes, I know I haven’t blogged in a while) then you’ve seen my posts on facial lacerations including stitches and dermabond here, here , here and here.  I know it seems crazy that I have four posts related to facial injuries, scars, stitches, etc but it’s our reality.  But the saga continues!

Back on February 16th Nora had a run in with a wall, specifically the place where two walls meet at a corner in a doorway.  Scott and I had literally just sat down to eat dinner and the girls were supposed to be watching a TV show before bed.  Well, whenever Scott and I try to eat a nice dinner by ourselves, Nora is always coming and checking up on us.  I heard her start to come down the hall but didn’t think anything of it.  She wasn’t even running, which is amazing in itself.  Then, all of a sudden Scott and I heard the loudest bang we’ve ever heard inside our house.  He looked right at me and said, “This is going to be bad!”  I dropped my fork and ran to the hall to find Nora on the floor screaming her little head off.  I scooped her up into my arms and that is when I saw the blood on her forehead.  There was a lot of it.  Somehow I have the ability to remain pretty calm in these type of situations and I told Scott to get me a towel so I could apply pressure to the wound.  It was hard to tell right away the severity of the wound and not knowing exactly what to do, we decided to call 911.  Nora was pretty hysterical and kept saying she was tired and was starting to hyperventilate a bit.

I sat on the kitchen floor, cradling Nora while holding the towel over her wound while Scott stood watch for the EMTs, firefighters and police officers. Oh yes, we had all of those people at our house that night.  In less than five minutes the firefighters arrived, two big stalky guys came into the house and we were all crouched on the kitchen floor.  They were the nicest guys ever and asked about what happened and looked at the wound.  They agreed that it was pretty bad and determined that she didn’t have a concussion.  They wrapped her head with gauze to cover the wound. The EMTs arrived next along with a police officer.  We decided not to go to the hospital in an ambulance for a few reasons  – 1.  It was almost 8pm and I wanted Brinely to be able to get to bed (she was pretty upset about the whole situation) and if we went in the ambulance Scott and Brinley would have to come pick us up when we were done, and 2.  They wanted to strap Nora to a backboard for the ride.  Since the bleeding had stopped, she didn’t have a concussion, and she was already pretty upset, I thought that strapping her to a backboard and putting her in the ambulance would just have been too much trauma for her for one night.

So after all the emergency responders had left, I took Nora and drove her to the nearest hospital.  On the way there I kept talking to her to make sure she was ok and that she didn’t fall asleep.  It also started to rain which I didn’t think much of until we arrived at the hospital and there was no where to park near the ER.  I circled around a few times but nothing opened up so I had to park on the other side of the parking lot an carry Nora, in the rain, over to the ER.  Granted it wasn’t that far, but it just added to the chaos.

Once inside, we checked in and had a seat in the waiting room.  She was initially checked out pretty quickly by the intake nurse and I though this would be a quick visit, but boy was I wrong.  We sat and sat in that waiting room for an hour, then two hours, then nearly three.  It occurred to me after about the first hour that I hadn’t eaten anything since about noon that day.  By this point, Nora was just about back to her normal self.  She was waving at other babies in the ER and asking questions about the other “sick” people.  I finally spotted a vending machine and was quite relieved only to realize that I had zero cash in my wallet.  At that point, Nora was also asking for water.  I felt so unprepared, but then again, this is the Emergency Room and who is ever prepared to be there?  We took a few walks to the bathroom, not necessarily to go, but more to pass the time and I noticed a man filling the vending machines.  I asked if any of the machine took credit cards, even though I was pretty sure the answer was no.  The guy said no, but gave me 2 bottles of water for free.  He didn’t have the key to the machine with the food in it though.

Not too long after that, we were called back to a room.  We waited some more, and then a doctor finally came in.  She looked at the wound and said it definitely needed to be stitched and that it was pretty deep.  I was fearing it though sort of expected it.  Nora was lucky to have gotten off with just dermabond last time.  So I texted Scott to update him and then we got ready.  Nora was pretty tired at this point and but she was very cooperative.  She sat up on the table, laid down when told, and barely flinched when they put the numbing stuff in her wound.  They did have to wrap her up in a sheet so she couldn’t move while being stitched, but that’s procedure anyway.  Since the wound was so deep that had to put a mattress stitch underneath and then five more stitches on the outside.  They gave her some Tylenol for the pain, bandaged her up and we were on our way home – over three hours later!

It was a crazy, scary night that I’ll never forget.  But now, almost a month later, she is healing well and I know she’ll be fine.  We use Mederma a few times a day and cover the area with a band aid when we go out in the sun.  The wound is off to the side on her forehead and closer to her hairline than her eyebrow so hopefully it will stay out of sight for the most part.  Of course, she had to choose the brightest most colorful band aids they sell to wear out in the sun.  It suits her though.  She’s the type of kid that when injured she wants everyone to know about it!

So that’s the story of my second kid, under the age of three, having stitches in her forehead.  But if you think I’m finished with the head injuries, you’re wrong!  Just yesterday, Nora was playing out on the porch and she came in to show me something.  She has a tendency to carry more than she can handle and when she came in through the door, she wasn’t paying attention and walked right into the door knob.  No, she didn’t cut herself but she does have a little bruised egg on the opposite side of her forehead.

I’m seriously thinking of getting the kid a helmet. ::Sigh::


Nothing But a Number..

When I was growing up it seemed to me that all of my friends’ parents were roughly the same age.  I’m not entirely sure if that was true, but it just seemed that way.  Maybe it’s because they were so much older than I was that their ages all just fit in to the same category - old.  I could probably do some homework now and figure out of it was true or not, but that’s beside the point.

I met my husband when I was 19.  I was a freshman in college.  Of course at that time, I didn’t know he’d be my husband.  That was almost 12 years ago!  We continued to date throughout college, he graduated, got a “real” job, I graduated, got a “real” job, and then we moved in together.  Within a year we were engaged.  After a year and a half engagement, we were married.  A little over a year after that, our first child, Brinley, was born.  I’ll save you time from doing the math… I was engaged at 23, married at 24 and had my first baby at 25.  Sometimes I’d hear that I was so young or moving too fast, but I never let that bother me.

Now, nearly 12 years after meeting my husband, Scott, I am happily married, have two beautiful daughters and pretty much living the life I always imagined.  My older daughter is in Kindergarten this year.  She’s involved in a slew of activities outside of school.  I’ve met lots of other moms along my journey and I wonder how Brinley perceives us all.  Does she just think we’re all old?  Does she think we’re all the same age?  I know for a fact that she has friends who’s parents are almost 20 years older than I am.  She also has friends who’s parents are younger than I am, though not by much.  I’d agree that I’m probably one of the younger moms but that doesn’t seem to have any effect on my relationships with other moms I meet, younger or older.

I hear quite a bit that I’m so young or just getting started but other than some years, I have a lot in common with the moms that are 5, 10 and even 20 years older than me.  We all have kids the same age and that is the equalizer.  Our age… it’s nothing but a number.

How to Ruin a Surprise (or Not)

Yesterday was Brinley’s 5th birthday.  Scott and I had given her all of her presents from us at her family-and-close-friends party on Saturday and were felling a little bad that we didn’t have anything to give her on her actual birthday.  So on Tuesday, after Brinley got on the bus for school, I took Nora up to Toys R Us to get Brinley a new bike. 

{Aside: Brinley has a bike but it’s way too small for her and she stinks at riding it because her legs are too long.  She can’t build up enough momentum on it and gets frustrated.  We’d talked about getting her a bike back and forth but didn’t want to invest a lot of money so close to winter in fear that she might outgrow this one just as fast as the last.  Well, turns out that the bike she liked last time we were at Toys R Us happened to be on sale for $49 so we figured it woudln’t break the bank.  Then when I got to the store, I was informed that it was on clearance for 25% off of that.  So it only ended up costing me $35!}

So, Nora and I go in the store, I find the bike (it was the last one!) and grab it.  I also get her a cute little basket for the front because she keeps talking about putting her (already-named-but-not-yet-and-may-never-be-owned) puppy, Sprinkles, in a basket to take him for rides.  Nora and I get back in the car with the (unassembled) bike and basket and head back home for nap time.  The entire excursion was pretty uneventful and we were back home in no time.

Later that night after the girls were in bed, Scott and I assembled the bike and left it in the downstairs family room with the plan to give it to her after breakfast the next day, her actual birthday.  So morning comes, I made chocolate chip pancakes and we we ate breakfast as a family to celebrate Brinley’s birthday.  Scott mentioned to Brinley that we had a present for her and her face lit up.  Then Nora chimes in, “We got you a bike, Brinley.”  I try to change the subject with Nora and direct her toward her pancakes because I was pretty sure Brinley didn’t really hear her.  Then she says it again, “Right, mom?  We got Brinley a new bike for her birthday?  Hey Brinley we got you a new bike.  It’s for your birthday.”  Ugh.  Brinley is complete into her pancakes and I still think she may not have caught on.  But the she looks up and says, “I don’t want a bike for my birthday.” FAIL!

I figured the surprise was ruined but we all just carried on eating our pancakes and pretending like that conversation never happened.  We finished breakfast, I gave the girls baths and got them dressed.  Then Scott went down and got the bike.  When Brinley saw it, she was really excited.  It was the exact one that she had picked out and she hopped right on it and started riding it in the house!

So I guess the surprise wasn’t ruined after all. Only a two year old to could try to ruin a surprise and fail!

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