The Color Run

Back in May (or was it March? I can't remember.) The Color Run was just coming out and it was totally the next "new" thing.  I had been looking for a 5k to run and thought that it looked promising and lots of fun.  I chatted with my long-time friend Raechel, and we joined as a team (because, come on, you get it cheaper that way!) along with her husband, Ryan.

 

Now, as it happens, both of our lives got insanely busy as the months went on.  We had already signed up and paid, so we were going to run it.  But, at the race,  the three of us were commenting on how we really didn't feel invested.  We were excited, but not nearly as excited as the man getting to run in his Elvis suit, or the lady wearing a wedding dress.  We felt under-enthused and under-dressed.

 

Even ill prepared as we were, we still had a ton of fun!   While it was MUCH different than what I was expecting (a lot of walkers, very few runners) we still managed to finish in only a minute over what my very first 5k time was two years ago (?!?)  We got to experience parts of Nashville I've never seen, and we ran through a yellow color "cloud" in an alley that was a totally different experience, unlike anything I have done or ever will do again. (Imagine walking into an actual cloud, but yellow.)  The other colors were fun, but nothing quite like that yellow.

(Speaking of the other colors, did any of the videos turn out, Rae?)



 

 



2/3 of Team Color My Feet.

 Raechel and I are down there somewhere.  Likely waiting in line for the world's worst port-a-john.

(also, E's finger.)

 My crew came out to cheer us on, sock feet and all. (I like to pretend these things don't happen when I'm not around.  I packed her shoes. But, alas, photographic evidence.)

 

 At the finish line there was a color throw.  We did not fully participate because we didn't realize there was a countdown based on the wave of runners you were in.  We just threw our packets up into the air on each other.

 

 

 After the race.  We're 30, kicking butt, and taking names!

 

 

Me, after sunglasses removal

We need to find a doctor with a loyalty punch card

In the past 2 weeks:

Eliza- in for allergic reaction (she ate ranch dressing.) Also, on a different day, there for her 12 month check up.

Isaac- in for a hideous rash on his face that is not responding to, as of now, 4 different kind of medications.

Olivia- Height and weight check, along with blood work, and orders for a bone scan.


4 times in 2 weeks.  Numerous phone calls.  Plus, likely another visit to the dr. tomorrow for the baby, who has been throwing up for days, unable to keep anything but tiny amounts of breast milk down.

This.  This is the stuff that overwhelms me.  This is the stuff that makes me stop and think "maybe I AM done having children." even though I still really, really want another.  This is the stuff I sit and fret over at night, praying to God to heal my babies, and calm my anxious heart.

But, this is life.  Its our life.  Though it may seem sucky, I'm trying to find peace in the small things.  Like how I love the nurse at our pediatrician's office.  How my baby girl is actually cuddly and snugly, even though I hate the reason why.  How I got to spend some one-on-one girl time with my eldest while we waited for her bone scan.  How our family pictures on Saturday will be that much more unique and memorable with Zeke's facial prettiness. (I'm serious, here.  Its a story we can laugh about later, right??)

Its our life.

A list to check off, yet here I blog

~Eliza's first birthday party is tomorrow.  I have a mile long list of things to do.  A long list of things to while Eliza's napping.  She's napping now, in fact.  Yet, here I sit. 

~I'm tired.  I love getting creative, decorating for parties.  However, I'm lacking serious motivation that was likely stolen from me at 5 am.

~At 5am we all heard a very loud bump in the night.  Followed by an equally loud scream from babykins.  E whispered to me "Did Eliza just fall out of the crib?"  To which I replied "how could she?!?"

~She, in fact, DID fall out of the crib.  She seems fine.  With all of the adrenaline surging through her little 16 lb body, she did not go back to sleep, as usual, after her morning milk.  Which means *I* did not go back to bed, nor did any of the older 3 children.

~Eliza's crib has only one more notch to move down.  Is this sleeping arrangement REALLY supposed to last her until she's 3?  After last night, I have high doubts that it will.

~When E left for work today, I ran after his van screaming "please don't leave me!!!"  Zeke was screaming "I didn't say goodbye" even whilst waving at his daddy.  Eliza was death gripping my leg, and the older two kids were fighting over who was getting the napkins. 

~I made homemade butterfingers last night.  It probably wasn't the smartest thing to combine 3 of my favorite things, (chocolate, candy corn, and peanut butter) and expect some kind of miraculous self control on my part.

~I'm in a funk with running.  My last few runs have been blah.  I threw up in our yard after my last run, thus motivating me even less than normal.

~Eliza went down for a nap at 7:30.

~I wanted to go down for a nap at 7:30.  Or now.  I'd take a nap now, too.

The fourth child syndrome

While I don't have a baby book for Eliza (for either of my last two kids, actually) I do have these.  I imagine its probably a better option than me forgetting to write in her baby book anyway. 

 

A year

Its amazing how quickly a year can go by.  (It always seems so much faster when the kids are really little.  Maybe because they change so much in a year?)

 

 

From this:

 

 

To this:

 

Inside, night time pictures are never good.  I'm glad I got a few earlier in the day.

Guys, this girl.  She melts me heart.

slight birthday depression

I'm normally nostalgic around birthdays.  Especially first birthdays.  But, y'all, Eliza's birthday is coming up in 2 days and I'm almost bordering on depressed.  I mean, I am glad she's alive, thriving, and turning one (obviously) but I've just been so sad.

I'm sure its a mixture of lots of things.

Isaac stopped sucking his fingers after his accident.  It seems so grown up.  Its sad.  He's growing up.  Which means Eliza WILL grow up.  She's likely our last baby.  When I think on that, I think about all of our babies that we'll never get to celebrate birthdays with. 

Its a downward spiral into an emotional pit.

So, for once in several months, I'd like for my baby's birthday just to hurry up and get here already.  So I can get over this funk.

See you Thursday.

Tracy

He has me in stiches

Zeke's ankle bracelet



Saturday evening, we had to make our second, ever, E.R. visit. (Unfortunately, it was for the same child. He had a concussion before.)

We were heading to Grandma's house for dinner. Isaac asked to wear his Cars jammies. I mean, it was almost dinner time, we were just going to grandma's house, and he'd be changing into his jammies there soon anyway. Why not let him wear p.j.s?

Well, it turns out that we did make another stop. As we were getting everything/one loaded into the van, Isaac climbed up into his seat, as usual. He leaned over the edge to look at something (we think here. Not really sure.) and he fell out of his seat, out of the van, onto the garage floor. He bit all the way through his lip.

Now, as it happens, E and I weren't standing right there. I was getting food, diapers, etc. for Eliza in the house. E was loading up the back of the van. All of a sudden, I hear E yell my name. He yelled it in such a way that I knew some body had to go to the hospital. He brought in a screaming Zeke, completely covered in blood. (Y'all, it was so much blood. All over my sweet babies face, shirt and hands.)

I quickly grabbed a wet towel to put pressure on it. After I held it there for a second, I lifted up the now very bloody rag (which, of course, was a stark white burp cloth of Eliza's. oh well. She took one for the team.) and saw how bad it really was.

Thankfully, the other three kids were already buckled in their seats, waiting to go to grandma's. We rushed to the brand new E.R. right around the corner (which, in hindsight, we should've gone to the ped's E.R. Its a longer drive, but usually a shorter wait. Plus, much better for kiddos.) They sort of freaked when they saw blood all over him. We hadn't taken the time to clean him up. I just put pressure on it, drove with me sitting next to him keeping pressure on it. I hadn't even thought of the blood elsewhere.

We then proceeded to wait for 3.5 hours. Through out the course of the 3.5 hours, Isaac kept a diaper (cloth) pressed up against his lip. (He said the pressure made it feel better.) He was mostly calm, snugly, unless he had to take the pressure off for a nurse/orderly/doctor to check his lip. Then, it would start bleeding again, and he'd start crying again.  

 



 

At one point, he even got up and played with the sand table.  It didn't last long, however, because he couldn't do much with one hand.  When he let go to try to slide the critters over, he started screaming again.

 

Thankfully, my IL's came and got O and A right away.  They ate dinner at their house.  Eliza hung with us for a while.  E was chasing after her while I snuggled Zeke.  After hour 3, we had them stop by the hospital to pick up Eliza (after I nursed her) and take them all to our house to go to bed.  

 



 



 

 

One of the hardest times in my parenting career previously was watching a very tiny, and very dehydrated, O get an I.V. They couldn't find a vein and it was very rough.  Watching Zeke get his stitches was right up there with that, guys.  I was secretly balling inside.  They swaddled him in a blanket, then removed his diaper (which he kept screaming "I need my rag!!") then they held him down while the dr. injected the litocain into his wide-open lip.  It was terrible.  There was blood every where (since it started bleeding like crazy again when they took off the diaper.) he was swallowing it, and they just kept sticking him with the needle. 

 

The actual stitches went much better, but they covered his eyes.  He kept calling out for E and I, and we kept reassuring him that we were there, touching his knee/foot/leg, etc.  

After all of that was finished, all he could concentrate on was the strings in his lip.  He kept begging us to take them out.  That was when the nurse took him to pick out a Popsicle. (hurrah!) 

When we got home, he had some apple sauce and crashed. (by then, it was 9:30.) 

 

 

 

The day after:

 

He doesn't seem to mind the stitches much now.  The hardest part has been his inability to suck his fingers for comfort.  He's having a really hard time falling, and staying, asleep.  So, he's extra tired, and he can't even comfort himself when he's grumpy/angry/sad/frustrated either. *sigh* 

 

So, that was our Saturday evening.  While it was an adventure, I think I'd rather hang out at home in our jammies next time.