Hide-A-Key

The day was October 6. It was a Tuesday morning. Samuel's Grammy and Papa leave early in the morning. So early, in fact, that Samuel and Mommee are still in bed. But we are resting because today is the day we have to go see Dr. O at PCH for our check-up and get the details on the hypertonic saline study we will be participating in. It's a big day. Mommee is anxious about Samuel's weight...always a concern, especially since we got the "yellow light" at the last visit and half-and-half is now part of Samuel's regular diet.

Since the appointment was in Phoenix at 8:20 am and we live outside of Phoenix, I was planning on leaving our house around 7 am to allow for traffic delays. This also meant packing some easily accessible snacks for the little man.

I got up early. I got Samuel up early. We got dressed. We packed our stuff and I was loading all our stuff (the Mary Poppins purse, Samuel's diaper bag, snacks and stroller) in the car when the worst thing happened. I heard Samuel do his latest stunt: he locked the door. Not too quick to panic, I reached in my purse to grab my house keys.

The pocket was empty. I fished around, just knowing my keys were in the bottom of my bag. No keys. Just a cell phone (and a ton of other junk). I called Kevin, knowing he was already in Phoenix, about a 40 minutes drive away. Of course, he didn't answer his phone. Not one to beat around the bush, the message I left was "Call me. It's an emergency."

"That should get his heart racing. I'll teach him to ignore my phone calls!" I thought.

While waiting on my return phone call, I peeked through the window (the blinds just happened to be slightly open. I could see Samuel in small slivers). He was on his knees in a chair at the kitchen table, looking back at me. He was happy and waving, yet occasionally calling for me to come back inside.

I've never attempted to break into someone's house so I don't know the techniques of using a credit card to open a door. And, while I am resourceful, I couldn't figure out how to turn a hairpin to key. While I wanted to try those options, I just don't have the skills.

My phone rang. Kevin calling me back. I told him what happened. I think he chastised me a bit to which I promptly responded "Samuel is locked in the house, I'm outside. When we get him out, then let's play the blame game." Kevin told me to call the fire department, or wait on him to come. He was too far away, so I called my old friends at the Gilbert Fire Department. (Side-note: They should really consider a frequent caller club.)

It was more waiting and watching, secretly hoping for Samuel not to move, or at least to keep making noise so I knew where he was. The fire truck pulled up, followed soon after by a police officer who wasn't really sure what to do, but just felt the need to supervise. He tried to calm me by saying this was the second time in a month he had been on a call like this. The firemen worked on opening the door. They must have asked 10 times if the dead bolt was locked. "No. Just the knob."

There were some more questions for me:

How old is the child? He'll be two later this month.

Is he hurt? I don't think so. I haven't heard him cry.

Where is he? Um, he's in the house. I don't know where in the house because there are these walls in the way.

Then came the shocker. One of them asked me, no lie, "Are there any other older children or adults in the house with him?" I think I was so dumbfounded, I really wanted to say "Why would I have called you?" But I just said "No, it's him and the dog."

Oh, the dog. Lucy was going crazy. She is very protective anyway and she didn't understand these people were breaking into my house because I had asked them to. *sigh*

They opened the door. Lucy was there to tear their face off, I mean, greet them. Samuel was sitting in the floor with his pants around his ankles. Everyone was happy to see everyone. We thanked the firemen, went outside to see the truck, then went back inside to regroup.

Since the whole ordeal had taken longer than I had cushioned the schedule for, I called the CF nurse coordinator to let her know we would be a little, or a lot, late. We decided it would be best to just reschedule since their schedule was packed that day and there really wasn't any wiggle room. Fine by me. I needed to go get a new door knob for my door! All in all, it was much more action than I cared to see by 8:00 am. And without any coffee.

Still alive

Absent. That's me lately.

Dear Husband's parents were visiting. So any and all free time was filled with entertaining and traveling to the Grand Canyon. But I won't make more excuses. The truth is:

I didn't want to. *gasp* I know. Who knew a woman would not jump at the chance to share her opinion?

I just didn't want to. But now I do and I'm thinking about what I want to talk about. So give me a second, OK?

A Must Read

If you spend any amount of time with a person with cystic fibrosis, this is a must read. It should be mandatory.

MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 28, 2009

Caution: Harmful Fumes Ahead (for CFers)
On Thursday evening, I decided to paint my nails. I'm not much of a girly-girl, so I rarely partake in this form of pampering, but for whatever reason, I decided Thursday night was the night. Ronnie and I were watching TV, I jumped up, grabbed the the nail polish bottle, plopped back down next to Ronnie and began painting. Two nails in, Ronnie moved to the other chair. I didn't think much of it. After finishing my manicure and waving my hands in the air (who knows if that actually dries your nails faster), I moved to get closer to Ronnie in his newly selected location. As I started to get close, Ronnie lovingly said, "just so you know a little something about me," he paused, "nail polish really irritates my lungs. "IT DOES?" I replied, feeling a little bad for not knowing. How would I have known? I never paint my nails. It doesn't bother my lungs. I just didn't think about it. But after he mentioned it, it seemed like a no-brainer.

I decided to compile a list of things I know of that irritate Ronnie's lungs, in case you have little ones that can't/won't speak up:

-Smoke - this seems like an obvious one. And sure, if someone is blowing cigarette smoke in my face, I notice, but there have been many occasions where Ronnie will say, "someone's smoking, let's move" and I haven't even smelled it. This goes for other kinds of smoke also. Smoke from cigars, pipes, bon fires, burning meals, etc. After a night with a lot of smoke around, Ronnie will often cough up blood.

-Car fumes - When we're running or walking on the sidewalk of a busier street, Ronnie often complains of how the car fumes make his lungs feel and it often irritates his lungs making him cough more.

-Air fresheners and scented candles - Bathroom aerosol sprays, plug-ins, regular old candles, these often make Ronnie's lungs feel irritated and "itchy" in his words. If you're looking to "freshen" the air a little try potpourri.

-Perfume - If someone has too much perfume on (not just when spraying it) it really tightens up Ronnie's lungs. I'm not sure there's any way around this other than cutting back on the perfume usage. I do wear perfume and Ronnie has yet to complain, but when I wear it, I go light.

These are the only offenders that I know of. I didn't realize how much more sensitive CFers' lungs were. I hope this list helps.

Please visit www.runsickboyrun.blogspot.com to read the comments left. Very helpful information!

Five for Friday - Memories

Eight years ago today tragedy struck our nation. In some ways, it seems like this was just yesterday. In others, it seems like a lifetime ago.

1. I was in Anatomy & Physiology lab when a classmate told me what was happening. We were especially troubled since our college campus was neighboring Ft. Detrick. Our teacher clearly didn't understand the magnitude of the happenings. At first, she refused to dismiss class because she was concerned when we would make up the missed class but quickly relented when the administrator further explained.

2. Dear Husband and I were not Dear Husband and wife. In fact, we had only been dating for a few months. He was on vacation in Virginia, but drove up to Maryland to be with me. That was really nice of him.

3. On my way home from school, traffic was a mess. Phone lines were crazy busy. I didn't know where to go or what to do. I went home and noticed flags were already at half-mast.

4. Our church had a prayer meeting that night. I can't ever remember so many people showing up for a prayer meeting. I don't think I've seen so many show up since, either.

5. So many questions. So few answers. Such a moving day. Eight years later, still sobering.

In remembrance of those lost in connection with that day...

Thankful Thursday

Well, I've just about missed Thankful Thursday. But it's never too late to be thankful. So, here we go:

1. Applebee's Boneless Buffalo Wings (Why are my thankful items food?)

2. Munchkin Re-Usable Microwave Sterilizer Bags - Even though we are past the need for clean bottles, these bags come in very handy for sterilizing nebulizer parts.

3. My family and friends. They are the best support system and I appreciate them all.

4. My new (to me) MacBook Pro.

Let's go back.

Whenever I stumble upon a new blog that I think I might be interested in, I always like to find out how it is relevant to me. In an effort to make that easier for some new followers (welcome!), I'd like to start by giving a brief run-down on Samuel's story.

I suppose the best place to start would be at the beginning. Because I believe the beginning is before birth, I'll start there. You know what? I'll start with before conception because that's really where the story begins.

Dear husband and I had talked for a while about starting a family when we lived in Maryland. After going back a forth for a few months whether it was the "right" time or not, I announced that it was, indeed, the right time because I said so. Fast forward 1 year. We moved to Arizona. Hadn't used any form of birth control. Still no baby. No sign of a baby. Nothing. This shouldn't be. So I scheduled an appointment. We were just going to have some tests done. Without giving away everyone's business, and since this is the clean version, we were told sometime around Feb. 13 that we were welcome to keep trying but the chances of me getting pregnant the routine way would be very slim. Closer to none.

In a way, I knew this. I knew something had to be wrong. But, we figured it was in God's plan, so we took the news, took our options, and went home. We were going to pray and talk about our options and make a decision later.

The next weekend was my birthday and my parents were coming to visit, as we had moved to across the country a few months earlier. They may or may not have known of our plans, but we decided it would be a good time to tell them they might not be getting any grandchildren from us. They were understanding, supportive, and clear that whatever decision we made would be the best one. I remember my dad said, "You don't have to be a mother to be mommy and you don't have to be a father to be daddy." This difficult, yet easy, conversation took place on my birthday, Feb. 22, over dinner. It was a Thursday. Earlier that day, on a whim, and since babies were on the brain, I took a pregnancy test since it was about that time and I thought a positive test result would be the best birthday present ever! Of course, not surprisingly, the test was negative.

Friday came, but didn't bring my anticipated monthly visitor. By Friday night, I was getting a little suspicious. Saturday morning, when there was still no sign and officially late, I took another test. I was letting it "simmer" while I brushed my teeth. I didn't have my contacts in or glasses on my face, so as I was brushing (foaming at the mouth), I was squinting to see any results as they appeared. I thought I was going crazy so I called dear husband (DH) to come check things out. As fast as I could, I spit the toothpaste out of my mouth and scrambled to find my glasses while DH peered over a little stick. He said, "I don't know, E. It looks like 2 lines to me." Indeed. There WERE TWO lines on the stick and we were going a little nuts. My parents were still visiting. My mom had been asleep on the couch downstairs so we raced downstairs, waving the urine-soaked stick in the air. My mom quickly figured out what was going on. My dad, hearing the commotion, came downstairs but was a bit confused as to why we were all looking at a pink stick and crying. Finally, my mom explained what it was. Already, we had beat the odds. You can imagine a few weeks later, visiting the same doctor who had said "good luck" and making him eat his words. It was a great feeling.

Pregnancy was smooth. We opted for no prenatal testing since a) we thought we were low-risk. No birth defects in either family. No diseases, we thought, on either side and b) it wouldn't make a difference anyway. This baby was so prayed for. When the nosy people asked "Were you trying?" I liked to say "It was hoped for but unexpected." (BTW - Don't ever ask that. It's NOYB.)

Samuel was due on October 30, 2007. Then he was due on October 28, 2007. On Saturday, October 28, I dressed up as a bag of Jelly Belly jelly beans for our church/community harvest party. I was so big it just seemed to fit. I won first place in the costume contest. I think they just had pity on me for dressing up when I was due to give birth that day.

On Sunday, October 29, my dear friend Audrey came over and took pictures of my big preggo belly. It was a nice way to pass the time.

On Monday, October 30, someone (who will remain nameless) called my phone at 6 AM to ask me "Have you had that baby yet?" Um, no. And thanks for waking up a pregnant lady. Thanks a lot. Since I couldn't go back to sleep for some minor contractions, I went to Chick-Fil-A and got some chicken biscuits for me and DH and a chocolate milkshake for Samuel.

For most of the rest of the day, I napped on the couch and waited. Didn't have any of the minor contractions I had experienced that morning for the next several hours.

I don't want this to be really long so I'm going to pause here to allow for reflection. Or maybe just a break. Stay tuned for the rest of the story.

Five for Friday - Ways to spend the day off

Recently, I have been thinking about incorporating a theme to my blog instead of just the usual brain dump on a random day. I'll probably still have a random theme from time to time, but today, it's Five-for-Friday. And today's subject is my five ways to spend the day off with my son, since that's what Friday's have been as of late.

1. Get a late start and take our time with morning treatments. *Note: This is not a good plan. It's best to do this early when Samuel is still sleepy and less willing to fight. Like here:

2. Make pancakes for breakfast (which is turning into brunch. See #1.)

3. Keep my promise to go to the splash pad at local shopping center. Hopefully the big bully kids are all in school. HA!

(Thanks to Lucy's mom - the OTHER Lucy's mom - for sharing the high-calorie popsicle recipe! Samuel loves them!)

4. Finally put my pork roast in the crock pot so I don't have to scramble to make dinner tonight.

5. Clean up the muddy paw prints through my house. Lucy insisted on going out late last night after it rained. Since our back "yard" is just mud, this wasn't a good plan.

So there you have it! The first installation of Five-for-Friday and even a five picture bonus!

Have a blessed day.