The Power of Zero

I like that my kids are old enough to get themselves basic snacks. I love making them food & goodies, but sometimes it's nice when they get themselves some crackers & cheese. They've all had to take my "Proper Use of a Microwave" course before they are allowed to use it unsupervised.

Anyway on Saturday, about mid-morning snack time, I'm in my room and Grant comes running in, "Um, Mommy? There's smoke coming from the microwave."

What the what?! I sprint to the kitchen and sure enough, the microwave is open and there is smoke billowing from inside. There isn't any actual fire, so the girls and I scramble to open doors, shut other doors and get the smoke OUT! While I'm windmilling a dishtowel in the direction of the door, I notice Grant is nowhere in sight. I call for him and he slinks into the kitchen. I asked him what happened. He said, "I think I put 'three-zero-zero' instead of just 'three-zero'. I told him he's not in trouble, just pay attention next time. I'm not one to throw stones, I've put various food items in for 'four-five-zero' instead of 'four-five', etc.

Is the cheese on bread done?

That's not a bite...

That's a bite!

But not a spider bite, an insect bite. Either ant or some sort of crawly thing. Let's start at the very beginning (a very good place to start).

6:53 a.m.: Grant comes into my room and props his leg up on the bed by my head. "This itches and hurts, Mommy." Well good morning to you, too, buddy. I take a look at his leg and there's this egg-sized red lump on his shin. Grant is a tough boy. He doesn't really complain (about pain or discomfort) so if he's complaining, he's not crying wolf. I could see that he was walking, so it probably wasn't a broken bone. *whew*

7:09 a.m.: I've gotten him dosed with Benadryl, applied some Cortizone-10, and put an ice pack on it. The Health Unit doesn't open until 8:30 am. We wait and I Google "spider bites" until then.

8:34 a.m.: I call the Health Unit and recount the previous two paragraphs. She recommends going to a local pediatrician. I'm less than thrilled. But take into account my experience, which is Egypt, the Land of Inefficiency. She gives me the contact info and I call the number for the office, make an appointment. The appointment is for 10:30 and they'll also need to start a file on him, so it might take a while. I call Spence and tell him I need back-up.

10:23 a.m.: We arrive at IHB and march into the lobby. Everything is clean, professional and efficient. From opening a file for Grant to us walking back to the car took 35 minutes. We saw a wonderful pediatrician, Dr. Beltagi. I told him what I had already done, he examined Grant and said, "Why did you come in? You've already done everything I would have told you to do." Well pat me on the back call me burped!

11:06 a.m.: Back at home; Grant & Mairyn are playing Super Mario Bros battle on the DSs and all is well. Better safe than sorry.

Grant is an all or nothing kid. When he reacts he REACTS! When he's okay, he's the epitome of mellow yellow. I've just never seen a reaction that leaves a lump the size of a deviled egg! Grant really knows how to react.

He's a survivor

Spence just got a couple DVDs of "Survivorman" and all the kids love it. Especially our little man, Grant. He has been running around the house, scavenging odds and ends to add to his nest/camp. Let's back up to the beginning. (a very good place to start)

First thing: The DVDs arrive. We watch the first 2 episodes in one night. The next day, Grant has hijacked every couch throw pillow and piled them all together. Laid out in a ring, are the long, fat pillows from the pillow pit. Then stacked like masonry, the small square couch pillows are evenly distributed around the long pillows. Then, the huge king size snuggly blanket is thrown over it all and carefully smoothed out and tucked in. Then Grant crouches in the middle of it and the whole thing weirdly resembles Big Bird's nest.

Objects he has scavenged: two wood skewers from my kitchen cupboards, a broken stick (don't ask me where he found that), some strips of fabric from my scrap pile, and other things I don't know if I recognize. When I asked him what the sticks and fabric were for, he said (with a "well, duh" look on his face) "To start a fire!" Oo-kay. It does make sense; Les Stroud started a matchless fire the other night with just a string and a stick.

It's really seeping into his imagination, though. He looks at everything now through survivor mentality glasses. "Hmmm, those palm fronds would make a good roof for a shelter!" I think this kid is definitely ready for scouts. Last thing, I was fixing dinner and Grant wanders in, looking for a snack. (of course.) He hops up on the counter (it's allowed here, the cabinets are even high for me) finds a packet of crackers to eat and all the while, muttering under his breath, "One man ... alone ... no food ... no water ... no help for seven days" At least he'll be prepared if the unthinkable should happen?

Get ready explorers!

Presenting the project that has been my pain in the rear for the past 3 days! The first 'little thing' I have sewn from my new book "Little things to sew" by Oliver & S. It would have been a lot easier if I had used different fabric. This fabric is rough & tough, exactly what my boy needs. I could get into the details of what I should have done, what I will/won't do next time, but that will bore everyone but me.

Grant modeling his vest. Yes, he had spaghetti for dinner.

Aside from the struggles I had with the fabric, I love love loved making this vest! The directions were clear & easy to understand (once I wrapped my stupid brain around them) and I will totally make it again!

Yes, that's a narwhal on his shirt. They're the coolest mammal ev-ah.

He is showing off the inside of the jacket. I am especially pleased with the lining. The original pattern does not have pockets on the inside. But when I was putting the pieces of the vest on Grant (for sizing) he looked on the inside flap and said, "Where's the pockets on the inside?" It gave me an idea, and so the secret pockets on the inside were added. There was supposed to be a big pocket on the back of the vest. I didn't not add it. What is the point of a pocket back there? You know what would happen? He'd be constantly running to find me, "Mommy, can you put my army guy in that back pocket?" and in another five minutes, "Mommy, can you take my army guy out of the back pocket?" and so on and . . . you get the idea.

I'm also proud of these bellows pockets. There was a simple version & a 'more difficult' one. I chose the difficult one because I liked the idea of bigger pockets. Boy howdy, it took a while to wrap my brain around the concept, but now that they're done, they're so easy!

Here's a better up-close picture. This is a pocket on the inside. See how he can stick his whole hand in?

I left off any sort of buttons or snaps for now. He's flipping the vest inside out so that all the pockets get a turn on the inside. The biggest thing I'll change when I make it next time? If I use this duck cloth, I'll have a thinner fabric for the lining. (I broke two sewing machine needles on this project. yeowtch.)

All he wants for Christmas

Are those two front teeth!
But I'm guessing he'll still want the basket ball hoop that is wrapped & waiting under the tree! ;)

Grant's Quest to become a Unicorn

I give you, Grant. The human, I don't know what, accident? That sounds awful. But here is what he did late yesterday afternoon. Apparently he was scaling the railing (rhyme much?) on the porch and then decided to climb on top of it and climb on the small stone lip that runs along the house, just under the window. I think he had just made it to the lip when he fell on his face. Literally. Though flat face probably would have included teeth. He fell on his head. I think if he had broken his nose, it would have been bleeding. And I didn't discover his unicorn horn until I after I had cleaned up his nose & was just playing with his hair. Geez. This kid. I kept an eye on him after he perked up. No concussion or anything.

Here he is this morning. Looking a lot better. He was worried that he would 'always' have a bump. I told him it would get smaller & eventually disappear.

"Tomorrow? Will it disappear tomorrow?" Grant pleaded.

No, Grant. Not tomorrow, but soon. Then once everything looks right again, you'll do something else. You and Murphy's Law are BFFs.

Happy Birthday, Grant!

Well, I can't believe it. My baby boy is 6 years old.

Progress

How is it possibly Friday? This week has felt so short, but yet felt like an eternity at the same time. Grant has been improving day by day. He has been on a soft & liquid diet and since Wednesday, allowed soft & cut up food. It's like I have a baby again! Applesauce, yogurt, jell-o, cut up cheese, turkey, & bread. We're taking the wait and see approach with his two front teeth. The dentist wants to try and keep them around for as long as possible. So we're trying to enable that. Though he did say that from the x-rays, he could tell Grant has bumped these teeth many, many times. True dat.

The other progress I made this week: my sideways bookshelf. I was measuring some storage boxes and realized I could put in 3 shelves on the end sections! That extended the project a bit. But now they are all in. I'm spray painting it a textured multi-color black. Meaning the color is black with teeny tiny flecks of white and gray mixed in. As you can see from the sheet, I've started with the back; hiding any early screw-ups. It's not coming out exactly the way I want it to. I may have another run to the spray-paint store to try and remedy this. Don't worry, I'm motivated! There is a slight chance of precipitation Friday night. Though in Rexburg, that means, "Not a chance!" But that doesn't mean there won't be ice! I hate scraping!

What a pain

Ah, Grant. What am I going to do with you? It's still a fact; all of the posts associated with the "injuries" label also include Grant. And vice versa. So, on the first day of NaBloPoMo, Grant decides to take a header into the gravel road at Grandma's. Here, take a look. *warning* they are not for the weak of stomach. I can handle pretty much any injury that comes my way. (with Grant, it's a prerequisite!) But mouth injuries, I'm not so good.



The kids were all running out to Grandma's mailbox. Or should I say, what's left of it. It was a casualty of Halloween. Some jerks (they don't know who) completely trashed it. Ripped the mailbox part off the top, bent the steel post anchoring it in the ground. It wasn't some random baseball smash job. Or maybe it was, I'm no expert on mailbox vandalism. So they're all running out and Grant simply trips, but trips hard. No hands out in front to catch him. (probably running with his hands in his pockets. He likes to do that lately) We're thinking his mouth hit first because that's where the most damage is. His front tooth is pointing inward now and, well, you can see the rest of the damage. I called a dentist friend and he said the ER wouldn't do anything, just bring him into the office in the morning. Great. I've also got to get a husband off to the airport by 11am.




Oh, and think about NaBloPoMo. Why? Well, I see it as a challenge. I haven't done it yet and I really want to try. So there. This was probably one of the biggest obstacles I'll face this month, still managing to blog and deal with a Grant injury, and it's only the first! Wait, no, I didn't type that. Great. I'm jinxed.

First Day of School

All I can say is, "IT'S ABOUT FREAKIN' TIME!!!" I have had kids home 24/7 since their last day of school on April 9th. Yes, I know the date. We left Cairo on the 12th.

The kids began at the Jefferson Montessori school at 8:30 am sharp. We were there at 8:25 am. Spencer called at about 7am to say hi to them on the first day of school and wish them luck. I have to say, I had my alarm set for 7am; my mobile rings at 6:55am.

me: "uggghhh hullo?"
Spencer (nice & perky): "Hi hon! How's it going? I wanted to talk to the kids before they left for school."

None of the kids were up yet, but they needed to be anyway. He talked, I woke up, eating and dressing ensued. Then the first day of school pictures. Eliza & Mairyn were pretty compliant. Grant, on the other hand, was VERY excited, to say the least. We got at least one good one.

I dropped them off and Jacqueline wanted to know where her class was! She was very irked until we got back in the car, I offered to turn on Dora and all was right in the universe. Since I don't have a laundry room, or washer & dryer, for that matter, I went down to the local Magic Suds. I commandeered 6 washers for the task. Jacqueline was very helpful and it all seemed to be falling back into place. Helping do the laundry was one of Jacqueline's favorite tasks. But all summer, we were either at a hotel or just throwing in a quick load when we could mooch some time at someone's house we were visiting. It was a very frustrating summer. Anyway, all went well. The kids love their teachers and I love having a bit of a life back.

What he's done

Unfortunately, I think I may be the only person with a song association to the post title. One: It's a really awesome song on Guitar Hero. Two: if you are familiar with the first Transformers movie, it's a song in the soundtrack. Also, it's the first thing that popped into my head when I heard Eliza's announcement.

I was in my room trying to talk to Spence on Skype, alone, without any interruptions. Some other kindergarteners in the neighborhood had just gotten home, and so Grant & Jacqueline were busy running around the backyard with them; Mairyn & Eliza were happy playing & herding them around. I had had about 10 minutes of peace when Eliza came running in.

"Mommy, Mommy do you you know what Rider has done?"

"No, what?"

"He pooped. He POOPED in the driveway." (Rider is like, 2)

Really? I wasn't too concerned. I told her to go tell Rider's Mommy and she'll get it cleaned up. I asked if anyone was getting near it. No way! Alright, just go play on the other side of the yard until it's cleaned up. I moved with the computer out to the kitchen because it was about lunch time and kids would be getting hungry. That way, I could stay on Skype and help kids. I was at the table with my back to the door when I heard it open but no slam.

"Who was that?"

*cricket*cricket*

"Who came in the door and left it open?"

Silence. I thought I heard something down the hall so I went to investigate. It was Grant. He was scrabbling at the bathroom doorknob, but hiding his hands from me.

"Grant, what do you need?" I asked.
"Rider pooped Mommy." Grant blurted out.
"I know. Did you get into it?"
"No, RIDER pooped." he said again.
"I know sweetie, HE pooped. Not you. But what's wrong?"
"Well, his poo got on my bike wheel and I tried scraping it off and . . . uh . . . " he trailed off.

He had been trying to scrape the poo off of the wheel. Great. We deep-cleaned those babies, scraping under fingernails and even clipping them. And Grant did not protest. Usually, plipping (clipping) nails is akin to Chinese Water Torture. No screaming this time. He wanted the poo OFF. As did I. Over and over, he kept repeating,

"Rider pooped. Not me."

This kid was in preservation mode. For once, it was not something he had done and he wasn't taking the rap for it. No way, no how!

Meetings

Today was a day of meetings. We were at the school by 9:30 am to meet with the kid's teachers. Turns out, there is another Mairyn in the class. Except she spells it 'Marin'. Go figure! We try to choose unique (but not too wild) names; and this is one of those reasons why. So I asked the teacher if the other little girl could go by her last name's initial. Because, really, these kids are in elementary, Mairyn P. Ha-ha! Mairyn you p! But guess what? That little girl's last name in Peterson. Greeaaat. The teacher suggested they just go by their last names; but c'mon, Mairyn Penrod just is too much on the playground. I think we've settled on going by Mairyn K. Her middle name is Kathleen; Mairyn Kathleen is quite a mouthful all at once, but I sometimes playfully call her Mairyn K. So, that's pretty much settled.

We rushed home to get the upstairs in order for our next meeting. My Visiting Teachers were paying their first visit. Very nice ladies and their combined total of kids came with; 4 1/2 to be exact. The other gal is very pregnant. All under the age of 5. Fortunately, I don't have anything out yet that can be broken or messed up. And if I did, Grant already broke it.

Later in the afternoon, my Hometeachers came. But, I am unique. The bishop thought that I might feel uncomfortable with two men visiting every month or when I needed help, so he assigned me this nice married couple. Hey, I actually have a chance at getting cookies from my VTs & HTs! At each visit, each companionship (of course) asked if there was anything they could do, just call. I told them I'm really in a holding pattern right now. Not much more can be done upstairs until the downstairs is done. It's like one of those 9 square puzzles that you get from a cheap arcade game. You have to rearrange the squares to make the complete picture, with only one extra space. And that's how my house is right now. The computer is displaced to the kitchen because the girls are sleeping in what will become my office, towels are still in boxes because they are being displaced by the girl's clothing which is in the hall closet which will become the linen closet, and so on and so forth.

The last meeting we had today was an old friend to me, but a new experience for the kids. Artichokes. Mairyn picked one up by the stem and asked if we could buy one. Ooo-kay, let's try it. And it was a hit. We actually had a great dinner, but it's not one that can be a regular. Menu: Fresh corn on the cob, watermelon, ripe peaches, & artichoke. And it was fast. I'm going to make it as often as I can before the wonderful summer produce disappears.

Continuing . . . .

The barfing has continued to Grant now. Jacqueline rid herself of it late Thursday, lulled me into a false sense of security so that Grant could take the reins and in the last few minutes of church on Sunday, say he needed to "frow up". I was fortunately right by a bathroom and was able to duck in. That would have been a great first impression and one to last throughout the year.

"Oh, yes, your son threw up all over the hall that first Sunday."

"Lydia-who? Oh, the lady whose son threw up."

Whew, disaster averted. We did have a fun Saturday before this all began again. Climbing trees and just being outside!

Endless Excitement

*Warning: Long post ahead*

With Grant, that is definitely a fact. He provides us with more heart-pounding, nerve wracking action than one could ever imagine.

So we're (we = Spencer & me) sitting peacefully in the living room just after dinner. I walked into the kid's room to see what they were up to. The girls were working on a play they are writing, Jacqueline is thinking she's helping and Grant is, of course, climbing on the windowsill.

"Get down from there, Grant. You're going to fall." I warned for the thousandth time.

He says ok and starts to jump down; only to slip on the blanket cape that is around his neck and fall backwards into the bedside table.

Said window sill and bedside table

"Owie, Mommy. Can I have a hug?"

"Sure, come on over, Grant."

I pull him into a hug and put my hand on the back of his head to see if he's got a goose egg. I'm feeling around a bit, just half-heartedly giving him condolences. (he does this all the time, why should this time be any different?) Then he lifts his head and I look at my hand. It is dripping with blood. Great. He sees the blood and starts freaking out. (and maybe I did, too. a little.) He can handle some hard knocks, but the second he sees the blood, it's all over. He doesn't like that.

I ran him into the bathroom, grabbing a washcloth on the way and lean him over the tub. Yep, a nice gash on the back of his head. And ew, it doesn't look like something I can fix with butterfly strips. I usually resort to the strips if I can. Yeah, usually. That's a skill I never thought I'd learn to perfect. Since Grant became mobile, I don't think my first aid skills have ever gotten rusty.

We found an InstaCare center and walked on in. The ladies just stared at me like, what do you want? I had to start the conversation, as if it wasn't obvious I needed assistance. You know, the bloody washrag on his head wasn't enough. They just shook their heads and said they couldn't treat him here. They "don't do" pediatrics. They said there was a night pediatric treatment place down the road a ways. Could you put that in writing for me? I'm a little busy here with my bleeding son. I stomped out of there and started punching coordinates into Gina (our GPS) There was a different Urgent Care center just .4 miles down the road. I had Spencer run in first to see if they would treat him. They did and we went in.

We were helped right away due to the bleeding status. The nurse (male, I might add) took his vitals and started setting up a stitches kit. He left and said the Dr. would be in to assess him. Let me tell you, this Dr. had all the bedside manner of a codfish. And Nurse Wimpy was no help either. Dr. Codfish said Grant would have to lay down on his stomach, Nurse Wimpy obliged, laid him down and turned Grant's head toward the Dr. with the cut facing the pillow. The cut was on the back of his head and to the right. Hey genius, the cut is facing the PILLOW! I moved him to the foot of the bed with his left cheek on the pillow and they both go, "Oh, that's a good idea!" You think? Dr. C tells us to hold on tight and starts injecting the numbing meds into the wound. Of course Grant does not like that and starts thrashing. I was holding down legs and buttocks, Spence was in charge of torso and arms, Nurse Wimpy earned his moniker by allowing the head to jerk wildly back and forth. Dr. C warns us that he can't do that while the needle is in and I just take Grant's head and neck and suggest that Nurse Wimpy take the lower limbs. Geez.

Dr. Codfish finishes injecting and then immediately starts in with the needle. Grant starts screaming and he just acts put off saying that it shouldn't hurt. "Um, shouldn't you check it to see if it's numb?" I ask. He assures me it is and ties off the first stitch. He re-threads and starts in on the second; not as much pain-related screaming, just the "hey-I-don't-like-this-get-me-out-of-here" kind. Then Dr. C says all done and starts cleaning up. Hey, waaaiiit a minute, only two? This is a good inch long, and there's still a gaping end to wrap up. He assures me that that's enough, kids heal fast, etc. I am not pleased. I urge him again that Grant is an active boy, keeping bandages on isn't easy, etc. But he doesn't seem concerned and wanders out saying he'll get me a list of symptoms to pay attention to and to take him to an emergency room if any of them arise. And he said exactly that. Nurse Wimpy takes some gauze and wraps it limply around Grant's head, turban style, reassuring me that the stitches will hold, he'll be fine, blah-de-blah blah. Five minutes later, Dr. Codfish comes in, hands me a stack of opened and formerly sterile pads, partially stained with betadine, and the info papers, saying that the symptoms are on there and to hand the discharge paper to the nurse on your way out. Really? Yes, really, that is all he told me. I'm not paraphrasing. Fortunately, I'm no slouch when it comes to First Aid (not to toot my own horn, but *toot*) and I am not worried.

We stopped at the first Walgreens Gina found and I purchased all necessary bandaging supplies, butterfly strips, and good boy prizes. By the time we reached home, the gauze was hanging down over Grant's eyes. I trimmed the hair around the stitches (nope, they didn't do that either) applied a butterfly, re-wrapped his head and gave him a dose of Tylenol. My momma didn't raise no dummy. She's an R.N. And a piano mover, so. (no, not really a piano mover. ;) He is back to his bouncy self and we go back in a week to get the stitches out.

I know this is a somber picture, but he just looks so cute.

** I was just labeling this post and realized that all the "injuries" labels refer to Grant. Yeah, they'll be naming hospital wings after this kid. **

A Happy Boy

Grant has discovered his Nirvana. Legos. You know what he's been doing alldayeveryday? Legos. What does he talk about nonstop? Legos. What are we getting him for his birthday? You guessed it. Legos.

Grant's last day of school

Wednesday, April 1st was Grant's last day of preschool. This was the last day of Winter term and the new term began the 2nd. So, that's that. Another step toward leaving Egypt.

Grant & his teacher, Ms. Delia

Mr. John, the gatekeeper. He does a great job! Always has a nice "Good Morning, Grant!" for us!

And about an hour after we got home. He was worn out.

A confession . . .

I am in love. I never fell out of it, I'm just deep in it right now. The saying goes that mothers are biased, that may be true. I'm not trying to brag about my kids, I just want to proclaim a few facts! I am so in love with being a Mom right now. I could just eat them. (Yes, all mothers are cannibals.) Mairyn is such a riot. The other day she said,

"Mommy, if we're driving you crazy, what kind of car do you have? Sophie D.'s mom has a Paseo. It says so on the side."

Grant is starting to read. Eliza is just so . . . Eliza, articulate and patient. And Jacqueline is pulling out new vocabulary left and right. She'll insert new words like "now" at the beginning of a sentence like, "Now the water is cold!" When did my pipsqueak learn that? This is quite a comfort to me at this time. I am up to my eyeballs in moving minutia and packing peripherals (hello, alliterate much?). We are down to t-minus 13 days and I am pretty much annoyed and harried every moment. So when my children choose to shine and bring me a little bit of happiness, it gives me the perspective I need to continue on. And to remind me why I do it all.

Random Thought, Pet Peeves etc.

I couldn't actually come up with enough fully formed ideas to make one complete blog post. Since I'm drowning in projects and annoyed up to my eyeballs, I'll group them all together in one place.

--> I'm turning against my own kind. Although I'd rather not be counted among other MMB's (mormon mommy bloggers) some think that I should just "Semper Fi" . I can't stand the stupid pseudonyms ('Mr. Choopy-woopy & I watched offspring #7 feed #3 a pop tart. Yummers.' Gag me. What are they, the Borg?) acronyms (although, can't blame 'em for that. it's programmed in every LDS's DNA) bad grammar & spelling, over-sized fonts and brightly colored texts make me want to vomit. I'm no nit-picker and I'm not out looking for a fight, I'm just annoyed. I will use the occasional slang word or abbreviation, but come on people, make some coherent conversation. These are smart, intelligent (I think) women that can do better than pander to a stereotype. Yes, I do read NieNie. That's different. We both have some common grounds (barely out of our 20's, 4 children, religion) and, you know, I just feel for her. I'm usually able to overlook most of my pet peeves. 'Nuff said.

--> Grant's new favorite expression. ". . . put off my shoes." Well, you put on your shoes, the logical response would be to "put off my shoes." "Mommy, I need help to put off my shoes." I've made it over the initial lost-in-translation barrier and it makes sense now.

-->Turn right to go left. This is rule number one for driving in Egypt. If there is a left hand turning coming up, go around all the people to the right and cut right in where it convenient for you. I think watching the movie, "Cars" is a prerequisite to receiving your driver's license in Egypt. Following Doc Hudson's advice of turn right to go left!

Going Crackers!!

So the two youngest have renewed affection for graham crackers and chocolate milk. You're thinking, what kids wouldn't like that combination? My kids, that's who. Grant has had a couple of food funks this year. When we got back in August, they were all hooked on kiwis. (No, they don't eat natives of New Zealand.) They were really cheap at Costco this last summer, so that was a staple. I got them a few times here in Egypt, not very cheap. The tide shifted to bagels with cream cheese and a sippy cup of white grape juice. Every. day.

"Grant, snack time. What would you like?"

"Bagull wit cweem teese." (no, it's not welsh, it's bagel with cream cheese.)

And that's basically the only thing he would eat. Jacqueline liked it too, but she'll eat anything. Really. This girl has a sweet tooth the size of Africa but it's balanced by her love of 'cumbers. A whole bowl can be polished off in no time. Jacqueline is the only well rounded child in that aspect. Then, without warning, he rediscovered Goldfish. That's all he wanted. The choice in drink didn't change, though. White grape juice, through and through.

I would try to offer other choices. Chocolate milk, plain milk, apple juice, purple grape juice, cran-raspberry. Nothing was good enough. I began asking myself why I even bought 2% milk. Then, I got lucky. That's the only explanation. I got sick of buying that big box of Goldfish every week and a half. I grabbed a box of graham crackers. Snack time came around and I offered up the new foodstuffs. And it's good!! Graham crackers and chocolate milk! I just about fell over from the shock. These are the kids that would turn their nose up at chocolate milk. Graham crackers? Yuck, get them away from me. You'd think I was trying to poison them, the way they reacted. But now, they can't get enough! And everyone is happy.

Two weeks later . . .

**Warning: Grant's Fingers Ahead**

Now, I'm not grossed out by his healing fingers. Some may not share the same opinion. The only time his injuries made my stomach churn was when it first happened. Spencer came running to me with Grant in his arms, holding out his smoking fingers. There was black, gooey plastic melted all over his fingers and in his wounds, and yeah, I just about lost it. That's when we knew it was time to call the doctor. It's surprising, I'm not that squeamish anymore. I remember when my sisters would throw up and I'd feel like heaving, too. I'd wonder, "How does my Mom do it? I couldn't scoop up barf and NOT lose my own cookies!" And needles, ugh, I could hardly look at one when someone else is getting poked. So naturally, when I'm pregnant, I need lots of shots. Rhogam, etc. Now, I just roll up the sleeve (or pull down the waistband) and take it! Bloodshed? I'm fine. Grant's bitten through his lip again? Wipe it up and give him a popsicle. My kids have done it all: stitches, casts, IVs, burns and bumps. I don't know if I've reached the point where I can give a shot to one of my kids, but I can at least look at the needle or blood and not feel faint.

This was supposed to be a complete collage. It is not. See the little blue, blank space in the corner? That's where the "healed" picture was supposed to go. I haven't been able to pin Grant down and get a non-blurry one yet. And if I don't post this, I never will. But, he has healed up nicely. He's got a wicked cool scar on his left index finger. It wraps around from top pad of his fingerprint down to around the front of his second knuckle. It looks very Frankenstein-ish. The left thumb and right index finger & thumb have these little windy valleys on his fingerprints. And really, I don't think these scars will last past his teens. I got burned once on the underside of my arm when I was 7 or so. It was big, blistery, yuck. I had a scar about the size of a silver dollar. It turned silvery and when I'd get cold or in the pool, it would turn purple. Vividly so. Then, late teens came I noticed that it had gone away. Poof! So, we'll see what's left in 10 years. I did read somewhere that women are more attracted to men with scars. Rrrar.