Oh Boy!

Well we had a very eventful day yesterday. Jerry has been congested all week and yesterday he just  seemed to be getting worse. I took him home from school early and he rested at home, but by dinner time his breathing was very labored, chest was heavy and tight, he told me it was scaring him because it hurt to breathe. So, we loaded in the van and headed to Care Now. However, on the way, Jerry said he felt like he was going to throw up. We were stuck at a red-light with cars on both sides, no where to go. I pleaded with the light to turn, for I was 5 feet from a turn off. Too late. Only word can describe what happened next. Projectile. It was awful. When he finished throwing up all over the back of the seat and himself, the light turned green. {Awesome.} So, we pulled over, I got him cleaned up as best as I could while gagging in the process. After we get back in the car, I try to keep it together but I just say "I'm going to cry now." And so I did. But I regained my composure quickly. We finally get to Care Now, smelling of putrid stomach acids. I shiver just thinking about it. They get us back quickly due to his symptoms and first thing they say is his oxygen is low, you need to take him to the ER. So, we head to the ER. So not only am I freaking out over his breathing, but I can't clean the van and it stinks so bad, I feel like it is sticking to me.

We get to the ER, they check him in and have us back in a room within 5 minutes. I feel the need to explain to everyone we come in contact with that he has puke all over him and that's why he stinks. :/ His oxygen is low, but not dangerously low. The seem more concerned with the mucus gathered in his lungs, causing the tightness and "squeak." The x-rays came back as ok, no pneumonia. After several breathing treatments back to back, Jerry started to get a little loopy and hyper. The albuterol started making him queasy and shaky. He ended up throwing up again. They still needed his oxygen level to go up and his breathing to be more stable before we could be released. So, after a loooong while, we were sent home with steroids, antibiotics, and treatments every four hours. It is believed that he may be developing asthma, which is conclusive to all his symptoms of respiratory distress and bronchospasms.

He is still very wheezy and coughing today, so prayers are appreciated!

Ding Dong, Tick tock

After I put the kids to bed last night, JT was just coming in the door and went back there to say good night to the kids. As he said good night, Sophia starts bobbing her head back and forth frantically, saying "Ding dong, tick tock, ding dong, tick tock, ding dong, tick tock" JT tells her to stop and go to bed. In response, she just stares at him and says "Ding dong, tick tock." JT, again, more seriously tells her to stop and go to sleep. She, more quietly, almost desperately looking at him with pleading eyes, lightly bobs her head back and forth and quietly says, "Ding dong, tick, tock." JT says Sophia what are you doing, go to sleep. She defeatedly responds, "Just laugh and I'll stop." He replies dryly, "Ha, Ha." She happily responds, "Thank you, good night!"

Typhoid, Lincoln, and Pirates

You're probably wondering what Typhoid, Lincoln, and Pirates have in common?

Have I ever mentioned I absolutely LOVE the things that come out my children's mouth?! It can be absolutely embarrassing at times, but it makes for a great story.

Gia was sick a week or so ago and had to get medicine. She came home and this was our conversation:

Gia: Mommy, how do you say T-Y-P-H-O-I-D?
Me: Typhoid.
Gia: Yeah, typhoid, I believe this is what I just had.
Me: *Starts chuckling* Typhoid fever?! Gia, you didn't have typhoid.
Gia: No, mommy, I'm pretty sure that's what I had.
Me: Are you learning about Typhoid in health class?
Gia: Mommy, *as she touches her head* I had fever, *rubs her stomach* my stomach hurt, *lightly touches throat* my throat hurt. I had Typhoid.
Me: *Laughing by now* Well, I'm glad you made it through the Typhoid epidemic in just 2 days.
Gia: *Not amused*
Me: Baby, I assure you, you did not have Typhoid, you had tonsillitis. I have the paper from the doctor.
Gia: I didn't?
Me: No.
Gia: Well, it was like it.
Me: .....

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This was a question on Gia's test and her answer:

What was President Lincoln doing when he was shot? "Dying"


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We had to run to Walmart real quick one night. As we walk in, Sophia obviously spots a man before I do and with wonder in her eyes, she asks, rather loudly, "Mommy! Is he a pirate!?" I turn to see who she is talking about and spot an old, burly, gray-haired man with a black patch over one eye. Just as I catch a glimpse of him, he turns and for a moment we meet eyes. I quickly look away and walk in the other direction. "Sophia, no, that is rude, don't say that." She responds, "But he has a patch on." I am trying, at this point, not to crack up, because she was so serious. "No, Sophia, he just doesn't have an eye. He's not a pirate." She then mumbles under her breath, barely able to hear. "Well, he has a patch on." She wanted so bad for him to be a pirate, so we let it go and allowed her mind to take her wherever she wanted to go.