A blogging believer

I came home from our two weeks in Utah feeling more inspired to blog. Seems like everywhere I went, everyone I saw was up to date on our family...thanks to the blog. And since it is keeping us in better touch with people than I even thought, I'm going to be a better blogger and post more often. Starting now.

First a story.

The scene:
Putting my children to bed at grandma's house
The background:
I had just finished telling my kids a bedtime story and was still lounging on the bed
The conversation:
Windsyr: Mom, are you going to fall asleep in our bed?
Me: No, I'm just resting for a minute.
Windsyr: Good. Because then you'd just be a big lump in the bed that steals covers.

Now some pictures.

TIMPANOGOS CAVE
On the trail up. Very scenic and more of a workout than I bargained for...I forgot how steep that trail is, and only 2 weeks post surgery. Duh!
Exploring through the caveWindsyr got to hold the flashlight for the guide to point out a ladder. She took full credit after the fact telling us: "I saw the ladder and told the guide about it, so she told everyone else about it." Alarmingly, that is how my daughter's mind works.

FOURTH of JULY
You gotta get up pretty early in the morning to see the balloons launch. In fact, 5am didn't quite cut it for us because we missed our favorite part which is watching the balloons be filled.
My Engine and my Caboose. Aren't they cute?
Cairo liked the hot air balloons, of course. He likes any kind of balloon, really, and all balloons to him mean happy birthday.
Special shout out to grandma Kippy who staked out at 3am to get us prime seating at the parade.

This is the center divider on Center street (just before the roundabout. ) The kids watched the parade coming toward them head on, then it would divide and go to either their right or left to get to the roundabout. Quite the way to watch a parade!
Nice group shot...and notice the Red, White, and GREEN! My husband adds some Italian flare to the traditional 4th of July color scheme.
The grandmas took the girls to Stadium of Fire, which for many young girls in the audience translated into one thing: Miley Cyrus. The Blue Man group performed too which I have heard was fantastic. And of course the fireworks are unsurpassed. Go Utah!
Our version of Iwo Jima

SUNDANCE
Bri took the kids up this very familiar lift. It's the first time they've seen it without snow on the ground and skis on their feet.

CASCADE SPRINGS
Uncle Myron took us hiking through here. It was beautiful.
What we didn't know is that poor Cairo was getting sick. We thought it was unusual that he wanted to be held instead of running on his own, but by that night he had a fever of 102.6--which explained why the little trooper wasn't himself.
Me and my petite bundle.

Cousin sleepover+late night+early morning+hiking= THIS!
"THE COUNTRY"
...As we like to call our little trips out to Tami's place. She lives in a small town where getting around is as simple as throwing all four kids on the mommy quad. Ahhh, the simple life!


AMERICAN IDOL CONCERT
We are big enough fans that we stayed a whole extra week in order to attend. Funny us. But we loved it, so stay tuned for footage. (I'm going to make a separate post for the concert, or I will never finish the current one...)


Of course we don't have pictures of all the great times on our trip. Visiting friends and family made the trip especially worth it...so thanks to everyone who made time for us and to Grandma and Papa Maughan for putting us up, and putting up with us. We'll be back.

The haps around here

Happy two months, Cayman!!

The haps around here lately are as follows.

1. I love summer vacation
2. I miss my two oldest children who went on a road trip with Grandma and Papa
3. I do not miss Brian's crutches and neither does he. (Still in a cast but can walk
on it now.)
4. I have not decided whether or not I miss my gallbladder, which was taken out a week ago following a trip to the ER with chest pain. That's four surgeries in seven weeks for this family, but who's counting?
5. My baby is two months old today!! And in case anyone doubted my childrens' ability to double their birth weight in two months, see the following pictures.


Remember Jake, the measuring stick?
Either Jake shrunk or Cayman has supersized.
You be the judge.











Here he is in all his tough cuteness.
Here we are--all of us. Finally posed for our first family picture.
And then we cut off Windsyr's hair and buzzed Staten's. It's kind of a summer tradition.


Here is Brian in his walking cast,

And me back in the hospital?












And our sweetie in the hospital
for tubes in her ears.



Now we hope we are done with the drama for a while.






I'll end on a positive note. I got the perfect chicken sandwich from McDonalds recently. I'm not kidding. Look at this bun...could you photo shop a more perfect bun than this? I don't think so.

Superman down

My dear husband recently broke.

This is very uncommon for the man I have come to suspect as Clark Kent-like, living the facade of human limitation, while in reality possessing a full spectrum of superpowers. Turns out that after the manner of a certain Greek hero, my husband's Kryptonite is that tedious little Achilles tendon...which snapped, tore, ruptured, or otherwise _______(insert favorite disconnecting verb here) while playing softball.

It could have been his second home run of the game had the tendon sniper not gunned him down between first and second base. To the untrained ball watching eye (mine) it looked like he had just slipped in the dirt. So it took a minute to register why he didn't bounce right back up and instead just laid there, barely moving, as fellow teammates (and a worried wife) hurried to investigate.

The events that followed went something like this: Pain. Shock. ER. Cast. Crutches. Pain. Medication. Surgery. New cast. Pain. More medication. Down for the count. Foot elevated. Restless. Frustrated. Two weeks out of work. Stir crazy. Hopping. Hobbling. Driving left footed. Slowly working back into life, but still on crutches for three more weeks, and after that a walking cast for I don't know how long. Physical therapy starts at 3 months, and total recovery time can be anywhere from 9 to 12 months. Ouch.

Today was his first day back at work and he would have even made it the whole day had the brakes not gone out in my car, causing him to have to leave work early to rescue me. So even in his compromised state he is still my Superhero--and now I will treat you to some rarely seen footage of Superman down.

This injury is actually from the home run he made before the REAL injury. It is more of a glory wound from a glory slide into home. But it didn't help to have this injury on his only "good" leg.

Here he is after successful reconnection of the tendon. Yes, folks, the leg bone IS connected to the foot bone. But Brian was still a bit out of it at this stage. He came out of the general anesthesia thinking and speaking in French, which is odd for someone who doesn't KNOW French.

This couch is pretty much where Brian has lived, breathed, ate and slept during the down time. He feels pretty useless in his condition, but we have LOVED having him home around the clock, and we will all miss him as he resumes "normal" life.

Welcome to our Infirmary. While Brian was in recuperation here, Windsyr burned her finger on the stove and joined in the fun of ice packs and pain. Cairo is not injured, but is a sort of hospital squatter, enjoying the Epsom salt foot bath that Brian had used to bring down the swelling.

Talking to Birds

Good morning. 11:46 a.m. may not exactly qualify as morning, but on my new nocturnal schedule, it feels like it. Early this morning (9-ish), I woke from a deep sleep to a knock at the door. "Come in," I called, trying to sound awake. The knocking got louder and quicker, so again I called "come in", only this time with more lung behind it. Not even a pause in the knocking which was now so loud and rhythmic I was wide awake, wondering why the person on the other side of the door wasn't responding. One more try from me: "COME IN," I nearly shouted, thinking if the person didn't hear that, at least my neighbors did. And that's when it finally occurred to me that the knocking wasn't coming from the door at all, but from the area near the window....where a woodpecker was relentlessly pecking at the side of the house. Talking to woodpeckers. Ahhh, the sleep deprived state of a new mom.

So if my blogging seems to be lacking, I thank you for understanding. In fact, I have been working on this post for several days now, but as it only happens in bits and pieces, the new baby could be potty trained before I finish. Let me rewind a little and tell things in order.



Here I am ready to pop already, still with several weeks to go. Cairo got accustomed to his belly "seat" and I carried him around on it like it was his throne. Seems with a fourth pregnancy, the sky is the limit with belly expansion.


This is a surprised face at my surprise baby shower. I wish I had the footage from when I first walked in the door as I'm sure my mouth was opened even wider. I resisted having a shower for this baby, due to the fact that my friends have already done way beyond their share in helping this baby get here. The last thing I thought they should do after all the meals and childcare, etc. was shower me with gifts. But I am surrounded by friends who don't take no for an answer. So they went ahead and planned a shower, and threw it anyway. With the help of my husband and mother-in-law as accomplices, they lured me out of my house and into a celebration that confirmed once again the amazing nature of my friends.


Here we are on the way to the hospital. I went into labor at 4 am on April 23rd--three days before my scheduled c-section. The same thing had happened with Cairo, so it wasn't terribly surprising. It was tricky timing, though, since Brian was dressed and headed out the door at 5am that morning on his way out of town for job related meetings. He had simply come upstairs to say goodbye and was very surprised to find me awake and out of bed, sitting uncomfortably in a chair. I hesitated even telling him about the labor pains because I had experienced an entire night of false labor only a few days prior which amounted to nothing. I didn't want him to miss his meetings if this wasn't going to be the real thing. We spent an hour trying to decide if it was legit, but the deal was sealed with my water breaking at 6am. Yes, the baby would be coming that day, and Brian's trip had been intercepted in a big way. Within hours we were at the hospital, prepped and ready for surgery.


And since the best laid plans tend to fail, the doctor we had so carefully chosen to perform this fourth C-section was not available for our delivery . So the on call doctor, who we had never even met, delivered our baby. It was kind of cool that she was a woman, as was my anesthesiologist. I liked being surrounded by a team of women, with only one male assisting in the operating room. Oh yes, and my handsome Elvis. (See below.)


Elvis is in the building.


First look at the little man. Of course he didn't have a name at this point...but four days later he was Cayman Nilsson Maughan. He was born at 11:50 am, weighing in at 8lbs, 11oz (not as big as we expected, but pretty sizeable considering he was born nine days before his due date.) He was 20 inches and came out with the hiccups.


Staten with his new brother.


Windsyr with her new baby...I mean brother. She might as well be the mommy for how much she loves to hold and care for him.



Cairo--no longer the baby of the family. We thought he would be traumatized and feel dethroned, but really he is quite enjoying big brother status.



Cayman coming home from the hospital--first picture as a family of SIX.



The famous Natalie and Nori sign.



The kids worked hard to make sure Cayman was welcomed home in style.



Proud grandparents!


And here is a picture of Cayman with Jake. Jake who was Alice until Windsyr decided we should raise boys together. A simple outfit change and wah-lah. Jake. Anyway, we took this picture so that months from now (even just weeks) we can look back and remember that yes, our baby really did start out small. It won't last long, but those first precious weeks are so tiny, new and miraculous that I always want to remember them.

Cayman is now almost three weeks old. And because it has taken me a whole week to finish this post, I'm happy to report he is awake a lot more during the day now, and not nearly so nocturnal as when I started the post. Ironically, the woodpecker came pecking again this morning, but I am proud to report I never once said: "Come in," which I take as a good sign of progress.

Hold Me

So I'm in that final sprint of pregnancy--the part where your body is so imbalanced there is simply no way to feel comfortable. Can't walk without a waddle, can't sleep without every pillow positioned just right, can't bend, lift, hold, carry, or bring grace to any position. Even breathing is somewhat compromised with what I'm told is a nine to ten pound tenant taking up more than his share of space. 21 days. Only 21 days. I can do this.

But of course, just cause mama's bursting at the seams and exhausted five minutes into the day doesn't mean life slows down, and this week brought with it a virus that one by one has attacked the whole family. Two days ago I was at the doctor for my daughter's double ear infection while my husband was home sick with the worst of it. My two year old was running wild as I was at the pharmacy counter trying to pay for the prescription, and in an effort to settle him down, I asked:
"Do you want me to hold you?"

I had barely even noticed an older man standing beside me when he responded without missing a beat:
"Well, that'd be nice, but I don't even know you."

I looked over at him in surprise, and as his joke registered, I burst into laughter. He apologized for his "bad joke." But I insisted "It wasn't a bad joke, it was hilarious!" And I meant it. Because in two seconds flat, he had de-stressed the dynamic of the situation, and put perspective back into my day. Here I was so tightly wound in my haggard state of hugeness and sleeplessness, trying to care for a sick little family while at the same time ready to pop with yet another dependent, and feeling the weight of it all----and all it took was one small sentence from one witty stranger to lift my day, my spirits, and enable me to endure those last five minutes at the pharmacy, which was perhaps the greatest gift of all.

Clearly your record shows...

I have been to Wimbledon, and enjoyed not only the games being played, but the amusing back and forth of the heads in the crowd focused on the little yellow ball being lobbed from one side of the court to the other and back again. But until now, I have never felt so much like that little yellow ball being sent in one direction, then another, then another. It must be mind numbing for that fuzzy little thing. It is for me.

When I went in for my 20 week ultrasound in December, I was diagnosed with complete Placenta Previa, which means my placenta was covering my cervix. Wrong place for it. Though this condition typically corrects itself as a uterus stretches, my doctor wasn't hopeful that it would in my case, as there is scar tissue from three previous c-sections that was likely to enmesh with the placenta and keep it from migrating upward. I met with one RN and two different doctors over the next few weeks, all of which confirmed the previa, and gave strict orders of caution: No travel, no exercise, no lifting, and no...relations...with my husband. This was to prevent undue strain that could cause the placenta to bleed--which is bad--as it can't always be stopped and worst case scenario could lead to hospitalization, early delivery, the need for blood transfusions, risk to the mother and baby, and the occasional emergency hysterectomy. So I was cautious. And I worried every single time I lifted my nearly forty pound two year old, knowing that I was exceeding the 20 pound limit, but not knowing how to get around it.

Two months later, at 29 weeks, , I went in for a follow up ultrasound to see if the placenta had migrated. This was an interesting appointment as I was told some very unusual and unexpected news by the ultrasound technician: "According to our records here in the radiology department, you NEVER HAD placenta previa." She found it implausible that I had been told I had placenta previa, and couldn't account for the misinformation. She said: "Clearly your record shows a normal placenta, so I have no idea where that information came from."

So I spent the next two weeks wondering how the misinformation had been conveyed and whose records the doctor might have looked at to think I had placenta previa. I was happy and grateful to know it was not a concern after all, but somewhat frustrated to be at the mercy of medical misinformation (although I do realize if there is going to be medical malpractice, it's much better to have them err in your favor.)

Yesterday would have been my next doctor's appointment, but I was too sick with some nasty cold/sore throat thing to get out the door, so I called in to the nurse to discuss the things we would have covered at the appointment--one of them being the previa, or lack thereof.

She said it looked like all was well and that the placenta had migrated upward. At the word "migrated" I knew the OBGYN dept had not been in communication with the radiology department. I told her what I had been told at my follow up ultrasound, and it was all news to her. She apologized on behalf of the radiology department and told me she had no idea how they got that information. "Clearly your record shows complete placenta previa as of December 18th."

So here I am, the fuzzy yellow ball, now lobbed back to the original court and not knowing who has it straight since clearly my record CAN'T show two totally opposing things. I asked the nurse to ask the doctor to contact the radiology department and figure out whose record is right. The placenta previa is cleared in either case, but it is important to me to know what my record really shows, because it is about me and my health, and I don't like being at the mercy of incompetent racquets, if you know what I mean. So while they duke out the clarity of my record, my placenta and I are going to rest. We are dizzy and confused.

The artist calls it how she sees it

While I am VERY flattered by my husband's sweet Valentine's slide show, here is something I am not so flattered by. My five year old daughter presented me with this picture today. She said: "Hey mom, I drew a picture of what you look like when you get out of bed in the morning. Want to see it?" For the first time in her drawing history, I knew I did NOT want to see my daughter's drawing. But of course she showed me, and now I am showing you. There is no rebuttal to the plain hard truth. The artist calls it how she sees it.

Be Mine

I know I don't always comment and I have not always been as into this blog thing as you, but I thought of all days this might be the day to share a few thoughts. Enjoy.



Love,
B

I love cameras

This is not a one time thing. This is how my child sleeps. For months our son has been pulling the blanket over his face to sleep and what cracks us up is the consistency of it. I often go in to check on him sleeping just to see if he's done it again, and he always has. Whatever it takes, I guess.

80's day at the kids' school. The kids thought it was great, but the real fun was had by the parents who planned their outfits...true children of the 80's!


Cairo's hair got a little long and I had a little too much fun with it. It is cut now, for anyone who worries that I am demoralizing my children. (He liked it, by the way--only resisting the rubber bands until I showed him what I was doing in the mirror. Suddenly he became very patient with me and was fascinated and pleased with his new do.)


Here is the evidence of the mouse who has apparently been sneaking around our garage stealing old Halloween candy. He must surely be fat and happy after all this!


Staten and three little buddies are in a golf class together. Something about this picture just cracks me up. You could flash forward several decades to this scene and it wouldn't look much different, I think. Just taller boys (men) and longer golf clubs.


We've seen several rainbows in the past while. This one was a double although its hard to tell in the picture. We like to drive around in the car hunting for the end of the rainbow in search of that allusive pot of gold. Our consolation for not finding the gold is the newly instituted "rainbow celebration" which we now get to have in our family upon spotting a rainbow. (My husband will attest to the fact I'll use ANY excuse to celebrate and I am good at coming up with reasons.)