Sorry Holland...I'm out!

If you're unfamiliar with Welcome to Holland by Emily Perl Kingsley, please feel free to read up as a preface to this entry by visiting here (I'm really not IN Holland lol):
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Welcome_to_Holland

You can't tell me that I will never get to Italy. Nope. No way, no how. I paid for that damn vacation, I painstakingly planned it, I WANTED it.

I.still.want.it.

No matter how beautiful Holland has started to become, we are jumping ship to Italy. If I have to swim, float, build some damn wings out of tree leaves and branches...we are going to Italy. All the pot in Amsterdam can't keep me wanting to stay in Holland. So sorry, I got my passport and I'll float out of this em-effer on logs if I have to. Your airport might be closed but YOU.CAN'T.STOP.ME. Nope, nope, nope. So dag, I'm off to ride gondolas in Venice, recite Shakespeare in Verona and eat gelato all day long. What are you planning to do about it?? You told me I can't and now I'm just going to have to prove you wrong.

I'm tired of being pointed in the direction of "Welcome to Holland" when I'm having a shitty day. Some of my days are shitty, get over it...doesn't mean automatic banishment to Holland. Some days are great, I can scream from the rooftops about how great my life is. Let's face it though, the smallest of disruptions can change that. Life with special needs, medical needs, any needs that aren't the norm doesn't mean I'll be stuck in Holland forever. Fuck a Holland...we might be VISITING Holland but I damn sure aren't living there. Italy might seem different from the vacation I originally planned, but I'm still in Italy. My baby is still perfect and he's JUST what I wanted. He's perfect in his own way and that means he's perfect period. He might eat differently, develop differently, do a lot differently...but what child doesn't?? So we might be doing things ass backwards here in Italy, but we are STILL IN Italy. If it makes you uncomfortable, Holland is booking one way tickets...go enjoy those windmills and wooden shoes because we're glamming it up in Paris whether you like it or not.

Courage...

Courage doesn't always roar. Sometimes courage is the quiet voice at the end of the day saying, "I will try again tomorrow." ~Mary Anne Radmacher

I always hear the word "courage." Sometimes I hear "courageous." Sometimes it's used to describe me, sometimes it's used to describe Karson. One thing I can tell you: that kid is courageous. His courage is ALWAYS roaring. Never is his courage quiet and everyday his courage kicks cowardice and conformity's ass and says I AM KING.

Let's bust our eye open while maguiver-ing off Thomas the Train, just because...and then laughing while jumping back on while mom blogs the story. Courage. Running out in the rain barefoot. Courage. Especially when last spring was spent, well for the most part, in the hospital.

Karson, you are MY courage. My courage to wake up and slip on those BGP (Big Girl Panties for those of you not in the know) and face another day of unknown. My fortitude to stare uncertainty in the face and laugh because guess what?? It's a beautiful morning. And guess what? I get to see perfection at it's greatest. And that my friend, gives me courage.

You...

Are my courage. My hope. My faith. My heart. My love. My hero.

And you...

Are my life. My world. My everything.

What can I say? I am a proud Momma.

Welcome to my normal...

I hate leaving the house. I hate going grocery shopping. I hate the mall. I hate it with.a.passion. I see you normal people, with your normal families, with your normal lives. It all reminds me of how different he is. He's so different that his body takes so much more calories than yours does. He's so different that at 21 months he still fits into a 0-3 month shirt. He's so different that doctors and therapists are his friends...he has no "real" friends his age. His play mates are his brothers, for fear of being around "normal" will bring "normal" germs around, normal germs that would "normally" not do much but cause a runny nose for a "normal" kid. But he's not "normal". Instead he eats differently, speaks differently, acts differently, plays differently. But he loves the same.

I hate his life. I hate it for him. I hate him being labeled as "medically fragile" or "failure to thrive." He hasn't failed anyone...he's succeeded beyond belief. A preemie, with Chronic Lung Disease, caught Pertussis and survived. A soldier indeed. He didn't fail, instead he beat all odds. I love his life. He has brothers that dote on him, love him, teach him, adore him. He has every toy made in the world. Caring doctors. Loving parents. A beautiful home. Safety. He has life. Why such an oxymoron?? Can't he have it all?

It's days like that that I hold in my tears all day long until the last of the boys gets to bed. I can barely make it to 9:00 pm without breaking down, but I have to hold it in. Just until they all fall asleep. Then to the safety of my blog. I can admit that I hate my sons life. If I could switch places with him, I would. If I could send this disease to anyone but my own son...I would. No one would be safe. Not family, not friends. No one. Is this my breakdown? Is this where I cry out to God and ask Him to carry me because I have been beaten beyond the point that I can handle?? All the fighting in the world has me drained...what else do I give when I can't find the strength to get myself up in the morning. But I have to. I have to for him. Where do I find the strength to give my child drugs that could cause so much harm, yet possibly do so much? Where do I find the strength to see my child in pain, but know that beyond this pain may be solace...if they can figure it out??

So I confess. I hate normal. I hate not being able to be normal. All you doctors...I HATE YOU. I hate you hospital. I hate you specialists. I hate you medicines. I hate you feeding pump. I HATE YOU G TUBE. I hate you all. Yet, I love you. I love you because you give my child life. Without you, he wouldn't be here.

This is not my life....

This is not my life. No, this isn't. I have four boys, my life is supposed to be filled with boogers, basketball, video games and strange cartoons (I swear the creators of Adventure Time are totally sniffing something). Instead I have a life filled with hospitals, doctors appointments and specialists. This week didn't disappoint.

Kris is a very sick boy. On Friday he had a cough, it sucked but he was fine other than that. He's always.sick. Always. I told him that if he felt bad on Saturday we'd go to his doctor. Saturday morning he said he was fine, but around noon (of course when the doctors office is closing) he said he thought he needed to go. But...later that night he was fine again. Sunday I decided I wasn't going to give him a choice about going to the doctor, I'd just take him into the Urgent Care Clinic for kids. Sunday came and went, we had breakfast, ran to Costco and Target...all the while he was fine, except for that cough. We got into the clinic, got seen. Pneumonia in the left lung, asthma in the right. Shock! He went home with an inhaler and antibiotics. Later that night he started coughing up blood. Blood!! That was the single most scary thing.ever. So I called his doctor. And we made a morning appointment.

By morning, his inhaler wasn't doing anything at all for him. He was puking every two minutes and was scaring me half to death. That's Karsons job...not his :o( We went to the doctor and he had oxygen saturation around 90-91! What.the.heck. His doctor took a listen to him and declared him one very, very, very sick boy. She said she'd do a double nebulizer treatment, a dose of steroids and if he wasn't satting better than that he was going by ambulance to the hospital for a nice long stay. The treatment went well...he was back around 96 after that. He is on nebulizer treatments every three hours and another appointment in the morning and a chest xray. She then asked about his nose. What about his nose?? Apparently he has quite a bit of damage in the left nostril. We never knew. So he's earned a specialist, too. Referral to an ENT.

Does this ever end? This week alone I had an Urgent Care trip on Sunday, Kris' follow up on Monday, Mini's speech in the afternoon, Wednesday we have a GI appointment, Thursday a follow up xray for Kris and who knows what Friday will bring.

It's been so long...nice to see you again!!

Yeah, I have been slacking. Thanksgiving, Christmas AND New Years all passed without a single blog from me. I'm back now, for a little while at least. So here's the run down before I go back and start post dating all my posts:

November ~ We had a white (very white) and windy Thanksgiving.
December ~ Santa came to town and brought the spoils.
January ~ Has only just begun.

Be back soon...my little pocket sidekick woke up and can't sleep without me. Off to beddy bye...

Enjoy the view...

This is my home...this is my block...this is my street. I really am less than a block away from the bay. It's alright to be jealous...

Kyler-Moo, veterinarian

He loves animals. Any animals will do, as long as they have paws, beaks, claws, snouts, trunks, feathers, fur or pelt. Today's obsession was the seagulls and ducks at the pier. He so graciously took the ENTIRE loaf of (moldy) bread to feed them. He originally threw it piece by tiny piece to each of the seagulls. That is until they started to fly too close and pee and poop while flying near us. At that point he started throwing entire slices of bread into the water...I didn't care what he did, as long as they flew far.far.away from us.