I Get it. I'm Short.

I give you fair warning-- this post is full of  whiny complaints.  If you don't want to read whiny complaints I suggest you move on.  Don't say I didn't warn you.

Yep.  Its true.  I'm short.

Kai stopped growing when he was 4.  The pediatrician first noticed that Kai's height wasn't increasing the way it should at his 5 year check up.  He said it probably wasn't a big deal because I'm short so the boy is probably going to be short too.  Besides kids drop off their curve all the time and they jump back on soon enough.

A year later he referred us to an endocrinologist who at the first appointment said, yes his growth (or lack there of) was concerning but wanted to make sure that I understood no matter what, he'd probably be short.  Uh.  Yeah.  I get that. 

Six months later the endocrinologist referred us to a gastroenterologist. We went over it again.  Yes I'm short but yes he should be growing. 

About six months later she and my pediatrician referred us to a geneticist.  We got on a list and waited 6 months to get an appointment to see the geneticist.  We saw him today.  He said that he plotted where the boy is on the growth chart and because the boy is the same distance from the bottom curve as I am there isn't really a problem.  And maybe if his growth (or lack there of) continues I could send him an email in 3 years.   When my 11 year old child is still the size of a 4 year old I'll be sure and send a note his way. 

He then went on to insinuate that I'm just upset because he's not going to be tall,  as if I have grandiose dreams of raising a basketball player.  He obviously hasn't spent a lot of time with Michael.  He said that kids stop growing all the time.  Mike said, "for FOUR years?"  "Well," he said, "that is a little long and the fact that he's only grown 3 centimeters in 4 years is a little alarming.  But it isn't like he's in and out of the hospital all the time so just enjoy him." 

I find it very insulting that a doctor would think I would put him through all this just because I don't like the fact that he's short.  Maybe my concern (as well as the other doctors that referred me to him) is that his lack of growth is obviously being caused by something.  That something needs to be figured out in case there are other things it is also causing that we don't know about yet. 

There I'm now officially done with my whiny complaints.  Though the endocrinologist does have the boy scheduled for a growth hormone stimulation test as well as whole battery of other tests on Monday.  So stear clear I may be in a bad mood then too.

What We Did on Easter

I have people tell me that I'm at the doctor a  lot and I wonder, am I at the doctor more than the average mom?  Should I not assume that the office staff knows the voice of every caller?  Is it a bad sign that when I start my question to the on-call nurse by saying, "My 7-year-old son . . ." she interrupts me with, "We're talking about MacKay?  Right?"  As soon as I say hello and the age of the child crying in the background they know who I am and who's crying.  Does this mean I'm there too much or do I just have an awesome doctor who has an awesome office staff?

Either way Davis must not think he sees the doctor enough because Sunday he took a chunk out of his cornea with a small wooden helicopter.  From what I gather taking a chunk out of your cornea hurts.  When something hurts small children tend to insist on a band-aid--even when band-aids are totally and completely useless.  I let the kids have free reign over the band-aids because they are an inexpensive way to calm a screaming child.  Yes, we go through a lot of band-aids.  However, there are times when I have to draw the line.  For example, I do not let the kids put band-aids on their eyes.  This particular line caused a problem on Sunday because Davis really really wanted a band-aid on his eye.  I suggested what I thought was the next best thing--sunglasses.  I even called them "band-aids for your eyes" and he totally fell for it.  The only problem is that he didn't actually have sunglasses and Kai wasn't about to let Davis borrow his because they were "oh so special."  Fortunately Madison came to the rescue with these beauties.

The crying stopped and I was able to take little Elton John to see the doctor.  Davis took the glasses off long enough to let the doctor put drops in his eyes that glowed florescent yellow under a black light (eat your heart out big Elton John) and I suggested he let us have some for Halloween.  I think the doctor would have thought that was funny if he saw us more often, but he doesn't get my sense of humor yet.  But then, we've only seen him three times so far this week.

A Weeks Worth

Monday I took Davis to the doctor for a weight check. This was not very fun.

Tuesday Madison fell off the monkey bars at school and hurt her foot. I wasn't there, but I can't imagine it was fun.

Wednesday I took Madison to the doctor to look at her foot. I also took her to the hospital for an x-ray. This took forever. We were stuck in construction traffic, it was hot, and not very fun.

Thursday I took Davis to the doctor because he had a high fever and I suspected he had an ear infection. Was this trip to the doctor fun? No. Strange? To say the least.

Thursday is the other doctor's day. We rarely see this doctor. In fact we have tried to avoid him ever since he rubbed Michael's back and said, "Lets hope Madison sleeps better tonight, Daddy."

So yesterday I found myself in a small room with four kids waiting for the doctor to check Davis's ears. While we were waiting Chase kept going into the corner right behind the door in order to hold nonsensical conversations with a grover who is painted on the wall. Kai was wired--really wired. Davis was sick, crying, and generally pathetic. Madison was quietly knitting-- I love that girl.

The doctor slowly opened the door and said he thought he heard someone talking behind it. It was Chase and Grover. As soon as the doctor saw Chase he put his hands together as if to pray, then bowed. Chase ignored him and went back to his conversation with Grover. The doctor turned and told me he thought Chase was growing into a beautiful little girl who spoke very well for how long she'd been here. I figured if he was impressed with Chase's 3 year old English he'd be really impressed with how well Davis is doing--only 11 months and saying "da da." His accent is spot on too.

He sat down to look at Davis and said, "It's Davis right?" I shook my head. "Well David let's look in your ears." He looked in Davis's ears then looked at me. "Her ears are beautiful. " In less than a minute he went from Davis to David to Her. Perhaps I should stop putting the little boys in dresses.

Before we left he gave each of the kids a new box of crayons. Chase immediately ripped the box open and sent 24 crayons flying around the office. As Madison and the P.A. scrambled to pick them up the doctor turned to me and said, "You wanna know something funny about those crayons? They're made in China."

Stitch Removal

The stitches have been removed.

The first thing the doctor said was, "Wow! Who did those stitches?" Madison cut her knee at night and so we had to go to the after hours doctor. When I told him who had done them he said he should have known. "I really have to get him to show me how he does his stitches sometime. They're amazing!"

I had no idea that different doctors did stitches different ways. I suppose you can wax creative in almost any profession.

Wicked Stiching

I think it was two years ago that Madison cut her big toe open on a carpet tack. Although it wasn't that horrible of a cut, it was in a bad place and kept reopening so she had to have three stitches. I was working at the time, so Michael had to take her and the two boys to the doctor by himself. I guess it's really hard to numb a toe and though they tried, it didn't work. It took several people to hold her down while they stitched. She was screaming so loud Kai was cowering in the corner with his hands over his ears. There was a little boy in the waiting room who also needed stitches, I imagine he was pretty freaked out by the time she was done. The doctor felt so bad that he carried Madison out to the car, apologizing the whole time. It was a very unpleasant experience for all involved.

Friday night I was working on the computer when I heard her screaming, "MY KNEE" over and over. She came running into the room. She had accidentally knelt down on a toy matchbox helicopter. She had a gash that was about an inch long and I was fairly certain she needed stitches. It was after hours, of course. My children wouldn't dream of injuring themselves during regular copay hours, it's not nearly as fun.

Needless to say, Madison did not want to have stitches again. As the nurse was applying a numbing cream to her cut I mentioned the toe incident and said she was scared shi . . . well, she was really scared (I had to edit myself I don't think nurses like it when you swear). She ended up getting the numbing cream and a couple of shots and didn't even cry once. Here she is $30 and 5 stitches later. Poor girl. Don't worry I told her to milk it.


My adorable, sweet, calm (ish), 7 year old has had stitches twice now and my adorable, but insane 5 year old hasn't had more than a really bad whack to the head. Okay, so he had 2 skull x-rays by the time he was 3, but both times he was totally fine! I am beginning to wonder if he really is a super hero.

Funny Business

About two years ago I switched pediatricians. I had a pediatrician I loved but he went on hiatus and left me in the hands of several very incapable morons. Not wanting to risk the health of my children until his return, I decided to move on. Luckily, I found another pediatrician whom I love.

On our first visit I told him I switched because the incapable morons at the last office never listened to me. Looking back, I think that may have scared him a little. I think he was afraid of me. And I enjoyed occasionally tormenting him.

In May Madison went in for her 7yr check-up and he asked her if she uses a booster while in the car. She very unhappily reported that she did, but she didn't like it, because none of her friends sat in a booster. He pointed out that being very short and about 35 pounds she was going to be in a booster for a very long time. I said, "Don't worry, we know all about that. I mean, I just got out of mine!" He didn't laugh. He just gave me a weird look. I think he was trying to decide if it was true or not. For the record, it isn't true. I was never in a booster. Now, my drivers ed teacher made me bring pillows to sit on when I drove the car--but that's totally different.

I told Madison to suck it up. I mean look at that girl in the poster, obviously she LOVES her booster seat! Madison should be more like that.

After he fixed Chase dislocated elbow he asked me how it happened. I told him the whole story and told him how loud Chase was screaming. I have NEVER heard him scream like that before. Then I added, "and we were in the library!" He turned on his nice doctor voice (you know, the one people use when they are talking to really old people) and responded with, "Well . . . it really hurt." Apparently he hasn't been in the library with a child screaming like you just cut his finger off. And, It wasn't like we were in the kid section, where I am sure they are used to that sort of thing. We were in the "please turn your cellphone off section" where people don't look kindly upon screaming babies. If there had been blood and perhaps some exposed bone, they may have been sympathetic. Dislocated elbows just don't do it.

I thought he didn't have a sense of humor, and felt sorry for him. How do you survive without one? Then yesterday I took Kai in for a check-up. When I checked in, the receptionist gave me some papers to fill out. One was a sleep apnea screening, and the other was a questionnaire about his behavior. I didn't know how to fill out the questionnaire because he has times where he behaves like a totally different kid. I thought I could just fill out an average, but didn't think that would be really helpful. So I asked for two copies of the questionnaire. I filled out one for how he acts when he is my sweet little boy, and one for how he acts when he is . . . well, not my sweet little boy. I then labeled them appropriately. I was tempted to write "Angel" on the top of one and "Antichrist" on the top of the other, but figured after the library thing, I probably shouldn't push it.

When the doctor came in I gave him the clip board and he realized that I had filled out two copies of the same questionnaire. He started laughing, "You filled out two . . . ." Not just giggling, but really laughing. I looked at him like he was crazy, and said, "the receptionist said I could, I thought it would be helpful." He just kept laughing, "I've never had anyone do that before!" Ha Ha Ha.

It turns out he does have a sense of humor. Now I wish I had added "Angel" and "Antichrist" to my labels, because that would have been funny.

Things I am Grateful For

The last few days have been . . . unusual. Needless to say, they have helped me become more grateful.

**That is Kai's turkey btw and he wanted to make sure I understood that pink thing is not his beak, it's his wattle. **

My week in review . . .

Day 1: While at the library Chase dislocates his elbow

The librarian was trying to help me find a book (The 5 Love Languages of Children ironically enough) and Chase kept trying to run off. I held his hand pretty tight and he lifted up his legs and dropped. POP . . . SCREAM. The boy can scream. We went straight to the doctor and had it relocated.

I am grateful for wonderful librarians-- she continued to look for the book, and when she found it she called me and told me she had set it aside for me to pick up. I guess she thought I really needed it.

I am also grateful for an awesome pediatrician who showed me how to relocate an elbow by myself. Useful knowledge I'm sure.

Day 2: Kai makes friends with the big boys

After school Kai and I were waiting for his sister to come out of her classroom. Four boys pass us. They are 10, maybe 12. Each of them walks by and says, "Hey Kai." He responds all cool, "Hey whats up." Complete with head nod.

I am grateful for children with confidence, even if they are on the small side.

Day 3: Chase loses my wedding ring

While I am getting the two older kids ready for school, Chase gets into my nightstand. He spread its contents all over the bedroom. I found everything, except my wedding ring. He may have swallowed it. Only time will tell.

I am grateful for cubic zirconium and other cheap diamond alternatives.

Day 4: We spent 4 hours in the ER

Chase had a fever. Nope it wasn't related to the wedding ring. I still haven't found the ring. Frankly I'm not that excited about that treasure hunt.

I am grateful for friends who will come to your house at 3am so you don't have to take all four of the kids to the ER with you.

Day 5: I made dinner

No really, I did. I made chicken and potatoes. I even bought rolls. It was going to be a surprise, but I had to break down and call Michael because I couldn't figure out where he keeps the potatoes.

I am grateful for large pantries, crock pots, and husbands that cook.

Day 6: The kids have a half day

I volunteered in Kai's kindergarten class for the day. It was only a half day after all.

I am grateful I had the foresight not to major in elementary education. I am grateful for all the incredibly wonderful (though perhaps a bit touched) people who did major in elementary education and are willing to teach an all-day kindergarten class.

Day 7: Kai freaks out in the store

As I am taking him outside he's screaming "LET GO OF ME!" I am stopped by a woman who is convinced I am trying to kidnap him. I suspect she followed me and wrote down my license plate number in case she heard an amber alert later.

I am grateful the boy wasn't really being kidnapped. Although he can be a real pistol, he is pretty cute.

I am not grateful for the mothers curse, however. Apparently she had similar experiences with me. I am grateful that I too must have been pretty cute, or I doubt I would be here today to write this blog.

The Blood Pressure Game

Yesterday I went to the arthritis doctor. I know, I know, I'm too young! Tell me about it. I am the only person under 70 in the waiting room.

A normal visit goes something like this

1. Check in
2. Sit and wait
3. Get put in a room
4. Sit and wait
5. A nurse comes and checks your blood pressure
6. Sit and wait
7. Talk to the doctor

Yesterday they decided to switch it up a bit. I think they wanted to add a little spice to the old people's day. They decided to play the blood pressure game. An old person party classic!

Here is how it works. Instead of taking the patients blood pressure in the privacy of a room, you take it in the waiting room and announce it.

Most of the patients blood pressure was around 120 over 75-- not bad for old people. Mine was 111 over 69-- far and away better than anyone else there at the time! However, everyone in the office was shocked when nurse announced the woman after me. Her blood pressure was 220 over 78! You could litterally hear the other patients gasp! Then her husband very enthusiastically said, "Wow! Thats great!"

I suspect he thinks they won the blood pressure game. I don't know, maybe they did. I've always been shooting for low, but I recognize that high can be an accomplishment too. I like to think that I'm very fair and open minded. It's one of the many ways I keep my blood pressure down.

Small Fries

The kids and I are short. Madison and Chase are both hanging out at the fifth percentile for height. We don’t really know what percentile Kai is, because he has fallen below the fifth percentile, and apparently they don’t have a chart for people that short.

So, Friday I took the baby to the doctor for his four month check-up. He hit the fifth percentile for weight and the thirtieth for height. As the doctor was looking over his growth chart he said, “Wow! It looks like he’s going to be tall!” Then he quickly qualified it with, “. . . well, I mean for you guys.” Trying to see just how much of his foot would fit in his mouth he added, “. . . you know, sometimes it’s best to compare us against ourselves.”