A Love-Hate Relationship

Last night little A had a heckuva coughing fit. It went a little something like this: cough, cough, gasp, cough, gasp, wheeze, "Help!" I desperately want to help him breathe, but I can't do much more than what we've been doing: Pulmicort 2x a day, Albuterol every 4 hours, timing respiratory rate (averaging 45-50 breaths per minute), checking for retractions (between 1 and 2), etc. So finally, we got Prednisolone: I love it. I hate it. I love that it can somehow open airways into my little A's lungs so he can once again breathe without retractions and wheezing (though it's taking it's own sweet time). I hate that it makes him crazy and aggressive and sad and mad and whiney. I love that we can treat him at home instead of in a hospital. I hate it when he says, "Mom, mom, mom, MOM, MOM, MOM, MOM!" with every breath, but he doesn't know what he wants. I love that he doesn't say, "Help!" every time he takes a breath. I hate that he doesn't want to be held, but screams whenever I put him down. I love that it isn't hard to give him and that it only lasts 3 days. I hate that the side effects of the steroid last for several days after he's done with the medicine. Yeah, yeah, it's all part of being a parent. I know. He just looks like he's ready to crawl right out of his own skin. Poor kid.

(If you removed the word "Love," this blog title would also be an acurate description of the feeling I have about the doctor we saw yesterday. But that is an entirely different story:)

Busted!

Adam doing his time.

Cuh-razy!

Kyekooski had a blast coming up with his outfit for crazy dress day. He decided to switch out the jeans on his head for something a little more lightweight. And I thought Zach's tie added the perfect touch. This kid's got style.

(Though you can't see it, those are gloves on his feet instead of socks.)

The original outfit: jeans on head, shirt backwards and pants inside out.

Supah-Star!!!

Lucy's current sport of choice:

That's right--it's basketball, people. I think it goes without saying that she might find long term success in this sport a little difficult--what, with her height-challenged parents, her sometimes 12 inch disparity with other players on the court, and her mother's extreme lack of coordination (which-*ahem*-led to her 2 year position as a bench sitter on the "C" team in middle school). But for now, she's having a lot of fun. Enjoy it, sweetheart. Next year I'm thinking we'll all be sleeping in on Saturday mornings.



(If you assume that I am posting these very obviously home-taken pictures instead of the uber-professional Lifetouch ones because I chose not to spend a few extra bucks on pictures I stuff straight into my kids keepsakes box, you would be WRONG!! It was because I completely forgot to fill out the envelope and send money on the correct day. So sue me.)

More Peezles

Little A. decided to step up the challenge by doing his puzzle upside down. He enjoyed it once but decided the result was pretty boring. He does all his puzzles face up now.

"Helping" Zach:

Peezles

People say my boys are little miniatures of each other . . . that perhaps when one little guy started growing up we decided to make another, identical model to fill the void . . . or something like that. Clearly, these people are crazy. I mean, I realize they look like brothers, but identical? C'mon!

#1:

#2:
#3:

But, I digress. Though they have their little differences, they somehow all look identical to Zach. And they show incredible personality similarities to their papooski, as well. One of my favorites is their incredible enjoyment of "peezles" (in the immortal words of Kye). I'm not a "peezler" at all, but all my little guys seem to love them. Adam's been doing them on his own for the past several months now, and gets an incredible feeling of satisfaction when he finishes one.

Job well done, kiddo!

Pondering

You know those moments? Those heart-wrenchingly painful moments when you hear of a tragedy that changes your life? A moment that, though it is personal to you because you knew the person, it is more personal to those you love--to those who were related to and loved that individual as only family does?

This week we had one of those moments. And I started thinking about the pain and sorrow that human beings suffer—especially those left behind—the questions, the guilt, the anger, the fear, the excruciating sadness. Oh, that sadness. My heart hurts for those I love. (It hurts for those I don’t know, too.)

Remember the shortest verse in the Bible? John 11:35? Jesus wept. Jesus wept because his friends, Mary and Martha, were mourning over the death of their brother. Jesus wept because he recognized their pain and had perfect empathy. Jesus wept, though he knew he would call Lazarus forth out of the tomb within minutes. Jesus wept, and because he did, we can know that he empathizes with us in our pain. He felt it like we feel it. And so we can turn to him for comfort.

I hope that as I see (and hear of) pain and anguish around me, I can be better at “mourning with those that mourn,” and “comforting those that stand in need of comfort.” Even if it is just to say, “I’m sorry that happened.” And I hope that when it is my turn to mourn in that deeply personal way (and that time comes to all on this earth), that those around me will offer the same.

It’s strange, though, isn’t it? That in order to feel the joy, we have to feel the pain? That darn opposition in all things. How thankful I am for it, though. I am thankful that I feel discouragement and delight and hurt and happiness and sorrow and joy. Because that means I am human. And that I am alive.

To the Larson family—all of you. We love you and are thinking of you and praying for you.

Top Ten--January 2010

10—Someday I’m going to figure out my 6 year old. This is probably not that day. I cannot figure out what makes him tick. I can’t figure out why going to school a few hours late, with an excused absence, makes him terrified and embarrassed to walk into his classroom. I can’t figure out why he is embarrassed to take pennies to donate for Haiti to school. I can’t understand why wearing his clothes backwards with gloves for socks on his feet and wearing Zach’s sandals to school does NOT make him embarrassed, if those other things did. Love, love, LOVE that kid.

9—Latest and greatest Bradshaw vocabulary:
Typical guide—what you look up in the back of the Bible (ex. Lucy: Mom, I can’t find my name in the typical guide.)
King kiss—delectable pull apart cheesy snack, also known as a cheese stick (ex. Adam: Mom, I wanna snyack. King kiss, peas?)

8—Goldie survives traumatic experience #457. It’s more than a little amazing that our almost 3 year old fish is still alive and kicking. I’d say it’s more in the “downright miracle” category, but I’m not sure you can use the word “fish” and “miracle” in the same sentence. (Well, unless you’re talking about the loaves and fishes, and that’s definitely a whole different story.) Anyway, she’s been swimming sideways and/or upside down on and off for the past several months. I’m guessing there was an air bubble trapped somewhere in there, and we were tempted to flush her. Wouldn’t you know she scraped through it okay, and is doing just fine now? Who knew? Who KNEW a goldfish would survive this long in our house? Goldie is older than Adam, for Pete’s sake.

7—K: What if you only have boy babies for the rest of your life?
M: I don’t know if I’m going to have any more babies, much less more boys.
K: (craning his head around the table for a good look at my stomach) Hmmmmm, it kind of looks like you are.
Well . . . . . huh. Time for some ab work, apparently.

6—After a few months of a family cheer (hands in . . . “Go BRADSHAWS!”) after every family prayer, we started getting a little casual with the enthusiasm. You could almost hear the raspberry noises and see the thumbs down from a certain 35 year old member of our family who shall remain nameless. It was affecting our overall gusto. After enough effort from a certain 33 year old member of our family who shall remain nameless, however, we’ve picked up steam again and hear a rousing “Goooooooooo, BRADSHAWS!” every morning and night. Good job, me.

5— Adamisms:
*But I don’t yike food, mom. (After I fruitlessly tried to get him to eat his dinner.)
*I’m not wearing any pants, not wearing any pants, no pants. (Sung in the car on the way home from AZ after he spilled water all over himself.)
*I yuv you six miyion. (After I told him, “I love you a million.”)
*Nooooooo . . . I’n a puppy. (After I asked him if he was still my baby.)
*Is dat MaryCake? (While watching our friends’ baby, MaryKate.)

4— Date nights continue. Last year we learned the joy (and importance to my sanity) of regularly scheduled dates. My personal favorite this month was dinner out and then to UVU for their rendition of Urinetown: the Musical. To quote the show, “The title’s just awful!” but there are some funny, funny parts. Some of our faves: spoofs of the Les Mis barricade building, West Side Story rumble, Trouble with a T from Music Man, and your run-of-the-mill spiritual. For your viewing pleasure, check out a short clip here. No, really, do it. It's funny, and it's the Broadway cast, so it's good. (And never mind the Chinese subtitles . . .unless of course you can read Chinese. Then, enjoy.)

3—M: Did you know when I was young, we didn’t have answering machines?
L: Whaaaaaa?!?!? How did you ever know if your friends called you?
M: You didn’t . . . unless they told you later.
L: *gasp*
I feel oldish.

2—A typical night at the B’s, minus the injuries and crying:

1—New year, new goals, new organization techniques, new flooring plans, renewed friendships, newly released from our Primary callings, new sicknesses, new schedule for church, new plans for trips this year, and new dreams.

Coming Soon . . . an update on our apparently immortal goldfish, and a review of a musical spoof, and funny things kids say and stuff like that

Never fear. The fabulous rendition of the Bradshaw family top ten for January will be arriving soon. As soon as I get a few minutes free from budgeting and child-rearing and talking and driving and errand-running and sleeping and cooking and reading. So, maybe 2 weeks from next Thursday?

For Your Groundhog Day Celebration Next Year

You should really make one of these babies. I hope Kathy doesn't mind my sharing. It was just too delightful to keep to myself. Nicely done.