It's Broken Part III

This blog title is starting to sound like a (forgive me) broken record. This time the break does not have to do with Blake. It has to do with my other boy, Dillan, who enjoyed an evening of roller skating with the youth from church and fell back and caught himself with his right hand, and now has a broken wrist. I didn't believe him at first since he wasn't loudly complaining about it, but then this morning, he said I had to take him to the doctor, and this is a boy who does not complain. So I took him to the doctor's. Then to X-Ray. Then to the orthopedist. Then to Costco (he was STARVING). The orthopedist took a look at Dillan and asked if he'd hit his growth spurt (Dillan is currently measuring in at 5'11"), I told him that he hadn't. I think the doctor was a little skeptical until he looked at the X-Ray and said "Oh, no, he hasn't hit his growth spurt. Look at all of that room in his growth plate. How tall's Dad? He's going to be a big boy." I told Dillan he may outgrow his uncles in height. Looks like he will be destined to a life of basketball. Or swimming, which was my main concern with this break, not because it is going to be 119 on Saturday, but because he has his swim championships in less than two weeks! The orthopedist put a soft cast on him that he is able to take off for showers or training for swim, but absolutely no horseplay in the pool. No Wet 'n Wild. No piano, either. I don't know what this boy is going to do with himself. I bought him a new book that he was wanting to read because I felt so bad for him. The good news to all of this is that because of the multiple visits to doctors, etc, I got to spend the WHOLE day with my boy. It was great. He,however, was a little bit shocked that his mother had no idea the importance in noting the different kinds of cars that there are, such as a Nissan 350Z vs a Nissan 370Z. I told him I have never paid that much attention to cars, and that before I had my BMW, I had no idea that there was a difference in all of the series, or whatever. I thought they were all the same. He was flabbergasted. He then sought to quiz me on cars, which has been a common theme for us that he will quiz me on his strongest subject at the time. And I have always been lacking in the kind of knowledge that he has. So, here's to happy healing for Dillan. That wrist has to heal properly so he can hit the big time in the NBA. Or the USSA.

Who's Team Are You On?

My children (minus Blake) have an Olympic Gold Medalist for their swim coach, Misty Hyman. She's great and I remember her winning the medal. We had been in the Valley of the Sun for less than one year, so I didn't know that she was a local OR that she went to the high school down the street that my children will go to. But I will never forget how close the race was and how she overcame the odds and won despite not being the favorite. And then there was her contagious triumph at winning and the biggest smile ever. Chloe was a newborn at the time, so I had lots of time to sit and feed her and watch the Olympics (just because I enjoy embarrassing my children, Dillan attempted to breastfeed his stuffed kitty). So now that she is coaching my children, I thought that they should watch her defining race. You can watch it too on YouTube. You can also watch me on YouTube, but it is far less exciting. I will attempt the link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3zUFLP40nGE . I don't know if that worked. I will have to check later. So I gathered the children that I had at home, which was everyone minus Chloe, who was getting coached by Misty at the time, and explained to them that this was Misty's race and who she was up against, etc. I'm not sure if Dillan was serious or not, but he said "I think she's going to win this race." I let it slide and didn't give him too hard of a time. Even though it happened ten years ago, Dillan and Olivia were cheering Misty on the whole race. That is until the last fifty when they were coming down the home stretch and Blake yelled out "Go Susie!" We all looked at him in disbelief. He was cheering for her opponent? The one that was favored to win? And how did he know her name? Fortunately, my other children did not do an "in your face" when Misty won. That would have been poor sportsmanship. I shared this with Misty about how her future team member was not cheering for her. She said she'll make it up to him when he's older and have him do extra butterfly.

Give it a Tri

No, I didn't misspell (because we all know how much I love to spell correctly). My sister, Nikki, has been talking to me about doing a triathlon in Utah in July. I have been afraid of the swim, because even though my children are swimmers, I am not. I gave up on swimming when I was eight years old and my goggles broke. Poor excuse, I know. But I KNEW that I had the biking thing mostly down because I have been going to spin classes for months and working my tail off. I love the puddle of sweat. I feel like I really accomplished something. Plus, I get to look in the mirror and compete with myself. So I bought "clipless" pedal shoes (I don't know what the technical name is) to try out in class first and then hit the road. The first pair and class were a disaster and HUGELY embarrassing as I attempted to #1 Put them on and #2 Clip them in. Why are they called clipless when I have to clip? Anyway, I took that pair back and got an easier putting on pair. Unfortunately, they are loose in the heel, but that was not crucial at this point. I wore them to class, and it was a SNAP, or CLIP, if you will. I tried them on my bike that Kevin bought me four years ago that until I got my shoes, did not even realize that they had clipless pedals. Silly me. Wonderful husband. I tried them in the backyard with the assistance of Chloe (and Blake, although his help was minimal. He got on his bike in front of me to demonstrate how one puts their feet on the pedals and then he raced me back and forth.) as she held the bike. After loosening the tension that I learned on YouTube, I was a professional at getting them clipped and then getting out. I took to the road. I went around the block a few times and felt pretty good. I was warned by Ed Packard that it wasn't a matter of if I would crash, it was when. I knew he didn't realize what a cautious girl I am. I was telling myself over and over again on my first "real" ride that I was clipped in and unclipped each time I was coming to a stop and had trained myself to unclip the left pedal since I am right handed. I don't know. I read that somewhere. All through the mountain preserves, neighborhood, canals, dirt trails, I was attacking the road. Well, kind of, since I am not used to the out of control feeling of the bike on the road. On my LAST stop, and chance to unclip, I failed. It was at the busiest intersection of my ride. I hit the ground and a bush. Road rash. Bike grease. Pride smashed. Thoughts of running later gone.

I also had thought of "What will I wear to church on Sunday to cover this? I will need to get a maxi dress." I was afraid that I would have everyone asking me about it and having to relive the story. That was until I got in the house. NO ONE NOTICED. There I was helping each one of them. Kevin asked me how my ride was. Blake and Olivia had demands. I started Dillan and Chloe on their chores. No one saw. Finally after thirty minutes of talking with everyone, Chloe noticed. Of course. She has always been very concerned. I thought it was a bad enough way to draw attention to myself. That is, until I went to Wet 'n Wild after this and put three large bandaids on there to protect the injury and came home looking like this:

Now it looks like road rash with white stripes, thanks to too much fun in the sun. I can only imagine what I am going to do next to draw attention to it. BUT, this will not keep me from using clipless pedals or biking outdoors again. I just hope the next crash is not in front of a bunch of people.

A Sunday Discussion and Protest

I am the Primary teacher to the five turning six year olds in our ward to a very energetic group of seven children. They have keen insight and interesting comments to share. So this was how one of our discussions went today (names have been removed to protect the parents)

Child #1: Why are we called The Latter Day Saints?

Me: Because we are in the latter days or the last days.

Child #2: This isn't our last day. We have a lot more Sundays to come to church, like until we die.

Child #3: No, we don't have to come to church after we are parents. We can just take our kids to church, drop them off, and then go home.

Needless to say, I told Child #3 this story, and they were a little bewildered that this was their child's take on coming to church on Sundays.

And now for the Protest. Olivia has a lifelong friend, Charles, who she has been in charge of since they were babies. I have informed Charles that he can speak his mind around Olivia and that she is not in charge of him, but he's dealing with a strong personality. So in singing time at Primary, the chorister divided the kids into boys and girls so that there could be a competition to get the kids to sing (BTW, I know that there is not supposed to be any competition in Primary). Unfortunately, there were about nine girls on this day and four boys, two of whom were in my class and are challenged in the singing department, so it was really two boys trying to out sing eight very vocal girls and Olivia, who can out sing anyone. When the competition was over, the chorister declared that the girls were the winner. No surprise. But Olivia was not going to take this information sitting down, because, after all, her dear friend, Charles was singing his heart out. She turned to Charles and said "Charles, do you think that's fair? I don't think that's fair. There were a lot more girls than boys and you didn't have a chance." She then pleaded her case to the chorister and told her how she was not doing her job right because really, there should not have been such an imbalanced competition, and to make it fair they should have divided into equal groups. I never pictured her as a lawyer, but she's got her first case.

It's Broken, Part II

For those of you who have followed my blog, and that means two people (that might be a record for the least amount of followers. It goes with the Most Boring Blog on the Block criteria), you will remember Blake's first incident with something being broken. I am supposed to be able to insert that right "here" and have you click on the here and then the blog post will pop up and you can refresh your memory, but I do not know how to do that. Today, Blake had a little bit of diarrhea. Sorry. I should have warned you that it may get a little graphic. He looked to see what happened in the toilet and said "It's broken." Yep. It was.

And since I have opened the door for graphic speech. I was reminded recently of a one of my favorite nursing stories. A man was having his lower leg amputated due to a history of diabetes. Unfortunately, this is something that can happen to one with diabetes. He, however, was not ready to part with his leg yet. He asked if he could keep the amputated leg and have it bronzed for a paperweight. If you are thinking this is a good idea and wonder what the paperweight looks like, IT DIDN'T HAPPEN. That's because you are not allowed to remove body parts from the hospital. That story really wasn't that graphic. I'm going to have to do better than that.

Trip to the ER

The Partridges are no strangers to Epipens, thanks to the fact that 75% of them have one for nut or egg allergies. We have never had to use one, thank goodness. But Blake took matters in to his own hands today. Literally. When he self injected the auto-inject ADULT strength epipen into his little boy big hand. Chloe called me in a panic and terrified, as she had been left in charge of him and he got a hold of the epipen and shot himself (I kept saying that today and had to rephrase myself) um, he injected himself with a needle in the palm with the epipen. She felt so bad and kept telling me how sorry she was and how bad she felt as I raced home from my drive to Costco (yay for close Costco) and got there to assess the damage. I called my doctor's office, who told me to call poison control, who told me to apply a warm compress and look for blanching and cool areas, which would indicate that the area had vessel constriction. All I could think about was the babies and little kids in the burn unit that were on epi drips and what that did to their poor little extremities as they slowly died from feet to......well, let's just say I pictured his hand turning black and falling off. So I took him to the children's ER. And then I wished that I worked in the children's ER, because I LOVE that rush of adrenaline that comes with taking care of critically sick people. I really miss it. But then I remembered the kind of people that are allowed to procreate, and reassured myself that I was fine where I am. His hand turned out to be fine, although I was concerned with the white streak that is noticeable at the base of his thumb. I was reassured that it would revascularize soon and I needn't worry. He was a very good patient. He will be unscathed by this event. I cannot say the same for Chloe. When I had to leave for the ER and I told her that she was in charge of Olivia, who, let's face it, has never really needed any kind of supervision since she was two and will arrange appointments and is charge always, and I told Chloe that she was to watch her and she was in disbelief that I could trust her to babysit one of my children with her obvious irresponsibility. Some things never change. Chloe has always been cautious and concerned about other's well being, and Olivia has always been in charge.