5 loads of laundry.
27 pieces of rice krispy cereal on the floor.
1 rotten banana. leaking...onto my
5 newly but now ruined sticks of Mentos.
5 seconds.
1 baby's curiosity.
1 mom's carelessness.
1 lick of a Pledge bottle.
2 hours of calls with the on call nurse and poison control.
2 sick boys.
2 infected ears.
lots of tissue boxes.
coughing. hacking. gooey yuckiness.
1 healthy mom (so far). ...
Whenever you feel down with life... with how messy your house is, how out of control your to do lists have become, and overwhelmed by the thought of what you would like to do but cannot do because of circumstances outside of your control... just know you are not alone. That's what I'm telling myself today.
And if you still feel bad... just remember you were the one spermatozoa who made it. Out of millions!
Yeah, feeling pretty good about myself right now.
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
Monday, March 26, 2012
Zhua Zhou: Our Family's Chinese Tradition
Whenever a child turns one in my family, it's customary for us to have a zhua zhou. Translated to English, zhua is "to pick" and zhou is my Maiden name, or a first anniversary. Upon turning one, a bunch of symbolic items are placed before a child for them to choose from. Items represent future career paths or interests, with traditional Chinese items that are homonyms (such as green onions for intelligence since it sounds like smart in Mandarin) and other more straightforward items which have stood the test of time (like a stethoscope or calculator).
I don't remember my own, but I remember vividly my brother Ray's, my cousin Eileen's, and my cousin's child, Abby's - the family gathering and anticipating which item the child would pick... the screaming, the outward gushes of excitement and loud laughter... not so much what they picked though. In our family, it's a fun little tradition which doesn't mean much despite it "predicting" what future career paths or interests a child might have. The Chinese elders like to talk about it like it was obvious from the zhua zhou but I guarantee you I did not pick a calculator (at least I hope not)...
The Koreans do a similar thing called the doljabi only it actually entails a fancy party, some rice columns as part of the decoration and an elaborate Korean outfit the one year old will adorn halfway through the party. I saw some super cute doljabi boards online but noticed there were no zhua zhou ones, so with the help of my new Adobe Photoshop, I made my own! I won't be blowing it up to a big board like the Korean parties, but I may print an 8x10 and frame it for the family to make bets and give whoever wins a photo of Jordan framed hahahaha.
Saturday, March 24, 2012
Oh Photoshop... The Fun We Will Have Together!
I have wanted Adobe Photoshop ever since I used it for a flier I made back in 2000. Dreams do come true.
For Christmas, my awesome in-laws gave me my own Adobe Photoshop.
Even though I have owned it for a while, I never opened it until this week.
Here's what I made on excel.. without Photoshop, the t-shirt design for my BFF's bachelorette party: destination Austin, Texas.
But Photoshop is way more fun and easy. Especially since it's so easy to emboss, bevel and drop shadow font and layer stuff. So here's my experiment for the night. I am so giggly with excitement.. I'd skip if I weren't sitting lazily on the couch with my wannabe boppy alleviating my lap from the heat from my computer. HEE. HEE.
Oh Photoshop, the fun we will have together!
For Christmas, my awesome in-laws gave me my own Adobe Photoshop.
Even though I have owned it for a while, I never opened it until this week.
Here's what I made on excel.. without Photoshop, the t-shirt design for my BFF's bachelorette party: destination Austin, Texas.
But Photoshop is way more fun and easy. Especially since it's so easy to emboss, bevel and drop shadow font and layer stuff. So here's my experiment for the night. I am so giggly with excitement.. I'd skip if I weren't sitting lazily on the couch with my wannabe boppy alleviating my lap from the heat from my computer. HEE. HEE.
Oh Photoshop, the fun we will have together!
Thursday, March 22, 2012
That's My Soap!
My mom got me a few really delicious smelling bars of Asian soap. I was so excited to shower, thinking of how wonderful it smelled (I use Asian body soap but I bought the wrong kind and this container is so big that it feels like I haven't made much of a dent). And then I started to notice my wonderful bar of soap growing smaller disproportionately to the speed I was using it. I didn't figure out who the culprit was until Andy came out smelling like a girl the other day.
"Have you been using my soap?" I asked.
His eyes opened and his shoulders rose as he shrugged.
The look said it all. "Use your Old Spice body soap!" I demanded.
"I'm all out and it's so easy when the soap's just there." He then started to articulately explain how the body soap and loofa process is more complicated and time consuming than using the bar of soap. Why doesn't Old Spice doesn't just make a bar of soap instead of body soap?
The bar of Asian soap was at its end two nights ago. As I was working in the dining room, I heard a yell from Andy asking if I could get him more soap (he knows the box came with four and we've only used two thus far). "No, just use my body soap!" "No, I don't want to, I'll smell like a girl!" he replied.
Seriously?
I didn't respond. When Andy was done with his shower, he came out into the living room, asking me why I hadn't brought him the bar of soap.
"It's MY soap! Just use my body soap!"
I thought we were done with the soap conversation.
In the shower last night, I noticed a new bar of yummy soap sitting there. "Andy!!!!" I yelled from the bathroom .... "you got another bar of soap?! How did you know where it was?" (I didn't hide it, but I just didn't reveal to him where it was tucked away in the guest bathroom cabinets).
"I just took it from the guest bathroom," he responded matter of factly. "I saw it when I was giving Jordan a bath."
Oh yeah, I left it there because we were out of other bars of soap and had family visiting last week. DOH!
On my shopping list today: ANY BRAND of soap, bar form.
"Have you been using my soap?" I asked.
His eyes opened and his shoulders rose as he shrugged.
The look said it all. "Use your Old Spice body soap!" I demanded.
"I'm all out and it's so easy when the soap's just there." He then started to articulately explain how the body soap and loofa process is more complicated and time consuming than using the bar of soap. Why doesn't Old Spice doesn't just make a bar of soap instead of body soap?
The bar of Asian soap was at its end two nights ago. As I was working in the dining room, I heard a yell from Andy asking if I could get him more soap (he knows the box came with four and we've only used two thus far). "No, just use my body soap!" "No, I don't want to, I'll smell like a girl!" he replied.
Seriously?
I didn't respond. When Andy was done with his shower, he came out into the living room, asking me why I hadn't brought him the bar of soap.
"It's MY soap! Just use my body soap!"
I thought we were done with the soap conversation.
In the shower last night, I noticed a new bar of yummy soap sitting there. "Andy!!!!" I yelled from the bathroom .... "you got another bar of soap?! How did you know where it was?" (I didn't hide it, but I just didn't reveal to him where it was tucked away in the guest bathroom cabinets).
"I just took it from the guest bathroom," he responded matter of factly. "I saw it when I was giving Jordan a bath."
Oh yeah, I left it there because we were out of other bars of soap and had family visiting last week. DOH!
On my shopping list today: ANY BRAND of soap, bar form.
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
Intercept What?
It started out as a normal Monday. Jordan woke up, had some milk, some oatmeal, played a bit and then took his morning nap. Andy got a nice text message telling him to come in on Tuesday instead, so he stuck around (tender mercy). I did some work for BlueSky. Andy did some p90x. My mom invited us to Tokyo Wako with the my extended uncles, aunts and cousins who are in town from Taiwan. Jordan woke up. We got ready to go. And here's where it all went sour.
I know it's common to blame a misbehaved child on lack of sleep or hunger. Likewise, Jordan is never unhappy when he wakes up. He usually can't wait to eat and play. But this was different.
He didn't want the bottle. He cried when I tried to feed him his favorite little fishy Chinese rice and carrots (that my mom makes for him). He whimpered when I changed him. And then he started arching his back. Erratically jerking around. Screaming vehemently. I didn't know what was wrong, and when I put him in front of his table top toy, he fell to a sitting position and continued to cry in pain. Something was wrong. That much I knew. I called my mom to tell her we wouldn't make it to lunch. Meanwhile, Andy told me to call the doctor.
When your husband is a medical student... you listen to what he says with a grain of salt. Most of the time, he has no idea what's wrong and will tell you to just go see a doctor. When he says in a stern voice to call the doctor now you know something is not right. It was 12:15 PM, the doctors were at lunch until 1:30 PM, did I want the doctor paged for me? All of a sudden, Jordan was vomiting. Projectile. Chunks. of. oatmeal. Still screaming. And then tired. Dozing off. Lethargic. Barely there.
At this point, Andy was yelling at me to get dressed to go. He grabbed some oil and gave Jordan a blessing and told me, we were going to the doctor's right that moment. He kept patting Jordan's face, repeating his name over and over as Jordan looked like all he wanted to do was sleep. Jordan! Jordan! Jordan! That's all I remember hearing as we raced out the door and to the elevator. And before the elevator even got called, he told me to dial 911. At some point, I heard him say Jordan wasn't breathing. It's all a blur of slow motion now.
We got downstairs and Jordan opened his eyes slowly, only to vomit again. The 911 operator was asking me where I lived, telling me to stay calm, Andy was repeating Jordan's name over and over, and all I could think was... what if Andy wasn't home?! I made a silent commitment to take a CPR and first aid class after all this was done. What if Andy had to work today?!
Do we stay in the lobby? Walk out to the parking lot? Andy, what do we do? Where do we go? Is he going to be okay?
The next thing I knew, the fire truck pulled up to us as I motioned to them that this was for us. They asked some questions, and we began recounting the events' that we would then repeat over and over again to every nurse, doctor, and technician we ran into. The ambulance came. He vomited some more. Jordan's doctor called me back. She listened to me repeat the playback and suggested we go to the ER. Andy, unsure if he'd stop breathing, decided to ride in the ambulance with him to the ER. I drove the van. Off to the ER we went.
After some more vomiting of bile and interjected screams of pain between short naps, they told us he might have an intussusception. That means his intestines in his bowels have turned into a telescope on itself as seen here:
I know it's common to blame a misbehaved child on lack of sleep or hunger. Likewise, Jordan is never unhappy when he wakes up. He usually can't wait to eat and play. But this was different.
He didn't want the bottle. He cried when I tried to feed him his favorite little fishy Chinese rice and carrots (that my mom makes for him). He whimpered when I changed him. And then he started arching his back. Erratically jerking around. Screaming vehemently. I didn't know what was wrong, and when I put him in front of his table top toy, he fell to a sitting position and continued to cry in pain. Something was wrong. That much I knew. I called my mom to tell her we wouldn't make it to lunch. Meanwhile, Andy told me to call the doctor.
When your husband is a medical student... you listen to what he says with a grain of salt. Most of the time, he has no idea what's wrong and will tell you to just go see a doctor. When he says in a stern voice to call the doctor now you know something is not right. It was 12:15 PM, the doctors were at lunch until 1:30 PM, did I want the doctor paged for me? All of a sudden, Jordan was vomiting. Projectile. Chunks. of. oatmeal. Still screaming. And then tired. Dozing off. Lethargic. Barely there.
At this point, Andy was yelling at me to get dressed to go. He grabbed some oil and gave Jordan a blessing and told me, we were going to the doctor's right that moment. He kept patting Jordan's face, repeating his name over and over as Jordan looked like all he wanted to do was sleep. Jordan! Jordan! Jordan! That's all I remember hearing as we raced out the door and to the elevator. And before the elevator even got called, he told me to dial 911. At some point, I heard him say Jordan wasn't breathing. It's all a blur of slow motion now.
We got downstairs and Jordan opened his eyes slowly, only to vomit again. The 911 operator was asking me where I lived, telling me to stay calm, Andy was repeating Jordan's name over and over, and all I could think was... what if Andy wasn't home?! I made a silent commitment to take a CPR and first aid class after all this was done. What if Andy had to work today?!
Do we stay in the lobby? Walk out to the parking lot? Andy, what do we do? Where do we go? Is he going to be okay?
The next thing I knew, the fire truck pulled up to us as I motioned to them that this was for us. They asked some questions, and we began recounting the events' that we would then repeat over and over again to every nurse, doctor, and technician we ran into. The ambulance came. He vomited some more. Jordan's doctor called me back. She listened to me repeat the playback and suggested we go to the ER. Andy, unsure if he'd stop breathing, decided to ride in the ambulance with him to the ER. I drove the van. Off to the ER we went.
Andy went over the options with me and told me he thought they might be able to inject barium into his body with an enema (in other words, for us non-medical field folk, putting this small tube up his butt to get the colored air up there so they can see it on the screen with an x-ray). If that didn't work... he'd have to have surgery, which would freak me out. We waited. And waited.
And finally they took him for an ultrasound. They put jelly on his stomach and I told him that's what they did when he was inside of mommy's stomach. He didn't seem to understand. After they finished a brutally long ultrasound, he vomited again. We tucked away the towel with the vomit so we could show the ER nurse.
And then we waited some more. And some more. Andy had a good feeling it was what they said. The intercept whatever you call it. And after a couple more hours, they came to tell us it indeed was.
We waited some more for the procedure to be done.
And finally they took him for the barium enema. A radiologist did it (which was neat to me since that's the specialty Andy is going into) and I sat nearby and took photos of the screen.
After the process was completed, Jordan was admitted into the pediatric wing. A nurse gave him a happy face orange ball as we were walking over, and he loved it. That and his little jail crib. He could not sit still. Climb over here. Grab something there. Pull up. Sit down. Crawl around. We didn't have confirmation from any professionals yet, but we could already tell the procedure worked.
I went home to collect some stuff, came back and poor Jordan had an IV on his left hand. For anyone who's had a kid, IVs HURT. My heart ached a little but I was glad I didn't have to hold his hand (thank you hubs) while they inserted the fat needle. It looked like a little cast and he loved banging it on things to make noise. He couldn't eat anything in case the intestines weren't completely separated and he needed a more invasive procedure... so he had to wait until 10 PM (that's 12 hours!) for 3 ounces of formula. To distract him, we facetimed with Andy's sister and parents, called my mom and listened to many of the Church's Children's Songs. He wanted more food so badly... but we couldn't give him anymore until 12 AM. And then we only gave him 5 more ounces.
The night shift began after 11:30 PM. That's when Andy went home since he had class this morning. It was absolutely dreadful. It's not that the sofa bed was uncomfortable, because it actually wasn't bad (and we brought our own blankets). It was the fact that I had to listen to muffled cries and screams from other children all throughout the night. It was a bittersweet feeling to know my own son was sound asleep and on the road to recovery while hearing the moans and whimpers not too far away.
He slept through the night with a few murmured groans, but I woke up everytime someone came in to take his vitals and sporadically in between to make sure he was still breathing.
In the morning, he had enough. He wanted out and to crawl around and eat. Since I couldn't let him crawl on the hospital floor, he cried in rebellion.
But I thought he was pretty cute with his little IV arm.
At one point, he fell asleep and so did I... but he woke up due to some poop and started to bang the IV stand against the crib to get my attention. Smart boy!
They monitored him for half a day before we were allowed to leave. What an experience. I am grateful for so many things from today.
I'm grateful my husband has the priesthood and was able to bless him before we left.
I'm grateful for tender mercies and Andy staying home from work on Monday instead of Tuesday (also his doctor texted him to come in Wednesday instead because he had meetings all Tuesday afternoon).
I'm grateful for our insurance which is no longer high deductible. Bring it on ambulance costs.
I'm grateful for the power of prayer, as I know many prayers were said for Jordan and for us.
I'm grateful for the flexibility of my other job, which allowed me to still get my work done despite being in the hospital for the last day and a half.
I'm grateful for Andy's medical training which expedited our trip to the hospital.
I'm grateful for the spirit which guided and calmed us.
I'm grateful for Jordan not knowing what was on his arm and treating it as a new toy instead.
I'm grateful he's sleeping soundly and that his intestines are a-okay now.
I'm grateful for tubes that go up butts to help spread telescoped intestines.
Monday, March 19, 2012
Oh The Places We Will Go!
Congratulations!
Today is our day.
We're off to Great Places!
We're off and away!
We have matched for residency!
We have had a baby too...
We will leave LA completely...
We will have so much packing to do!
But at least we I get to browse and choose.
We won't be on our own though
Lots of family in tow!
We'll have some more posh burgers and Chinese
Before we leave... the days we shall seize.
Probably head to the beach as well,
So we can take photos and show and tell....
That we lived in LA once upon a time
OH!
THE PLACES WE'LL GO!
I, I Love You Like A Love Song, Baby
And I keep hitting repeat-peat-peat-peat-peat-peat!
I always imagined a career change would push me to move. Or a mid-life crisis if I was still single and looking. Instead, it's for my husband and our family. Kind of funny how things turn out and what you'll do for the things that matter. For the things you love.
We had been waiting for Match Day since Monday when we were notified that Andy indeed matched. For some reason, I had convinced myself that I was going to be happy in New Mexico. On the bright side, we only had to move once for the five year program. I had done such a good job of managing my expectations that when we matched with Utah, (a program we didn't think we had much of a chance to match with) the envelope reveal made me speechless. For those who know me, I'm pretty verbose and being speechless is quite rare. ><
I'm excited, of course I'm excited... but let's face it, I was going to be scared out of my mind at some point regardless of where we matched (so long as it was outside of California). Despite wanting to go somewhere cheaper and more conservative than the uber liberal, expensive, and pretty superficial state of California, I have not know much of anything else. I do not know how to live in cold weather. It's completely foreign to me. I can't wear flip flops all the time?! I have to wear socks?! I don't have boots for the cold... I have boots that are very distant from purposeful. Wannabe Uggs originally purchased to be paired with tights and skirts and a few pairs of Doc Martens that Andy thinks look manly and chunky, some high heeled boots never worn more than three consecutive hours and still like new, and some goth looking ones for a phase I went through in 2008. Yes... my collection is sparse and far from applicable for our new adventures in Spokane (for a year) and Salt Lake City. What do you mean it snows in March elsewhere? Winter is a few weeks and some rainy days in February, right?? .....
I'm nervous. Very nervous. Nervous about moving, leaving, and having to make friends and find my places (you know, to cut your hair, get a facial, buy this, buy that...etc.) again.
I'm eager. Very eager. Eager to pack, unpack, organize, put things inside of boxes, rearrange, clean, and make a new home for us.
I'm tired. Very tired. Tired of thinking where to begin. Tired of realizing I'm a bit of a hoarder pack rat. Tired of the emotional drain and curiosity I have about whether or not I can do this.
I'm happy. Very happy. Happy that we'll be close to family, and happy that Jordan will have easy access to family.
I'm sad. Very sad. Sad that we'll be leaving family here and sad that Asian food will never taste so good for so cheap and be so easy.
I also wonder quite a bit. What's it like over there? Will I like it? Can I be positive? What's there to do? Can I look on the bright side? Will I make any new friends? Do I know how to dress warm enough? Will it be fun? Will I get used to it quickly? Will I miss California? Will Jordan remember his family here?
I don't have any answers. Only questions. And so I just sing this song to remember I'm doing this for things I love.
I, I love you like a love song, baby. I, I love you like a love song, baby. And I keep hitting re-peat, peat, peat, peat, peat, peat. .....
I always imagined a career change would push me to move. Or a mid-life crisis if I was still single and looking. Instead, it's for my husband and our family. Kind of funny how things turn out and what you'll do for the things that matter. For the things you love.
We had been waiting for Match Day since Monday when we were notified that Andy indeed matched. For some reason, I had convinced myself that I was going to be happy in New Mexico. On the bright side, we only had to move once for the five year program. I had done such a good job of managing my expectations that when we matched with Utah, (a program we didn't think we had much of a chance to match with) the envelope reveal made me speechless. For those who know me, I'm pretty verbose and being speechless is quite rare. ><
I'm excited, of course I'm excited... but let's face it, I was going to be scared out of my mind at some point regardless of where we matched (so long as it was outside of California). Despite wanting to go somewhere cheaper and more conservative than the uber liberal, expensive, and pretty superficial state of California, I have not know much of anything else. I do not know how to live in cold weather. It's completely foreign to me. I can't wear flip flops all the time?! I have to wear socks?! I don't have boots for the cold... I have boots that are very distant from purposeful. Wannabe Uggs originally purchased to be paired with tights and skirts and a few pairs of Doc Martens that Andy thinks look manly and chunky, some high heeled boots never worn more than three consecutive hours and still like new, and some goth looking ones for a phase I went through in 2008. Yes... my collection is sparse and far from applicable for our new adventures in Spokane (for a year) and Salt Lake City. What do you mean it snows in March elsewhere? Winter is a few weeks and some rainy days in February, right?? .....
I'm nervous. Very nervous. Nervous about moving, leaving, and having to make friends and find my places (you know, to cut your hair, get a facial, buy this, buy that...etc.) again.
I'm eager. Very eager. Eager to pack, unpack, organize, put things inside of boxes, rearrange, clean, and make a new home for us.
I'm tired. Very tired. Tired of thinking where to begin. Tired of realizing I'm a bit of a hoarder pack rat. Tired of the emotional drain and curiosity I have about whether or not I can do this.
I'm happy. Very happy. Happy that we'll be close to family, and happy that Jordan will have easy access to family.
I'm sad. Very sad. Sad that we'll be leaving family here and sad that Asian food will never taste so good for so cheap and be so easy.
I also wonder quite a bit. What's it like over there? Will I like it? Can I be positive? What's there to do? Can I look on the bright side? Will I make any new friends? Do I know how to dress warm enough? Will it be fun? Will I get used to it quickly? Will I miss California? Will Jordan remember his family here?
I don't have any answers. Only questions. And so I just sing this song to remember I'm doing this for things I love.
I, I love you like a love song, baby. I, I love you like a love song, baby. And I keep hitting re-peat, peat, peat, peat, peat, peat. .....
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