The Truth About Boys


My boys eat fish sticks or chicken nuggets at least four nights a week. They pick their noses and were born with the innate sense that farts are hilarious. The house is always cluttered, there are always crumbs in the seats of the car and sticky fingerprints on the windows. Sometimes they like to read books; most of the time books make good frisbees or weapons. Every toy in the house is missing at least one peice, making your brother cry is good entertainment and timeout is usually worth whatever you did to get there. Welcome to the Chretien house. Mothers have this constant voice in their head telling them that they could do better, their house could be cleaner, their waist smaller, and their kids more polite. I fall into this trap almost daily, and I am slowly learning that my success not measured by these standards. I may not be the perfect mom, but I know that my boys are happy. They know that they are loved, and they love each other. All day long they will fight over the same toy, the same book, the same spot on the couch. But, when evening comes, and they have sleepy eyes, jammied feet, and sweet smelling hair damp from bathtime, I know that we must be doing something right. This blog is dedicated to two sweet boys learning, playing, growing, and finding their place in the world, and to their mommy learning how to guide them.



Wednesday, December 30, 2009

This kid has really been giving us a run for the money in the health department. It seems like he has been sick non-stop the past few months. Once again, he started up with the coughing and wheezing, and after maybe a day or 2, just sounded awful. We got in to the pediatrician, and had to see the one doctor that I absolutely despise. She diagnosed Aiden with walking pneumonia and an ear infection. They gave him a horrible, hideous, painful shot that was supposed to take care of everything. Cole, on the other hand, sounded so much worse than Aiden, but she decided to do nothing. She said to continue with his nebulizer twice a day, and to just wait it out. We went home, and this just didn't sit well with me. I called the next day, and asked to come in again to have another doctor check him out. This doctor agreed that he sounded awful, and started him on antibiotics and upped his breathing treatments to every 4 hours. She said to come back in 2 days, sooner if I thought necessary. Well, the next morning, I just didn't think he was doing well, and got an appointment for that afternoon. The doctor agreed that he seemed to be having a hard time.  She then shocked me by telling me that an ambulance was going to be coming from Children's Mercy to pick us up! By the time they came, it was around 6:30pm, and Cole was exhausted and hungry. During the ride, they were suctioning him out and doing breathing treatments. He was handling it all well, and not crying, til just before we got there. By the time we got upstairs and checked in, and had x-rays done, it was almost 8pm, and the poor kid usually goes to bed around 7:00-7:30. He was struggling to keep his eyes open, and having a hard time breathing. They said they were going to start an I.V., and then he could go to sleep. Well, the nurses put the tourniquet on his arm, and prodded around for probably 20 minutes. They inserted the needle.... and missed. At that point I just knew that it was going to be a long, awful night. It ended up taking them almost 2 hours, and 5 tries to get the I.V. in correctly. It was probably the most horrible thing I have ever experienced. They were holding him down, digging that needle around, and Jonny and I took turns standing by his face trying to comfort him. He would just look up at me like, "this hurts, and why aren't you helping me?". I could cry just thinking about it! Once that was done, things were finally a little better. He got to rest and even slept through his breathing treatments. They kept him for about 24 hours, to monitor his oxygen levels and to administer medication and breathing treatments. They officially diagnosed him with asthma, as well as pneumonia. The combination of both had caused one lobe of his right lung to collapse. Needless to say, I am a little ticked at the doctor who sent him home and told us to, "wait it out". We ended up being discharged at around 5:00 pm on Christmas Eve. We had the option of staying one more night, but I am glad that we were able to make it home to spend Christmas together. The entire time in the hospital, and for several days after, anytime he was awake, he insisted on being held by mommy. And, whenever I held him, he wrapped himself around me like a little monkey. It was such an awful night, I hope it is the last one like that we have to experience!

Here's my little guy being transported from the doctor's office to the ambulance.

 Resting up after a long night.

Yay, I feel better!  Time to go home!