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*Crunch Crunch*

..."What?"

Bathtub Gnome

It's official.

Sprinkler weather has arrived!

Story Time

Lunchroom Pals!

Look who got to eat lunch at school with Eva and her friends! Sully was SO proud--he walked up to every person he passed in the hallway on the way to the school dining room, and he showed them his "lunchbox"...whether they wanted to see it or not. (As well as his Buzz Lightyear sunglasses.) (Which are, admittedly, "So cool!")

Time for an upgrade.

This year, for the kids' birthdays (both fall in the summer months), Mike and I are making them a big new sandpit in the back yard. We're excited to get to work on it this weekend...and really, we can't wait much longer than that, because Sully has so many toys piled into their current sandbox that there's no room left for either of the kids!

Tiny Metal Thing

By now, you've likely heard we had some drama in our lives last week...what say we add some details and pictures to really complete the story, eh?

It all started last Tuesday morning. You'll recall that Eva had lost her tooth the day before, and she woke Tuesday morning to find that the tooth fairy had indeed paid her a visit. In fact, the tooth fairy had been a little clumsy and spilled some of her fairy dust on the edge of Eva's bed and on the floor as she left a gold sparkly dollar coin for Eva to find. Naturally (because she's five, after all), Eva immediately began playing around, drawing pictures in (and collecting) the glittery stuff on her floor. She was in heaven!

Fast forward an hour or so, and in the car on the way to school Eva complained a little that her eyes wouldn't stop watering--they didn't hurt or itch, they just kept running and running. Mike and I came to the conclusion that she might have gotten a bit of fairy dust in her eye, or some regular outside dust, or the sun was really bright, or...you get the idea. So off she went to school, and I didn't think of it again until the phone rang that afternoon. It was Eva's teacher, wanting me to know that Eva's eyes wouldn't stop watering and would I like to come get Eva from school? After a little deliberating (and a short chat with Eva), we decided she'd stay at school (what Eva reeeeeeeally wanted), since it was almost the end of the day and her eyes weren't itchy or hurting her.

Eva's eyes watered off and on for the rest of the afternoon and evening and I was beginning to get nervous because I knew there were currently a few cases of pink eye in her classroom. So, when we got up the next morning and she was still tearing like crazy, I took her straight to urgent care. Her eyes weren't red or mattery or anything that usually goes along with pink eye, but I wanted to be sure we weren't passing it around unknowingly. I figured at most we'd leave with a prescription for eye drops and she'd spend the day at home with me and Sully. (Heh.)

Eva's eyes were so light sensitive at this point, she could hardly keep them open while the doctor tried to get a look. Seeing the confusion on the doctors face as she explained the differences between bacterial and viral infections and how Eva's symptoms didn't seem to fit either of them, I decided I'd better mention the fairy dust...and the doctor's eyes lit up. "I think we need to get you over to eye care," she said. "I think you have fairy dust in your eye!"

And so began a very long, worrisome period of waiting and wondering and eye-wiping as we were shuffled from one tiny room to another while various doctors and nurses took turns looking in Eva's eyes and whispering amongst themselves. Miraculously, every single person we encountered that day was a top-notch expert when it came to dealing with a nervous five (and a half!)-year-old. They told jokes, fetched crayons, offered juice, laughed at her jokes, and just genuinely seemed to enjoy Eva's company. I have no idea how we managed to be so lucky, but I am forever thankful to every person we dealt with, because things could have so easily been very, very scary for poor Eva...

It turned out she had not fairy dust, but a tiny piece of metal embedded in her eye--directly in front of her pupil. Right there in the middle of her vision. And so, while Eva sat there, happily coloring a picture and drinking juice and chatting with all of her new friends, I was silently freaking the hell out.

Apparently, this sort of thing happens all the time--To mechanics, for example. Big, grown-up mechanics.--and it's totally no big deal. They just numb the eyeball up, reach in there, and "flick it out." (!!!!!!!!!!!! dying inside as the doctor is explaining this to me.) (I do NOT do well with eyes and eye things.) (Really--ask Mike about the one time ever he had to put eye drops in my eyes.) (*shudder*) However, since Eva is only five, they didn't think it was at all fair to ask her to try to hold still while they reached in and flicked the metal OUT OF HER EYEBALL. (GAAAAHHHH!)

Soooo. The only other way to do it--aside from leaving it there until she grew up a little--was through general anesthesia. (Which, honestly, is probably the only way they'd get a tiny piece of metal out of MY eye as well.) Which is how we found ourselves scrambling around Wednesday afternoon, making arrangements for Sully, updating grandparents, filling pre-emptive prescriptions, and buying pre-emptive "Holy crap, you just had a tiny piece of metal removed from your eye after being completely knocked out" feel better soon gifts.

We shuffled Sully off to our friends Sarah and Ken (SO thankful for understanding friends), where he proceeded to have possibly the best five hours of his life--we're not sure he even realized we weren't around, he had so much fun (a relief for us). And Mike and I took our suddenly very nervous, but very very brave, daughter to the hospital.

And now, we'll begin the slide show...

Ms. Eva and her daddy, both being very brave in the waiting room.

My suddenly very small baby girl, wearing her "hospital outfit," and hugging the buddy she brought with her, as well as a new friend--given to her by the nurse she managed to charm during the 2 minutes they chatted while said nurse led us to Eva's room. (For real: we were SO fortunate that day. What wonderful people we met.)

I was allowed to accompany Eva to the surgery room (I'm pretty sure that's what they call it. But I'm not going to look it up.), as long as I wore a hat and a paper suit. Turns out the hat was also useful for cheering Eva up a bit. I didn't see what was so funny.

Eva got a hat too, and at this point the hat was extra hilarious--mostly because the sleepy-time "cocktail" they had given Eva to help her loosen up, before the actual gas mask thingy, was beginning to do its job. And how. Eva was hilarious--babbling in her own secret language, singing songs about the equipment in the room, doing hand-puppet theater--she had everyone in the room doubled over laughing! When the surgeon (whom she'd met earlier that day) arrived at her bedside, she cracked a gigantic grin and sang, "DOCTOR!" because she was so happy to see him.

Then things got real. I suited up (so pretty), and took a long, LONG walk with my daughter, simultaneously holding in worried-Mama tears and hysterical laughter as Eva tried tenaciously to roll over and out of her moving hospital bed so she could come back and walk with me. We finally reached the surgery room, and I held her hand ("MAMA!" she sang, as she realized for the tenth time that I was right there beside her) as she was fitted with the mask and drifted off. And then I bawled like crazy as a poor nurse led me back through the maze of hallways to Mike, because suddenly my baby just looked so small, lying there in her giant bed with her kitty while doctors and nurses and anesthesiologists buzzed around her.

And then we waited. A lot. And updated facebook (thank you, hospital wi-fi). Until our little buzzer beeped and we were allowed back to see our girl. We heard Eva before we saw her, and boy oh boy was she FURIOUS. SO mad. She was yelling and crying and screeching for someone to help her, which was heartbreaking, but also strangely comforting at the same time, because here was something I could do! After hours of feeling helpless, I could finally be the one to "fix it," and so I stood close, holding her hand and stroking her cheek, and soothing, soothing, soothing, as she drifted in and out of sleep, trying so hard to wake up for well over an hour.

Eventually, she was able to be roused enough to take a sip of water, which meant her IV could be removed from her hand, and we could begin preparing to take her home. (Also, it meant Eva scored a popsicle.)

Eva and I also scored a wheelchair ride (she in my lap) out to our car, and yet another best-nurse-ever helped her up into her seat in the car, popsicle and all. By this point, she had perked up quite a bit, and suddenly noticed that she didn't have a loose tooth anymore! We explained that the anesthesiologist had removed her tooth for her, so it wouldn't be in the way while she was sleeping. (We left out, however, that the thing it would have interfered with was the breathing tube they put down her throat while she was sleeping.) "You should have told me earlier!" she laughed. "That was a big surprise!"

After a quick stop to collect Sully, we all headed home...where Eva immediately settled into the couch and read a book, cover to cover.

That's when we knew she was going to be just fine.

(Eva's eye is healing nicely, and I'm almost adjusted to the fact that I have to drip nine different drops and squeeze gooey ointment into her eye during the course of each day--REALLY not good with eye things--while she claims she "LOVES eye drops!" Weirdo. Also, the Tooth Fairy was quite relieved to learn that it was indeed NOT her fairy dust that started all this trouble in the first place. Mike and I were relieved to find out that this whole thing shouldn't, in any way, affect her vision. Although, we'd really, really like to know where that tiny piece of metal came from, so we can keep this from happening ever again. Ever.)

Taking Vern out for a ride:

(PS: Eva lost her SECOND tooth yeseterday!! But she told me she wants to keep it forever instead of giving it to the tooth fairy...because it's the first tooth she's ever lost that she didn't swallow. I guess she takes after her sentimental mama!)

(Really) Lost Tooth!

Eva (yesterday, while eating a snack after school): Mama! I LOST A TOOTH!
Mama: You did?? Let me see! Where's the tooth?
Eva: ...I...don't know. I just feel a hole in my mouth!
Mama: Um...did you swallow it??
Eva: I think so....................I guess I'll have to write the tooth fairy a note.

Low Rider

(Riding his sister's trike, sitting on the top step--BEHIND the seat.) (Word.)