Just loving my day with the boys…and who can blame me? We head to Mayo on Monday, and that’ll be worries for Monday. For today, I’ll just enjoy what we have.
"Mom, will this be mine some day?"
A rare moment of stillness, and no one fighting!
George teasing EJ that he was going to beat him to the shop.
Well, he decided the reward wasn't worth it.
What happens when a 1200-pound-plus cow steps on its newborn calf? Well, lets just say that the calf isn’t usually a winner. But in this case, the vet was called in and so far, things are looking good.
He may be wearing a cast, but it's not slowing him down!
That’s right, we have a calf in a cast. He’ll keep the cast on until the first week of April or so…and while he has his cast on, he’ll be treated to a special pen in the yard, and will spend his nights next to his mother in the barn.
Broken legs don’t happen often on the farm, but when they do, it’s important to have them heal as best as they can, so the calf can walk normally and be able to stand and regain use of the limb. And so far, this little guy seems to be doing great.
Walking around, checking out his surroundings.
So what does it cost to have a cast put on a calf? Our vet bill was right at $200. Plus a little extra time for a few weeks.
And it was a great teaching moment for the boys.
And those moments are priceless.
Sunday was the annual 4H carnival at a near-by town. Scooter was tickled pink to be a part of it, and eventually Big Bro warmed up to the idea. Check out some of the great pics!
Why yes, yes it does!
Great cake for the cake walk!
Big Bro kept playing the cake walk game until this cake was gone. He was disappointed that it didn't come home with us.
Face painting, er, arm painting booth.
Scooter wanted to help out with the face painting, but he's only 8 and I didn't think he would do a very good job. Mom was wrong, and is proud to admit it. He made this flame, with oranges and yellows, and did an amazing job. He was so incredibly focused. Thank you, 4H!
This weekend was absolutely wonderful. The weather could not have been more perfect…well, maybe a little less windy yesterday, but it was still very nice. And with nice weather came a little boom in our calving.
When the weather is nice, though, it’s a little easier. The mud isn’t fun to mess with, but thanks to the wind, it’s been drying pretty nicely.
Here’s some of my shots from the weekend. And I’ll have more on Wednesday! Enjoy!
Hmmm...My calving instincts aren't always right on, but I'm thinking something here is telling me that she needs to head to the barn.
Just another beautiful bovine.
Our lilacs are trying to tell us that it's spring.
The cousins, in a race of epic proportions!
Mom, can't I just nap here?
Not so long ago, I wrote a post about how George seems to enjoy coloring himself from head to toe in markers. And I don’t mean just a little bit.
For Halloween, we'll be going as Smurfs.
After turning bath water several different shades of blue, green, black and orange the last few weeks, I was beginning to think that he had some strange sort of addiction to coloring on himself. (You know, like on that show where people say they HAVE to drink nail polish, eat chalk, etc.)
Well, I may have stumbled upon the answer…it’s genetic.
It appears as though 30-some years ago, this little blonde-haired beauty decided that she rather enjoyed coloring herself as well. Although, I like to think that I pulled off the look a little better.
Yep, he came by the habit honestly. Who would have thought this scene would be replayed 30 years later? Well, and on a little grander scale.
But that’s how it works, isn’t it? The next generation tries to find a way to do it bigger and better?
I’ve been up a lot the last few nights. We head to Mayo in a few weeks again. This time it’s for lots and lots of testing…developmental testing. George will be the big 3 in April, and that’s when he graduates from Infant Development into a school-district led program (if he qualifies and we decide to go down that route).
Guess who's going to be the big 3 in April?
So why am I a hypocrite? Trust me. I didn’t come to that conclusion easily. And it’s not something I enjoy admitting, but I think it’s true. You see…I’ve been so busy planning for George’s future, that I forgot to let him live today.
Let me explain.
George doesn’t handle illness well. He dehydrates quickly and goes down hill fast. You can ask our speech therapist who was here last week when he became sick. He went from fine and playing to physically ill and very little response in a matter of minutes. By the end of the week, we were in the hospital. The culprit? Strep.
You can't see me!
There I am!
Which is funny, because we had his tonsils and adenoids removed in August to try to help with limiting his strep infections. We’ve had 3 positive strep tests since. I shudder to think what it would have been like without the surgery though.
So, now what.
We need to start making decisions. Like, do we send him to preschool? Are we going to send him to school? Continue speech therapy in a school setting? And I became so wrapped up in planning out his future, that I forgot about today.
He’s a little boy, and little boys want to play, and get muddy and make a mess. They don’t worry about developmental scores, school choices and speech therapy. They want to play with the calves, tease the puppy and make their brothers miserable.
I spent so much time reading about what could happen, that I missed what was happening.
I can’t promise that I won’t spend any more late-nights with tears in my eyes as I watch George sleep. I can’t promise that I won’t go into overprotective mother-hen mode again. But I can promise that I’ll try to let go of my planning tendencies and embrace today for what it is…another day with my children.
No, I can’t forget what the statistics tell me, I can’t pretend that there are not times when George is truly in danger…but I can’t forget that a life without living is hardly a life at all.
I’ve read the statistics, but I forgot one thing…God hasn’t finished writing George’s story yet. And those are the only statistics that matter.
Is apparently through his…feet?
Just a few minutes ago, the mailman brought a package to the door that wouldn’t fit in the mailbox. I had an idea about what it was, so I asked EJ if he wanted to open it…
and I have the happiest boy on this side of the county.
EJ opened new boots in today's mail! And they're "tractor boots." How cool is that?
Yes, I splurged a little, but not too much. They were on sale through Zulilly (I l-o-v-e that site, by the way) and they are John Deere boots. I knew he would love them, but I didn’t know that they come with a little surprise…
Box for boots, and a BARN!
The box that the boots come in turns into a barn! How cool is that! I had to fold some pieces together, but it’s all one piece, and I have one little boy in heaven.
Checking to make sure there's enough room for his tractors.
Now, normally I would buy his boots from a thrift store, or off Craigslist, or something like that. It’s not that we can’t afford to buy brand new boots, but really, let’s be sensible. If their main purpose is going to be walking through mud, riding in tractors and traipsing through a barn full of….manure…would it make sense to buy them new?
I’m pretty sure the cows don’t care. And Iknow that EJ doesn’t. But these were a special surprise, and worth every dime, just to hear the squeals of joy.
The box is even printed on the inside. "Just like ours, Mom!"
In a world where demands and “I deserve”s are heard more than thank-you’s, hearing my not-so-little boy exclaim with appreciation and tell me that he’s so thankful for his new boots…well, that’s worth it’s weight in cowboy boots.
And, no…they won’t be allowed in the barn yet, but I imagine they’ll make their way there soon. 😉
Some more pictures from our fishing adventure…this week only Big Bro went with, but he had so much fun!
Big Bro loves fishing, but combine that with playing, and he was in heaven!
They made up games all afternoon.
I have to admit, sliding on the ice was one of my favorite things to do, too.
He was so shy about playing with other kids, but had a blast!
And a classic game of follow the leader...what a great day!
Today is Groundhog’s Day…and my hubby’s birthday. Apparently Pux-a-how-ever-you-spell-it Phil saw his shadow and we’re supposed to have six more weeks of winter. Well, it’s Feb. 2 and it’s almost 40 degrees here in North Dakota. If this is winter, then I’ll take six more weeks of it.
That being said, I just wrapped up a planning meeting for George’s future. He’s involved in the infant-development program, and as wonderful as the program is, he’s not going to be a toddle much longer. It’s amazing to see how much he’s grown in the last year…and I’m not sure I’m ready for our next steps, but they’re coming anyway.
So today I’m simply thankful for the simple things…like a game of peek-a-boo. Who wouldn’t be?
Peek...
...a-boo!
We have our next scheduled appointment set up for Mayo…it’ll be at the end of March. This is the longest we’ve gone without being to Mayo since October, 2009. A whopping six months between our last appointments.
That may not seem like a milestone to some, but it’s a miracle to me. I’ve gone from feeling like a frantic, over-reacting mother to feeling like a frantic, why-didn’t-I-push-sooner mother. There’s been a few moments of lucidity in between, but I’m not sure they should count.
George had more tests right after Christmas. And the wonderful news is that his thyroid function is back to normal! Yay! On this bumpy road that has become his life, I will admit that I would not have been surprised if something else would have come up amiss. It’s just the way it’s worked for us, but I’m more than happy to share the GREAT news!
After his appointment, I had to meet with the office where his medical food comes from…and it was interesting to say the least. George has packed on a few pounds, and although it’s not something I’m concerned about, apparently his stats aren’t the greatest. (His BMI is on the high side.)
She asked if I was concerned, and I tried not to laugh, really I did. What’s funny is that a year ago we finally got a clue as to what was wrong with George…a year ago we finally turned a page.
Prior to that, George looked like this:
George, summer 2009, just a few months old and at the start of this journey.
And this:
George, summer 2010. With his skinny little chicken arms, tiny legs and minus any fat.
At three months old, George was diagnosed with failure to thrive…and we could not figure out why. It took literally years of testing and throwing stuff at the wall to see what would stick. And now we have some solid footing, a plan and more importantly, we have weight…and happiness.
And I’m not messing with it.
Nope, I’m enjoying every roll, every chubby cheek, every ounce. I understand that his “medical food” is given to him through juice or applesauce, neither low in calories, but I have plenty of time to worry about diet changes once we have his diet down.
Because, for once in his life, George looks like his brothers:
A very Merry Christmas indeed!
His cheeks are filled out, his arms are strong, there is no longer skin sagging on his chest. He has a baby belly, his legs have rolls and he wears one size larger than his age. He plays by himself and with his brothers, he no longer has balance issues and he’s quick to laugh, hug and kiss.
And there isn’t a BMI statistic in the world that counts that in its measurement.
Wag'n Tales 