Cast Off!

It’s never easy waiting for something. It’s even more difficult when waiting for a stinky, dirty, heavy cast to come off your oldest child’s left arm. I don’t know who wanted the awful thing off more, me or Olivia. Well, today was the day to see if the nasty royal blue fiberglass cast would finally be removed. Olivia’s appointment was at 3:00. Approximately and hour and a half later, which felt more like a day and a half, we finally got the word.

The cast would be cut!

Cutting Off the Cast!

Ok, Olivia was probably happier than me to get it off. Before the nurse took the saw/vacuum contraption to Olivia’s arm, she was nice enough to explain that it’s not a real chain saw attached to a vacuum. Phew! However, I don’t think Olivia would have cared if the nurse used a hacksaw to rip the cast off her arm. This was just the first step.

Next came a crowbar type of tool.

I’ve got to hand it to Olivia, (no pun intended) she didn’t show any fear. No tears. No whining. If anything, she was fascinated watching the nurse go to work on her arm. I should also point out that this is the same child that takes great pleasure watching the sharp needle of a flu vaccine go into her arm.

And finally…….

a little snip, snip and……

goodbye cast!

It will take a little time before the wrist bones straighten out, but she’s just about fully recovered. The doctor says Olivia can go back to soccer right away, but recommended avoiding doing cartwheels or handstands for a couple of months.

As much as Olivia wanted the cast off, she wanted to keep it. So we brought the dirty, stinky, nasty fiberglass cast home with us. And yes, it smells, although not nearly as much as I thought it would. While I hope this is the last time any of my kids get a cast, I’m certain it’s the last time I’ll take a whiff of one.

School Pictures

There is something about school picture day that causes an odd mix of excitement, anticipation, and anxiety…… well at least for girls. I know I felt this way every year, and so far, my girls are reacting the same way I did.

Yesterday was picture day for Olivia & Erin, which I didn’t even realize until Monday night. Apparently there was plenty of talk about it in Olivia’s 3rd grade class. Olivia wanted me to braid her wet hair, so her hair would be wavy when she woke up the next morning. I explained to her that since she already has curly hair we didn’t need to do that. For good measure, I added that God made every kid different, and she should feel good that she doesn’t look like all her friends. She then gave me a weird look and said, “God didn’t make me look like this, you and Daddy did. I got his skin color and your curly hair.” Hmm. Smart kid. She understands the basics of genetics. We’re also not a very religious household, so she was probably surprised I even brought God into the conversation.

Even though I didn’t braid Olivia’s hair, I did break out the blow dryer for all the girls after their nighttime shower and baths. This is a pretty special treat for them. The next morning, Olivia decided to accessorize her look with a hot pink flower barette. Erin just wanted her hair combed and brushed. I love when Erin sports a ponytail, but despite my pleas, she shot that down. Since the kids wear uniforms, we didn’t have any clothing drama.

Looking back on some of my school photos, I wish I had a uniform.

In honor of this blog, I fired up the scanner to post some of the better ones.

1st Grade (I think)

Ok, ignore that the scan is crooked, but you can tell I was born in the 70′s. Remember the patterned turtlenecks? Mine happened to have red hearts, which works so well with the velour v-neck.

Kindergarten (I think)

You gotta love the ’70′s kid style with the matching high collared shirt and jumper. I’m pretty sure the photographer told me to bow my head, so like an obedient child, I did just that. Forget awkward family photos, how about awkward school photos?

I got the bling

This one is my personal favorite. Take a close look at the necklace. I’m stylin’ with some C3PO bling! I clearly remember being so proud of this necklace. I’m sure my mom was a bit horrified, but I give her props for letting me wear it around my neck.

I wonder what Olivia will think 30 years from now when she looks back at her early school photos.

Olivia's Kinder Picture

I hope she thinks she’s one cute kid because that’s exactly what I think.

Olivia's 1st Grade Picture

One thing is certain. She will not think she looks like her mom. I also don’t think she’ll have any color commentary about her wardrobe selection. Once again, thank goodness for school uniforms.

As much as styles may change, I’m willing to bet the school photo backgrounds will always stay the same. Notice how the background in my photos and Olivia’s photos look remarkably similar.

Now the excitement and anticipation begins to see how this year’s photos turned out. Good thing the photographer had good subjects.

 

The 3rd Child Gets the Shaft

She has far fewer photo albums and wears lots of hand me downs, and now her mom can barely remember to write a blog about her first day of preschool.

At least I remembered the camera

Yep, the third child really does get short-changed. It doesn’t matter that I’ve got an excuse for slacking on the first day of preschool blog. Last week, instead of working three days, I worked six. To say it was a busy news week would be an understatement, but I still felt immensely guilty for rushing out after drop-off.

I did however stay long enough to see that she looked happy as a clam in her classroom.

Happy to be Back at Preschool

What a difference a year makes. Last year, she had a major meltdown, almost prompting a call from the preschool director for me to pick her up. This year, she wouldn’t even give me a monkey hug. I had to settle for a quick peck on the lips. It definitely helps that she has the same fabulous teacher this year, and she knows almost all the kids in her class.

Is this a sign that she’s getting accustomed to getting less attention from her short-attention span mom? Probably. But I also know it’s a sign that she’s getting older and is happy to be returning to a familiar fun place to learn and play. Or at least that’s the story I’m sticking with to assuage my guilt ridden conscience.

 

I’m Officially a Soccer Mom

I don’t particularly like the term, “soccer mom,” but now that two out of three of my girls are getting their kicks on the soccer field, that’s what I am. As much as I may not like the label, I love that my kids are playing sports.

Plus, how can you not love a five-year old in a hot pink soccer uniform? While Erin may not have had a say in the color choice of her uniform, the stars and stripes soccer ball was all her doing.

Striking a Soccer Pose

Opening day was last Saturday, and for the next seven Saturdays if you want to find me, I’ll be sitting in my stadium chair cheering on the Pink Stars and Teal Seals.

Go Team!

I grew up playing softball, not soccer, so I’m not much of a soccer expert, but it’s ridiculously entertaining to watch a bunch of five-year olds running across a field trying to kick a goal. Erin is a polite player, not an aggressive one, so she’d rather let other players fight over the ball. We’ll see if that changes by the end of the year.

Since Olivia still has to sport a cast for a few more weeks, she can’t play, but she’s a team player so she supported them from the sidelines, wearing her oversized jersey and shorts.

As much as the kids like playing the game, I’m pretty sure they like the snacks as much, if not more than the actual game. We brought snacks for Olivia’s team, and you wouldn’t believe how much discussion there was about what to bring. Clearly they take after their parents when it comes to food.

I also hope they’ll take after their parents when it comes to a love of sports. I’m far from athletic, and even if the girls get my athletic genes, I hope they’ll develop a lifelong passion for exercise and sports. And as long as they’re playing, I’ll be cheering.

Lessons Learned from Tragedies

Working as a TV News producer, I talk to lots of people who have gone through horrible tragedies. These people graciously allow me and a photojournalist to come into their homes and talk about what usually is by far the worst day of their lives.  In the last few weeks, I have talked to family members who have lost loved ones in the 9/11 attacks, as well as survivors and first responders of the San Bruno explosion. When anniversaries come up, part of my job is to tell their stories so we not only honor the victims and survivors, but also learn from these truly awful tragedies.

Talking to these people, I learn from them more than they’ll ever know. They teach me about the power of inner strength, love, and kindness, which helped them heal at least a little bit. They are on my mind when I interview government leaders and regulators about the mistakes and missed opportunities that led to their lives being forever changed.

These people have important stories, stories I hope you’ll take the time to watch and learn from as well. Below are links to a couple of stories I produced on San Bruno.

http://www.nbcbayarea.com/news/local/Why_This_Family_Did_Not_Return_to_San_Bruno_Bay_Area-129343648.html

http://www.nbcbayarea.com/on-air/as-seen-on/San_Bruno_First_Responders_Had_No_Water_to_Fight_This_Bay_Area-129468128.html

As I’ve been working this week, the girls would hear me talk about San Bruno and 9/11, but for them, these two anniversaries meant Mom was working a lot more than she usually does. So when I came home from work last night, I had them watch a few of the San Bruno stories with me and Van. If they learned just a fraction of what I’ve learned from these amazing people, I’ve done my job as a parent and a journalist.

Broken Bones

With three kids, it was bound to happen eventually, and last night it did. Since Olivia’s the oldest, I guess it makes sense that she would be the first (and hopefully only) of our kids to break a bone, or bones in her case.

Minutes before family friends came over for dinner, Olivia ran into the house crying. She said she fell down running and her arm hurt. Bad. Admittedly, I was preoccupied so I took a quick glance at the injured arm, didn’t see any blood, gave her some ice, and sent her to back outside to play. She did so begrudgingly, and I went back to the task at hand: making margaritas. Yep, this will not be my proudest parental moment.

Our friends arrived and since Olivia didn’t really complain anymore about her arm, I didn’t think about it again until the end of the night, which was about four hours after she fell. By then, her wrist was swollen. Very swollen. Van and I debated whether to take her to the E.R. or not. I was leaning against it. It was late, we were tired, we had two extra kids over for a sleepover, and Olivia had gone for hours without saying anything about it. We were in a conundrum. I looked at Olivia’s face. She looked in pain. I looked at her wrist. It was swollen. Van and I decided it was better to be safe than sorry. In the end, we were sorry we didn’t go to the E.R. earlier.

Van took her while I stayed home. The first text I got from him was at 9:39 p.m. and it said, “Full house at the ER.” About an hour later, a nursing assistant took a look at Olivia and ordered some X-Rays. Uh-oh. It was right about then the Mom guilt set in. Van kept me updated with texts and photos of Olivia.

A Patient E.R. Patient at 10:54 p.m.

At 11:01 p.m., we got the diagnosis. Fractured both bones in her left wrist. Ouch!

It’s called a buckle fracture, which we’re told is pretty common, and usually heals up pretty well. We’ll learn more on Tuesday, when Olivia sees an orthopedist and gets a full cast.

As awful and guilt-ridden as I feel, I am one proud Momma for the way Olivia handled herself. She really didn’t cry, and Van said she only got upset when she found out she’ll have to stay on the sidelines for most of the soccer season. She’s already trying to decide what color cast to get, and I suspect is secretly looking forward to showing it off to her friends at school.