HOLY crap!  I can't believe we are now the parents of a preschooler.    Little Olivia was just a tiny 7.7 lbs and now she's got her "running shoes" on, a back pack, and all kinds of sparkly adventure in her eyes!   

The night before school, I held her.  I sat in her room, crying, holding, and telling her stories of when she was so tiny.  Of course, this made me really cry. She asked me why I was so sad.  I attempted to explain "happy tears".   Not sure if she can wrap her little mind around it but she settled for my explanation.   Rob came in to check on us after my long, extremely drawn out bedtime routine.   He didn't seem too bothered by her heading to school the next day but how could he be?  He has not been at home with her since 6.1.2009.  For the first time, ever, I really felt like I was abandoning her.  We have been very lucky to have such amazing people; G'ma/G'pa Flanary and two awesome neighborhood girls who love our kids as much as we do taking care of them when we are on the go.   So, for me, this was a HUGE adjustment.  While it was 100% me pushing Olivia into preschool, I was the one who was terrified and nervous.  

The morning of, we flitted in and out of many rooms getting bathed, dressed, and polished.  I tend to have this crabby side that comes out when I am feeling pressure. I am sure it is normal but by the time everything is done and we are walking out of the door everyone seems a little on edge because of my mood.  Don't judge - I am working on it.   I do know my own faults and tried very hard to stay calm that day for Olivia.  I didn't want her feeling any pressure.  I wanted this to be extremely exciting and fun.  So, I kept my cool and rolled with it.  Things worked out just fine, as the tend to do...... 

I left Grant at home with Grandma and took my little beauty to school.  It was pretty surreal.  I glanced back at her about a thousand times and watched her fidget with her  pretty new bracelets through the rearview mirror.   I asked her a couple of times how she was feeling.  She didn't say anything about it just asked me to turn the "muzegick" up.  PERFECT TIMING - our favorite dance party song was on!    Maybe you've heard it - Call Me Maybe by Carly Rae Jepsen.   Olivia and I wiggled, giggled and laughed the entire 3 minutes 20 seconds.  

When we arrived at school, she jumped out of the car and followed lots of other kids into the building.  She was very excited to see the busses.   We walked in and she reached up for my hand.  Her tiny soft fingers wrapped around my pointer finger was such an amazing feeling.  Power of touch is real people.      This little independent girl, who I've been wishing off to school really, really needed me.  I started to tear up.  To prolong the process, I took her to the bathroom.  She said she didn't need to go but I insisted and left her to play in the sink for a bit.  Once the roar of voices filled the halls I figured it was time to head to class.   We held hands again down the hall and filled out her name tag.  What a big girl - she wrote it all by herself!   I got pretty nervous as another mom ran out of a nearby class and flew by us.  I wasn't sure what the deal was but then I heard her son fall to the floor and beg for his mom to come back.  The sounds of that little boy still echo in my head.  I was SO TERRIFIED that Olivia would be distracted and feel like I was leaving her too.   SO, I tried to focus and reminded her that we'd be back at lunch to pick her up.  She was like, "okay, okay, use your inside voice!"   Well, slap in the face - I got it.  My kid is cool with this and I am the one pulling her back.    I walked her up to the teacher, gave her the immunization records while Olivia headed right into the class.  There was an instant barrier between us.  I was in the hall, she was in class and Mrs. Boden was between us asking her to go in and me to exit the building.  I looked at Olivia and she was pale.  She was playing with her fingers again, looking pretty worried.  I waved her in and said things would be okay.  She looked at the class then back at me.  My heart dropped.  I was feeling overwhelmed, choked up, and wanted to sweep her up into my arms to take her home.   I didn't  - but -  I did call her out to the hall and planted a huge kiss on her cheek.  I told her I loved her sooooo much and I'd see her at lunch.   She headed back in to the class and stared at me.  I waved her in once more and walked away.  
Instantly, I started balling.  I felt so sick to my stomach - like nothing I have ever felt before.   I got to the car and imagined her face as she turned back to see me but I would have vanished.  What would she think?  How would she feel?  I had to call Rob  and cried to him.   

When I got home, I saw my mom and Grant.  I lost it again.  I cried and my mom said, "I knew you would!".....  Yeah - "So did I!"    
The hours passed and before I knew it I had a call from Olivia.  Grandma picked her up and took her to lunch.  On the phone Olivia announced, "I didn't have any fun."  I asked her if she'd go back on Thursday and she said, "NO, I didn't have any fun."  I asked her why not.  Her reply, "I had to stop playing".  At orientation, the teacher said she'd ring a bell when it was time for the kids to stop playing and they'd have to put their hands up in the air sans toys.  This would give them the reminder of their next activity.  I assume this is what she was getting at.   Anyway, my mom took the phone back and explained that Olivia was the classroom helper that day and the teacher really enjoyed having her in class.  Olivia seems to be pulling my leg a bit..... 

Thursday she went to class, totally fine.  Today class was "SUPER FUN, mama".... It seems like things are working out just fine for all of us!  :) 

Here are just a few images from the day - click to enlarge.  I still can't believe she is a preschooler!

Who can resist such a cutie patootie in a pig hat and leg warmers?  Gotta love this spunky gal!  

Never in a thousand years would I have expected a year and a month to go by with out a blog post.  I am finding a little truth to "time flies when you're having fun". 
We've been through a hell of a lot over the last 390+ days.   I will share more soon, but here are a few memorable ones: 

Grants baptism (8/2011)
This was not the most traditional service - we were outside with some pretty entertaining rap music.  I think the look on my brother in law and step dad's faces were priceless!   As the story goes - Grant was baptized by the Wu-Tang Clan.  We aren't all that traditional, so we are pleased with the memories!  : ) 

Grant's 7 ear infections between 11/2011 and 3/2012.   What a nightmare.   Rob and I were so frustrated with Grant, each other and all the reasons Grant was not a "normal" baby.  He kept us awake for months.  Cried every time we sat him on the floor to play.   I literally threw my arms up and screamed as loud as I could one day... Poor Olivia caught me in the act and was so teary eyed begging me to tell her what was wrong. Without thinking I said I saw a spider and she returned to being a happy little girl in a nanosecond.    I felt, at that very moment, I done.  I was crabby, emotional, and incredibly transparent.  Never should my little lady, especially at two, feeling like the strong one.  Rob and I took turns bringing our lad to the Dr. finally after the 6th infection, we were referred to an ENT.     We all agreed tubes were a "must-have".  We scheduled the surgery for March 6th, 2012 and thought life would get back to normal.  

Naturally, I had a run of bad luck and found myself in an incredibly hard situation on March 3rd.     I got into the van and thought it was pretty chilly.  I hate steering a leather wheel when it is cold.  I tend to stretch out my sleeves to brace my bare hands from the cold.  This morning was different, I remember jumping out of the car and grabbing  a pair of gloves from the garage.  Then Olivia and I were off.    We pulled up to the post office.  I had a notification to pick up a certified letter.    I pulled into a stall, just a few from the front door.  Got out and walked around the backside of the van to retrieve my shivering little girl.   We hopped out and strutted to the entrance, only to realize they were closed for another 1/2 hour.   I hate when this happens... gotta find something else to do for a while, potentially forgetting to head back when that was the only thing I really needed to do - or - sit and wait with an impatient little lady in the almost warm car......   At that moment, a postal worker came to the door, probably after reading my mind, and let me in.  He was very kind and delivered my mail.   I walked out feeling like I won the jackpot.   I clicked open the doors, threw my gal in and walked behind the van and, "SHIT!"  My feet lost control as I was walking on a icy snow covered spot.   My legs when straight in front me and my left arm out to brace the fall.  Well, it didn't.  The first thing I realized after I came to was that my arm felt like 10,000 pounds.  I could not lift it nor really feel it. Something was definitely wrong.  I started screaming, crying, shivering, felt like I was going to throw up.   Then, I realized Olivia was in the car.  I looked up, "the van is still here - good!"  I wish someone had filmed it because all I recall was crawling around the back tire around to the passenger side of the van to see my happy little girl staring down at me.  Instantly she knew there was a serious issue.  She started yelling at me. "Mama, are you okay?  You need a band aid? I am here, it is going to be okay."   I still had no clue what was wrong with me but I had hoped there was no blood.  I somehow reached up to the door handle for the front seat and with one hand pulled myself into the van.   I rested on the running boards thinking, screaming and fearful.    I realized this pain was getting more and more intense as the moments passed.   I wanted to call 911 but wasn't sure what the paramedics would do with Olivia.  (I later realized it would have been fine - but I panicked.)   So, I called Rob.  I have no idea what I said to him, just recall him asking "Where is Olivia?  Is she okay?  Were you in an accident?"  Then, he was there, at the post office.  He transfered Grant into the van and shoved me into my seat.  I was moaning so hard and loud the entire time.   We drove to the ER (which was only about 10 blocks) and he dropped me off.  I do remember him asking me, "should I come in?"  I just yelled at him to drop me off, and he did just that - good man.   I ran into the place balling, asking for help.   A lady embraced me and I cried even harder.   We sat and she rattled off her initial questions.  I just kept telling her, "something is wrong,  I can't lift my arm.  I slipped on the ice.  Please help, I don't know why I am crying."

She reached down for my dangling arm to pull off the glove.  In that moment, I looked up and over my shoulder.  Rob was there!  He came back for me!   He was holding Grant in his arms and looked down at my gloveless hand.  I watched his concerned face turn into a horrified panicked look and then he turned as if he couldn't look anymore.  I looked down.  There it was.  A BIG BONE STICKING OUT OF MY ARM.   It hadn't broken the skin, but it was very clear that my arm was fucked up.  (pardon the language.)

They the took me into a room, I saw a doctor who needed an x-ray.  What the hell for?  It was absolutely broken!    I appeased them and agreed.  When I met my tech, she happily announced I was one of many that morning who had come in with fractures.  She said, "so far we are three for three!"  GREAT.  

My mom arrived at the hospital to take over grandma duty.  Rob stayed with me as they wrapped my arm.   I did get some decent pain medication and they attempted to stabilize bones and things.    After a while, I realized the meds were fading and I asked for more.  The nurse gave me another round and Rob went to fill the RX.  

By this time it was about 9:30 and I was free to go.  WTH!   I told the nurse and my husband that I wasn't feeling well.  They told me I was fine and should go home.  I pleaded with them to let me stay - to no avail.   I sat up and felt worse.  I stood up and threw up.  I wanted to yell (maybe I actually did),  "I TOLD YOU!"  I was then given a little extra TLC - warm blanket tucked into a low-lit room with soft sounds of chaos all around me.  I dozed off.  It was heavenly.    

When I woke, I was so shocked.  It actually was true.  My arm felt horrible.  My body felt horrible. It was so surreal.    We made it home and for the next two days I cried.  
Monday I saw the orthopedic surgeon.  What a stud!  I swear everyone in his office was good looking.  I wished I had pulled myself together a bit and threw on a little blush.     They took x-rays.  Yep - still broken.  I picked out a hot pink cast color, for my inner diva!    Dr. Hottie came in and joked with me a bit.  I felt better.   He turned my arm a few different ways and said, "you're going to need surgery."  I was like, Hell NO!  "Do what you need to do so that doesn't happen."  He was shocked.  I told him I had a little boy going in for tubes, I have daycare kids to tend to and 27 weddings coming up.  Surgery is out of the question.   He said the only alternative was to reset my arm and hope that in one week things look better.   I agreed.  This went on for three consecutive weeks.  In the office, cut the cast off, new x-ray, reset (HOLY HELL, this hurts!).  Finally week 4, good news.  The x-ray showed the bone was lined up.   It dawned on me that I would no longer be getting a new cast this week.  I'd have to wear the sweaty gross one for a while.  4 weeks, to be exact.   Every morning, Rob wrapped my arm with a garbage bag with a band of duct tape to waterproof.   Everyday, I changed my walrus of a kid with one arm and two legs pinning him to the ground.  Everyday I cried, Everyday I hurt.  

April 16th, 2012  I had my follow-up.  X-ray, cut off the cast, my gosh!  I can actually see my arm!!!!!!  It was the most amazing and painful thing to wash it.  My skin was hyper sensitive.  They encouraged me not to "scrub".    Dr. Hot-stuff came into see me.  Said it all worked out and he was a little upset with me for not taking it easy.  I didn't understand how he knew I was shooting engagement sessions, lifting my kids, shoveling snow, etc.   It was clear to him because "most" patients have a significant amount of muscle loss in their hand/arm.  I did not.   I wasn't going to let this slow me down, too much.    He reminded me that I was only supposed to lift a cup of coffee, or weight equivalent.   We'll, MR.   My life is pretty chaotic and that wasn't realistic.  I tend to have this idea that I am unstoppable.  I don't like, "you can't".     I should have thought a little more carefully - I don't get much empathy around the house these days.  : ) 


Back to Grant... 
On March 6th, we took our little man in for the surgery.   We got him dressed, he was SO LITTLE in all the gear we had to put on him.   I had trust in the doctors until we had to wait in the waiting room.  Rob did take the opportunity to bring him into the O.R. and when joined me in the waiting room he told me I wouldn't have been able to handle it.  They forced anesthesia onto Grant until he was out.  Rob was slightly horrified that he even had to witness such a struggle.    So we waited.  It was over in like 10 minutes, literally.   Grant was back in our arms in under a half hour.  He came out a little groggy but already we could tell a difference.  He was alert, happy and hungry - big shock.
To this day, he still has the tubes in place and we are thankful!

Grant's hair has changed so much since he was born.  He was full of dark hair then it turned lighter and lighter after about 6 months.  I have given him a 5-6 trims along the way, but as you can see I had a horrible experience! The worst one (as seen above) I now no longer have any desire to cut it.  I tried to keep it short like the All-American boys do but his hair grows SOOOOO fast and is SOOOOOO thick.   This comes as a shock, since our little lady was a baldy until nearly one.   I often joke that she looked like uncle fester for a year!   Even now, her hair is fine, whispy and stick straight.  She is pretty jealous that everyone else gets their hair cut and she hasn't in her three years.

In February he started walking. Yes, folks 9 months!   

We also found out that he is predesigned for sports.  This kid LOVES just about anything that bounces, or looks like a baseball bat.  He is self taught and started throwing up round things and swinging.  Turning everything into a bat these days.    But, more of that info to come!

I'll get to Olivia in my next post - But I thought I'd share this image of her and Bella, her long-time best friend.