Georgetown

Last weekend we took the kids up into the mountains to an old mining town. Yo had found a deal on tickets for a train ride up there so we decided to make a day of it. I'm so glad that we did. The weather was beautiful. The air was so fresh and crisp. The kids loved being out in nature. And I was reminded of why so many people fall in love with Colorado and can't imagine living anywhere else. I'm hoping we can back a lot more excursions like this one before the weather gets cold. Because I'm going to need a wealth of love for this state to get me through February (and March, and April).

The boys getting excited about the train on their ride up:

Kai checking out the amazing scenery:

 Here comes the train!

A cute one of Pappa and Ari:

The picture on the right makes me laugh...

The water below this bridge was rushing by so swiftly and all I could is picture one of my kids (ok, just this one) falling in and being swept away. And me wondering how I would dive in after him pregnant and all. #momworries

Both kids loved just getting to be outside, climbing around, finding sticks and rocks, watching bugs. They were in heaven.

My sweet Kai seems so big recently. But I take solace in the fact that he still has cheeks for days and that I get to squeeze them and kiss them anytime I want.

Yo looking extra "Colorado" for the occasion:

Oh how I love my Ari:

A passer-by offered to take a picture of the four of us. I couldn't refuse. We have so few pics of the whole family. That is one thing I have to Colorado credit for.... the people here are generally so nice and considerate. It takes me back to my Mid-Western roots. (And is refreshing after living in California for so long.)

Kai has been a bundle of anxiety recently about things that never used to phase him. He was so excited about the train until we got closer and then he kept asking about whether it was going to be safe, how fast it was going to go, how high it was going to climb, if there was ice on the tracks. And then when we got to the train station and he saw water rushing below and the skinny bridge above with no safety rails to boot, we all but had to drag him on board. Afterward he thanked us for making him get on the train and said that now he knows it isn't scary. (Maybe this means that he'll forgive us for the Pirates of the Caribbean ride....some day.)

Yo splurged and got us fancy parlor seats. Ok, it wasn't fancy, but we got to ride inside an enclosed car with tables. And they served us a beverage and some snacks. We were highfalutin with the best of them. (Never mind the fact that we let our true colors show by sneaking extra snacks and stashing them away in our diaper bag for later.)

The boys living the good life. I'm a little obsessed with these two faces.

Here's a picture I took out the train window that gives you a better idea of just how quickly that water was a-rushing. I could give myself a panic attack just thinking about it. (In the end Yo and I talked it out and agreed that he simply would have to be the one to jump in after Ari. And that he would undoubtedly die in the process. It was a tough decision, but I we felt better once it had been made.)

Ari's front seat view. We wisely chose a table not located in front of a wide open window.

As luck would have it, it wasn't just any ol' day up in Georgetown--we happened to book our train ride during their "Mining Days" (festival?). I'm not sure what exactly to call it. All I know is that there were some seriously authentic mountain people up there and the kids got to eat free hot dogs, pan for gold, and pet some donkeys. It was good times.

The guy who taught us how to pan for gold was pretty intense. And obviously took his task seriously. Yo managed to pay attention and refrain from laughing (out loud). I was proud of him on both accounts. Turns out our teacher is one of very few professional gold miners who makes this is full-time job. I think he could have talked about his passion for panning all night long, so I tried to make a graceful exit by thanking him for his time and wishing him luck with his mining venture. He replied, "I don't need luck because I have know how."

Serious. Business.

Pappa and the kids putting their skills to the test. For all of Yo's mocking of the other dude later, he looks like he's pretty serious in this picture, doesn't he? ;)

Kai and Pappa were still going strong with their gold panning long after Ari had lost interest.

So I left them to their work, while I followed Ari around the mountain snapping pictures of his cute mug and trying to keep him away from the hazards that come with mining towns.... open mining shafts and donkey poop. Mostly not in that order.

When he started high jacking a mule, I decided it was time for us to mozy on back to the train station. 

It took a while...

We had a few minutes at the station to snap a couple more photos before we took a short train ride to finish the loop. Yo and I enjoyed a quiet ride home. Both boys slept the whole time. Turns out all that fresh air is not only good for the soul, but tiring too.

Preschool "graduation"

When you move in the middle of the school year, and you have a preschooler with high social needs, you're basically ready to enroll him in any licensed institution that is welling to take him off your hands 3 days a week. Which is basically how Kai ended up in a pre-k class this past January.

While I was a little worried at the time, putting him in this class has been one of the best decisions I've made since moving to Parker. Kai has made some amazing strides this year thanks to his awesome teachers and type A personality. So we are happily keeping him in the same program with the same teachers next year... while the rest of his peers go off to kindergarten.

Which means he is going to be ready to rock kindergarten by the time he finally goes. But it also means that it felt a little funny to attend his preschool graduation while we know that he will be attending the exact same ceremony next year. Ah well!  He looked cute in his hat and got a scrolled up piece of paper and we cheered just as loud as the next parents and ate twice as much celebratory chocolate cake. Overall it was a successful event and we couldn't be prouder of our pre-pre-kindergartner.

Baby News

It's out there on Facebook and Instagram, so I guess that makes it official. We are expecting baby #3.

These two cute brothers are going to be welcoming a baby SISTER into the family this fall!

I'm 16 weeks along and this has been a pregnancy quite unlike the other two so far. For one, I actually felt pretty crappy for the first 11 weeks. Is that what the rest of you have had to put up with? Ugh! Somehow I escaped the first two pregnancies pretty much sickness free. And, if I'm being honest, I have no right to complain even now. While I felt generally yucky for most of the first trimester, I never threw up... not even once. I just woke up feeling nauseous knowing that I needed to eat something and yet the idea of having to eat something made me nauseous. And once I ate something I generally felt nauseous because I ate something and then had a few minutes of feeling fine before the cycle started again. That, and I felt a serious energy crash in the afternoon... almost every afternoon. So I'd have the kids pile into bed with me and I'd let them watch cartoons while I counted down the minutes until Yo made it home from work.

Looking back, I'd say I was extra grumpy, too. But it's hard to isolate whether that grumpiness was rooted in hormones or the fact that the winter felt never ending for a stretch and I was feeling lonely and missing my friends and family (who almost all happen to live in warm weather places... salt in the wound).

But I'm happy to say that the weather has improved and my morning sickness has pretty much all but dissipated along with my grumpy mood.

Another first that I experienced with this baby was food cravings and food aversions. I went through a few weeks where I couldn't get enough cheez its. And then there was the week of hotdogs. (I never eat hotdogs.) But mostly some random will pop into my mind and I will obsess about it and feel like I will never be satisfied again until I get to eat what I'm craving. Just recently I've jumped on the avocado roll band wagon with some of my other pregnant friends. I feel like I could eat those every day of the week, 3 meals a day, if given the option.

As far as aversions go, these have been pretty inconsistent, too. But one thing I have not wanted in the least is Diet Coke. Of all things. So I've been drinking a lot more water, which is probably for the best, and slipping in the occasional caffeine free diet dr pepper or a diet cherry limeade from Sonic. And while I've never been a big candy eater, we always seem to have a stash of peanut m&m's in our house and where I used to find myself eating a fistful or two throughout the day pre-pregnancy, I have not had a single one since baby came along. Baby also doesn't like Chick-Fil-A, which is a shame because it's the one fast food chain I feel less guilty taking my kids to.

I wish that me dropping the above unhealthy habits meant this baby was making me a healthier eater in general, but I swear when hunger hits me, it hits me like a sledgehammer over the head. Which rarely leaves me the time it would take to prepare a healthy balanced meal (as if that's my strength anyway). Instead I find myself hovering in desperation over my fridge and scarfing down anything that doesn't look repulsive at the minute. If hunger hits me when I'm out and about I find myself hitting the closest drive through window--what other choice do I have? And the worst part about my voracious hunger is that an hour after I've eaten my weight in food, I'm starving again.

Because I've been feeling so different this pregnancy, the thought definitely crossed my mind early on that I might be expecting a girl this time around. But that inkling was pretty much dashed when I had an ultrasound at 11 weeks and pressured the sonographer into guessing and she said she it was too early to tell for sure, but she was pretty confident it was a boy. And truly, boy is what Yo and I were expecting all along after having 2 back-to-back. So I went home and told Yo and my mom and a handful of friends that we were having a boy.

Why mess with perfection, right?

Truthfully, I wasn't at all disappointed at the idea of having a 3rd boy. I was actually really excited. We had a name picked out, Finn (Kai, Ari and Finn.... it just works!). And I could already picture my life with 3 little boys all buddying around. We already have every boy thing under the sun and thought how fortunate it was that we were covered... very little preparation for #3 would need to be done.

We lived with the idea of little Finn (we even started referring to the baby as that) in our minds, until 3 weeks later when I had a follow-up ultrasound with a perinatologist at a little over 14 weeks. The peri's office has an ultra high def ultrasound machine that allows the doctor to check out mama and baby in greater detail than is possible at the regular ob's office. And apparently my peri prides himself in being able to identify babies' genders during the first trimester. True to his word, he got the perfect angle on our little one and absolutely shocked me when he announced, I'm 90% sure you are having a girl.

WHAT?!?!

So I left the appointment feeling bemused and trying to wrap my head around this news.

Yo was equally befuddled. The only one who seemed nonplussed was Kai who has been insisting that it's a little girl all along. (Is it just me, or do little kids have an uncanny ability to get these things right?)

Since then I've found myself watching little girls more intently at the park and at story time at the library and trying to imagine what a little Carly/Yo girl is going to look like and be like. This is totally unchartered territory for us.

I haven't bought anything for baby girl yet and probably won't until I go back for my 20 week ultrasound in a few weeks and have the unfathomable confirmed.... just in case Finn was playing a joke on us. But I find myself on pinterest looking at nursery ideas and I have a growing list of girl names stashed away on my phone.

You may be wondering, why the perinatologist and so many ultrasounds?

At my routine 8 wk check-up, two subchorionic hematomas were found during my ultrasound. This basically describes a condition where the gestational sac holding the baby separates from the uterus and blood vessels then bleed into the gap that is created between the two. Doctors don't really have an understanding of why this happens and depending on what study you read or who you talk to, an sch occurs in 1.5 - 25% of pregnancies. Super accurate info, right?

Most sch's are small. Mine happened to be large. And most resolve on their own within the first trimester. One happened to resolve, one happened to get significantly bigger. And the longer the SCH lasts and the larger it gets, the greater the risks which include all sorts of fun things like fetal growth restriction, premature rupture of membranes, placental abruption, spontaneous abortion, premature labor, placental previa, etc. etc. etc.

So I'm being monitored more closely by my ob and was referred to a peri for additional consultation.

Unfortunately doctors not only don't know what causes sch's, there is no consistent or proven method for treating them either. Some doctors prescribe bed rest, but this is largely going out of fashion based on recent studies that call to question bed rest's clinical benefits at best, and suggest that bed rest can have adverse side effects and increase the risk of negative outcomes at worst. The literature is confusing, but the doctors I have seen have told me that I should continue life as usual, but avoid overly exerting myself (heavy lifting, strenuous activities, etc., and by "etc." I mean they have been less than specific about what these restrictions entail).

Precautions aside, an sch creates a "watch and wait" situation. It may go away. It may not. It may cause complications for baby. It may not.

In the initial weeks after being diagnosed I obsessed, and stressed, and researched and obsessed and stressed some more. It was especially stressful because I felt like I had no one to talk to who could relate. We had only announced we were expecting to a few people and I didn't know how to unload this latest development on them and I found myself suddenly regretting sharing our news with anyone because I worried that we might not make it to the second trimester and I'd have to go back and tell everyone our unhappy news. It was stressful and lonely.

But I had a come to Jesus moment between weeks 8 and 11 where I poured my heart out to my Heavenly Father in prayer and suddenly appreciated that someone did know exactly what I was going through. Someone had felt my exact heartache and my exact worry.

And I realized that no matter the outcome, I was not bearing this burden alone. Peace came over me not in a wave of relief, but in the stillness of resignation. I don't mean that in a defeatist sort of way. Because rather than feeling defeated, I felt calm. My acute worry was replaced with a quiet acceptance that this pregnancy is in the Lord's hands and it will be ok.

My heart has broken many times over for friends who have suffered miscarriages or stillbirths or the loss of their little ones. I've always shuttered at the thought of something happening to one of my children. It's my ultimate fear and the thought of it stops my heart from beating.

But I have accepted for a long time now that "ok" does not necessarily mean that things turn out the way that we would like them to. So while I hope that the peace that I feel will carry me through to the birth of a healthy baby, I know that we are not in the clear. If the unimaginable happens it will define who I am for the rest of my life... but it will also be "ok."

Sometimes I wish the world didn't work this way, but I have seen in my life how God works miracles through our trials. And recently I have heard countless talks at church that speak to this idea. Last week someone taught that our trials are tailor made to our specific needs and are for own good. I have felt that so profoundly through this experience.

I have felt more humble, more prayerful, more empathetic to the trials others are going through, more reliant on the Lord, more appreciative of Heavenly Father's sacrifice of His own son, and profoundly more grateful for all of the blessings that I have in my life... especially for two easy pregnancies and the two healthy, happy boys that entered my life as a result.

Since that prayer, there have been moments where my symptoms have worsened that have led to bouts of worry, but my baseline outlook is pretty optimistic and I am taking this pregnancy one day at a time--more appreciative than ever for each day that I remain pregnant and each week that baby has to grow and get stronger and closer to being ready to live a life outside my womb.

Following that prayer, I also was struck with the impression that I should share my "news" with a few supportive friends. And that, too, has made a world of difference. Each encouraging word and expression of support has helped to bolster me up and made me realize how lucky I am to have such a wonderful support network.

These impressions and experiences have felt all the more poignant as they have coincided with the Easter season, a time when my thoughts are naturally more focused on my loving Savior's sacrifice and the significance of His miraculous resurrection.

The Lord's suffering, sacrifice, and promises have taken on a more personal meaning this year. And for that I will be forever grateful.

Happy Easter!

Agree to disagree

Every general conference I wonder if and how the topic of same sex marriage will be broached. Yesterday Elder Andersen reconfirmed the church's stance that marriage is between a man and woman and confronted members who have publicly supported any other definition of marriage, via facebook, etc., head-on. I am one such individual.

Some postings I've seen on-line have challenged anybody who is LDS to continue to support the legalization of gay marriage in light of Elder Andersen's comments. So I am taking that challenge and sharing some specific reasons why I support the legalization of same sex marriage...

1. Separation of state and religion - As an active member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, I strive to adhere both to the laws of the land and to laws of Heavenly Father. But I would never want to live in a country where His laws became the laws of the land. Imagine a Mormon version of the Taliban giving elected officials the power to enforce their interpretations of God's law. And imagine the room for oppression, let alone abuse, that this would create. Our agency is essential to God's plan, as is our ability to worship according to the dictates of our own conscience. This country was founded on principles of religious freedom, which are protected by a legal separation between church and state. Therefore, I do not believe that we should legislate our morals, per se, but that a separate standard should be applied to the laws of the land.

What is that standard?

2. . What is good for society - Because of the necessary separation between state and religion, there needs to be a separate standard for the laws that govern society than those that govern our church membership. Individual freedom should be respected and protected by the laws of the land as much as possible. Marriage has long been recognized by our society as a positive, stabilizing force. It is good for the economy. It is good for our communities. Therefore, it is worth incentivizing through tax breaks and other laws that reward people who participate in long-term, committed, relationships. So why wouldn't long-term, stable, committed, relationships between same sex couples be preferable to short-term, unstable, non-committed relationships (if that is the alternative)? While some laws promote societal goods, others prevent societal harms. So the question becomes whether allowing same sex marriage would be so harmful to society that it should be prevented by law.

3. Same sex marriage does not threaten traditional marriage or to society at large - I have heard people talk about SSM as if it poses the single greatest threat to the institution of marriage and society as a whole. Can anyone really make this argument sufficiently to justify denying two consenting, adults the right to marry each other--something I consider a fundamental and very personal right? Let's be honest, if we want to outlaw behaviors that threaten traditional marriage, then we should criminalize adultery, pornography, intimacy outside of marriage, dishonesty, the devaluation of marriage in media, living outside of one's fiscal means. Heck, we should outlaw divorce itself. But of course, this is not a practical (or advisable) course of action. The church seems to accept that it is not the role of law to prevent such behaviors, but rather encourages people's elective adherence to a higher law. The values that we are encouraged to cultivate in ourselves, our homes and our families include self-government, loyalty, fidelity, integrity, purity, chastity, selflessness, forgiveness, sacrifice, and provident living. And these values help to counterbalance the societal ills listed above and many others which threaten marriages. Our religion also teaches that marriage should be between a man and a woman. This is precisely the role that religion should play, but not a definition that the government should enforce.

4. Same sex marriage does not decrease the value of heterosexual marriage - A lot of people get caught up on the sanctity of the word "marriage". And they have every right to ascribe whatever value they want to the word. But it does not change how God sees or values secular unions. So, if you believe that God only intended for marriage to be between a man and a woman, kudos. If you are right, then I am sure that regardless of whether you call marriage, "marriage" or a "civil union" or  "(insert nonsensical made-up word here)", God will hold the sacred union between a man and a woman in a different esteem than a same sex union anyway. In fact, as Mormons, we don't hold all heterosexual unions in the same esteem. We believe that the only bond that cannot be broken by death is a sealing of a man to a woman in our temple. And there is a high standard of worthiness set for these temple sealings that bars the vast heterosexual population from participating. So if we as LDS believe that not all marriages are created equal, why not just be satisfied to personally believe (if that is your belief) that a homosexual union is even "less equal" than other non-temple marriages?

5. Legalizing gay marriage will not make people gay - people are not more likely or less likely to be gay based on whether gay marriage is legal. But maybe an adolescent who is gay is less likely to commit suicide if he/she lives in a society that does not openly discriminate against gays.

6. Compassion - It has taken a long time, but in recent years leaders in the church have finally acknowledged that same sex attraction is something that people are born with and not a a choice. Therefore, people with ssa cannot be reprogrammed (a practice the church once espoused) and the church has cautioned those with ssa against entering into marriages with members of the opposite sex because of the complications that tend to arise in such unions. So what option does this leave them? I love that our church holds family and family relationships in such high esteem. There is no better teaching ground to learn the unconditional nature of Christ-like love than in the home. There is no greater source of joy than sharing precious familial bonds--in choosing to love someone and to stick by that person and to accept that person with all their flaws and to have them stand by you and accept you, too. I cannot imagine being taught my whole life that this is the plan of happiness, but that I am not allowed to fully partake in that plan. That by the very nature of who I am and how I was created by my loving Heavenly Father, that that plan, His plan, is not for me. This is simply something that my brain has not been able to reconcile. I will be the first to admit that I do not know God's will. And that I cannot change it. But at the same time, as a mother, I know exactly how I would feel if one of my children came to me and told me that they were gay. I would love them unconditionally. I would support them and want for them the things in life that will bring them fulfillment and happiness. And I would absolutely support their desire to find a spouse and to have a family of their own if that's what they wanted. But the point is, as their mother, it would not matter in the slightest to me. And I want and need them to know that. I look at my children and see two perfect little people who were created just as God intended them. And it is not my job to change them, but love them and instruct them and to teach them to be good and to love others. That is the way that I feel Heavenly Father must love me. As flawed as I am. I go to Him and I feel that I'm just as He intended me to be.

7. The dictates of my conscience - It is not always comfortable being a minority among Mormons. I just moved to a place where the church is way more homogenous than it is in the Bay Area where we came from and I find myself biting my tongue quite often when people in church make blanket political or social statements assuming that everyone in the room is, obviously, of the same opinion. I love the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. I love that it helps me to understand the nature of my Heavenly Father and to grow closer to my Savior. I love that it promotes Christlike attributes and gives a profoundly deeper meaning to my life. I love that it provides a foundation for my marriage, my relationship with my children, and many invaluable friendships. But our church and its leaders are not infallible. And while I choose to respect the moral council of the church leadership, I exercise my right to my own political opinions. History has proven that the church sometimes gets it wrong. I would hope that if I lived in or before the 60's I would have found racial segregation and laws prohibiting interracial marriage and the church's practice of banning blacks from the priesthood just as morally reprehensible as denying homosexuals from being able to marry and raise families and enjoy those same things that make my life most meaningful.

The purpose of this post is not incite or offend. I know that many people who read this will not agree with me. But that is ok (we've been here before, eh?). But these are just thoughts that have been weighing heavily on my mind that I felt I needed to air... and own. To others that agree with me: have courage. To those who don't, I hope that you can see that my views are not arrived upon lightly and that while for many of you religion trumps all so no matter what my justifications I am in the wrong, I ask you to at least have tolerance for those that disagree with you and don't be afraid to seek to understand where they are coming from.

An Epic Christmas

I could've sworn I wrote a Christmas post back in December (maybe January). But lo and behold, I went to the blog today and realized that I have posted only once since we moved to Colorado in November. Shameful.

So you'll have to indulge me in posting this so long after the fact. It was a bit of an epic Christmas and I feel like it needs to be documented...for posterity's sake.

Winter may not be my thing, but even a Florida/California girl can appreciate a white Christmas. So that was one thing that set our first Christmas in Colorado apart. My parents also came out to celebrate with us which was such a treat. Having family in our home really made it feel like our home. And my parents are kind of just the best. 

On Christmas Eve things got a little interesting when our double ovens both went out with a (literal) bang. The joys of homeownership. 

                                             

Luckily my ingenious mom saved dinner by pulling some MacGyver moves in the kitchen. She managed to cook most of our traditional dishes using the stove top, crockpot, and toaster oven.

Christmas Day was so fun. Both of the kids were really into opening their presents and seemed genuinely pleased with what they got.

But the real story of Christmas Day was this:

The kids had finished opening all of the presents under the tree when we told them that their aunt had a special surprise in store for them downstairs. This monstrosity...

Game over.

The kids forgot about every other present that they got that day. And for a good 10 minutes, we were all in pure Christmas bliss watching with glee as the littles took turns flying across the basement floor in their little green car and coming to a comically abrupt stop when they'd crash into the love sac that we used to keep them from crashing through the basement wall instead.

But excitement got the best of the boys and we all watched in horror as Kai went sailing down the ramp on the car while Ari was scurrying up it. They intersected at just about the same spot that Ari is pictured in above. And, consequently, his body was turned just about the same angle, but in the opposite direction. So when the car hit him, his right forearm took the brunt of it.

He immediately began crying, which would be expected. But when he didn't quickly stop crying, I began to suspect that something was really wrong. Ari is my tough guy. Usually all it takes is a binky and a hug and he is back to good. Not this time.

So I carefully took off his pjs to see if he had noticeable bruising or anything to that effect. That's when I noticed that there was a slight indentation in his arm. And my mom immediately asked, "Do you think it's broken."

All the while I was obviously hoping that this was not the case, but based on his continued crying and that strange looking indentation, Yo and I decided to take him to the ER to get it checked out just in case.

With a bag of frozen peas to keep down the swelling and a makeshift sling to keep his arm immobile, Ari rode to the hospital sitting in my lap. He cried off and on on the way to the hospital, but by the time we got into the emergency room he had stopped crying, but was definitely not his usual, spirited self.

The good thing about being in the ER on Christmas day is that it is pretty empty. So Ari was seen pretty quickly and got a lot of attention from the nurses and doctors who were working that day. But it still felt like it took forever before a doctor came into examine him.... such is the nature of ERs.

When he was finally examined the doctor applied increasing amounts of pressure up and down Ari's arm. The child did not wince, flinch, or let out a single peep. So I began to doubt that he had broken his arm after all. The doctor had his doubts too, but sent him for x-rays just to be sure.  

We had to wait for the doctor's official interpretation of the images, but it was pretty clear to everyone in the room that he had broken, not just one, but both of the bones in his forearm. The news went from bad to worse, when the doctor discussed the results with us and said that because the bone was displaced by about 30 degrees on one of the breaks, that he would need to consult with an orthopedist to determine if the bone would need to be set before it could be splinted or put in a cast. 

It being Christmas, there was only one pediatric ortho on call and he was covering no less than 5 hospitals in the greater Denver area. So it took a long time before that doctor was able to respond to the page and to review the xrays. When he finally got back to our ER doctor, he confirmed that the bone would need to be set, which meant that we needed to wait for him to make it to our hospital to set it. Through all that waiting Ari was such a trooper. We hadn't been able to offer him any food or water since the time we had set foot into the examination room 4.5 hours earlier, just in case he would need anesthesia. So we did our best to entertain him with books and movies while keeping him calm and his arm immobile. Poor baby finally fell asleep 5 minutes before the ortho arrived and we had to whisk him off to an operating room where his bone would be set and a cast would be put on. 

This, by far, was the hardest part of the day. We were assured that the anesthesia that they gave Ari would not put him into a deep sleep so that it was low risk. But that it would keep him from feeling pain and also keep him from having any memory of the bone being set. So we sat with Ari as they put in an IV and gave him the anesthesia. When his eyes started rolling back, they asked us to leave the room and wait in the hall. It was not fun leaving our little baby in that room by himself. A minute or so later we heard Ari cry out and suddenly a number of nurses ran past us and into the room, the door that had been open was quickly closed and Yo and I were left out in the hall a little horrified. His crying shortly stopped, but we wondered and continue to wonder how much he felt and if he remembers whatever it was that made him cry out. 

A few minutes later we were allowed back in the room to be with Ari as he woke up.

By the time we got home it was late in the afternoon. It's definitely not how we envisioned spending Christmas, but it could have been so much worse. I really don't know what we would have done if my parents hadn't been in town. While we were at the hospital, they were watching Kai, picking up the Christmas mess, and making dinner.

After a much needed nap, Ari was up and back to his normal self. It was amazing to see how fast he adapted to life in a cast. Here he is eating Christmas dinner with his left hand.

As for Kai, he ate dinner wearing his super cool shark helmet (thanks, Tia!).

I think it's safe to say that we will never forget our first Christmas in Parker.