Save the Gonads.

The reasons for the kiddo to have x-rays taken in his pelvic reaction are as serious as a heart attack--both hips subloxed 60+%.

But pardon me if I giggle at the "manhood shield" they use. The x-ray techs use it every time. I giggle every time. I hope they didn't notice me snapping this photo--how sophomoric of me!

"Bowling Alley" is not a girl named Ally who bowls--and other things the children learned yesterday

The kids and I took a field trip to the bowling ally yesterday. It was a great opportunity to give the twins some frame of reference, since their only experience with bowling thus far has been courtesy of the Wii Sports game. But it was Jenna's second time in the lanes and not only did she have a blast, she was such a big help with the twins.

Yes, the twins bowled. Is there anyone left who doesn't know that kids in wheelchairs can bowl? Not after these photos.

If you don't eat your dinner, then...

...you can't go out for a walk with us.  That's right--I am my family's neighborhood park Nazi.  You won't finish your Mickey Mouse chicken nuggets?  THEN NO PARK FOR YOU.

The heat hasn't been much of a factor, because we go just before sunset.  Last night I brought only the oldest and the youngest, while the middle child stayed home with Dad to think long and hard about what happens when you don't eat your "processed we assume it's chicken but we don't really know for sure but hey it's compressed into the shape of a lovable cartoon character" dinner.

I love those two close-ups up of Kyle and Jenna, a couple photos above. With the photo of Jenna at the picnic table, it's a rare snapped shot of how she really looks on any given day--plus, I spy a tiny bit of my mom in her face. And with the photo of Kyle, well, I am always a fan of a head shot of my boy.

Thumbs Up for the G-Tube

With my first child, I would swell with pride when she would eat her grilled salmon and asparagus and brown rice without complaint and know that she was developing healthy eating habits. With Kyle? I swell with pride that we were smart and strong enough to finally agree to a g-tube so that he can reap the benefits of proper nutrition and grow up to be the big, strong boy he is genetically pre-disposed to be. (yeah, I don't like ending a sentence with a preposition, either. How else can I structure that sentence, though? Can't come up with anything which retains my original sentiment.)

The fasting on the day of g-tube surgery--and the 24 hours post-op--were tough, I'll tell you that. This boy who can never be bothered to eat much of anything on any given day was absolutely clamoring for Goldfish crackers and milk for the entire period when he could not have them. I imagine he is probably among the youngest of the Expert Guilt Trippers after this week's performances.

So yeah, it wasn't an easy week. But I can't get over this feeding tube and pump. Wonderful inventions. I could not be more thrilled. He is laying in his bed and barely even feels the filling sensation of fat and calories that I've programmed his pump to administer. I'm like a ninja mom, in that way. Or ninja chef? Or ninja enteral feeder, most likely. Whatever--I'm a ninja in any of these scenarios, and you won't see me arguing with that.

As if he wasn't already totally adorable before, now he refers to his button (the surgically-installed device in his tummy where the feeding tube plugs in) as his "door". As in, "Look--I have a door on my tummy." That's such a perfect way for a three year old to understand the concept and purpose of it, isn't it? I don't know how he came up with that, but what a clever boy.

Kyle turns four years old in four weeks and he weighs about twenty-three pounds. That's "0th percentile", at best. He is diagnosed "failure to thrive" going on about eighteen months now. I tried non-invasive solutions--DuoCal, Carnation Instant Breakfast, adding butter/oil/guacamole/cream cheese/peanut butter to his foods--and after so many months I had to finally admit that these strategies did not work for him.

I know it's only been a week, but my admiration for this g-tube is off the charts. I never realized how much time I used to spend a) thinking up things that he might agree to eat, b) begging him to eat things that I know he likes, c) watching him not eat things that I know are good for him, d) throwing away nutritious foods that he simply refused to consume, e) wonder how I can leverage dessert in a way which will make him eat any of his dinner.

Today? He had Doritos and chocolate ice cream. For breakfast. And I don't even care. I can ignore this particular battle because his doctors and I are winning the war.