Mia was coughing. She had been sick for a couple of weeks, got better for about a week, and then her nose started running like a faucet, and I knew we were back to sick. On Saturday, she really didn't seem bad, but she was still a little off. That night at dinner, I was worried. After dinner we watched a movie, and eventually we realized (well, I realized, Andy thought I was nuts) that both girls were breathing too fast, too hard, and needed to be seen by a doctor. Since it was Saturday night at 10:00, we ended up in the ER.
I had originally just been planning to take Maggie, but Mia had puked up her meds and I realized that you could see every breath when she was breathing. At her last appointment with the allergist, Mia was diagnosed with two new food allergies (beef and garlic) and we were warned that she was very high risk for asthma. She did outgrow her soy allergy, so that's a plus, but gaining beef and garlic makes it feel like less of a win.
Maggie had pneumonia. Walking pneumonia, but was sick enough to need two breathing treatments, a chest x-ray, and was almost admitted for her low oxygen levels. Good call Mama.
Mia got a breathing treatment, perked up, and was sent home with information about the common cold. Thanks ER. Sunday night we were back. Same problems with albuterol not helping her to breathe. Monday we went to the pediatrician and got our own nebulizer. Monday night, she was admitted to the hospital. Diagnosis of childhood asthma. She is on a twice daily inhaled steroid and we have a much better plan, hopefully, to keep her out of the emergency room the next time she gets sick.
My two year old has asthma. For the first couple of days, Andy was convinced that because I have asthma too, I was the only one who could tell when she was breathing funny. Now that we have had some education, and I reminded him that he knows what normal breathing sounds like, I think he can be counted on to keep an eye on her too.
Sleeping with her in the hospital that night, I was thinking about how they may all have their Daddy's big brown eyes, but these kids are mine.
I know they are mine because they have breathing problems. And allergies. And skin that burns in the summer when you don't use sunscreen. (These two in particular)
I know they are mine because they love music and dancing and dressing up and being silly.
I know they are mine because their teacher has told me that they are kind, and helpful. The very first day of school, she told me that they were a calming influence, and that they tried to help other kids having a tough morning. I wouldn't have been prouder if she had told me they had learned the alphabet backwards.
I know they are mine because they are night owls. I remember thinking that after you had kids, you automatically had to get up at the crack of dawn with them and crashed at night when they all went to bed at 8. Ours are regularly popping back out of bed, don't seem tired when we try to get them to bed at 9, and sleep like teenagers in the morning if we let them.
I know they are mine because they like to color and draw and do crafts. Well, the girls do at least. Maggie is teaching Mia all she knows, and I think she is showing some natural talent already, lol.
I know they are mine because they snuggle, and cuddle, with me, with their grandparents, with each other. I love seeing them all piled up on the couch hands touching, feet touching, just being with each other.
I know they are mine because they are already best friends, and I will do my best to make sure it stays that way.
I know they are mine because they are smart. They are sharp and they are funny, and they are perceptive.
I know they are mine because they listen, most of the time. They don't have to like it, they don't have to agree, but they know that Mommy means what she says, and they love me.
I know they are mine because they use big words, and have big thoughts, and have imagination. This one in particular is supposed to be just a little like her Mommy was at her age.
I know they are mine because they love books. Ben and Maggie are trying to read, are reading along with me, and asking about words and sounds, and letters. I think with a little more time, they would figure it out. Smart. Interested. Wanting to learn new things, and about new places.
I know they are mine because they love animals. They are kind, they help us feed them, and Ben is slowly winning over the dog to be "his". I keep waiting to find her sleeping at the foot of his bed.
I know they are mine because they take care of each other. Maggie does anything for Mia that she needs, Ben grabs the boo boo buddy when Maggie needs it, and Mia misses them when they are gone. Yesterday morning she had been snuggling with me in bed but I had to get up to shower. She walked over to Maggie and plopped down in her lap instead.
I know they are mine because they want to share things with me. Good things, happy things, sad things, boo boo things, things that happened at school, things they find. At night, if I am rocking Mia, they come and find me. If Andy is rocking, they come downstairs and find me.
I know they are mine because they aren't afraid to be silly. To dress up, and wear wings, and take your monkey everywhere you go.
They are mine, not because of how they look, but how they are. I grew them right here in my belly, and they are the very best and worst of me, reflections of who I am and who I want to be. I get compliments all the time on their looks, their manners, their friendliness. I am their Mom, and I couldn't be prouder of who they are becoming, day by day. I want them to grow up kind. Helpful. To make smart choices, and to be good friends to people. I want them to have friends that are also kind, smart and caring. I want them to help be a positive change in the world. I want them to always love each other, and to call their Mommy every day just to check in. To help their Daddy do the Christmas shopping for Mommy. To hold doors for old people, to be a friend to someone who really needs one. To dance and be silly, just because they can.
Every once in awhile, someone who doesn't know my husband will comment about how one or all of them look just like me. I will take it.
This beautiful girl may not have my eyes, but she has my narrow feet, my verbal skills and sounds exactly like me when she is pretending to be a mommy. Margaret Jane, my thinker, my artist, my leader.
And this little boy, with the loving and caring heart, we have no idea where his blond hair and inability to sleep if his room is messy came from, but Benjamin Andrew has my love of books, my knack for worrying and unfortunately, possibly my chin and underbite. Sorry buddy. My helper, my snuggler, my worrier.
And last but not least, this baby girl who is getting too big too fast. Of all the kids, I hear the most that she is my mini me. She looks like Ben as a baby, has his adventurous spirit, but speaks with Maggie's words. Trouble, capital T trouble. There is not a shy bone in her body, and that is something she did not get from me. But her playfulness, her love of music, and bossiness. . .well, those all probably come from me. Amelia Elizabeth, our tiny little dictator, who has fierce protectors in her older siblings.
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I know that this has been said again and again in my blog, but truly, these little people, my children are the best thing that has ever been mine, and I have no idea how I got so lucky to have them. I can't believe how big they are getting, but I'm reminded often of how small they still are.
Someday I will post more photos, hopefully more stories. We have a busy life right now, and I can barely keep up. I hope everyone who reads this feels like they know my kids just a little bit better. I know I'm biased, but they are pretty darn awesome kids, and I think, just a little, it's because they are mine.
