T-to-the-ired.

I wish I could explain to you the exhaustion. The absolutely dire lack of sleep. The immenent need to crawl back into bed and sleep until tomorrow. I. Am. Tired.

{The Backstory}

So, we're eating last night. It's about 6:30pm. Groceries are strewn haphazardly across the kitchen table and sink, and dinner was some kind of microwavable pasta that I got on sale for a buck. Becks is shoveling yogurt into his mouth with one hand while holding a perfectly capable spoon with the other. I guess it's only for show, since his hands are his utensil of choice. B and I are conversing about the day's events and suddenly there was a flicker. The lights.

On.

Off.

On.

Off.

No electric. Streetwide. Citywide.

I made a couple of phone calls to the energy company, reported our outage and prayed that this wasn't a repeat of September 2008 when we lost power for the entire work week. The automated machine said that we'd receive a phone call when power was restored. The difference between having a major power outage in September versus December is obviously temperature. Our poorly insulated 1950s cape cod was losing heat faster than you can say shiver me timbers, and we could barely hear each other over all the teeth chattering.

An hour later we were still powerless, so we gathered all the candle power we could and started packing our things to stay at my parents' place where heat and cable TV were abundant. Pending that promised call from the energy co., we'd planned to stay there all night.

So we end up sleeping over and all is peaceful and wonderful until Becks gets up wailing at 3am. We pull him into bed between us and head back into dreamland. Except not. Because Beckham was wide awake, and performed TWO AND A HALF HOURS worth of acrobatics between me and B for the duration of the night.

He repeatedly tossed and turned, headbutting me all the while in a futile attempt at getting comfortable. He smothered me with G (his lovie), and laid his head on my face. Then he would alternate between my stomach and face. Then he pivoted around so that his feet were by my head or B's stomach and he would start to kick. When I went to the bathroom at 4am, he insisted on accompanying me and asked for a drink and to brush his teeth. This went on for TWO AND A HALF HOURS. If you didn't catch that earlier, I thought I'd bold and underline it again. Because that's a long darn time. All in all, there was a whole lotta non-sleep going on.

At 5:30am, I gave up. And now I'm basically a zombie.

Oh, but lest my neighbor inform me - the power returned at 9pm last night.

Never got that phone call. Arrrrrrrgh.

Robeez Giveaway Winner!

Hey y'all! Will add a more detailed post later, but the winner of the Robeez shoes is Heather from Variable Clouds! Heather, please email me at babblingabby(at)gmail(dot)com so that I can discuss details with you :)

Thanks everyone for playing along!!!!

Love for our little man.

First of all, I should probably apologize because I've really been slacking on my posting lately.  It's just hard to find things to write about when you do the SAME thing over and over every day.  And things have been a little nuts around here lately.  Tripp has been getting mucus plugs again.  Yesterday and the day before he woke up in the morning with a plug.  Started crying through his mouth, turning blueish-grey. The first time I got it out with saline and the ambu bag.  The second time, I had to change out the whole trach.  I couldn't figure it out.  Because he stays on the trach collar humidifier at night.  Finally, I realized it was the heater.  The vent is right over his crib in my room.  Now remember, our heater does not go over 68 degrees... I'm not trying to give my little "wrapped up mummy" a heat stroke.  But I guess it was enough to dry him out.  And Randy and my sister both tried to close the vent off, but it's stuck.  So last night the heater just stayed off all together and we put a little floor heater in the room by our bed.  And guess what?  NO mucus plug this morning.  Not yet, at least.  Tripp is still sleeping and yes, I know I should be sleeping too, but this is the only time I have to do anything.  It seems like every time I would sit down and try to blog lately, I would have to get up and do something.  And I ALMOST have all my Christmas shopping done.  I am buying every single Christmas present online.  I know, UPS is gonna HATE our house.  But it's the only possible way for me to do it.  We haven't been out of the house in, well.... a very long time.  And that's okay.  I want to feel comfortable taking him out, and I'm not comfortable doing that yet.  He's doing much better with the secretions.  I'm still suctioning a good bit, but not nearly as much as I used to.  Yesterday was bath day.  My mom and dad came over, and Randy and my dad BBQed outside while my mom and I did bath inside.  I was completely dreading bath time yesterday, because he has been getting more blisters than usual lately and some spots are completely RAW.  But you know... it wasn't as bad as I thought it was going to be.  He continues to amaze me every day.

Last night after my parents left, I got everything set up for bedtime, I straightened up the house, I took my shower... and we were all in bed for around 9:30!! WOW, that never happens.  But, of course, Tripp was sleeping and I wasn't tired.  Imagine that.  Last night was the first time in a long time that I cried.  I think it was because I wasn't running around trying to get things done, he was sleeping so I wasn't standing over him waiting for him to fall asleep... I actually had time to THINK about what is going on.  I hardly EVER have time to stop and think about everything that goes on in this house.  I was sad.  Really sad.  It's just really hard to have to watch your baby live like ours does.  The sores, his poor mouth, the coughing and choking, not being able to breathe.  It really messes with your head.  You feel completely helpless all the time.  But I never even get a chance to feel sad, or be depressed, because every time I even start to feel that way.... I think of all he is going through.  He knows when I'm sad, and you may think I'm crazy for thinking that.  But he absolutely does.  If at anytime I start to cry... he just stares at me... not moving, not being fussy, nothing.  Just stares... like he's thinking, "Mom, are you okay?"  So I really try not to cry in front of him, even though I am sad all the time.  Except of course, when he is happy.  Nothing in the world could make me happier than when he smiles.  It's truly like a miracle.

I don't know if you read Jen Burns message on Tripp's caringbridge site on December 4th, but it really made me think.  Of course as Tripp's mom (and all the other EB moms), I am going to pray for a cure for my sick baby who is suffering.  But what if that is not God's plan or God's will.  Like she said, HOW GREAT will Tripp's reward be when he gets to heaven.  What if God is using OUR SON for something bigger than we could ever imagine.  He's already changed MY life and MY husband's life.  Maybe he has to suffer so that other's can realize how precious their life is, how lucky they are, and how blessed they must be.  I know I've sure realized that.  Tripp has opened my eyes to more beautiful things than I could have ever imagined.  He's made me realize what TRUE love is, he's shown me the TRUE meaning of FAMILY, and has proved to me that God picked Randy and I to raise a child who is suffering so that he could know what real love is.  I just keep thinking, what if Tripp had parents who didn't care or didn't love him, or hold him and squeeze him constantly.  What if he never got told "I love you."  Would he be in more pain?  Do we lessen his pain by loving him and holding him and being there 100% of the time when he is hurting or crying? If we didn't act like silly, crazy people in front of him every day so he will smile, would he ever smile??  Do we make him a happier baby by kissing him a million times a day?  I think so.  And like Jen said, God told us..."Blessed are those who weep, for GREAT is their reward in HEAVEN."  Thanks Jen.

"For we are God's workmanship, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do."

-Ephesians 2:10

Holy chicken sandwich, Batman! {Why DO people say "Holy _____, batman?"}

Becks and I had a lunch date today at Chick-fil-A, which is probably, no unequivocally, the best fast food restaurant that exists. If you do not have this fine establishment in your vicinity, I suggest you move immediately to the closest shopping locale that for sure houses one or four of these. {Actually, our scummy mall redid its food court over a year ago and Chick-fil-A failed to renew its space, and we've been without one for awhile. And our mall is scummy because it is filled with scary people every time I'm there and I feel the need to sanitize and resanitize my hands, shoes, and stroller every time we visit. But that's where The Gap is, so it's sometimes necessary.}

Anyway, I love having a little buddy to dine-in with now. Even if our conversation centers around not throwing waffle fries on the floor and the cow covered Mylar bwoos (balloons), he's still pleasant company. He takes after his momma and enjoys people-watching tremendously. Seriously, I could sit and stare casually eye the interesting patrons all day. Like the woman who was there with three little boys, at least one being school age. Before she shifted sides of her booth seat so that we could conversate face-to-face and become fast food BFFs, I had already pegged her as a home schoolin' mama. Turns out I was on the money. Then it just got awkward because while she contined to talk, Becks and I were ready to run off to Target and I didn't know how to properly discontinue our conversation without being rude. Or her asking for my phone number so that we could our same-age boys together for a play date. Eventually, I gathered our things, said Nice meeting you! and maybe even See you soon! because I wasn't sure there was a more appropriate way to skidaddle. {Has this ever happened to you? What did you do?}


Target was busy. As expected. We were picking out gifts for our Angel Tree child, and my heart genuinely goes out to these kids. An Angel Tree child has one or more parents that are incarcerated, and the presents we buy are gifted to the child on behalf of their parent(s). So sad. I literally cannot imagine not seeing my child grow up. Prison Fellowship reaches out to these inmates and their families though, and I think that is such a worthy cause. If you're interested in this ministry, check out the links.

Our mission of the weekend is to locate Santa Claus so that I can get a pic of my sweet boy and the jolly old elf. However, heeding the warning of Mama Perks, I'm not sure that my budget is going to allow for these pictures... Apparently I'm out of the loop on the expense of a coveted Santa picture because I had NO IDEA that there was even a charge for this service. $19 for four wallets, for real?!

Happy weekend, people!!!

Rock, Paper, Scissors, MARKER?????? or LOSER PUTS UP THE TREE!

This is the happy family pre-Christmas tree assembly. You can tell Becks is already preparing for the worst...

Good afternoon, everyone. I am feeling better, and thank you for your many kind words of comfort and joy as I recover from intestinal hell.

There are a couple of things you should know, first off. Mainly that I returned to school today to find that the Christmas crazies had swapped my kindergarten class out for a bunch of yahoos. No, seriously, yahoos. Tomorrow I plan to threaten them with the Wrath of Coal, and how that's all they're going to find under the Christmas tree if they don't WATCH IT RIGHT NOW, MISTER.

So, that was fun. If you consider fun a pack of 5- and 6-year-olds talking, talking, talking while you're trying to teach, teach, teach. Because it is far more fun to play rock, paper, scissors, marker rather than listen to The Cajun Cornbread Boy (a sweet take on the popular Gingerbread Boy, if you're familiar). And who knew that the standard rock, paper, scissors game had now added an additional writing utensil? News to me. Though I would call it rock, paper, scissors, fine tip Sharpie if it were me. Just saying.

Speaking of fine tip Sharpies, I was planning to hand-address all thousand or so of our annual Christmas card - which is usually one of my favorite holiday hobbies since it involves me penning names and addresses in a variety of fonts and colors - but I think I'm going the completely impersonal route and turning an Excel spreadsheet into mailing labels. So sue me. There isn't a whole lot of time left hanging about around these parts, and what time is available I try to spend do things that require little brain matter, like scouring People for the latest RPatt pics. I kid. Or not.

While I have decorated for Christmas around Chez Babbling, I have yet to unfurl the nasty beast that is the artificial evergreen waiting for its annual release from its box in the basement. The warning on that box should not be that it contains small pieces that children could choke on (it probably doesn't say that though, since no child I know could fit twelve inches of prickly tree limb into his mouth without someone noticing), but instead that marital discord during assembly is inevitable.

And if y'all don't know what I'm talking about then you've for sure never assembled a seven foot tree with your spouse. And if you've seriously created the ideal process where both husband and wife can peaceably coexist during this feat, then publish a book and I'll buy it. Because never before, in our extensive 3.5 years of marriage (this being our fourth Christmas) have we ever put together an artificial Christmas tree without one spouse whispering under his/her breath that doesn't go there while the other tries to jab twelve inches of prickly tree limb into the absolute wrong place but is too proud to remove it so we have an awkward looking limb sticking out all misplaced for the duration of the Christmas season. Again, I kid.

So once the tree's up, I guess we'll call it a jolly holiday and move onto something more fun like baking gingerbread men or something. Which I am actually doing tonight, in hopes that the-class-formerly-known-as-kindergareteners will get to decorate tomorrow at the conclusion of our gingerbread unit. However, I did STAND ON A CHAIR (I was going for dramatic) today, to preach about good behavior and how I'M NOT EVEN ONE BIT SCARED to take away that fun activity if their behavior doesn't warrant it. I. Am. So. Mean.

Anyway, tomorrow's Friday, y'all, and that is a reason to do a little happy dance while you listen to Charlie Brown's Christmas on Pandora. Or you could play rock, paper, scissors, marker with your spouse and the loser has to put up the Christmas tree alone. Whatever suits your fancy.

Double Ick.

We are alive. Barely.

It's not been a good past 48 hours at the Babbling Household. After all of the Thanksgiving hubbub, the stomach flu hit me hard at 3:30am two days ago. I'll kindly spare you the details. Whatever I had was crazy contagious, and then in rolled my husband early from work yesterday having come down with the same thing. I felt awful. For me and for him. But mostly for Becks. Who, while he was in the loving arms of the nanas, had to avoid us for 24 hours and spent his first night away from the both of us. Amidst writhing in abdominal pain and shivering beneath a down comforter, I was also sobbing from missing him so much. It was terrible. For everyone involved.

So, I've subsisted on ginger ale and saltines for the past two days, and B is quarantined in our bedroom. While I'm on the upswing, he's probably a good 8 hours behind me, so I expect him to feel better by dinnertime.

The good news is that I felt well enough to clorox, lysol, and/or vinegar clean the entire house, anticipating the arrival of Becks who came home about an hour ago.

I hope y'all are in better health than we are.

And if you haven't participated yet, go check out my Robeez Giveaway posted below!

Who Dat Say Gonna Beat 'Dem Saints....

Goooo Saints!!  Hey guys.  Things are going okay. Today was a little better than the last couple of days. He is still just so miserable from these stinkin sores in his mouth. So the latest is: I could not get back in touch with the dentist we saw at Children's hospital, so I took it upon myself to e-mail the dentist in Cincinnati yesterday. She e-mailed right back and gave me her cell to call her at home... she was SOO incredibly nice. She said she was going to try and get in touch with the dentist here and let me know something back. Meanwhile, Tripp's pediatrician was trying her best to help, too. So she got me in touch with another dentist from LSU that works at Children's hospital also. So to make a looooong story short... something is finally getting done. Tripp has another appointment with this new dentist here on Thursday, and then we will see where we need to go from there. If they talk together and decide his mouth is bad enough to take the teeth out, then we will have them taken out. The Cincinnati dentist said that she would recommend pulling the 4 top and 4 bottom but trying to cap the molars instead of pulling those. 'Sigh'... I know, poor kid. Just when we think that things are starting to get better, something else comes up. AND NOW, I think he might (might) be starting to have some problems with his eyes. Go freaken figure. Corneal abrasions is common in EB, and it seems like Tripp is trying them ALL out. Now I don't know for sure, but he's been doing some really weird things with his eyes. First of all, he is rubbing them like a maniac! They've been red in a few spots and really watery. Sometimes it seems like they get stuck shut and he can't open them, he gets really really fussy and it lasts like a few minutes, then he seems okay. But he's been doing that pretty often. So if it continues a lot, then I guess we will go ahead and see an eye doctor, too. But right now I am concerned about his mouth the most. Poor, poor baby. That's kind of the reason I haven't written too much lately. I didn't want every post to be negative and depressing. Because that's kinda been my mood the past few days. I just want his pain to go away. I can handle all that I need to do to take care of him with a smile on my face... but it's hard to smile seeing him in so much pain all the time. And I'm not a big believer of all kinds of medicine, but I'm still giving the Motrin and Tylenol rotated around the clock.

On the up-side, he is one AMAZING child. He's now grabbing his sippy cup and biting it with his teeth. I don't know HOW he is able to do that. I wish I could get a close up picture of the inside of his mouth. I put ice water in the sippy cup, so maybe it just feels good in his mouth. I don't think he's sucking, so I don't know if he's actually getting any water, but he likes biting it. And I love when he can get it to his mouth :)

And did I mention how much he LOVES his Daddy. I think that quality time really did him some good. When Daddy comes home from work, it's like he's a little puppy dog wagging his tail. He moves his whole little body. SO cute. He'll do it for Mommy occasionally... but I have to act EXTRA silly. All Daddy has to do is talk. Ha.

So his new changing table is pretty cool. Aunt Davi and Uncle Ricky brought it over Sunday. Aunt Davi went and got the table and Uncle Ricky finished it in ONE day. Pretty awesome, huh? It has a lazy susan on top so I can spin him from side to side. And it's tall enough so that I can store his supplies underneath and hide them so that his room can fit his toys again. Here's the new table.

Storage!! Yay!

This material is just temporary until I find one I really like and someone who can make me some little curtains to cover the bottom.  And I have to make some covers for the lazy susan so I can just take them off and wash them.

And here are a few more random pics..

Look, Ma... NO HANDS!!

This was his "had to get a shot present..." I really think he's thinking...

"THIS is what you call a PRESENT??  A scary, singing duck?"

He wasn't impressed... as always.

This is by far our favorite thing!!  He always has just ONE leg up in the air.

Whether it's just diaper change, or bath, or whatever.  Haha....

"Chicks Dig Scars" ... You bet they do buddy!!

(check out the monkey's band-aid!)

"He said, 'If you listen carefully to the voice of the LORD your God and do what is right in his eyes, if you pay attention to his commands and keep all his decrees, I will not bring on you any of the diseases I brought on the Egyptians, for I am the LORD, who heals you.'"

- Exodus 15:26