Weekend Getaway with a Twist

This is Elle at our vacation rental home just hours before she was admitted to the hospital for three days with RSV. Rob and I spent the weekend watching oxygen and heart-rate monitors, fighting Elle for control of the oxygen tube up her nose, administering breathing treatments, staying up most of each night, listening to her cry for whichever parent wasn't in the room, and just plain enduring the confinement of a small hospital room while the rest of the kids stayed in Midway with the grandparents equipped with plenty of games, food, cousins, and fun. It worked out just right.

Grateful for:

confidence that Elle would be fine in a few days' time

the fact that the hospital is not a second home for any member of our family

the fact that this overnight stay was the first we've ever had (minus childbirth) with any of our kids 

Rob and his availability

health insurance

Grandma, Grandpa, and Aunt Meme for watching the rest of our kids on their vacation

A follow-up visit revealed a double ear infection, but with antibiotics, she is good as new. 

Don't you just want to smooch that sweet forehead of hers?!

Evans-side Family Weekend Getaway

Tube train!

A perfect day on the slopes.

Smasher and the M&Ms.

Grandpa was NOT interested in taking grandma on a gentle, sight-seeing tour. "Hold on to your bonnet, Darling!"

Cam flew down the mountain Bat-Cam style. I think he had the most fun of everyone—and we all had a party. We actually lost track of Cam and Soda for awhile, but no worries...they were either riding the sledhill or making their way up it on the tow rope. They didn't waste any time wandering around looking for hot cocoa.

Cy gives pointers on proper racing technique for busting the fence at the end of the runway. Jordan and Uncle Scott (and Wolfie) and are all ears. Fence busted, mission accomplished.

Cy hucking snowballs at me on the tow rope.

Uncle Scott "owns" this mountain. Seriously. Ok, not seriously, but you knowutimean.

Wicked-awesome snow hat. Creepy up close.

 

Ignored on Another Level

The sign says, "NOTICE: Mudroom is not a WAITING ROOM for trash bags :) 

—the Managment"

I try.

P as in ... Pneumonia

McKenzie told me last week as I lay near death, "You look ... scary. Like so scary that I don't even want to be in the same room with you." 

I almost posted a photo, but McKenzie cautioned against it. I guess you should be grateful. I didn't check my look in the mirror, so I wouldn't know. I'm picturing skin so pale it looks blue, dark circles under the eyes, a stringy-haired bun on top of my head, and a pained expression as I hack, hack, hack away. I bet Rob finds me especially attractive during those days—all snuggled up in bed with an inhaler in one hand and a roll of toilet paper in the other, sheets soaked in sweat, teeth chattering.... 

McKenzie's terrified; just imagine what the toddlers are thinking...

And therein lies my point—

scary is good if it means some good, 

old-fashioned 

alone time.