Proof

Here is proof that Daniel made it to Chile alive and well. (He is standing with his mission president and his mission president's wife in front of a famous flower clock in the city where he will be working.)

He had a great experience in the MTC. Now the fun really starts!

We love Uncle Daniel! I'm pretty sure the people in Chile will too.

Better late than never

This is the picture from Grandpa's iPhone that belongs in this post.

The picture took longer than expected to reach my email inbox. Who exactly is responsible for the delay is debatable. (Try as I might, though, I don't think I can blame Steve Jobs this time.)

What's important is that now you get to see the picture.

(That girl has attitude. Trust me.)

Sharing

Now that David and Mary are old enough to really play together, all they do is argue, fight, yell, hit, tattle, push, shove, annoy, bicker, pester, and scream bloody murder. (I'M LOSING MY MIND!!!)

But occasionally they find a way to SHARE:

And take turns:
What sweet, fun-loving kids!

(I recently suggested that we mail Mary to Honduras. Since Mary is the queen of annoying little sisters, I was sure David would be keen on the idea. But he started crying that he would miss her. Then he promised Mary that he would guard her from Mom and the cardboard box.)

Grandma Evie's great idea

Grandma Evie went to Lowe's this week and bought a 50-pound bag of sand. Then she told the kids they could do whatever they wanted to with it in the backyard. They don't even have to be bothered with/constrained by a sandbox! Is that awesome or what?!

Let the good times begin.

Prayer for wind

Last weekend David offered a blessing on the food. It went something like this:

Thank you that I could go to playgroup. Please bless Mary's rash that it will get better. And make it windy tomorrow so that I can fly my kite.

So he forgot to actually ask a blessing on the food, but somehow I doubt God minded.

Playgroup had been really fun. Mary's rash did start getting better that evening. And it was windy enough at Grammy's house the next day to fly his kite.

He's off! Up, up, and away...

Hooray for prayer!

Chile

Yesterday my brother Daniel left the Missionary Training Center in Provo and flew to Chile.

David and I pulled out his globe, and I showed him where Uncle Daniel was going. David asked the name of the country.

"Chile," I said.

To which he replied, "What, did they run out of other names?"

Mary the medical mystery manual model

Mary continues to baffle the medical community with her mysterious rash.

Yesterday the dermatologists were clueless. And fascinated. They asked to take pictures of her rash--to show their colleagues, for the good of science, to use as a lively conversation starter during happy hour at next year's American Academy of Dermatology convention in New Orleans. Perhaps Mary's leg will live on in fame within the pages of some medical mystery manual.

It is probably a virus. (I now know way more than I ever dreamed possible about the various herpes viruses, especially herpes-zoster, the one that causes shingles. I also know what a dermatome is. And with this new knowledge that I possess, I too can understand why the doctors are baffled. I also know that I cannot bear to have any wrestlers in this family. And that I will continue to bathe my children regularly.)

But it doesn't really matter what it is. Because the rash never much bothered Mary (and that is the symptom, or lack thereof, that makes this all so mysterious), and it's getting better. If you're going to have a medical mystery in the family, this is the kind to have: one that causes no discomfort and one that gets better quickly. This I can handle.

***

What is harder to handle is that Mary can open child-proofed medicine bottles.

It is also harder to handle the yogurt that Mary regularly smears all over the carpet. And because I have completely given up on feeding my children anything healthy, this yogurt is fluorescent blue (and probably radioactive).

She also took off her own poopy diaper today. On the carpet that had just been professionally cleaned just hours before. That's harder to handle.

What I can handle is dropping Mary off at school on Thursday. (It's been a long quarantine.)

So maybe my mind isn't so powerful after all

To those of you who have requested good weather, good health, promotions, raises, and chocolate donuts: I'm sorry to report that my mind isn't as frighteningly powerful as I had imagined.

Mary doesn't have MRSA. In fact, she doesn't have a staph infection at all. It is a relief to know that my children aren't going to get every strange disease about which I happen to think briefly.

(But there was this one time that my friend was hospitalized with a kidney infection and then a week later I started having pain in my lower back and I started to worry that I too had a kidney infection but then I thought no that's crazy I am just imagining the pain because I am thinking about kidney infections and I forced myself not to worry about it and then a few days later I was collapsed and puking at the clinic with a raging KIDNEY INFECTION and that is when I began to wonder about the potential power of my worry.)

So what, then, does Mary have, you may be asking? (Or not asking, because maybe you don't care. But, really, if you don't care deeply and passionately about the bumps on my daughter's leg, this isn't the blog for you.)

It's a veritable MEDICAL MYSTERY. (Even my parents' friend the seasoned doctor was highly intrigued upon hearing about Mary's medical mystery. I guess Mary's combination of symptoms is pretty weird.)

It's not an allergic reaction. It's not a bacterial infection. So that leaves...a viral infection? Too bad it's not presenting in the right way and in the right places to be viral. After the pediatrician and his colleague examined, inspected, poked, prodded, took cultures, pulled out the lighted magnifying glass head-gear, and studied their medical manuals, they sent us away with an intense anti-viral treatment (every six hours on the dot--how I love to wake my children up at three in the morning, don't you?), a referral to a dermatologist first thing Monday morning, and strict instructions to take her the hospital if it worsened over the weekend.

By the way, I am not worried. (Thank goodness! Who knows what damage my worrying could do to the situation.) Perhaps I should be panicked because when we left the pediatrician Friday afternoon, he was somewhat baffled and somewhat worried. But I found it comforting that he admitted he wasn't sure what it was, that he spent a good deal of unhurried time with us, and that he took steps to help us figure out what's going on (and then we'll all know how worried we should be).

The good news is that Mary is cuddled up next to David here at home and not in a hospital bed. That means those 3 am wake-ups have been working. (In fact, I've never seen a medication work so fast!)

The bad news is...well, I don't know what the bad news is. Other than the fact that I'm setting my alarm for 3 am again tonight. I suppose it's up to the dermatologist to tell us the bad news (or good news!) tomorrow morning.

[I feel like we're in an episode of House, minus the fancy hospital, the troubled limping doctor, the cleavage, the crisis of faith, the white board, the attractive residents peering under my sink, the incorrect diagnosis of sarcoidosis, and...wait. This doesn't feel like House at all. Phew.]

Who wants to see pictures of tulips?!

If you want to see mediocre pictures of late blooming tulips, then you have come to the right place!

Wednesday morning, after dropping David off at school and swinging by the pediatrician for Mary's diagnosis, the girls (my mom, Marie, Mary, and I) went to the arboretum. The most spectacular of the tulips had faded since we were there last time, but there were plenty of late blooming tulips and newly blooming azaleas to keep things absolutely lovely. The perfect weather helped too.

Ready to see some tulips?

A tulip (a "double" tulip).

Tulips.

More tulips.

More tulips.

More tulips. Oh wait. Those aren't tulips. They're gigantic fish just waiting to eat my daughter. At least that's what it seemed like. They were a little freaky. (Unlike tulips.)

This is Aunt Marie! (Yes, she smiles. Mary does too.) Marie, I promise this was the best picture. We're so glad Aunt Marie came to play. She has amazing talents with small children. My kids love that Aunt Marie magic!

Mary sitting on a baby deer and refusing to have her picture taken.

Mary and a little cottage. The debate among the elementary school field trippers was whether this is Little Red Riding Hood's or Hansel and Gretel's.

Mary running. Marie running too.

Yes, more tulips! You didn't really think I was finished with the tulips, did you?

This is Mary taking Marie and Grandma through the secret garden.

No visit to the arboretum is complete without a visit to the pioneer town.

I conclude my post with, you guessed it, TULIPS.

P.S. I love tulips. Greg and I were married in April when all the tulips were in bloom at the Oakland Temple. Tulips always remind me of that happy day...and all the happy days since.

The frightening, incredible power of my mind

I think it; it happens.

Remember the cat? I gave him colon cancer with my mind. I thought very specifically about his having colon cancer. And he did.

Now this:

A week ago Tuesday I was driving home with the radio tuned to NPR. Some lady who wrote a book about MRSA was being interviewed. She explained how everyone carries staph around, and some people even carry MRSA around on their skin, so she mentioned the importance of simply bathing your kids fairly regularly. I thought to myself, "Now I feel justified in bathing my kids fairly regularly. And with my luck, the first time I slack off for a while, somebody will get a skin staph infection."

That very week, due to sickness, super early bedtimes, and travel, my kids went longer than usual between baths. (Every other night is our family average. They went three nights straight without a bath. Three nights isn't bad. Right? I think we only took a bath once a week when I was that age.) By the third bathless night, my mind had the thought that the staph was not being washed away--but I quickly pushed that ridiculous, obsessive-compulsive thought out of my head before I could start to worry. Stupid NPR, giving me more stuff to fret over.

Well, this morning I took Mary to the doctor. Guess what. She has a staph infection on her skin. (We'll find out Friday if it's community-associated MRSA. For obvious reasons, I'm praying it's not!)

What is with my mind?? I NEVER think about staph infections. And one week after I first think about staph, Mary gets it. I momentarily thought very specifically about my kids getting a skin staph infection, and look what happened.

For the safety of the world, I'm going to turn off my mind.

Oh no! A couple of weeks ago I read an article about bed bugs! And I thought very specifically about what an awful experience that would be...TURNING OFF MY MIND!!