General Pruetz Family Goings-On

This weekend marked a lot of "firsts" for our family. And frankly, it's about time.

For awhile now, the twins have been saying, "Mama" and "Da-dah," with the occassional, "Deh-deh" thrown in (something I assume is their version of "Devin"). But, like all babies, sayings and habits come and go and they dropped these words for the most part (dire cases like 3:00 a.m. bad dreams or the need for a toy that's rolled under the couch brought the words back out). Because of this, I've become very frustrated in recent weeks.

See, Devin was very advanced in his speech. He started using multiple signs by about nine months and had about a 500 word vocabulary on his first birthday. Very early on, I knew Devin's needs and was over the "Why are you crying? What do you want?" stage of mommyhood much earlier than most. Devin being my first, though, made me think this was all very normal.

The girls, however, are on the opposite end of the spectrum. First, being preemies works against them -- for at least a few years, they'll be behind in just about everything.

Second, being twins is also a strike. Twins tend to learn to communicate with one another before anyone else and they very often stick with that method of communication. I've known of twins who didn't speak until they were six because their twin talk got them where they needed to go.

This is certainly the case already with my girls. They hold entire conversations in some language I've never heard. We often call it, "Speaking in tongues."

And third, my history works against me My first kid talked early. So my second and third should do the same.

All of this spells a lot of, "You're 14 months old! Why are you crying all the time???" Even if i don't say it, I think it very often.

But this weekend, we made a breakthrough (yes...I'm finally getting to my point).

On Friday morning, as we were having breakfast, I was feeding the girls their usual bananas. They love bananas and will take them any way they can get them. First was from a jar, then was mashed up on their trays and now it's just dump a few pieces down and back away quickly before you lose a finger.

As they were finishing up with their first round, I was asking out loud, "What else do you want?" trying to come up with something to give them some variety in their diet.

Grace looked right at me and said, "Manna..."

What? What did you just say?

Then she did the sign for "Please" by patting her open hand to her chest. And once again said, "Manna..."

I nearly died. I called Todd.

"It's happening! It's finally happening! They're communicating with me!"

You'd think I'd just won the lottery.

And doesn't it seem that when one thing happens, it opens a floodgate? Thoughout the weekend we had a number of "firsts" from both girls. Gracie learned to play Peek-a-Boo without our help -- hands over the eyes and "Where's Gracie?" from Mom or Dad. Then she uncovers her eyes and grins with all three teeth.

Three teeth? Hey look! One of Grace's top teeth is coming in!

Then it was kisses from Grace -- big, open-mouth, slobbery kisses, right on the kisser.

Faith wasn't left out either. She's begun with please, like today when she was sitting on the floor, crying and, once again, the "You're 14 months!" thought went through my mind. Before I could ask her to try to tell me what she needed, she did the sign for "up" by holding both hands in the air. I said, "You want me to hold you?" Her reply? The sign for "Please."

At dinner tonight was what I think may have been the sign for "Thank you."

Finally. Thank God.

Moving On...

Today was Devin's 4th check up. I'm proud to say that it went great. He weighs 38 pounds and is 41.5 inches tall. That puts him at 75% for weight and 55% for height. Larger than 75% of the population of boys age four, and yet the kid is as thin as a rail. I guess that's just how boys are. It just ain't fair.

He did great with his Denver study, being able to point to and do all of the things he was supposed to do. Ahead of the curve as usual.

His hearing test went well, but his vision test showed him with 20/40 vision. We'll be seeing an eye doctor soon to get a complete exam and see what's going on.

Lastly, though, were his four-year shots. I told him ahead of time that he'd have to get shots and while he didn't seem to dwell on it all day long, he did ask about it a few times during the exam. And finally, the nurse came in and the wailing began.

Because he's such a big boy (*sniff*), he got the shots in his arm. I sat in a chair with him on my lap. I wrapped my legs around his, my arms around his and held his head still with my chin. Polio vaccine in the left arm.

Screaming.

Second shot (don't recall which one) in the right arm.

More screaming.

Measles/Mumps/Rubella in the right arm.

My child turned into Satan.

Apparently, the MMR shot is a doozie and boy did it hurt him. The poor guy just screamed and screamed. After it was all done and the bandaids were administered, I held Devin to my chest and rocked him back and forth. Even as a baby, this wasn't something he loved to do, but today all he wanted was his mommy. Even in such a horrible situation, it still warmed my heart. He'll always be my first love.

As a special treat, we drove through our local Krispy Kreme and got a doughnut for Devin (okay, one for me too). He also requested a Sprite. Against my better judgment, I acquiesced, and minutes later sticky soda was all over my minivan. I guess it wasn't truly a mom-mobile until that happened.

And now, without further ado...

Here are the photos I promised in my last post:

Devin turned four on July 11, 2007


Devin and across-the-street neighbor buddy, Reid, at Devin's party at Inflatable Wonderland


Brother-in-law, Brian, and my nephew/Godson Brendan, doing their impression of a super hero


Best friend, Sylvia, and her son/my other (but no less important!) Godson, Drew


Action shot of Addy and Presley on the big slide at Inflatable Wonderland


All other photos of Devin, when he is quietly smiling for the camera are posed. This is the real Devin, in his truest form


Pa-pa (my dad) bounces Gracie on the side of one of the inflatable attractions


Macy, Dale, Reid (across-the-street neighbors) and Devin sporting their Bubba Teeth from their goodie bags. How could I resist handing these out?


Not at all related to the birthday party, but worth a mention nonetheless. This weekend, all was quiet upstairs. Too quiet. When I went to check on what Devin was doing, I noticed that his hair was wet. I asked why and he said, "I was washing it so you would be proud of me getting clean all by myself." And to make matters worse: He used handsoap. And no water.

So Much Catching Up To Do...

We have been so busy around here. I keep saying to myself, "I need to post this, " and "I need to blog about that." But I just can't seem to find the time. I'll start from where I left off. Get comfy...we could be here awhile.

After the Fourth of July, the girls were diagnosed with two double ear infections. True to form, Gracie's cleared up very quickly, while Faith finished ten days of antibiotics and got a fever on the 11th day. Another round of antibiotics. Ten days of medications. Fever on the 11th. Another round of antibiotics. An allergic reaction. Stopped antibiotics for 48 hours. Restarted antibiotics two days ago. Waiting for fever to return. Tubes are next.

The Monday after my last post, July 9, Devin started Vacation Bible School at one of the neighborhood churches. Our church's VBS is only for four-years-old and up, so he missed that one. But this one accepted kids at two years of age, so we signed up. Day One went great. We were set for Day Two.

Day Two arrived. Devin complained that he didn't want to go. I put him in the car anyway. We drove to the church and he refused to get out of the car. I dragged him out and took him to his classroom.

That's when all hell broke loose.

There was screaming, crying and an attempt to "climb" me in order to get me to carry him. I quickly said my goodbyes, handed him to his teacher and made my way down the hall.

Moments later, I heard a screetch, an "OUCH!" and here came Devin, out of the room, bolting toward me, his teacher limping behind him. Apparently, he kicked her, wriggled from her arms and ran after me.

I begged, I pleaded and then I just got downright mad. He wouldn't relent. He didn't want to go. VBS was starting and we were beginning to make a scene. So I gave up and took him home.

I know I sent the wrong message, but I didn't know what else to do.

We came home and D's punishment was to stay in his room until Daddy got home that night. I also told him that if he didn't got to VBS for the rest of the week, I would cancel his birthday party. And I meant it -- I was prepared to do so.

Needless to say, Days Three, Four and Five went much better. He wasn't thrilled to go, but he knew I was serious about his party and he wasn't about to let that happen.

Favorite Devin's Doozie from Day Two of Vacation Bible School: "I don't want to learn about Jesus!!!"

Wednesday, July 11, was Devin's fourth birthday and we celebrated at home with cupcakes for breakfast (a family tradition), a big, "It's my birthday!" button worn all day and a special dinner of pizza and Sprite, followed by presents from the family.

Saturday the 14th was the big party and, since VBS had gone smoothly for the rest of the week, Devin was permitted to go and have a great time.

We arrived at Inflatable Wonderland a little before the 1:00 p.m. start of the party. Todd arranged the cake and presents while I re-stuffed the goodie bags that I had dropped all over the parking lot on the way in. Classic Erin.

Soon, kids and family started arriving and most of the kids bolted for the giagantic, inflatable slides, castles and obstacle courses while their parents came to sit down and chat to avoid the mayhem.

There was the hokey pokey, the limbo and some fun dancing. Next was cake (Lightning McQueen from Cars of course) and ice cream and then presents. Lots and lots of presents. My Lord, the presents. It was gluttonous.

And then, two hours after the start, it was over. We paid up, loaded up and left the mess behind. It was totally worth every cent to walk away from the melted ice cream, cake-smeared table cloth and mound of wrapping paper.

If you're wondering, the girls were in attendance at the party and they enjoyed the attention they got from Grandma, Grandpa and Pa-Pa, as well as friends like the Schaefers and the Daniels.

Sunday was a night on the town with my sister, brother-in-law and three of their four kids (their oldest when on a summer trip with Pa-Pa, my dad). We went to the San Marcos River Pub and Grill, about an hour north of here. We dined on burgers, chips and queso (for those of you non-Texans, french fries are very often cut out of the picture in lieu of tortilla chips and cheesy dip -- a very yummy Texas delicacy) and beer on the lawn and waited for the show to begin.

Around 7:30, Bruce Robison, brother to Charlie Robison, who is married to one of the Dixie Chicks (SMU girls! Go Ponies!), hopped up on stage and sang a number of fantastic Texas-country style songs. Some were originals I had never heard like, "I went out to find myself and I found myself in bar." and others were classics like, "What Would Willie Do?" There were even a few George Strait and Dixie Chicks songs. Our kind of show, for sure.

ZZ's three kids (Presley, four, and Brendan and Kaelin, two) and Devin had the best time running around, catching lightning bugs and making friends with the families around us. The kids were almost as big of a hit as the performer was.

We packed up the families around 9:30 and headed back to San Antonio. As we were approaching our neighborhood, I got a call from our babysitter -- apparently the girls had been screaming since we left (despite the fact that I had bathed, fed and jammied them so that all Sarah had to do was put them to sleep at 6:30) and she was wondering if she could give them some milk. The poor thing -- my heart was sick for this poor young lady. She'd even called her mom over to help her out. I doubt she'll ever want to babysit for us again, and I can't blame her.

We got home and got the girls settled down (apparently, only mommy and daddy will do) and I drove Sarah home, apologizing all the way. I wish I could have crawled into a hole and died.

We didn't get into bed until pretty late and the next day was the first day of summer camp for Devin. It's held at the same church where VBS was held and when we pulled into the parking lot, Devin said, "Whoa, whoa, whoa! What are ya doin'?" I said, "Summer camp!"

"No way! This is VBS!" It was as though this was the first my son was hearing of summer camp, even though I'd been talking it up for weeks.

It took some time for me to convince Devin that this would be a totally different experience than Vacation Bible School and he finally obliged, dragging his feet into the building. He perked up when he saw that he was going to be in a different classroom with different teachers. It finally dawned on him that this really might be different.

Then he saw Colin. Colin is a buddy of his who is exactly the same age as Devin. Colin's mommy, Erin, is a good friend of mine as well and I said a special, "Thank you God!" prayer right then and there as Devin suddenly became interested in being a part of summer camp.

So Tuesday and Thursday went great (only two days a week - bummer for me). Devin just loves this summer camp program and so far he's made homemade play-dough (Casey -- my dream came true! Devin got to make play-dough and I didn't have to clean it up!) and brought home tons of crafts. Much better than VBS, apparently.

All this week, too, we've been doing swimming lessons. A former neighbor of my sister is a certified swimming instructor who does private lessons in her own pool. For eight days straight, I take D to her house and she spends 30 minutes teaching him to kick his legs, use his arms and blow bubbles. He's gotten all three down -- now we're just trying to coordinate them all. She says she sees a lot of progress already. We'll finish out these eight lessons, practice what we've learned and then take some more next summer. Hopefully soon, I'll have a little fish on my hands, as I loved the water when I was Devin's age (okay, I still do) and I want him to feel the same way.

So along with ear infections, parties, VBS, summer camp and swimming lessons, we've also been doing gymnastics. Devin just loves it and opted to continue gymnastics rather than do soccer this fall. A former gymnast and diver myself, I couldn't be more proud.

So there you have it -- the hectic life of the Pruetz family. I vaguely remember my husband and I assume I could pick him out of a lineup. I haven't seen him much lately, as he's been at church a lot, working on a retreat that he's teaming next weekend and I've been all over the place with the kids.

Such is the life of a mommy, huh? And it's only going to get more and more hectic as the three of them get older. For the most part, I enjoy it, but when I fall asleep at 9:15 and don't wake up again until 7:15 the next morning (as I did last night, thanks to Todd who took over household responsibilities for the night), I know I must be exhausted and think to myself, "Slow down... you're going to burn out." We'll see.

Peace.

Erin

PS - Of course, there are lots of photos, but I'll post them later. Hopefully today, but the twins are crying and I need to go get them from their cribs before they learn how to jump out. ;)

Oh Say, Can You See...

The Fourth of July was a fun one around the Pruetz house. The day started out with threatening clouds and a couple of showers of rain (which, as you know from my last post, has become pretty commonplace around here!). We worried a little about our plans getting ruined, but true-to-form, the rain was kept at bay for a good fireworks show after dark.

Our friends Jennifer and Jesse, and their kiddos Amanda and Andrew, came over, along with Sylvia, Morris and their son Andrew. The only family missing from our usual group was Destiny and Steve and their son, whose name is....you guessed it: Andrew. Do you sense a theme here? Out of our little group, 75% of the couples have a son named Andrew. Weird, huh?

Anyway, we started the fun out doing some smoke bombs on the driveway. All of the neighbors came out, too, with their fireworks and the kids invented a new game: Todd, Morris and Jesse would light a smoke bomb and roll it down the street toward the storm drain. All of the kids would try to stop it from going into the drain by kicking it, stepping on it or somehow otherwise diverting it. You would have thought this was the Super Bowl -- they all had a blast.

We cooked burgers and hot dogs, drank beer and watched the kids foam at the mouth as darkness fell around us and the real fireworks came out.

We put the girls down just before we started the show, but not before Todd and I noticed that Faith felt warm. She had just finished her ten-day round of antibiotics that morning, so certainly she couldn't have a baceterial infection -- could she?

Sure enough, the poor baby had a 101.6 fever. Break out the Tylenol.

We got the babies down and started the fireworks. We bought little people-friendly fireworks, but our neighbors with older kids bought some really good ones. As our neighbor, Susan, says, "The shooty-uppy kind." And I'll bet you all know what she's talking about, don't you? Sad, but true. Shooty-uppy kind says it all!

So it was a night of sparklers, fountains, little tanks and chickens that lay eggs. There were roman candles, shooty-uppy fireworks and "screamers" -- those fireworks that shoot little balls of fire into the air while making a shreiking sound. Devin was not impressed by those. :)

The smoke bomb soccer game, in progress


The neighborhood kids watch Jessie light a "snake." Obviously, Devin was unaware that they don't make any noise


Andrew M. and Macy


Macy strikes a pose


Me and Devin


Dale, Nate, Susan (in background), Kurt and Emily


Shooty-uppy fireworks!

I love the Fourth of July -- it just makes my heart swell with pride. What an amazing country we live in. It's not perfect and I'll continue to question our government on many things. But I try to remember just how lucky I am whenever I go to church, meet up with my friends or express my own opinions. Such rights aren't rights to everyone in the world and I have to remember that I am as lucky as can be for living where I do.

On Thursday morning, I called the pediatrician's office and got Faith in to see our doctor at 10:00. Sure enough, the ear infection that she had suffered from only ten days earlier had never cleared up (despite the regimen of antibiotics). Her poor ear was still bulging and painful. A prescription for Amoxil and we're (hopefully) on the road to recovery.

More updates to come.

Blessings to you.

Greetings from the Bottom of the Ocean

We've seen a lot of rain around here. A LOT. It's been a particularly rainy year here in San Antonio, where we have had more rain in the first six months of the year than we get on average in an entire year. Compare that with the last two years where we have had major drought conditions that lead to water restrictions and blistering temperatures and you've got one wild weather pattern.

Luckily, it's really kept our temperatures down. By this time of year, our temperatures are usually in the mid- to high-nineties with heat indexes of over 100 degrees. It's usually downright miserable and while the humidity here has been pretty nasty lately, we've only had highs in the high-eighties. The idea of temperatures being in the eighties during summertime in South Texas is absurd, and yet we're living it. It's fantastic!

All this rain, though, has caused some major problems. Just up the road from us, near where we vacationed at Lake LBJ last year, in Marble Falls, there have been major flooding issues that made it onto the likes of CNN and the CBS Evening News. Nearly 15 people have died in all of this, as our ground is so saturated that any rain that falls can't be absorbed into the ground and has to find alternate places to go. In a hilly place like San Antonio and the rest of the Texas Hill Country, running water can become very dangerous very quickly.

Last Thursday, it started raining around 7:30 in the morning. And I mean pouring. You know those storms that you get that dump an inch of rain in a half-an-hour and then clear out? Well that was the kind of storm that we had, only it didn't clear out for nearly 12 hours. It just poured and poured and poured without stop. Thursday alone, we got around six inches here in my neighborhood.

Today started out with a nice morning, but this afternoon the sky began to darken and the wind started to blow. Sure enough, the sky opened up and dumped another hour's worth of pouring rain on our city. Our across-the-street neighbor, Kurt, measured three-and-a-half inches in just over an hour. Yowza.

As it was coming down, I was looking out our front windows. True to form, our next-door-neighbor, Zach (14 years) was running around, enjoying the downpour. When it's not thundering or lightening, the kids on our street just love to play in the rain.

I saw a person following Zach and assumed it was Dillon, Zach's ten-year-old brother. But I looked more closely and realized that the bathing-suit clad person wasn't Dillon, but rather Billy, Zach and Dillon's dad.

I laughed out loud at the site of the grown man playing the rain and Todd asked what I was laughing at. I told him and BOOM! quicker than lightening, he had gone upstairs and come back down wearing his swim trunks and holding Devin's. Dev quickly dressed into his trunks and out the two of them ran into the pouring rain, to meet up with Zach and Billy.

You have never seen a group of kids (that word includes the adults out there, since they were just as bad as the kids, if not worse) have so much fun. The water rushed down the steep hill on our short cul-de-sac and made little rivers in our front yard and rapids near the storm drain at the end of the street.

Kurt and his five-year-old son, Nate, and eight-year-old Daughter, Emily, joined in the fun and I was able to catch a few pictures of the melee.

Hans and Franz (we know them better as Todd and Billy)


Zach surfs down our street


The photo doesn't do it justice, but this area of water was actually flowing with a small area of rapids and everything. It was quite a site.


Water running down our across-the-street neighbor's steps


Kurt gives Todd his weekly hose-down


Todd and Emily down near the storm drain. The water was about five inches deep after only 20 minutes of rain.

As far as the rest of the family goes, all is well. Last week I had to take the girls into the pediatrician's office to seek out the cause of fevers they both woke up with on Sunday afternoon. Sure enough, they both had double ear infections. We went through this with Devin and as Todd put it, "Break out the ENT's number -- we're getting tubes!" I'm sure we're heading down that road.

Faith's second tooth has finally shown up and Gracie's second tooth (her first one appeared when we were in Galveston on June 7) is trying to break through. Poor girls...I know it can't feel good.

Devin is quickly coming upon his 4th birthday and every day I have to convince him that, "No, today is not your party," and, "If we show up at Inflatable Wonderland they will not just spontaneously throw you a party. We can't have the party until the 14th, when we have it scheduled." Reasoning with a three-year-old ain't easy.

We're looking forward to the Fourth of July and are hoping that the rain holds off at least a little while so we can do some fireworks.

And Finally...Devin's Doozie

Tonight we are spending family time together in the living room, with Todd and Devin playing and me typing. We have "Titanic" on TV and Devin goes in and out of being interested in it. The idea of a ship sinking piques his interest, but the movie as a whole is a bore to him.

A moment ago, he asked Todd, "When is this thing gonna sink?!?"

Everything You've Ever Said (Or Will At Some Point...)

This is for my mommy friends, those who will some day be moms and even for the occassional stay-at-home dad out there (Kurt Berkes, that's for you...).

Take the time to watch. You will not be disappointed.

Cathing Up with the Pruetz Family

This week has been an exciting one in the Pruetz house. With the addition of our latest four-legged friend, we've spent a lot of time outside, teaching the canine to "do her business" in the grass instead of in our formal living room. It's a work in progress.

Tuesday the girls went back to see Dr. Trexler, since they were not able to get their one-year immunizations at their last appointment due to the double ear infections they both had.

Both girls were weighed, with Faith coming in at 17 pounds even and Grace at 17 pounds, 7 ounces. Faith is 26.5 inches and Grace is 26 inches. This marks the first time Faith is longer than Grace!

Both of the girls rank under the 5th percentile, still, when corrected back. They are continuing to gain weight at a regular rate, but Dr. T was hoping that they would have "caught up" by now. She's a little concerned about how small they still are, especially considering how much they eat! (As a side note, we went to Chuck E. Cheese with the MOMS Club on Monday and a fellow mom stopped by our table just to tell me that she'd never seen such small being eat so much food. I had to return to the salad bar three times!). We're going to keep an eye on them and have the twins weighed again in a month. Their slowed recent weight gain may be because of being sick for so long...

Tuesday was also Todd's 39th birthday. After our marathon doctor's appointment -- things take so much longer when there are two -- we came home and put the twins to bed. The combination of being up at 6:30 that morning, thanks to our barking dog, missing their morning nap, getting shots and taking Tylenol to ease the pain meant a four-and-a-half hour snooze for both girls.

During that time, Devin and I prepared for Daddy's celebration. We made a chocolate marble cake and frosted it with fudge icing. Then Devin decorated it with various colors and forms of sprinkles. He had a really good time both decorating the cake and sampling his wares.

Diabetic coma, anyone?


Strategically placed candles (the strategy is still a mystery, but apparently there was some)

Around 3:30 the girls got up from their naps and Todd's parents arrived. They just love our kids and immediately got down on the floor to play with them. Here is Dorothy, the baby whisperer, with the girls.


Grace is standing and Faith is sitting in Dorothy's lap


Grace, Dorothy and Faith

We had Todd's favorite dinner of pollo rellano, spanish rice and bean-and-corn salad with salsa dressing. We ate in the dining room on the good china and enjoyed good conversation and fun.

We opened gifts and Todd got a CD and some cash from his parents, a DVD and an iPod from me and the kids, and an iPod stereo/speaker system from ZZ. He raked it in!

We dug into the cake and ended our night. It was a fun time and I think we ushered in Todd's 40th year of life in style.

Since then, we've just been hanging around the homestead. We've been trying out some gyms around here for Devin to take gymnastics. There is one very close to our house, but it's a gym for serious gymnasts and not for little boys who need to run off some energy. If Devin wants to compete when he's older, we'll probably go to that one, but for now, we're enrolled at Flip City where Devin is learning to do handstands, back walkovers and other fundamentals of gymnastics. He's loving it and we're very happy with our new activity.

Soon he will start Vacation Bible School and then a summer program at a local church. He's very much looking forward to both.

The girls are being as cute as ever. Their latest trick is to put their hands way up above their heads when you say, "Ta da!" to them. It's hysterical and they are a hit at any gathering.

They've also discovered the stairs. They actually discovered them a long time ago, but they are just now realizing that they lead somewhere. Faith is completely attracted to them and can hardly control herself. And when Gracie sees what Faith is doing, she is always right behind.


And they're off!


Erin Pruetz: 2007 Mother of the Year
By the way, that's squished banana on Gracie's bottom. I'm not that bad of a mom! :)

And finally, today is a year since the girls came home from the hospital. I recall that day like it was yesterday -- how happy I was and how terrified I was, all at the same time. I look back on the weeks following their arrival and how difficult it was. Neither would sleep for more than a few minutes at a time, especially at night, and everwhere we went, the heartrate monitors had to go with us. They were small, frail and enough to make my head spin. We went weeks with only 90 to 120 minutes of sleep each night...total. That's not uninterrupted.

But I was so happy I couldn't stand it. My girls were safe, they were healthy and they were home. I was drunk with happiness (some of that was lack of sleep, I'm sure) and despite a very bumpy few months, I wouldn't have changed it for the world.

And now, a year later, my girls are beautiful, personality-filled angels who bring me elation every single day. They walk (well, cruise...close enough), they talk, they follow simple directions and they snuggle. They feed themselves, they are best friends and they love a good adventure. Oh the joy they bring me...

Here are some pictures from June 23, 2006.


Faith and Grace - around 5 pounds each


I need a picture of me holding both of them today. It's a much different picture!

Because I Don't Have Enough To Do...

Apparently, I'm bored. I don't actually believe that I am bored, but why else would I do what I have done? Why else would I get a puppy? I have three kids, two of whom are still only crawling and one of whom is about to enter Pre-K...but, for some reason, I believed that I needed a little more to do.

I alluded to it in one of last week's blog entries and yes, it happened. We now have a dog.

I've always loved Welsh Pembroke Corgis (actually, the plural of Corgi is Corgyn...but I refuse to use that. It sounds stupid). I've always thought they were adorable, with the body the size of a Basset Hound, but the legs the length of a Chihuahua. The big, pointy easy and the inquisitive fox-like face have also always gotten to my heart.

We started talking about getting a dog a few months ago, saying that we would put it off until the girls were a year old. Once that date started nearing, we started talking about what we would get. A mutt? A German Shepherd? A Pug? A Corgi?

Of course, my vote was for the Corgi and I started to contact breeders and rescue operations in the area. I didn't get very far until I check the local newspaper one day and found someone in the area who was selling full-bred pups for much less than everyone else wanted.

Todd contacted Debbie, the breeder, and she sent us some photos of her three males and two females. The puppies were so cute and one of them had these big, round eyes with a sad look on her face. I told Todd, "That one looks like Grace!"

He was sold. He told me to break out the check book -- we were going to get a Corgi.

On Thursday, we contacted the breeder and agreed to meet her in Boerne (another Texas Hill Country town whose name is not at all spelled the way it sounds -- Bernie) midway between where she lives in Kerrville and where we live in San Antonio. We were going to meet at the Home Depot on Saturday at 4:00. It was all set.

But I got to thinking about how much fun it would be to surprise Todd when he got home from work on Friday. Wouldn't the look on his face be priceless if he walked in and a puppy met him at the door?

So I called the breeder back and she told me that picking the dog up on Friday would actually be better for her. She said she'd talk to her husband and call me back to let me know what time.

I stuck by the phone all afternoon and evening, worried that Todd might answer it and realize our plan. Finally, I couldn't wait any longer to bathe the kids, so I walked away from the phone for a few minutes.

Wouldn't you know it? The breeder called and left a message, which Todd got. She said, "How does 11:00 on Friday sound?" The gig was up. Todd knew what I was doing, but I guess it's the thought that counts, right?

So I packed up all the kiddos and we drove to Boerne. I got out of the car and took a peek into the bed of the breeder's pickup truck. In a small kennel were two precious puppies -- both girls. One was red and white while the other was a tricolor of red, white and black.

I thought it would be a difficult decision, and it sort of was. But my favorite Corgi is a red and white and there was one right in front of me. I knew I'd found our dog.

I paid for her, got her AKC papers and packed into the car. We drove home and were greeted by a number of our neighbors who wanted to see the latest Pruetz. All afternoon, in fact, we had guests in and out, ready to meet our little fuzzball. She was a big hit!

We named her Zoe and she's a perfect addition to our family. She plays so well with the kids and wants to please us. She's learning the rules and is even doing well with housebreaking. We're crate training her but she's not exactly thrilled about it. She howls a lot at night and sleep has been an elusive thing. Here's to hoping she learns to love her crate...soon.

Corgis are herding dogs and she definitely has the instinct to herd. She nips at the kids heels (and even at Todd's and mine) and "steers" them in the direction she wants them to go by sidling up to them and nudging them. It's pretty cute, although we're trying to curb the nipping, as we don't want her to get too rough with the kids.

Here is a photo of our littel girl, the day we brought her home at eight weeks old.

Our puppy's full American Kennel Club name is Zoe Love Eyes Play Play Nipper Girl

Moving On...

Today was Father's Day and we celebrated how lucky we are to have Todd. We let Daddy sleep until 10:30 and then I went out to get some breakfast tacos (a San Antonio delicacy!). We hung around, played with the kids and the dog and enjoyed the nice, unseasonably cool weather we're having.

Todd grilled steaks tonight while I made mashed potatoes and asapragus. We dined on a real "man's meal" and thanked God for the blessing we have in Todd.

Happy Father's Day to all you dads out there. You're a special breed.

Devin's Doozie

It's been awhile since I've posted one of these, mostly since Devin has so many, I can't keep track of them long enough to write them all down.

But today was an extra-good one that really deserved remembering. It also helps that he only said it a few minutes ago.

After we had finished lunch today, Devin laid down on the floor next to the kitchen table. When I asked what was wrong he said, "I think I ate too much. My legs won't work. I can't walk."

"Oh dear," I said, "I guess we won't get to do any of the fun things we have planned for this weekend." Devin doesn't know it yet, but we're going to likely get a puppy on Saturday.

He replied to me, "Oh...it'll get better."

And then wistfully, with a far-off look in his eyes and with an element of distance to his voice , he said, "It will get better...someday."

I nearly spit Coke out of my nose.

Twins are Interesting

Okay -- that may be the dumbest of all titles. But the truth is -- it's true! As my girls are getting older and more social, I am seeing more and more interesting things about them. These interesting things strike me as interesting because they are so different from what it was like when Devin was this age.

The most striking of all of the things I've noticed is their need for me. I'm the mommy and they need me for a lot of things -- for assurance and support and love and diaper changes and all of the other things that come with mommyhood.

But one thing they really don't need me for is playtime. They don't need me because they have one another. Just last week, I sat on the floor and both girls immediately crawled over to me. Faith crawled into my lap as Gracie stood next to me, holding onto my shoulder. We laughed, snuggled and played for a moment, but soon the twins got tired of me and found one another more interesting. Before I knew it, the girls were sitting next to me, playing while I sat and looked on.

Now that it's at the top of my mind, I see this happen so often. They cry when the other twin leaves the room, not when I leave the room. They light up when they see the other. They speak their own little language as they sit directly across from one another and pat one another's heads, tickle one another's feet and just enjoy being in the company of their sister.

I wasn't any sort of psychology major in college, but I did take a social psych class in which we talked about the dyamic of three. You may not know it by this particular name, but you've undoubtedly experienced it at some point in your life.

Can you recall a time that you invited your two very best friends over to play? And, at some point, the other two ganged up on you? Most likely, they left you out of a game or conversation or they told you that whatever they were doing only involved two people and you'd have to wait your turn. A turn that never came.

Well...when it comes to my girls, I'm the third. I'm the kid who gets left out of the game, never to recieve a turn. I'm on the outside looking in.

It breaks my heart a little, because I have so many plans for the three of us. Are they going to help one another pick out clothes for their first dates (when they're 30) without me? Will they turn to one another for advice and not me? Oh sigh...

But in the grand scheme of things, I am so very happy about this. My girls are best friends. At only one year old, they already turn to one another before anyone else. They love one another's company and even find ways to communicate with each that is far beyond anything that we can understand. I really do love it, despite a little ping in my heart when I get left out of the group.

Such is life with twins, I guess.

My Summer Vacation...

Last Wednesday, the three kids and I left San Antonio and headed to the island town of Galveston, a coastal town south of Houston for a family holiday.

I grew up in Galveston. Well, on a penninsula just east of Galveston, in Crystal Beach...but that's not really the point.

The point is, that I have been going to Galveston my entire life. My parents and grandparents owned a house down there, right on the water, and we'd spend endless days there during the summer.

The house wasn't much to speak of. Built the year I was born, in 1976, it had the basic comforts of home. Electricity (although after Hurricane Alicia in 1983, the electricity only worked sporadically), a full kitchen (a tricky fridge couldn't be held open for more than a few seconds, though, as it would lose its temperature), a long dining bar, a couple of bedrooms and a front porch that spanned the width of the house.

We didn't have a phone or a TV. We had a microwave for awhile, but again, Hurricane Alicia did her number on it and after that, we just kept it around as a bread box.

The linoleum was orange and yellow and was throughout the whole house. The only bathroom was done in a lovely shade of avocado green (indcluding the toilet!). We did have a bathroom downstairs (the house was one story, but was on stilts and had a storage room on the bottom level), but the toilet was reserved for my dad and grandpa and the stall shower was a breeding ground for praying mantises and other creepy crawlies.

We had a few ceiling fans, but my tall grandad (tall by my midget-sized family's standards, at least) stretched a few too many times and knocked off a couple of blades, so none of the fans were complete. One fan only had one blade. What was the point???

The barstools made hideous creaking noises, as they had premarturely rusted in the salty, humid air. The windows stuck in the moist environment and the air conditioning worked much less than 50 percent of the time.

I know it doesn't sound like it, but our beach house was heaven on earth.

My happiest memories were spent in that house, doing nothing and doing it well.

Mornings would bring me out of the room I shared with my sister and onto the porch where my mom and dad would be sitting, hand in hand, just chatting. The smell of coffee was stronger at the beach, somehow, and I still can't inhale the scent without it taking me back for a moment or two.

We'd have breakfast and harrass my dad to take us to the water slide. This slide was absolutely nothing compared to today's standards, but to us as kids, it was wet, cold and fun...all we needed during a Texas summer.

After the slide would be a snow cone at the adjacent shack and then back to the house for lunch.

A good nap always followed (something about the beach always made us sleep so well) and then we'd head down to the water to play in the surf, build a castle and collect sea shells.

Back at the house was the traditional chips and dips and to this day, Fritos and cream cheese is still an absolute delicacy to me.

Mom and Nana (her mom) would begin with dinner, which was usually burgers grilled by Dad and Poppa (mom's dad), baked beans and some freshly sliced tomatoes with salt and pepper.

But the best part of the day was after dinner. As the sun began to set, relieving the beach of the blistering heat of the day, we would set out for our nightly walk. As cooler breezes blew in, it was almost as though you could feel the world renewing itself, settling down for the night and resting before taking on another day.

I must have walked up and down Crystal Beach a thousand times with my mom, dad, sister and grandparents...but I never remember getting bored. It was the same houses, seaweed, the same driftwood, but somehow, it was always intriguing.

After a good, long stretch of the legs, we'd return back to the house for some quiet time on the porch. Just us, sitting, talking and laughing in the night breeze. In August, we'd watch the Leonid Meteor Shower and when we weren't doing that, we were singing or telling stories. My dad would often sing Mo Bandy's, "Cowboy's Ain't Supposed to Cry," and I'd immediately burst into tears. To this day, at age 31, I still can't help but get teary-eyed when I hear it. If you were at my wedding, you know what I mean.

We'd all get into our bed, sleep to the lullabye of the waves crashing only feet away and wake up only to do it all over again.

It was bliss. It was perfect. It was the very best part of my childhood, along with every Christmas Eve I can remember. Of the six of us (my family, plus my grandmother and grandfather), three are gone and the house was sold when I was in high schoo. But my family and our beach house all live in my heart and I am reunited with them every time I visit Galveston.

So taking my kids down down there was very special for me. We went two years ago, when Devin was two, and it was wonderful then. But adding a couple more children to the legacy of my youth makes it even better.

We joined my dad, stepmom, her four daughters and their families (for a total of 20!) in Galveston for a few days of fun. We spent a lot of time at the resort pool and beach club and lounged in the sun, grilled out and slept in (sort of).

Todd was only able to take Friday off, so he flew into Houston after work on Thursday and it was great to be reunited with him. The kids just loved seeing him, of course...as did I.

We took turns taking Devin to the pool and to the beach while one of us stayed with the girls during their nap times. It gave each of us some good, quality time with Devin while the other got some quiet time back at the house. It worked out well.

The girls, however, were not impressed with their new environment and barely slept the whole time we were there. Todd and I had a balconey off of our bedroom and we took turns rocking the girls to sleep out there, hoping the ocean's dull roar would do the trick. It did and while I was pretty tired the whole time I was there (their need for rocking usually came around 3:00 a.m.!), I couldn't help but love holding my little ones in my arms, just as my mom and dad did with me when I was little.

Saturday night we grilled out at the pool and afterwards, as the girls got sleepy, my dad offered to take them home while Todd, Devin and I stayed back. He said, "Go take a walk on the beach. It's important."

He's right. A walk on the beach doesn't sound like much more than a nice idea, but the fact of the matter is, it's a part of my history and something my family did without fail every night we were down in Galveston. It meant so much to me that Devin, Todd and I were able to walk along the surf as a family and that I got to pass along that legacy. I can't wait to go back when the girls are old enough to go, too.

My dad knows me really well and I appreciate his thoughtfulness so much.

We returned, tired and crispy, yesterday afternoon. It seems that Faith and Grace are getting back into a good routine and Devin looks like he just arrived from Hawaii or something -- he's so tan!

My ankle is feeling much better, although it still hurts when I overdo it or twist around too quickly. I'm staying away from the Vicodin, too. ;)

Here are some photos, courtesy of my dad. I had some others of the rest of the family that I wanted to put in here, but I couldn't get my computer to cooperate. So here are just a few of the many.

Dad got into a picture! He's usually the one behind the camera!


Gracie


Kaelin


ZZ, Brian and Addison


Faith


Presley and Kaelin


Amanda, Devin and Todd. What is Todd doing to that poor shark? :)

The Rest of the Story

I promised to share the remainder of the my-life-is-better-than-fiction story and here it is.

After we left the ER on Friday, we dropped off my prescription for painkillers. We got home and I realized that I had a painkiller left over from my back problems a couple of months ago, so I took one.

I took a quick nap and we headed out on our way to Yoakum. My foot was hurting pretty badly, so when we picked up my prescription on our way out of San Antonio, I took another pill.

Very, very bad idea.

About 15 miles down the road, I started to feel sick to my stomach. I asked Todd to pull over so that I could get a snack. I figured the medicine wasn't settling well.

I grabbed a bag of Chex Mix and we were on our way.

But the nausea only got worse. And worse. And worse. And...

Urp.

I threw up all over the car. I had a bag to puke into, but I mostly missed and it went all over the car and me. Todd pulled to the side of the road and I hopped out and cleaned up using just about every baby wipe I could find. Todd fished another t-shirt out of the back of the van and after I changed in what may have been the nastiest bathroom ever, we were on our way.

I was feeling much better and even sipped on water. But soon, the waves came again. This time, though, it was much worse. It was like I was as drunk as I've ever been. The ground felt as though it was heaving around me and throwing me from side to side. I couldn't even sit up straight and closing my eyes helped momentarily, but soon gave way to the feeling of being tossed around on a ship in a storm.

We pulled onto the two-lane highway that we take into Yoakum as I tried to keep another round of puking at bay. It wasn't meant to be and this time, the puke came fast and furiously. I didn't even have time to grab a bag. I just motioned for Todd to pull over and roll down the window.

So there I was, at 65 miles an hour, throwing up out the passenger's side window of our Kia minivan.

Of course, at that rate of speed, the projectile does not go straight down, but rather back -- and that means a completely redecorated automobile exterior.

Luckily, that was the end of the vomitting, although we all needed a shower when we got to Todd's parents' house since some of the puke also came into the window and slapped the whole family in their respective faces.

What's the moral in all of this? Narcotic-based painkillers are easy to over-dose on. Take it from me -- you don't want do to this.

The rest of our weekend was good. We saw the Yoakum Tom-Tom parade on Saturday morning and on Saturday afternoon, we went to the festival where we looked at vintage cars, watched weiner dog races and played on the playground. Todd even judged a pork bbq contest!

We headed home on Saturday night and had a nice, relaxing rest of the weekend. So far, so good and no ODing of any kind.

Here are a couple of photos we had done of the kiddos recently. Faith is on the left and Grace is on the right in both photos.

Enjoy!

Me

As the Stomach Churns...

Why the title? Because it seems I'm living in a soap opera, that's why.

Just as the twins finished their antibiotics for ear infections and Devin neared the end of his antibiotics (which, by the way, were so "heavy duty" that our pharmacist told us not to pour it down the sink because it could harm the ecosystem. And I'm putting this in my child's body???), I thought to myself, "Well maybe we'll all be healthy for awhile."

I'm here to warn you: Don't tempt the fates.

Around 10:30 yesterday morning, I took the girls upstairs for their morning naps. As I was coming downstairs to get some work done and spend time with Devin, I misjudged our stairs and took a spill. I slid down a couple of steps (three or four at most) and landed on my bottom without much grace (the virtue, not the child). In the process of doing this, though, I also twisted my right ankle in a way that made it make a crunching noise so loud it echoed.

I yelled. Loudly. Not only out of pain, but out of fear, too. I sat on the stairs and screamed out for a few seconds before I told my very frightened toddler to please bring the me phone. I was panting from the pain and I was very lightheaded, but I managed to call Todd. When he picked up, all I could say was, "Todd, come home. I think I broke my ankle." I hated to look at my ankle, but I did and I was shocked to see how swollen it had gotten so quickly.

My fantastic husband hopped into his car and headed home. At that moment, the phone rang. I saw that it was my friend, Sheena, and I picked it up and told her what was going on. She helped to calm me down and Devin, being the precious little thing that he is, brought me his "boo boo ice pack" from the fridge. I hobbled to one of our living room chairs and sat down. I called my neighbor, Susan, and asked if she could watch the kids while Todd took me to the emergency room. She immediately came over and soon after she arrived, my doorbell rang again. This time, it was my friend Leslie. Leslie had apparently talked to Sheena who had told her what was going on with me. Leslie was in her car, so she rushed over to make sure I was taken care of as I waited for Todd to come home.

You know how I talk all about how I have such incredible friends? This is a perfect example. Susan has three kids, Sheena has three, including a newborn and Leslie has three, also, with a six-month-old. These women are busy with their own lives, but they dropped what they were doing to make sure I was okay. How could I ask for more?

Anyway, Todd got home and we trekked to the emergency room. By the time we got in there, I was feeling pretty sick to my stomach and even a little faint, so I was taken into a room very quickly. Vitals were taken and I was taken in for three x-rays.

Turns out my ankle was not broken, although it was very severly sprained. I was sent home with some Vicodin and a big, ugly brace.

The ankle is still pretty swollen -- in fact, it's more swollen today than it was yesterday. And it hurts pretty badly. I'm a little concerned, truth be told...I've never had a sprain feel this painful.

The weekend goes on from there when we headed to Todd's hometown of Yoakum for their annual Tom-Tom Festival. In my next post, I'll write more about the festival and my not one but two puking incidents in the car ride there.

Sounds like something to really look forward to, huh?

A soap opera. I'm telling you. But you can't make this stuff up...my life is way better than fiction!

Have a great rest of the weekend...

E

Old Friends, New Friends

We have had the best week! On Tuesday, my good friend, Christi, and her son, Connor, came into town. Christi and I have been friends since the 8th grade (which we calculated was 18 years ago...how is that possible? Aren't I only 22 years old? Oh, I'm not?) and while we lost track of one another during college, we reconnected last year and realized that, even after all these years, we still have so much in common, including our three-year-old sons and reciprocal memberships at the Houston and San Antonio zoo.

And all of those points-in-common meant one thing: Road Trip.

Connor and Christi made their way from Houston to San Antonio, arriving in the Alamo City around 2:00 on Tuesday. We introduced the boys and while they got to know one another and play, Christi and I caught up on life in general. We email all the time and saw one another back in November, but there's nothing like being able to sit down on the couch and just talk.

That evening, Todd got home from work and Christi, Connor, Devin and I departed for our double date. We drove downtown to the Riverwalk and decided to party like rock stars -- we dined at the Hard Rock Cafe.

After dinner, we took a walk along the river and took a boat tour of the Riverwalk.

It was late, so we headed home to get a good night's sleep before our big day at the zoo the following day.

We woke up Wednesday morning and had breakfast - my very special Mickey Mouse waffles (this is where Christi said to me, "You all have a Disney problem around here, don't you? I love it!" She really is a girl after my own heart...). My across-the-street neighbor came to babysit Faith and Grace and the four of us were off again for another adventure.

Our zoo membership served us well as we just waltzed in without having to stand in line. Christi and Connor got in for 1/2 price because of their affiliation with the Houston zoo. Not too shabby!

We spent the day oohing and ahhing over all sorts of great animals -- from the pink flamingos and grizzly bears, to the bigest Gila Monster you've ever seen and a tent full of butterflies (Devin did not like that much...he asked to leave. Oh, and ZZ, beware...there is a picture of a big, blue butterfly below).

Christi even bought the boys some temporary tattoos...they thought they were the coolest.

We returned home hot, sweaty and hungry, so we had lunch and the boys played outside.

But all good things must come to an end and Wednesday afternoon, Christi and Connor left to return to Houston to see the rest of their family -- husband and daddy, Shawn, and brother and son, Foster.

We just had the best time. It was great to catch up with Christi and to see our little boys playing so well together was like seeing the circle of life complete itself. Christi and I were friends as kids and now our kids are friends. It was pretty amazing.

Here are some photos from our adventure. Christi is quite the scrapbooker and therefore sees photo opportunities that I would otherwise miss. Thanks for the fun, you two! We can't wait to come see you all!

The boys meet and hit it off immediately


Heading out for our double date


Connor and Christi at the Hard Rock Cafe. Dinner would not have been complete without swash-buckling hats and swords


The boys at the river. Check out Connor's awesome pants. I am going to run out and buy some for Devin. I love them!


At the bear exhibit at the zoo


It would have been better if we could have seen Connor's adorable smile, too, but I couldn't resist posting this one because Devin just looks so cute!


Connor and a gorgeous butterfly. I love this photo...


The boys on the giant Gila Monster sculpture. The live one we saw inside was roughly this big!



We found a really cool pathway of rocks over water! The boys thought it was great!


My tough guy


Connor's a tough guy, too!


Connor's bad-bottom face (c'mon...this is a family blog! What did you expect me to say?)

The Saga of the Size Nine-and-a-Half Foot...

Yes...it continues.

Yesterday, Devin spent most of the day in a Benadryl-induced nap. He dutifully kept his foot up on a pillow and I thought the swelling and redness were going down. I even felt confident enough to go over to my friend Meliza's house to practice for Mass on Sunday (I'm singing this weekend, soloing for the first time since high school. Wish me luck -- I'm nervous!). When I got home, Dev was still up, so I checked on his foot. I was astonished to find that the redness had spread a good half-inch to inch all the way around his foot. I'm no doctor, but I know this isn't good.

So I called Dr. Trexler (thank goodness she was on call last night) and she decided that Devin needed to go to the Emergency Room. I packed the munchkin, along with his favorite stuffed animal and his Buzz Lightyear toy, into the car and headed to the brand new pediatrics emergency room at our local hospital. I was very impressed! The place was awesome.

We were immediately taken to triage and then back to a room. Dr. Trexler had already called in to give them instructions for Devin, so it didn't take long for us to be seen by a doctor. He determined that we'd do just one round of IV antibiotics and be able to go home, barring only bad results from Devin's blood tests like a high white cell count or something of the sort.

Two nurses arrived to put the "straw" in Devin's arm. He was none-too-happy to be poked again and while he did scream bloody murder, he did not move an inch. He stayed perfectly still and they got the IV in easily. Then started the drip and we settled down to watch TV on the flat-panel, HDTV screen in our room. I told you this place was nice!

The drip lasted about 30 minutes and while we were relaxing together, the doctor informed us that D's white cell count was normal, meaning the infection was still localized just to his foot. That was the first good news I'd heard all day.

We finished the drip, signed our discharge papers and headed home.

This morning we saw Dr. T again and she's happy with the progress the foot-in-question is making. It's still a little red and swollen, but not like it was last night. We're going to continue on the oral antibiotics and keep an eye on it this weekend. Here's hoping against hope.

Of course, while were at the doctor's office, I noticed that Gracie had some red splotches on her neck. I looked into her onesie and saw hundreds of them all over her tummy. My question here was, "Are you kidding me???"

Luckily, Cheryl walked into the room and after she was done, she looked at Grace and determined that the viral infection she had was one that causes a high fever for three or four days and then manifests as a rash on the tummy and back. She had the classic sypmtoms and, luckily, there is no harm in this. In fact, by the time the rash shows up, it means that the period of time for being contagious is over. Whew!

So here's to hoping that we'll stay away from the doctor's office, the ER and other medically associated destinations. It will be nice to just "be" for awhile.

Have a happy, fun and safe Memorial Day weekend.

The Drama Continues...

Thought you'd heard the last of illness in the Pruetz house? Think again.

Yesterday was the girls' 12-month check up. Faith had started to feel better, but Gracie was in the middle of being as pathetic as any baby ever has. Sure enough, we spent a few minutes doing the check up stuff, like deveopmental milestones, height, weight, head circumference, etc. And then we moved onto the biggest problem at hand: infected ears and major fevers. I told our doctor about Faith's trips to the ER and to Good Night Pediatrics and about how only 24 hours later, Grace too came down with all the same symptoms.

Cheryl confirmed that there is indeed some nasty virus going around and that it was likely that both girls had caught it. She took a peek in Faith's ears to check on the status of the antibiotic. She said that Faith's ear drums were bulging, ready to burst, and that obviously, the Augmentin was not working. She looked at Grace's ears and while they were looking much better, they too seemed to be on their way to infection. So it was a new antibiotic for Faith and a first round for Grace. We went home with instructions to alternate Tylenol and Advil to keep Grace's fever down and to come back in a month to recheck height and weight (there was some concern that they are still so small, but their lack of recent weight gained may be due to the virus) and get their one-year shots. What fun!

Looking forward to getting back to normal, the three Pruetz girls returned home to greet Todd's sister, Jill, her boyfriend, Tom and Devin. It was great to see my doodlebug again.

I got to hear all about Devin's horseride in Concan and the slip he took on the rocks along the river's edge. He even showed me the cut in the webbing of his toes on his right foot. He was very proud of his war wound, but did complain that it hurt. I put some Neosporin on it and gave him some Advil for the pain. He ran off, seemingly fine.

This morning, he woke up complaining of the same thing. "My foot hurts," "It's hard to walk..." I took a look at the foot and, again, nothing was wrong. More Neosporin, more Advil. All was well.

But not really.

An hour later, I just happened to glance down at Devin's foot. It was enormous. It was swollen on top and around the toes. Jill also expressed concern because she had looked at it only an hour or so before, too, and it had seemed to have nothing wrong with it.

So off we went to Dr. Trexler's office. Again.

Cheryl walked in and laughed with me about how the Pruetz family is keeping Stone Oak Pediatrics in business. Devin took of his shoe for Dr. T and I was shocked -- it had suddenly become bright red and was starting to have striations around it. I looked at Cheryl and she did not look pleased.

She poked at Devin's foot, squeezed it and even had to touch at the wound (he did not like that). She drew a line around the red area to see if it would spread and how fast.

Then she broke the news: This was going to need some heavy-duty antibiotics, starting with a shot. Devin was not pleased to hear this.

After the doctor left the room, I talked to Devin about what was going to happen and why. He became very weepy and said he didn't want the shot. I asked him why and he said, "Becuase if I have to pull down my pants, everyone will laugh." Oh it just broke my heart -- my baby showed his first signs of embarassment regarding his "private" parts.

The nurse soon came in and I started to help D pull his shorts down. He fought and fought and fought me and when I finally got them down, he curled up in a ball and refused to get up on the table. I had to put him up there, get him on his tummy and sit on him to allow the nurse a good shot of his rear end (no pun intended).

And then the screaming commenced. It was so loud it reverberated off the walls. It made my ears ring. It was one of the loudest noises I have ever heard.

After a lot of struggle, the shot was administered and immediately a blue bruise popped up. The nurse brought an ice-pack and a popsicle for Devin. So there stood my little boy, shorts around his ankles, Superman underwear pulled down past one little red cheek and while I held ice on the site of the shot, the Doodlebug sucked on an a frozen confection. Can you imagine anything more pathetic? It was pretty sad.

Before we left, we were told that we would need to return tomorrow to see Dr. T again, in an effort to make sure that the antibiotics were working well. If they were not, Devin would need to be admitted to the hospital for IV drugs.

I'm happy to report, as my little guy snoozes on the couch, that the foot is already looking better. We haven't even picked up the oral antibiotic yet, but the redness has gone away and the swelling is going down. Devin was told to keep his foot up all day and stay in bed or on the couch. I told Cheryl, "Tell me another!"

I did give Devin some Benadryl, though, for the welt the shot left, and that put him down for a pretty good nap. He has his foot propped up on a pillow, so I guess we're doing pretty well, despite the difficulty my little one has with sitting still.

I'll post a report here tomorrow on the status of the puffy foot.

Me