Sydney's September POTD

She was rather mad at me for taking so long to retrieve her.

I know she looks like a drunk but first of all, those are all non-alcoholic and secondly, I have to keep everything close to me or Brigitta rips into it. 

Sweetly dreaming

Participating in a child development study at the University of Chicago. She earned $30 towards college that day!

 I lose.

Apple Picking

Ireland's class had a field trip to the Royal Oak Apple Orchard which parents were invited to, but siblings were not. As we are still new in the area, I don't know anyone well enough to leave my youngest two for the better part of a day. It pained me to think of Ireland missing out on the field trip so we decided to go as a family instead. 

Is it just me or are the best apples near the top of the tree? The following day Brent mentioned his back was unusually sore. I wonder why...

An unsuccessful attempt at a group shot of the girls:

At the store, they sold fresh, hot apple spice donuts. They smelled positively divine!

Brigitta didn't waste any time devouring hers.

This orchard was really fantastic. I found a really great recipe for apple crisp that uses chopped nuts instead of oats (which soak up the juices and never really gets "crisp"y). Even though the weather has been sunny and warm, apple picking put me firmly in fall mode.

Perhaps we'll make this a yearly tradition?

What Child IS This?

This:

This:

And THIS:

'Nuff said.

Matters of the Heart

My blogging has been rather stilted lately. 

As is usually the case, a lot has happened. I mean, A LOT. Enough to rock my world. I received a call on Wednesday morning from Reagan who was in tears. She asked me if I'd read Mom's email.  I hadn't-- I was in the throws of a particularly trying morning routine. That routine came to a screeching halt when I logged in to my email and read the following message from Mom:

Dearest Children, 

In anticipation of our return home through Israel next month, your dad checked in with the Area doctor, Bruce Barton, about his concern that he couldn't "walk too far without getting winded." There is considerable walking on the tour to Israel.

Dr. Barton referred your dad to a doctor Milne who performed an EKG, a stress test, and some blood work. Those proved inconclusive, so he had him return to the hospital this morning for an angiogram, where they shoot dye into the arteries to check for any blockage.

The result showed one artery was blocked 99% and another was blocked 70%. He was a walking heart-attack-ready-to-happen. It's a miracle they found it in time. This
is nothing they can fix with an angioplasty "balloon" procedure.

Therefore, he is scheduled for double-bypass open-heart surgery tomorrow morning. We realize there is nothing you can do from so far away, but we felt you needed to be informed, and we are asking for your faith and prayers on his behalf. Good mission friends are going over this evening to give him a blessing, and we have every assurance all will go well. He has a positive attitude and says, "let's get after it!"

The good news is South Africa is on the leading edge of cardio treatment. The first heart transplant took place in Cape Town, and they have the best specialists and equipment right here. Dr. Barton says,"this is the best place in the world for this type of treatment." 

We anticipate a 7-10 day hospital stay post-surgery, and then 4 weeks recovery before he can travel, and six weeks for full recovery. By then, we will be released from our mission and fly directly home..no London, no Israel. Dr. Barton will try to get us a direct flight.

I'll be back and forth to the hospital in the next few days, but I'll email you immediately with any fast-breaking news. Email will be the best way to get ahold of me for the time being. Your dad asked me to be sure and send you his love.

Love, Mom

The news hit me in a powerful wave. Reagan's tears made sense. I searched my heart for answers and immediately felt a calm. Dad would be fine. I assured Reagan as much. Honestly, I don't remember much else from that conversation. I do remember having similar conversations with the rest of my siblings and then my Dad's sisters. Going into each phone call, I tried to downplay it as much as possible but that didn't always work. A double bypass isn't exactly "routine" and we all know there are no guarantees when it comes to major surgery. Still, I felt deep in my bones he would be fine. This is not how Batman dies. I later learned Dad's situation was so tenuous, he wasn't even allowed to walk down the hall. He was literally a heart attack waiting to happen. 

I woke up on Thursday morning knowing Dad's heart was stopped. Brent urged me to get more rest as it was going to be another day full of phone calls and emails. I knew that wasn't going to happen. Somehow I felt selfish sitting there in my warm bed with my heart easily beating away. Dad was on an operating table being kept alive via machine. 

It wasn't long before I began receiving the phone calls, text messages and emails. Any word? In times of uncertainty, I find what people crave the most is information. Somehow knowledge is soothing when one's hands are tied. Having been the caretaker of Mom and Dad's house, I was in constant contact with them. Usually we would use the Vonage app to face-time but Dad is the tech in the marriage and I was confident Mom didn't know how to use the app. Luckily, I also had their direct number. After a few attempts, I finally got a hold of her. She wasn't supposed to be using her cell phone in the hospital. She'd been with Dad in recovery and he was fine. The surgeon said Dad has a "strong heart". Mom sounded so very tired; she hadn't slept since they found out Dad needed surgery. But she was doing OK and was audibly relieved it was over. 

As soon as I got off the phone, I furiously texted my brothers and sisters. I called Logan who requested I do so. Then I called my aunts. As the information disseminated through the lines of communication the family had set up, I finally stopped for a moment and let it sink in. 

It was over. And Dad was just fine. 

Thank God for miracles. 

Ireland's First Day of School

She wandered into our room at 2:30 AM and announced she needed to get ready to go to preschool. When Brent told her it was waaayaaayaaay too early and ordered her back to bed, she sobbed. At 5:30 AM he relented and let her take a shower. I tried to keep her busy all morning. I explained repeatedly it was only going to be for 1 hour on her first day. But the impatience of a 4 year old simply cannot be restrained. At long last, it was time to go.

Although I understand the purpose of having parents along on the first day of school, I knew it really wouldn't be necessary for Ireland. While all (and I do mean ALL) the other parents hovered over their children, I took a seat along the wall of the room and let Ireland do her thing. She dived right in, not once looking around to see if I was even there.

Ireland was excited to see a butterfly marking her backpack hook.

I love how her little tongue comes out when she's focused on something.

With her teachers Mrs. Campos and Mrs. Martin. Turns out Mrs. Martin used to be a parole officer. I don't know why, but I love that! Ireland's not going to get away with ANYTHING this year! And yeah, I used enough printer ink on that sign, I was going to snap as many pics with it as possible.

As we headed home, Ireland expressed her disappointment at how short the time had been at preschool. We are both looking forward to the regular half-day schedule soon!