Rachel Coleman

At the beginning of 2010 I set a goal to complete my first triathlon and to run two half-marathons. (I like to do my marathons one half at a time.) And while I was setting goals, I decided to go for breaking my personal record of running 13.1 miles in 2:05:02. This year I will break the 2-hour mark.

Do I really think life is going to simply unfold just the way I plan it? You would think by now that I would know better than that.

Here’s what happened…

My 11-year-old nephew Alex (yep, that’s the Alex you all know and love) joined a Run Club. He began running three days a week after school with trainer Kasey Payzant and her club, which includes about twenty-five kids, ages six to eighteen. Then… my 13-year-old daughter Leah joined. Most of the parents drop their kids off to run for an hour, and pick their kids up later. That’s fine for most parents, especially since the Run Club is geared toward kids, but my husband Aaron and I like to do things a little different so we asked if “big kids” like us, could join too.

By the time we joined, many of the kids in Run Club had already committed to running the Salt Lake City Half-Marathon in April. Aaron and I were already registered. Last year, Aaron and I ran two half-marathons and we crossed the finish line before our two daughters, sleeping soundly at home, had even woken up. Come to think of it, we go to the gym when our kids are at school. Aaron and I often hit the ski slopes right after the bus picks up Lucy for school in the morning. My kids haven’t seen and may not even know about most of the physical activity and training that goes on in their parents’ lives!

And then… Kasey, our trainer, did something I had never thought to do. She asked Leah if she would like to run the Salt Lake City Half-Marathon too. Leah said, “Yes!” and she was excited about it. I was a little shocked! I don’t think I had run more than a mile until I was an adult. Leah eagerly jumped into the training schedule and so far, every week we have been running together in snow, wind or rain. The Run Club motto for this year is “I can be content in any situation.” That goes for running 8 laps to reach 4 miles (*boring*) or running through hilly neighborhoods with snow catching on your eyelashes which is kind of cool and distracting.

My first race was a full marathon and I had trained for it by following a book. But as for my half-marathons… well, I didn’t really train for them. I had been doing cardio and strength training three times a week, but I wasn’t following a program to build miles. (I don’t recommend you follow the Rachel Coleman Half-Marathon-Lack-of-Training Plan.) But once we joined Run Club, we had a real, live trainer! She has been working with kids for over ten years, helping them strengthen and condition for races.

So, now we run on Monday, Wednesday and Friday. On Friday we have our long run. Leah’s cheeks are red, her hair is damp and every time she completes her mileage she stops to go through her stretching routine and says, “Wow! I just ran ___ (4, 5, 6, 7) miles. I am so proud of myself!”

What an experience at age thirteen to know that you can run for an hour straight. You can run 7 miles. You can run it with a smile. Your body is strong! I am so proud of Leah!

But when Leah decided to register and join us for the upcoming race, I had to take another look at my 2010 goals. Would I rather break my personal time record… or would I rather cross the finish line with my 13-year-old daughter?

Aaron typically completes the assigned miles first. I finish about 10 minutes behind him. Alex and Leah finish about 10 minutes behind me. It’s been going this way, week after week. If I run with Leah, I will not likely break my personal record, but I will share a moment, unlike any other with my daughter.

A few weeks ago while we were running Leah said, “Mom, I know there will be a lot of people in the race, so how will I find you and Dad when I finish?” I told her, “You won’t have to look far, Leah. I’ll be right there with you. We can even hold hands as we cross the finish line.”

If Leah wasn’t thrilled at the prospect of holding hands with her mom, she didn’t let on. For all I know, she was thinking, “Hold my hand? Why don’t you just run your own pace and break your personal record? Oh, well. If it will make my mom happy… I’ll hold her hand.”

For me there was one thing… one thing I really wanted to accomplish just to prove to myself that I was still alive. Sure I was married, I had kids, and I had a company, but I wanted to work toward something for me. Just for me.

It was 2003 and the conversation with my husband went like this, “Hey, Aaron. If you buy me an iPod, I’ll run a marathon.” (Silence)
“Are you serious?” he asked.
“Yeah. Why not?” I answered.

Within a matter of days I came home and found a brand new iPod on our bed. He took the bait… and I had something to shoot for, plus I had a promise to fulfill.

I need motivation. I do. I need deadlines, and registration fees, and pressure. I need accountability. I ran a 10K once, but other than that, when I started training for that marathon I had never participated in any other sporting or racing event, by choice, in my entire life. I don’t even have one of those soccer trophies that seem to come with a good American childhood.

As a kid, I hated physical education. I thought it was torturous. Really? Can’t we just skip my turn at bat, or do I have to go through striking out and total humiliation in front of my peers?

Read more…

Every year, especially around the time of my wedding anniversary, I hear comments about how X percentage of couples that have one child with a disability, get divorced. And how Aaron and I have truly beaten the odds by having a marriage survive this long with both of our children having disabilities.

I don’t care much for statistics- I’ve shared before that one in one thousand children are born profoundly deaf AND one in one thousand children are born with Spina bifida. Aaron and I got one of each… go figure. I am no expert in statistics, but from what I hear the likelihood of getting two – one in one thousands is actually- one in a million. There’s something about that that makes me smile. (Dear stat experts, if it’s not true, don’t burst my bubble… just keep it to yourselves)

I do like to think we have somehow beaten the odds. But, I don’t want to lead you astray either. See, it has not always been pink and rosy. No actually there were years… YEARS and YEARS where when we were asked how we manage it all, the answer was this, “Well, neither one of us wants to do this alone.” (Not super inspiring is it?) Even three years ago, if you had asked how Aaron and I “keep it all together” I would have told you, “Neither one of us wants to do this alone.”

Read more…

Is it cheating to write a blog, post it elsewhere, and then link to it from your main blog? No. I think not and so I shall. You know how I don’t send Christmas cards, well I don’t send Birthday cards either, this is all I’ve got.
GO! Click! Read!

From Rachel: Happy Birthday Emilie!
I was four years old and she was eight when we decided that we were best friends.

“You’re my best,” she said.

“You’re my best, too.” I answered.

And that’s how it was.

In some ways it was a simple rendition of the reality-TV show Survivor – Emilie and I had an early alliance. We had to, you see; in a family of nine kids, there were ongoing battles with the other siblings, and even though it seemed that it might be easier at times to join forces with the stronger ones, Emilie and I instinctively stuck together.

I was good at flying under the radar. Emilie was not…

(Seriously! Click now!)

Every year I think about sending a Christmas card… but, I don’t do it.

The last time I sent out a Christmas card, it was 1996 and it looked like this—

Yes, that is Leah. She’s a week old… well, not any more. She’s actually 13 and that photo just got me thinking that I should probably send out a card JUST so people know we don’t look like that AT ALL.

I am terrible at sending out Christmas cards. The worst part is, I WANT to be good at it. Every year I buy cards. Sometimes they even have the sticky place to put a photo, because I fool myself into believing I might really pull that off too!

My cousin Jen has it down. Hers is always the first card I receive each year. She must do them while we are all taking our turkey induced nap on Thanksgiving.

Perhaps, I should pride mine in being the LAST card people receive… or as reality would have it, the last card they don’t receive. (sigh) I am not good at the Christmas card thing and I should accept it.

Please don’t suggest I email a card, because really… emailed Christmas cards don’t even count! That’s all I am going to say about that.

This year, I sat down with Aaron and mused at the possibility of writing one of those AWESOME Family Christmas Letters. Now there’s a commitment!! I secretly believe some marriages end over those annual productions. I opened the 2009 calendar to see if I could remember what we actually did this year. GAH! First of all, my calendar is 4 feet wide and 3 feet high. The boxes are crammed full of appointments, flight numbers, and the school holidays are highlighted, so we don’t forget and accidentally drop our children off. I could hardly decipher the information, let alone organize it and make it sound lovely.

I tried to conjure something up from the top of my head but the good was TOO good and the bad TOO bad. Read more…

The Storm- Before The Quiet- Before The Storm

We had come back from a chilly, rainy day at the ransacked beach to find that something was different. The sliding glass doors that open to the hotel room balcony had been taped, not taped shut, but taped with giant asterisks of packing tape.

The wind had picked up. It had rained daily. (At least it was consistent) Of course we were hoping for better weather. But, since this was supposed to be a business retreat, maybe it was best that it was cool and windy and pouring rain.

Then there was a knock at the door. FYI- I don’t speak much Spanish. I opened the door and was handed two styrofoam “to-go” containers. “Gracias.” I said. It sounded like a question coming out of my mouth.

“Did you order room service?” I hollered to Aaron. He walked out of the bedroom and Leah followed. I held up the containers. We all sat near Lucy and opened them. They each contained a croissant, a box of orange juice, a bottle of water, an apple, a baggy of frosted flakes, a package of jam, a triangle shaped hash brown and a small danish roll. None of the food was hot. Each was wrapped in plastic-wrap.

My children looked at each other and said. “Ew!” I closed up the boxes and went down the hall to see if Emilie’s family and my dad had received the same. They had. FYI- They both speak Spanish. “They are rations, emergency food supply. The storm is becoming a hurricane.” Em explained.

I returned to my room to batten down the hatches, so to speak. Noticing, as I went, that doorways were now blocked by bags of sand. The same bags of sand we had seen earlier on the ransacked beach. “Stay back waves! Stay back!” but the waves didn’t listen. The waves just washed over those sandbags, laughing and mocking as they rolled.

“Why are those inside?” Leah asked, pointing to the patio furniture that had been on the balcony. Two chairs and a small table were now positioned at the foot of her bed. “I guess they brought them in so they don’t blow around and break the windows.” I suggested.

That night the wind HOWLED. The tops of the palm trees danced HORIZONTALLY against the sky. Lightning LIT UP the room in spite of the blackout curtains. Thunder THREATENED to break the sky in two.

Aaron, Leah, Lucy and I all snuggled together in the king sized bed. Leah slept like a rock, nothing wakes her… nothing. Lucy startled at each sound, her legs pulling up to her chest. I tried pinning her legs between mine. It didn’t help much.

Finally we slept. No windows were broken. No cold hash browns were eaten.
The storm passed quite uneventfully.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ THE QUIET ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Before arriving in Cancun, Aaron and I had been using “swimming with dolphins” as bait for Lucy to improve her behavior at school. Lucy took the bait… well, at least she took it just enough that we had to keep our side of the deal. We went to the concierge to make the arrangements. Leah and everyone else had been able to swim with dolphins the year that Lucy and I went on the submarine.

The concierge was soon on the phone, scheduling a van to pick us up the following morning. He covered the receiver and said, “I am sorry, I know this is taking a long time, but… well… asking them to pick up a wheelchair… it’s sort of a… it’s a special request. You understand?” I smiled, “Oh, we understand.” And then I added under my breath, ” You might say our whole life is ‘sort of a special request.’”

The following morning, the van picked us up. Lucy and I would swim with dolphins… rain, or shine, or hurricane.

“Excuse me. How old are you?” The woman’s question broke through Lucy’s screams. We had boarded the plane, found our seats and begun doing homework, at Lucy’s request. Luce was in the window seat; I was in the middle, and Leah on the aisle. Aaron was seated a handful of rows behind us in the emergency exit row. Most planes don’t have the legroom for a guy who is 6 foot 5. I have my own complaints, like, my feet don’t reach the floor, my legs swing like a toddler, and by the time we land my knees hurt and my feet are swollen, but that’s nothing compared to flying with your knees smashed against the seat in front of you. (So I hear)

We were finishing up math, only 2 pages left of a week’s worth of homework. This was our flight home from Cancun and the last chance to wrap it up before she returned to school tomorrow. We did the first problem together. Lucy was doing the math, I was writing in her answers… and then… well, to be completely honest, I have no idea what set her off. “What makes Lucy cry and scream?” <—that my friends is the million dollar question.

Something happened… or maybe nothing happened. Someone coughed? Cleared their throat? Slammed a door? A baby cried? The wind changed? Everything. Nothing. The tirade began. Ear piercing, high pitched, screaming, that went something like this, “I HATE YOU! YOU NEVER HELP ME! YOU’RE STUPID! STUPID! YOU’RE A TERRIBLE MOMMY! YOU NEVER LISTEN TO ME! I HATE Y-OOOOOOOOU! (Repeat, non-stop… for 45 solid minutes)

She started her rant before they closed the airplane door. She continued through the safety announcements and hadn’t let up by the time we were allowed to use electronic devices and were free to move about the cabin. 10,000 feet of screams.

There is nothing I can say to stop her, no threat. No look. No words. My response or reaction just makes it escalate. I put on my sunglasses and my headphones and am surprised at how the music drowns out my daughter’s screams. I pop one headphone out and announce loudly, “I hope you all brought headphones!” What else can I do? Then put the headphone back in place. This infuriates Lucy all the more. She takes it up a notch from ear piercing to shrill. All the while at top of her lungs.

People throughout the plane are shooting hateful glares and glances our way. I can hear their helpful advice, “If that were my child, I would smack her!” Do you know how much self-restraint it takes to keep from throttling her? Do you? I put her in one room and I go in another room and I cry. I don’t know how to break her. In so many ways, she’s already broken. What’s left to take away? “That’s it! No walking for you!”

I’m sure the people on the plane were questioning my parenting skills. Hey, let’s be honest- I question my parenting skills. No one has ever had a “Lucy” before and she didn’t come with a manual. “What to Expect When You’re Expecting” didn’t include anything about fetal surgery for spina bifida. I threw that book away. “What to Expect in the First Year” had nothing about a child who screams for their first 9 months, almost dies in your arms and has sensory issues that cause her to startle and cry like a newborn until age 7. She has managed to knock out the cry now, but the startle still sends her reeling. She’ll tip right over if we cough without warning and with the cold and flu season escalating, there is no safe place for this child. Oh, please don’t exclaim in front of my child, happy- “WOW!” sad- “SHOOT!” or otherwise. You’ll see the startle, then you’ll apologize for it, just drawing more attention to the thing she can’t control. She gets embarrassed and the whole thing snowballs. “Just keep swimming. Just keep swim-ming.”

“How old are you?” The question from the woman in the aisle, leaning in over Leah, surprises Lucy and Lucy shuts her trap and tucks her chin in embarrassment. This must be my guardian angel! I half wonder if Aaron enrolled her in helping me out, sending her from the back (he didn’t). I smile at the woman. Lucy won’t answer. “She’s nine years old!” I draw it out, grinning.

“Nine? You are nine? I was pretty sure that noise was coming from a child who was only two or three years old… you are nine?” Her voice was more stern than angry, but tinged with a tiny bit of compassion… tiny… or maybe she was just tired. “Do you realize you are acting like a two-year-old?” The stranger continued, Lucy still doesn’t answer and doesn’t look up. “There’s an entire group of us in the back of the plane, we are all tired and trying to sleep and you are REALLY disturbing us. The noise is unbearable and the entire plane can hear you. You need to stop this nonsense and be nice to your mother.”

I smiled at the woman. I was really thankful. It takes someone else, someone Lucy doesn’t know. There is nothing I can say to stop her. Besides, she’s heard it all from me a million times before.

The woman returned to her seat. Lucy looked up at me and said, “I’m ready to finish my homework.” We finished both pages and for the remainder of the flight, 3 hours, Lucy was absolutely pleasant.

“Did you send that lady up to save me?” I asked Aaron after we landed in Phoenix. “No! I saw her get up and talk to you guys. What did she say?” I replayed the encounter for Aaron, who, like me, smiled.

We made our way through the terminal. Found our gate and plopped down. Quite some time later, the woman from the plane showed up and sat on the row directly behind us. I didn’t notice, until Aaron said, “I guess you didn’t get enough of us on the plane!” She turned around and looked surprised.

Then she started, earnest, but hushed, so Lucy couldn’t hear her, “I am soooooooo sorry! I shouldn’t have said anything. After I sat down, I saw you guys signing and I realized that maybe the little girl was deaf and then when you got off the plane I saw that you put her in a wheelchair!!! …And I thought, ‘Oh great! I am going to Hell!’- I should have kept my big mouth shut!” I stopped her, “No. No. I was SO glad you said something. I actually thought my husband sent you up to save me! No one ever says anything! They don’t dare say anything! They look at us like they hate us, but they don’t say anything. The flight attendants see us board with the wheelchair, so they don’t even say anything because they KNOW she has disabilities.”

Once, a flight attendant actually got into it with a passenger who had turned around and “SHHHHHushed” Lucy! That flight attendant started hollering, “That child has disabilities, you don’t treat her that way!” and the passenger shot right back, “I’ve worked with kids with disabilities and THAT child knows better!” And mostly, I just wished a hole would open in the plane and drop me out somewhere far below the two strangers arguing over my child’s deplorable behavior…

“But you were right,” I continued, “there is no reason for Lucy to act that way, disability or not, it doesn’t work. Clearly it doesn’t work for anyone on the plane!”

I gave her the short version of The Traveling Coleman Family Circus- Leah is deaf. Lucy has spina bifida and cerebral palsy. We all sign. Lucy seems to have some sensory issues, caused by cerebral palsy; her nervous system seems underdeveloped in some ways, even though she has a completely capable and brilliant mind. No, there has not been an official diagnosis other than CP and spina bifida, no, I don’t know if there is medication that could reduce Lucy’s sensitivities. And thank you again for having the guts to say something!

We boarded the next flight, heading home to Salt Lake City. This time I was flying with a plan. Aaron was far behind me getting Lucy out of her wheelchair and gate checking it. I knew Lucy was safely out of earshot, “Excuse me…” I said to the woman just ahead of me in the aisle, “Hi there, ummm… this may sound odd, but I was wondering if you’d do me a favor… If my child starts acting like a turd, would you please come over and sternly ask her to cut it out? Thanks.”

Today is a special day, a special day it’s true! October 9th, is my birthday!

I giggled when I opened my email and received a “Happy Birthday” message from Signing Time, because when I opened that email, I got to see me… singing, and signing to… me. Trust me, it’s a little surreal sometimes.

This year I am 35 whopping years old. Can I get a “whoop whoop!”
I just got back from Washington D.C. and honestly have been traveling so much that I forgot it was my birthday. Leah was in D.C. with me and asked, “Mom, are you excited for the day after tomorrow?” I had no idea what she meant, “Am I excited for Friday? Sure! Who doesn’t love the weekend?”

As far as I know, I currently have no birthday plans, other than unpacking my bags and doing some laundry (hint, hint Aaron) So, I am having a sale! (It’s easier than having a party… very little clean up with a sale) And you my friend, you are invited!

The details came out in the Signing Time Newsletter. (Join it if you haven’t already)

I can’t remember a time we’ve had a sale this big, but then again I have never been this old… so who knows!

The coupon code is in the message below. Feel free to share the video with others, so they can celebrate too. And remember, when October 9th is over… so is the sale!

Visit the Signing Time Store to use the coupon.

La-di-da-di Happy Birthday, Happy Birthday All Day Long!

Ever start writing a blog and just end up boring yourself? I’ve had 2 sitting on my desktop with no compelling reason to complete them. They’re just not good.

So, instead I am going to invite you to check out Oregon with me!

I flew in to Portland on Thursday night. Lindsey (remember her?) was flying in a few hours later, since she had a college class that she just couldn’t miss. I never fly in on the last flight of the day, because if it is cancelled, or I miss it, well, there is no Signing Time event the next day. So, I took and earlier flight and Linds took the last flight.

It’s been awhile since I traveled with Lindsey. Luckily, Lindsey was able to come along, since it is just too early to leave Lucy with a sitter. Lucy was only 2 weeks post-op.

Lucy’s surgeries went really well!

She had three procedures and it took 6 hours. She is very resilient.

For this Oregon trip, Aaron stayed home with Leah and Lucy.

While waiting for Lindsey’s flight to arrive, I knew I would have about 4 hours to kill… so I picked up a ticket to see The Killers, who were playing that very night. (Yay for me!) No, I am not afraid of going to concerts or movies by myself.

The show was amazing. It is my goal to get Baby Signing Time to the lead singer, Brandon Flowers, he has a newborn and a toddler and I would love for them to sign with me… since my family sings along with him.

After the show, I picked up Lindsey and we dove 80 miles to Cannon Beach. We checked in and hit the sack. The bummer with driving in the middle of the night is you miss the beauty.

In the morning we met up with Debbie, whose organization brought us out there, and we had brunch at a place called Wanda’s. This was the first of many AMAZING meals we would have on this trip. I had oatmeal… oatmeal… and it knocked my socks off. I mean really, how often can you say you’ve had an amazing bowl of oatmeal? … Me neither! Though, you are more likely thinking, “You ordered oatmeal? Who orders oatmeal?” I do. Okay? I order oatmeal.

Next we visited Nehalem Elementary School. I shared a sign language story time with the Life Skills Class. Then did a Signing Time Assembly for the entire school.

It was still fairly early in the day, so Linds and I drove back to our inn and threw on our swimsuits (silly California girl!) and hopped back into our PT Cruiser and started driving the coast. We pulled over to get our toes in the sand.

We always ask the locals for dinner recommendations and this time we were pointed toward “The best seafood!” a restaurant called Pirate’s Cove.

Need I say more?

We drove back to the inn, stopping to pick wild blackberries and raspberries that seemed to run rampant everywhere we looked.

The following morning was the Buddy Walk at the Beach, in Seaside. The weather was perfect. The walk was just the right length.

I got to meet Lucy’s personal Fan Club, little Dru.

Then it was time to walk.

We all gathered for a photo on the stairs that lead to the beach. It felt like a “Where’s Waldo” scene, since most everyone had their Buddy Walk shirts on and I was wearing my signature orange.

Lucy’s buddy, Josiah and his family were there. You may have seen Josiah in “The Great Outdoors” exploring on his crutches or smiling next to Lucy. Josiah and Lucy go WAY back. Josiah’s mom, Gina, was the 77th fetal surgery for spina bifida patient and Lucy and I were the 82nd patients. While on bed rest we got to know each other and kept tabs on the progress of these special kids.

We all made our way to the Convention Center where my Signing Time performance would be. Before singing Caterpillar Dreams, I introduced Josiah to everyone. It was sweet to see him on the screen behind me and to see how much he has grown since we filmed those scenes.

When most everyone had left, I noticed some bumper boats for rent nearby. Lindsey and I put everything in the car and then ran down to rent bumper boats.

There was an option to rent water guns as well. At first we loved the idea, but on second thought… that water looked uncomfortably brown.

We packed up and decided to drive some more. The landscape was eerily familiar and we realized that this must be where they filmed the movie Goonies.

A google search later that evening confirmed that hunch. For what it’s worth Kindergarten Cop was also filmed in that area.

After that we went to the Tillamook Cheese Factory for grilled cheese sandwiches and ice cream cones.

We toured the factory and of course tried out the samples. My favorite? Horseradish Cheddar.

When the factory closed, we drove to Portland, since we were flying out in the morning.

I love Oregon! I know, I have said it before, but I do. That place just speaks to my soul. The greens are so green! The landscape transitions so abrupt. Who puts a beach right next to a forest?

I have loved traveling for the Signing Time events in Salem and Klamath last year and when I was 19, my girl friend, Jessica and I had hopped in my VW Bus and drove to Eugene on a whim.

I am trying to figure out the best way to get more of Oregon? Should we take a week or two and drive the coast this summer? Camp? Camper? Bed & Breakfast? Should we move to the coast for a month? What is the best way to get more Oregon? Should I sign up for the STP 2010 (Seattle to Portland Bike Race).

I don’t know how, and I don’t know when, and even worse I don’t know why! Something is pulling me toward Oregon.

We’re still in Yellowstone, remember?

When we arrived in Mammoth, we saw elk, everywhere.

We hiked the terraces of Mammoth Hot Springs.

The terraces look like ice and snow. Very Superman, don’t you think?

We decorated our pancakes.

We watched Old Faithful and other geysers erupt.

Leah and Lucy became Junior Rangers, with Yellowstone patches and all.

The trip was a complete success! We packed up on Saturday morning to head home… head home for surgery.

Lucy would be admitted on Monday in preparation for surgery on Tuesday. We had it all planned out, remember?

Maybe it was scheduled too tightly. Lucy had to start a clear liquid diet the day we drove home from Yellowstone. Not so yummy. Chicken broth, sprite, juices, Jell-o and that’s about it. She would have a second day of clear liquids and then she would go into the hospital. Well, that didn’t go so well. She got sick. Really sick. I would prefer any one of us get sick, anyone other than Lucy.

Late Saturday night, I was asleep, and I heard Lucy cough. I sat up in bed, “Luce, you ok?” And then I heard it “RAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”
This is not good. Lucy can’t roll over. She can’t sit up. She could choke… aspirate… When Lucy is sick, we are all on high alert, until the threat has passed.

I sprung from bed (truly I sprung, you should have seen it!) I hollered, “AARON!” as I ran. Then he sprung, because you spring when your wife screams your name as she tears down the hallway to your child’s room.

Then we spent the following 24 hours either right by Lucy’s side, or not far from it. It wasn’t pretty. Trust me. (This is the part where you are SO glad that blogs are not scratch and sniff.) Lucy, with the flu is a 4 man job. Someone to hold the bowl. Someone to hold her up. Someone to hold her head up as her little body is wracked. She burst blood vessels in her eyes, from retching so violently.

Poor Lucy. Was it the liquid diet? Stress over the upcoming surgery? Maybe she was just sick with the flu. I know the clear liquid diet was on her mind, because after she would hurl, she would look up at me, smile and announce, “Chicken Sliders! From The Cheesecake Factory!” She was having me make a list of things she wanted to eat once she had recovered from surgery. It was kind of pitiful, really. “RAAAAAAAAAH!…. Peanut Butter Cup Shake!”

She was so tiny, weak and pale… or seemed to be, until she hollered out her next dream food. “Cherry Cheesecake Ice Cream!”

Monday morning I called the hospital to let them know she had been sick. They asked me to bring her in for an evaluation to determine whether or not surgery should be canceled. We packed like we were going in for surgery and a week of recovery.

I told the doctor everything that had happened in the past 48 hours. Then he announced that it would be best to wait and reschedule the surgery.

Lucy had just completed 48 hours of eating nothing but clear liquids and ralphing them up again… and we would have to do it all over again in a few weeks, hopefully without the ralphing.

The doctor left the room. Lucy and I were both tired. She looked at me and said sadly, “But… mom, I’m ready. I’m ready to have surgery.” (Proof that reverse psychology actually works)

We hugged, and then, two very exhausted girls had a little cry.

Then we got our things and went home.

But wait, it can’t end there! That would never do!
(Kei, put away your Kleenex!!!)
As soon as Lucy felt well enough to eat Chicken Sliders from The Cheesecake Factory, which was within a few short hours of canceling her surgery, I booked flights to San Diego!

Early Wednesday morning Lucy, her cousin Clara, and I flew to California and went straight to Sea World for three days!

Lucy and Clara giggled non-stop… for three days! On the flight home, Lucy smiled and said, “Hey mom! That was WAY better than surgery!” Once again, Lucy is right.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
P.S. Lucy will start her liquid diet this Saturday. Aaron, Leah and I will join her on the liquid diet for support. The plan is that Lucy will be admitted to the hospital this Monday…

Plans are overrated.

We might just no-show and go to Sea World again!