Friday, November 30, 2007

This rocks!

I spent the morning hooked to the machine, as usual, dozing through The Golden Girls. This afternoon, I waited and waited for the nurse coordinator to call me back to tell me how I'd done. When she hadn't called by 6 p.m., I went down to the Infusion Therapy Center for my scheduled injections, hoping maybe they'd be able to tell me my results. A nurse came out to the waiting room and told me I had a phone call. It was Joan, my very, very sweet nurse coordinator, who had some amazing news.

Today I collected .... 2.65 MILLION CELLS!!! WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!! This puts my total at 10.4 million, well over my goal of nine million. I am no longer a stem-cell loser. I am a stem-cell superstar!



I get all of the extra credit and two smiley faces!

As long as I was down at the Infusion Therapy Center, they said they could pull out my line right then. I was scared it was going to be a horribly painful procedure; after all, there was a 6-ish-inch line stuck in my neck. It didn't hurt at all. I lay down on a bed, and the nurse tilted it back so I was sort of standing on my head. He told me to take a deep breath, and then whipped it right out. It wasn't the least bit painful. Then I had to lie flat for about 20 minutes, and then I had to sit up for about 10 minutes and drink some juice. Then they sent me on my way. I have a giant bandage on my neck that has to stay on for 48 hours.

We're hoping to leave tomorrow, but it looks like we're in for some bad weather. We're hoping to leave really early and make it as far as my sister's house in Ames, Iowa and stay there until Sunday. We'll see how it goes.

Earlier today, WCK went to story time at Barnes and Noble, and they gave her a sticker that says, "This Rocks!" She decided to give it to me right before I left for the ITC. I stuck the sticker on the giant band-aid.

Thursday, November 29, 2007

... but this one goes to eleven.

The bad news: The line is still in my neck, and I don't get to come home tomorrow.

The good news: I'm not a stem-cell loser!

My CD34 is up to 11! Woo hoo! This means I can collect tomorrow. Most likely, I will collect for just one day and head home over the weekend (maybe), but we'll see how it goes.

Wednesday, November 28, 2007

Where's my smiley face?

Today my CD34 was just four. Really, really upsetting.

After we got the results back, Jay and I decided to meet with the nurse coordinator in person. She explained that three million is the MAXIMUM one needs per transplant. Really, a person only needs somewhere between 2 and 3 million cells per transplant. At 7.75 million, I have collected enough for three transplants, and she said I should feel good about what I have collected. However, since I have gone this far with getting all the extra injections, we are going to try one more day to see if we can squeeze out any extra cells. Tomorrow I'll go in at 7 a.m. again for more injections and another blood test. If my CD34 has hit 10, (which I should know by tomorrow afternoon) then I'll collect on Friday. If my CD34 is still low, then it means that the growth factor injections just aren't working for me anymore, and I get to quit. They'll pull the line out of my neck, and then I can go.

I feel like sort of a loser for not hitting the goal of nine. It's like I'm getting an average C when I could be getting an A-plus. I want the extra credit and the smiley face on the top of my paper.

Tuesday, November 27, 2007

WE ARE NEVER GOING HOME!!! FOR THE LOVE OF GOD!!!!

Not that I am bitter.

They have tripled my growth factor. This morning I had my CD34 level checked (that's the one that needs to be 10 or higher) ... and it was three. A wimpy little three. My stem cells hate me. This means I can't collect tomorrow, either. More shots tonight, more shots and blood work tomorrow. Then we'll see where we are. Dang you, CD34.

Because I had the day off today, Jay, WCK, and I went to the local mall. Kansas Citians have great barbecue; Minnesotans have great malls. It has a really cool play area. If you are a Kansas City mom and know what the Zona Rosa Fruit is, I have to tell you that it puts the Zona Rosa Fruit to shame. Anyway, it was nice to get out. Every time we go out, we usually end up driving past Rochester's most famous landmark (well, I guess it's the second most famous, after the Mayo Clinic itself): The Fabulous Ear of Corn Water Tower. Don't believe me?




WCK is obsessed with the corn tower. If it even looks like we're headed for the car, she starts asking for it. "Where corn go, Mommy? Where corn go?" My mom finally went to the Mayo gift shop and bought her a postcard with a photo of the corn on it. That seems to keep her satisfied.





Monday, November 26, 2007

.38, .39: Whatever it takes

Today while I was strapped to the machine, I got to watch one of the greatest '80s movies ever: Mr. Mom. I'm going to have to talk to the MOMS Club about getting together to play poker for coupons.

Anyway, the good movie vibes did nothing for my cells. I collected a mere .38 million. It's so low that they're making me take tomorrow off. They have increased my growth-factor injections yet again, and now I have to go get them twice a day. I just went to get a round of shots at 6:30 p.m. I'll go get more in the morning, as well as a blood test to see how the cells are doing. Remember way back when I had to have a certain number over 10 to begin collecting? It's that same test. I'm now at 7.75 million cells, so I am ALMOST THERE!!

Will I ever get to go home? I will let you know.

Sunday, November 25, 2007

Home stretch?

Sunday daytime TV is bad. Really, really, really bad. It's nothing but golf, hunting, monster trucks, and evangelists.

My total today: Just .44 million. Most of the time, if you collect below .5 million in one day, they make you stop collecting for a day or two. Since they just increased my dose of growth-factor today, however, they're going to let me come back tomorrow to see if it worked. I now get three shots in the belly every day instead of two. I'm now up to 7.37 million cells. Almost there! Almost there!

Saturday, November 24, 2007

How low can it go?

Today's total was a stupid .52 million. Tomorrow they're going to increase my dose of growth factor to see if we can boost the cell production, but I'm probably going to have several more days on the machine. They don't give the injections until the end of the collection, so the increased dose won't affect tomorrow's total, which I expect to be way, way, waaaay low. Like, one cell. My grand total is now 6.9 million, and my goal is 9 million.

Anyway. Today was yet another morning in the hospital bed. You'd think that spending five hours just lying there doing nothing would be fun and relaxing, but it actually gets pretty tiring after a while. I'm exhausted by the time we get back to the apartment. I have to look for excitement where I can find it. Even though it was Saturday, there was still an episode of Little House on at 7 a.m. Woo hoo! It was the episode where they all get telephones, and Mrs. Oleson listens in on everyone's conversations. Albert throws a mouse on Nellie. A classic. I spent the rest of the time flipping around between really stupid movies on Comedy Central and Lifetime. I could not find Hulk Hogan today. Dang.

I forgot to mention that Jay and I were able to get out for dinner and a movie last night. We saw Bee Movie, which I really enjoyed. It was good to get out. Maybe my stem cells enjoyed themselves so much that they wanted to stay in my body, just in case I take them to more movies. Fat chance, stem cells!

Friday, November 23, 2007

Hulk Hogan

My collection today was a piddly .75 million cells. We got the message about it on Jay's cell phone and then sort of freaked out until we got in touch with the BMT coordinator. She reassured us once again that .75 is totally fine, that most people taper off like this, and that nobody is worried about it. If my number dips below .5 million, though, I'll most likely get some extra injections to boost the cell production. I'm also going to be hooked to the machine for several more days. Probably into next week. Bleh.

Today I got to watch The Golden Girls, The Ellen DeGeneres Show, and bits and pieces of the Little House made-for-TV movie where Rose gets kidnapped in Mankato on Christmas Eve. Then Jay and I got completely sucked into a reality show on VH-1 about Hulk Hogan's family. We were pretending that we weren't really watching it, but we totally were. Right now, I'm still wondering what will happen with Hulk's daughter and her new boyfriend.

Tomorrow is Saturday, so the TV won't be nearly as good.

Thursday, November 22, 2007

Happy Thanksgiving!

This morning I dozed through two hours of The Today Show and three hours of the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade. I guess this is how I usually spend Thanksgiving morning almost every year anyway, only this time I was hooked to a machine. The nurses gave us some really yummy pumpkin pie. It wasn't a bad morning.

After all that, I only collected 1.02 million cells. My total is now 5.66 million, so I still have a way to go. Sigh.

In other news, my friend DeAnna was able to come visit us from Minneapolis last night. We had a lot of fun, mostly mocking people from college we haven't seen in 10 years. Tonight, my mom made a teeny tiny turkey at the apartment, and we had a nice little Thanksgiving meal. WCK just looooooved the pumpkin pie, which my sister made from scratch from an actual pumpkin. Maybe my stem cells will get a taste of that overachieving pie and start multiplying again. Get moving, you guys!

Wednesday, November 21, 2007

San Juan Hill, Rose!

After yesterday's big triumph ... the total for today's collection was only 1.63 million cells. I'm sort of bummed out about it. The BMT coordinator said this was a totally respectable number, but I wanted my overachieving 3 million again, dang it! I was getting excited about finishing up, getting this stupid line out of my neck, and heading back home. Looks like we'll be here at least one extra day, maybe more.

Anyway. Today I watched a lot of TV while I was harvesting. The Golden Girls was on at 8 a.m. It was the episode where Blanche finds out her father had an affair with her childhood nanny for 50 years.

BLANCHE: I still can't get over it.
ROSE: Over what?
DOROTHY: San Juan Hill, Rose!

Heh.

Also, I got a bunch more cards in the mail today and yesterday. (Thanks everybody!) My friend Abigail sent me a bag of black jellybeans! Mmmmm .... black jellybeans and The Golden Girls. What could be better?

Tuesday, November 20, 2007

And today's total is ...

THREE MEEEEEEELLION CELLS!



Woo hoo! If I keep collecting cells at the same rate (which I'm told most people do), I should only have two more days of collection! Yay!

The collection was almost exactly like I expected. Here's a very non-technical description: I sat in a hospital-type bed, and a nurse hooked my line up to a big fancy machine. Jay got to sit in a chair next to me and hang out. Blood ran through long tubes and went into the machine, which made all kinds of whirring and clanging and beeping noises and somehow figured out which cells were the stem cells and spit them into a little bag. I sat there for five hours and read a book, and the nurses insisted on constantly bringing me cookies and pop. It wasn't too bad. I did get a slight tingling feeling in my fingers, which meant the nurse had to inject some extra calcium into my line. And by 1:30 p.m., I was a little antsy to just get up and walk around. Other than that, everything was fine. Hopefully tomorrow goes just as well.

Monday, November 19, 2007

The cells'll come out ... tomorrow!

I went in this morning for another set of injections and another blood test. I got the call this afternoon -- my level TRIPLED to FIFTEEN!! Woo hoo! We're good to go for tomorrow. I report to the harvest place at 8 a.m., and we'll get started.

Wish me luck!

Sunday, November 18, 2007

Delay! Dismay!

I won't be able to start the harvest tomorrow. Arrrrgh!

Early this morning, I had more injections and some blood tests that would show if I have enough stem cells to start the harvest tomorrow morning. I called this afternoon to get the results. They're looking at a certain number that has to be at least 10 before they'll let you begin harvesting. A couple of days ago, I was reassured that 80 percent of people hit 10 by Sunday's blood test and can start on Monday. My number was just FIVE. FIVE! So, instead of reporting for the harvest tomorrow, I report for more injections. Hopefully I'll be able to get my number up and start on Tuesday. I'll let you know.

Anyway, as Forrest Gump's mama once said, we've had all kinds of visitors. Jay's parents were here on Saturday night, and my sister, brother-in-law and niece got here this afternoon. At least I have a lot of company while I'm waiting for those cells to show up.

Yes, my line still looks disgusting. I'm Turtleneck Girl.

Saturday, November 17, 2007

Pumpkin's turtleneck emergency

Yesterday was icky. I came home from surgery, lay around until it was time to go get my shots, came back home and lay there until it was time for bed. You'd be surprised by how many everyday things require extensive use of your neck muscles, such as going from a lying-down position to a sitting position. Owie owie owie. Plus, the heavy tape they put all over my neck was sort of yanking down on my head and gave me a wicked tension headache. I'm feeling better today.

Yesterday's one bright spot was when Jay went out to Taco John's and got me some Potato Oles. We don't have Taco John's in Kansas City, so it was pretty exciting. If you've never lived in the Iowa/South Dakota/Minnesota area, Taco John's is a fast food place, sort of like Taco Bell, but a zillion times better. Potato Oles are like deep-fried Tator Tots with a sprinkling of Mexican-ish spices on them. One bite and you're south of the border. The Canadian border.

WCK has been pretty fascinated by my big owie (the catheter) and my millions of little owies (all of the spots where they tried to start the IV). I explained to her that the doctor fixed me with Band-Aids, and she seemed pretty satisfied by that. What she couldn't quite get over, however, was the fact that my entire neck and upper chest were bright orange from the iodine that they smeared all over me. She spent most of yesterday calling me Pumpkin. When I walked in the door after getting my shots, she called out, "Hi, Pumpkin!" When she woke up from her nap, she asked my mom, "Where Pumpkin go?" Heh.

Speaking of WCK, when I left the hospital yesterday, they gave me instructions not to lift anything heavier than 10 pounds for as long as I have the line in. This is a little troublesome, considering WCK weighs just under 30 pounds, and I usually have to lift her nonstop all day long. It seems like I can't do aaaaaanything. I can't put her to bed, I can't give her a bath, I can't put her in her high chair. Fortunately, I have a lot of help. It's still a little sad.

This morning, I went in to get more shots and to get the dressing changed on the catheter. I think the most painful thing I've experienced during my visit at Mayo so far is when the nurse had to rip that tape off of my skin. They should sedate you for the tape removal. He put a new dressing on ... only this one is see-through. You can actually see the tube entering a giant bloody opening in my flesh. It is very, very, very gross. As soon as I got back, I realized I didn't have any turtleneck shirts with me and decided I needed to make an emergency shopping trip to get some. Fortunately, our apartment is connected to a little mall, and I found a few that were on sale. Hurrah! Grossness averted!

Friday, November 16, 2007

Pain in the neck

Here I am in the recovery room with an IV sticking out of my wrist and what feels like a 10-pound weight on my neck. I haven't even gotten a good look at what exactly they did to me. Jay says it doesn't look too bad. I hope it doesn't look as bad as it feels. I feel like I've been attacked by a herd of vampires.

This was my first time having real surgery, if you don't count the bone-marrow biopsies. There was a little drama in the OR -- not like Grey's Anatomy, there's-an-unexploded-bomb-in-the-patient-type drama -- but just a little moment of panic for me when they couldn't start an IV to administer the anesthesia. They could not find a vein anywhere on my body. (See? I have teeny veins!) I had three anesthesiologists searching my body -- hands, feet, neck, wrists, arms -- for a vein, any vein. At one point, the surgeon leaned over and said they wouldn't be able to put me under for the surgery. "We'll give you a bunch of local anesthetic," he said. "It'll be just like going to the dentist." Now, I've sort of started priding myself on not being wimpy about medical things, BUT COME ON!! Finally the head anesthesiologist -- a very sweet British man -- managed to find a vein in my wrist. Thank you, sweet British man! After that, I sort of floated away and drifted in and out, and everything was just fine. I could hear everyone talking from time to time, but it didn't sound like real words. It sounded like Charlie Brown's teacher: "Waaaah, wah, waaaaah ...."

Then they wheeled me back upstairs, and now I'm having toast and pudding and Diet Pepsi. Mmmm ....

Thursday, November 15, 2007

Band-Aids on my belly

I got my first injections this morning. I got two of them, right in the belly. I KNOW this sounds really, really, really scary and painful and gross, but I was shocked to find out that it wasn't bad. The shots didn't hurt at all going in. The flu shot I got yesterday hurt a lot worse. About half an hour later, the injection sites had sort of a weird burning sensation (which I'd been warned about), but that went away after a few minutes. I haven't had any of the achy symptoms yet.

After the shots, we took WCK to the Rochester Public Library for story time. I've been to many, many story times over the past two and a half years, and I have to say that this was the best story time EVER. It was more of a multi-media extravaganza with puppets and movies and a very elaborate felt board. The librarians wore those headphone-type microphones that pop stars wear so they can dance while singing. Very impressive.

We returned to the apartment to find an absolutely amazing care package from the MOMS Club. It was filled with about a meeeellion toys for WCK and a whole bunch of treats for me. I've already started in on the snacks, which arrived just in time, because we just finished all of the snacks that my in-laws sent in another amazing care package the other day.

No more appointments until my surgery tomorrow morning. They say it's simple and I'll be out of there by noon. I'll try not to blog while under the influence of drugs.

Wednesday, November 14, 2007

Lots and lots and lots of information

Today was a bunch of meetings: My transplant coordinator (even though I'm not having a transplant right now, I still have a transplant coordinator), Dr. H, and the surgeon who will be placing my line on Friday. I got a bunch of information today, so I'll probably forget to tell you something important. Here's what I remember, though:

I get my first growth-factor injection tomorrow at 9 a.m. For those of you interested in detailed medical info, it's officially called Neupogen or G-CSF, Granulocyte Colony Stimulating Factor. (Yeah, I'm cheating off of a sheet that they gave me. I really don't remember all this stuff off the top of my head). This is what gets my bone marrow to produce more stem cells and spit them out into my bloodstream by the millions. That's the only thing that's on my schedule for tomorrow. I continue getting injections once a day on Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. On Sunday morning when I go in for my injection, they'll also draw blood to see if I have enough stem cells in my blood stream (Again, for you medical folks: My pCD34 count must be above 10.0). I'll call Sunday evening to get the results. If my cells are ready to go, I'll start the harvest on Monday morning at 7 a.m. If I don't have enough cells, I'll continue with the injections. Nurses keep warning me to not get disappointed if I can't start on Monday, so this must happen a lot. They also keep warning me that I could feel kind of flu-ish and achy as my bone marrow fills up with all of these extra cells.

Friday morning, I have surgery to get my line put in. It is officially called a Mahurkar catheter (and, yeah, I'm cheating off the sheet again. I can't even pronounce it, let alone spell it). This is what it looks like:




The long white part goes into a vein in my neck, and the two little tubes stick out. A machine will suck my blood out of one little tube, filter out the stem cells, and return the blood to my body through the other little tube. When I'm done with the harvest, the nurses can just pull it right out of me. So they say.

Anyhoo. All of my test results were fine. They tested me for every possible virus there is. My West Nile results are still pending, so everybody keep your fingers crossed.

My M-spike is up a tiny bit (2.4), and I freaked out a little bit, but Dr. H said she wasn't worried. She expects the numbers to eventually start going down again once I start back on the drugs. Anyway, she said the goal of the harvest is 9 million cells.

"Spit them out so you can go home," she said.

That's what I'll do.

Tuesday, November 13, 2007

Multi-cultural

Mayo offers some of the best medical care in the world, so people come here from everywhere. WCK's been seeing some new and unusual sights. Today, while walking in the skyway, we passed a woman who was wearing a flowing black burka. Her entire body was covered except for her eyes. WCK stared up in wonder.

"Look, Mommy!" she exclaimed. "DARTH VADER!"

Monday, November 12, 2007

Mayo! May-hay-hay-o!

Daylight come and me wan go home!

Actually, daylight came and I reported for my tests. The first was a blood draw -- the Mother of All Blood Draws. The lab tech took (dramatic pause) TWENTY-THREE VIALS OF BLOOD OUT OF MY ARM.

Yes. Twenty-three. I'm not making this up.

Even the tech seemed a little shocked, although he did tell me that his record was 28 vials. Part of me secretly wished I could have broken the record. Maybe next time.

After that, I staggered over to the Gonda Building for my bone-marrow biopsy. This sounds like a really scary procedure, and, depending on who does it to you, it really can be. The way they do it at Mayo is great, though. I was completely sedated with very pleasant drugs, so I didn't feel a thing. They gave me cookies and a Diet Coke afterward. The actual procedure took less than 15 minutes. I have a giant band-aid, and my hip's a little sore, but it wasn't that bad.

Next, I had x-rays of every bone in my body, which is always a really long, boring test. At least I got to wear the little foam slippers with happy faces on them.

In the afternoon, Jay and I met with a nurse who works in the stem-cell collection department. Her first task was to look at the veins in my arms to see if the cells could be harvested via my arms instead of through a central line, which has to be implanted surgically. I didn't even know the arm thing was a possibility, so I got a little bit hopeful, even though the techs at the KC Cancer Center complain endlessly about my teeny, hidden veins. Sure enough, the nurse took one look at my arms and said, "Yeah, you're gonna need a line." Dang. Couldn't she tell that these powerful veins can spit out 23 vials of blood? Anyway, the line will be put in by a surgeon, probably on Friday. It sounds like I'll get the same kind of drugs I got for the biopsy, though. Yay, drugs!

Then we got a tour of the area where the harvest will take place. I'll be confined to a hospital-type bed and hooked up to a machine for five hours a day, usually 7 a.m. to noon. I won't be able to get up at all. "Let us know if you have to go to the bathroom," said the nurse, "and we'll bring a commode to you." Oh, good. They do have free snacks, though.

My last test of the day was an EKG. Very fast and easy.

Tomorrow is a day off: I have NOTHING except Pee Pod Dropoff. Wednesday is a bunch of meetings/consultations with the transplant nurses, Dr. H, and the surgeon who will implant my line. After that, I start injections to stimulate the stem cells. If all goes well, collection starts on Monday.

What am I going to do with my day off? I'm not sure. I've already been to Barnes and Noble twice.

Sunday, November 11, 2007

Rah, Rah, Rochester*

* That's seriously the town motto. I'm not making this up.

We got here last night all in one piece. It was a pretty uneventful trip, which means that nobody threw up in the car. Hurrah! We were able to stop in Iowa to see my sister and World's Cutest Neice for a couple hours. WCK loves the new "partment", most likely because it is completely un-babyproofed: Nothing but uncovered electrical outlets and butcher knives in low drawers as far as the eye can see. It's a toddler paradise, really.

When Jay and I visited Rochester in the past, we never really ventured out. Mostly we'd just hang out in the Gonda Building and read, so we don't really know the town. Today we managed to locate a church and a grocery store, so we're making a little progress.

Tomorrow I report at 8 a.m. for my tests, but I don't know exactly what they're going to do. I admit this is a very boring update, but I guess when it comes to medical adventures, boring is good.

Thursday, November 08, 2007

Ready go!

This is what WCK says when she wants to leave. "Ready go, Mommy! Ready go!"

I am very ready go to the Mayo Clinic. I want to just get there and get this whole harvest over with. I've been worried about it nonstop since March, so I want to get it done. We've been really busy getting things ready for the trip. Tomorrow will be a big packing marathon, and then Saturday we'll hit the road. When Jay and I go to Mayo by ourselves, it usually takes six hours. With WCK in the car with us, it could take ... oh, I don't know, 26 hours. At least it will seem that way.

Tonight I'm going to "Spa Night" to get a pedicure with the other grownup members of the MOMS Club. It'll be just what I need, although nobody will really see my toenails in Minnesota. They only have good toenail weather for about three weeks out of the year.

Anyway. While I'm in Minnesota, I'm expecting to have Internet access and a lot of time on my hands, so I'll probably be updating the blog A LOT. You'll hear from me soon.

Friday, November 02, 2007

Is this wrong?

WCK is obsessed with dinosaurs right now. She frequently pretends to be a dinosaur, which involves stomping/running up and down our upstairs hallway while yelling, "Raaaar!!" Sometimes Mommy is forced to be a stomping/running dinosaur, too. Raaar!!

Yesterday we were pretending to be dinosaurs at the park (yes, I do this in public) when she pointed at the trees. "Look, Mommy! Dinosaur!" It took me a minute to figure out what she was talking about, but sure enough, there was a tree with a thick, curving branch. There were two big knots on it and a slit that looked a little like a mouth. It looked somewhat like a brontosaurus with buggy eyes, if you squinted hard enough. We walked up to the dinosaur and chatted with him, petted him, and fed him a stick. I glanced at my watch and saw it was almost time for us to head home. I always hate trying to get WCK to leave a park, because it usually turns into a big screaming ordeal.

"What's that, dinosaur?" I said, leaning in close to listen. "Oh," I said, turning to WCK. "Dinosaur says we need to go home and eat supper."

"OK," said WCK. "Bye, dinosaur." She happily set out for the car.

Oh, this dinosaur is good, I thought. He's my new best friend.

Fast-forward to bedtime. WCK has been having a lot of trouble falling asleep for the past few weeks. Most of our evenings are spent listening to screaming on the baby monitor and taking turns going up and down the stairs to her room, only to have her laugh at us. Last night, after about my fifth trip to her room, I had a flash of brilliance.

"WCK," I said, "I just got in the car, drove to the park, and had a talk with the dinosaur. I told him you didn't want to go to sleep, and he felt very sad. He said that he'd really like you to go to sleep. He said that if you want to grow up to be a big, strong dinosaur, you need to go to sleep right now."

WCK's eyes got huge. She immediately lay down and squeezed her eyes shut. I didn't hear a peep out of her for the next 11 hours.

Was it just a one-time deal? No! Just a minute ago, she was refusing to take a nap. Naps have also been a big problem for weeks now. I went into her room and told her I'd been back to the park to talk to the dinosaur again, and once again, he was really sad that she wasn't napping, and he was scared she'd never grow up to be a dinosaur.

Now she's fast asleep. I LOVE THE IMAGINARY MIRACLE DINOSAUR!

Jay thinks lying to our sweet little child is wrong. I think I am going to do this ALL THE TIME.

"Sure, you can borrow the car," I'll say in 2021, "but if you're not back by your curfew, the dinosaur will be sad."

Thursday, November 01, 2007

It's the Great Pumpkin, WCK!

Halloween was great. It's so much fun now that WCK semi-understands what is going on. She was a champion trick-or-treater. Knowing her shy nature and fear of the unknown, I'd partly expected her to go to one house and then declare, "No! Don't like it!" and run back home. She surprised us and kept going for about an hour and even managed to whisper, "Trick or treat" and "Thank you" at a few of the houses. We finally went home when her candy bucket was too heavy for her to carry anymore. We had such a good time. I hope I always remember it.

When we got home, I told her that we'd leave her candy for the Great Pumpkin. While she was asleep, I said, the Great Pumpkin would visit our house, take the candy away, and leave a nice toy in its place. Sure enough, when the morning came the candy had disappeared, Mom and Dad looked a little bloated, and a mini Little People set was waiting in the empty candy bucket. WCK was very excited about the new toy, and the candy has been mostly forgotten. Oh, that Great Pumpkin. Is there anything he can't do?

Oh, and here is a photo of our front-porch goose in its vampire outfit. I think this is my favorite of all of the goose outfits. It's the fangs.