After four kids, ten moves and nearly two decades, we are still blissfully in love (most of the time) and I found myself back in the state I was born and raised in. It has definitely been a journey. In fact, on our 18th anniversary we pulled the last of our stuff up over the pass and into Montana, leaving our surprise love, Idaho, behind. But Montana is a great place. The last best place according to some. And we fully intend to explore as much of it as we can! Join us on our continued adventure through life, love and other stuff that comes with it.

Thursday, October 8, 2009

Two days, 800 miles, 6 stitches and a puking baby

**WARNING** If you are a little bit squeamish at the thought of blood or puke, don't read this. There isn't a LOT of blood and not a lot of puke, but there is enough to make the squeamish squirm.




So this week has been nuts. And today is only Thursday. We spent the better part of this week getting ready and getting on the road. Late nights, kids so excited to go to grandma's house (haven't seen them since June) and a couple days in the car.

I took the kids in the morning on Tuesday to the photo shoot for the International Babywearing Conference. Brent met us there and we were on our way. But first we stopped at the Starbucks in Idaho Falls. Because that's the last (and first) Starbucks for a good 1,400 miles. The only Starbucks on the planet that doesn't have another Starbucks a block away. But that's okay because it has saved me a lot of money since we moved to Idaho.

Two of the three kids fell asleep, the third one was happy and quiet and we made it to our "best case scenario" destination--Ontario, Oregon. And we found a hotel. And ordered pizza. And went for a walk because it was a beautiful night. And came back and got ready for bed and crawled into the two full size beds we had pushed together and were trying to get the kids settled in when it happened.

Calla's head bounced off this:



It was one of those things that happened that you just know that it wasn't good. And that you were now going to be up until at least 1 am because you were going to spend some time sitting in the ER waiting for them to sew your kid's pretty little head back together.

Speaking of pretty little heads, Violet was on the table the other day (her new trick) and I took her off telling her that I didn't want her on the table. And Calla pipes up, "Because you don't want her to fall off and break her pretty little head."

The kid cracks me up. And then two days later she ended up needing to get her pretty little head sewn back together.

Brent took her in and I stayed with the other two girls at the hotel room. Brent said Calla was a real trooper and was the perfect little patient. The doctor and nurse were super and certainly contributed to the positive experience. It was obvious they had stitched kids up before. Brent said he asked if there were any alternatives to stitches, and the doctor said they could glue it together, but stitches were a better alternative for this particular wound. "See that white in there? That's her skull."



I guess it figures that Calla would be the first kid to get stitches.

The next morning we piled back in the car and headed west. Everything was going great. Until about an hour and a half from our final destination when Violet started puking.

Poor kid. We just had to keep going because we were SO close. I sat back there with her and kept her cleaned up the best I could. She fell asleep for about half an hour of it, which was good.

But we made it. Violet isn't puking any more. And we got pancakes for breakfast. And we got the first decent night's sleep in at least four nights.

So, two days, 800 miles, 6 stitches and a puking baby later, we are here. And today we are just going to hang out and relax with grandma and grandpa and hopefully get a little rest.

Frankly, the whole thing sounds a whole lot worse all squished together in one sentence than it was. It felt like a pretty good trip, actually.

Is that weird?