Two days after Christmas, we packed up everything we owned and moved.

To tell you it was fun–well, it wasn’t.

However, in true Hopeful fashion, we’ve had some moments that will make you shake your head.

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We have a chicken. Her name was going to be Attila the Hen, but she’s named Betsy…

On the day of the closing, S and I left the kids with P and headed to the lawyer. As we made small talk, she told us that she was really happy we were taking the chicken. (I’m thinking, “what?”). We started signing our lives over to the bank, and after giving us the keys, we were told to hang on for more instructions.

Instructions for what, you ask?

For Betsy the Chicken. We were told how to feed her and care for her and…I kid you not…how to talk her off of the fence so she doesn’t jump.

She’s been a constant source of amusement for all, and apparently she is well-known around the neighborhood (as evidenced by Neighbor 1 saying: “Did you decide to keep Betsy?”). Actually, she is well-known all around our town because when I went to the feed store for her food, the man working asked if I bought the house where Betsy lives.

Who knew I’d inherit a famous chicken?

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The house itself is great. I love it. It’s home. We have family here. I couldn’t be more pleased if I tried.

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Jack has seen a few of his new doctors.

To say I’m delighted would probably be the understatement of the year! His GI here is a lovely woman doctor…she is gentle, kind, and doesn’t think that I’m crazy! She agreed with the plan to not feed him orally more than what he is doing now as it’s a risk for aspiration. She was just fantastic and I really think she wants the best for all of us.

Today we saw the new pulmonologist–which went a little less wonderfully. Not because I didn’t like the doctor. No! The doctor was a total Rock Star! He and I talked and discussed a TON of stuff. He thinks that to combat Jack’s apnea, we should have him on some oxygen at night (since he won’t tolerate the C-PAP). I couldn’t agree more, but the pulmo in Savannah was not at all for that idea. He would prefer if we didn’t offer Jack anything orally for a while until he can fully assess his airway and how much damage has already been done.

So we’re sitting there, and he decides to do a random pulse oximetry (it measure the amount of oxygen in your blood) on Jack. It was 90. Then it was 87. Then it was 90. Then it was 88. Then I almost passed out because it’s supposed to be 99-100. In the hospital, we like to keep our patients above 92. So this wasn’t awesome.

Jack’s overachieving self earned us a trip to the hospital for chest x-rays. He’s also getting a referral to the cardiologist because Dr. Lung thinks that maybe he could be having some issues there too. You know, because Encyclopedia Jack isn’t thick enough yet. Or something.

We’re also doing another sleep study in a couple of weeks to see if the oxygen will help at night. I’m hoping that we are finally getting to a place where we can keep him comfy and hopefully not do any more damage to these fragile little lungs.

Unfortunately, he did agree that palliative care was our best option.

The only good thing about that is that we get to go to clinic on preemie day so everyone wears masks and no one touches him too much.

Sigh.

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J is happy as a little clam. She’s thrilled to be near her cousins! She’s loving being outside all the time. She and the chicken are best friends–so much so that the chicken follows her around and keeps trying to get in the house. J can’t wait for the pool to be ready and to start swim team. She’s growing up–she saved all her money for a year to buy an aquarium. Now that she’s met that goal, she asked to open a bank account so she can save money to buy…a house.

Yep, a house.

“Because, Momma, it’s stupid to rent. You’re throwing money away!”

(My little miser!)

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I’ve missed you. xoxo