Redneck Yacht Club

My work sent me to San Diego for a week, but luckily these dudes were able to tag along with me this time.

 My boss owns a yacht there. I'm not even joking. It is a gigantic, beautiful boat, and he and his wife were nice enough to take the rednecks out for a spin on it.

This is proof that no matter how hot you already are, you're 85% sexier on a yacht.

 Our favorite spot was up on the front of the boat where you could feel the wind blowing on you.

This shot will give you some idea of how big the canoe is. Cole took it from up on the very top deck, and it shows us down on the main deck at the front. This is about half of the boat. Sheesh.

They spoiled us with pizza and all the treats we could stuff in our faces. At one point Tukker asked my boss's wife, Tneah, if he could have some of the popcorn that was sitting out on the counter, and she said, "Of course you can! You can have whatever you want!" So Caulder stage whispered to Tukk, "Ask her if you can have one of her TVs!" I was mortified. And also trying really hard not to giggle. Luckily my boss has a sense of humor. He just said, "I like that kid."

We got to play on my off days over the weekend, so we took the boys to La Jolla to see the sea lions.

It was nice and sunny, but definitely not warm enough to be diving into the ocean, so I didn't bother bringing their swim clothes. Big mistake.

The second we hit the beach they were kicking their shoes off and diving in the waves. And, of course, making sand angels.

 It didn't seem to bother them that there were sea lions right behind us on the beach, and even a couple that swam within about 10 feet of where they were playing in the waves, but I was a little nervous. Mostly because if one of them got attacked I didn't want to have to brave the cold water to go save them. If you want your mother to come rescue you the water has to be at least 85 degrees. Sorry, suckas.

He just thought he'd dig a nice hole to put his butt in. My kids are totally normal.

Beach head.

If you've gotta work, San Diego's not a bad location.   

Our hotel was right at a marina called Shelter Island, and there was a nice little walking path where you could watch all the boats.

We also took some time to "appreciate" the artwork at the end of the island.

And have a leisurely stroll.

This dude must be growing. Whenever we'd eat breakfast in the restaurant I'd split with Tukk, Cole would order one side of biscuits and gravy, and Caulder would order biscuits and gravy, an egg, and four pieces of bacon. He'd have three plates in front of him, and he'd devour everything before the rest of us were halfway done, then start stealing bites from us.

Cole and the boys spent lots of time at the pool while I was working.

But I did manage to have a nice, relaxing lay-out session Saturday morning. Ahhhh, the joys of a little "me" time.

The boys also made a new best friend. They gave him the first name that popped into Cole's head, slightly modified. Please meet Bob Henstren. I'm sure our old neighbor, Bob Henstra, would be honored to know he had a pelican named after him.

A fisherman let them have some squid heads to feed him, which cemented their friendship for eternity. When I got off work that night the boys dragged me back to the pier to visit Bob's hangout, the fish shack, for formal introductions. Caulder said, "Bob Henstren, I'm not sure if we've officially introduced ourselves or not. I'm Caulder, this is my brother Tukker, and this is my mom." Then he had a 10-minute conversation with Bob. Leaving Bob behind at the end of the trip almost broke his heart.

 I also think it's important to note that you can buy hot dogs AND fish bait at this fish shack. It may be the greatest combination ever. Oh yeah, and soup.

Cole took the crazies to Coronado one day while I was at work and let them play in the waves again. They loved it.

But not as much as they loved the snacks. They get that from their dad, cough cough. 

Our view from the pier with downtown San Diego in the background.

 It was a fantastic work-cation. The boys are dying to go back to see how Bob Henstren is faring. Don't forget us, you big, beautiful (capable of massive eye gouging) pelican.

Bath-phoon

My boys spend a lot of time being stinky and dirty. In case you're wondering why, it's because this is what I have to look forward to every time they take a bath: Total Bathroom Annihilation.

Usually it starts out with Caulder in our shower and Tukk in the jetted tub. Then they party hop back and forth to "visit" each other (you know, because being in the same bathroom just isn't quite good enough... they get lonely), so there are water drips all over the floor, including a trail to the toilet, because they never realize they need to use the bathroom until after they're completely wet. I guess I should be glad they don't just pee in the shower.

And then - of course - their "guys" start fighting, which leads to a giant tidal wave. Which leads to massive splashing all over the walls and sometimes even the ceiling. Which leads to them "cleaning up" by pulling every towel and washcloth out of the cupboard, getting them completely soaked in water, and then leaving them dripping all over the bathroom. While giggling like crazy people the entire time.

But as you can see from the black flecks all over the tub, I have to endure Bath-phoon at least once a week, because they are some seriously dirty boys.

Fweakin' Viwuses

The Tukk got sicky. I took him to the clinic last Wednesday night, and Cole's cousin Wes just happened to be the doctor working. He took one look at Tukk and started panicking, possibly because Tukk looked like this:

We checked his oxygen levels and he was at 77%. He should have been in the 90s. So then I started panicking. Wes called the pediatric group for a second opinion, and the pediatrician wanted to see Tukk ASAP. With sats in the 70s I figured there was no way the pediatrician would be sending him home that night, so we raced home to grab jammies, toothbrushes, and Kenny, then sprinted over to the Spanish Fork clinic for chest X-rays and a blood draw.  

His sats were in the low 80s, the X-ray showed pneumonia, he was dehydrated, had a fever of 102.9, was taking 52 breaths per minute, and was working really hard to breathe. So the pediatrician sent us to Tukk's home away from home, Utah Valley Hospital. I was fine while they hooked him up to an IV and did another blood draw. But then they put him on oxygen. I almost barfed. And then I started looking for sharp objects because I was pretty sure someone was going to need a good stabbing. Some of you probably don't know this, but misdirected anger is a super healthy way to deal with your anxiety. I've become such a pro at it that I'm considering getting my therapy license.

My two favorite questions of the night were, "Does he have any medical history we need to be aware of?" (ha!) and "Does that weight look right for him? That's really light for a 5 year old." Oh really? WE'VE NEVER NOTICED. And when the pediatrician on call started telling me all about how skinny Tukk is and that we should be fat packing him and not letting him drink juice because it's just empty calories, I started getting stabby again. I mean, it's not like we've spent the last 5 1/2 years trying desperately to get the kid to gain weight or anything. As soon as the doc left I gave Tukk a rice krispie treat on principal. Hmpf.

He had a really rotten night that night. Whenever the monitors would start going off he'd get nervous and ask, "Mom, am I okay?" And his oxygen needs kept going up, so at 4 in the morning they tried an albuterol treatment. It did nothing. Tukk was on 2 liters of oxygen at this point (which is quite a bit for a little guy), and I was pretty much out of my mind.

By the next morning the tests were back and we learned Tukk had RSV and the Corona virus, which I guess are two viruses that cause lots of mucous and explained why his lungs were full of gunk. I usually don't like my boys to say the word "freakin'" - I have really high standards when it comes to clean language, as anyone who reads my blog or has ever talked to me, ever, knows - but I told Tukk it was totally appropriate to use that word in relation to a double virus infection: "fweakin' viwuses."

The doc said with the double whammy and Tukk's history we'd probably be there a while, and may even have to talk about sending him home on oxygen at some point to get him out of the hospital. The crazy voice in my head said to me, "Well, at least now we know which one of these poor bastards is getting cut. That fweakin' doctor there."

But then I slept for about two hours, and when I woke up the crazy voice had been shoved deep down in the darkest abyss in my brain, and I realized we were all okay, and we might even get out of that place without me committing assault and battery. Maybe. Tukk did much better when he was awake, and by that afternoon his nurse was trialing him off oxygen. The crazy voice in my head made one more brief appearance to scream "Suck on that, doc!" before I commanded it to return to the abyss. 

And then we found the magic medicine. Caulder had been up half the night at home going back and forth between worrying about Tukk, then giving Cole pep talks about how he'd be totally fine. "He's super tough, Dad. I mean, the doctors said he had like a 60% chance of dying and only like a 3% chance of living when he was born, but he totally lived. He's seriously so tough!" So Cole let him sleep in and have a ditch day from school. The two of them came to visit, and Tukk perked right up.

One of the hospital volunteers also brought a bunch of Legos in and played with Tukk, which he loved. When they heard about his big bro they brought extra balloons for Caulder and a Wii so they could play together. 

We even got to draw on the glass in Tukk's doors, which he thought was super cool.

And we had lots of visitors who spoiled the little man with all sorts of toys, treats, balloons, a new Lego set, and even a teddy bear that he named Zombie Killer. So sweet. After seeing him get so spoiled by so many people I just have to say...

STOP ENCOURAGING HIS BAD BEHAVIOR!!! 

Fweakin' enablers. I told him from now on he's getting a beating every time he gets sick, and for every winter he goes without getting pneumonia I'm buying him a new Lego set. I figure that will be much cheaper in the long run.

At one point I was reading Tukk some comments on Facebook and said, "Everyone's worried about you because they love you so much!" He said, "Why are they worried about me? My life is great here!" Punk.

Caulder begged and begged for us to let him sleep over. He loved squishing himself into a crack in the adjustable hospital bed and thought nothing could possibly be more exciting than having a slumber party at the hospital.

After Cole dragged Caulder home, Tukk went to bed. His oxygen levels started dipping again while he slept, so they put him back on oxygen. But sometime around 4 am he ripped it off his face and no one noticed, but his sats stayed up, so I was really, really hoping they'd let us go home that day. I'm not so sure Tukk wanted to leave. He was pretty stoked about the room service. How could you not be when you're eating mac and cheese, chocolate pudding, chocolate milk, and a chocolate milkshake? Sugar is almost as important is misdirected anger when you're sick.

 And everyone knows the best medicine is a cookie the size of your head. Cookies fix everything.

Cole spent all day Friday at the hospital with Tukk, but that night we got to bring him home. Without oxygen. Hooray!

He still had to stay home and take it easy for a few more days, but this care package from the cousins in Pocatello was the magic elixer that got him all the way better. He was so excited to see his name on such a giant box that he kissed it.

So not to worry - the Bott Boys are back on duty, protecting the world from evil with their ninja skillz.

And seriously, thanks for praying for the little man and spoiling him so much. He was singing a song the other day about, "My name is T man and evewybody loves me!" It makes my heart happy that we have so many people who love our kiddos. Even when they're giving us fweakin' grey hair.