Princess Calliope

I overheard a conversation the other day between Calliope (who was sitting outdoors on a blanket dressed in one of her many princess costumes and playing with dolls) and some random boy who was at least a year older and a head taller than she.


Boy: You're not a princess.

Calliope: Yes, I am.

Boy: You're not a REAL princess.

Calliope (puts down dolls, stands up, and actually flicks her hair at this kid): I have long hair like a princess, and I have a princess dress, so I AM a princess.

Boy: (Silence.)


I have never before been so proud to have a little princess for a daughter.

A Tale of Two Blood Draws

A couple weeks ago, I was dropping Benjamin off at school when he turned his face up to me for his goodbye kiss and I noticed that he was looking pretty yellow. Not just regular Asian-skin yellow, but extremely yellow. "My-hemoglobin-is-dropping-mommy-take-me-to-the-doctor" yellow. Then I looked at Calliope, and would'ja know it, her skin was looking pretty damn yellow, too. And her eyes? The whites were so yellow that I felt like I was being stared down by two gigantic lemon-glazed donuts. Sigh. Off to the doctor we went.

Both of the kids have had more than their fair share of blood draws and transfusions, but Calliope has the dubious distinction of having had more. She's the queen bee of blood draws. The phlebotomists always urge her to look away, but she just takes a deep breath, steels herself, and fixes her eyes on her arm while they stick the needle in. It's downright freaky.

Benjamin, on the other hand, isn't quite as stoic when it comes to getting his blood drawn. The tears started flowing before the phlebotomist even touched him, and I was powerless to comfort him. I asked his sister to please offer her support. "Calliope," I said gently. "Your brother is scared. Can you please comfort him and tell him it's going to be ok? Tell him it doesn't hurt. Help him be brave." Here is what she said:

"Ben Ben, it doesn't hurt. Ben Ben, you're crying, but *I* didn't cry. *I* was BRAVE. YOU are crying! HAHAHAHAHAHA!!!"

In addition to being freaky, I think she may also be a bit evil. Let's get a closer look at that.

{{shudder}}

Unfortunately, their test results weren't what we'd hoped they'd be, and they both needed transfusions. At the same time. This was a first. Usually, they take turns getting sick, becoming anemic, and getting transfused. This time, they'd be going in at the same time. So what's a mom to do? Take them across the street to the mall and buy them a crapload of toys in a failed bid to make them feel better. Oh, and pray, pray, pray that the nurses would be able to get the IV started in fewer than 10 attempts.

Usually, I have to argue, wheedle, and beg the nurses to call the hospital's IV Team to come start my kids' IVs. The IV Team members are like the Green Berets of the hospital. They're the ones they send in when nobody else can get the job done. Almost every other time, the nurses won't call the IV Team until after my kids have been poked no fewer than six times over the course of six or seven hours. They're sympathetic to my pleas that my kids are difficult to stick, but they still try themselves until they realize that mama wasn't lying about needing the specialists. This time, as soon as we stepped on the ward, I was pulled aside by one of the nurses who confessed that she followed me on Instagram and remembered how difficult my kids were to stick. She said in a conspiratorial tone, "I've already called the IV Team." I nearly cried with relief. Every time someone else even tried to look at my kids' veins, she would park herself in front of him or her and firmly say, "The IV Team has been called." The look on her face and crossed arms brooked no argument. Sure enough, the IV Team showed up shortly, and got the kids going with only a few attempts. Hallelujah!! Looks like we have a guardian angel, and her name is Amy.

My wonderful hubby left work early and came to the hospital so I could go home and get some rest, but I got this picture before I left:

It was really sweet to see them cuddled together in the same hospital bed. Nothing brings siblings together like blood bags and tubing. Oh, and an iPad. That helps, too.

"How Do You Make a Baby?"

This was our dinnertime conversation at Pitfire Pizza the other night…

Benjamin: You remember when Calliope came out of you?

Me: Huh?

Benjamin: How did she get out?

Me: A doctor helped her get out.

Calliope: But how did I get inside you?

Me: ...

Calliope: How do you make a baby?

Me: You mean out of clay? Why don't you guys show me!

Calliope and Benjamin: Yeah! Ok!!


I don't know how much longer I can stall these guys out!!

It's Been a While

I know, I know.... It has been ages. Since my last post over a year ago, here are a few things big and small that have happened...

• We went to Kansas City to see friends and family.
• We went to Disneyland. About 20 times.
• Calliope started taking hip hop classes with her brother.
• Benjamin started doing martial arts. 
• Calliope appeared in print ads for Janie & Jack, Splendid Littles and Lands End. 
• I went on a Bar Method bender that lasted all of one month.
• Vince started playing paddle tennis again.
• I stood in line at 2:30 in the morning to register Benjamin for a spot in a reknowned Mandarin immersion elementary school. 
• Calliope started preschool. 
• Benjamin graduated from preschool.
• Benjamin started Kindergarten (in aforementioned Mandarin immersion school, thank you very much)
• Benjamin learned how to write his name in Chinese.
• Calliope learned how to write her name in English.
• I got walking pneumonia.
• Benjamin got one blood transfusion.
• Calliope got five blood transfusions.
• Vince's office moved from Malibu to Agoura Hills.
• We tortured the kids with swim lessons.
• I got my first ever really bad sunburn.
• I cut of all of my hair a la Mia Farrow in Rosemary's Baby and had enough to time to grow it all back.
• My parents visited from Asia twice.
• We ate at A-Frame three times.
• We ate at Humble Potato five times.
• We ate at Pitfire Pizza about three dozen times.
• I shot over a hundred photo sessions.
• Vince's work week averaged between 55 (a good week) to 85 (a bad one) hours a week.
• Vince's company went public.
• My father-in-law celebrated his 70th birthday. 
• I bought four new strollers.
• I sold three old strollers.
• I read "Freckleface Strawberry" at bedtime a dozen times.
• I sang "Over the Rainbow" at bedtime over four hundred times.
• My friend and sister Deb moved away.
• We went to two weddings.
• Five friends had babies.
• One friend passed away.
• We celebrated our sixth wedding anniversary.

As I type up this list, I realize how very blessed I am in this life. I promise to write more. 

Double Whammy

I used to dread cold season when the kids were younger. Because of their blood disorder, run-of-the-mill sniffles would lead to a fall in their hemoglobin, which would lead to pale, yellowish skin, which would lead me to take them for blood tests, which would sometimes lead to blood transfusions. No fun! By their first birthdays, my little vampires had each received a bunch of blood transfusions, but as they got older, they needed them less and less. So I have to admit I got complacent. I'd see them looking pale and yellow and think to myself, "Well, they're always anemic... So they're just fiiiine." And when they started looking REALLY yellow like a real-life Bart and Lisa , I'd say to myself, "Well, they're anemic AND they're Asian... So they're still fiiiine." Luckily, they have amazing people in their lives who aren't quite as inured to their sallow complexions and who aren't shy about speaking up when they'e looking a little too Simpson-esque. That's what happened a few weeks ago when the director of B's preschool, the wonderful Ms. Romy, called me up to tell me that she thought he was looking a bit off. I drove to his school right away, but though I thought he did look pale, he was going to be fine. After all, it had been over a year since his last tranfusion. Even so, Ms. Romy insisted that I take him to the doctor for testing. I remember thinking to myself, "Geez, she's pushy!" but I grudgingly schlepped our asses to the ER anyway. And thank God I did, because Ms. Romy was right - Benjamin was, indeed in need of a transfusion. Thank you, Ms. Romy!

Blood - It Does a Body Good!

Benjamin's first year of life was rough. By the time he was 7 weeks old, he'd had two transfusions. He spent the week before his first Christmas as well as the week after his first birthday getting transfused, too. He continued spending time in and out of the doc's office for the next six months, when suddenly he seemed to get better, and for a long time, we almost forgot that transfusions were even something to worry about. But alas, the good times had to end.
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It started early one recent morning when the Boo woke with a fever. By the next day, it was obvious that he had fallen prey to a very nasty bug. Then instead of getting better, we saw the familiar signs that it might take more than chicken soup and TLC for him to recover; his skin became pale, his lips looked blue, and his pulse was racing. Worst of all, he just wasn't himself. Instead of being a naughty little pain in my ass, he was sluggish and quiet. Too quiet. So I called the doctor.
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Thus began the Hurry-Up-And-Wait Dance: Hurry to the pediatrician's for initial assessment! Find out that Benjamin's levels are low and rush to the blood draw center for more accurate testing! Go home and wait by the phone for the results! Wait for three hours, watching bad daytime TV in the meantime to get your mind off of things!! Finally, get the call telling you that either (A) the levels are fine so you can stay home, or (B) the levels are too low, so you have to get your ass to the hospital! All the times in the past year and a half, the phone calls were of the "A" variety, so we were surprised to receive the "B" call instead this time. But we did, so off we went. Calliope was pretty furious that she had to be awakened from her nap, and she let me have it the entire drive there:

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As you can see, Benjamin was so out of it that he slept through all that racket.
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Vince met us at the UCLA Med Center where the nurses tried to no avail to start an IV in Benjamin. This was actually rather difficult for me to watch. It's not that I enjoyed seeing my son get poked with needles before, it's just that the last time he had to go through this, he was much younger and not quite as verbal. "No" and "stop" were the only two words that we could really understand. This time, his words came out loud and clear. I heard "I wanna go home!!" quite a few times. Also, "Mama, they're hurting me!" That one went right through my heart. After over an hour of fruitless poking, they stopped. Rather than continue torturing him, the nurses sent us home with instructions to have him drink lots of liquids to plump up his veins and come back in the morning.
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The next morning, there were some familiar faces to greet us. Marisa, the head nurse for pediatric hematology was there with a big hug for Benjamin. So was nurse Charlotte, who remembered us from when we were there last year. Benjamin didn't remember her, but he probably will this time since she gave him a nice toy at the end of his visit. Thanks, Nurse Charlotte!

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We were set up in a room with a nice view of the Med Plaza and Westwood Blvd. Calliope didn't seem to understand that the glass she was pressing up against had no give, and she kept bonking her forehead against it.

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Then it was the moment of truth. Would the nurses be able to place the IV this time? It took a couple of tries, but they were. Hooray! None of the veins in his arms or hands proved viable, so the IV wound up in his foot. At first, he seemed upset about the strange apparatus protruding from it, but once we told him that his foot was now part robot, he got excited. What little boy doesn't dream of being a robot? So we tucked his little robot foot under his blanket, gave him his favorite monkey to clutch in his hands, and the transfusion got underway.
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As he always does during a transfusion, our sweet boy dozed off into a peaceful sleep. Hours later when it was complete, the change in him was huge:
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Haha! Just kidding!! The transformation isn't quite that dramatic, but it is, nonetheless, remarkable.
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Look at those rosy cheeks! Those red lips! If you think Benjamin looks annoyed in the "After" picture, you're right; I was so excited to see him looking healthy that I couldn't stop kissing him the moment he opened his eyes.
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Daddy was happy to see him feeling well, too.

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In the car on the way home, Benjamin was back to his old self. Remember how he was passed out on the way to the hospital even through all of Calliope's screaming? Well, that Boo was a distant memory.

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He's baaaaaack!

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That night, as I was putting Benjamin to bed, I told him that I was so proud of him and what a brave boy he had been that day. He looked me in the eye and said, "Mama, I don't want to be brave." I've become so used to going through all the medical stuff with the kids these past three years that I'm rarely affected by it anymore, but those words brought tears to my eyes. I think it's because they made me realize that he shouldn't have to be brave. More than that, it made me realize that there is only so much that a mother can do to shield her children from some of the more unpleasant aspects of life. So we do what we can do. We surpress the urge to rip to shreds the people who are causing them pain when we know that it's for their own good. We tell them the IV in their feet are magic robot extensions. Most importantly, we make sure that we're there when they open their eyes so we can shower them with love and kisses.

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High C

Since Calliope's birth, lots of people have asked me what spherocytosis is. Let me see if I can explain... Calliope's (and Benjamin's) red blood cells are spherical instead of donut-shaped. It is the spleen's job to filter out abnormally-shaped (i.e. non-donut-shaped) blood cells. A problem arises because the spleen doesn't recognize spherocytes as "normal" red blood cells, so what does it do? It QC's those pesky abnormal RBCs and destroys them. Since most of Calliope's red blood cells are round, this can lead to a lot of destroying, which in turn, can lead to low counts of RBCs. Most of the time, that's not a big deal, but when the counts get low enough, she can go into anemic shock, which is a big deal. Our goal is to avoid getting that low, which is why we monitor Calliope's blood counts, which brings me to the topic of this post: Calliope's recent trip to the hospital for her first post-NICU blood transfusion WHEW, that was a mouthful!
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There had been talk in recent weeks of tranfusing Calliope so that we could take a worry-free trip to Chicago for Vince's cousin's wedding. As you can imagine, I was less than thrilled about the prospect of submitting my child to an elective blood transfusion, and I had been on the fence about whether or not the trip was worth that. As it happens, Calliope took the decision out of my hands when her counts dropped low enough to necessitate a transfusion anyway. So last Wednesday, we checked into UCLA Santa Monica hospital to do just that.
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The room we checked in to happened to be two doors down from the room where Benjamin stayed for one of his first transfusions two years ago. I recognized Terri, the coolest nurse on planet. She was able to start an IV in one of Benjamin's impossibly tiny veins back then, and she did the same for Calliope this time around.

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Unfortunately, even the most gifted of hands can't prevent a baby from feeling the stick of the needle.
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Luckily, Calliope had visitors to lift her spirits. I wondered if Benjamin would have unpleasant memories of what happened the last time he was there. Would he see the shiny instruments and recoil in horror? Would the antiseptic smell of the room trigger a nasty flashback?
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Nope! He had seemed to have zero recollection of his past experiences. He climbed onto the bed, commandeered the remote control, and started wolfing down my dinner. Go ahead, Benjamin, make yourself riiiight at home.
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Of course, the Boo did more than just relax and pig out. He also took the time to cuddle with his baby sister and offer his support to her.
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That is so cute I think we should see it again and closer up:
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I'm sure that any mom would find the sight of her older spherocytotic child comforting his younger spherocytotic sibling right before she receives a blood transfusion to be extremely endearing. Right?

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The transfusion finally got started close to midnight. Poor Calliope wasn't too happy when the nurses came in to fuss with her IV and kicked up quite a ruckus.
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Once the process was underway, she was able to relax again. Over the course of the next four hours, Calliope received an infusion of "normal" red blood cells that her spleen would not destroy. The transfusion ended around 4 am, after which we both finally fell asleep.
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I awoke around 7 am to the sensation of Calliope's tiny body wriggling next to mine. As I groggily pulled myself from slumber, I heard the sound of cooing and giggling, too.
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That transfusion really made quite a difference! Calliope seemed like a different baby. The night before she was cranky and lethargic. Now, she seemed positively... high. That was my honest impression of her that morning. It was as though she'd been smoking the ganja and was ready to eat a bucket of KFC and watch "Half Baked." Am I allowed to say that, or should I get ready for CPS to come knocking on my door?
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We're jammin'!

Calliope Turns Two (Months)!

It's hard to believe that it's already been two months since Calliope was born. It seems like just the other day I was the size of a whale with swollen ankles and just one child to chase after. Now, I've lost my whale-esque proportions, but it's mainly because I've got two rugrats keeping me busy - so busy that I often forget to eat. Thanks, kids! No really... THANKS.
.Calliope's two-month birthday meant a trip to the doctor's office for her two-month checkup, but not before first taking a trip to the blood draw center for a routine check of her levels. And if getting blood drawn wasn't bad enough, she received her first round of vaccinations once she got to the ped's office.
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Yeah, Calliope wasn't too happy about that, either.

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Unfortunately, the results of her blood test that morning were less than perfect, so more tears were shed a few days later when her blood had to be drawn again to determine whether or not a transfusion would be necessary.
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Isn't it cute how the warmer on her arm matches her hoodie? Hey, I was just trying to see the bright side of things that morning!

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Luckily, the results of this test were better, so no transfusion necessary - WHEW! We'll be repeating the tests again in a few days, so cross fingers and toes!

Déjà Déjà Vu

When I was pregnant with Benjamin, I called my OB about anything out of the ordinary - headaches, cramps, pains, lack of pains, what-have-you. This time around, I've been a little less paranoid. Besides, the thought of trying to go in for a last-minute checkup with toddler in tow gives me the vapors. So my solution for most of what's ailed me is just to ignore, ignore, ignore. Unfortunately, certain things you can't ignore. Contractions and abdominal pain, for example. Those earned me my last two trips to the hospital. A fever of over 102 degrees is another example. And if you have that fever for more than a few days in a row, that means you get to take your third trip to the hospital. Man, I need a frequent flyer card.

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As soon as I arrived, the nurses took blood and other samples to test. They gave me Tylenol for my fever, and when that didn't work, they packed me in ice. Not comfy, but it did the trip! I also got hooked up to an IV so I could be given intravenous fluids and antibiotics. Even though I have pretty good veins, it took the nurse two tries to get a line going. Maybe my hormones were making me extra-sensitive, but it actually really stung! As I was about to say "ouch" in protest, I thought of the last time the Boo was in the hospital for a transfusion:

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That shut me up right away.

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Later on after Benjamin had gone to bed, Vince called our neighbor Shawn to come over and keep an eye on the monitor so he could visit me in the hospital. Since I hadn't eaten since that morning, he brought me McDonald's. And since I was bored out of my mind, he brought our latest Netflix arrival: House, M.D. Ironically, the episode we watched featured a pregnant woman on bedrest who had complications and delivered a very premature baby. Maybe I should've asked Vince to bring a different DVD.
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After Vince left, I tried get some sleep. In a way, I should have been happy to be where I was; it was, after all, the first time in almost two years that I'd have a chance to spend a night without a certain someone waking me up crying in the middle of the night! Ironically, it was his very absence that prevented me from getting my rest. I just missed him too damn much! I finally nodded off around 5 am, only to be awakened for another course of IV treatment at 6:30.

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By the early afternoon of my second day in the hospital, we were no closer to determining what was making me sick (in fact, they never did determine what the root cause was). My fever, however, had managed to stay under 100 for most of the day, which meant that I got to go home! My OB discharged me with instructions to see her in the morning for another shot of antibiotics. She also sternly cautioned me to "take it easy" and rest.
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Not likely!

H1N1 Tailgating

Swine flu fever has swept the country, and we've caught it. The metaphorical fever, that is, not the literal one. Unfortunately, vaccinations in Los Angeles County have been in pitifully short supply, which has only served to ratchet the fever up to... well... fever pitch. It's like the H1N1 vaccine is to 2009 what Tickle-Me-Elmo was to 1997.

For once, the Boo's blood condition was a blessing, allowing him to be one of the first kids in his pediatrician's office to receive the H1N1 vaccine. My being in a family way, however, has been of absolutely no help in my own quest to be vaccinated. None of my doctors even have it yet, so on a recent Saturday, me and two mommy friends, Sheila and Julie, lined up super early at Jesse Owens Park in the hopes of getting vaccinated through one of the county-run free clinics. The clinic was scheduled to open at 9:00 am, but we arrived just before 6:00 am. Like I said, it was SUPER-early. And, lest you think we were being paranoid, let me inform you that there was already a line of people ahead of us about a block long!

Our hubbies arrived with the kids about an hour later, and what should have been a morning of anticipatory drudgery took on a strangely festive feel. With the snacks, lawn chairs, and friends gathered together, it almost felt like we were engaging in some really boring, mid-thirties form of tailgating.

The kids had plenty around to keep them entertained. To the delight of Benjamin and Nolan, one of the police officers assigned to the event flashed the lights on his squad car.

And when they grew tired of that, the boys were content to just sit together on the stoop, where they hung out and admired Kayla's cute outfit.

By 9:00 am, the line had grown from being about a block long to being about a mile long. As we prepared to enter the gymnasium where they'd be giving us the good stuff, we surveyed the hundreds of people that had arrived after us. Sheila, Julie, and I couldn't help but feel mollified in our decision to be such overzealous early birds.

As chaotic as the scene outside the gymnasium was, inside it was very orderly and calm. We'd each been given a color-coded bracelet which let the dispensing staff know which tupe of vaccine to give us, and it took only minutes for each of us to be inoculated. Though Benjamin wouldn't be getting an injection, his eyes grew as big as saucers when he saw the table full of shiny needles.

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As soon as we'd all received our vaccines, we decided to treat ourselves to dim sum at our favorite spot in Gardena, the Sea Empress. We dined on swine spareribs, swine-filled water dumplings, swine and shrimp shui mai, and BBQ swine-stuffed steamed buns. All that waiting had left us famished, and we inhaled the food like we hadn't eaten in weeks. You might even say that we ate like pigs.

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Stay healthy, everyone!

The Boo's New Smile

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Not too long after the first teeth started sprouting in Benjamin's mouth last year, we noticed that the two front ones seemed a little... odd. Rather than smooth chiclets, they resembled curved crescents. When I pointed this out to Boo's pediatrician, she said that it might have something to do with his blood disorder and instructed me to take him to a pediatric dentist. After a cursory look inside his mouth, the dentist told me Benjamin's teeth were "normal," said there was no such correlation between Benjamin's blood condition and the state of his teeth, and sent us on our way. Within months, the chipping had become much more pronounced, and I decided it was time for a second opinion. Enter the wonderful Dr. Walden Yu, referred to us by a neighbor.

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Dr. Yu examined the Boo's tiny mouth and informed us that his two front teeth weren't just chipped; they had cavities. Cavities!! He went on to confirm what our pediatrician had suspected all those months ago: that Benjamin's dental woes were, indeed, related to his spherocytosis. In a nutshell, kids who don't get enough oxygen often form imperfect enamel. After silently cursing Vince's genes, I scheduled an appointment to come back in two weeks and have the cavities filled.

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Vince took the morning off of work to accompany us to the dentist. He was there not only for moral support, but also to help hold the Boo down so Dr. Yu could work on those two teeth. Luckily, there were DVD players installed above each chair to help distract his little patients. I selected "Beauty and the Beast" for Benjamin to watch and prayed that he wouldn't been too freaked out.

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He was. The Texas Chainsaw Massacre could have been playing for all the good that DVD player did. I guess nothing can distract a toddler from the fact that he is being held against his will while someone is drilling inside of his mouth. As you can see in the video, Benjamin had gotten so worked up that he'd managed to kick off one shoe and one sock during the procedure. The other thing you can see is that Vince was smiling. I know that he hates musicals, so that leaves just one conclusion: I married a sadist.

Half an hour of drilling and filling later, Benjamin emerged plus two perfect front teeth and minus one pint of sweat. You can't tell from the picture, but there was a dinner plate-sized wet mark on the front of Vince's shirt where Benjamin's head had been restrained- er, resting comfortably during the procedure.

I have to admit that we were pretty shocked by the cosmetic change in Benjamin's smile. We'd grown to love his crooked little crescent-shaped teeth, and it was odd to see them replaced by perfect pearly whites. Then again, we do live in Los Angeles, home of Hollywood and Dr. 90210. So, as they say, when in Rome...
But I draw the line at Botox. No Botox for Benjamin - at least not until he's ten.