I love my OB.
She is practical and funny and sweet, and has all the answers. And, most awesomely, she lets me bring Little One along and doesn't bat an eye when She colors on the exam table paper or interjects random thoughts into the medical interview. Today she even taught Little One to skip. She rocks.
So Little One has accompanied me to all my OB appointments so far, including the ultrasounds. She pretty well knows the drill. Today She sat quietly, scribbling notes on Her magnetic drawing board, until OB got up and headed for the supply counter.
Little One: "Ok! Mommy. Lie down. Time lie down mommy, lie down right there! Hol-still. No more talk you mamma. Time- hear- BABY SISTER!!"
She was right, of course. We heard a sweet, strong heartbeat through the doppler. Then OB showed us both where the little Miss had Her feet and elbows arranged. She noted that Miss has gone ahead and turned upside-down, all ready for Go time, which is pretty exciting.
Have we gotten to that part already? I can hardly believe it. Sure, 5 months ago every hour seemed like an eon, but now that we are so close it seems to have rushed by. As far as we can tell, Baby Miss is healthy and right on target and doing great!
And smart! She sends coded messages, apparently. So precocious. I had no idea, myself, but Little One (also smart) is luckily around to decode them.
When we saw J later on, Little One was filling him in on the details of the appointment:
Little One: "And! Then! We got hear- BABY SISTER!"
J:"Oh, you did?!"
LO: "Yes! Yes, hear her!!! She said me, 'love you! I love you!'"
J: "Oh, did she?"
LO: "Yes! I hear this. She say it loud!"
I don't have the skilled ear that Little One does. But you know, now that She mentions it. If I try to recall the sounds from the doppler today... I think I can make out the words.
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
He Also Brought Chocolate
Tomorrow we go to the hospital so Little One can get stuck with more needles. Yuck. We will go in a snow and/or ice storm. Yuck.
BUT, She is feeling so significantly better that we got to take Her out yesterday and have lots of fun. Yay! And by we, I mean me AND J, because he had a whole day off. Yay!
And he cooked dinner. Yay!
And before he cooked it, he needed a few things at the store, so he and little one went to get them, and I got to stay home and clean the house. Which we all know is sadly, sickly, in my perverse mind also a Yay!
And when they came home, Little One came in dragging a bunch of flowers nearly as big as She is. Just in time to replace the fading bouquet that J showed up with last week for no apparent reason. Sure looks like the yays are winning, huh?
I have to say. Climbing hills is a terribly lot better when you have someone like J on belay.
BUT, She is feeling so significantly better that we got to take Her out yesterday and have lots of fun. Yay! And by we, I mean me AND J, because he had a whole day off. Yay!
And he cooked dinner. Yay!
And before he cooked it, he needed a few things at the store, so he and little one went to get them, and I got to stay home and clean the house. Which we all know is sadly, sickly, in my perverse mind also a Yay!
And when they came home, Little One came in dragging a bunch of flowers nearly as big as She is. Just in time to replace the fading bouquet that J showed up with last week for no apparent reason. Sure looks like the yays are winning, huh?
I have to say. Climbing hills is a terribly lot better when you have someone like J on belay.
Happy
Tucking Little One in for Her nap today, She snuggled into Her blankets and squeezed Her stuffed hippo up under Her chin. I kissed Her forehead and turned to go, when She told me to wait, and asked me to come back.
"Mommy! Come here. Please. Come here, right. here. closa me."
She pointed at a spot right by Her nose. "Come right here, mommy. Tell you sompin!"
So I knelt down by the bed, leaned way in, and rested my head right next to Hers, so that I could feel Her little breaths on my cheek.
"What is it, Little One? Tell me."
Her eyes were sparkly. She let out a giggle and grinned. She nuzzled in even closer, cupping Her hand on my chin and looking me eye to eye. Her eyelashes were almost kissing mine.
"Mommy. Little One.... happy."
I smiled.
"Oh! Mommy happy too! Mommy happy. Daddy happy! Hippo happy! Little One happy! Aaaaall happy! Everyone family happy mamma!!"
She giggled again, kissed me on my nose, and burrowed into Her blankets.
"Night night mommy. See soon!"
I walked out, using little clouds as stepping stones, and realizing I had just gotten everything I want in the world. If I could have one wish, one really big one before I die? I think it would be that when I do, that the last thing I ever hear would be those same words again. 'Every one family happy.' And I would go feeling like it had all turned out right.
"Mommy! Come here. Please. Come here, right. here. closa me."
She pointed at a spot right by Her nose. "Come right here, mommy. Tell you sompin!"
So I knelt down by the bed, leaned way in, and rested my head right next to Hers, so that I could feel Her little breaths on my cheek.
"What is it, Little One? Tell me."
Her eyes were sparkly. She let out a giggle and grinned. She nuzzled in even closer, cupping Her hand on my chin and looking me eye to eye. Her eyelashes were almost kissing mine.
"Mommy. Little One.... happy."
I smiled.
"Oh! Mommy happy too! Mommy happy. Daddy happy! Hippo happy! Little One happy! Aaaaall happy! Everyone family happy mamma!!"
She giggled again, kissed me on my nose, and burrowed into Her blankets.
"Night night mommy. See soon!"
I walked out, using little clouds as stepping stones, and realizing I had just gotten everything I want in the world. If I could have one wish, one really big one before I die? I think it would be that when I do, that the last thing I ever hear would be those same words again. 'Every one family happy.' And I would go feeling like it had all turned out right.
Sunday, January 16, 2011
What's Going One With Little One
I may have mentioned the cold Little One picked up the day after Her fever went away.
It was joined by a nasty stomach bug, both of which have politely stayed with us to welcome the respiratory infection that is our most recent visitor. We aren't laughing any more. For the most part, Little One is an amazing trooper and in good spirits, wanting to play. Unfortunately I really can't bring Her around other people, especially kids. Because believe me, She has shared some of the love with me, and no one wants what She's got. Any of it.
The weather is frigid and nasty. Though we've worked up the courage and swathed Her in layers a couple times to play in the snow, for the most part we've been stuck indoors. Multiple layers are not the best option for tummy troubles, and now that the cold air brings on fits of hacking coughs, we've given up.
We've barely left the house all week.
I've turned into kind of a whiner over here I think....but I have to admit that it takes a little bit of a toll to spend long days in the house, aching for my baby who I just can't get better. Right now I'm just hoping that She gets well in time to get out at least a little bit before it's time for Her to be sick again.
By which I mean the Fever.
Little One has several teams of doctors working on what's going on with Her, and they vary a bit on the specific type of problem they are voting for in the office mystery-diagnosis pool. But at this point they all agree on the main idea, on the overarching problem. It seems that Little One has a sort of odd glitch in Her immune system, which causes it to ramp up and go a bit haywire for no particular reason. Apparently this happens to people. Not a lot. But enough to have a name and some studies and tests to accessorize with. It's a severe inflammatory response to nothing external, but it is related to time.
It occurs in cycles, about once per month. Which means that to within a week or so, we can expect Little One to spike high fevers about every 4-5 weeks. Good to know, because I won't have to keep dragging her to be tortured in Emergency Rooms every month thinking She has some infection. But rough because it also means that even if She never gets another cold, or stomach bug, or infection, or allergic reaction (which is obviously not possible), She will still spend about a week a month miserable and in bed.
It's a group of 'syndromes' all related to the same gene, but they come in different flavors. We're waiting on tests and more tests and time to figure out which one we'll be having. Some are worse than others, with complications later on, some just the fevers, but most are outgrown by adolescence or adulthood. So it's lucky.
Lucky that her problem will be inconvenient, uncomfortable, un-fun, but in all likelihood not life-threatening or dangerous. Lucky that once a month is not all the time, and that in between She will be ok, and keep growing and learning and dancing around the living room.
Still. It's been a long few weeks, and I've been reminded sometimes of Tu Nidito.
In college J and I both volunteered for at Tu Nidito, a fantastic organization. Really, fantastic. One thing I did there was help lead support groups for kids with serious illnesses and their siblings.
I'm reminded of how weary the parents would be sometimes. Of little things they said, about how hard it was not to able to participate in life, with regular routines and relationships. How the emotional toll of worrying for and hurting for the suffering of their children was like a constant weight crushing them, one that had to be fought every day. I remember talks about how impossible it seemed to hold out against the pity and the exhaustion and maintain the structure of a normal existence for their children; when it was so much easier on their patience, their tiredness, their desire to alleviate pain and sadness in their babies to allow rules to slide, concessions to be made, treats to be showered, whining and demanding to be tolerated. How hard it was not to allow healthy siblings to be shunted aside and made to sacrifice. These small tastes we've had of chronic illness, like grease flying in tiny droplets from a sputtering pan, sting.
They make me guiltily thankful that Little One is not a child with a horrible, debilitating, constant illness. They make me revere those parents in my memories even more than I did before. Which was a lot.
To tell the truth, they make me wonder if I would be able to withstand something like that. And even wonder a little bit if I have the fortitude as a mother, the resourcefulness, to find a way to cope with this small thing 1/4 of the time for years and years to come. In a way that keeps our little home life here from derailing every time, so that so much time is transitioning between our "sick" patterns and "normal" patterns that we start to wonder which way is up.
Admittedly, everything is magnified by the fatigue and hormonal swings of pregnancy. Admittedly, I'm on the emotional side already, a born worrier. But still, I'm surprised by how tired I've become in the last few weeks. Not sleepy tired, muscle tired, but heavy tired. Heart tired. I'm kind of disappointed that I haven't figured out a way to handle this better yet, and part of it is being daunted by the stretch of time yawning ahead of us, in which I might expect to repeat this cycle many dozens of times. I know it will get easier. We'll get "used to" it. I will figure out ways to manage things better for all of us, as we go.
But it's turning out to be more of a challenge than I would have expected.
I remind myself that She won't have regular sickness on the heels of every fever, that this was just a bad spell. I remind myself of all those Luckys up there, of the families at Tu Nidito and I am thankful with everything I have that She's going to be OK.
But at the same time, with Her allergies I can't help but feel a tiny bit like She's been struck by lightning twice. Hadn't we filled some cosmic quota? I worry about little things like missing that much school, like having the consistency that I think is so crucial for little ones, like the expense that will come with having to get my hair dyed when all the gray hairs start cropping up from watching Her sweat and whimper. Little molehills that go clamoring over one anothers' backs and piling up until, magnified by the mommy lens, they start to look like a mountain. Well. A hill, anyways.
So, that's what's going on with Little One. As far as we know. So far. We have some more appointments and blood to be drawn this week. And so...I guess we'll just wait and see, and do what everyone does with hills, and keep climbing.
It was joined by a nasty stomach bug, both of which have politely stayed with us to welcome the respiratory infection that is our most recent visitor. We aren't laughing any more. For the most part, Little One is an amazing trooper and in good spirits, wanting to play. Unfortunately I really can't bring Her around other people, especially kids. Because believe me, She has shared some of the love with me, and no one wants what She's got. Any of it.
The weather is frigid and nasty. Though we've worked up the courage and swathed Her in layers a couple times to play in the snow, for the most part we've been stuck indoors. Multiple layers are not the best option for tummy troubles, and now that the cold air brings on fits of hacking coughs, we've given up.
We've barely left the house all week.
I've turned into kind of a whiner over here I think....but I have to admit that it takes a little bit of a toll to spend long days in the house, aching for my baby who I just can't get better. Right now I'm just hoping that She gets well in time to get out at least a little bit before it's time for Her to be sick again.
By which I mean the Fever.
Little One has several teams of doctors working on what's going on with Her, and they vary a bit on the specific type of problem they are voting for in the office mystery-diagnosis pool. But at this point they all agree on the main idea, on the overarching problem. It seems that Little One has a sort of odd glitch in Her immune system, which causes it to ramp up and go a bit haywire for no particular reason. Apparently this happens to people. Not a lot. But enough to have a name and some studies and tests to accessorize with. It's a severe inflammatory response to nothing external, but it is related to time.
It occurs in cycles, about once per month. Which means that to within a week or so, we can expect Little One to spike high fevers about every 4-5 weeks. Good to know, because I won't have to keep dragging her to be tortured in Emergency Rooms every month thinking She has some infection. But rough because it also means that even if She never gets another cold, or stomach bug, or infection, or allergic reaction (which is obviously not possible), She will still spend about a week a month miserable and in bed.
It's a group of 'syndromes' all related to the same gene, but they come in different flavors. We're waiting on tests and more tests and time to figure out which one we'll be having. Some are worse than others, with complications later on, some just the fevers, but most are outgrown by adolescence or adulthood. So it's lucky.
Lucky that her problem will be inconvenient, uncomfortable, un-fun, but in all likelihood not life-threatening or dangerous. Lucky that once a month is not all the time, and that in between She will be ok, and keep growing and learning and dancing around the living room.
Still. It's been a long few weeks, and I've been reminded sometimes of Tu Nidito.
In college J and I both volunteered for at Tu Nidito, a fantastic organization. Really, fantastic. One thing I did there was help lead support groups for kids with serious illnesses and their siblings.
I'm reminded of how weary the parents would be sometimes. Of little things they said, about how hard it was not to able to participate in life, with regular routines and relationships. How the emotional toll of worrying for and hurting for the suffering of their children was like a constant weight crushing them, one that had to be fought every day. I remember talks about how impossible it seemed to hold out against the pity and the exhaustion and maintain the structure of a normal existence for their children; when it was so much easier on their patience, their tiredness, their desire to alleviate pain and sadness in their babies to allow rules to slide, concessions to be made, treats to be showered, whining and demanding to be tolerated. How hard it was not to allow healthy siblings to be shunted aside and made to sacrifice. These small tastes we've had of chronic illness, like grease flying in tiny droplets from a sputtering pan, sting.
They make me guiltily thankful that Little One is not a child with a horrible, debilitating, constant illness. They make me revere those parents in my memories even more than I did before. Which was a lot.
To tell the truth, they make me wonder if I would be able to withstand something like that. And even wonder a little bit if I have the fortitude as a mother, the resourcefulness, to find a way to cope with this small thing 1/4 of the time for years and years to come. In a way that keeps our little home life here from derailing every time, so that so much time is transitioning between our "sick" patterns and "normal" patterns that we start to wonder which way is up.
Admittedly, everything is magnified by the fatigue and hormonal swings of pregnancy. Admittedly, I'm on the emotional side already, a born worrier. But still, I'm surprised by how tired I've become in the last few weeks. Not sleepy tired, muscle tired, but heavy tired. Heart tired. I'm kind of disappointed that I haven't figured out a way to handle this better yet, and part of it is being daunted by the stretch of time yawning ahead of us, in which I might expect to repeat this cycle many dozens of times. I know it will get easier. We'll get "used to" it. I will figure out ways to manage things better for all of us, as we go.
But it's turning out to be more of a challenge than I would have expected.
I remind myself that She won't have regular sickness on the heels of every fever, that this was just a bad spell. I remind myself of all those Luckys up there, of the families at Tu Nidito and I am thankful with everything I have that She's going to be OK.
But at the same time, with Her allergies I can't help but feel a tiny bit like She's been struck by lightning twice. Hadn't we filled some cosmic quota? I worry about little things like missing that much school, like having the consistency that I think is so crucial for little ones, like the expense that will come with having to get my hair dyed when all the gray hairs start cropping up from watching Her sweat and whimper. Little molehills that go clamoring over one anothers' backs and piling up until, magnified by the mommy lens, they start to look like a mountain. Well. A hill, anyways.
So, that's what's going on with Little One. As far as we know. So far. We have some more appointments and blood to be drawn this week. And so...I guess we'll just wait and see, and do what everyone does with hills, and keep climbing.
January Has Been Excommunicated.
Peanuts. Look at this picture. Just look at it!
Aw. A sweet photograph. A father, playing with his daughter. Spending a lovely Sunday cherishing his baby, making Her little eyes shine with joy by complimenting Her superior fake-tea brewing, and the excellent qualities of Her invisible milk and sugar. Stirring with a teeny-tiny spoon, indulging Her with mimicked sips. How darling. How cute!
But wait.
Something is wrong, with this picture. Something just...out of place...not quite right.....
Something is there, that doesn't belong. Did you spot it yet, Peanuts?
Do you see it? Look closely.
Hmmmm, you're thinking, scanning over the pink tea cups, the rumpled weekend hair, the face of my dear, beloved husband- I don't see any- wait. Wait a minute! Is...that....? No! It can't be! Is that a...?!
Oh. Let me tell you friends. Brace for it. Yes it is.
That, is a MUSTACHE.
A terrible thing hath come to pass, in the internal medicine department of the hospital where my J spends the vast majority of his life. A terrible, horrible thing. And this thing hath been so named:
"Mustache Manuary".
Oh yes. Yes it actually has. And I know this because J, entering it as evidence into his defense, sent me a copy of the inter-departmental email stating the official Mustache Manuary decree. In it, J pointed out that not only is "everyone doing it", but that the Manuary Decree clearly states that anyone backing down from the furry challenge and shaving (or being shaved by their wives in their sleep) before the month is out will be shamelessly and ruthlessly ridiculed and ostracized.
Apparently, being a doctor is the same thing as being in a frat. Who knew.
So, in showing solidarity with the other, erm, professionals (that people entrust their lives to how scary is that) J has entered into Mustache Manuary with enthusiasm. A little too much of it, if you ask me.
Listen. If you are a year-round mustachioed man, no offense. One of my very favorite people on earth has been a mustache man for most of my life! In fact I can barely imagine the man without it. That would be my dad. Whiiiich makes the 'stache all the more incongruous when it pops up on the face of the guy I like to make out with. Ah!
Now, you might think that I would do a little photo shop work this month. That I might don dark sunglasses and a wide-brimmed hat in public, but no. Here I am, pointing it out to you. This is because:
A. I cannot live a lie. This kind of dark secret can eat you from the inside, Peanuts. Eat. You. Alive. Like the caterpillar that has eaten J's lip.
B. I'm on a good complaining roll this month and this is a great addition to my whining collection.
C. I have an evil, conniving streak, and I want there to be proof of this. Proof. In case I ever need some good blackmail material.
D. I have an evil, conniving streak and I want there to be proof of this. Because someday I am going to want to do something completely ridiculous that will make J cringe and groan, and I will remind him of this Manuary and that he owes me.
E. It's kind of funny.
And there you have it, Peanuts. You are all my witnesses.
Now, I love the big lug and I think he's handsome no matter what happens. Even if it causes me to think of my dad a little bit, or Ron Burgundy. And to understand fully why closing eyes during kissing was invented (It was probably started back in the 19th century when those hideous handlebars and porkchop sideburns were in vogue).
But I can tell you that between Little One's illnesses, the Ban, and the 'Stache, January 2011 is not going to end fast enough or in my good graces. Oh excuse me, Manuary.
Curse you, Manuary! If you were a tangible entity I would flick you right on the nose! But since I can't, I will just ignore you, and hope you go away. I will look forward to February. A month about Love, and our mother's birthdays, and chocolate.
As far as I'm concerned, the New Year starts in 17 days.
But wait.
Something is wrong, with this picture. Something just...out of place...not quite right.....
Something is there, that doesn't belong. Did you spot it yet, Peanuts?
Do you see it? Look closely.
Hmmmm, you're thinking, scanning over the pink tea cups, the rumpled weekend hair, the face of my dear, beloved husband- I don't see any- wait. Wait a minute! Is...that....? No! It can't be! Is that a...?!
Oh. Let me tell you friends. Brace for it. Yes it is.
That, is a MUSTACHE.
A terrible thing hath come to pass, in the internal medicine department of the hospital where my J spends the vast majority of his life. A terrible, horrible thing. And this thing hath been so named:
"Mustache Manuary".
Oh yes. Yes it actually has. And I know this because J, entering it as evidence into his defense, sent me a copy of the inter-departmental email stating the official Mustache Manuary decree. In it, J pointed out that not only is "everyone doing it", but that the Manuary Decree clearly states that anyone backing down from the furry challenge and shaving (or being shaved by their wives in their sleep) before the month is out will be shamelessly and ruthlessly ridiculed and ostracized.
Apparently, being a doctor is the same thing as being in a frat. Who knew.
So, in showing solidarity with the other, erm, professionals (that people entrust their lives to how scary is that) J has entered into Mustache Manuary with enthusiasm. A little too much of it, if you ask me. Listen. If you are a year-round mustachioed man, no offense. One of my very favorite people on earth has been a mustache man for most of my life! In fact I can barely imagine the man without it. That would be my dad. Whiiiich makes the 'stache all the more incongruous when it pops up on the face of the guy I like to make out with. Ah!
Now, you might think that I would do a little photo shop work this month. That I might don dark sunglasses and a wide-brimmed hat in public, but no. Here I am, pointing it out to you. This is because:
A. I cannot live a lie. This kind of dark secret can eat you from the inside, Peanuts. Eat. You. Alive. Like the caterpillar that has eaten J's lip.
B. I'm on a good complaining roll this month and this is a great addition to my whining collection.
C. I have an evil, conniving streak, and I want there to be proof of this. Proof. In case I ever need some good blackmail material.
D. I have an evil, conniving streak and I want there to be proof of this. Because someday I am going to want to do something completely ridiculous that will make J cringe and groan, and I will remind him of this Manuary and that he owes me.
E. It's kind of funny.
And there you have it, Peanuts. You are all my witnesses.
Now, I love the big lug and I think he's handsome no matter what happens. Even if it causes me to think of my dad a little bit, or Ron Burgundy. And to understand fully why closing eyes during kissing was invented (It was probably started back in the 19th century when those hideous handlebars and porkchop sideburns were in vogue).
But I can tell you that between Little One's illnesses, the Ban, and the 'Stache, January 2011 is not going to end fast enough or in my good graces. Oh excuse me, Manuary.
Curse you, Manuary! If you were a tangible entity I would flick you right on the nose! But since I can't, I will just ignore you, and hope you go away. I will look forward to February. A month about Love, and our mother's birthdays, and chocolate.
As far as I'm concerned, the New Year starts in 17 days.
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
The BAN
As I may have mentioned one or 17 times, my favorite coping mechanism when I get stressed out is to bake. Something about chocolate melting into butter or something rising and turning golden in the oven just switches my brain to "bliss". I like the way it makes the whole house warm and sweet-smelling. I like how precise and predictable the measurements are; exactly one teaspoon of vanilla, every time. So that I can go through the steps by memory to the gentle whir of the mixer. Especially when I know that my grandmother, and probably her grandmother, and some distant relative in corset probably mixed the same things together and it smelled the same way. I like knowing that (with rare exceptions) people will like it when it's done.
People just aren't as picky about butter and sugar as they are about spinach or cilantro. It's kind of a common denominator. Whether we feel guilty about it or not, we all love something sweet and decadent. So I also love that when I bake it's something I can share. I can spread the de-stressing joy. And unlike dinner, which is gone in a night (except maybe to make a half-hearted appearance as a tupperwared lunch) a chocolate-caramel cheesecake or a batch of cherry-vanilla scones lasts for days. I'm a busy person, ya know. I can't afford to bliss out all the time. I have to get it all out of the way and stock up for the week.
But, sadly, not everyone shares my love of self-rising flour. Like my dear husband. Don't get me wrong. While a batch of cookies might last me a week and a half, it might last J three days tops. It's not that he doesn't think they are yummy. It's just that, for some reason, he doesn't think he can live on chocolate chips alone. "If you're in the kitchen cooking stuff, why can't you make us food?" He begs me. "If you have to bake, can't you make lasagnas or something? Something that we can live on? That won't clog my arteries and send me to an early grave?!" He's so unreasonable! ...Well truth be told, Peanuts, if It's been a really rough day, it may just happen that J will come home to a house filled with cranberry lemon bars or pumpkin cinnamon rolls- things that took ages to concoct- and then see me breaking out the tupperware at 6pm. I have priorities people.
But for some reason, J thinks that "nutrition" should rank higher.
During the Christmas season, I both had some stressful things swirling around my head, and a good excuse (presents for everyone on the block!) to go into a true frenzy. I made several dozen of about 12 different kinds of cookies. Many of which "had" to be decorated by hand, one by one, so that they swarmed the counters and marched like gingerbread infantry across the dining room table. I may or may not have been up at 4am picking out all the blue and brown sprinkles from the variety tub to use as angel-cookie eyes. Ahem.
And so J, ever the sane one in this relationship, had to draw the line somewhere. Enough is enough! he decided. And, apparently, four costco packages of butter in one month is Enough.
And so he has instituted THE BAN. A complete ban on baking (unless it is a casserole or some other dinner type dish) and desserts of all kinds. Until- this is the worst part guys!- until further notice. Which means- indefinitely. Lets add some dramatic violin and percussion right here. This is serious.
To cope with the loss of my favorite zen activity, I have had to fall on my back-ups, which include eating vast amounts of chocolate (seriously, loads of it) and going to the gym. Which I can only hope will somehow cancel each other out. It's kinda hard to tell how much of me is baby and how much is Hershey.
Because normally, I would have churned out like 3 cream-pies, some brownies, and a couple loaves of banana bread this last week or two. We've had a lot going on! I will share some of that soon. Right now, however, the dog is looking guilty, the washing machine is off-balance, and Little One is waking up. So I'm going to shut the computer and grab some chocolate chips- to inhale, not to bake with- and I hope that you will all be greatly impressed by my fortitude and love for my J. And that you will pray for my mental survival. (Or send more chocolate).
Monday, January 10, 2011
A Good Kind of Bad
Little One's fever dissipated on Friday. So despite maybe our better judgment (since She was still recovering), we took Her to a birthday party on Saturday. It was a family party down in Southern Maryland. A 2 hour trip each way, so that we spent twice as much time driving as we did jumping on inflatable castles. Which was a good thing; She slept the whole way there and back.
At the party She got to have treats- crackers and even a packet of smarties from the pinata. She also picked up some kind of kid-germ party favor that causes nastyness to ooze from several orifices, a voice that sounds like She needs to gargle some WD-40, and fits of sneezing that are, I'm sorry, downright hilarious.
J and I were laughing over one of these last night, in fact, when I mentioned that gosh, we are awfully chipper about having a sick child. AGAIN. And he hit the nail on the head when he said, "Well, its weird, but I guess it's just nice to have Her be... normal sick." True. Bring on the boogers.
At the party She got to have treats- crackers and even a packet of smarties from the pinata. She also picked up some kind of kid-germ party favor that causes nastyness to ooze from several orifices, a voice that sounds like She needs to gargle some WD-40, and fits of sneezing that are, I'm sorry, downright hilarious.
J and I were laughing over one of these last night, in fact, when I mentioned that gosh, we are awfully chipper about having a sick child. AGAIN. And he hit the nail on the head when he said, "Well, its weird, but I guess it's just nice to have Her be... normal sick." True. Bring on the boogers.
Sunday, January 9, 2011
Chick Flick
J: "Hey we got a new Netflix DVD today."
C: "Oh good! Ha ha. You can watch it with me tonight."
J: ""ha ha'? Uh oh, what is it?"
C: "Oh, just one of the chickiest chick flicks of all time."
Little One: "Ooooh! Please Mommy! Little One watch this movie? Pleeeeeaaaase?"
C: "Oh, Little One. I don't think you will like this movie. This is more for mommy and daddy, sweetheart".
Little One: "Oh, please mommy! Yes like it! Little One LOVE chickies! Cheep cheep! Fun! Daddy! Daddy please tell mommy yes Little One can watch chickies! Cheep cheep movie, chickie movie. Please!"
Poor J. I'm sure he'd prefer watching some chickens, as well. Unfortunately, he will be stuck watching me watch Cary Grant. Ha ha.
C: "Oh good! Ha ha. You can watch it with me tonight."
J: ""ha ha'? Uh oh, what is it?"
C: "Oh, just one of the chickiest chick flicks of all time."
Little One: "Ooooh! Please Mommy! Little One watch this movie? Pleeeeeaaaase?"
C: "Oh, Little One. I don't think you will like this movie. This is more for mommy and daddy, sweetheart".
Little One: "Oh, please mommy! Yes like it! Little One LOVE chickies! Cheep cheep! Fun! Daddy! Daddy please tell mommy yes Little One can watch chickies! Cheep cheep movie, chickie movie. Please!"
Friday, January 7, 2011
Karate Kid
With all that's been going on with Little One lately (and the last few days have been a bit rough), it can be easy to lose sight of the fact that there is, after all, another little missy in there too. Well She decided to get my attention.
After too long a hiatus due to sicknesses and holidays, tonight my husband finally pushed me out the door with my yoga mat and said, "GO".
So there I was, awkwardly attempting a tricky pose with a basketball under my shirt throwing of my center of gravity already, when little miss decided She had a prime opportunity to remind me that She's in there, and She won't be left out!
I'll tell you what She did, Peanuts. She kicked me.
Out of the blue! And really hard. So much so that, I kid you not, She knocked me clear out of my pose. And got the attention of not just me, but the whole class.
After being pretty serious, and maybe kinda stressed, and oh all right fine a little down this week, it was just the jolt I needed to snap me out of it and get me laughing. It's interesting how sometimes kids take care of us. Like giving us a swift kick when we need it, and reminding us that even when things get rough in spots, the rest of life is still there, being miraculous.
After too long a hiatus due to sicknesses and holidays, tonight my husband finally pushed me out the door with my yoga mat and said, "GO".
So there I was, awkwardly attempting a tricky pose with a basketball under my shirt throwing of my center of gravity already, when little miss decided She had a prime opportunity to remind me that She's in there, and She won't be left out!
I'll tell you what She did, Peanuts. She kicked me.
Out of the blue! And really hard. So much so that, I kid you not, She knocked me clear out of my pose. And got the attention of not just me, but the whole class.
After being pretty serious, and maybe kinda stressed, and oh all right fine a little down this week, it was just the jolt I needed to snap me out of it and get me laughing. It's interesting how sometimes kids take care of us. Like giving us a swift kick when we need it, and reminding us that even when things get rough in spots, the rest of life is still there, being miraculous.
The Love Saga Continues
Awhile ago, Little One and I had a visit with Her long-time beau, O.
Just before my camera died, I snagged this little video clip of their playdate.
It's good evidence of Little One and two of the greatest loves of Her life. O, and dancing.
I like how, as much as She clearly appreciates the affections of Mr. Suave there, She still cant...quite...stop...shakin' it to the beat!
You can't stop love, Peanuts.
But you can't stop Little One's party train, either.
Just before my camera died, I snagged this little video clip of their playdate.
It's good evidence of Little One and two of the greatest loves of Her life. O, and dancing.
I like how, as much as She clearly appreciates the affections of Mr. Suave there, She still cant...quite...stop...shakin' it to the beat!
You can't stop love, Peanuts.
But you can't stop Little One's party train, either.
Thursday, January 6, 2011
Using My Words Against Me
C (handing Her a piece of paper): "Little One, can you please throw this away for me?"
Little One (pats me on the leg with an air of condescension): "Mommy. You do this. You're a big gurl."
Guess I can't argue with that.
Little One (pats me on the leg with an air of condescension): "Mommy. You do this. You're a big gurl."
Guess I can't argue with that.
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
They Don't Call Him Jolly For Nothing
I forgot to add that despite her early skepticism about that so called "Santa" dude, the more She became convinced that for some reason the guy was planning on giving presents, the more She interested She became. She was even excited to go to the hospital and see the big guy. She wasn't the least bit scared when we got there and She saw him in person, in all his red faux-velvet glory. She went right up to him and offered Her favorite festive greeting.
"Happy 'Ween!"
She sat on the lap. She solemnly swore She was a good girl. She thanked him profusely for the elfin gift that was bestowed upon Her for Her bravery. And She came back a second time, when the other kids had left.
There was holiday music playing over the intercom, and so, naturally, She asked him to dance.
He did.
Dear 2011: This is not the way to make a good first impression.
I wrote that last post a few days ago, but it took me awhile to get around to adding pictures.
I decided to go ahead and post it, even though the part about Little One's fevers is already outdated now.
Last night She spiked a nice 104.3. We spent another day seeing specialists and getting blood drawn.
Here we go again.
It's a bit eerie to me that a doctor can predict to within a week's time that my kid will get sick. Like a medical Nostradamus; Ooooh, look into my crystal ball, your child will be fussy and shake with chills sometime around the rising of the new moon, and your lucky lotto numbers are 5, 7, 8, and 12!
But it does support the going theory about the cause of all this and I suppose that's a good thing. At least maybe we'll get things sorted out sooner than later. Unfortunately, I'm not a huge fan of living with the going theory, but other things could certainly be far, far worse. So even though it's a bit of an extra challenge for me at the moment, when my Little One is lying in bed whimpering, I am counting my blessings today also.
For instance. I'm very sorry that 2011 has decided to continue with the fevers of 2010. But, on the other hand, there is plenty of 2010 chocolate lying around the kitchen. I think I'll go count blessings in there, one Hershey Kiss at a time.
I decided to go ahead and post it, even though the part about Little One's fevers is already outdated now.
Last night She spiked a nice 104.3. We spent another day seeing specialists and getting blood drawn.
Here we go again.
It's a bit eerie to me that a doctor can predict to within a week's time that my kid will get sick. Like a medical Nostradamus; Ooooh, look into my crystal ball, your child will be fussy and shake with chills sometime around the rising of the new moon, and your lucky lotto numbers are 5, 7, 8, and 12!
But it does support the going theory about the cause of all this and I suppose that's a good thing. At least maybe we'll get things sorted out sooner than later. Unfortunately, I'm not a huge fan of living with the going theory, but other things could certainly be far, far worse. So even though it's a bit of an extra challenge for me at the moment, when my Little One is lying in bed whimpering, I am counting my blessings today also.
For instance. I'm very sorry that 2011 has decided to continue with the fevers of 2010. But, on the other hand, there is plenty of 2010 chocolate lying around the kitchen. I think I'll go count blessings in there, one Hershey Kiss at a time.
The Massive 2010 Catch Up Post
I threatened to go back and add a few things from 2010, and here they are. A few things, and then a few more, and about 10 miles of rambling with a few pictures thrown in. Don't say I didn't warn you! I did! And here we go.
One fun thing about 2010 was that a good friend had to take an unexpected trip out of the country, and so we were blessed with watching her baby while she was gone. It was a great preview for all of us into what life with TWO little girls will be like soon. Little One did pretty well sharing toys, space, and attention, though She did get a bit territorial about my lap. On the whole She was beyond thrilled to have little "Woo-wah" (Little One's name for her) around all the time. She started every morning by racing to the crib in the spare room shouting "Woo-wah! Wake up! 
Morning time, play with ME!" She went into ultra mommy-mode, helping to feed, change, and cuddle. She was very, very disappointed when "Baby Woo-wah" went home. And so was I! Luckily, I was surprised at how easy it was to have an extra set of chubby feet to chase after, and it was fun to remember the days of bottle-feeding snuggles and toothless grins.
Not long after we had to give up the extra family member, we hit the skies and went to Texas. Though Little One and I went out ahead of J, we all flew back together. It was Little One's 30 something airplane, but it was the first time we have all traveled together as a family, and J's first time flying with Her. It was great!
Years ago, on our way back from our honeymoon in Africa, J and I brought 4 little kids with us. It was a disaster of a trip, logistically speaking, with immigration hold-ups causing missed flights and lost luggage. All of us got stranded in New York at 3 am feeling very Biblical, being told there was no room for us at any inns. We spent a memorable few hours on the linoleum floor in a dark, empty terminal, feeding the kids vending machine chips and granola bars because everything was closed. The little one had serious stomach problems. None of the kids spoke English or had ever experienced things like seatbelts, escalators, or packaged food. It was nuts. And it was the most fun J and I ever had together until the day Little One was born. We look forward to more adventures ahead as a family, and getting to travel together on this little trip reminded us of those three fantastic days and made us as warm and fuzzy as that big guy snoring in the seat next to us.
And we had lots of fun in Texas. We had a great time visiting my Grandparents again, who are incredibly good at having pretend tea parties. And it was really nice to get to see my sister who was staying there for an internship. We did a lot of hanging out and playing, but we saw some sights too.
We went to the Whit museum which had a lot of great exhibits about the local area, and a special exhibit about bugs. For some reason, this included moving, talking, Gigantor bugs. Very educational. At first Little One balked. "Bit scary, Mama" She said, trying to find a place to hide and only finding a Gigantor belly. But Tia soon brought Her around, and soon She was patting and talking to them like tame pets.
Of course, the big adventure we had this trip was to Sea World. Little One LOVED it.
Surprisingly, for a two-year-old with the attention span of a two-year-old, Her favorite part was the shows. We saw one with dolphins, a beluga whale, trained parrots, and amazing synchronized swimmers and divers. Little One was totally transfixed. She barely blinked the whole show, and then went wild at the end clapping and cheering and begging "More show! More show please Please!"
She even loved the orca show, which- can I be honest?- was terrible. I guess now that the trainers aren't allowed to risk being eaten anymore, there's just not that much to show. Sissies.
Of course the main event was to celebrate Thanksgiving with my family. My sister and I helped Little One make these fantabulous place-cards and the masterful centerpiece. My parents did all the cooking, and we ate it up. That's what I call a holiday!
When we got home, we traveled south to do Thanksgiving with J's family also. One thing we love about spending time with these folks is that there are little cousins for Her to play with. Besides how great it is to see Her having so much fun, it brings up lots of fun memories of good times with my cousins when I was at the Kid Table on holidays. Aw.
This Thanksgiving, I reflected on all the things I have to be thankful for. Family, friends, and safety are always at the top of my list. But this year, I have to say I am extra thankful for one thing that is easily taken for granted where we live. Health care.
In the US, we have some of the best doctors and resources in the world. Even those of us with the worst options have options. Our family is particularly lucky because health coverage for active military families is amazing. Before Little One passed the soy challenge, the formula She had to drink was billed at $120 a can. We went through at least one a week. The fact that this highly specialized, very scientifically advanced substance even existed for us was huge. The fact that our insurance paid for it also made a very big difference in our lives. What if we didn't have it? Or the tests and super-educated and trained doctors who figured out what was wrong and how to help in in the first place? Or how about this last time Little One was in the hospital.
What if we didn't have all those health professionals, and medicines, and clean IV's and tests available to us? I think about times I have been sick, taken some antibiotics, and just moved on like it was nothing. I think about how "easy" giving birth was, surrounded by sterilized equipment and digital monitors and experienced professionals. And I think about my Grandfather, who grew up so sick because he had food allergies and no special formula existed for him. Or my Nana, who lost her first baby to an illness that would now be so easily treated. I think about people I have seen overseas, suffering and dying for lack of things I get for free at the military hospital just by asking. I think about Sub-Saharan Africa, and the fact one in 16 women will die in pregnancy or childbirth. Places like Sierra Leone where almost 30% of kids never make it to 5 years old. Immunizations and antibiotics and specialist referrals are all just a normal part of
childhood and life in this day and age, in this place we happen to live. But it hasn't always been so, and it certainly isn't so now for everyone. So for Thanksgiving this year, I took a long, precious look at my healthy and growing daughter-at everyone I love- and took a minute to be extra grateful for the sometimes inconvenient, probably-not-the-best-organized, at-times-imperfect but nonetheless miraculous healthcare system we have access to. Life is so fragile. I remember that a lot of us have had our lives saved by medicine at some point along the way, probably without even realizing it. And I'm thankful we had that chance.
Especially because the majority of the end of 2010 was about worrying for Little One. 105.9 degrees while on both motrin and tylenol, and high fever for over a week is a little much. She was dehydrated and She didn't eat, and 4lb is a lot to lose when you've only got 22 to work with. 18 needles is a lot to have stuck in you in 24 hours. And words like "cancer" "immunodeficiency" "autoimmune" are very good and freaking parents the heck out. The hospital is concerned that She has had so many high fevers with no other symptoms. They are still looking into why that might be, but thankfully have ruled out all those really scary things at this point. It may actually be nothing, just Her rogue immune system acting all jumpy and over-reacting to every little bug She picks up on the playground. Or it might be something else, we don't know yet.
Right now they expect that if it's the something else they suspect, She should be getting sick again any day now. So that's sort of hanging over our heads a bit, but we're hoping that the specialists will be disappointed. And at the moment, Little One has fully recovered, is gaining weight, and bouncing around like Her good old self, so we're just going to roll with it. It wasn't fun. But while we were in the hospital, when She started feeling better we went to the playroom in the pediatric wing. We met an adorable 18 month old little girl. With cancer. She lives there. She will be there at least through the summer, staying in the hospital enduring chemo and tubes and bedrest with the hopes that she'll ever leave. They played together, just two kids who really like crayons and dollhouses. J and I talked with her dad awhile. And while we watched them giggle, I think we all counted our blessings.
Once She was feeling better, Little One and J and I enjoyed the holiday season. We saw miniature trains, a kids production of the Nutcracker (which She LOVED), and Santa. We danced in snow flurries, decked the halls, delivered gifts, and went to parties. We spent a lot of time just appreciating being around each other.
2010, to tell you the truth, had a few big disappointments for us, a few challenges for us and those we love. And it certainly was a pain in the yoo-hoo towards the last bit. But there were a landslide of wonderful things in there, too. And in the end we were all together, warm and safe and sound in our cozy home, with our loved ones a phone call or email away, looking towards a very exciting new year. And maxing out our math skills, counting our blessings.
One fun thing about 2010 was that a good friend had to take an unexpected trip out of the country, and so we were blessed with watching her baby while she was gone. It was a great preview for all of us into what life with TWO little girls will be like soon. Little One did pretty well sharing toys, space, and attention, though She did get a bit territorial about my lap. On the whole She was beyond thrilled to have little "Woo-wah" (Little One's name for her) around all the time. She started every morning by racing to the crib in the spare room shouting "Woo-wah! Wake up! 
Morning time, play with ME!" She went into ultra mommy-mode, helping to feed, change, and cuddle. She was very, very disappointed when "Baby Woo-wah" went home. And so was I! Luckily, I was surprised at how easy it was to have an extra set of chubby feet to chase after, and it was fun to remember the days of bottle-feeding snuggles and toothless grins. |
| All of us on the plane |
Years ago, on our way back from our honeymoon in Africa, J and I brought 4 little kids with us. It was a disaster of a trip, logistically speaking, with immigration hold-ups causing missed flights and lost luggage. All of us got stranded in New York at 3 am feeling very Biblical, being told there was no room for us at any inns. We spent a memorable few hours on the linoleum floor in a dark, empty terminal, feeding the kids vending machine chips and granola bars because everything was closed. The little one had serious stomach problems. None of the kids spoke English or had ever experienced things like seatbelts, escalators, or packaged food. It was nuts. And it was the most fun J and I ever had together until the day Little One was born. We look forward to more adventures ahead as a family, and getting to travel together on this little trip reminded us of those three fantastic days and made us as warm and fuzzy as that big guy snoring in the seat next to us.
And we had lots of fun in Texas. We had a great time visiting my Grandparents again, who are incredibly good at having pretend tea parties. And it was really nice to get to see my sister who was staying there for an internship. We did a lot of hanging out and playing, but we saw some sights too.
We went to the Whit museum which had a lot of great exhibits about the local area, and a special exhibit about bugs. For some reason, this included moving, talking, Gigantor bugs. Very educational. At first Little One balked. "Bit scary, Mama" She said, trying to find a place to hide and only finding a Gigantor belly. But Tia soon brought Her around, and soon She was patting and talking to them like tame pets.
Of course, the big adventure we had this trip was to Sea World. Little One LOVED it.
Surprisingly, for a two-year-old with the attention span of a two-year-old, Her favorite part was the shows. We saw one with dolphins, a beluga whale, trained parrots, and amazing synchronized swimmers and divers. Little One was totally transfixed. She barely blinked the whole show, and then went wild at the end clapping and cheering and begging "More show! More show please Please!"She even loved the orca show, which- can I be honest?- was terrible. I guess now that the trainers aren't allowed to risk being eaten anymore, there's just not that much to show. Sissies.
Of course the main event was to celebrate Thanksgiving with my family. My sister and I helped Little One make these fantabulous place-cards and the masterful centerpiece. My parents did all the cooking, and we ate it up. That's what I call a holiday!
When we got home, we traveled south to do Thanksgiving with J's family also. One thing we love about spending time with these folks is that there are little cousins for Her to play with. Besides how great it is to see Her having so much fun, it brings up lots of fun memories of good times with my cousins when I was at the Kid Table on holidays. Aw. This Thanksgiving, I reflected on all the things I have to be thankful for. Family, friends, and safety are always at the top of my list. But this year, I have to say I am extra thankful for one thing that is easily taken for granted where we live. Health care.
In the US, we have some of the best doctors and resources in the world. Even those of us with the worst options have options. Our family is particularly lucky because health coverage for active military families is amazing. Before Little One passed the soy challenge, the formula She had to drink was billed at $120 a can. We went through at least one a week. The fact that this highly specialized, very scientifically advanced substance even existed for us was huge. The fact that our insurance paid for it also made a very big difference in our lives. What if we didn't have it? Or the tests and super-educated and trained doctors who figured out what was wrong and how to help in in the first place? Or how about this last time Little One was in the hospital.
 |
| Enjoying the first snow of the season |
 |
| Cousins |
Right now they expect that if it's the something else they suspect, She should be getting sick again any day now. So that's sort of hanging over our heads a bit, but we're hoping that the specialists will be disappointed. And at the moment, Little One has fully recovered, is gaining weight, and bouncing around like Her good old self, so we're just going to roll with it. It wasn't fun. But while we were in the hospital, when She started feeling better we went to the playroom in the pediatric wing. We met an adorable 18 month old little girl. With cancer. She lives there. She will be there at least through the summer, staying in the hospital enduring chemo and tubes and bedrest with the hopes that she'll ever leave. They played together, just two kids who really like crayons and dollhouses. J and I talked with her dad awhile. And while we watched them giggle, I think we all counted our blessings.
Once She was feeling better, Little One and J and I enjoyed the holiday season. We saw miniature trains, a kids production of the Nutcracker (which She LOVED), and Santa. We danced in snow flurries, decked the halls, delivered gifts, and went to parties. We spent a lot of time just appreciating being around each other.
2010, to tell you the truth, had a few big disappointments for us, a few challenges for us and those we love. And it certainly was a pain in the yoo-hoo towards the last bit. But there were a landslide of wonderful things in there, too. And in the end we were all together, warm and safe and sound in our cozy home, with our loved ones a phone call or email away, looking towards a very exciting new year. And maxing out our math skills, counting our blessings.
Sunday, January 2, 2011
Post About Posting
The main reason for this blog is to keep family and friends updated and connected to our family, even though we are far away. I started it before I discovered Facebook. Sometimes it seems repetitive to be keeping in touch both ways, but the blog thing here has turned out to be other things, too. It's turned into kind of a scrapbook for our family, which is made so much the better for us when you Peanuts add your 2 cents in the comment section. And it's turned out to be pretty useful as a record-keeping thing. When Little One's doctors asked for a history of Her fevers, I looked over my whining, complaining blog and found a bunch of stuff I'd already forgotten. Ditto for when I finally got around to filling out all those milestones in the baby book.
So even though sometimes I look at what I'm writing and wonder why the heck I'm bothering and whether anyone will care to read it, I put it in here anyways. Because even if the Peanut gallery is empty, it's still sort of a journal with pictures that Little One can see one day and know just how crazy Her mother really is. And besides, there's always our moms. Hi moms! I know I can count on you to read, no matter how boring it might get. Right moms! ....right?
Well anyways. With all that in mind, in the next post or two I'm going to go ahead and backtrack a little ways into 2010, to add some things I didn't get around to. If you're bored senseless, just ignore me! I won't go away, but you can always go look at funny pictures of cats or whatever instead. And if you're not bored senseless, leave a comment. It's part of why I keep this blog going, to keep in touch with you all. Pretend I'm telling you these stories over coffee somewhere. And join the conversation, even if it's just to tell me to please, for the love of goodness, change the subject.
So even though sometimes I look at what I'm writing and wonder why the heck I'm bothering and whether anyone will care to read it, I put it in here anyways. Because even if the Peanut gallery is empty, it's still sort of a journal with pictures that Little One can see one day and know just how crazy Her mother really is. And besides, there's always our moms. Hi moms! I know I can count on you to read, no matter how boring it might get. Right moms! ....right?
Well anyways. With all that in mind, in the next post or two I'm going to go ahead and backtrack a little ways into 2010, to add some things I didn't get around to. If you're bored senseless, just ignore me! I won't go away, but you can always go look at funny pictures of cats or whatever instead. And if you're not bored senseless, leave a comment. It's part of why I keep this blog going, to keep in touch with you all. Pretend I'm telling you these stories over coffee somewhere. And join the conversation, even if it's just to tell me to please, for the love of goodness, change the subject.
Saturday, January 1, 2011
In Which We Loose The Monster
Well well well.
2011. Already!
When 2010 came in, I could still convince myself I had a baby around here. Not so much now. She's bossing us around. She's clinched Her spot in the hierarchy above the dogs. (Confirmed today when She commanded, with pointed finger, "E! Go Lay Down Ober There!" And E slunk into the designated spot and curled up.) She's fully into "Little One do it Self" mode. And most of the time, She really can do it Self.
So for the New Year, J and I caved and conceded that what we have here is a Big Girl. And we rang in 2011 with a tangible admission of that fact- we took the rail off Her crib.
Part of me was very resistant to this concept. What? Let Her loose? Let Her run free?! Remove the only structure that ensures me at least 5 breaths during the day to myself?!? This is like taking the door off a lion cage! Ahg!
Buuuut....part of me knows that She can't be penned in forever. And that She doesn't really need those rails anymore. She's perfectly capable of climbing in and out of a bed, this we know. And, if I ever expect to lose the diapers altogether (She still wears training pants to bed) then the poor thing Has to be able to get to the loo when nature calls. It has happened a few times recently that I'm in the middle of something when She wakes up from a nap, and it takes me a minute to get up the stairs when She calls me. Then I find Her standing, legs spread wide with a disgusted and resentful scowl on Her face. "Momma. I try! I call, 'mommy mommy!' No mommy, no can hear me. Had potty mommy! POTTY!!" And really, I have got to agree with Her that this is unacceptable.
So, despite the fact that an increase in Little One's freedom always creates the equal-but-opposite reaction of an inversely proportional decrease in mine, I handed J a screwdriver and said ok. I knew it might be a rough transition for us all, but better to go through it now than during the even rougher transition of having a new baby around.
We spent nearly 3 hours today repeating the following soundtrack:
"Night-night. Door shut. *pause* Thump. Pitter-patter-pitter-patter. Waaaaiiiiil. Mommy! Mommy! Hug-kiss, hug-kiss. Night-night. *pause* Thump. Pitter-patter-pitter-patter."
There were some hurried whispers between parents threatening to throw in towels. But then, thanks actually to J's magic, we heard.....nothing. Ahhh. Little One is, in fact, at this very moment! Sleeping peacefully in a big-girl bed, like a real little person. I am so sad. And so proud.
This New Year is going to be a big one for our family. There are some big changes blowing in with 2011. I think they will all be good. Including the one where I have a little baby. AND, a big girl.
2011. Already!
When 2010 came in, I could still convince myself I had a baby around here. Not so much now. She's bossing us around. She's clinched Her spot in the hierarchy above the dogs. (Confirmed today when She commanded, with pointed finger, "E! Go Lay Down Ober There!" And E slunk into the designated spot and curled up.) She's fully into "Little One do it Self" mode. And most of the time, She really can do it Self.
So for the New Year, J and I caved and conceded that what we have here is a Big Girl. And we rang in 2011 with a tangible admission of that fact- we took the rail off Her crib.
Part of me was very resistant to this concept. What? Let Her loose? Let Her run free?! Remove the only structure that ensures me at least 5 breaths during the day to myself?!? This is like taking the door off a lion cage! Ahg!
Buuuut....part of me knows that She can't be penned in forever. And that She doesn't really need those rails anymore. She's perfectly capable of climbing in and out of a bed, this we know. And, if I ever expect to lose the diapers altogether (She still wears training pants to bed) then the poor thing Has to be able to get to the loo when nature calls. It has happened a few times recently that I'm in the middle of something when She wakes up from a nap, and it takes me a minute to get up the stairs when She calls me. Then I find Her standing, legs spread wide with a disgusted and resentful scowl on Her face. "Momma. I try! I call, 'mommy mommy!' No mommy, no can hear me. Had potty mommy! POTTY!!" And really, I have got to agree with Her that this is unacceptable.
So, despite the fact that an increase in Little One's freedom always creates the equal-but-opposite reaction of an inversely proportional decrease in mine, I handed J a screwdriver and said ok. I knew it might be a rough transition for us all, but better to go through it now than during the even rougher transition of having a new baby around.
We spent nearly 3 hours today repeating the following soundtrack:
"Night-night. Door shut. *pause* Thump. Pitter-patter-pitter-patter. Waaaaiiiiil. Mommy! Mommy! Hug-kiss, hug-kiss. Night-night. *pause* Thump. Pitter-patter-pitter-patter."
There were some hurried whispers between parents threatening to throw in towels. But then, thanks actually to J's magic, we heard.....nothing. Ahhh. Little One is, in fact, at this very moment! Sleeping peacefully in a big-girl bed, like a real little person. I am so sad. And so proud.
This New Year is going to be a big one for our family. There are some big changes blowing in with 2011. I think they will all be good. Including the one where I have a little baby. AND, a big girl.
Thursday, December 30, 2010
Monday, December 27, 2010
Dancer
Little One's current favorite toy is this orange singing microphone She got for Her birthday.
Personally, I am not a huge fan of anything plastic, ESPECIALLY if it has lights and buttons and MOST ESPECIALLY if it makes all kinds of noise. If it requires batteries, it makes me cringe.
But Little One has Her own ideas of what's fun. And for Her, this maniacal microphone is the epitome of fun. It transforms Her. Into a Diva! It gives Her portable, on-command ability to do Her favorite, favorite thing. Dance.
The dang thing plays the same three songs over and over. And over. And OVER. Pretty much all day, because I have to practically pry the thing from Her Jazz Hands to get Her to eat and sleep.
She pushes the little button, and it erupts into a jangling, clattering rendition of some repetitive kid song. She whirls and spins and swoops around the house. She dips and shakes, wiggles and prances.
Here She comes, across the dining room on Her tippy-toes. There She goes, back the other way twirling and swinging Her arms. There She is in the kitchen doing...is that the Carlton?...and diving into a somersault. As the song ends, She sweeps Her arms up over Her head, throws them back and pauses dramatically for applause. Which She happily gives Herself. Before pressing the button again, for the 556960th time today, and choreographing a new masterpiece. She often sings along. This din is deafening. She is too busy to hear what I'm saying. Or put on Her shoes, get Her hair brushed, take a nap. She's totally immersed in the music.
Tonight, J and I watched Her while we finished the dinner She was too dance-antsy to eat, booty-shaking around the table. I listened to the digitized pseudo-saxophone for the 556975th time today. And I couldn't help but think, "WOW. I am really going to miss these days when they are gone".
Personally, I am not a huge fan of anything plastic, ESPECIALLY if it has lights and buttons and MOST ESPECIALLY if it makes all kinds of noise. If it requires batteries, it makes me cringe.
But Little One has Her own ideas of what's fun. And for Her, this maniacal microphone is the epitome of fun. It transforms Her. Into a Diva! It gives Her portable, on-command ability to do Her favorite, favorite thing. Dance.
The dang thing plays the same three songs over and over. And over. And OVER. Pretty much all day, because I have to practically pry the thing from Her Jazz Hands to get Her to eat and sleep.
She pushes the little button, and it erupts into a jangling, clattering rendition of some repetitive kid song. She whirls and spins and swoops around the house. She dips and shakes, wiggles and prances.
Here She comes, across the dining room on Her tippy-toes. There She goes, back the other way twirling and swinging Her arms. There She is in the kitchen doing...is that the Carlton?...and diving into a somersault. As the song ends, She sweeps Her arms up over Her head, throws them back and pauses dramatically for applause. Which She happily gives Herself. Before pressing the button again, for the 556960th time today, and choreographing a new masterpiece. She often sings along. This din is deafening. She is too busy to hear what I'm saying. Or put on Her shoes, get Her hair brushed, take a nap. She's totally immersed in the music. Tonight, J and I watched Her while we finished the dinner She was too dance-antsy to eat, booty-shaking around the table. I listened to the digitized pseudo-saxophone for the 556975th time today. And I couldn't help but think, "WOW. I am really going to miss these days when they are gone".
Sunday, December 26, 2010
Chris-kiss
Since J was off, today was our Christmas.
When Little One came down the stairs, She walked carefully, as if She might wake Herself up. She held Her arms out, pulled by a force field over to the fluffy pink ballerina tutu. Her first words (spoken to the tutu) were: "Oh....my..........doodness....!"
She fingered the tulle gently, and whispered, "ball-er-een-a"!
She walked a slow, disbelieving lap around the other unwrapped gifts, and then inspected Santa's cookie plate. "This Santa! Eat cookies aaaalllll gone! Oh!"
She spied the stockings. There was lip gloss in there. She had a candy cane for breakfast. Yes She did! I know you all know my feelings about Little One and sugar. I unwrapped it for Her. Such is the potency of Christmas magic, catalyzed by two-year-old wonder.
And She spent most of the day like this:
After "Mommy I need take a little break", more excitement ensued. The only thing Little One loved as much as the generosity of Her family and friends was the fact that Mommy and Daddy stayed home in our PJ's all day long and did nothing else but play with Her.
Our first Christmas on our own, we missed our families this year. But it really was the best gift to just Be Together like that. And play. And sing a lot of "jingle bells", and dance around the living room, and eat leftover sweet-potato pie, and play.
I hope all you Peanuts had a fantastic Holiday yourselves, whether it was a big blowout party or a quiet joy like ours.
The truth is that being together all day was the best gift, for ALL of us this year.
But also. My husband? With whom I have operated on a tacit understanding that we don't really give each other gifts on holidays? My husband whose home-made breakfast was all the gift I was looking for today?
He gave me pearls.
I cried.
When Little One came down the stairs, She walked carefully, as if She might wake Herself up. She held Her arms out, pulled by a force field over to the fluffy pink ballerina tutu. Her first words (spoken to the tutu) were: "Oh....my..........doodness....!" She fingered the tulle gently, and whispered, "ball-er-een-a"!
She walked a slow, disbelieving lap around the other unwrapped gifts, and then inspected Santa's cookie plate. "This Santa! Eat cookies aaaalllll gone! Oh!"
She spied the stockings. There was lip gloss in there. She had a candy cane for breakfast. Yes She did! I know you all know my feelings about Little One and sugar. I unwrapped it for Her. Such is the potency of Christmas magic, catalyzed by two-year-old wonder.
And She spent most of the day like this:
Until She was completely overwhelmed by the excitement and looked like this:
Our first Christmas on our own, we missed our families this year. But it really was the best gift to just Be Together like that. And play. And sing a lot of "jingle bells", and dance around the living room, and eat leftover sweet-potato pie, and play. I hope all you Peanuts had a fantastic Holiday yourselves, whether it was a big blowout party or a quiet joy like ours.
The truth is that being together all day was the best gift, for ALL of us this year.
But also. My husband? With whom I have operated on a tacit understanding that we don't really give each other gifts on holidays? My husband whose home-made breakfast was all the gift I was looking for today?
He gave me pearls.
I cried.
Merry Christmas!
Sugar and Spice
Yesterday J had to work all day. Santa knows these things, and waited a day to come by our place. While J gave his patients the gift of healthcare, Little One and I went out in the falling snow for some spoiling at my aunts house. Little One got a doctor set, so that She could give all Her babies and teddies the gift of healthcare also, and we both got treated to good company and an amazing breakfast.
When we got home, we had another big treat, just us girlies.
Do you know about my baking obsession? Odds are yes. Odds are I have given most of you at least one or two cavities over time. I don't know what to say. I need a 12-step cookie program. It's a sickness. Some people, when they get stressed, take a bath. Or go for a nice run. Or drink gin out of the bottle. Me? I bake.
Also, if I want to congratulate you, or sympathize with you, or thank you, or apologize to you....I bake.
Butter and sugar are my answer to everything. How perfect that the stress of impending holidays aggravates my affliction to the point that I had dozens and dozens (and dozens) of ready-made gifts for everyone this year!
This is not the worst addiction to have, I suppose. Not the most unhealthy habit to role-model for my child. But, it is rather hard on Little One. Because although She can and does participate by measuring and pouring flours and baking powders, She can't help too much because She can't ever touch the stuff, let alone eat any. So She has to watch me spend all this time doing something that She doesn't get to be a part of.
Until yesterday. Yesterday we broke out our aprons and an allergy-safe cookie recipe, and for the first time ever did something that I always loved doing with my mom. We baked cookies, together.
Little One was ecstatic. After all this sitting on the sidelines, She finally got to be part of the action. She poured, She stirred, She made little ball-shaped lumps with Her hands. She tasted! Everything! The sugar, the raisins, the flour. The baking soda. Whatever She could. Because She could.
And at the end, for the first time, She got to perform a sacred childhood ritual. She got to eat the dough off the beater*. Heaven!
We got messy and poufed flour everywhere and had a blast. And of course She got to eat the results of Her work. She could hardly believe Her luck. She kept saying, "This one, mommy, no-no Little One can't have. No no make itchy momma! This one my coo-kie! This yummy coo-kie!"
But it wasn't just for Her.
We also made our big holiday dinner to share when J got home, and afterward Little One got to choose a few of Her creations to put on the special plate to share with Santa. She was so proud that She had helped make them Herself.
Which was the sweetest thing about them.
When we got home, we had another big treat, just us girlies.
Do you know about my baking obsession? Odds are yes. Odds are I have given most of you at least one or two cavities over time. I don't know what to say. I need a 12-step cookie program. It's a sickness. Some people, when they get stressed, take a bath. Or go for a nice run. Or drink gin out of the bottle. Me? I bake.Also, if I want to congratulate you, or sympathize with you, or thank you, or apologize to you....I bake.
Butter and sugar are my answer to everything. How perfect that the stress of impending holidays aggravates my affliction to the point that I had dozens and dozens (and dozens) of ready-made gifts for everyone this year!
This is not the worst addiction to have, I suppose. Not the most unhealthy habit to role-model for my child. But, it is rather hard on Little One. Because although She can and does participate by measuring and pouring flours and baking powders, She can't help too much because She can't ever touch the stuff, let alone eat any. So She has to watch me spend all this time doing something that She doesn't get to be a part of.Until yesterday. Yesterday we broke out our aprons and an allergy-safe cookie recipe, and for the first time ever did something that I always loved doing with my mom. We baked cookies, together.
Little One was ecstatic. After all this sitting on the sidelines, She finally got to be part of the action. She poured, She stirred, She made little ball-shaped lumps with Her hands. She tasted! Everything! The sugar, the raisins, the flour. The baking soda. Whatever She could. Because She could.
And at the end, for the first time, She got to perform a sacred childhood ritual. She got to eat the dough off the beater*. Heaven!
We got messy and poufed flour everywhere and had a blast. And of course She got to eat the results of Her work. She could hardly believe Her luck. She kept saying, "This one, mommy, no-no Little One can't have. No no make itchy momma! This one my coo-kie! This yummy coo-kie!" 
But it wasn't just for Her.
We also made our big holiday dinner to share when J got home, and afterward Little One got to choose a few of Her creations to put on the special plate to share with Santa. She was so proud that She had helped make them Herself.
Which was the sweetest thing about them.
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