Friday, October 30, 2009


Sitting around:

Me: Feels like we've been sick forever
Rich: I know - feels like ten days not just this week
M: When did she first get sick? That's how it started?
R: Dunno. Can't even keep track anymore. What day did she miss school?
M: Tuesday
R: Right, Tuesday.
M: We didn't take her to the doctor though, did we?
R: No, remember she got sick, one day of a slight fever we kept her home, but then it was just a cold the rest of us got.
M: Oh, right. It feels like forever.
R: Wait, it wasn't Tuesday. It was last Tuesday.

So, forgive the infrequent posting as we head into NaBloPoMo. Soon enough you will have your daily fill. Meanwhile, I was too confident our sleep troubles were resolving. The weekend after this post, Andrew had a horrible sleep weekend. However, last night, despite the congestion, he slept til 6:45 am. He's still working on the steps, getting bolder but still prefers crawling.

Thursday, October 22, 2009

Friday, October 16, 2009

Queen and prince

Elizabeth is the imperial queen. As an infant, she realized she ruled the universe - we jumped at her every beck and call. We existed merely to serve her. In fact, when she closed her eyes, we ceased to exist. The world slowed - nothing of any possible interest could happen when she was not involved. Thus, she slept the deep sleep of the confident monarch.

Andrew, on the other hand, is the upstart prince. The world moves, fast, and he needs to keep up. He doesn't want to miss a thing. Even when he naps, he must hurry up and get it over with, because new, exciting and fresh things await him on his waking. Besides, everyone wants to be with him and what is a little sleep but an impediment to having fun? And thus, we have what we have.

I love a good metaphor.

For those keeping track, Andrew from age 8.75 months to 10.5 months has been a terrible night sleeper - up once or for an awful week twice a night. And not just up, nurse, sleep, but up for an hour + each time. Last week he slept through (til 7 am) every other night, up an hour or so the other nights. This week has been slightly better. Maybe we are getting there. Maybe.

Thursday, October 8, 2009

What else happens at 4

So, 4 is great and birthdays are fab, but there's the dark side, too - the annual doctor visit. And 4 is a doozy. Can you say 4 shots? All i can blame is sleep deprivation for the mistakes I made.

At Andrew's 9 month check up, he had his first (regular) flu shot, which needs a booster. Doc said just get it at the 12 month visit. But, he's healthy right now, we were headed to the doctor, so why not get the booster, too? And since I was taking both of them, why not give the nanny the morning off?

Mistake #1: visiting doctor alone with both kids
Mistake #2: 2 co-pays

So, we get there, get all checked in and sorted out who is getting what, and settle into the room. And that's when it hits me. How am I going to handle two kids crying from shots? How can I comfort one while the other has their shots? Yikes.

Elizabeth's visit is fine. Perfectly healthy, 50% for weight and height. Then, the doctor hits me with a new procedure. OK, go down to the bathroom and have her pee in this cup.

pee in a cup? Wha-?

First off, this is a girl with extreme bladder control who gets angry if forced to 'try' when she doesn't have to go. Gulp. Luckily, we can leave my bag in the room, but not Andrew. So off Elizabeth, Andrew, and I go to the bathroom. Also luckily, the doctor has explained to Elizabeth what she needs, so with this outside request, I am feeling more optimistic. So I ask her on our walk if she will go. She replies, well, I don't have to pee, but I do have to poop. Double gulp.

Into the bathroom the three of us go. Let me also explain that Andrew is one busy baby who cannot be contained. He has reached cruising altitude and is ON THE MOVE. Constantly.

Mistake #3: not asking if there was anyway anyone could watch Andrew during this procedure.

I figure it's a doctor's bathroom, and we're one of the first morning appointments. How bad can it be? So I let Andrew loose to cruise around the walls and crouch down in front of Elizabeth with the pee cup. I explain what we're going to do, keeping one eye on Andrew, and shove the cup under her. Miraculously, she pees right away - all over my hand - but I maneuver the cup enough to catch some of it. All this activity interests Andrew and he drops from the wall to crawl over and check it out, stands back up holding onto the toilet and cruises around trying to get in on the action.

I pull the cup out, whirl around to the sink, put down a paper towel, put the cup on the towel, turn on water, rinse my hand, and whirl back around to wipe and flush all in 10 seconds. And then grab Elizabeth, get her to wash her hands, put lid on cup, wash off cup, and wash my hands, all in 20 seconds, only to turn around and find Andrew happily splashing in the toilet. So I grab him, and wash off his hands. Whew.

We march back to the waiting room. And in comes the nurse. One shot for Andrew, 4 shots for Elizabeth, and we decide on the flu mist for her, too, to avoid another shot. We decide we'll give Andrew his shot, then the nasal mist, then the 4 shots. OK. Elizabeth watches Andrew get his shot, and when he starts to cry, she crawls under the exam table whimpering. I comfort Andrew, put him down, haul her out, hold her on my lap, and she gets the mist and starts crying. And Andrew starts crying, holding onto my leg. Nurse says she needs me to sit on exam table holding Elizabeth for the shots, and at my look grabs Andrew and sits him down on the floor. And he starts to cry. Nurse instructs me to hold on tight - TIGHT - to Elizabeth's upper body, then shoves E's feet between her own legs, and Elizabeth loses it at being so pinned down. And bam bam bam bam, with screams of pain, outrage, and fear growing each time. Nurse lets go, says, sorry, and walks out.

So I scoop up the two of them and collapse onto the chair and the three of us have a good sniffle. Andrew and I recover quickly, but Elizabeth cannot be comforted. I set her down, and she just holds onto her thighs, crying harder and harder. I gather the stuff, and usher everyone out. Elizabeth locks her knees together, still holding her thighs, and walks with a shuffle, still crying. And won't go up or down any steps.

Luckily, I remember there is a small store in the building and I desperately promise a treat. Which helps. A little. Sadly, the store does not offer whiskey shooters, and even if it did I still ahve to drive home.