Thursday, May 27, 2010
When are we not sick?
So I recovered (mostly) from pneumonia, only to watch little L get a head cold that then added a goopy eye thing, then a cough, then a low-grade fever, then laryngitis. Poor guy's been getting worse and worse in tiny increments; he's probably still not considered fussy by most people but he is by us.
After numerous phone calls and two doctor's visits, L's been diagnosed with an ear infection and aggravated respiratory system or something like that. It's asthma-lite. So he's on antibiotics (both oral and topical) and albuterol, plus steroids on hand just in case his breathing needs a little help.
And I had to take him for chest X-rays, because maybe he has pneumonia too. Argh. We'll hopefully find out that's a no later today. Baby X-rays are odd. Do not take your baby in a shirt with snaps at the shoulder for an X-ray because they will make your baby put on a hospital johnny that is not a baby size. I think it would have swamped my three-year-old, so it was essentially wrapping the baby in a Snuggie. A polyester, string-tied, Loony Tunes-printed Snuggie.
They have tiny little lead vests to drape over the baby's lap, and they put the mom (that's me) into position, holding the baby's hands above his head and feet so he's stretched out on the bed, then drape me in lead vests. Then they run like hell out of the room to try and do the X-ray as fast as possible.
L could tolerate the one on his back but could not stand the one on his side. Happily, they did them both in one shot each and we were out of there. The X-ray place was in the same place as a radiation treatment facility, so it was interesting waiting with people who needed to see a cute little baby.
After numerous phone calls and two doctor's visits, L's been diagnosed with an ear infection and aggravated respiratory system or something like that. It's asthma-lite. So he's on antibiotics (both oral and topical) and albuterol, plus steroids on hand just in case his breathing needs a little help.
And I had to take him for chest X-rays, because maybe he has pneumonia too. Argh. We'll hopefully find out that's a no later today. Baby X-rays are odd. Do not take your baby in a shirt with snaps at the shoulder for an X-ray because they will make your baby put on a hospital johnny that is not a baby size. I think it would have swamped my three-year-old, so it was essentially wrapping the baby in a Snuggie. A polyester, string-tied, Loony Tunes-printed Snuggie.
They have tiny little lead vests to drape over the baby's lap, and they put the mom (that's me) into position, holding the baby's hands above his head and feet so he's stretched out on the bed, then drape me in lead vests. Then they run like hell out of the room to try and do the X-ray as fast as possible.
L could tolerate the one on his back but could not stand the one on his side. Happily, they did them both in one shot each and we were out of there. The X-ray place was in the same place as a radiation treatment facility, so it was interesting waiting with people who needed to see a cute little baby.
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Don't talk during a dental cleaning
I had a cleaning, I got water down my throat, and poof, pneumonia hit me like a Mack truck. I'm getting better, but I'm on heavy meds, which make the nursling cranky, which makes the rest of us cranky.
So the only update is that L no longer stays put. You put him down, bam, thirty seconds later he's across the room. Not crawling, just rolling and wriggling. And this sucker is fast. Good grief.
So the only update is that L no longer stays put. You put him down, bam, thirty seconds later he's across the room. Not crawling, just rolling and wriggling. And this sucker is fast. Good grief.
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
This has got to be a children's book
[scene: downtown San Diego. In car, driving.]
A: Look, Mommy, pigeons.
me: Uh-huh, pigeons in the street.
A: Mommy, I want you to hit a pigeon because then I can take it home and take care of it.
me: Uhhhhhhh, no. I don't think I want to hit a pigeon. We can get you something to take care of without hitting something. Would you like to help take care of the cats?
A: No. I want to take care of a pigeon. No, a lot of pigeons.
me: Uh-hmmmm.
A: But maybe we should have three cats.
A: Look, Mommy, pigeons.
me: Uh-huh, pigeons in the street.
A: Mommy, I want you to hit a pigeon because then I can take it home and take care of it.
me: Uhhhhhhh, no. I don't think I want to hit a pigeon. We can get you something to take care of without hitting something. Would you like to help take care of the cats?
A: No. I want to take care of a pigeon. No, a lot of pigeons.
me: Uh-hmmmm.
A: But maybe we should have three cats.
Monday, May 10, 2010
Action-packed weekends
Sometimes, we just have them, the weekends that seem to have everything in the world to do. First up, a reading on Friday night. Saturday, bridal shower. Sunday, plumeria society meeting. Monday, board meeting.
Now bridal showers are not typically my thing, because I think anyone who's gone to Bryn Mawr has spent enough women-only chatty-chat time to last the rest of her natural life. But this bridal shower was fabulous: friends from out of town, happy baby in tow, and just the most charming bride-to-be you've ever seen. I don't think I'm remiss in saying there are some weddings I go to with some misgivings, as in how long will this marriage last, when will the groom stop me from hanging out with the bride, when will the bride crush the groom's joie de vivre. As I get older, I realize I'm not going to know both parties as well, so maybe I love the groom and just assume the bride/other groom is super. But there's very few weddings that I go to where I know enough about both participants to say, "Wow, I love these people and they are perfect for each other and I'm so eager to see them have happy long lives together." And that's how I feel about this wedding, and from the party, so did everyone else. So that was fabulous.
And then Mother's Day. Again, most of the day for me was spent in a meeting with my littlest guy, but what a great Mother's Day. My almost-four-year-old is amazingly charming ("Mommy, you look like a princess,") and my five-month-old is deliciously sweet.
Last night was not such a good night. For the shower, I went off the dairy-free reservation, which meant that I wasn't in a mind to pass up the glorious Louisiana chicken (oh my) or French silk pie (heavenly, heavenly) that I've been passing up in my dairy-free quest. And yesterday morning, C said to me, "Gosh, L hasn't had any bad side effects at all; I wonder if you can go back on dairy again."
Then enter last night. Our normally fuss-free, easy-going babe was replaced by someone who cried even when he was being held and fed and couldn't sleep for more than a few hours at a time from intestinal distress. Poor baby. I know it takes ten days for the dairy to completely leave my system, but I hope he gets over it soon because he was so unhappy.
Now bridal showers are not typically my thing, because I think anyone who's gone to Bryn Mawr has spent enough women-only chatty-chat time to last the rest of her natural life. But this bridal shower was fabulous: friends from out of town, happy baby in tow, and just the most charming bride-to-be you've ever seen. I don't think I'm remiss in saying there are some weddings I go to with some misgivings, as in how long will this marriage last, when will the groom stop me from hanging out with the bride, when will the bride crush the groom's joie de vivre. As I get older, I realize I'm not going to know both parties as well, so maybe I love the groom and just assume the bride/other groom is super. But there's very few weddings that I go to where I know enough about both participants to say, "Wow, I love these people and they are perfect for each other and I'm so eager to see them have happy long lives together." And that's how I feel about this wedding, and from the party, so did everyone else. So that was fabulous.
And then Mother's Day. Again, most of the day for me was spent in a meeting with my littlest guy, but what a great Mother's Day. My almost-four-year-old is amazingly charming ("Mommy, you look like a princess,") and my five-month-old is deliciously sweet.
Last night was not such a good night. For the shower, I went off the dairy-free reservation, which meant that I wasn't in a mind to pass up the glorious Louisiana chicken (oh my) or French silk pie (heavenly, heavenly) that I've been passing up in my dairy-free quest. And yesterday morning, C said to me, "Gosh, L hasn't had any bad side effects at all; I wonder if you can go back on dairy again."
Then enter last night. Our normally fuss-free, easy-going babe was replaced by someone who cried even when he was being held and fed and couldn't sleep for more than a few hours at a time from intestinal distress. Poor baby. I know it takes ten days for the dairy to completely leave my system, but I hope he gets over it soon because he was so unhappy.
Wednesday, May 05, 2010
Rollie pollie
L is now rolling over and putting his head up in the classic baby pose. Last night at 2am, he was fussing and I woke up to see what was wrong with him. He had his legs completely sticking out of the crib; his butt up against the slats.
I moved him so he was completely in the crib again and then went to the bathroom. And as I was sitting there, half awake, I realized that the bottoms of his feet had been up and not the front of his knees. I had put the baby back into the crib on his stomach.
This freaked me out since I've been indoctrinated by the back-to-sleep movement, and I couldn't get out of the bathroom fast enough to roll L onto his back. Only later when I was more awake did I realize that I probably didn't need to freak out and that a baby who can roll over and lift his head is probably not the baby who will smother to death when left on his tummy.
I moved him so he was completely in the crib again and then went to the bathroom. And as I was sitting there, half awake, I realized that the bottoms of his feet had been up and not the front of his knees. I had put the baby back into the crib on his stomach.
This freaked me out since I've been indoctrinated by the back-to-sleep movement, and I couldn't get out of the bathroom fast enough to roll L onto his back. Only later when I was more awake did I realize that I probably didn't need to freak out and that a baby who can roll over and lift his head is probably not the baby who will smother to death when left on his tummy.
Tuesday, May 04, 2010
Changing Identity
A has many names now. We have to ask to figure out who we're talking to. Over the weekend, he's been Ponyo, Sparky the dog, a dragon, a pirate dragon, and a baby dolphin.
We took the baby dolphin to a local seafood place for fish, since he was a dolphin at the time. I grabbed a table with A and L while C waited for our food. When C came out with our food, I was nursing L. C picked up the ketchup to put some in a paper cup for A and ended up squirting ketchup all over L's sock-clad feet and my skirt. He completely missed himself, however.
We took the baby dolphin to a local seafood place for fish, since he was a dolphin at the time. I grabbed a table with A and L while C waited for our food. When C came out with our food, I was nursing L. C picked up the ketchup to put some in a paper cup for A and ended up squirting ketchup all over L's sock-clad feet and my skirt. He completely missed himself, however.
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