uncle December 1, 2008

I’m crying uncle and the winter has technically not even begun. We have had colds for 2 weeks. F’s seems to have moved deep into her chest but I really don’t want another doctor visit where I’m told, “This seems to be . . . .a cold.”  The night-time hacking in our house is both stunning and tragic. PleaseGod we will get better. T and me being sick is one thing; Kentucky and Fried are entirely another thing.

Add too to our list: corneal abrasion. Yes, dear Kentucky somehow scratched his eyeball. Last Thursday, he made it through lunchtime at school and then T went to get him. He wouldn’t open his eyes, he was screaming in pain, it got worse and worse. Through the night Th, he woke every 1-2 hours screaming. It was a long night. Realizing at that time that it might be more than pinkeye, we took him to ped at 820am. She couldn’t see what was wrong and so sent us up to opthamology. K had his eyes closed the whole time and mostly was sleeping. Well, except when he was screaming and kicking the poor doctor. I’m sure she’s been kicked before. Right? Maybe?

So the whole family waited for TwoHours to see opthamologist. I have to say though that he was almost worth the wait because he was awesomely awesome with K. Honestly. He was absolutely, bar-none, the best. Best.

Anyhoo, he looked and put drops in and looked again and even got K to put his face in the big machine so that he could look into his eye with the blue light. Diagnosed an abrasion. Put more drops into screaming K, then some ointment into more-screaming K. Then we left.

K slept all day Friday. All day. It was kind of freaky. (And blessedly quiet now that I think of it.) He screamed a little more that night, but was definitely feeling better. Improvement continued as we put the ointment in his eye for 5-7 days. Well, except on the 6th day when I was putting the ointment in, as he lay in bed, at night, in the dark. . . . I poked him in the eye with the ointment tube. Yep. The little moments that make me question, seriously, my abilities as a mother.

For now, he is better.

get a job November 4, 2008

My parents took K/F to the apple orchard for their halloween festivities. K had an exceptionally good time and didn’t want to leave. So he cried, his big realllly sad cry. A man working there said, “*someone* doesn’t want to go home! heh heh.”

K cried all the way to the car, then didn’t want to get into the carseat. So my mother told him that they were leaving and if he didn’t get in the carseat he would have to stay there and get a job.

K stopped crying and starting walking back toward the barn. My mother said, where are you going. K said, to get a job.

yep.
true stories, all.

not sneaky enough October 31, 2008

we were all riding in the car last night, october 30, 2008, looking for HALLOWEEN decorations. that’s a big deal (see previous entry). K/F are in the back seat, T is driving and i’m just riding along. T thinks he is being sneaky, having brought a handful of snack-size candy bars and surreptitiously unwrapping and eating them while driving.
K says, “dad, what are you doing?”
“nothing.”
“dad, what’s that noise?”
“nothing.”
“dad, what are you eating?”
“my dinner.”
“dad. . . . i smell candy.”
who gets points for winning that one?
ha.

menards? October 28, 2008

menards
K is all over halloween. Every time we venture out of the house, on foot, in car, on bike, in stroller, we must search out halloween decorations. Then, when we find them, we must pause discuss them for at least 15 minutes, evaluating both their strong points and their deficiencies.  We are halloween lurkers. In front of some houses, we have sat parked 3 or 5 or 7 times. Lurking.

And then we went to Menards.

Over the weekend, K, F and I went to buy a light fixture for our naked (and dim) dining room. Imagine our great surprise (!) and delight (!) when we saw not only a menagerie of halloween decorations, but little wonderland of CHRISTMAS TOO!!!!

We had to walk through, slowly, examining perusing pontificating. We were there for a longggg time. Even before we left, K was making plans to take dad back there to see everything. Indeed he asked 3 times that day if we could take dad back there, right now. But actually dad wasn’t even home; he was out of town for the weekend.

His favorite halloween thing was a little rock+roll skeleton with blue hair, a suit, and black boots. When the button was pushed, the little skeleton danced, sang, bobbed his head, and tapped his boot.

His favorite christmas thing was a blow-up chimney, into which an upside-down blow-up santa disappeared (and then re-appeared). Second favorite may have been the upside down christmas tree– pure novelty enjoyment.

Who would predict that such free fun could be found so close to home.
Menards.

1yr girl September 25, 2008

1 yr girl (posted a little late)

she will stand; claps her hands and sits down.
she sits next to K, gazing up, puts hand on his knee.
throws head back, literally, and laughs.
wakes up and waves
loves to sit UP on things.
points at everything, very serious.
her bites hurt, but her pinches really hurt.
tickles herself and laughs.
tickles others, saying “tckl, tckl, tckl”
kisses with a wide open mouth.
often with a furrowed brow.
reserved joy.

i never wrote about her birth.
i was anxious of course.
a planned c-section has its own crazy surgery-related worries.
in addition to the regular old is-it-healthy worries.
we waited a long time for dr  to show up. but she’s well worth the wait.
i walked into the operating room and kind of freaked out.
it was so like . . . .surgery, and not like. . . .childbirth.
everything so sterile, so clean, so cold.
last time i didn’t walk in; i was wheeled in quickly and was so tired i didn’t notice much.
my bp dropped and i got really woozy and lightheaded and more scared.
the c-section was quick.
dr held up babe and said: Dad, do you want to announce it?
Dad, of course, had broken his glasses and without them couldn’t tell if babe was a Girl or a Boy.
he stood there, squinting at the babe.
dr said again, Dad. . . . ?
someone figured out it was a GIRL.
i was shocked.
they brought her around and positioned her 1 inch from my face.
with my arms and everything else taped down, i could only look at her through the corner of my eye.
she’s cute, i thought.

Making it to a year with a baby is very reassuring to me. And as of tomorrow, we made it. This little baby is such a joy, honestly such a joy. She is very attached to me, and her near-constant demonstrations of that attachment are very gratifying and joyous. Ok, sometimes a little wearying, but only sometimes. She will mold her small body to mine, burying her head in my neck, hanging on as if for dear life.  Now is the time to cut out the pumping and move her from our bed to her own. But I don’t want to. I don’t want to. K still comes in most nights, pillow in-tow and Cubby and a second pillow. . . . “That one’s for daddy.” And I love having them both there. I know, T and I need our bed back; we need to move forward. But I truly love having both of their warm bodies nestled close. This is going to be hard for me.

She is so engaging and engaged. Even strangers remark on that.

Having been somewhat lax in the solids department, we are now fast-tracking her to eating independence. Having had only purees up until this point, we’ve recently added finger foods, pieces of cheese and toast and some vegetables. We are trying the whole milk in a sippy cup. She’s doing better with the food than the milk.

Weaning. I am having a hard time deciding what to do. I do not want to stop nursing full-time. I DO want to stop pumping. I would like to continue nursing at night for certain and during the day if she wants it. However, I also feel like I should take care of myself by having a mammogram, as I’ve never had one and will be 42years on Sunday. So. What do to. Weaning K was not a problem. I don’t recall what we did, but it wasn’t a problem. I just stopped during the day and in the night, but kept the bedtime nurse. I didn’t have a problem with engorgement or anything. With F, I think that I might need to be more careful with the weaning (for myself), ie do it somewhat gradually.

I just need to say though that I love nursing. I love the closeness and that she is so happy. I love that she gets such comfort from it. I really don’t want to stop. So I’m going to slowly ease up and get her drinking cow’s milk. And then in a month or so, I can make my final decision.

At her 1year appt.
She originally weighed at 17 lbs, meaning she lost 2 lbs and was now at 7th percentile for weight. Being that, once upon a time, she had been in the 85% for weight, that was concerning, ie my heart jumped and my stomach fell. Her length was only 13%, but that is consistent with her past measurements. Dr came in to express surprise at the weight and re-weighed her. The resulting 19 lbs bumped her to XX% (can’t remember) and that is fine. Otherwise an uneventful visit. She has 2 cafe-au-lait spots and that is ok, but something to watch. We don’t want any more as that would be a marker for bad-things-to-come. But for today, NO BAD THINGS. I’m focusing on today. Really trying anyway.

4yr boy September 15, 2008

Well howdeedoo can you believe that? K is 4.

I remember that first year, just hoping to make it through the first year. His 3-week-old spinal meningitis scare; the antibiotics I.V. screwed into his little head. The second year, when he started saying things like: I know you don’t like it when I do this mom, but I just have to do it.   His third year, when he got the awesomest black eye at his cousin’s house–  when everyone was there except me. His fourth year when he became a big boy; there is just no baby in him anymore. A common response from him now: “Dumb,”  muttered under his breath. He was saying it quite a bit, so I asked him what it meant. He doesn’t know.

K has fairly recently turned into a big boy. He is now a preschooler, no doubt. His reasoning is more sound, his humor is more sophisticated, his expressions more expressive, his conversations multi-layered.

I don’t even know what to write about him. It’s not like writing about F, who is hitting obvious developmental milestones every other week. K just is. So let me try.

He still loves pink. He loves books, the library, bookstores. He still doesn’t really play with toys; his playthings continue to be people.  He has ramped up his imaginary play. He’s always had his friend Taba. She was gone for a while but is recently back. He talks to/plays with her and a slew of others, it seems, that I haven’t figured out yet. He will eat carbs and sugar but little else. Favorites are pancakes, toast/jam, peanut butter/jelly sandwiches, yogurt/blueberries, cereal and milk. Oh and honey on a spoon. Jelly on a spoon. You know, basically sugar on a spoon.

He talks a lot. He follows Grandpa around with a running commentary on what they’re doing, what they’re going to do, what they should  be doing. Grandpa tells him to put some wood on the woodpile and K comes back with a 15 minute explanation of why they should really put the wood in the FIRE-RING and not on the WOODPILE. My father can only say, ok, rendered otherwise slightly speechless.

He is still pretty shy around others. He is either silent or does goofy things. . . .like talk in a made-up language and perform odd acts of physical humor. But he simultaneously craves interaction. Often when we leave school, he will approach other parents. He won’t say anything, he will just wave his project at them. Occasionally, he’ll say something: “I made this.” “Today is my birthday.” ” This is my baby sister.” But often, he’ll just go stand by them, silent.

Last night was his birthday dinner at my parents. He was REALLY goofy all through dinner. I know, it was the third day of birthday celebrations, his cousins were there, he was being silly. However, I do so want him to be respectful and have manners, I need to figure out where to draw lines/boundaries for that type of thing. Ahhhh parenting.

He is very affectionate. He will frequently and randomly say, I love you. My favorite is when he, out of the blue, runs over to Grandpa, throws his arms around his neck and says, I love you, then runs away to continue playing. I think Grandpa is surprised every time and it makes me smile.

I’m not sure how he’s doing in school. I would love to be invisible and watch him. Is he quiet? does he play with others? who? is he silly and goofy there? is he nice? are other kids nice to him? He is such an odd/interesting mix of characteristics, that I can’t quite figure him out, ie predict his behavior.

I’ve really been working with him on appropriate social interaction, ie good social manners. We practice ahead of time and I give him reminders. If someone says hi, you can say hi back. If someone asks how you are, you can say fine thankyou. When you leave you can say goodbye. When someone does something nice you can say thankyou. He will occasionally follow through and then he says, Did you hear that mom? When xx said goodbye, I said goodbye back.

His temper. I think it’s getting better. I say that quietly, with some reserve, lest he prove me wrong, you know, tonight. I’ve been trying to be so so so so consistent with him. And not let him make EVERY choice. I think that is where we were going wrong. . . too many choices so that he started thinking that ALL choices were his to make. Not so, my friend, not so. And so now I say: This you don’t get to choose; this is my choice. I’m sorry if that makes you frustrated, but this is my choice. If you don’t listen to my choice, xxxxxxxconsequencexxxxx will happen. We’re getting there. I think.

Overall, he is so good, so sweet, so smart, so funny, so loving, so amazing.
I. Love. Him.

lucky August 28, 2008

You are so lucky.
You are so lucky.

She says it all the time, T’s mother’s cousin Margery, when referring to K/F. I always thought she just meant it conversationally, like your kids are cute and you have a nice little family, a boy and a girl, how nice.

Then last time she added a bit about a family she knows whose 4 year old has leukemia. Then she mentioned another family, with a young boy who died from cancer. She, Margery, is of course fighting her second bout of cancer herself–  surgery and radiation. And finally, dumb me, I get it. I am SO LUCKY.

I am trying very very hard to say this every day. I am SO LUCKY. I will myself to stop worrying about all the possibles, and eventuals, and maybes in our future. Truth be told, I know nothing of our future. Anyone could get sick at any time. Anyone could die. But for today, I am SO LUCKY, because we are all ok.

We have everything we need.

vortex August 14, 2008

I love my babies. I love my kids. That said, these past couple of days weeks are killing me. I am so tired, like bone tired. Even when I get enough sleep I am bone tired. I know from reading other things on the www that I’m not alone in this. My situation is not unique or special or noteworthy in any way, except that it’s mine.

Oddly, I don’t type this to complain, but rather to marvel. Marvel that this parenthood thing has been going on for so long, with such apparent success. I mean, the species has not faltered due to lack of reproduction, in turn due to parenting being so damn hard.

I know that perhaps my age and our current familial situation likely has something to do with my fatigue. We have separate schedules. We are essentially taking turns being single parents (and with that statement I will piss off all the truly single parents). I am relying on my parents for childcare every week lately. They have been happy to help thus far, but I don’t want to suck them dry. I want them to have the energy for and luxury of being grandparents.

My father said to me the other day: These days will pass quickly; ENJOY them. That made me sad because it says that to an outsider, I’m not enjoying this. Though I am. When I’m not worrying about something, or tending to a sick one, or re-doing our budget to see if we can afford food AND daycare, or trying to pick up for the millionth time the ten-millionth toy, or basket of laundry, or pair of shoes. I do so enjoy them when I get a little sleep and don’t have the other pre-occupations. I love to sit and play ball with F. I love to read to K. I love to have time alone with each of them. I love to lay on the bed with them and hug. I love to go for walks and to the library. I love them and they bring me such joy. I can’t believe they’re my kids; I can’t even believe I HAVE kids some days. But here are these 2 little wonders who are so smart and funny and cute and precocious that they fill my heart.

My friend keeps saying that we’re in the vortex, lay flat, lay low, wait to be shot out of the tornado. And from experience, I know that is true. Once F is one year old (in 5 weeks), I will begin my slow ascent back to normalcy. I can stop pumping, can breast feed at will, with leisure. Can stop freezing milk and washing bottles. She will slowly transition to her own crib. As we get through this first year, I’ll have a better idea of our finances and how they have been affected by adding a person to our lives. I won’t need to worry so much about medical issues; she will have made it to one year. As our house/yard become more lead-free, I can cross that off my list of worries. As she gets older and I can leave her without her crying her head off, I will not feel so pressed to rush around squeezing in housework as able. Even this makes it sound a little like I’m just wishing away their early childhoods. But I’m NOT. I am simply trying to make it out the other side.

In the meantime, I try to act somewhat sanely and balance at least a little. I’m not doing so well, I know, but I will do better.

fresh mozzarella August 12, 2008

So did you know that when a kid gets sick, then doesn’t eat for three days, but drinks a lot of milk, and takes a lot of ibuprofen.. . . .well then sometimes his stomach gets upset and he vomits. . . . it looks just like logs of fresh mozzarella balls. I should have taken photos. Damn.

my 10month girl August 11, 2008

It strikes me that perhaps it’s unbalanced that my F posts are joy and my K posts are difficulty. That of course is not indicative of their whole beings, it just happens to be their ages and where we’re at these days. After this love letter to my daughter, I’ll try to switch in up a bit more.

Her physical entity: Our F is really growing. . . not so much in stature, she is still a little fireplug—sturdy, solid, muscle and mass. But she can do so much now. Two weeks ago she got 4 teeth and started to crawl. About a week ago, she finally rolled over. Now I wake up to her sitting in bed next to me. Or having crawled over and inserted herself into the space between the wall and the bed. Or having rolled over and bumped her head on the wall. You get the idea.

She is so so so different than K was. She puts EVERYthing in her mouth. She is a little vacuum cleaner, crawling along, hoovering up every speck of dust with her particular little pincer grasp. (She’s still quite good with her fine motor skills.)

Her temperament: When she is happy, she is joy. When she is mad, she is furor. In the last couple of days, she has started to throw back her head, arch her back, stick out her legs and scream/cry/wail/keen. It’s almost funny how mad she gets. Of course, if I then pick her up or rescue her from whomever else is trying to hold her, she throws them a smug, I’m-so-cute, AND I’VE WON smile. She is a smarty (and spoiled).

(Note that now, as I continue this, she is almost 11 months. . . )

She continues to charm, bewitch, captivate, and generally wrap-around-her-finger everyone who falls within her realm. I picked her up at school one day and one of the other parents said: That’s your daughter? She’s always so engaged and interested in whomever is coming in the door. She’s like a little ambassador.

Yes, she is.

I remember the nurse in the hospital said something like: There’s something about her, her eyes, her look, her wisdom, her something. She’s special. The pediatrician said something similar. I know that’s what people say about babies and I’m not necessarily relating this to brag (though I have no problem bragging about her), but rather to document for her that she has always been noticed for the light shining out of her eyes. . . . always.

She still laughs so hard at K. They tussle and wrestle and she laughs and laughs. He helps me out quite a bit by making her laugh (instead of continuing to cry as she is wont to do.) In the last 2 weeks, she has started to play ball or push car – - basically a reciprocal game of back and forth. Last night she picked up a doll and said: Baa Baa. She kisses it with a big open-mouth suck. She holds it out to be kissed. She’s very serious as she notices things throughout the day. Her pointer finger is pretty much always extended toward something as she utters: Da Da. Then she looks at you for confirmation, like, did you SEE that. Very serious. My mother said that she will try to repeat whatever word you might say to her. I’ve kind of heard her say: Buh-duh (brother) and a few other approximations.

A couple of weeks ago she started waving in earnest. She makes a circle motion for fan. She waves one hand for hello/goodbye. She waves both hands for everything else. She waves at the drop of a hat.

She loves bath time and tries to tip over so she can drink the bath-water.

While sitting on her bum, she bounces up and down so hard she almost leaves the ground.

She’s moving about with a purposeful crawl. She pulls herself up. She occasionally will do a funny 2 straight-legs crawl and try to stand up. When she’s laying on her back getting her diaper changed, she puts her legs in the air, pointing opposite directions, basically doing the splits, and then pats the inside of both thighs and laughs.

Since we started daycare, both K/F have been sick (but that’s a whole other post).

We’re going to start transitioning her into her own crib soon. Parts of me are happy about that, but I’d have to say that most of me is sad. I like sleeping with her. I like night-feedings (though yes, they tire me). I like waking up to her. This morning she woke up, rolled over, and waved at me. Big smile, big eyes. I’m going to miss her at night. But I know it’s probably for the best of the whole family that she move on.