A whole bunch of acquaintances have had babies in the last month or so, and I have not been keeping up with my usual congratulations.
First off, congrats to my neighbor! Aspen Jennifer C, born in early November, weighing 8 lbs and 10(?)oz. The mom had one heck of a long and challenging labor but did manage to still have a vaginal delivery and is doing really well.
Second, congrats to a fellow mom at Cooper's daycare! Ruby Jane C, born right before Thanksgiving, weighing something petite along the lines of 6lbs. From what I heard, she had a very straightforward home birth. They use the same midwife as us, too. Yay!
I titled this post "Baby names" because Ruby and Aspen are both non-typical names. They aren't something that I would name my own kid (for a few reasons) but I don't find them objectionable, really. I think my attitude towards baby names is softening. But rest assured, our second child will have a name that is relatively easy to spell, say, and remember. It will also probably not be gender neutral, although I think we still have one on the list that works for both. We are down to 7 boy options and 10 girl options, so that's pretty good for about a month to go!
Monday, December 28, 2009
Saturday, December 26, 2009
Santa's gonna eat me!
Cooper is a child with ample caution and he's often slow to warm up to a new thing, situation or place, but it seems like he only has a few real fears. Every once in a while, we run into something he's actually afraid of, and I must say it is quite amazing how strong his reaction is.
Regrettably, our neighbor just aided us in the discovery that Cooper is extremely petrified, to the point of shaking, shrieking, and attempting to claw his way through a closed door, of animatronic dwarf Santas that sing Christmas carols. Yes, the kind of horrible kitschy things that you normally smirk at in store windows. Well, our kind elderly neighbors who we really like have one of these things. Its about two feet tall, does a hurky-jerky dance, and has terrible sound quality. And bless her heart, Gladys (age 89) thought maybe Cooper would like to see it dance and sing. Up until that time, Cooper and I had been visiting with Gladys and Ray, chatting about the weather and what they had for Christmas dinner.
God no. Hell no. As we sat on her manicured couch, Cooper watched it with eyes the size of saucers for about 15 seconds, and then he started shrieking like I've never heard him scream before. It was hilarious and tragic all at the same time. The santa was pretty far from him- maybe 15 feet- but none the less he dove from sitting beside me, onto my lap, and then attempted to climb OVER me to the area behind the couch, seemingly to increase the distance between the horrible thing and him.
Of course I dragged his kicking and screaming body back onto my lap and told him it was ok, that it was just a toy. The high pitched death shriek continued and then he started shaking uncontrollably, crying hysterically, and kicking me to try to get free. Thinking it might help to set him down, I put him down on the floor. A screaming fit ensued as Cooper ran pell-mell to the front door and tried to get it open, clawing and pounding and violently kicking to try to escape. "DADA HOME DADA DADA NO NO NO HOME HOME HOME OUTSIDE PLEASE OUTSIDE PLEASE DADA NOOOOO MOMMAAA!"
Poor Gladys. She's old, and arthritic, and could simply not turn the damn thing off fast enough. Meanwhile, her husband Ray is sitting in an easy chair next to us, dying. Yes, you read that right, the man is dying. He probably has only a few weeks (days) left to live. You could claim it is heart failure, but that would be simply ignoring the fact that he's 91 and a train wreck, medically speaking. It is just that his heart is going to be what takes him down for good. If you ask me, it would be for the best if he died tonight- but I'm not his devoted and loving wife of 69 years, a woman that has outlived all her siblings, as well as two out of three of their kids, so take that as you may.
The reason I mention this is that Ray is staring at Cooper with this look somewhere between amusement and horror, and I could be wrong, but I think he was surpressing a laugh. I think this episode was probably the highlight of his day. If nothing else, because of his extreme hearing loss, Cooper's hysterical shrieking was probably the only thing he actually heard all day.
I'm not saying Ray is sadistic. I'm saying the man does nothing but sleep, be in pain, and watch TV all day, and then sleep and be in pain all night. It is no way to live. And he loves watching Cooper. I try to get Cooper to play in the places in the yard where I know that Ray and Gladys will "secretly" spy on us through the windows, so that they can see him. Of course, I know that Ray would have preferred that Cooper actually enjoy his time at the house, perhaps by eating cookies and reading Gladys' 72 year old high school yearbook that she keeps out (which I love). But, given the circumstance, I can see where Ray would have been amused by Cooper's total abject horror at the dancing Santa.
Not surprisingly, Cooper had a lot of trouble falling asleep tonight. As Matt and I sat upstairs writing holiday thank you notes, we listened to him whimper and cry and so forth. Then, he started screaming like he was dying. We looked at each other simultaneously, I sighed, and Matt said in a funny imitation of Cooper, "Mama! Santa's gonna eat me!" Which made both of us laugh, and then we walked downstairs to try to convince the little guy that in fact, evil animatronic Santa was not going to eat him in his sleep.
Regrettably, our neighbor just aided us in the discovery that Cooper is extremely petrified, to the point of shaking, shrieking, and attempting to claw his way through a closed door, of animatronic dwarf Santas that sing Christmas carols. Yes, the kind of horrible kitschy things that you normally smirk at in store windows. Well, our kind elderly neighbors who we really like have one of these things. Its about two feet tall, does a hurky-jerky dance, and has terrible sound quality. And bless her heart, Gladys (age 89) thought maybe Cooper would like to see it dance and sing. Up until that time, Cooper and I had been visiting with Gladys and Ray, chatting about the weather and what they had for Christmas dinner.
God no. Hell no. As we sat on her manicured couch, Cooper watched it with eyes the size of saucers for about 15 seconds, and then he started shrieking like I've never heard him scream before. It was hilarious and tragic all at the same time. The santa was pretty far from him- maybe 15 feet- but none the less he dove from sitting beside me, onto my lap, and then attempted to climb OVER me to the area behind the couch, seemingly to increase the distance between the horrible thing and him.
Of course I dragged his kicking and screaming body back onto my lap and told him it was ok, that it was just a toy. The high pitched death shriek continued and then he started shaking uncontrollably, crying hysterically, and kicking me to try to get free. Thinking it might help to set him down, I put him down on the floor. A screaming fit ensued as Cooper ran pell-mell to the front door and tried to get it open, clawing and pounding and violently kicking to try to escape. "DADA HOME DADA DADA NO NO NO HOME HOME HOME OUTSIDE PLEASE OUTSIDE PLEASE DADA NOOOOO MOMMAAA!"
Poor Gladys. She's old, and arthritic, and could simply not turn the damn thing off fast enough. Meanwhile, her husband Ray is sitting in an easy chair next to us, dying. Yes, you read that right, the man is dying. He probably has only a few weeks (days) left to live. You could claim it is heart failure, but that would be simply ignoring the fact that he's 91 and a train wreck, medically speaking. It is just that his heart is going to be what takes him down for good. If you ask me, it would be for the best if he died tonight- but I'm not his devoted and loving wife of 69 years, a woman that has outlived all her siblings, as well as two out of three of their kids, so take that as you may.
The reason I mention this is that Ray is staring at Cooper with this look somewhere between amusement and horror, and I could be wrong, but I think he was surpressing a laugh. I think this episode was probably the highlight of his day. If nothing else, because of his extreme hearing loss, Cooper's hysterical shrieking was probably the only thing he actually heard all day.
I'm not saying Ray is sadistic. I'm saying the man does nothing but sleep, be in pain, and watch TV all day, and then sleep and be in pain all night. It is no way to live. And he loves watching Cooper. I try to get Cooper to play in the places in the yard where I know that Ray and Gladys will "secretly" spy on us through the windows, so that they can see him. Of course, I know that Ray would have preferred that Cooper actually enjoy his time at the house, perhaps by eating cookies and reading Gladys' 72 year old high school yearbook that she keeps out (which I love). But, given the circumstance, I can see where Ray would have been amused by Cooper's total abject horror at the dancing Santa.
Not surprisingly, Cooper had a lot of trouble falling asleep tonight. As Matt and I sat upstairs writing holiday thank you notes, we listened to him whimper and cry and so forth. Then, he started screaming like he was dying. We looked at each other simultaneously, I sighed, and Matt said in a funny imitation of Cooper, "Mama! Santa's gonna eat me!" Which made both of us laugh, and then we walked downstairs to try to convince the little guy that in fact, evil animatronic Santa was not going to eat him in his sleep.
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
NO Bucky!
I've been impatient with the dog lately. The weather has been tough, so he's gone for very few walks, which makes him whiney and clingy and that in turn makes me sort of batty. A lot of the time, I end up getting pretty short with him when he barks, or whines, or generally isn't a perfect dog.
I realized today that I might need to work on my communications skills with Lucky when he barked at a strange person that was walking by the house. It was one low quiet bark- quite appropriate given that he's a dog and all- and I wouldn't normally object to this sort of soft warning bark if it is indicating he sees a stranger, which it clearly was. But Cooper did object. And in a mean stern voice (for a toddler) he yelled right at the dog, while pointing at him.
"NO Bucky! Shhhhhhhhhhh! Down!"
You could have scraped my eyebrows off the ceiling. Cooper has no idea that the dog's name is Lucky. Truly. He thinks it is Big Doggie (pronounced Beet Daw-ghee) and that is how he always refers to the dog. So I think that really, this was a case of Cooper repeating me and Matt pretty much verbatim from the million times we've said this in Cooper's presence.
That's not good. We need to walk the dog more. Or we need to be nicer to Lucky. Or I should say, Bucky.
I realized today that I might need to work on my communications skills with Lucky when he barked at a strange person that was walking by the house. It was one low quiet bark- quite appropriate given that he's a dog and all- and I wouldn't normally object to this sort of soft warning bark if it is indicating he sees a stranger, which it clearly was. But Cooper did object. And in a mean stern voice (for a toddler) he yelled right at the dog, while pointing at him.
"NO Bucky! Shhhhhhhhhhh! Down!"
You could have scraped my eyebrows off the ceiling. Cooper has no idea that the dog's name is Lucky. Truly. He thinks it is Big Doggie (pronounced Beet Daw-ghee) and that is how he always refers to the dog. So I think that really, this was a case of Cooper repeating me and Matt pretty much verbatim from the million times we've said this in Cooper's presence.
That's not good. We need to walk the dog more. Or we need to be nicer to Lucky. Or I should say, Bucky.
Monday, December 21, 2009
Low pressure system
Cooper is a quirky eater. Matt and I try hard to get him to eat lots of things, and indeed he eats a wide scope of foods, but on any given day it is impossible to say what he might eat. Or what he won't eat. And of course we are constantly attempting to improve the variety of things he will eat.
Last night he ate a passable dinner of peas and rice, and then he refused to nibble on steak. But he wanted to eat the steak- we could see it in his eyes. But he only wanted to eat it on his terms. In the interest of getting him to eat something with protein in it, we placed the tiny steak nibbles on a plate, set that plate out of his reach, and ignored it.
He got down out of his chair and wanted to play with his car and truck collection "Boo boo down. Boo boo trucks." So that was fine. Then he took his truck bucket, set it upside down next to the dinner table, and climbed up onto it. He snagged a tiny nibble of steak delicately off the table, and then ran off with it in his mouth. He chewed and swallowed it in the living room.
This repeated itself about, oh 20 times. Until all his steak was gone. And then he came over to me and demanded to sit on my lap "Boo boo up! Boo boo chair!" and eat MY steak off MY plate. So I let him do that, too.
I think it is really interesting how he sometimes resists eating things until all the pressure is off, and it is completely on what he thinks are his terms. I'm guessing it is normal toddler development stuff. Control, decision making, power, etc. But as a parent, I am still a little amazed by the reality. Steak in front of your cool booster seat, eating like your parents, using your favorite fork? No. Steak 'secretly' snagged off a corner of the kitchen table while standing on an upside down bucket? Delicious.
For the record, sometimes he eats steak at the table like a normal child. It'll be a great day when I can replace 'sometimes' with 'nearly always.'
Last night he ate a passable dinner of peas and rice, and then he refused to nibble on steak. But he wanted to eat the steak- we could see it in his eyes. But he only wanted to eat it on his terms. In the interest of getting him to eat something with protein in it, we placed the tiny steak nibbles on a plate, set that plate out of his reach, and ignored it.
He got down out of his chair and wanted to play with his car and truck collection "Boo boo down. Boo boo trucks." So that was fine. Then he took his truck bucket, set it upside down next to the dinner table, and climbed up onto it. He snagged a tiny nibble of steak delicately off the table, and then ran off with it in his mouth. He chewed and swallowed it in the living room.
This repeated itself about, oh 20 times. Until all his steak was gone. And then he came over to me and demanded to sit on my lap "Boo boo up! Boo boo chair!" and eat MY steak off MY plate. So I let him do that, too.
I think it is really interesting how he sometimes resists eating things until all the pressure is off, and it is completely on what he thinks are his terms. I'm guessing it is normal toddler development stuff. Control, decision making, power, etc. But as a parent, I am still a little amazed by the reality. Steak in front of your cool booster seat, eating like your parents, using your favorite fork? No. Steak 'secretly' snagged off a corner of the kitchen table while standing on an upside down bucket? Delicious.
For the record, sometimes he eats steak at the table like a normal child. It'll be a great day when I can replace 'sometimes' with 'nearly always.'
Saturday, December 19, 2009
The odds
Cooper isn't at particularly high risk for any inherited diseases, that we know of. Matt and I have relatively healthy backgrounds with only the most classical of family characteristics- some cardiac problems, cancers, etc- but nothing that is a red flag for really high risk.
But one thing that I'm fixated on for no good reason is his risk for being colorblind. I don't know why I care so much. Really, it isn't even a disability. You can't tell someone is colorblind in an everyday setting. But he's quite high risk. Because he's a boy, and he has a colorblind great uncle, he had about a 1 in 16 chance of being colorblind. That's about three times the average chance for a caucasian boy.
If you want to know how I figured this out, it is not too hard if you remember your "wrinkly peas" from high school. His great uncle (my mom's brother) is red-green classically colorblind, but my mother is not. That means that my mom has a 50/50 chance of being a colorblind carrier. Which gives me a 1 in 4 chance of being a colorblind carrier. Which gives Cooper a 1 in 16 chance of being colorblind, or slightly higher, depending on some interesting new theories of gene expression that I won't get into.
Also, Cooper had a 50/50 chance of being the bright little towhead that he is. We seem to have won that coin toss (gosh he's cute!). I'm genetically half towhead, half dominant brown while Matt is double towheaded and was a sparkly bright white haired youngster. I do wonder if Baby Two will be a blondie or brown. It'll only be obvious around 4 to 6 months out, if Cooper's hair history of going brown- strawberry blonde- towhead is any indicator.
And then there is the fact that we could, potentially, get a redhead. That'd be awesome. Unlikely, but both Matt and I have redheaded relatives, so it is in there.
Fun stuff. Anyone want to flip a coin on Baby Two's hair color?
But one thing that I'm fixated on for no good reason is his risk for being colorblind. I don't know why I care so much. Really, it isn't even a disability. You can't tell someone is colorblind in an everyday setting. But he's quite high risk. Because he's a boy, and he has a colorblind great uncle, he had about a 1 in 16 chance of being colorblind. That's about three times the average chance for a caucasian boy.
If you want to know how I figured this out, it is not too hard if you remember your "wrinkly peas" from high school. His great uncle (my mom's brother) is red-green classically colorblind, but my mother is not. That means that my mom has a 50/50 chance of being a colorblind carrier. Which gives me a 1 in 4 chance of being a colorblind carrier. Which gives Cooper a 1 in 16 chance of being colorblind, or slightly higher, depending on some interesting new theories of gene expression that I won't get into.
Also, Cooper had a 50/50 chance of being the bright little towhead that he is. We seem to have won that coin toss (gosh he's cute!). I'm genetically half towhead, half dominant brown while Matt is double towheaded and was a sparkly bright white haired youngster. I do wonder if Baby Two will be a blondie or brown. It'll only be obvious around 4 to 6 months out, if Cooper's hair history of going brown- strawberry blonde- towhead is any indicator.
And then there is the fact that we could, potentially, get a redhead. That'd be awesome. Unlikely, but both Matt and I have redheaded relatives, so it is in there.
Fun stuff. Anyone want to flip a coin on Baby Two's hair color?
Friday, December 18, 2009
'Cause big boys wear pants and boots
The concrete pouring dudes all arrived at my house at 8:30 this morning, just as Cooper and I were settling in for breakfast. Of course, he was totally fascinated by the "bus" (his logical conclusion for what a concrete truck is, given his somewhat limited vocab) and all the "dadas" (the workers).
After a few minutes of watching, his little brain finally registered a very important detail, if you are toddler boy. All these cool, rugged, construction guys were wearing pants and boots. Not one of them was wearing fleece pajamas with bears on them. In order to be cool like them, he needed to be wearing pants and boots. Clearly.
So he ran into his bedroom and demanded to get dressed in his nice cargo pants, which I was happy to oblige. Then he ran into the entry way and put on his bright yellow rain boots (all by himself! socks not necessary!). Satisfied that he was now adequately dressed for the day, he got back up into his chair and ate some more cheerios. I think they taste better when you are wearing pants and boots.
After a few minutes of watching, his little brain finally registered a very important detail, if you are toddler boy. All these cool, rugged, construction guys were wearing pants and boots. Not one of them was wearing fleece pajamas with bears on them. In order to be cool like them, he needed to be wearing pants and boots. Clearly.
So he ran into his bedroom and demanded to get dressed in his nice cargo pants, which I was happy to oblige. Then he ran into the entry way and put on his bright yellow rain boots (all by himself! socks not necessary!). Satisfied that he was now adequately dressed for the day, he got back up into his chair and ate some more cheerios. I think they taste better when you are wearing pants and boots.
Thursday, December 17, 2009
How did you two meet?
People like to ask couples how they met. In general, I'm OK with that. It is not like it is intrusive or something. But even though it has been just about 7 (or is it 8?) years since Matt and I met, I still don't really know how to answer the question, and it makes me slightly uncomfortable.
All of these are true, valid, and fairly explanatory. But which should I say?
We met...
... through a mutual friend.
... at a dinner party.
... because Matt's housemate at the time was a talkative "ladies man" that sort of tried to pick me up in a coffee shop.
... because I was a single girl with no plans on a Friday night, so when a friend of a friend invited me over for dinner, I jumped on it.
I guess it doesn't really matter.
But, there is this other thing that bothers me about this question. The mutual friend- the precise and actual point of linkage, not the housemate (he functioned more as an intermediary)- is dead. So is his little boy. They were both killed just over two years ago by a drunk driver, in the middle of the day. His wife was not in the car when they were hit.
And I always have this weird urge to tell people that part of the story. I want to say, "We met through a mutual friend. He was a great guy. He and his toddler son were killed in 2007 by a drunk driver." But MY GOD what a horrible way to ruin a conversation at a casual holiday party, or someone's nice little potluck dinner. So I never say that.
But it is true. The person that was fated to be the one that linked Matt and I is now dead. He was a good guy that thought Matt should "finally meet a nice cute girl" and I somehow fit the bill. He was a loving father to a sweet little boy. And they were obliterated five years later by a drunken jerk in a big pickup truck.
All of these are true, valid, and fairly explanatory. But which should I say?
We met...
... through a mutual friend.
... at a dinner party.
... because Matt's housemate at the time was a talkative "ladies man" that sort of tried to pick me up in a coffee shop.
... because I was a single girl with no plans on a Friday night, so when a friend of a friend invited me over for dinner, I jumped on it.
I guess it doesn't really matter.
But, there is this other thing that bothers me about this question. The mutual friend- the precise and actual point of linkage, not the housemate (he functioned more as an intermediary)- is dead. So is his little boy. They were both killed just over two years ago by a drunk driver, in the middle of the day. His wife was not in the car when they were hit.
And I always have this weird urge to tell people that part of the story. I want to say, "We met through a mutual friend. He was a great guy. He and his toddler son were killed in 2007 by a drunk driver." But MY GOD what a horrible way to ruin a conversation at a casual holiday party, or someone's nice little potluck dinner. So I never say that.
But it is true. The person that was fated to be the one that linked Matt and I is now dead. He was a good guy that thought Matt should "finally meet a nice cute girl" and I somehow fit the bill. He was a loving father to a sweet little boy. And they were obliterated five years later by a drunken jerk in a big pickup truck.
Monday, December 14, 2009
This kid can sleeeeeep
Poor little Cooper was grumpy yesterday, and felt a tiny bit warm to the touch. Perhaps most tellingly, he took two naps instead of just one. That's a red flag around here. He also didn't eat well. It is unclear if he's still working on his last mild cold, or if he's got a new one. Either way, there is something up.
So we put him to bed a little early- 7:20- and hoped for the best.
It is now 7:56. He's been asleep close to 13 hours.
We are so spoiled.
UPDATE: He ended up sleeping until 8:45. That's just about 13.5 hours. He also woke up emphatically chanting "Horses! Horses!" which was quite charming.
So we put him to bed a little early- 7:20- and hoped for the best.
It is now 7:56. He's been asleep close to 13 hours.
We are so spoiled.
UPDATE: He ended up sleeping until 8:45. That's just about 13.5 hours. He also woke up emphatically chanting "Horses! Horses!" which was quite charming.
Sunday, December 13, 2009
Turns out, I'm having a baby
That's right, people! I'm having a baby. Yup! Good chance it will happen late this January, but if not, then certainly in early February.
Several times in the last week, I've run into friends or acquaintances that I have not seen in many months. Pretty much universally, and also much to my amusement, my current state of abundantly obvious pregnancy leaves them slackjawed. And usually saying something mighty silly, like "how did this happen?" That was a funny one, because I was well rested and feeling spunky, so I snarkily replied, "When a mommy loves a daddy very much..."
Today a friend of mine threw a baby party for me. It was great. There were other people's babies (Matt hung out with Cooper so I could relax at the party) and lots of nice friends, and I got hardly any gifts (this was intentional) except a few nice tokens of friendship- a frozen lasagna, some flowers, a couple nice christmas ornaments, and a really cute and bright mini wall quilt.
Last night I was thinking about it, and I realized that baby time is coming up pretty soon. Winter does sort of drag time out, but the holidays make it move fast at times, so really... all of a sudden it seems very much closer. Well under the 2 month mark now- yikes!
Also, as a final note, the baby we know that is at the hospital is continuing to improve. She is finally nursing again (instead of having a feeding tube) and things are looking pretty good. I am sooooo thrilled for them. Even as someone who hardly knows the family, it has been really tough to think about what they must be going through. Hurray for further improvements!
Several times in the last week, I've run into friends or acquaintances that I have not seen in many months. Pretty much universally, and also much to my amusement, my current state of abundantly obvious pregnancy leaves them slackjawed. And usually saying something mighty silly, like "how did this happen?" That was a funny one, because I was well rested and feeling spunky, so I snarkily replied, "When a mommy loves a daddy very much..."
Today a friend of mine threw a baby party for me. It was great. There were other people's babies (Matt hung out with Cooper so I could relax at the party) and lots of nice friends, and I got hardly any gifts (this was intentional) except a few nice tokens of friendship- a frozen lasagna, some flowers, a couple nice christmas ornaments, and a really cute and bright mini wall quilt.
Last night I was thinking about it, and I realized that baby time is coming up pretty soon. Winter does sort of drag time out, but the holidays make it move fast at times, so really... all of a sudden it seems very much closer. Well under the 2 month mark now- yikes!
Also, as a final note, the baby we know that is at the hospital is continuing to improve. She is finally nursing again (instead of having a feeding tube) and things are looking pretty good. I am sooooo thrilled for them. Even as someone who hardly knows the family, it has been really tough to think about what they must be going through. Hurray for further improvements!
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
Let's face it, I am selfish
First of all, the baby we know in the hospital apparently had a much better night last night, and is no longer on oxygen. So that is a huge improvement and I am so relieved for the family!
As a result of this, I've done some searching around the internet about RSV, the virus that this little baby caught. My eyebrows went up to my hairline when I read that in many toddlers, RSV is a mild cold, sometimes with a fever, that then often progresses into 1 - 4 weeks of persistent coughing. Doesn't that sound familiar?
So it is fairly likely that Cooper just had this virus. Of course, we could have also deduced that Cooper has already had this virus because his buddy (the older sister of the hospitalized baby) goes to the same daycare as him, and RSV is extremely contagious, and the way that nearly all babies get this virus is from their older siblings, so it is hard to imagine that all the kids in our daycare didn't recently have this virus.
Anyway, my selfishness. I am glad that Cooper had this virus already, because it did him (and me) no lasting harm, and now he's probably developed full immunity to it. Therefore, it is very, very unlikely that he'd be able to get it again and spread it to our second baby when that kid is born. And so that is one fewer nightmarish scenario that I need to consider while getting up for the bazillionth time in the middle of the night to go pee.
As a result of this, I've done some searching around the internet about RSV, the virus that this little baby caught. My eyebrows went up to my hairline when I read that in many toddlers, RSV is a mild cold, sometimes with a fever, that then often progresses into 1 - 4 weeks of persistent coughing. Doesn't that sound familiar?
So it is fairly likely that Cooper just had this virus. Of course, we could have also deduced that Cooper has already had this virus because his buddy (the older sister of the hospitalized baby) goes to the same daycare as him, and RSV is extremely contagious, and the way that nearly all babies get this virus is from their older siblings, so it is hard to imagine that all the kids in our daycare didn't recently have this virus.
Anyway, my selfishness. I am glad that Cooper had this virus already, because it did him (and me) no lasting harm, and now he's probably developed full immunity to it. Therefore, it is very, very unlikely that he'd be able to get it again and spread it to our second baby when that kid is born. And so that is one fewer nightmarish scenario that I need to consider while getting up for the bazillionth time in the middle of the night to go pee.
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
What can you even do?
I made a phone call today that very much reminded me of how unfair life is.
A woman I kinda know had her second child about two weeks ago. I know her because her older daughter is Cooper's age, and they go to daycare together, and completely coincidentally, the mom has a cool blog that I read. Well, at just two weeks old, her new baby contracted RSV (a common virus in kids, but not one you want a newborn to have) and is not doing well. So now new baby has been in the hospital for several days with IVs, oxygen, feeding tubes, etc... the little girl is having a very rough time. She might have pneumonia at this point, which is very scary in a newborn, as if the rest of it wasn't scary enough.
Of course I want to be able to do something but I don't know the family very well (although Cooper and her older daughter are friends), and I don't know what to do. How could you know what to do? So I called up another friend (M). Her little boy is very close to Cooper's age, and when her little guy was about 3 or 4 months he got an extremely rare and difficult to diagnose bacterial infection that very nearly killed him. He did eventually make a complete recovery, but it took months. I figured, if anyone knows what this family needs, it is another family that has been through a similar ordeal.
So I had to pose the question to M; given the situation, what can I do that will actually help? I'm not a close friend, so it is hard for me to feel like I can help in a personal way without being intrusive.
And then I realized that I might be bringing up really hard memories for M, and that maybe she didn't even want to discuss her whole experience from her little boy's scary illness. And so as I was talking, I started to fear I had done the wrong thing to call her about this. Luckily, I was wrong. She said that as it turns out she had just been over to the hospital yesterday to visit this other woman and her baby (it is, after all, a small town) and that while it was really upsetting to re-enter the infant intensive care area, and to have all those memories flooding back of tubes and monitors and oxygen tents and everything, it was also good for her to be able to relate and help another mom and baby.
After some discussion, M actually pretty much decided for me what I should do, and it is a nice gesture that M says will be really helpful. I'm glad I talked it through with someone that has been there. So that makes me feel good.
But at the base of it all, I'd rather I had never made this call. I'd rather nobody ever when through this, and even that nobody I knew could even fathom what it was like- and frankly, I don't ever want to feel like I could or should help someone out again. Because I don't want to think about how fragile our little babies and kids really are. It is damn frightening how unfair and unpredictable life can be.
A woman I kinda know had her second child about two weeks ago. I know her because her older daughter is Cooper's age, and they go to daycare together, and completely coincidentally, the mom has a cool blog that I read. Well, at just two weeks old, her new baby contracted RSV (a common virus in kids, but not one you want a newborn to have) and is not doing well. So now new baby has been in the hospital for several days with IVs, oxygen, feeding tubes, etc... the little girl is having a very rough time. She might have pneumonia at this point, which is very scary in a newborn, as if the rest of it wasn't scary enough.
Of course I want to be able to do something but I don't know the family very well (although Cooper and her older daughter are friends), and I don't know what to do. How could you know what to do? So I called up another friend (M). Her little boy is very close to Cooper's age, and when her little guy was about 3 or 4 months he got an extremely rare and difficult to diagnose bacterial infection that very nearly killed him. He did eventually make a complete recovery, but it took months. I figured, if anyone knows what this family needs, it is another family that has been through a similar ordeal.
So I had to pose the question to M; given the situation, what can I do that will actually help? I'm not a close friend, so it is hard for me to feel like I can help in a personal way without being intrusive.
And then I realized that I might be bringing up really hard memories for M, and that maybe she didn't even want to discuss her whole experience from her little boy's scary illness. And so as I was talking, I started to fear I had done the wrong thing to call her about this. Luckily, I was wrong. She said that as it turns out she had just been over to the hospital yesterday to visit this other woman and her baby (it is, after all, a small town) and that while it was really upsetting to re-enter the infant intensive care area, and to have all those memories flooding back of tubes and monitors and oxygen tents and everything, it was also good for her to be able to relate and help another mom and baby.
After some discussion, M actually pretty much decided for me what I should do, and it is a nice gesture that M says will be really helpful. I'm glad I talked it through with someone that has been there. So that makes me feel good.
But at the base of it all, I'd rather I had never made this call. I'd rather nobody ever when through this, and even that nobody I knew could even fathom what it was like- and frankly, I don't ever want to feel like I could or should help someone out again. Because I don't want to think about how fragile our little babies and kids really are. It is damn frightening how unfair and unpredictable life can be.
Sunday, December 6, 2009
Reading the directions
I can't believe it. I've owned this damn sewing machine for just shy of six years and I never read the last page of the directions. It comes with this little metal thing called a "scrolling foot" that I've never bothered to figure out how to use. Well, turns out with a little practice, a scrolling foot makes FLAWLESS hems, perfectly measured, on any thin flat fabric like flannel, broadcloth, muslin or probably even seersucker. Seems to work on anything relatively thin (i.e. I really doubt that fleece will fit through it properly, although... microfleece...) I am in total heaven with my latest baby blanket project. Farewell, endless ironing, pinning, and cursing. Hello, scrolling foot. Where have you been all my life? Oh, wait, in a little box titled "Sewing odds and ends."
Saturday, December 5, 2009
Almost forgot about hiccups
Baby #2 gets hiccups constantly. I had almost forgotten about this phenomenon. I can feel each little jolt quite clearly, and it is somewhere between cute and aggravating. One reassurance is that the baby's hiccups are a good indicator of where the baby's head is, which is down low, so at least that's kinda nice.
Hic. hic. hic.
Hic. hic. hic.
Friday, December 4, 2009
Down on the snot farm
The great coughing debacle of 2009 faded out just a short while ago. Today, Cooper woke up with a tiny bit of yucky stuff in the corner of his eye, and I noticed that his nose was slightly runny. Nothing out of the ordinary. I kissed the boys goodbye and went to work.
Matt reports that by mid-day, he had wiped the kid's nose about 5,000 times. Sadly, Cooper refused to eat lunch, and then woke up early from his nap "plastered in his own mucus." He sneezed throughout the evening after I got home, and he has sort of a glazed look.
Looks like we have another cold in the house. Let's just hope this one passes without too much trouble and doesn't create another evil lingering cough. Perversely, I'm glad that it started on a Friday, as this means we have all weekend to sit around, read books, talk about doggies, and not have to take any sick days to watch the little bugger sniffle.
Matt reports that by mid-day, he had wiped the kid's nose about 5,000 times. Sadly, Cooper refused to eat lunch, and then woke up early from his nap "plastered in his own mucus." He sneezed throughout the evening after I got home, and he has sort of a glazed look.
Looks like we have another cold in the house. Let's just hope this one passes without too much trouble and doesn't create another evil lingering cough. Perversely, I'm glad that it started on a Friday, as this means we have all weekend to sit around, read books, talk about doggies, and not have to take any sick days to watch the little bugger sniffle.
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
Our helper monkey
You know that episode of the Simpsons where Homer gets a "helper monkey" that feeds him donuts? We're almost there.
Cooper's deep, deep desire to emulate adults, plus his love for pattern and sequential activities, has started to reach adorable levels of absurdity. We don't consciously try to teach him hardly anything, but he is watching everything so closely lately...
- If I or Matt are feeling lazy and don't put away our shoes, he'll put them away by the front door. In neat pairs. Keep in mind Matt's shoes are the size of Cooper's torso, so each one needs to be transported separately, and with both hands.
- While preparing for bath time, he carefully places all his clothing in the washing machine, then closes the door, then fiddles with the knobs, and then tries to pee on the rug (the baby toilet is strangely intimidating lately, so the rug is getting very frequent washings), and then asks to get in the bath. If he fails to pee on the rug, he tells me "No bee! All gone! Water!"
- When I am using the toilet and he thinks I am done, he carefully hands me the edge of the toilet paper roll, waits for me to "finish up," and then pulls up my pants for me.
- He puts his used water cup in the sink when he's done drinking, despite the fact that he cannot see the sink, nor reach it. He just kinda knows where it is, and lobs the cup in the right direction. His accuracy is pretty impressive, and he has about a 9 out of 10 cup-in-sink rate.
- If the downstairs baby gate is open, and I ask him to close it, he'll walk over, close it carefully, and then beam at me with evident pride at his helpfulness.
Now if I could just teach him to make waffles, tie my shoelaces, and walk the dog, we'd be all set.
Cooper's deep, deep desire to emulate adults, plus his love for pattern and sequential activities, has started to reach adorable levels of absurdity. We don't consciously try to teach him hardly anything, but he is watching everything so closely lately...
- If I or Matt are feeling lazy and don't put away our shoes, he'll put them away by the front door. In neat pairs. Keep in mind Matt's shoes are the size of Cooper's torso, so each one needs to be transported separately, and with both hands.
- While preparing for bath time, he carefully places all his clothing in the washing machine, then closes the door, then fiddles with the knobs, and then tries to pee on the rug (the baby toilet is strangely intimidating lately, so the rug is getting very frequent washings), and then asks to get in the bath. If he fails to pee on the rug, he tells me "No bee! All gone! Water!"
- When I am using the toilet and he thinks I am done, he carefully hands me the edge of the toilet paper roll, waits for me to "finish up," and then pulls up my pants for me.
- He puts his used water cup in the sink when he's done drinking, despite the fact that he cannot see the sink, nor reach it. He just kinda knows where it is, and lobs the cup in the right direction. His accuracy is pretty impressive, and he has about a 9 out of 10 cup-in-sink rate.
- If the downstairs baby gate is open, and I ask him to close it, he'll walk over, close it carefully, and then beam at me with evident pride at his helpfulness.
Now if I could just teach him to make waffles, tie my shoelaces, and walk the dog, we'd be all set.
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