I enjoy being a girl

Side Note: I've recently discovered I have all sorts of previously unrecognized readers out there, including the husband's grandmother/Baby J's great-grandmother (Hi, Grandma Van!). And, suddenly, I'm all self-conscious....does Grandma Van really want to hear about my bosom-induced swimsuit shopping travails?? It's almost enough to make me change my ways. Almost, but I'm too lazy! (Sorry, Grandmas Beth and Van!)

Moving on...should you have forgotten, I am raising a boy. Here are just some of the latest examples of J's boy antics:

Yesterday, I walked into the room and saw J sitting on the floor, staring delightedly at a new book. "Wonderful," I thought with pleasure, "he does like this one. What a good choice I made!" I was feeling quite self-congratulatory until I got closer...and saw the string of drool stretching from his mouth to the book. Indeed, in reality he was smiling in glee at having hocked his first loogie. What a treasure! (To give you some idea about my pleasure in that discovery, suffice it to say that in order to write this post, I had to look up how to spell both "hock" and "loogie," so foreign are these words to my vocabulary. Shudder!)

Later that same day, we went to the near-by park. Generally, we stick to the baby swings at this park, so as not to rumble with the older school-aged children who are having an after-school program at the community center there. This day, however, they weren't out playing, so J toddled over to the jungle gym, complete with stairs with multiple handrails (just for him) and three slides, all about four and a half feet tall. After rushing up the stairs, he was a bit confused about what to do next, until I sat him down on a slide and stood next to him as he slid down. He LOVED this and wanted to do it again, so, of course, he immediately tried to climb back up the slide in his plastic crocs, which resulted in his slipping and falling repeatedly. He was MOST put out that he couldn't get back up! Eventually, after I stopped laughing, I pointed him back in the direction of the stairs, and back up he went. Each time, I would point him to the stairs and then go and wait at the top of the slide to help him get situated, then meet him at the bottom. However, after three or four times down, he abruptly changed direction at the top and decided to go down another slide, far away from me, one we hadn't tried and one with twists. As I leapt over the intervening obstacles to get there in time, because WHO KNEW how fast this one was going to go, he also must have thought "Hey, going down on my bum is fun, but what if I just go down headfirst on my tummy?!" Just as I reached the bottom, his head hit my legs. Actually, I should say his smile hit my legs, because he was pleased as punch with himself. I, on the other hand, was a tad out of breath!

People have taken to calling J a "little bruiser," which isn't far from the truth. He walks like a little linebacker. He's also a bit of a daredevil: he has no fear, no inhibitions, and an uncanny ability to figure something out after having seen someone else do something similar once. A few days ago, I walked into the kitchen to find him halfway up our steel shelving unit. He's almost figured out how to climb out of his crib using a daring arial gymnastics move he invented after learning how to jump on his bed. Our dining room chairs now rest permanently on the dining room table when not in use, since he's learned to climb up on the table and launch himself off the side. He routinely attempts to jump out of, off of, or over anything or anyone that attempts to contain him. Sigh.....!

It's a masculine party around here, my friends!

Fever all through the night

Would that my title were ironic or obscure or, you know, anything but an apt description of last night's insanity. J got three vaccinations yesterday (due to the doctor's being out of chicken pox last time we went). He was very brave, not crying at all. Actually, that's not really accurate. With the first shot, he was shocked; with the second, hurt; and by the third shot, he was really, really angry. He practically growled at the nurse, wrenching his arm away from her so violently I almost dropped him when she was trying to put on the Band-Aids. He was most put out, but just with her, thankfully! (It's her job; I feel no guilt about being happy he associated all his bad feelings with her.)

As usual, they said he might have a fever later because of the tetanus and then again (a fever or a rash or something) 10-14 days later because of the polio or chicken pox or both. In the past, he has had a mild feverish reaction every time we get shots, so I dosed him with tylenol after we left the office, and we went on our (not so merry) way. That evening, I forgot to tell the husband to give him another dose before he put J down, but J seemed totally fine, so I didn't pursue it.

Big mistake. HUGE.

At 11 pm I woke up to hear a strange, frenzied, keening kind of crying. It was so odd, I went to check on J. I found him huddled on his haunches in the corner of the crib, rocking back and forth rapidly. When I picked him up, he felt like he was on fire. His temperature was at least 105 (I stopped measuring at that point and moved into prevention mode). We had some Tylenol, drank some water, took off some clothes, turned on a fan, and wet his head. Then we rocked and rocked and rocked and I prayed and prayed (because what else can you do? Take him back to the doctor who gave him the fever in the first place??). Finally, with a very awake baby in my lap, we got up.

And up we stayed for many hours. He didn't fall back into anything resembling sleep until almost 3 am, and even then he wouldn't let me leave his side, so we both crashed in the guest room. He slept fitfully while I passed in and out of consciousness but was mostly in, unfortunately, as I tried to keep us both from falling out of bed. At 6:30 am, he woke up again for good this time, so I took him into our bedroom, woke up the husband, explained he still had a temp and needed more medicine, and cried that I had to get some actual sleep before the husband went into work or we both weren't going to make it through the day. Thankfully, I got another solid hour and a half of sleep, and we survived today, barely, with an ongoing fever and a desperately unhappy baby who didn't know what he wanted from one minute to the next.

Right now, it's 7:20 pm on a Friday night, and I am about to get into bed. J is already in his, with still more Tylenol on board, and the husband is working late. I'm exhausted. I had a nightmare that J got chicken pox. I think I was hallucinating at one point this afternoon. Let's all be grateful the day is mercifully over....

My super human might

Casseroles are my kryptonite.

I see them and I think, ooh, carby goodness! Sounds great! It's like my good sense says look, something shiny! And then I eat some and, for a while, I'm happy and satisfied and comforted and all those good things that can come from eating old school food.

But you see, this is my critical error: I forget that all casseroles are made of cream of cream and cheese and they will, within a matter of time, make me very, very ill. Because I really can't eat casseroles; the dairy in them is somehow the worst of all dairy for me and will shortly turn me inside out.

But I forget all this, you see, until it's late at night, and I'm writhing in pain for the first time in months, and I have a visceral understanding of my folly. And then I loathe casseroles, vats of roiling lactose waiting to pounce on the absentminded, cauldrons of cheese and cream avoiding the appearance of evil but secretly, in their heart of hearts (though I doubt they have hearts, fiends!), rotten to the core. Or, at least, rotten to my core.

I am eating dry toast and 7-Up today.

The end.

It's my birthday, too

Now, you see this face and you think "Ahh, cute...and needs a haircut." But really, this is the face of the birthday imp who has decided today that to celebrate his birth, he will

--truncate his first nap, resulting in a micro-mini, wholly unsatisfactory approximation of sleep.

--bite into an errant individual applesauce container, pierce through the foil for the first time, and suck out the contents like an efficient and giggling (and, presumably, well fed) monkey.

--demonstrate repeatedly that he can both suck off the floor if you don't get to him quickly enough AND blow bubbles and then spit them onto the floor in a puddle of frothy goodness (which he then sucked back up while I was trying to figure out what was going on).

--act like he's about to say "mama" while I'm changing his diaper, causing me to pause and encourage him to mouth the syllables, after which he looked deeply into my eyes, concentrated...and peed all over my shirt.

--follow up this display by saying "dada."

--throw up all over me and his new shirt before his second nap.

Happy Birthday!!

Rest your head on your pillow

I've been distracted this week, and a little disturbed, so I've studiously avoided blogging about this particular distraction. Also, I'm pretty sure this particular distraction proves once and for all, if there were any doubt, that I'm a bad mommy.

So, if you've been following, you've heard about J's Fall of Ear Infections. He either had two ear infections that never got cured or six or more infections one after the other starting in September and continuing until just before the holidays. In addition, he had sinusitis and a host of other symptoms from fever to chills to runny noses the likes of which I've never had to be that close to before.

And, he often couldn't breathe well. So he couldn't sleep well unless exhausted. Which meant that nights were relatively fine, but naps were nightmarish. So I started letting him sleep in his swing again. I mean, I didn't think it would work. All the books say that babies grow bored of their swings by 7 months or so. It was a desperation move, really, one very sad, sick day when we were both exhausted, and I was feeling like I had no other choice. And I put him in the swing and he conked right out and slept for 2 hours. And that afternoon, I did it again. And again. And again. And, before, we knew it, J was taking naps in his swing regularly. And that's the bad news.

But the good news was that he was taking regular, long, restorative naps for the first time in his life. He was waking up happy! He was in a great mood in between naps and going down without a whimper. We were both well rested and well adjusted and it was fabulous.

And such a bad idea. I know. I KNOW! So when the new year rolled around, and J was better, I decided to bite the bullet and retrain him to take naps. Again. And again and again and again.

And it's been awful. A half hour of crying and a half hour of sleep. Repeat two times a day since Monday, until yesterday afternoon when he'd fallen asleep in the car, and I couldn't subject him to the inevitable waking up that would come with the crib, so I put him in the swing again and he slept for an hour and a half.

And then today, I put the swing away, like a big girl. And I put him down for his morning nap and he cried for two minutes and went to sleep, like a big boy. And woke up 25 minutes later, cried a few times, and then put himself back to sleep, like a big boy. And slept for a total of an hour, the most this week. And I've played this game before, so I'm not thinking we've turned a corner or a had a breakthrough, but it makes this arduous week a teensy bit less awful. A teeny tiny teensy little bit.

I want to hide

Well, I was a little bit too optimistic when it came to my not getting sick. In fact, I have a stuffy head, sinus pressure, the lingering sore throat, sneezing, and a killer headache and they don't seem to be going away, no matter how hard I concentrate. So, in an effort to be proactive, I have an appointment with the doctor ("is 7:45 am too early?" no, I'll have been awake for hours by then, thank you very much) at which I plan to tell them no, this is not viral, it is clearly bacterial, as I have clearly gotten it from those around me, who are all being helped by antibiotics, and so I would like some of those, too. Only that may all come out as "blahwahwahughdrugs, please." Like I said, stuffy head.

In preparation, I am going to be nice and early tonight, even earlier than my normal 9-ish (so that I can be halfway awake for Seminary). Oops, the husband just asked for an eagle. It's code, you see, which means I need to go make a bottle (my job) for Baby J while the husband gets him out of the bath (his job), changes him into his pajamas (his job), and puts him to bed (also his job). Making sure that the husband is the one who puts the baby to sleep every night he's here? Priceless!

I think too much

We are busy bees here, what with all the sneezing, coughing, snoring, crying, and sighing going on. The husband appears to be mostly on the mend, and Baby J is moving toward being well, though he is still hacking up a lung, or so it seems, at times. The doctor asked me if his cough was "croupy." Umm, I've never heard a croupy cough, so how would I know. Oh, it's very distinctive, she tells me. Sure, I think, if you've heard it before. What do you expect from me, lady? So, of course, as soon as I left the doctor's office, I googled "croup audio" and wouldn't you know it? Some helpful health care site has handily included audio clips of all kinds of coughs just for worried moms like me. (Oh, and it's not croup, thank goodness, because UGH! Terrifying sounds!)

Every once in a while I have a moment like this, of pure, unadulterated love for the Internets. I know that the Internet has caused a decline in student scholarly ability (because why look anywhere besides Wikipedia?? they say), and I know there is much to be researched that is not cataloged electronically and is therefore now missed, but in these happy moments, I am grateful for the ease with which most information can now come to me. For someone like me, who doesn't make a move without doing some thorough (some would say obsessive) research, the Web is a treasure trove, a time saver, the answer to many, if not all, of my questions. And in this case, it eased my mind considerably, since the doctor's breezy "oh, I sure it's not croup" wasn't particularly reassuring, funnily enough.

She's just my type

Oh, the joys of childproofing. Once again, we visited the local home improvement store, this time seeking bolts to, umm, bolt various shelves and shelving units to the wall so they don't come crashing down on our agile offspring. We needed drywall screws and some other things that apparently don't exist, so we had to punt and make something up, again. We figured out how to use something called strapping to secure the kitchen shelves, requiring still more drywall screws.

We also determined that our lovely, large, and looming Expedit bookcase from Ikea has to be raised up over the baseboard, some 6 inches, in order to be bolted securely to the wall. After discussing our options, we decided we would use 2x12x12 boards screwed together to raise the bookshelf safely. Soo, we had to get our 12 foot boards cut into 6 foot halves. Ever had to haul wood to get cut at a home improvement store? With a baby? Awesome! Baby J sat in the shopping cart calmly while we hauled the first board far away from him (though still within eye sight) but protested about the second and began to cry when we went to get the cart to haul it all away.

And then there was the saw. Loud and whining and not much liked by baby J. But it had to be done. Now we can make more of our house less of a hazard, our ultimate goal. And our fixes will not be tooo much of an eyesore, we hope. Because aesthetics are really not the main concern...but I kind of like the way things look, you know? So there's that!

In the meantime, we are teaching J how to tell by the tone of our voices that chewing on cords or grabbing the guitar or emptying the kitchen trash are not activities of which we approve. So far, he's taking this tone to mean he needs to giggle and start to scuttle away as quickly as possible. Not exactly what we had in mind...but it will do in a pinch!

When good comes to bad

The Mission: design something that will house all the many cords under your desk so as to save your child from electrocution and protect the tech. Said device must be flexible in size since the number of cords varies depending on the electronics at work. The device must also allow for cords to be collected in one place but still reach the power strips and the electronics themselves.

The Stipulations: said device must be aesthetically pleasing enough not to be an eyesore in your main living space but completely unattractive to a small, curious, crawling baby who thinks cords are just the thing for teething. Oh, and apparently such a device as the one you want doesn't exist. Which makes, you know, no sense at all in this day and age.

The Challenge: visit home improvement stores and try to explain your thoughts to various employees, all of whom look at you with either confusion, condescension, or pity. Control your urges to throttle them and instead act sad and pathetic and dumb so they will help you. Count your lucky stars when one of your former students appears and, since apparently you gave him a good enough grade that he still likes you and he's wearing a name tag so it appears as if you remember his name, decides to help you figure out what sorts of materials you'll need for this contraption.

The Unlikely Suspects: after much debate and consultations with other employees (now happy to help when approached by one of their own), you decide to purchase a wire drawer (the kind meant to slide into a closet organization system) and a roll of thick vinyl shelf liner you have vague notions will line the inside of the drawer which you plan on turning upside down over the mass/mess of cords. You then use your hole punch and white ribbon to attach the tan liner to the inside of the white metal wire drawer.

The Results: a few mismeasurements and false starts later, you have a cover which has a conveniently large mesh top through which the husband can feed the cords on their way to various tech devices while at the same time has covered sides so that no cords or attractive blinking lights are visible unless one is directly on top of the device. Once all the cords are stowed away and those leaving on their way to powering the electronica are corralled with the help of a simple twist-tie, the baby shows absolutely no interest in the new addition. Success!!

All through the town

OY and VEY!!!

I thought I had adjusted fairly well to motherhood, finally. I was feeling more rested, more secure, less frazzled, less crazed....And then J began crawling. And then he really got in the groove. And I spent most of today running after him or running ahead of him, pulling cords out of his mouth, rescuing the husband's guitar from enthusiastic but certain destruction, sticking outlet covers on outlets he found by the minute, extricating him from underneath chairs and between the sofa and the wall, finding new places for trash cans he dumped onto the floor, comforting him after he pulled himself up on unstable furniture and inevitably fell down, sweeping up dead bugs he uncovered in the most unexpected places....And I had a vision of my life for the next foreseeable future and realized how very, very busy I'm going to be just keeping him from killing himself.

The upside is he apparently understands the word "no" or at least the tone of voice in which I said no when he was eating the computer cord or when he had a wrapper halfway down his throat. And he always responds to his name, or at least he did when I would walk into the room where I had just left him and he would have disappeared, only to reappear with a grin from behind or under something when I called for him. He's very cute when he crawls happily along and is in a very good mood about it, even as I am taking things away from him every 30 seconds.

SIGH!

Higher than an eagle

Rant time: When we moved here, I was distressed to learn that though we work for a hospital, our medical insurance left a little to be desired. Well, a lot, particularly after our fabulous insurance in Philadelphia (ahh, incredibly powerful unions!). Our insurance options were limited, and the only 100% option (a must for people like me with preexisting conditions) was expensive. Then it got more so. But we toughed it out because it was the lesser of many evils.

Then the hospital decided to discontinue this plan, leaving us to choose from the rest of the evils. So I've been investigating what we're left with and, can I just say, the results aren't pretty. First we have a 90%/10% HMO which costs the same as our original policy and has lower co-pays but higher deductibles and huge payments for both inpatient and outpatient procedures beyond the deductibles and you need referrals for everything beyond your PCP, which our last plan finally eliminated last year. Our second option has cheaper monthly payments but is a 80%/20% plan, much scarier, higher deductibles, and virtually no preventative medicine allowance, including, I kid you not, no coverage for annual OBGYN appointments, which is criminal, as far as I'm concerned. There is some sort of loophole, apparently, that may or may not mean that inpatient or outpatient procedures done at the hospital will waive the 20% we owe, but, surprise, surprise, it's not clear at all if this is actually the case, a gentleman's agreement not written down anywhere, or a myth.

And these are our two best options. I use the term best loosely. Why all these people here who work for a hospital have not rebelled against this shoddy coverage is beyond me, but SC has never been particularly progressive about, well, anything, so I guess it's easier to accept things as they are than agitate. But seriously, people, this is ridiculous! Rock, hard place, here I come.

I gotta think twice

We appear to be having some technical difficulties with the pictures in the web gallery. When you click on an album, it looks like all the pictures are blanks. HOwever, if you click on the individual seemingly blank boxes, individual pictures do indeed appear. You can't get an overview of the shots this way, but you can still see individual shots one at a time. We (and by we I mean the husband) are working to fix this situation, so stay tuned while we overcome our tech issues. In the meantime....

What became of the monk?

Let's talk about squirrels.

Let's talk about the kamikaze squirrels who hurl themselves at our windows, get stuck on the screens, hang there twitching for a while, and then hurtle to the ground.

Let's talk about the squirrels who may or may not be living in our attic. I'm choosing to label them squirrels because we've seen no internal evidence of mice or rats and that prospect is just too creepy to address, anyway (that's my Room 101, people. Deal with it.). They are either living in the attic or very active at night running across the roof. I can't tell, but I only hear them then, when I'm feeding the baby, so I can't run outside and check to see if they are scampering above the roof or (hopefully not) below it.

Let's talk about the squirrels who caper around in our hazardous pine tree. It was clearly once hit by lightening, so half of the branches are missing, and it's very likely going to fall to the ground at some point. But the squirrels love it. And they like to rain the pine cones down on our roof suddenly...and loudly.

Let's talk about the squirrels who, despite their many antics, move too quickly for J to see them, thereby making me look silly every time I shout "Look at the squirrel" and he turns to see...nothing. And wonder why his mommy is crazy.

It's been a good time together

It's been a hectic day. Do you know how long it takes to brown 10 pounds of hamburger? Longer than you'd think or at least longer than I thought. Two pans and four batches later, I was done with the greasy, vile mess. J slept through the whole thing, thankfully. He must be his father's son, so the smell of cooking meat is somehow soothing. He also slept while I chopped pounds of tomatoes and onions, which made me smell vaguely catlike, for some reason. Or I'm having a hormonal moment. Could be either!

Meanwhile, back on the ranch...

J is a napping fiend today. It helps when he wakes up at 5 am. It doesn't help me much but it helps him to be super sleepy! He's also learned how to pull himself up on the sides of his crib. I put him down for one nap and he didn't even whimper, but I heard suspicious rustling, so I went in to check on him, only to find him pulled up on his knees in the corner of the crib. He turned and laughed at me over his shoulder when he saw me, so he was quite proud of himself. So we moved his crib down to its lowest level last night. We're safe until he learns to stand, at which point he will be much taller than the crib sides and there's nothing we can do about it except hope that he doesn't hurt himself on the way down.

The oatmeal bars were a hit. I was forced to share the "recipe," but only after much coercion and only after I made them promise that knowing what went into the dish wouldn't make them unhappy.

The weather here has officially changed. It's cool and lovely and fabulous, and we're very happy to see the oppressive humidity go. J and I like waiting on the porch for the husband to come home in the evening, as long as the mosquitos stay away, which now can be for as long as a half an hour. Glorious!

Our neighbors across the street had a baby last week, Gracie, 8 pounds 11 ounces. They brought her over to see us and I can't believe J was ever that small. He feels like he's always been as big and boisterous as he is now, but of course once upon a very short time ago, he was just that small. I can barely imagine it, even just this far away.

Have a heart

The Lowcountry Heartwalk was yesterday, and we were all there with bells on. Make that athletic gear on. Even J was decked out in his velour Radio Flyer tracksuit, which I thought might be overkill and too warm but which turned out to be perfect, given the vaguely nasty turn the weather took. Very cool temperatures with spitting rain, great for us walkers but bad for babies in strollers.

We left the house at 7:30 am and went downtown for the opening ceremonies. There were lots of health-related booths giving out the usual trinkets, including the survivors' tent where this year they were giving out specific white stroke survivor hats for the first time. So I got one of those and some blueberry scones and some cinnamon rolls and shared with the husband, who could only get a banana or an apple, not having had a stroke, you see. The bandstand microphones were unnecessarily loud, and I was worried J wouldn't even get a hint of his morning nap, but we bundled him up under a blanket, and, by race start time, he had fallen asleep, loud noises notwithstanding. He stayed that way for a while, but even his exhaustion wasn't enough to overcome Charleston's ancient and therefore awful sidewalks. Thank goodness for safety straps or he would have been ejected from his seat several times!

The race route took us through downtown, around the Battery, and back again. It was a grey day, bad for tourists, perfect for a health walk. We finished in record time (for us), got out the parking garage almost as quickly, and went out for brunch (because there's nothing better to do after a walk for heart health than have an island potato casserole at the Charleston Cafe, now is there? (Umm, yes, that would be scrambled eggs, tomato cream sauce, turkey, and bacon on a bed of grilled peppers, mushrooms, and onions over "chippers," thinly sliced fried potatoes. Ahem.)

Then, later that afternoon, we bought a new stroller, because the husband got a blister using the one we have, which is just a TAD too short for him and, apparently, causes him bodily harm. And the new stroller just happens to be GREEN! Huzzah!

Like paper dolls

This is how it was:

The sinus infection was untouched by the antibiotic and was joined by an ear infection.

The baby has had a fever of 101 for almost 48 hours.

He hasn't slept for longer than an hour for every five of those.

Therefore, neither have I.

We both have red, bloodshot eyes.

When he has slept, it's been on or right beside me, heat emanating from his little body.

Otherwise, he wants to be held upright all the time. All. The. Time.

He's forgotten how to sleep, babble, gurgle, or laugh.

All he does right now is loll lethargically and whine pitifully.

The new antibiotic that's really going to work this time (or so they say) cost $70.

Over and out. Literally!! You name it, I'm out of it: time, energy, patience, ideas....sigh.

Thankfully, this is how it is now:

New incredibly expensive antibiotic is a miracle worker! The husband came home last night and made dinner and helped run interference with J. Then the baby slept last night, and so did I, and what a difference a few consecutive hours of sleep make. Hallelujah! Things are a lot less bleak, my friends, and how happy am I?!

Keep pushing me on

Big Rain Storm Hanna has come and gone, and we are none the worse for wear. There was a lot of rain and wind but not enough to even alarm me as much as some thunderstorms with hail have this past summer. In fact, when the rain was at its strongest, it really just produced comforting white noise in the background.

Indeed, our biggest challenge this week has continued to be J's sinus infection and its aftermath, which hasn't really lessened all that much despite heavy antibiotics. He is sleeping fitfully when he does go to sleep at night, even on drugs, and is out of sorts during the days with little substantive napping to speak of. He continues to be pathetically unable to breathe and has now developed an aversion to even the sight of his various medications, which turns delivering them into a wrestling match every six hours. Hopefully, this will all clear up sooner rather than later because we're all running on very little sleep at this point.

Sadly, we know of one side effect that will linger on, no matter what happens. J's inability to breathe has meant he's spent a lot of time sleeping upright in his swing or sitting upright in my lap, thereby completely undoing all our good sleep training. It couldn't be helped: he was simply suffocating while lying on his stomach, and he doesn't know how to stay on his back or side. But this means we will have to redo all our good work once he's better.

Sinus infections: the gift that keeps on giving!

Wop bam boom

So this trip just keeps getting better and better: two nights ago I ended up at the emergency room til 3am with what we thought was a gall bladder attack but ended up being an infection of some kind. Fluids and morphine later, I was home and exhausted. Then I caught the stomach virus that has been making its way around my house. We think it came from Peru and it's awful: nausea, vomiting, fever, etc. etc. etc. It comes on fast and has so far infected all but a few people living in the house. Last night I was so nauseous I had my younger sister take care of Jacob once I put him to bed so I could get some sleep. I took over at 1am but was really in no shape to be caring for anyone. I had a fever of 101 in the wee hours this morning and was hallucinating, always a pleasant experience, but babies have to be fed. The fever is down now, but my parents are both sick. So far, Jacob is fine, thank goodness, and I hope he stays that way, because if he gets sick now, that means he's going to be ill on the plane, poor baby. And no one wants that. Right now he's asleep in a bouncy chair (it's like old times) in just a diaper and a blanket, largely because I was too hot to even think about putting him back in a sleeper after he had a blow out this morning. But he seems fine and cozy, so I'm not worried.

What I am is sick and tired. Blech.

Lullaby and goodnight

Ah, sleepless nights. There is nothing quite like a baby who doesn't want to sleep in a house that's not your own. Jacob was up at 2am this morning and was inconsolable and loud. He finally fell asleep briefly on my bed after much rocking but then was up after just a few minutes and stayed awake til 4ish and then slept until 5:30, at which point I just gave up and we got up for the day. Now, at 8am he has just gone down for a (presumably much too short) nap. Sigh. Dr. Ferber, you and I have an appointment with this small fry just as soon as I get back! This cannot go on!

In addition, just in time to be surrounded by strangers, J has developed a case of stranger fright, right on schedule. I was hoping he would skip this phase, but no such luck. The day before yesterday I left to go run some errands with my dad and apparently he cried like he had been abandoned forever with my mother. Then, yesterday, he cried anytime I was out of his sight or he was being held by someone else even if I was still in sight and especially if I was holding some other baby. So the stranger danger sense is highly attenuated right now, sadly for him. I hope this phase passes quickly and doesn't apply to Liza, his nanny. Sigh once again.

Otherwise, things in the homeland are good. The babies get along fine, mainly because they have very little awareness of each other. They met their great aunt and uncle last night at dinner, though they were all pretty tired and went to bed very soon after said uncle arrived. The youngest baby has still not arrived and doesn't look like she is going to until she is induced on the 7th. So her mom-to-be Kelli is extremely uncomfortable and unhappy and just looks pathetic because she is so bereft. So our grandchild picture will be one short, but it can't be helped.

Must go shower while the wee one continues to sleep. The moments are fleeting at best!