I wish someone would have told me that having a child would entail things like giving them eye drops for pink eye. I had to wrap my Jimmy up in a blanket to hold try to keep his arms still, pin him down and then TRY to pry his eyes open enough to put a drop in each one. Just one more wrestling match with a toddler I guess. Thankfully now the drops are over and by the end, I have to say Jimmy was a trooper but boy am I leery if I see him rub his eyes!
The other big event of the week involved the diaper bag. I picked Jimmy up at his sitter's house, and before I put him in the car, I placed the bag on the roof of my truck since the ground was muddy and wet. I strapped Jimmy in, took off driving, la de da, and got on the highway without a care in the world. As I merged on, I saw something tumbling in the road and thought "Who would be throwing something out like that?!?" It was about three seconds later when I realized it was the diaper bag. At the same time, a car drove up on my left and motioned to me. I mouthed to them, "I know, I know, I just realized it was my diaper bag." Sigh. So I had to drive a half mile to do an illegal U-turn, people beeping at me the whole time. Sorry but I had to do it. Anyways, it just so happened that my bag fell in the road across from the next U-turn spot in the opposite direction. Wasn't the bag smack in the middle of the two lanes! I crossed my fingers that the bag itself hadn't been run over. I had suntan lotion (don't ask), baby powder and a couple other things that would have been a mess. His shoes, socks, one mitten and a notebook containing notes from sessions with a teacher were strewn across the highway. Well, albeit it was dangerous, I had to get the stuff. I first ran out and got the bag itself. It hadn't been run over and most everything was still inside. Next one shoe, then the other, then one sock, then the next, and the mitten blew towards me due to the motion of the trucks and cars driving by. I recovered one diaper (figured I shouldn't litter), and lastly I got the notebook which was pretty much a casualty but I felt I had to get it. I guess I was lucky that there were enough gaps in traffic that I could rescue everything. If I had driven all the way home, I'd probably forget it, but since I saw it happen and knew where it was, I had to go back. They were brand new shoes!
Lastly, Jimmy has taken to getting up at "the butt crack of dawn" as my sister says. He's been getting up at 4, 4:30. Let's just say it's TOO EARLY. I wish he would just crawl into bed and doze off with me, but he gets into bed, lays down on top of me, shoves his face into mine, babbles, sometimes does he recitation of the alphabet or numbers. He sometimes says "Barney" or "Elmo." Sigh. Can't sleep through that. I'd keep him up later at night, but I'm usually so tired that I WANT him to go to bed at his normal time (about 8 o'clock most nights). Maybe this year, I'll actually appreciate day light savings time, since he'll be up at 5:30 instead of 4:30, but in the end it'll backfire because if I put him to bed at 8 o'clock, he'll think it's only 7 o'clock. No rest for the wicked I guess.
Wednesday, March 23, 2005
Thursday, February 03, 2005
"Mo Pees"
"Mo Pees" - this was the phrase from my son's mouth when he wanted more milk. We're struggling to get him to talk, and, at the same time, teach the simple things like, "When you want something, you say 'please.'" And despite a lot of effort I don't get any words at all, just a typical toddler "eh, eh" along with virulant body movement--refusal to vocalize much at all, but the other day I was surprised.
Jimmy was eating dinner and his milk glass was empty. I had been asking him, "Do you want more?" Jimmy can say and sign "more" but these days I got the "eh, eh" routine. But this time he distinctly said "Mo pees"--MORE PLEASE! YES! And he did it without my prompting! The small things like this really matter!
Jimmy was eating dinner and his milk glass was empty. I had been asking him, "Do you want more?" Jimmy can say and sign "more" but these days I got the "eh, eh" routine. But this time he distinctly said "Mo pees"--MORE PLEASE! YES! And he did it without my prompting! The small things like this really matter!
Tuesday, February 01, 2005
I'm Not Alone!
Only a brief blog today. In reading my email, I saw an article in my periodic e-newsletter from BabyZone about parenting and blogs:
Have Kids Will Blog
By Meredith O'Brien
http://www.babyzone.com/features/content/display.asp?contentid=1689
So, of course I'm not the only one blogging about parenthood....
I also have a "baby book" on BabyZone with a lot of Jimmy pictures (of course nothing too recent):
http://www.babyzone.com/features/babybooks/Book.asp?BookID=265646
As ever, it seems impossible to keep up with some details but I try. Time to get back to the trenches.
Have Kids Will Blog
By Meredith O'Brien
http://www.babyzone.com/features/content/display.asp?contentid=1689
So, of course I'm not the only one blogging about parenthood....
I also have a "baby book" on BabyZone with a lot of Jimmy pictures (of course nothing too recent):
http://www.babyzone.com/features/babybooks/Book.asp?BookID=265646
As ever, it seems impossible to keep up with some details but I try. Time to get back to the trenches.
Monday, January 31, 2005
Three Months is a Long Time...
I didn't realize how long it had been since I added anything to this so-called "BLOG"... I guess so much has happened since September that for awhile I didn't think I'd ever write anything else (or have an original thought left in my head for that matter).
So what's happened since September?
Probably the biggest thing to take up the last three plus months: Bought a house. Yep. Bought a house, nice one, too. Life is simply sooo much better! I could write a lot on this but onward. Three months of catching up.
Before we bought the house, we had some real fun--broken bone #1. This particular night (goodness I've even forgotten when it was), Jimmy crawled out of the crib yet again, but this time there was a resounding BOOMMM, and I must say I didn't hesitate to find out what happened. Anyways, I found him on the floor in a soundless cry that concerned me but at the time I thought it was merely because he was scared. I brought him to bed with me and he cried, I gave him some Tylenol because I thought he might be sore and he dozed off for awhile. After a couple hours he woke up and cried again (he was in bed with me). After more coddling, he fell back asleep and when we did our morning routine, he definitely wasn't himself and at day care, Gail, his provider, had a hard time consoling him. The next day he was still a bit cranky but otherwise himself.
Finally, by Friday as I was dressing him and lifting his arm over his head, he screamed as if in pain. In that moment I realized that he was hurt and I felt like the worst mother in the world. I felt ever so awful, since when I was about 9 years old I broke my collarbone, so I could in a sense relate.
But I called the doctor's office, got him x-rayed (what an experience THAT was) and sure enough...broken collarbone and frankly there is nothing you can do about a broken collar bone when a child is that young. After I knew, I more carefully dressed him, changed the way I picked him up and he learned to not use his hurt side as much, and I left the gate down on his crib.
As I said, we moved into a nice new house and right about that time, we quickly learned that we needed much more serious baby proofing. This new house has a finished basement and underneath the stairs there is some metal sheeting to protect the stairs. Anyways, you can't sneak up or down these stairs whatsoever. I had meant to buy the door knob thingys to prevent Jimmy from opening the cellar door, but put it off.
Then, in one of those sickening moments, Jimmy fell down those cellar stairs. I didn't see it happen but rather heard it. His father was standing at the top of the stairs as it happened. We had placed a box in front of the cellar door, thinking that it would stop him from opening the door. Boy were we stupid! In an instant, my husband screamed, "Oh MY GOD!" Then Boom, BOOM, BOOOOMM--it was the noise that the metal sheeting made as he tumbled down. At the bottom of the stairs he laid there. He seemed a bit out of breath, so he cried rather feebily and I could tell he was very scared. Luckily, the only injury was a scratch on his leg. Honestly, less than two hours later he was standing on the back of the couch and was his "old" self.... Sigh...
The lastest incident was yesterday. It was a nice flip over an office chair. But he was farting around as ever not moments later but notheless it was scary. It was the "cusp of the moment" when you didn't know if you'd be consoling your child or burying them with a broken neck. Someday I'll tell you about the incidents at his cousin's birthday party. Sigh... More white hairs and anxiety to keep me awake.
What happens when he turns three?
So what's happened since September?
Probably the biggest thing to take up the last three plus months: Bought a house. Yep. Bought a house, nice one, too. Life is simply sooo much better! I could write a lot on this but onward. Three months of catching up.
Before we bought the house, we had some real fun--broken bone #1. This particular night (goodness I've even forgotten when it was), Jimmy crawled out of the crib yet again, but this time there was a resounding BOOMMM, and I must say I didn't hesitate to find out what happened. Anyways, I found him on the floor in a soundless cry that concerned me but at the time I thought it was merely because he was scared. I brought him to bed with me and he cried, I gave him some Tylenol because I thought he might be sore and he dozed off for awhile. After a couple hours he woke up and cried again (he was in bed with me). After more coddling, he fell back asleep and when we did our morning routine, he definitely wasn't himself and at day care, Gail, his provider, had a hard time consoling him. The next day he was still a bit cranky but otherwise himself.
Finally, by Friday as I was dressing him and lifting his arm over his head, he screamed as if in pain. In that moment I realized that he was hurt and I felt like the worst mother in the world. I felt ever so awful, since when I was about 9 years old I broke my collarbone, so I could in a sense relate.
But I called the doctor's office, got him x-rayed (what an experience THAT was) and sure enough...broken collarbone and frankly there is nothing you can do about a broken collar bone when a child is that young. After I knew, I more carefully dressed him, changed the way I picked him up and he learned to not use his hurt side as much, and I left the gate down on his crib.
As I said, we moved into a nice new house and right about that time, we quickly learned that we needed much more serious baby proofing. This new house has a finished basement and underneath the stairs there is some metal sheeting to protect the stairs. Anyways, you can't sneak up or down these stairs whatsoever. I had meant to buy the door knob thingys to prevent Jimmy from opening the cellar door, but put it off.
Then, in one of those sickening moments, Jimmy fell down those cellar stairs. I didn't see it happen but rather heard it. His father was standing at the top of the stairs as it happened. We had placed a box in front of the cellar door, thinking that it would stop him from opening the door. Boy were we stupid! In an instant, my husband screamed, "Oh MY GOD!" Then Boom, BOOM, BOOOOMM--it was the noise that the metal sheeting made as he tumbled down. At the bottom of the stairs he laid there. He seemed a bit out of breath, so he cried rather feebily and I could tell he was very scared. Luckily, the only injury was a scratch on his leg. Honestly, less than two hours later he was standing on the back of the couch and was his "old" self.... Sigh...
The lastest incident was yesterday. It was a nice flip over an office chair. But he was farting around as ever not moments later but notheless it was scary. It was the "cusp of the moment" when you didn't know if you'd be consoling your child or burying them with a broken neck. Someday I'll tell you about the incidents at his cousin's birthday party. Sigh... More white hairs and anxiety to keep me awake.
What happens when he turns three?
X-Files, Animal Planet, and Epidurals: My Birth Story
Being a first-time mom, I could only guess at what was ahead of me when I went into labor. Since my due date was December 9th, I repeatedly kept telling people, “I’ll work until at least Thanksgiving.” However, Thanksgiving morning at 3 am, I began to see the first signs of labor. All kinds of thoughts were going through my head. Seems I had been having little contractions for some time, but I simply dismissed them as some minor discomfort, being nine months pregnant and all. As time went on-—the longest 3 hours of my life-—I realized that I was now in labor since they were starting to get more intense yet still sporadic.
I finally woke up my husband and wondered if I should go to my mom’s for Thanksgiving dinner. I decided to go. The contractions continued throughout the day, random and erratic as they were in the early hours of the morning—they’d be five minutes apart, then a half an hour apart. It wasn’t until well into the night, after watching The Matrix, that my husband and I determined that the contractions were getting steadier and closer together. After a quick call to my doctor, off to the hospital we went.
While I should have been relaxed I was not. My husband’s driving makes me nervous, so I had to deal with that too. Finally we arrived and first there was a wait for paperwork, which irritated me to no end since I filled out a whole s***load of paperwork well ahead of time and they seemed to think no such paperwork existed.
Then we went to the maternity ward and waited and waited. I tried to sit through a contraction while sitting in a rocking chair, something I saw in the childbirth class. Not a pleasant way to sit through a contraction if you ask me! Finally, we get into a room, get undressed and examined and I’m only 1 cm dilated. I was amazed. All that work and only 1 cm? Then, they say when you’re 3 cm we’ll admit you (in other words no drugs for awhile). That was not fun at all.
Finally they said they’d admit me, but because I was an older patient, I would need to be strapped to a monitor, and I wouldn’t be able to walk around or move. Before that happened, they allowed me to take a shower where my husband hosed me down with nice, hot water. This was another thing I saw in the childbirth class, and it was definitely a more pleasant way to deal with contractions. I later found out that I had pressed my forehead into the tiled shower wall so hard during contractions that I had a sore spot the next day. Still it was the best half hour of the whole experience so far.
Then I had to pick a drug, don’t ask me which one they gave me, all I know is that it was a “narcotic” and that my husband and I sat through most of an X-Files marathon after they gave it to me. At some point we both fell asleep. Then, I must have heard something in my sleep from the X-Files, and felt a contraction. I thought to myself, “A contraction in the X-Files?” It was then I realized the narcotic was wearing off. The nurse who attended me then told me that they could only give me one more dose of this particular drug during the duration of my labor. The next option would be an epidural, and they explained all the risks, but I said go for it. My husband seemed to think I didn’t need it, and wanted to smack him.
They gave me the epidural and by that time it was morning and the X-Files marathon was over. I then turned the TV to some series of funny animal videos showcased on the Animal Planet cable channel. Periodically, they’d move my legs; the sensation, or lack of it, was weird.
Finally I saw my doctor, and as she checked me my water broke—what a mess! Then there was a spell where the contractions slowed down, so they gave me something to speed them up again. Next, what seems like in the blink of an eye, I was getting that urge to bear down despite the epidural. Although I experienced 15 hours of hard labor, it seems that it wasn’t a very long period of time as I’m relating it.
Someone told me to push…”Push like you’re having a bowel movement.” So I pushed. “No, that was a bowel movement.” What’d they expect?!? Anyways, after some pushing, not very long, they give me a episiotomy, at which I yelped, “Ouch!” One nurse turned to look at me very strangely, like I wasn’t supposed to feel it. Yeah, right.
The nurse who had been tending me all night, said to me chirpily, “Can you tell I eased back on the epidural?!?” Yeah, honey, I can tell. But soon after that I didn’t care, because my baby came out and that warm slimy creature was on my chest but a moment. I touched him, and I murmured, “My baby,” and he was whisked away to be checked over, given his Apgar and all that stuff. But in that instant the X-Files, Animal Planet and the epidural were very quickly forgotten. Jimmy had arrived and nothing else mattered.
I finally woke up my husband and wondered if I should go to my mom’s for Thanksgiving dinner. I decided to go. The contractions continued throughout the day, random and erratic as they were in the early hours of the morning—they’d be five minutes apart, then a half an hour apart. It wasn’t until well into the night, after watching The Matrix, that my husband and I determined that the contractions were getting steadier and closer together. After a quick call to my doctor, off to the hospital we went.
While I should have been relaxed I was not. My husband’s driving makes me nervous, so I had to deal with that too. Finally we arrived and first there was a wait for paperwork, which irritated me to no end since I filled out a whole s***load of paperwork well ahead of time and they seemed to think no such paperwork existed.
Then we went to the maternity ward and waited and waited. I tried to sit through a contraction while sitting in a rocking chair, something I saw in the childbirth class. Not a pleasant way to sit through a contraction if you ask me! Finally, we get into a room, get undressed and examined and I’m only 1 cm dilated. I was amazed. All that work and only 1 cm? Then, they say when you’re 3 cm we’ll admit you (in other words no drugs for awhile). That was not fun at all.
Finally they said they’d admit me, but because I was an older patient, I would need to be strapped to a monitor, and I wouldn’t be able to walk around or move. Before that happened, they allowed me to take a shower where my husband hosed me down with nice, hot water. This was another thing I saw in the childbirth class, and it was definitely a more pleasant way to deal with contractions. I later found out that I had pressed my forehead into the tiled shower wall so hard during contractions that I had a sore spot the next day. Still it was the best half hour of the whole experience so far.
Then I had to pick a drug, don’t ask me which one they gave me, all I know is that it was a “narcotic” and that my husband and I sat through most of an X-Files marathon after they gave it to me. At some point we both fell asleep. Then, I must have heard something in my sleep from the X-Files, and felt a contraction. I thought to myself, “A contraction in the X-Files?” It was then I realized the narcotic was wearing off. The nurse who attended me then told me that they could only give me one more dose of this particular drug during the duration of my labor. The next option would be an epidural, and they explained all the risks, but I said go for it. My husband seemed to think I didn’t need it, and wanted to smack him.
They gave me the epidural and by that time it was morning and the X-Files marathon was over. I then turned the TV to some series of funny animal videos showcased on the Animal Planet cable channel. Periodically, they’d move my legs; the sensation, or lack of it, was weird.
Finally I saw my doctor, and as she checked me my water broke—what a mess! Then there was a spell where the contractions slowed down, so they gave me something to speed them up again. Next, what seems like in the blink of an eye, I was getting that urge to bear down despite the epidural. Although I experienced 15 hours of hard labor, it seems that it wasn’t a very long period of time as I’m relating it.
Someone told me to push…”Push like you’re having a bowel movement.” So I pushed. “No, that was a bowel movement.” What’d they expect?!? Anyways, after some pushing, not very long, they give me a episiotomy, at which I yelped, “Ouch!” One nurse turned to look at me very strangely, like I wasn’t supposed to feel it. Yeah, right.
The nurse who had been tending me all night, said to me chirpily, “Can you tell I eased back on the epidural?!?” Yeah, honey, I can tell. But soon after that I didn’t care, because my baby came out and that warm slimy creature was on my chest but a moment. I touched him, and I murmured, “My baby,” and he was whisked away to be checked over, given his Apgar and all that stuff. But in that instant the X-Files, Animal Planet and the epidural were very quickly forgotten. Jimmy had arrived and nothing else mattered.
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