You are currently browsing the monthly archive for June 2006.
Younger sibling as artistic subject. Or plaything.
Two years = two parties!
(But now we’re done. Until next year!)
It was raining at 4 this morning, when AM decided it was a fine time to get up and play. (Taxman took one for the team on that.)
It is supposed to rain all %@*^$#@ day.
Miss M’s school starts in September.
I need strength.
Update, 10 am: Rain stopped for now (really, why bother listening to the weather report?), but everything is drippy and humidity is about 1000%. Surely by the time I get everyone dressed to go out it would be raining again.
(No, I am not a Superman fan.)
It’s the sun. (Insert vague recollections here.)
Must process this turn of events.
I stand by my previous assertion and still think that we don’t, in fact, have thrush.
So imagine our freakout when I realized that Miss M had been pulling on her diaper frequently and being unusually fidgety during diaper changes. And she had a few little red spots on her behind that weren’t exactly diaper rash, but weren’t exactly fading away either. Was I wrong about the thrush? Were both AM and I asymptomatic but Miss M had a yeast infection? Oh dear.
So we trundled everyone into the van and scooted to the pediatrician. In case you were wondering (come on, I knew you were!), urine samples are collected from very little people using a sort of plastic bag contraption taped into their diapers. After suggesting she drink every 30 seconds during a side trip to a nearby park, 45 minutes later there were about four drops of urine in the bag. Enough, however, to determine that Miss M had neither a yeast infection nor a urinary tract infection.
Good to know, but poor Taxman. He has a looming work deadline and spent his morning with us, his face pinched with stress as he pushed Miss M in the tire swing and pointed out a duck family. We’re definitely getting a second car. (I’ll miss him on mornings such as this, though.)
Friday evening, as I was putting her into pajamas, she was thrashing around (nothing out of the ordinary–staying still isn’t exactly her forte) in my lap and her skull connected with my jaw. OUCH. I could feel the hit radiating up to my ears. OUCH. We were both pretty upset, until she was distracted by the bag of frozen mixed vegetables Taxman brought to soothe the pain. Then she demanded to trade for the bag of frozen corn that I was holding to my face, so we figured she was ok.
Toddlerhood is rough. On everybody.
And I had a throbbing sinus headache for a day and a half. I was almost ready to sell my soul for two Advil Cold and Sinus pills. Now that went away, but I think I have a cavity (or two). Sigh.
Serious eating requires a bib.
(Mom, the Gymboree outfit received no chocolate smears!)
My baby–my first baby–turned two today.
It’s eerily easy for me to remember what Miss M was like two years ago (give or take a couple of months) because Baby AM looks just like her.
Today AM did a lot of nursing, smiling, and sleeping in the arms of various family members.
Miss M, however, sang on her way to visit the family (“Twinkle, twinkle star…Wonder are”), blew out candles, opened presents, licked the chocolate icing off of her cupcake before studiously digging in, and released helium balloons (gleefully yelling out their colors) to the wilds of the Philadelphia suburbs.
Wow.
Happy birthday, my bubbly, beautiful baby girl.
Tonight I went jogging for the first time since Miss M:
a) was conceived.
b) was born.
c) was 12 months old.
The correct answer is a. The last time I had running shoes on for their intended purpose was at the 2003 NYC Race for the Cure (RftC). Then it was Rosh Hashana, then I found out I was pregnant. And being pregnant after infertility meant I was a nervous wreck for a while and chose yoga over jogging.
But I digress.
I felt like I really needed to get back to jogging. It’s good exercise. It’s an opportunity to do something by myself–half the time I don’t even shower without a little person. I wanted to train for the 2006 RftC because it’s a good cause and a reasonable distance (5K).
So after dithering for a while, I finally bought myself some new Nikes, put some music on the iPod*, and figured I could use the hour between six and seven in the morning for good. I was going to pump a bottle tonight for Taxman and go tomorrow morning, finally.
However, Taxman has an early meeting tomorrow. And, he pointed out, there would always be a reason not to go. He’s right. So I put Miss M to bed and went, leaving Baby AM to the devices of Taxman and his magic Hotsling.
It was so nice. Don’t get me wrong, the running part–probably only a mile and a half at most–kicked my ass. And will continue to do so tomorrow, when my quads kink up in revenge. But the weather was beautiful: the sun was setting, lots of nice fluffy clouds turning purple and pink, a moderate breeze.
I felt light. Physically and mentally. Physically, of course, because I didn’t have 12 pounds of boy strapped to me, and I wasn’t pushing 50 pounds of girl + stroller + assorted miscellaneous crap that come with girl + boy. Mentally because I was free to notice things for myself. I saw a beautiful Golden Retriever. The trees are coming into their summer lushness. I felt really happy. Even when I felt like my lungs were going to explode. (I’ll get over it.)
So I’m definitely doing the 2006 RftC. Goal is to break 34 minutes.
Anyone else? Moxie? Should we put together a blogging mommies team?
* The iPod was amazing. Made all the difference. Once or twice I tried to jog with a portable CD player. Not good. And without music I am constantly looking at my watch. Seriously not good!
The Department of Health and Human Services has apparently recently come to the conclusion that breast really is best. Really and truly.
I just have to know: if breastfeeding is the “gold standard,” shouldn’t it be treated that way?
Unfortunately, I can’t foresee the numbers improving a lot unless moms have the option to take a year off after giving birth (like our neighbors to the north and a lot of Europe) or unless HHS kicks some serious ass around the Department of Labor. On-site daycare: standard; nursing breaks: standard; pumping-friendly environments: standard. If it sounds like a pipe dream, it probably is.
It makes me sad to think that there are American babies without equal opportunity access to breastfeeding because their mothers don’t have the support at work or have the financial ability or desire to give up their jobs. Seriously, there are all kinds of people standing up for the rights of the unborn, what about the rights of the born (via their nutritional gold standard)?
Do I even have the right to comment on this? I have the luxury of nursing my babies on demand because Taxman makes enough to pay the bills. My electric pump is languishing in a closet because I haven’t used it in months and months. I live in a state where not only do I have the right to feed my babies anywhere, but they have the right to nurse wherever they are. (Seriously: you tell me to stop nursing, you’re violating my baby’s civil rights.)
Based on my readership, I think I’m preaching to the choir; just wanted you all to see the news.
Ok, quick quiz.
It’s Friday morning. It’s the first time since Tuesday afternoon it hasn’t been raining. Where do you spend your day?
a) The nearby park, which has a sand pit.
b) The far away park, which has the best toddler equipment.
c) The empty baseball field, which has a lot of grass for running and jumping.
d) Any of the above, but probably b, followed up by a trip to the pediatric ER of a large urban hospital to rule out a broken nose.
Um, yeah.
Is there any way I can avoid looking like a shitheel Ema here? I really, truly don’t think I could have stopped Miss M from running, tripping, and falling nose-first into a step.
But, on the other hand, this was the shirt she was wearing:
Yes, that says I DO ALL MY OWN STUNTS. Yes, we bought it for her. (In our defense, she is constantly running into the walls and things. Not because she’s clumsy, she just refuses to look where she is going!)
Thankfully, she doesn’t have a broken nose. Just looks like she smudged the bridge of her nose with an indigo magic marker. Sadly, it won’t wash off.
