Happy 1/2 Birthday, Luker Man!

Luke is six months old today. I wished him a happy half birthday this morning, and he responded by blowing air out of both ends. :)

He has developed quite a personality in the last six months. Much like his sister, he knows what he wants and he wants it now, but he communicates very differently. When he wants to play with one of his toys, he turns his entire body towards it and focuses completely on it. When I got to Grandmother's house last night and asked him if he wanted to nurse, he responded by grabbing my face in both hands and kissing me straight on the mouth. When he sees his bottle or food of interest, he stares at it and squeals. When he wants you to hold him, he lifts his arms to you. When he heard me tell Dave about his bubble-blowing this morning, he started blowing bubbles again. He communicates very well already. It's making me forget to sign for him.

He's finally mastered rolling from his back to his stomach, so now he can roll all around the floor while he's playing. Last night I saw him rolling around the play mat and getting up on his hands and knees while Dave was playing with him. He does grab things and put them in his mouth, but that's about all he does with his hands right now. He definitely seems more focused on using his gross motor skills than his fine motor skills. I keep waiting for him to try to wave or clap, like Ella did at this age, but he doesn't seem interested in that stuff at all right now. The child wants to move, and he wants to do it by himself.

I really don't think it will be long before he starts crawling, and once again, life as we know it will cease to exist. I have a feeling that the general chaos of my household will be cranked up one more notch. It should be fun!

We've got ears, say cheers!

Ella is studying the letter S at school this week. Today they were supposed to dress up as their favorite superhero or superstar. We went with the superstar, Minnie Mouse. (If you don't think Minnie Mouse is a superstar, you obviously don't have a 2 year old.)

She was totally excited about her Mouseka-dress, Mouseka-ears, and Mouseka-nose, but she made me wipe that off after the picture. She would gladly have taken her Mouseka-dog, Georgia Pluto, to school with her, but we didn't have time to paint her yellow this morning.

Luke, huge Mickey the Mouse fan that he is, was jealous that he didn't have any Mouseka-ears, but we told him he'll just have to settle for being the Mouseka-brother for now.

I've watched too much Mickey Mouse Clubhouse. I'm relating everything to it.

Quotable Ella

"I did it, Mama." - In her sweet, sleepy voice, about waking up and using the potty in the middle of the night. A new annoying, but wonderful, trend that started over the weekend.

"I talk too much." - In the middle of a phone conversation with an imaginary friend, which, coincidentally, resulted in a voice mail for me at work.

"I'm think I'm going to have a bad day about it." - The standard response now to things she doesn't like or that make her uncomfortable (like giving away her Valentines).

"I expect I'm going to Grandma's house tonight." - An interjection into a conversation I was having with Dave, during which I used the words, "I expect..."

"... Georgia, because she poots..." - In the middle of her bedtime prayer list.

"I can't talk right now. I'm sick. I have reflux." - Also during a phone conversation with an imaginary friend.

These are just things she's said recently that made me smile or laugh. I'm preserving them for posterity. They don't even include all the amusing things she says to other people who aren't accustomed to her very detailed and somewhat accurate accounts of the babies growing in her tummy, being born at the hospital, the resulting bo-bo, etc. She's also recounting my hospital experiences for everyone (The poor preschool parents are probably answering questions about childbirth and c-section scars.), and telling many people that she is having a baby sister. This has led to quite a bit of speculation as to the state of my uterus.

Let me set the record straight, I am not pregnant. But, my sister is! We are completely excited, and I believe this has started Ella's fascination with babies all over again. She already seems to love that baby, just like she loved Luke when I was pregnant last year. She made it a Valentine (her idea), we pray for it at bed time (her idea), she thinks it's "a sister" (read: girl). I really wonder if she's right...

Randomness

It's been an exhausting week and my brain is tired. These are a few tidbits that got me through it.

Wednesday night as we were leaving church, it was snowing. Hard. I nearly walked over Ella as she came to an abrupt halt just outside the door to exclaim, "SNO-O-OW!" She asked what it was and I explained that if it rains when it's really cold outside it turns to snow. She said, "Snowdrops EVERYWHERE!" She was fascinated. Then she was scared, paralyzed in the middle of the parking lot, saying in her deep voice, "I'm afraid. I'm afraid." I had to go back and get her. She wasn't afraid when we got home and Daddy taught her to throw snow balls. And she wasn't afraid yesterday when she played in it until Papa bodily brought her back inside, with her own small bucket of snow. She's keeping it in the freezer so it won't melt.

She loves the name game song and requests that we sing everyone's name she can think of, all the time. As usually happens, she started singing it herself once she finally learned the words: "Doggy doggy bo boggy, fee fi fo DOGGY!" Sometimes she does names, too.

Early Thursday morning she woke up because she was cold and I went to her room to snuggle her. As I was about to remind her to lay down and be still, she leaned right over my face and gave me a giant kiss. Then went back to sleep.

That same morning, I went back to my own bed to find Luke and Dave awake and chatting. Luke had been squealing and grabbing his face. I told Dave they could play while I finished sleeping, but Luke was having none of it. He turned right over and grabbed at the back of my shirt until I tucked him in with me.

Luke has recommenced blowing spit bubbles in the last two days. I guess he remembered that he can do it. I love it.

He's so big now, that I started putting him in the baby bed in Ella's room (his room, too, now, I guess) for the first part of the night. He slept four hours in there last night before I brought him to our bed at the first wake up. I'd say that transition is going well. A little sad for me, but at least he's fine with it.

Weirdly, or not, I don't know, they seem to need to be in each other's presence to go to sleep at night. If he's still rowdy during story time, I give him to Dave while I read to Ella, then he brings him back when he gets fussy. She's usually resisting, squirming, talking, hiding under the covers, but almost immediately after we settle into her bed "each together," they are both sound asleep. My plan of sleeping them together one of these days just might work.

I cleared my camera memory again, so here are a few pictures.

At the park:

 Luke learned to swing.

 Ella taught her baby how to slide.

Break Time!

Ella and Luke received their first Valentine of the year in the mail last night from the Foley Grands.

Ella took care of organizing it for us.

My favorite boys. 



Who wouldn't kiss this face?

This sweet child has started grabbing my face in both fists and pulling it to him for big, open-mouthed, baby kisses. It's slobbery and perfect. Then he sits on my leg and poots machine-gun style and laughs about it. He's such a boy.

I am wonderfully blessed!

The Gift that Keeps on Giving

No, I'm not talking about the separate phone line I asked for as a teenager in my father's house, at which I'm pretty sure he laughed when he told me that was the gift that keeps on giving.

I'm talking about the "Mansion in Minutes" we gave Ella for Christmas. It's a dollhouse kit that Dave gave me for our first Christmas at our first house. Seven years ago. I had expressed interest in it while shopping at Hobby Lobby and it appeared under our Christmas tree. I enthusiastically set to work on it. Then I got to the part where the pieces didn't fit together quite right and the instructions became more commentary than instructive. I'm quite convinced that the author is a master carpenter who found amusement in teasing amateurs like myself.

Progress halted. For years. We moved a partially built dollhouse twice and nearly got rid of it once. Dave couldn't resist ragging me about my unfinished project. What was the big deal? It was a Mansion in Minutes. Until he sat down to help me with it one day and realized just what a ridiculous pain in the behind it was. Tiny pieces had to be measured and cut and glued and taped to hold the glue and then they still didn't fit quite right. The only way that thing could have been built in minutes would be in a fully equipped carpenter's workshop, by a carpentar. Or my dad. Maybe. Though I think even he might have lost it and cheated a little.

In seven years time there was a lot of discussion about what I would do with it if I ever finished it. Luckily, I had a daughter so it was easy to decide I would give it to her. If I finished it. Just before I went back to work from maternity leave, I remembered that I was going to give it to her for Christmas and it was still a long way from finished. We devoted hours, and even considered contracting out the rest of the work, to complete it before Christmas.

When it was done, I had to furnish it. This was the part I had been looking forward to for years. I did some research and decided that dollhouse furniture is just too expensive to give a 2.5 year old. So, because I am a masochist, I ordered a 3-D puzzle that would be 45 pieces of furntiure (for $12!), which I also had to put together and paint. Maybe I'll upgrade the furniture for her one day.

Finally, the house was wallpapered, floored, and furnished. I bought Polly Pockets and a knock-off GI Joe to serve as the family. She loves it. I'm glad she loves it. I'm even more glad I can finally mark that off my to-do list. In this case, I think it's safe to measure time as they do in the book of Daniel, because "minutes" definitely translated into years.

You can see from this picture that I have a resourceful child. She thought nothing of using the dresser and the wardrobe as extra beds for her dolls. Oh, and the whole family generally sleeps in one room "each together." I wonder where she learned that?

The monkey thought it was cold outside?

I remember the days when playing in the yard was a song-worthy occasion. My sister and I seemed to have theme songs for all sorts of activities, songs that we learned and songs that we made up. Truthfully, I still do, but I try to limit them to the world inside my head. Not everyone wants to hear my rendition of I Wear My Sunglasses at Night or It's Amazing What Praising Can Do or Great Big Poop.

Apparently, playing on the slide in the front yard needs the accompaniment of a little voice singing Pop Goes the Weasel. It goes like this:

"All around the mulderry bush the monkey chased the weasel. The monkey thought it was cold outside, POP goes the weasel!"

The "POP" punctuates the leap from the slide. Yes, leap. When I tried to sing it with her, I was told, "NO! You don't sing it!" Alrighty then.

After a nasty week of fever and snot, we had a great weekend of outdoor play. Saturday, we loaded up the parade float and walked to the park for a picnic and the playground. EGR took a couple of babies with her and taught them how to slide and swing. Luke had carrots at the picnic, then he got to feel the dirt on his feet for the first time and swing in the baby swing. He loved all of it. When I sat down to nurse him at the playground, Ella took a break to nurse her babies, too.

Aside from a couple of short breaks on the stroller, Ella ran/walked the entire two-ish miles to the park and back. I thought that might lead to an earlier bed time. It did. For Dave, not Ella.

Luker is one step closer to getting around all by himself. He's perfected his technique of slipping out of laps and onto the floor where he can have a better view of Ella's business. I've nearly dropped him a few times when he decided he was tired of sitting and needed to get busy. He's starting to imitate us now, too. When he's upset or "neeeds" me, he says "Mama Mama Mama." I don't know if it counts as the first word, but the noise certainly sounds like the word. He also says, "heeeey" and he completely copied Grandmother the other day when she exclaimed "Oh!" about his diaper situation. He loves having his feet sniffed, kissed, and pat-a-caked. He loves being naked. He HATES HATES HATES having his nose wiped. The first time he rolls from back to stomach will be because he's trying to get away from me cleaning his nose. I know this already.

School is in Session

Since starting preschool, EGR has revealed to me exactly how nerdy I have always been. She plays school now - hard-core, in the zone, teaching her "babies" using the exact routine they use at her school. The only difference between her school-playing and mine is that she doesn't understand the concept of homework yet, so she fails to leave the "friends" with assignments when she leaves the house each morning. Oh, and she doesn't have a chalkboard mounted on the wall. Yet.

I guess preschool is a little early for chalkboards and homework. I'm sure those things will come in due time.

What does the school day look like? She starts the morning by waiting at the door for the friends to arrive and placing their backpacks outside in a neat row. Once they have all arrived, they play with toys, then sit at the table to paint a picture. After that, they might line up for music practice or sit in a group to practice saying the pledge. Sometimes, while they are in the group, they also sing a song or read a book. Then, it's lunch time, so back to the table. After lunch, nap. Their artwork goes out into the hall with their backpacks and they sleep until thier mommies and daddies pick them up from school. I've documented it with pictures.

Backpacks and artwork.

 Lined up for music practice.

 Nap time; sometimes the friends have to sleep "each together" and share a blanket.

 Ready for lunch.

 Saying the pledges - to the flag and the Bible. She knows both of them.

Thankfully, my husband was raised in a Baptist church so he can give her the lines of the plege to the Bible if she forgets them. I'll have to get her to teach me, because I never learned it.

In case we didn't know it already, she's officially my daughter.

Luker Super Pooper

In what I deem an amazing feat of physics this morning, Luke managed to get more poop on his t-shirt than in his diaper. The smear of poop on my own t-shirt alerted me to the situation. It was impossible to get him out of his clothes without getting poop all over him. That's how bad it was. Bad enough that I left him butt naked on my bed, built-in sprinkler system uncovered, to fill up the tub. Bad enough that I'll probably just chunk that onesie. Bad enough that when Dave came to kiss us goodbye, I held my hands in the air as if waiting for a pair of surgical gloves so as not to mar his bright white shirt. He told me, "You're a good mother." Umm-hmm, don't I know it. He's just glad it wasn't him that picked that kid up out of the high chair, unaware of the secret mess he'd made. Lesson learned: Leave Luke in bed to make his morning poop. At least if it's not bouncing off the seat of the high chair it has a better chance of staying in the diaper.

Luke thought the whole thing was hilarious until I took advantage of the situation and used the warm washcloth to clean out his crusty nose. He did not like that at all. Ella also thought it was funny when I told her about it. She's been calling him Luker Super Pooper for a while. Now I know why.

Having Babies in Holes

Dave and I conduct our marriage as a partnership, running our household as a team, making decisions together, etc. He generally has more influence over the financial decisions because that stuff interests him, and I generally have more influence over the parental decisions because it interests me. We still discuss and give our opinions, but the more knowledgable person usually gets a weighted score in the final tally. We jokingly tell people that ours is a 51% -49% partnership, but the person with the majority vote changes with the subject. Given my sweet husband's inherent love for arguing, this is a good formula for us to follow. It cuts out the crap when I've done hours of research and he needs to tell me that so-and-so at the courthouse says we should switch the baby to soy formula to remedy his gas. Right. Maybe, if the baby were drinking formula. Thanks, so-and-so.

Thus, last night, as we watched Luke repeatedly attempt to steal food from our plates at the supper table and get increasingly mad when we stopped him, we had such a discussion about the introduction of solid food. The child is obviously ready to eat, but he's only 5 months old. Though I had previously decided we would wait until 6 months to introduce solid food, I was struggling with the rightness of that decision in the face of a very interested baby. Seeing my struggle, Dave started asking me questions. Questions about what the research says, what the AAP says, what our pediatrician says, what the mothers who start solids at 4 months would say, about allergies, and so forth. I spouted off all I have learned about the subject, all while fending off little hands. Then he asked me the clarifying question, understanding me as he does: "What would those mothers who dig a hole to have their babies do?"

Me: "They'd watch their babies and feed them when they started acting interested in food. Oh. They wouldn't have books and AAP recommendations to tell them when to feed the baby, they'd just pay attention to his cues."

So, he ate canned peaches last night because that's all I had in the house suitable as a first food. He loved them. He also drank about an ounce of water from his cup, which he has quickly learned how to use. He'd gladly have eaten my spaghetti, but I will adhere to a slow introduction of the least allergenic foods even if I started a few weeks early. I went out at lunch today and bought carrots, squash, pears, prunes, sweet potatoes, beef, chicken, and turkey. In no time at all, he'll be eating straight from the table, just like his sister.

You Know You're a Mama When...

… you realize the weird bulge in the back pocket of your jeans is a pair of size 2T Sponge Bob panties. And you’re just thankful they are clean.

… your other pockets are crammed full of pony tail holders, infant socks, Mylicon drops, and acorns.

… you open your laptop bag at work to find a string of purple Mardi Gras beads.

… the thing you move by yourself to your new desk, because it’s too valuable to pack for the movers, is a cork board covered with snapshots and construction paper animals with wonky, sticker eyes.

… you can do anything with a baby in one arm.

… you realize that clicking noise coming from the bottom of your sock is just a smattering of stick-on earrings you picked up on your way through the living room.

… Llama Llama’s tears make you want to cry when he misses Mama. (Llama Llama Misses Mama, by Anna Dewdney – I LOVE her books.)

… at any given time, you pretend to be a cat, a hair dresser, a dog groomer, or a dentist to make the daily routine more interesting (read: easier).

… you fold five loads of laundry and you can’t figure out what you wore last week.

… you know exactly what it means when your 2 year old wants to listen to “Chuck’s song”.

… you realize you’ve put your underpants on inside out because you were dressing in the dark so as not to wake the kids. You know you are a sleep deprived Mama because you didn't make this realization until lunch and you decide not to waste the energy to turn them right side out.

Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep

I've been saying the Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep prayer at bedtime with Ella for a long time. We started adding other prayers to the end of it last year when Grandmother's little dog, Sissy, had to have multi-mastectomy surgery and Ella was very worried about her. Some nights we barely make it through Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep, and some nights she has a long list of people and animals for which she wants me to pray. Any time she is worried about something or doesn't feel well, I pray about it for her.

She recently started saying Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep with me. I say it and she repeats it, just like my parents did with me. Tonight, for the first time, she decided to say her own prayer all by herself. It went like this.

"Dear God" (Sideways look at me to see if she was doing it right. I answered with a nod.) "thank you for ...me." (Another glance at me for affirmation.) "Thank you making me feel better. God bless everyone. Amen."

I won't lie; I teared up about it.

The H. Luke Update
H. Luke is on the move. He rolls over as soon as we lay him down, and he inchworm scoots around the floor to get to his toys. He's been getting up on his knees, too. He also moves the walker all around Grandmother's dining room. All in all, he's been way too busy to nap during the day and he cannot nurse in a room full of people and noise right now because he might miss something. And he's growing. I hear they do that when you feed them, and feed him I have. He nursed around the clock over the weekend and I swear he woke up heavier and longer the next day. And he left me hungrier. I could not get enough to eat for two days.  Now he's just busy learning how to be mobile.

Which is more obvious?

Scenario 1
A mother sits in a booth at a restaurant. Her baby is crying, but she cuddles him in her arms to quiet him while her preschooler sits beside her, chatting with her and the infant. The waitress greets them and takes their drink order.

Scenario 2
A mother sits in a booth at a restaurant. Her baby is crying, but she cuddles him in her arms to quiet him while her preschooler sits beside her, chatting with her and the infant. The waitress greets them and takes their drink order while making a large production of unrolling a set of silverware from the napkin, shaking out the napkin, and reaching around mom's back to drape the napkin over her and baby.

In both scenarios, mom is nursing the baby and has been from the moment she sat down.

This happened to me on a recent family outing. I was completely taken by surprise to have my personal space invaded as a perfect stranger took it upon herself to drape a napkin over my child's head while he nursed. I, of course, immediately removed the napkin from his head because he isn't accustomed to dining with his head covered and it was in our way. I was already managing a preschooler's hands, a menu, and a baby - a nursing cover was just added frustration.

If you were the family sitting diagonal from our booth, you might have noticed I was nursing if you happened to be paying attention when I adjusted my clothing to latch him on. Otherwise, it just looked like I was holding my baby. Until there was a napkin over my shoulder.

Now, should you choose to nurse under a blanket or nursing cover, that's completely up to you. Good luck keeping that cover on when you reach the point of The Distractible Nursling - and I do hope you nurse that long and longer. But, if you are trying to be discreet and not draw attention to your nursing self, you should know that nothing screams NURSING MOTHER louder than a blanket over your baby's head.


However you choose to do it, I hope you will nurse in public because the more people do it, the more normal the practice will become in this society. I also hope you know that most states, including mine, protect your right to feed your baby anywhere you are allowed to be.


So, why did I get covered with a napkin? I don't know. I'm guessing it made the waitress uncomfortable when she realized what I was doing. Or maybe she is a very modest person and thought I would appreciate being covered, though I don't know how you reach that conclusion about someone who makes no bones about latching on a baby while placing a drink order. I like to think it isn't the restaurant's policy to cover nursing mothers with napkins. That thought kept me from raising the ruckus that I felt brewing inside me as I stewed over having my personal space invaded and my baby's head covered. It was a nasty brew. One of indignation and violation. One that left me feeling quite pissy until the food came, and still leaves a bad taste in my mouth regardless of the good food. I probably should have spoken to the manager, but I didn't. For that reason, we will go back to that restaurant and give it another try.

Long Lean Luke

Luke, known as Harris by the medical community, had his 4-month check up yesterday. He is 26 inches long (75-90 percentile on the growth chart) and weighs 14 pounds 8 ounces (25 - 50 percentile). Again, he's two pounds heavier and two inches longer than EGR at this age. He's already wearing 6-9 month sized clothing.

Yet again, I discussed reflux with the doctor, and given what I know now with Ella's experience, we decided to medicate him again. I requested something other than the evil Zantac, so he'll also be taking Prevacid - half the dose that his sister takes each day. I think he has "silent reflux" because he doesn't throw up, or even spit up very often, like Ella does. That's the main reason I've been trying to decide if I was crazy for thinking he has it for the last 2 months, but the older he gets, the more obvious it's becoming. We had two nights of inconsolable, painful screaming for over an hour during Christmas and he's more and more often squirming uncomfortably when I lay him in his bed at night. I can also see and hear the reflux coming up into the back of his mouth and him swallowing it back down with a nasty, fussy face. And, he's had an unexplained stuffy nose for almost 2 months. So, child number 2 is medicated, and I will not be so quick to try to get him off the medicine as I was with Ella. I don't want to repeat chronic sinusitis.

He was in rare form for his visit - squealing, rolling over, and showing off his mad jumping skills. He sat right up when the doctor pulled on his hands. He was having a grand ol' time playing with everyone until that first shot royally pissed him off. I know the shots are necessary, but I hateses them.

He now tries to get his own arms out of the straps in the car seat when I unbuckle him. He tries to sit up and get out of the bouncy chair by himself when I unbuckle him. If I prop him semi-reclined on a pillow, he tries to sit himself straight up. It won't be long before he can sit unsupported. He'll be thrilled when he can sit in the floor beside Ella all by himself.

A Good End to the Old Year

New Year's Day sucks. It is the most depressing day of the year for me. I think it's because of the holiday let down. It's rare that I wake up wishing for a day to be over, but that's generally how I feel about January 1st. I am thankful that we have lunch every year at my parent's house because that gives me something to look forward to, but after that I'm just ready to start life over again on the 2nd  without all the holiday hustle bustle. This year was no exception, and the nasty rain didn't help at all.

What was good, was New Year's Eve. I woke up in my new bed, on my new mattress with new sheets, in my newly arranged bedroom with two pairs of giant brown eyes looking at me. Neither pair were Dave's eyes. Luke was in bed with me, as he often is in the mornings, and Ella had come in sometime during the night. They were lying side by side, looking at me, waiting for me to wake up. It filled my heart with joy. (Plus, it's nothing short of a miracle to wake up after them without any of the usual racket.)

Then it got better. I first explained to Ella that it was the last day of the year and that the next day would be the first day of the new year. To which she promptly responded, "And I will go to school?" She's so ready to go back and I'd been telling her that after we had Christmas and New Year's Day it would be almost time for school again. She goes back Thursday and I can't wait because I'm hoping that will help with her sleep regression.

Then Luke was hungry. As I was settling into the pillows to nurse him, she insisted that she wanted to nurse him. I helped her up onto the bed, plopped him into her lap and she lifted her shirt as he turned his head to latch on. Then I took him back and told her I though he wanted her to nurse his stuffed bird instead. She was glad to, so both Luke and Hooey were happily fed. And burped.

It does my heart good to see her to so comfortably nurse her babies, stuffed animals and plastic tub toys - and even in a room full of people, as she demonstrated at Nana's house on Christmas Eve. I love that it is such a normal part of her life that she acts it out. I love that when Luke or other babies cry, she suggests nursing as a remedy. I hope she'll remember this when she has babies one day. It's certainly more normal than the "big bobo" she has behind her panties where Baby Kensley was born, which is the reason she can't carry Baby Jane to the car right now. It's going to take a lot more effort to teach her that C-section deliveries are not normal, but we'll get to that in good time.

Luker Man is his usual smiling, happy self. He got his new cup for Christmas and had no trouble drinking a couple of ounces of milk from it on the first try. He's ready to eat food. So ready that Dave recently asked me at the supper table, "We aren't going to have a peaceful meal around here for two months are we?" No, we will not. He squeals and grabs at our plates. He'll get his first solid food when he's six months old in February; until then he can chew a spoon and squeal at us while we eat. Food isn't the only thing he tries to grab; he's after anything in his reach, which makes holding him in one arm while I put on my makeup even trickier these days. He's also figured out how to propel himself forward in the walker at Grandmother's house. He is pratically bursting with the need to jump in the floor and play with Ella and he gets vocally upset when she leaves his sight. I'm very afraid for the day he becomes independently mobile. He is going to rock her world.

Santa and All That Hooey

Dave and I have made a scandalous decision. A decision that will make you question our American-ness.

We've decided not to perpetuate the myth of Santa.

If there comes a time that our children choose to believe, we will let them. I fully expect conversations and questions about him, but I will probably answer most of them with "What do you think?" I'll glady give them the history of Santa and other Christmas traditions. I don't care if they read books or watch movies about him, but I don't think I can actively pretend that he exists. I don't think they'll need me to. Ella is pretty good at pretending without my help. She spends 90% of her time in an alternate reality; guess who doesn't exist there yet? Santa. Guess who does? Baby Jesus. And Mary. And Joseph, and wise men, and evil King Herrod that did Bad Things. Shame on him.

This is a lot of the reason we've come to this decision. She very much understands that we celebrate Christmas because of Jesus.

She does recognize Santa. She will get gifts at Christmas, but only one of them will be unwrapped and none of them will be labeled from Santa. When she is asked the question, "What is Santa bringing you for Christmas?" She responds with a look of confusion. If the asker continues to ask, I usually just prompt her with, "What do you want for Christmas?" The answer: baby dolls. (I think I need to discuss the student/teacher ratio with her. I believe 10:1 is high enough.) Because we've had several of these encounters, it occurred to me that she doesn't understand the whole Santa concept. Then it occurred to me that she doesn't understand because we've never taught her. We decided we are okay with that. We haven't been to see him this year because, let's face it, it would be a waste of our time. I refuse to make her sit on a stranger's lap for a picture, so there's no point in going. We're okay with that, too.

The whole "be good or Santa won't bring you anything" thing is just a load of hooey. I will not say that to them because it isn't true. Santa doesn't decide who I buy gifts for or why, and there's no reason to malign the Christmas spirit with idle threats that will just worry them. EGR would worry.

Christmas is magical. It is magical because there are pretty lights to look at on the way home in the evenings. It's magical because there are cookies to bake and share with our friends. It's magical because there are decorations  and toys that come out for only a short part of the year. It's magical because there are gifts to give and receive. It's magical because an angel announced the birth of a newborn baby who would be our Savior. I would hate for it to lose it's magic when they realize one day that Santa isn't real.

Some might say I am perpetuating the myth of Jesus. Maybe they are right. Maybe He isn't real, maybe He wasn't born of a virgin, and maybe He didn't die for me, but I've chosen to believe all of that. The only way I will get confirmation of Him is through death. That's called faith. 

I know, without a single doubt, that a strange, old guy does not enter my house in the dead of night (via chimney or otherwise) to leave presents under the tree. I know this because I spent many years spying on my parents, and now I'm the one who puts the presents under the tree.

The Christmas traditions we are establishing are about spending time with family and celebrating the birth of the newborn King. We decorate our tree, make cookies, look at Christmas lights, read the story of Jesus, participate in Night in Bethlehem, and exchange gifts. This year, we are adding a new tradition, something I've wanted to do for years but I felt silly about until I had a preschooler. We will be baking a birthday cake for Jesus.

So, in our house, Santa's role in the Christmas Chaos (which is a limited edition, speciality version of our regular brand of Chaos) is supporting at best. I hope it stays that way.

Merry Christmas! I hope your holiday is magical, however you choose to celebrate it.

What will I teach my children about sex?

This topic keeps making its way to the front of my mind – because of things I’ve read and things I’ve witnessed – so I guess it’s time to write about it.


My beliefs about sex are biblical. Not “because the Bible says so” biblical, but “the two shall become one flesh” biblical (1 Corinthians 6:16). I believe, through my own experience and validated with scripture, that sex is a gift given by God to be shared within a marriage.

If you are thinking you need to stop reading here because I’m getting ready to beat you about the head and shoulders with a Bible, please give me a few more minutes.

The verse I referenced above says, in full: “Or do you not know that he who is joined to a harlot is one body with her? For ‘the two’ He says, ‘shall become one flesh.’” As a harlot would be any woman who shared her body with a man outside of marriage, please replace the word “harlot” (and all its connotations) with the word “woman” or “man” as the case may be.

In plainer words: When you have sex with someone, you bind yourself to that person for all eternity.

Now, that’s just something worth considering. It’s also the root of what and how I will teach my children.

Christian or not (so strip out the biblical reference if you need to), there is no denying that when you have sex with someone, you give that person a little piece of yourself. If you have sex with multiple someones, you give a piece of yourself to each of those people. You are no longer whole. If you decide to marry someday, you will give your husband or wife a partial you AND a piece of all the people with whom you’ve had sex.

So what will I teach my children?

I will teach them that sex is fun, it feels good, it’s intoxicating, it’s normal, and if you feel shamed by it, something is wrong. I will also teach them that it’s powerful, it will turn you inside out, it can scrub you raw, it can bind you close, and it is a vital part of marriage. It should be enjoyed within the confines of a mutually respectful relationship. It should never be used as a weapon or a means to get something you want.

In my fantasy world, they will listen to everything I say on the subject and wait until they are married (to virgins). In reality, I expect them to make their own decisions about their bodies and the best I can do is equip them with knowledge. So not only will I teach my beliefs about the sacredness of sex and the value of abstinence, I will also teach them some science.

I believe sex education begins at birth. It starts with forming strong attachments and mutually respectful relationships with parents and caregivers. It means freely giving affection and constructively criticizing, so as to build them up rather than tear them down. Before they start making decisions about sex, I want them to have confidence in their value as people.

It also means giving them the proper labels for their body parts. It means teaching them that those parts are private and that aside from assistance with using the bathroom, diaper changing, and doctor visits, no one should touch them except the owner of the parts. It also means allowing them to explore their own bodies and teaching them that the exploration of private parts should be done in private.

As they get older, I will make sure they understand human reproduction: the hormones, the organs, menstruation and its purpose, and how a pregnancy is created. They will know about sexually transmitted diseases and how they are contracted, including touching, kissing, and oral sex. They will not only learn the short-term effects of the diseases, but also the possible long-term effects. They will know about and have access to birth control.

They will learn all of this from me and Dave, because this is a subject so important that I am not willing to entrust it to anyone else. Not church, not school, not peers, and definitely not society. My kid will be the reason your kid comes home asking about sex, not the other way around.

4 Nights in a Stable - Light of the World

The whirlwind I stepped into last Wednesday finally set me down in my house again last night. We, Dave, Luke and I, spent four nights in the stable as Mary, Joseph, and the baby Jesus for our Night in Bethlehem program at WBC. We, Ella included, also attended a family Christmas gathering, a birthday dinner, and a preschool Christmas musical. In the spare moments, I squeezed in 10 loads of laundry, a trip to the grocery store, 2 dishwashers full of dishes, and a last minute trip to the pediatrician. It's time to take a breath.

While four nights in the stable was a big committment that completely disrupted our routine, I am so very grateful for those hours of sitting quietly with my husband. If I've been busy, he's been completely overwhelmed. It was really nice to be in his presence without rushing here and there while trying to have adult conversations in code and spelling. It was cold. We were tired. I couldn't have been happier. I hope that we were a blessing to the families that attended the event, but I know that the biggest blessing I received was a few moments of peace.

Since I was a little girl visiting the live Nativity at church, I've wanted to be Mary with the baby Jesus. Here he is, Luke, as our Infant Lord.

With the help of Aunt Jessica, Ella finally fulfilled one of her goals at our first Christmas gathering of the season. She has been on a quest for a "wittle Tiana" to complete her set of princesses for months now. (If you don't know, Tiana is the princess from The Princess and the Frog.) Aunt Jessica searched high and low, thought we were playing a joke on her, and finally found little Tiana. I only hope we have another moment this Christmas as magical as the one where Ella opened that present. Her reaction was priceless: large gasp followed by, "We got her!" Full of wonder.

She also made it through her Christmas musical, Jesus: Light of the World. She was a ball of nerves on the way to school last night and she melted completely down as I was dropping her off. I had to peel her off of me and give her to her teacher. By the time the show started, she had recomposed herself and she did great. It was obvious which parts were her favorite because those were the parts she actually sang or did, but she stood in her place the whole time without any tears, accidents, or other wild scenarios that were playing through my mind. I think I was just as nervous as her at the beginning. I was so proud of her. She was just relieved when it was over.

I also cleared the memory card for my camera, so I have a few other pictures to share. Dave took this one on our date with her to see Disney on Ice. Princess Wishes, of course.

I look forward to embarrassing her with this one some day. 

 This is what happens when Big Baby doesn't get enough sleep.

This is my almost 4 month old son trying to see what his sister was doing. He gets positively angry if you try to sit him down and even angrier when his legs get too tired to hold him up any longer.

This sight swells my heart. Dave-o has learned to appreciate the beauty of holding a sleeping baby. He did not want to get up to go to my birthday dinner, and he made me take this picture before he would move.

Thirty is the New Twenty

Today is my 30th birthday. I don’t really care about the number, and I certainly do not want to relive my 20th year, but I have made a couple of concessions to thirty.

1. I upgraded my moisturizer from Neutrogena Oil Free SPF 15 to a day cream with SPF 25 and a night cream for 30 year old skin. I’m still using the Proactive, though; having thirty years under my belt has not stopped me from breaking out like a teenager.

2. I’ve joined the ranks of the pedometer wearing exercise crazies. I have a lingering blood sugar issue and my doctor told me to walk more. But, the truth be told, I’m doing it for the money. I earn 60 Healthmiles for every 7000 steps I take through my company’s fitness program, and then I get to cash in my miles for gift cards. Watching this little thing count my every step really has motivated me to move more. I’m not above marching around the house at bedtime to get the last 1000 steps or clipping it on for a middle of the night run to the kitchen for infant Tylenol.

Would I relive any of the past 30 years? Maybe the 19th - that’s when I fell in love with the man God made for me. And, I wouldn’t mind having my 23 year old body again. I really should have enjoyed it more. It’s ironic that I’m so much happier in this 30 year old body, that’s stretched and scarred and 25lbs heavier, than I ever was in my younger body. Maybe that’s because of wisdom or maybe it’s because of motherhood, but I’m certainly glad I no longer obsess over 5 lbs lost or gained.

Would I do anything different? Nope. While I’ve made plenty of mistakes, I do believe that the life I’ve lived makes me who I am today and I would not change that.

Have I learned anything? Ha! I haven’t stopped learning things and I hope I never do.

- I’ve learned that even though it chaps me, it usually is best to suck it up and be the first to apologize in a stalemate.

- I’ve learned to keep my mouth shut. Words don’t need to be said just for the sake of saying words.

- I’ve learned to be more flexible and to let others be in control. Sometimes.

- I’ve learned that I can only do what I can do – in 8 hours, in 24 hours, in a week, and I don’t stress about what doesn’t get done. It’s always there when I get back to it. Especially dishes and laundry.

- I’ve learned to give myself a break sometimes. It makes me a better person.

- I’ve learned to indulge – in a caramel latte, expensive conditioner, a fat book that I’m just going to read in a day’s time and give away, whatever.

- I’ve learned to give things away. It clears my mind and helps someone else.

- I’ve learned when to compromise and when not to. Most things are negotiable, but a few will never be:
     1. The path to Heaven.
     2. The sanctity of marriage.
     3. My relationships with my children.
     4. My right to decide what or what not to do with my body.
     5. The genius of J.K. Rowling.

- I’ve learned that the things I like least about myself are the very things that will mock me in the faces of my children. And I’m learning how to deal with that.

- I am still learning how to walk around in this world with my heart outside of my body. I think that one really might take the rest of my life.

So, here’s to 30. I hope the next thirty find me as happy and satisfied as I am today.

Big Baby's World

I'm pretty sure EGR spilled the beans last night on what was supposed to be a Christmas surprise for me and Dave. A couple of nights ago she needed a camera to take a picture of her babies. We found her a little digital photo keychain that never worked like it was supposed to, and she's been using it as her camera (after Dave confiscated the binoculars that she was using as a camera). I assumed this was just because we had Christmas pictures taken recently, but last night she was telling me at the supper table that she was taking pictures of the babies to give to their mommies and daddies. I asked her if her teacher has been taking pictures of her at school and she confirmed that she has. I see a photo gift in my near future. By the way, this is also the reason we don't discuss secrets in front of her. She may pretend that she doesn't know how to talk around most people, but I will eventually find out all the goods when she acts it out in play.

Because she is so involved in her classroom when we get home in the evenings, we've resorted to moving her little table into the kitchen so that she can eat with the family and still make sure the babies get their lunch. After lunch, they have rest. Every available flat surface in our Big Room (dining room/sitting room) has a baby napping on it covered neatly with a blanket. The bottom drawer of the changing table where I keep receiving blankets is empty. When nap is over, she tosses the blankets under the end table to store them until the next nap time. I've learned a lot about her teacher's mannerisms from watching her teach her babies.

She has handled not having milk to drink amazingly well so far, and she's pretty much opted to just skip any type of milk until she can have cow milk again. She has had a couple of cups of my milk (we call it Mommy Milk) but that was only when she really wanted some milk. At bedtime the other night she was trying to convince me to give her some cow milk. She told me, "I'm feeling better. I can have cow milk now. My nose feels better." I told her she still has to wait until we see the doctor again; she opted for water that night.

As further proof that she pays attention to the conversations around her, especially if they are about her, every time I do something that the allergist told me to do she asks me, "Who told you to do that?" I've gotten that question about the milk, the new purifier in her room, the allergy covers on her pillows and mattress, the pillows I used to prop up the head of her bed, and the cats new outside home.

Last night she opened the door to let Georgia inside (!) and Gypsy came in. She went running after her saying, "Mom, Gypsy came in!" I told her I would catch her and she went and closed the door! I didn't realize she had gotten tall enough to open the door and close it back again. She has really been in a helpful phase lately. When I put the mattress cover on her bed over the weekend, she actually stood on the opposite side and helped me pull it up. Then she pulled up the sheets while I tucked them in at the bottom and she put the pillows on the bed. Two nights in a row, she has washed her own hair in the bath tub (and done a pretty decent job of it) and tried to rinse it. She can almost brush her teeth by herself now, I just give them a good once over when she's finished. She has a screaming fit if I've already put all the laundry in the washer or dryer before she gets there. That is her job now. It's amazing.

I've recently learned that her family (Big Baby's family) has a house in Birmingham with two dogs - a big dog and a little dog, and a baby sister.

The H. Luke Update
Luke is serious about the hand play. I watched him reach and grab over and over last night until the got the one toy he was reaching for on the high chair tray. He loves all the dancing and singing Santas and reindeer and dogs, etc. at the various houses he visits, and when they are playing he needs to stand on the floor and dance with them. He has already developed a love for Mickey Mouse Clubhouse. If it is on in the room with him, he will contort his body until he can see the TV and then he watches wide-eyed until it goes off. He has also discovered he can blow bubbles with the large quantities of drool dripping from his mouth.

Big Baby Only Wikes Cow Milk

It seems so fitting that the week when Ella cuts her last tooth is the same week that Luke cuts his first tooth. I got visual confirmation during Mr. Dentist time two nights ago that Ella's last molar is finally breaking through the skin. I haven't gotten a good look at Luke's new tooth yet, but I can feel the sharp little edge of it with my finger. Plus, we've wiped buckets of drool off of the child's mouth - upgrading from burp cloths to receiving blankets in the process.

Sweet little Luker is another sponge, soaking up all that happens around him. He has learned to scream a la EGR, and he sounds just like her. Right now it's cute and funny; 18 months from now I'll be banishing him to his room when he won't stop.

He is getting really good at grabbing things with both hands and putting them in his mouth, and he's starting to show preference for certain toys. Given a tray full, he always goes straight for the little plastic rhino that Ella gave him from the elephant train. Before you go thinking "Oh, how sweet," let me inform you that she no longer "wike[s] rhinos." But, she usually is very sweet to him.

She had her follow-up with the allergist yesterday and we did the skin testing. She did fantastic. She cried silently through the whole process and several minutes afterward, but she sat very still and didn't try to scratch. Considering what I was expecting to happen, this was nothing short of a miracle (and thanks for the prayers, too). I'm pretty sure the crying was more due to being touched repeatedly by a stranger than from the actual testing because she never indicated that it hurt, but she flinched every time the nurse touched her. She is my child through and through. I require a healthy respect for my personal space and so does she.

I was really hoping to hear that she only has seasonal allergies, but we weren't that lucky. She is mildy allergic to milk, cats, feathers, and weeds and trees. So, my milkaholic has to quit the dairy for the next 6 weeks so we can see if that's what is keeping her stuffy and infected. She gamely participated in picking out soy and almond milk at Pugits, but she didn't want to taste test them last night. I gave her plain soy milk in her cup this morning and she took several sips of it before she asked me to dump it out because she doesn't like it. She flatly refused "Wuke's milk" when I offered that, but I think I might try just giving it to her like I did the soy. I will gladly go dairy-free and pump for her if she'll drink it. We also have vanilla soy and plain almond milk. If she'll get over the fact that it's not cow milk, I think she'll like the vanilla soy because it tastes a lot like the "milkbox from Starbucks." Also, no more cheese, yogurt, ice cream and sour cream for 6 weeks. It's not going to be easy on her, but I think we'll end up being able to add that stuff back in occasionally once we finally get rid of this sinus infection that she still has.

She's back on antibiotics again and the doctor increased her Prevacid from once a day to twice a day because she's still having bouts of reflux and the nasty bedtime cough. The doctor still believes the reflux is the main problem, and I still agree, but we are also eliminating the allergens in an effort to get her well.

Jewel and Gypsy became outside cats last night. The nurse told me we didn't have to get rid of them, just keep them out of the bedroom and off the furniture. Yeah. I fixed them up with a warm blanket and the food and water bowl in the carport. They thought they were just having a picnic until I turned out all the lights and they realized I wasn't going to let them in at bedtime. It sucks, and they really played it up, fluffing out their fur and crying at me with sad eyes.

Family Foto Fun

Between my knack for closing my eyes whenever a camera is present and Ella's inability to sit still, capturing a photographic moment of the family is interesting. These are a few from Thanksgiving, which is when we usually take a Christmas card picture. My sister was the photographer, but she did get to join in the fun.

Look at all those teeth we've worked so hard to grow. The last one is finally coming through this week.

Busy in the new playroom - which, by the way, she told her teacher she is thankful for.

She is probably looking for a lipstick or an eyeshadow in that purse. The girl already loves her cosmetics.

My sweet boy. He really could not be any more different from his sister. I think they will balance each other very well one day.

 My sister and I being silly.

 And Dave, making fun of us.

 I think this is my favorite one of the day.

Classic Roper family picture.
                                                
We did get a decent one for our Christmas card, and hopefully I will find the time to address them before Christmas.

"He did it again."

I am a hypocrite.


In the last week, I’ve had conversations with two different people during which I was reminding them that holding on to anger just makes you bitter. My heart is full of anger and I have not been able to let it go. I’m not sure if I’ve really tried. I have talked to God about it, but it’s like that old dish rag I just keep taking back from Him and wringing more dirty water out of. Like I think He can’t handle the job.

The truth is, I like being mad. I like to wallow in it and think about all the things I want to say, even when I can feel the bitterness taking over, turning the edges of my soul black. Anger is much easier than hurt, which is what I know will take its place when I finally let it go. So, I keep taking it back and squeezing more out until I’m just tired, but it doesn’t go away. And it doesn’t change anything.

We, my family and I, are rapidly approaching a very upsetting anniversary. The anniversary of a Sunday afternoon when I was snuggled on my couch with a sick child when the phone rang and it was my mother, who greeted me with: “He did it again.” Those are four words that are forever etched in my memory. The “he” was my youngest brother; the “it” was his second suicide attempt. We had only found out a couple of weeks before that his previous accidental overdose was actually his first suicide attempt.

I sat on my couch and cried and screamed for Dave to come upstairs and hold me. All I could think about was how I would explain to Ella that Uncle Joshua died.

He didn’t die. He spent one night in the hospital and was sent home the next day. We still don’t know why they didn’t keep him there. We spent weeks terrified that he would try again. Every time the phone rang, every time we passed an ambulance, I wondered if he had made another attempt. All the drugs in their house were hidden and under lock and key. We were cutting meat with butter knives because the sharp ones were put away somewhere. He was under 24 hour supervision. Suicide watch. Weeks turned to months and the security slacked up, as my mother and stepfather tried to find some semblance of normalcy again, whatever that may be. It was a life-changing event, and like a rock dropped in a mud puddle, it rippled outward to affect more people than he will ever know.

And, I’m mad about it. Still.

I’m mad when he doesn’t get out of bed because it sets a bad example for Ella. I’m mad when he does get out of bed because she loves him so much and I don’t trust that he won’t do it again. I’m mad that the chances of her attempting suicide are increased simply because he, an older family member, did. I’m mad that I’ve had to seriously consider changing child care arrangements, maybe even quitting my job, to limit her exposure to him. I’m mad that I feel like I should be defending him when people ask about him, but I’m too mad to find any empathy in my heart for him and then I feel guilty. I’m mad that I feel guilty about that. I’m mad about how his actions have affected the relationships around him. I’m mad that he can’t stand face to face with me and talk about it, or even admit that he did it. I’m just mad.

And, I don’t understand.

I don’t understand what makes someone decide that their very best option is to take their own life. Pack a bag and leave? That I understand. That I’ve done. But kill myself? Not bloody likely. I cannot imagine a circumstance in which I would feel like that was my only option.

So here I am, now, renewing my effort to pray without ceasing for him, for my family members, and telling others to pray also, when it occurred to me that my heart is full of anger. That I cannot pray, and that I cannot pray effectively, because of my own bitterness. So now every prayer I pray starts with, “God please take this anger from my heart. I know I keep taking it back from you, please forgive me for holding on to it.” Until I let it go, nothing I do or say will help the healing. I need a new perspective. I need to see some change. I need some sign that there is hope that this situation we’ve been fighting through for nearly a year isn’t just going to end up in more hurt and loss.

These are just a few very scary national statistics for you (from American Foundation for Suicide Prevention):

• Over 34,000 people in the United States die by suicide every year.
• Suicide is the fourth leading cause of death for adults between the ages of 18 and 65 years in the United States (28,628 suicides).
• Suicide is the third leading cause of death among those 15-24 years old.
• A person dies by suicide about every 15 minutes in the United States.
• Ninety percent of all people who die by suicide have a diagnosable psychiatric disorder at the time of their death.
• There are an estimated 8-25 attempted suicides for every suicide death.
• Depression affects nearly 10 percent of Americans ages 18 and over in a given year, or more than 24 million people.
• More Americans suffer from depression than coronary heart disease (17 million), cancer (12 million) and HIV/AIDS (1 million).

The phone number you should call if you or someone you love is in danger of committing suicide:

National Suicide Prevention Lifeline
1-800-273-8255

Goodbye Diapers

Today is the fifth day since my sweet daughter officially became a panty-wearer. It's the third day since her last accident. I am so proud for her. She is loving being able to handle her potty business without my help, she just lets me know when she's finished so I can empty the bowl for her. I was a nervous wreck when she insisted on wearing panties to school Monday, but she has done fantastic.

I don't know what exactly pushed her off the diaper cliff into a pile of princess, dog, frog, duck, kitty, Dora, and Sponge Bob panties, but I'm glad she finally made the leap. We have had numerous conversations during which I've told her that if she doesn't want me to change her diaper she needs to be wearing panties and using the potty. We have read Diapers Are Not Forever countless times. Then Grandmother had what might have been the eye-opening conversation with her when she pointed out that I don't wear diapers and neither to any of the other grown people in her life. It was that afternoon that she started wearing panties full-time, except for overnight. The first night, when I put the diaper on her at bedtime, she had a fit because she didn't want to wear it and she waddled around the house trying not to let it touch her.

It will be a while before I will let her wear panties at bedtime because she's not staying dry overnight yet, and she only wakes up after she pees in the diaper. However, we've put a new routine in place where she must use the potty as soon as she gets up in the morning. Two out of three mornings I've had to bodily put her there and make her sit, but she did it. Why do kids hate using the bathroom first thing in the morning? She tells me she doesn't need to. As if. I know that if the diaper doesn't weigh five pounds, she still has to pee.

The pooping still needs work, but she - WE - are working on it. She did try to poop in the potty last night as I read a large stack of books to her (which gave me flashbacks to potty training with my brother), but we finally opted for a diaper because she just couldn't make it happen and supper was on hold because Luke was requiring Dave to play with him. We will just keeping practicing that part until she gets it.

In other EGR news, she is practicing for a Christmas musical at school. I have no idea what song she is learning, but I do hear her saying "Hallelujah" occasionally and she's been reading to her babies/students about a newborn king. She found some Little People farm characters and she's pretending they are the baby Jesus. I think she's ready for me to bring out her Nativity set - which I can't wait to do, the day after Thanksgiving.

The H. Luke Update
Luker is up to his usual antics of cooing, talking, smiling, and flirting with everyone. He fusses at me in the evenings if he hears Dave come in but I don't hand him over to him. He does look forward to seeing his Daddy. He sat in the basement with Dave and I while we worked on Project Christmas over the weekend and I set him up in the bouncy seat with a musical walker toy in front of him. That child figured out that he could kick the walker and make the music play. He's wearing some 6 month sized clothes and they fit him all too well.

Reflux Part Deux

EGR visited the allergist this week and we found out that her reflux is a probable cause of her chronic sinusitis. The doctor offered an upper GI study, but I opted for a trial on the medicine instead. I see no reason to subject her to that test when we know she has it and she's been medicated for it before. She is now taking Prevacid once a day, and because the pharmaceutical world obviously thinks it's funny to watch harried mothers give young children medicine, I have to break open the capsules and sprinkle the granules on her food or in her drink. Yeah right. I put it her drink the first day and after one sip she said, "Mama, what's in my teeth?" I told her it was surprise. She didn't argue, and eventually the granules do dissolve so she just drinks it down. When she was on Prevacid as a baby, she ate chewable tablets. Do you think they still make those? Of course not. That would be too easy to administer. I really have beef with the pharmaceutical industry. It should just be easier to give kids medicine. Anything nasty tasting should be administered via a patch between the shoulder blades - especially narcotic pain medicine. Why should they have to suffer because it tastes bad and you can't reason with a toddler? Sorry, I'm ranting.

She no longer has to take the antihistamine the pediatrician prescribed, but now she's taking Singulair instead. It is a very tasty chewable tablet, so bedtime medicine got slightly easier in that regard. Unfortunately, she still has to use her Flonase, but I only have to do one spray in each nostril instead of two. Oh, and I should point it to the side of her nose, not straight up and down - making it that much more difficult to administer it to a wiggling child. The allergist told me to do it after she falls asleep. I gave it a try; she jumped right up after the first spray. Why does nose spray have to be sprayed so accurately?

We have a follow up appointment in two weeks, and she'll be having allergy skin testing done that day. I did get reassurance from the nurse that it's needle-less, but it will still be a bunch of scratches with little plastic sticks. I started praying last night that she'll be cooperative that day because it will be very traumatic, even without needles, if I have to hold her down for it. The whole process lasts only 10 minutes, but any mother knows how very long 10 minutes can be.

My gut tells me that the reflux is the cause. It's something that's been tickling my mind for weeks, so I'm happy to be treating it again. Her sleep has already improved dramatically after two days of new medicine. I'm quite sure reflux is the reason she sometimes cannot make her "mouth be still."

The H. Luke Update
H. Luke is three months old today. We are running into a pesky problem with that one. He's bored, but he is still a bit too wobbly on the top to put him in the Exersaucer or Johhny Jump Up. For now, I'm putting him in the high chair with a tray full of toys to work on putting in his mouth. It does keep him occupied for a while. The real issue is that he wants to be down in the floor doing what Ella does. His very favorite thing is when she interacts with him, even if she's taking things away or not being nice. He doesn't care, he just loves her attention. Yesterday, he sat up in my lap, holding my fingers for balance, and had a tea party with her and the babies.

I'm so tired of snot.

My snot, Ella's snot, Luke's snot, even Dave has snot. I'm tired of wiping it, blowing it, sucking it, and medicating it. When will it end? The amount of medicine Ella is taking right now is ridiculous. Last night she came into the kitchen as I was preparing her drugs and just started picking up syringes and trying to take it herself - four of them and nose spray. And, by the way, giving nose spray to a 2 year old is not a fun chore. She hates it, I hate it, and half of the time it goes in her eye as she turns her head while I spray it. Grrr.

Then...Then she goes to bed and just as she's falling asleep, she starts coughing and she has so much gunk in her throat and she coughs so hard that she throws up. Poor kid.

I spent so much time at the doctor's office during my maternity leave, I feel like we need to add the pediatrician to our Christmas card list. She's on her fourth round of antibiotics since mid-September and I just got a call from preschool to pick her up because she's running a fever and coughing too hard to sleep. We have an appointment with an allergist tomorrow for allergy testing, but I'm skeptical. She's been taking allergy medicine every night for weeks and I can't see that it's doing anything.

I think I might go pull my hair out now.

Back in the Grind

Maternity leave is officially over and I am back at work today. So far, I've been very productive. I've socialized, put in my vacation requests for the rest of the year, and pumped 8 oz. of milk. Shortly, I'll go find out what form my work torture will assume, but for now, I'm updating this blog while I have access.

The leaving wasn't as hard this time as it was with Ella. In part because I've been leaving her for two years, and in other part because Luke is just different than her. I don't have the intense worry about how he will handle being away from me like I did with her. I miss his cuddly little self already, but I don't fear that he's screaming his head off in my absence. He laughed and talked all the way to Grandmother's house this morning and he gave me a giant grin when I kissed him goodbye.

EGR was completely excited to get back in the routine. The first thing she said when she became aware that I was dressing her awake was, "We are going to Grandmother's house?" She disappeared as soon as we got there, but she did spare a moment to blow me a kiss and say, "Bye, Mom" as I walked out the door. My, how she has grown up. I really can't even call her a toddler anymore. Preschooler is much more accurate.

The morning was amazingly smooth. EGR came to my room and went back to sleep before I got up to shower and H. Luke woke up at the same time, ate, and went back to sleep. I woke them both up in time to dress them and roll them out of bed and into the car. The beds aren't made, but the kitchen is clean and I didn't forget anything so I'll call it a success.

Bits of Fun

Today, I noticed some blue Bic scribbling on the wall in my living room. The likely culprit was sitting in the floor reading her books, so I asked her what it was. I expected to hear something about how Big Baby did it, but as usual, she surprised me when she matter-of-factly stated, "A snake." I laughed. Hard.

Some amusing person put little tubs of Play-Doh in the treat bags at her class party last week, so of course when she found it she needed to play with it. I've been limiting it to the table on the porch for now, but then I realized that there is a beautiful thing about Play-Doh. It's technically a food product. She has given it a taste and spit it out, but Sweet Georgia Brown doesn't care that it's virtually tasteless, she eats it because it's food. I don't think EGR has realized that it is slowly disappearing. Now that I've got someone else to clean it up, I'll be a little more willing to let her play with it in the house. Then I'll check the yard for technicolor poop.

The H. Luke Update
H. Luke is happy as ever, and maybe even happier now that he's figured out how to get the trunk of his little stuffed elephant into his mouth for chewing. He's been working hard at it for about a week, and he finally got it yesterday. I swear the kid is teething already.

Happy Halloween

I think, in an effort to not celebrate Halloween on Sunday, we (Collective we, not me specifically because I think it's a load of dookie to trick or treat on Saturday just because Halloween is on Sunday, but that's a post for another day.) successfully stretched it into 3 days of observation. I'm glad it's over. I've had enough tantrums brought about by too much sugar, too little routine, and too little sleep. By Friday afternoon, we had a pink scull ("It's not scary") full of candy and three treat bags. We had also seen a giant chicken walking up and down Main street and had many discussions about whether the chicken would hurt her. I think she was too worried about the chicken to notice the very scary masks that kept passing by our stroller. However, by Sunday she had forgotten about the chicken and was slighty terrified of the Cat in the Hat. That did not make my life easier.

This picture sums up the evening.

This was the first picture of the afternoon. Just look at them. They look like they are about to wreak havoc on the world.

Next year, I have to think up something calm and happy for thier costumes because these ended up being a self-fulfilling prophesy. I could not get them back in thier box fast enough.

Maybe they'll be snails. Or sloths.