Lameass NaBloMe post

It's always around this midway point of NaBloPoMo that I get fatigued and bored of my own boring blogging. Lucky for you, I soldier on. Oh yes, I am nothing if not dedicated.

Anyway, I am sick. With a terrible cold. The cold both my children have had this week. And now I know why Emmie was waking up multiple times per night, because I woke up multiple times last night. I cried and wanted Josh to come and get me, but he made me cry it out.

Tonight, we're going on a Date. Capital D. A movie and something to eat. And for the first time ever, we are paying a babysitter. Up until now, we've been lucky enough to leave them with family. And because we're cheapasses, it works out well. Tonight's babysitter is still family (Josh's cousin) but we're paying him. Our immediate family better not get any ideas from that though -- they're still on the hook for free.

Snot-nosed kid

Poor Emmie is sick again. Her nose had finally stopped running for a mere five days after her epic 21-day cold of last month and now it started again.

This time, however, I am fighting it with a humidifier and Vicks on the bottom of her feet. I read it really does work, so I am giving it a try.

Unfortunately, her cold also throws her sleep all to shit. Two nights ago, she woke up at 10 and would only be pacified by the boob. And even that didn't put her to sleep, it only calmed her down. Last night she woke at 9, same drill. Screamed hysterically, snot everywhere, until I finally brought her in my bed and fed her.

Can't wait to see what tonight has in store for us. Because I do so love being up multiple times per night 10 months into this.

Poor thing

Emmie sneezed approximately 746 times today, leading me to believe that she was getting sick.

She woke up crying tonight after only being in bed for an hour. Then another 15 minutes after that. Because she is sick, I decided to go in there and not make her cry it out. She was interupting my Entourage viewing, but because she probably needed me, I paused it. I am selfless like that.

She lifted her head and she was covered in snot. Literally dripping down her face. So I moved her to the swing so she could be propped up, snd you know, breathing. Sent Josh out for Tylenol. We'll drug her up good and hope for the best.

It's those damn preschool germs. Poor kid doesn't get any of the fun of finger-painting, snack time or the train set and all the fun of the sickness.

Covered in snot

We went to the lake again this weekend and both my children decided it would be a good time to cover ever available inch of me and the house with their snot. Jack started first on Friday and Emmie wasn't far behind a few hours later.

Of course for Jack, it's not that huge of a deal. We chase him around the house with a Kleenex a few times and he acts like a whinybutt and he sleeps more than usual. No biggie.

But Emmie is a whole different ball of wax. I finally had her sleeping 7 p.m. to 4 a.m. this week, putting herself to sleep in her crib, and now the sickness strikes. She can't breathe with a pacifier or her fingers in her mouth because her nose is running like a faucet, so she can't soothe herself to sleep or back to sleep. So she screams and cries mutliple times a night and I have to go in there. Last night I ended up putting her to sleep in her swing so she would be propped up and able to breathe.

Of course, she fights me on the nose sucker like she's drowning and heaven forbid I should try to wipe her nose. Oh, the horror.

This little illness should strike me down in about two days, which would make it just in time for our trip to Vegas and San Francisco later this week. Because nothing says "child-free vacation" like a stuffy nose and the smell of Vicks.

Taking a look

Today I had to take Emmie in for her abdominal ultrasound. You know, one of tests she doesn't need to have done because there's nothing wrong with her except being skinny.

It was funny because I am used to seeing her on ultrasound, not seeing ultrasounds done on her. I half expected to see a fetus pop up on the screen and wave it's little skeletor arm at me.

The technician said everything looked fine. Emmie was talking and twisting and trying to grab the ultrasound wand and generally acting like a thriving seven-month old. Well, a seven-month old with a cold. A pathetic runny nose and little cough. Poor kid.

She didn't even cry when they stuck the needle in her arm for the blood draw. She was super interested in the Snoopy bandaid afterward, however.

Not so successful was the attempt to collect her urine sample. With wee babies, they use this plastic bag contraption that gets taped in place and is supposed to collect the urine. Except Emmie somehow successfully peed around the bag. Twice. I have to take the stealth pee-er back for one more test on Friday, so I can just keep trying until then.

I plan to have her sit in a bowl until she has to go. I figure she can't outsmart me then.

Feeling like a failure

Today Emmie had her appointment with the pediatric gastroenterologist. The GI doc asked a lot of questions, examined her and of course measured and weighed her.

While she went from 13 lbs 11 ounces to 14 lbs 2 ounces in the last three weeks, she's still not where she should be in terms of weight. Her weigh-in today placed her in the 5th percentile, which also got her the official label of Failure To Thrive. Except, the GI doc said, she appears to be thriving. So he is saying it's in name only at this point.

We also found out our pediatrician mis-measured her at her last appointment and her height is only in the 50th percentile, not greater than the 95th. So she's apparently not going to be doing shoe endorsements for Nike any time soon. She's just average, I guess.

We discussed the silent reflux, and he said he does not think she has it. He told us to stop the Zantac, as it probably wasn't doing anything. Although I am sure she will miss the spectacular grape taste twice each day, we discontinued it tonight.

He also wants to run a few tests, specifically blood, sweat, stool and urine in addition to an ultrasound of her stomach. He said he doesn't expect to find anything, but it's better to have them done.

His most interesting question came in reference to her suspected milk protein intolerance. When I told him I had cut out all dairy and soy, he said I also need to cut out nuts and shellfish. Apparently, the shrimp skewers with peanut sauce are off the menu from now on. But I digress. After we discussed my limited diet, he asked how committed I was to breastfeeding on a scale of 1-10. I of course said 10 and that I would do whatever I needed to do to make it to a year. He was supportive and said that was fine, he just wanted to let me know we could try a hypoallergenic formula if I didn't want to be so restricted.

For now, he wants us giving her three or four meals of solids a day, following up with breastfeeding. He also said to feed her on demand, no matter what time of day or night. His exact words were, "Let her eat."

So we're going to bust out the avocado and applesauce mixture that Jack enjoyed so much, I am going to whip out the boob at the slightest whif of interest and we'll be back for a follow-up in a month. Until then, we'll just be being over here, failing to thrive.

Weighty matters

I took Little Miss Giant to her six-month pediatrician visit on Wednesday, where it was confirmed she was still indeed a giant -- 27.25 inches, which is greater than the 95th percentile. Get your 2028 WNBA tickets now!

But -- and you knew with this kid there had to be a but -- she's not gaining enough weight. She only weighed 13 pounds 11 ounces and her doctor said he would have liked to see her weigh 14.5 to even consider having her cry it out at night. The CIO no longer concerns me, since clearly she needs the calories, but the lack of weight-gain is kind of troubling.

At her four-month appointment, Emmie weighed 12 pounds 2 ounces, giving her a whopping gain of just over one-and-a-half pounds in two months. This, combined with her milk protein intolerance, got us a referral to a pediatric GI specialist. Our doctor said he's not concerned yet, but he wants to rule out any problems. He also wants to see her back in a month for a weight check.

At first, I pooh-poohed the issue. She's a totally happy baby, only cries when she's tired and is meeting her milestones at or ahead of time. She even waved at the doctor, which he said was advanced because it's a nine-month skill. Sure, she's the crappiest sleeper ever, but I am convinced her caloric intake goes to making herself taller, not making herself chubbier.

He also said they wouldn't worry unless her head stopped growing, and her head circumference stayed right on her curve in the 50th percentile.

Today, my degree from the Google School of Medicine starting kicking in. She wakes multiple times during the night. She eats frequently overnight, oh about six or seven times, but who's counting? She does crunches. She really likes sleeping in her swing. We hold her a lot. She has a milk protein intolerance. She's not gaining weight like she should.

Holy crap -- those are all symptoms of silent reflux. Suddenly the heavens parted and the light shone down upon me and I felt a moment of being one with the universe. I think Emmie has silent reflux. She very rarely spits up. She eats a lot, but spends a lot of time pulling off the breast. Combined with all of the above, it's pretty good match.

So this morning I called my pediatrician and reported my suspicions. When I presented my case to him, he said it did sound like it could be silent reflux. He prescribed her Zantac, twice a day and we'll see if it makes any difference. If it does, and she gains weight and starts sleeping better, awesome. If nothing changes, we've ruled it out and still have an appointment with the GI doctor.

Or, as Josh said the other day, maybe she's buying into the media messages and is trying to keep her slim figure via an eating disorder.

Rolling, rolling, rolling

Emmie rolled from her back to her front today. This is momentus for two reasons.

First, she abhors being on her stomach with the passion normally reserved for religious zealots. You put her down and she is smiley for about 45 seconds and then the fuss begins and soon she is so upset I just swoop in and pick her up because listening to her cry raises my blood pressure by about 70 points. So I am not sure why she would voluntarily flip herself onto her tummy, but she did.

The second reason is she is now, in theory, mobile. And we wanted the basement remodeling project done before she was mobile. So we really need to get past the stage we are at today, which involved demolition of all the drywall downstairs. I actually see the brick on the outside of this house from the inside of the house. It's kind of urban-loft hipster, except not. Because it's not cool, it's just messy.

Also, an update on Jack and his sickness. He's still sick, Running around playing and generally acting like himself. We took him to Grandma and Grandpa's lake house this weekend and he had a great time. No more vomiting, but wowsa, those diapers are DISGUSTING. Poor kid is so traumatized he won't poop anywhere but in his diaper in his bed, so he ends up wandering around saying, "Butt hurt. Poop bed." I finally put him in his bed for a few minutes this morning, which produced the desired result, and he seemed to feel better for a while. But we're still on Dehydration-Watch 2008 here. So far, no one else has gotten sick. You know I just cursed myself by typing that.

It was a good vomit-free run

It lasted 27 months, 22 days but all good things must come to an end. My son puked for the first time this morning and I was thisclose to missing it. Unfortunately for me, and fortunately for Josh, I was literally walking out the door to meet a friend for coffee when he started blowing chunks in his high chair. So I stopped in my tracks. Although I did consider getting my beverage and muffin to go. I wouldn't have been gone that long.

Josh said Jack woke up with possibly the worst diaper he has ever had to change. But he was acting normal and wanting to eat his "mel" (oatmeal) so Josh made him a bowl. Next thing he knew, Jack was starting to gag and then the oatmeal was mixed with a lot of other stuff.

Jack was sobbing, obviously he was scared about the whole thing. Hell, I cry when I throw up. (I have not thrown up from a stomach bug since I was in eighth grade. I should get a medal, no?)

I was almost sobbing when I had to help clean it up. I don't do puke. Those friends you have in college who always vow to hold your hair while you puke? Yeah that wasn't me. I was the friend leaving them in the dorm bathroom and going out for another drink. But when it was my own child, I manned up. Josh and I tag-teamed the cleaning of the boy and I hosed down the high chair and started the laundry.

After all that excitement, and a trip to the grocery store for pedialyte and applesauce, I came home and needed something from Jack's room. It pretty much reeked of the diaper from that morning and I couldn't understand why since we disposed of that affront to nature in the outdoor garbage. That's when I found his pajamas -- with poop inside them. And then glanced in his bed, where I found more poop. Not sure how Josh missed those little presents, but I will give him the benefit of the doubt since he stumbled in there at the ungodly hour of 7 a.m.

The rest of the morning and afternoon were sickness-free. He ate some dry toast, egg, applesauce and pedialyte. He took a three-and-a-half-hour nap and woke up in a chipper mood. My pediatrician's office says to start a regular diet, including milk, 6-8 hours after the last bout of sickness. So we gave him some crackers and milk and he was fine. His father declared him well enough to go out for pizza.

You might think I am going somewhere with this. Nowhere you might be guessing.

The pizza dinner was fine. But when we got home, he started wandering around the house saying, "Butt hurt, butt hurt. Poop." We encouraged him to go on the potty, but he was having none of that. Instead he went in his diaper, which was fine. Josh said it was bad again, changed him and got him ready for the bath. Where he started wandering around saying the same thing. But this time he was looking kinda nervous. We put him down in the bathtub, he stood up and promptly pooped in the bathtub.

So not only did he puke for the first time today, he also pooped in the bathtub for the first time. It upset him much more than it did us. He knew he wasn't supposed to do it, and he tried so hard not to. We kept telling him it was OK, but he just cried. We got him cleaned up and into bed and hopefully this will be the last of it. Although I doubt that is the case.

I'll just be here doing more laundry. And trying to decide if eco-friendly green cleaning products can also sanitize my memory of this incident every time I take a shower in my bathroom for the next year.

Double your pleasure

The doctor found not a single, but a double ear infection in Jack this morning. You could have knocked me over with that diagnosis. He wasn't pulling on his ears, he wasn't screaming in the middle of the night.

He woke at 8:45 this morning -- a sure tipoff he is ill -- and I am pretty sure it is the sickest I have ever seen this poor little boy. He was lethargic and coughed all night and his nose was running a disgusting amount and he just looked sick. Poor kid was up every hour during the night and I just felt so bad for him.

Thankfully we got in this morning and we were on our merry way with prescriptions for a once-a-day antibiotic and ear drops in no time at all. As an aside, how awesome is a one-dose-per-day medicine? No remembering the doses, no waking a sleeping child, no coercing them to swallow several times per day. I think all medication should henceforth be dispensed in this manner.

Anyway.

Doc says Jack should be back to normal in 48 hours and I am thrilled it's something non-communicable to the pregnant Mommy. Although I am sure I will find a way to catch an ear infection.

Fever update

Here we are in hour 60 of the Great Fever of 2007, and Jack's temperature was a solid 101 degrees before bedtime. That was down from a rousing high of 103.5 this afternoon. During the middle of the night, one of the 25 times he woke up crying, he was so hot to the touch I didn't even take his temperature because I didn't want to know what it was.

So there you have it.

My pediatrician wants to see kids who run a fever of 100.4 or higher for 72 hours, so methinks we'll be in the waiting room tomorrow afternoon. I don't know if there's anything they can do for him, but I really don't want to take a chance either. That's what co-pays are for!

The coughing continues unabated and his nose is running like a faucet and he was crabbier than all get out for most of the day. That's my favorite part. The whining and the shorter-than-normal attention span.

Again, I thank the God of The Sickies that this is happening now and not, oh, say, Monday afternoon. But could we please just have one week -- one measly week -- where someone in this three-person family is not sick? Apparently, too much to ask.

You give me fever

I was going to post about our visit to Santa last Friday or perhaps about being 34 weeks pregnant and hitting a wall and just wanting to sleep all day in one position so I don't have to actually turn over in bed or bend down.

Oh but then Jack came down with a fever and a cough and of course, there's no material like a sick child to just increase that readership.

Yesterday when I left for tea with my friends (I know! Tea! At The Drake, like I am all fancy-pants!) he was napping and fine. When Josh and Jack picked me up from tea, Jack sounded like he might be a little sick, that or he smoked a pack of Marbs and washed it down with some Jim Beam. Hard to tell.

We are visiting in Peoria this week and by the time we got here, it was 9:45 p.m. and my child was still awake. Awake with an odd little cough. Not anything major, but it sounded like what the doctor likes to call a "productive" cough, with a little phlegm in there.

Seriously, if you want to remove this blog from your favorites right now, I would not blame you. Who blogs about phlegm? Not to mention the posts that should be coming right up in the ensuing weeks about mucus plugs and placentas.

This morning, after a brief wakeup around 6 o'ungodlyclock, he slept in until 9:30 a.m.! I would chalk it up to the late bedtime, but I have to attribute it to the sickies now. Because shortly before lunch, I took his temperature and it was up to 100.5 and he seemed not himself.

Of course this did not stop me from taking him out to get new shoes. In my bad-Mommy defense, he has a blister on his big toe and the shoe situation has reached a critical stage. We also stopped at Panera, but he did eat soup, so I am chalking that one up to health benefits.

Before bathtime tonight, he was a whopping 102.5 and we dosed him with the Motrin again and put him to bed with a vaporizer, where he proceded to fall immediately asleep. Again, NOT NORMAL was flashing in neon lights on the door to the bedoom.

So we wait out the sickies and I give a silent thanks for this not being next Monday. Because I hear Santa passes by the chimneys that are marked "quarantine."

Again with the plague

How many times can I get sick in one year? Seriously, this is so annoying.

I have the plague again. So does Jack. Between the two of us, we went through an entire box of Kleenex yesterday. Today, I started coughing. That was after the fun of last night when I couldn't breathe lying down, making sleep impossible. Oh and I think my ear hurt today, but I am trying to pretend that didn't happen.

But soldier on, I did. I still got up with Jack. I still went to music class with him. I still went to the park. I still made and served him a dinner that he chewed and spit out instead of ingesting.

I know it sounds like I am complaining. That's because I am. I am sick of being sick and not being able to take anything for it because I am either pregnant or breastfeeding. I am pretty sure that of the last three years, I have spent approximately 28 months in a state where I could not take any over-the-counter medication. I just want some damn Nyquil so I can fall into a drug-induced sleep. Is that too much to ask?