Monday, March 23, 2009

Happy Spring!

Spring has sprung! At least for the first part of the week... Warmer weather included our first trip to the playground, which both kids enjoyed. We also got out the sidewalk chalk and the ride-on toys for an after supper block party. Well, if our house is a block. Then, when Scott returned from Cincinnati we took a family walk about town. Much fun!

Of course, by Saturday we were bursting out of the house. We'd had an unplanned four-day weekend after mama got a tummy bug. I was actually in pretty bad shape on Thursday. As in passing out while vomiting bad shape. I've only passed out twice in my life -- both times while vomiting and both times hitting my head on the toilet. Unfortunately, this time was witnessed by my two small and relatively helpless children. I'd spent most of the day on the couch except for an excursion where I brought Violet into the bathtub with me -- Milo was happily playing with his Star Wars guys and I needed to contain her long enough for me to close my eyes for a few, so she happily splashed and washed her hair while I melted into the tub. When the kids wanted to play outside, I brought a pillow out and laid on the deck near the sand table while they played around me. In retrospect, I should have called for help when it became obvious that I couldn't stand for more than two minutes without wanting to die.

Anyway, I was holding on for bedtime knowing that the minute I closed the kids' door, I was going to crawl over to my bed and conk out. I got them bathed (laid on the bathroom floor while they payed in the tub) and pajama-ed (with a five minute break between Violet's diaper and her jammies -- thank God Milo dressed himself) and managed to get up the stairs to their room. I sat down on the floor, propped against Milo's bed and Violet asked to nurse. She had just latched on when I realized that the exertion of carrying her up the stairs, heck probably just CLIMBING the stairs, was going to make me vomit again, so I plucked her off my breast, set her down gently, and dashed for the bathroom.

I think I heaved two or three times when everything went kind of gray and an alarm started ringing. I remember lying on the floor thinking, "There is a child in my dream and it is crying." I remember another part of my brain trying to convince me to stay asleep. But then I heard Milo's panicked voice calling, "Mom? Mom? Mom?" I snapped to alert and sat up, heaving a few more times. I felt him as he stepped over my legs, running into his room. Violet was in the doorway, screaming because she was mad that I'd stopped her from nursing. I couldn't do anything about any of it right then. I seemed to dry heave endlessly, but as soon as I stopped, I looked up and Violet was still screaming in the door frame, Milo was peeking out of his room and into the bathroom, eyes wide. I had a big glop of saliva on my arm, I must have drooled when I passed out. My shirt was damp, too, so I yanked it off and used it to wipe my arm. Violet ran from me when I approached her, clinging to the bookcase in her bedroom, not looking at me no matter how I enticed her.

I found a clean t-shirt and sat down right where I'd been sitting when I started to get sick. Milo instantly climbed into my lap with a Winnie-the-Pooh book. "Mom?" he asked, tentatively, "Mom? You scared me when you were throwing up and when you were lying on the floor."

"How long was I asleep on the floor?"

"Not long, you sat up real quick. But it was scary!"

"I know, baby... I didn't mean to scare you. I'm OK now, I promise!"

"OK. Can you read the Pooh book?"

Eventually Violet let me pick her up and nuzzle her tummy. I honestly think she was mostly just mad because I made her stop nursing, but I do know that Milo was scared. So was I, though. So was Scott -- he insisted I call for back-up as soon as possible, so Grandma Sue spent Friday helping me keep the kids out of trouble. I was still pretty weak Friday, but was feeling much better on Saturday -- hence the trip to the playground!

Oh, and in a note from Miss Extra-Cute: Toddlers should always smile and sing, "Happy! Happy! Happy!" It makes your parents want to give you anything... Last week at daycare, they celebrated a birthday and every since, Violet is walking around singing, "Happy! Happy! Happy!" It makes us all pretty darn happy to hear her!

Wednesday, March 18, 2009


I cannot believe that nearly a month has elapsed since my last entry. Bad girl!

It has been quite a month, too. Scott has made several trips -- Nashville (Ass-ville, according to Milo), Connecticut, and now Cincinnati. I've taken on increasing responsibilities at work, culminating in the visit of a guest speaker/author/physician today. And we have interviewed three candidates in four working days for my supervisor's position. My first choice was offered the position and she *eagerly* accepted on the spot. I am thrilled!

Violet is talking more and more. Last night, she had a fit because while the kids were bathing in the tub, I was pawing through the clean clothes in the dryer to find clothing suitable for an indoor day at daycare. In the process of looking for clean clothes, I pulled out a pair of her new pajamas, then put them back in the dryer. When the kids were done with their baths, I was drying her off, Milo was shrugging into his new pajamas and I reached for the pair she'd worn the night before. She saw them, glared at me, crossed her arms so that I couldn't slip them into her sleeves, and said, "No! Nunnah! Nunnah!"

Clearly confused, I said, "It's time for your jammies!"

"Noooo! Nunnah! Nunnah!"

I realized she wanted something else. I let her down from my lap and she scrambled up the step and into the bathroom, where she pointed at the dryer, calling, "Nunnah! Nunnah!" I fished out the new jammies and held them up to her. She beamed, nodding and approving, "Huh! Huh!" Apparently, eighteen months is the time at which girls become insistent on their appearance...

Milo, on the other hand, is finding himself seeing the world through the eyes of his best friend. Particularly when it comes to what he's wearing. If I suggest something, he'll answer, "Yes! Mark likes that shirt!" or "No. Mark doesn't like that..." He feels too young to be concerned about what the world is thinking of him, but this anxiety has been coming on for about a year and I don't see it abating. He is still very afraid to enter a room full of strangers for fear that they are looking t him. He is fine entering or leaving s store or a place where he is anonymous, but anywhere I need to introduce him makes him petrified. He tenses his entire body, flushes, and climbs me like a tree.

I don't want him to be so concerned with the rest of the world -- but he wants to do things right and worries that he'll make mistakes. I try to point out to him all of the times I've made mistakes and have no issue in making mistakes, correcting myself, and pointing it out to him, but his inner perfectionist is growing louder and louder. I know how he feels -- I was that kid, and so was Scott. Scott doesn't believe me, but I think that his intellectual development is just enough ahead of his emotional development that he's struggling because he understands more than his emotions can handle. He is a bright and perceptive child. He asks outstanding questions about his world and observes so many things that I miss or overlook. But I think with that ability comes caution and he's very cautions of new situations. He doesn't like to try anything until he's certain that when he DOES try, he'll get it right. So we've introduced the concept of practicing to him. It helps some.

Violet, on the other hand, seems to have not a care in the world. Oh, sure she's got opinions and prefers it when she gets her way, but her general attitude sort of suggests that she knows no one is really paying THAT much attention to her (in the grand scheme of things) and that as long as she looks like she knows what she's doing, she is probably doing it right. I never really see her fail at anything, though, because she has an unusual combination of persistence and patience. She'll keep at it until she gets it because she is generally not frustrated by much. She's a very capable toddler, for certain, dressing herself and feeding herself -- she prefers an open cup these days to a sippy and properly uses a spoon and fork (most of the time).

It is so very interesting to me to watch them become the people that they are -- someone said to me today, "Having another child seems crazy at this point -- I feel like I just got this one figured out!" I guess if you have them close enough together you don't get that feeling of having figured a child out -- I know I haven't gotten Milo completely figured out and certainly not Miss Independent. Then again, I'm not sure I have ME figured out yet...