rivka

I wrote a Christmas pageant this year, as I have done before. If you have an appetite for what is, by nature, a schmaltzy genre, take a look under the cut.

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When we arrived at the ER, Colin lay listlessly in my arms. He spoke in a whisper, and only a few words at a time. (Mostly "Mama?") His eyes were sunken into his face. When he cried - which he barely did; he mostly just lay there and stared - he didn't produce any tears.

When we left the ER two hours later, Colin was marching around the room singing "Seventy-Six Trombones."

That's the difference ten ounces of Pedialyte and half a Zofram (anti-nausea tablet) makes.

I don't know why he took Pedialyte in the hospital but not at home. They had the especially gross unflavored kind, even. But he guzzled the bottles down and asked for "more please" again and again - first in a whisper, and eventually with an indignant shout as he banged the empty bottle. Mercifully, it kept him IV-free. He produced the wet diaper necessary for discharge after the fifth two-ounce bottle.

He is sleeping peacefully now. We ought to be able to manage the rest of this at home: clear liquids and then bland foods, followed by a more normal diet tomorrow. They gave me an extra tab of Zofram if he needs it - or if Alex comes down with it next.

Every medical person we encountered in the last 18 hours has been fantastic.

Dr. Winkelstein, the doctor on call last night. We first spoke at 5:30. She told me to call back at 8 with an update, and after we'd checked in then she strongly encouraged me to call her in the middle of the night if I needed to. I did call her at 2:30am and she was awesome. Reassuring and not a bit tired-sounding. She helped me decide that it would be safe to wait until 6am to take him in to the ER. At 8, just as she was going off-shift, she called me to see how he was doing. When I didn't answer, she called the ER to see if we were there and if Colin was okay. The first three calls were just her doing her job, but that last one? Was the one that made her outstanding.

At the ER we didn't have to wait at all. There was a nurse at my side by the time we finished giving Colin's name and birthdate. Everyone went out of their way to greet Alex and say something friendly and supportive to her. (Mostly "wow, your mother is so lucky to have your help." Which I am.) They all listened to me very carefully. The doctor explained not only what we were going to try first, but also what we were going to try second and third, so that I had the whole protocol clear in my mind. Nobody made me feel like an idiot for not being able to get him rehydrated orally at home. The clerk didn't come to get the rest of our registration information (and proof of insurance, and copayment) until after Colin was markedly better. And - proof that they listened to me carefully - when they gave us our discharge instructions both the nurse and the doctor went out of their way to emphasize that breastmilk is considered a clear liquid and that Colin should nurse as much as he likes. Plenty of doctors don't keep that in mind for infants, let alone almost-two-year-olds.

I am so impressed with, and so grateful for, the care we received. Rehydration is pretty much a medical no-brainer, but to me that makes the good patient care even more impressive. They kept in mind that it wasn't a routine, worry-free procedure for us.

About five o'clock Michael and I had a horrifying thought: when had we last changed Colin's diaper? In Williamsburg, that's when. Nine hours ago.

It was barely damp.

It turns out that when you're the kind of nursing mom who doesn't feel letdown, it's possible to nurse all day without noticing that your baby isn't drinking much.

Now we're doing a teaspoon of Pedialyte every three minutes. We're supposed to call the doctor back at eight.

When Colin threw up last night he had a mouthful of food, and we figured that he choked. He seemed to feel perfectly fine.

Then this morning we took him down for the hotel breakfast and he threw up massive amounts of what seemed to be undigested breastmilk. All over the table. 90 minutes before our train.

He had dry heaves at the train station and threw up the few sips of water we'd given him.

I'm nursing him because he needs hydration rather desperately, but I fear the likely result. We've got a five-hour train journey on Amtrak's busiest day of the year. Because it's the end of our trip, Michael and I are down to one clean shirt each, and Colin has one clean outfit and one pair of pajamas. We do, at least, have a good supply of wet wipes and plastic grocery bags.

I wish to say, for the record, that I am not having fun.

Ironically, I was feeling vastly better for most of today. I've been going to work since Friday, but today I actually felt like I had a reasonable amount of energy rather than sitting at my desk exhausted. I felt normal. That lifted my spirits dramatically.

( tmi )

I have no ideas for Christmas this year. Zero.

Inspire me. What do you think Santa should bring my kids? What should I ask for?

Person 1: We typically get our books from the library. I had never considered that some books may be banned from the American Library Association. I am sure that some of those books are extremely thought provoking reads. We are currently reading The Giver by Lois Lowry. I just happened to pick it up at a Yard Sale. What a great book. Our library will not carry that series, so I ordered the sequels from Amazon. I can see why it might be banned. It is sad and while I would not want my child to pick this up in the Children's section of the library and read it on their own, we are thoroughly enjoying reading it together.

Person 2: The ALA doesn't ban books-as a matter of fact it is strongly opposed to the banning of books. From their web site:

The ALA promotes the freedom to choose or the freedom to express one's opinions even if that opinion might be considered unorthodox or unpopular and stresses the importance of ensuring the availability of those viewpoints to all who wish to read them.

They do however maintain lists of books that have been banned and challenged. You can check out their web site and search "banned books" or "challenged books".

Person 1: This is good to know. I just found it on the Banned Books List and assumed it was "banned". I had never come across this before so I had no idea how it worked.

This massive misconception would fall more on the side of pure entertainment to me if Person 1 wasn't homeschooling her kids.

Home from work for the second day in a row.

Yesterday I felt okay in the morning. In the afternoon I had a fair amount of coughing, shortness of breath, and exhaustion. The evening was rough. This morning already I've had a bunch of coughing and wheezing. Now Michael has taken the kids to the science center and I am being very quiet and sitting very still. That helps a lot.

I remind myself that the steroids haven't even had 48 hours to work.

I'm a little nervous about this evening, because Michael has a board meeting and I'm going to have to get both kids to bed on my own. If I'm totally hardcore about resting all afternoon, I think I can do it. Alex is old enough to be helpful.

Here's how you can tell that Colin is not the oldest child in his family: at 21 months, his vocabulary includes the phrases "It's not fair!" and "I win!" And even more so: he instantly responds to someone else's "I win!" with "No, I win!"

That's what having a big sister does for you.

My last developmental update was three months ago, which is about a century ago in toddler-develompent time. One of the things that held me back from posting last month was that I couldn't get Colin to hold still long enough for me to take any pictures. I had about a hundred blurry pictures of toddler-in-motion. He's a busy, active little guy. He likes to trot around after Alex and do what she's doing. He likes to go up and down our many flights of stairs - walking, not crawling anymore. He likes to climb up on the furniture so he can reach high-up things he's not supposed to touch. He carries our little child-sized chairs from the playroom through the living room, hall, dining room, and kitchen so that he can reach treats on the pantry shelves.

Colin has an unnerving ability to figure out how to work electronics. He doesn't just pick up the camera and press buttons at random; he picks it up, turns it on, and takes a picture. He's figured out how to unlock my cell phone. He stands on a chair at Alex's computer, opens up the CD drives, puts in CDs, and closes the drives. He can turn on the CD player in his room and push play. We have to keep the printer unplugged, because otherwise Colin turns it on and wreaks havoc with the touch screen menus.

He loves trains and trucks and airplanes. We found Alex's old train set in the basement recently, and within about five minutes of bringing it upstairs it became Colin's favorite toy. He has an intense relationship with a small stuffed bunny named Bunny. He likes to have grownups build block structures he can play with. He likes Alex's Polly Pockets, which is particularly tedious because all he knows to do with them is bring them to a grownup to be dressed and undressed. Repeatedly. In the same outfit. He likes to watch YouTube videos; when he sees us at our computers he comes running over to ask "Watch boom de yada, watch dancing." He still loves to have us do Google Image searches for airplanes.

He desperately wants to take ballet. Every week when Alex takes her class: "Colin ballet class! Colin ballet class toooo!" Alex's class keeps the door closed, fortunately, so Colin stands in the doorway of the big kids' class next door and stares and stares. Later, he holds onto the furniture and moves his legs in quasi-balletic motion. It is tragic that he has another full year and a half before Colin ballet class too.



He loves books. He loves the same books over and over. The most common sentence that comes out of Colin's mouth is "Read-this me book please!" When we finish a book he likes to hear it again immediately. He's developed a new technique of turning pages backward until we get to the first page, apparently hoping that this way we won't notice that we're read-this book again please. He loves those informational books that have pages crammed full of labeled pictures. Thanks to these books, he has words in his vocabulary like Eurostar and flamingo and giant front-end loader. He also loves Go Dog Go and Knuffle Bunny and books about trucks and trains. He can recite a few favorite books from beginning to end. Sometimes I'll hear him just telling bits of a story to himself: "Now fussy, daddy. A choice. Bawled, waaaa! Boneless."

He likes to sing. Because of what he gets exposed to in our house, he mostly sings show tunes. It's a bit startling to hear a toddler break out at the dinner table with "Congress! Good God!" - until you realize how many times he's listened to the 1776 soundtrack. Now that The Music Man is Alex's new favorite musical, Colin is starting to pick up bits of "Goodnight, My Someone" and "Seventy-Six Trombones." He doesn't say any nursery rhymes or sing baby songs, so perhaps we need to shift our musical focus a bit.

He speaks very well for his age. "Colin go downstairs by self." "Mama carry the boy." "Want that one over there." "Wake up Mama! Mama shower. Daddy make coffee, Colin push button." "Fall down, bonk head." He meets any suggestion of a transition with an emphatic "No! Play more!" But he does have exquisite manners: "Frozen grapes please, Mommy. Thank-you-welcome." Or at dinner: "No thank you green beans, Mommy, don't care for it."

He sort-of sings the ABCs but, as far as I know, doesn't recognize any letters beyond C-for-Colin. He can count, though. He rote-counts up to fourteen or so very well, but I've also seen him count out objects - moving tiles from one pile to another, saying one number per pile, up to eight or nine. He knows his colors (except for some brown-black confusion) and his animals and his animal sounds. When Alex is doing math, Colin likes to stand on a chair next to her with a math book and pencil of his own. While I work with her, he scribbles earnestly on his page and murmurs math words. "What equals? ...plus two... seven, eight, fourteen." God help me if I give him blank paper and crayons instead of a math book, at math time. (Fortunately we use a free-to-print-out curriculum.)

He eats well, but is nevertheless tiny and skinny. He loves meat of any description, and will eat it faster than I can cut bites. And he loves vegetables: broccoli, carrots, cucumbers, peas, bell peppers. I have seen him eat half a cucumber at a time. I've recently cut back on his nursing, so now he's nursing 4-5 times a day instead of 15+ times a day. He still really loves to nurse.

His sleep continues to suck. I don't want to discuss it.

But he does make a mighty fine giraffe.

Colin, clinging to Michael: Want Mommy carry boy.
Michael: hands Colin off to me.
Colin, clinging to me, head on my shoulder: Want Daddy.
Me: Do you want Mommy or Daddy?
Colin: Want BUNNY.

Once he had Bunny in his arms he was perfectly content. Mommy, Daddy, whatever.



(He starts out in a crib, but at some point in the early morning hours he winds up in our bed. So does Bunny.)