Ton of Feathers vs. Ton of Bricks

Lola has eaten nearly all the cat litter so I had to go to Target at lunch time and buy more. The 30 pound box of Super Scoop was on sale. Hooray. I love spending lunch at Target. Looking at the box I thought "hey, that box of litter weighs as much as Kate". Then I hefted it up to put it in the cart and I thought "Holy crap this box of cat litter weighs more than both kids, the dog and the cat together!" But it doesn't. There's no note on the box of litter that says "30 pounds...that's Canadian, of course" or anything like that. It's just that picking up my child just seems easier, even when there's flailing going on, than picking up a huge box of cat waste collector. I guess that's what Scott & Russell were kind of talking about when they wrote "He ain't heavy, he's my brother".

Thumbs Up

Yesterday we went to lunch with our somewhat reclusive friends, David and Susan. Kate hasn't seen them since she was Sarah's age and Sarah had never met them. They live, oh, 3 miles away from us, maybe. Happily, Thumbs Up, a diner we've long loved, opened a location about 2 blocks from David and Susan's house and we were able to lure them over there with the smell of fresh bacon.

When we got there they were already outside, staring wordlessly at the "sculpture" in front of the diner. It's this weird little stick figure type thing carrying a cup of coffee. We arrived with all our kid crap we're forced to carry with us any time we want to so much as go to the bathroom, plus the two kids. Kate had already managed to completely rumple her pig tails and Sarah was looking humiliated in her adorable bunny ear hat (Thank-you, Chris and Sonya). David and Susan admitted right away to being hung over. Our lives have taken very different paths.

Kate, who is usually delightful in a restaurant setting, was bouncing off the walls. If she sensed at all that David and Susan are not kid people by any stretch of the imagination, it did not deter her. We sat in a booth and while Sarah was content in her little portable highchair at the end of the table (we sometimes forgot she was there), Kate was a frenetic blur the entire time. She was situated between Susan and me on the bouncy booth seat and she was on everything. Much of the time I was unable to see or hear Susan because I had a 2 and 1/2 year old in my ear. Literally. We managed to have a good visit regardless and I have to admit to being somewhat amused by Susan's polite horror when Kate got too close to her with greasy, peppery french fry hands. Kate was so spastic I wondered if she even noticed David and Susan were there at all.

She did notice. Six hours later, while twirling around the kitchen floor and stopping to hug our legs and introduce herself "Hello! My name is Kate! Your name is Mommy!" she said "I had fun with David and Susan today!" I was glad to hear it. They probably went home, took some Advil and thanked their lucky stars they opted not to have kids.

Feats of strength and yeast

Last night we enjoyed a generous Christmas gift from our friends Rusty and Jennifer and, along with them, Eric and Raigan and Steve and Joy, we all went to Cirque du Soleil. I'd never been. It was delightful. I imagine it's much like what Twin Peaks would've been like minus the murder, drug abuse and child molestation. But still - midgets and weird dream sequences. As we were leaving Jeremiah and I agreed we should really be expecting more out of Kate's YMCA gymnastics classes. She's had, like, 11 of them now. I've yet to see her hang from a giant chandelier 15' above the ground by the back of her skull. Although, in all fairness, we typically use the 50 minutes she's in class to work out and don't watch her.

After far too few hours of sleep, I was off to enjoy another gift! Jeremiah got me a gift certificate to take a 4 hour class on baking breads and making soups for my birthday. In a very different way, it was as enjoyable as Cirque du Soleil. Taught by Cordon Bleu chef Doris Koplin, the class filled with the desire to bake bread non-stop. Doris was a delight and the bread was easily the best bread I've ever tasted. That's not just hyperbole for blogging sake. That was some good damn bread. I'm making more tomorrow.

There IS a monster in the house...

And it does have blue eyes. Tonight Kate behaved so horribly at bedtime I almost didn't recognize her. I tried every ploy I could conceive to alter her behavior, to bring her back to her senses, but finally she was so out of hand I was left with nothing but shock value. I smacked her bare little bottom. Just hard enough to leave a white, then red mark on one cheek. The instant regret I anticipated never arrived. Especially since...she laughed. She laughed when I spanked her. We're doomed.

Peek-A-Boo

Sarah has started playing Peek-a-Boo with us. She does it when we go upstairs to get her out of her crib in the morning. She does it when we're changing her diaper.

She did it last night when I placed the blanket on her while she was hanging out in her bouncy seat. She thinks it's hilarious. She pulls the blanket up over her face and then quickly pulls it back down and, even if you don't gleefully say "PEEK-A-BOO!" for her, she laughs and laughs and laughs. Piaget would say it's because she's developing object permanence, but I say it's because she's a Provost/Drueke and as a clan we know funny. And come on, that's some funny stuff right there.

Also, just like her older cousin, Rosellen, Sarah turns out to have the nose-biting gene. Now that Ro is a dignified 10 year old she doesn't bite people's noses anymore. But I bet she still harbors a secret longing. I certainly wouldn't get in a barroom brawl with her, not without nose protection. Sarah's no different - she'll take your honker right off your face if you're not careful. See? She's got her daddy's nose.

You Should See the Other Guy

Here's Kate's shiner on Day 2. This is a testament to how well ibuprofen brings down swelling, because this little kid's eye was swollen clean shut when she woke up. I knew I should've taken the picture then! As you can see, she's handling the injury well. In this photo, she's mid-sentence in her little "I love oatmeal" song she was tooting extemporaneously with her mouth full. Speaking of tooting, I must say, I do make a mean batch of oatmeal.

Hand-Me-Downs

Couch Trip

Last night we were at Steve's birthday party. It was lovely - neighborhood children playing together and eating the multi-colored gold fish and bumps on a log Joy set out for them, warming fire in the fireplace, everybody calmly chatting and sipping their beverages when it happened. Kate tripped and hit the bottom of Steve & Joy's couch with her face. We're big on down-playing these types of things because we want her to learn that life's full of these little setbacks and you must brush yourself off and move on. But seeing that fall I thought "that hurt" and leapt to my feet to pick her up. When I did I saw she was bleeding. A lot. From her eye.

"Life's full of these little setbacks" I told myself, trying not to cry as I rushed her to the bathroom with half the party attendees at my heels. Of course I know that even the most superficial head wounds bleed profusely but now I also know that such information is meaningless when the blood is spewing from your kid's head. Joy got her an ice pack, Steve got her Bactine, Jeremiah ran next door with Catherine and Margaret's mommy, Kore, to fetch some children's Motrin, and I pressed the cloth-covered ice up against Kate's injured eye while she nuzzled into my shoulder and got blood on me. Karolina, who's a P.A. and had just arrived, came in to take a look. The cut is on her eyelid, right in the fleshy part below the brow. Karolina pulled it apart to check the depth (I completely lost my poker face at the point, but Kate didn't even flinch.) There was discussion about the fact that it could use a couple stitches but in the end we decided that if we went to the ER on a Sunday night we'd end up waiting so long it would start to heal up anyway. She mentioned superglue might be an option. I was too squeamish to try that, although in retrospect, it probably would've done a good job. We kept pressure on it for awhile, Kate still leaning on me, but insisting her daddy hold her hand.

She never stopped bleeding completely while we were there and I spent a lot of time following her around with a damp cloth, trying to clean her up. She decided that she'd rather have the pasta Aunt JoJo offered than go home and within 20 minutes, she was running the length of the house with Ella and Ky, all of them squealing with delight. I remain horrified and irrationally guilt-ridden. This morning while I was cleaning her wound again she told me, reassuringly, "I'm OK, mommy. I had fun at the tea party!"

Walking the Walk

I have taken leave of my senses. In the fall of 2005 I did the Avon Walk for Breast Cancer up in NYC. It changed my life - I will spare you the sappy details. When I embarked upon the journey to do that walk, I thought it was something I'd do once. I wondered about the people doing it who had already done it several times. Post walk - no more wondering. (Here's a shot of me at the closing ceremony in 05. I'm the one in the pink shirt.) So this year, no longer pregnant, I didn't just register to do a walk. I didn't just choose a 3-Day instead of a 2-Day. I volunteered to captain a team for my company. Now I'm committed to the rigorous training and the fundraising for myself as well as organizing training walks and fundraising events as well as helping maintain the excitement for an entire team. We already have 13 people who've enthusiastically said they'll join either as walkers or crew members. Some have already started training. The walk isn't until Oct. 12-14th.

This is the paragraph in which I shamelessly abuse my blog to beg you, gentle readers, for help. Yes, I will craft a carefully worded letter that explains why so much money needs to be raised for this cause. I will send it to everyone I know. But I think all of you already realize how important this cause is. For my part, I don't want to outlive a daughter because she succumbed to breast cancer, as both my grandmothers had to. And I don't want my daughters to lose their mother to this awful disease, as 7 of my cousins did. Please help put an end to breast cancer once and for all.

The 3-Day is sponsored by the Susan G Komen Foundation, one of the most reputable groups funding breast cancer research today. So you know if you make a donation to them, it will help either save the life of someone you know that's already fighting breast cancer or maybe even spare someone you love from developing the disease. To help me reach my goal to raise at least $2,200.00 please go here and make a donation. Then give yourself a little hug. You deserve it. If you can't give, and you can't do a walk, I'd love it if you just cheered me on. Know someone else that might want to make a donation? Send them this post! Thank-you!!!

So I'm standing at the kitchen sink, washing dishes, while Kate is doing laps around the kitchen-dining room-living room circuit and Sarah is stone cold chillin' in her bouncy seat. Doppler effect squealing behind me, adorable cooing next to me, NPR news in the air. I hear Kate stop. She is standing slightly behind me, silently. Then I hear her say "eeewwwh, it's YUCK!"

Without turning around I say to her "what's "YUCK", Kate?" which is met with silence. So I turn around and see her squatting, eye to orifice, pointing at Lola's butthole. It's obvious she's giving serious consideration to sticking her finger in there. Lola is blissfully unaware about the unpleasantness she's in for. I hold my breath because if she's going to do it, I'm too far away to stop it. Time stands still. Lola stands still. Kate stands back up and gets back to running laps.

It reminded me of that story Kevin emailed us about the Russian scientist whose equipment told him the USA had launched a missile at the Soviet Union. His instincts told him the report was incorrect and for a few moments he did nothing. Then it turned out his technology was misinforming him and his pause had prevented our nuclear annihilation while we slept, unaware of it all. You know, like how Lola never knew she was about to get a finger up her butt. It's practically the same thing.

When I was very small I used to think there was a monster living under my bed with a giant pair of scissors, waiting to cut my feet off at the ankles as I climbed into or out of bed. Apparently they were not very good scissors, though, because as long as I was wearing socks the monster could not cut my feet off. I wore socks to bed religiously. Later my parents bought me a trundle bed and that crowded the scissor monster out, though for awhile just my toes were in some peril. Sometimes I would lie awake in bed and wonder if Batman and Robin might come rescue me from the horrible beast. I had a crush on Burt Ward.

Once I was safely in bed with my socks on, I could switch my concentration to lying just so on the upper left side of my head. I have a big cowlick there and when I was small and my hair still baby-fine, there wasn't enough weight there to keep it down. I was always waking up with a chunk of hair looking as though I'd been shocked and terrified - but only sort of. So I thought if I could just sleep on that part of my head hard enough it would keep my hair down. It never did.

I don't think I ever shared any of that information with my parents and now, when I tiptoe into the girls' room to check on them, I wonder what kind of crazy stuff they think about as they nod off to sleep at night. Tonight at dinner, while cramming her food into her mouth, Kate informed me that there is a monster in the house and it's blue with blue eyes. I gasped and earnestly asked if the monster carried a cartoonishly large pair of scissors. She just sort of blinked at me (email me for further lessons on giving your child nightmares). A few minutes later Kate said "there are no monsters here!" authoritatively. But just in case, I am wearing socks.

Captain's Log - Star date Jan. 17

This isn't going to be about Star Trek, so put your pants back on Star Trek fanatics. It's just that while keeping my web log, I can't help but picture Kirk with his mini-recorder.

I'm home at the moment because Jeremiah gave me the debilitating stomach bug he had on Sunday and Monday. (note to self: stop reminding Jeremiah that what's his is mine). So, since my stomach hurts too much to go lie down I thought I'd post the darling pictures from the other day when Aunt JoJo and Uncle Steve took the girls on their maiden voyage to The Varsity. Here you go!

And, just for Margie, here are a couple shots of the girls in the matching cowgirl dresses she got them. Isn't Kate ladylike?

I've been very busy with the 24 Season Premier and A Short Meme

Yes, I have some thrilling updates regarding Kate & Sarah with photos to share. But for the past 2 evenings I've been very busy watching the first 4 hours of an all new 24. Frankly, I'm a little worried about Jack. So anyway, I'll get those photos posted tonight, I promise.

Meanwhile, at Kevin's request, here's a religion meme to pass the time. Don't know what a meme (rhymes with dream) is? Here's a nice summation from Brent Sibly at the University of Canterbury's Dept of Philosophy:

Memes offer us a way to understand our psychology and the evolution of our
thoughts, technology, artifacts, music, and art. They can be defined as small
sets of instructions that produce behavior. When enough of these instructions
get together in a brain, a mind develops. Such a mind can be understood and
predicted by looking at its composite memes.

OK, so here we go, we'll call this Kevin's meme (Kevin you better respond to this in the comments or I'm coming after you). Everyone else, please take a moment to sate our curiosity. No judgements, just wondering.

What is God? - "God" is the metaphorical embodiment of the divine; a single name for all that is good and powerful

Where is God? - There is God in everything and everyone, even if you'd swear some people contain no good at all

What does God do? - God allows us to exist as a community, to be connected in some way to every other thing in our world and to ourselves as sentient beings

The Land of Milk and Honey

As part of the battle against Kate's eczema, I've been bathing her in a concoction that involves unscented castille soap, heavy cream, honey and 1 drop of lavender essential oil. I fill her tub with tepid water and this bath and it feels sooooo niiiiice. I like to hang my hands in her bath while she's splashing it all out onto the floor because the water just feels so soft, almost...fluffy. Kind of the way I imagine Rick James keeps his bed. I never seem to have time to take one of these baths myself, despite always feeling tempted to climb in the tub with Kate.

Last night, I made time. We'd just finished watching a movie and since it wasn't a school night, I opted to stay up late (read: after 10PM). There was a fair amount of cream & honey bath left from Kate's last bath in the fridge, so I filled our jetted tub and when the whole bathroom was steamy, I greedily dumped in all of the remaining bath stuff and a drop of lavender oil. I warmed up the neck wrap Chris & Sonya sent for my birthday, grabbed my fabulous spa robe Steve gave me for Christmas and prepared to ease into the lap of luxury. It did require easing because I'd used exceptionally hot water. I know it's bad for my skin but I don't care. Ah, the fluffy water and it's all mine! I turned on the jets.

It was at this point that I realized water as hot as the water heater is set... curdles milk. Almost instantly, big cauliflower head-shaped piles of yellowish foam surrounded me, gathering mostly at my feet and behind my back. This might not have been so disturbing had the movie we just watched not been Slither (most enjoyable, I highly recommend it). It began to cling to the sides of the tub. I would not be dissuaded! I would RELAX! When Peeping Jeremiah stepped in he found me striking the sexiest pose I could manage while skimming cottage cheese off the bathwater and tossing it (with dubious success) into the little trash can next to the tub. What with the honey, this stuff clung to everything in sight. To my surprise and delight, Jeremiah did not recoil in disgust (reason # 243 on the "why he's a keeper" list). He said something like "so that happened" and, smiling sweetly, backed slowly out of the room.

I made it about 10 minutes in the giant bowl of spoiled milk before I relented and had to get that stuff off me. I plucked the plug off the drain with my toe and very carefully stood up in the dangerously slick tub. Reflecting sourly on how not relaxing cleaning the bathtub after this was going to be, I turned on the shower. Now I know that the amount of water that fits in my tub is only slightly more than the amount of water that fits in our water heater. To muffled cries of "SON OF [redacted] [redacted][redacted][redacted]..." I showered all the goop off me with the icy cold water. Then I cleaned the tub. Aaaaahhhh, just what the doctor ordered. I must say, though, my skin felt fantastic!

At last I collapsed, exhausted, into bed where my sweetie uttered the words every wife longs to hear - "You smell like Greek yogurt".

Welcome Sylvia!

Here is my brand, spakin' new 2nd cousin, Sylvia, being held by her big sister Evelyn. Sylvia made her debut on the 10th. My cousin Lauren (mommy) is reportedly doing fine - really, we should ask that question in a week or so, we may get a different answer from her.

Sylvia and Eva are Kate & Sarah's first cousins once removed. I know this because after the parade of cousins the day after Christmas, my parents, brother, sister-in-law and husband (see? I can easily describe my relationship with all those people) had a discussion about it involving the dictionary and the drawing of schematics. I believe we've got it down now. So anyway, congratulations Lauren & Jay on the birth of Kate & Sarah's 1st cousin once removed!

Cleaning up my act

"I want surfaces, darling, SURFACES!"

For months now (I'd say exactly 5 and 1/2 of them) I've been complaining that I can't get the hang of this 2 kids at once thing. Mostly I miss being able to head off to the gym on a regular basis. I had a trainer for awhile and he used to let me hit and kick stuff. In addition to being a good workout, it provided a delightful release. I found that hitting the big punching bag until I was exhausted made me feel a euphoric sense of love for mankind. (Pot can have that effect, too, but it won't give you defined triceps.) Now I can't get it together enough to have personal time with the punching bag at the gym. In addition, the house always seems in unpleasant disarray and so do I. And the dog stinks. Sometimes the kids do, too. Now I've said too much.

Anyway, instead of telling me to stop that infernal whining when I brought this up to her, Heather very politely turned me on to The FLYlady. I've never been one for that kind of thing, but I figured since I wasn't mastering life on my own I could use the help. First, let me just say, this woman is unbearable. I think I could remain in her company for maybe 15 minutes before developing a twitch. Twenty minutes if I had a good buzz on. I think she's the real-life Jean Teasdale. Despite her rainbows and unicorns cheerfulness, I am reading her book Sink Reflections and have been implementing many of her recommendations with happy results. The best thing about her book, though, is that as I read it I realize I'm way more together than the audience she's addressing! These people are apparently living in complete squalor and are miserable about it and in need of medication. I'm worried about cobwebs up in the office that I never seem to get around to removing and she's saying "move the gigantic pile of dishes in your sink out of the sink and drain the disgusting water that's in there..." I don't have a big pile of dishes or any disgusting water in my sink, so I get to skip ahead a couple paragraphs, and that's reward enough for me.

Still, I like the way she's laid out the plan for managing to keep the house in working order in between going to work and caring for kids. I am giving it a whirl. Jeremiah's been a big help, too. The main goal here is to have the house, myself, the pets, and Kate & Sarah put together in a systematic enough manner that soon...very soon, I can escape to yoga class. Namaste FLYlady and Jean Teasdale!

Non sequitur

I've just returned from a new age bookstore near my office called The Phoenix and The Dragon. They had neither a phoenix nor a dragon. Not even a bird and a lizard. They had a cat. In their defense, it is a black cat. Still, I was disappointed.

Something to get excited about

Not once, but twice this weekend, Kate pooped in the potty. And not just because I happened to have her on the potty at the time, oh no! She told me she had to use the potty and she produced poop! Jeremiah and I both did our best to behave as though she'd been recognized by the MacArthur Foundation with the cheering and the hugging and the hey, hey, hey. She seemed pleased. What she really cares about, though, is getting to flush the toilet. She often flushes it for no reason at all or if one of us is sitting on it. No amount of "No Kate! WAIT WAIT WAIT" has coaxed her out of the latter situation yet, but we're working on that.

Kate's poop itself is still an issue. We called the doctor yesterday and she seemed to think that 8 days of diarrhea was not alarming and told us to call back if it lasted more than 10. This is annoying to me especially because Kate really wants to eat some pizza. Instead, she's been eating yogurt, bananas, applesauce, small amounts of pasta and the occasional piece of peanut butter toast over and over and over. (And yes, mom, this is what the doctor told us to feed her.) It's even making me bored. Kate keeps saying "I want some bunny rabbits! I want pizza! I want a smoothie!" I've managed to surmount the smoothie request by making it with yogurt and banana and precious little else. The main problem is that she wants to eat whatever we're eating and I don't want to eat any of those things and it's becoming too challenging to only eat when she's not looking. That kid can sense mommy-eating-a-snack from any location in the house no matter how surreptitious I try to be. She must get that from her father, who always seems to know when I'm changing shirts. At any rate, I have a whole new respect for the affirmation "Solid!" now.

...And more exciting stuff

Since she's now sitting up unassisted, and since she's been eyeing our food wantonly for several days now, we gave Sarah her first solid food today. We won't know until the next diaper whether any of it actually got in her.

Also, we think we may have figured out why Kate's having diarrhea...

The promised photographic evidence

Hi Mommy!Look, Mom, one hip!Whoa-oa-oo-uhAh...this is pretty comfy, actually...Hey, something worth sitting back up for! What's that Mommy? Don't finish my sentences in prepositions? OK...the giraffe is something worth sitting up for, Mommy.

Sarah Sits Up

Sarah, whose poop and skin are still normal, has begun sitting up all own her own! Finally, all the baby pilates has paid off! I do not currently have photographic evidence of this claim, but I'll get it and post it here, I promise. That way, when people say to you "don't even try to act like that baby sits up on her own" you can email them the photo and say "in your face!"

At daycare this morning, I took her pudgy little hands and pulled her up from her lying down position while saying "Sarah sits up!" It's a game we play. She giggles. She often confuses Sarah sits up with Sarah spits up, but she thinks that's funny, too. Anyway, today she just remained sitting up without me touching her! She sat like that for at least 45 seconds before teetering forward and doing a face plant on the mat in front of her because babies are too stupid to put their hands out in front of them when they're falling. She's a tough little tyke, though. She didn't cry or anything, just kinda laid there for a second then cooed as if to say "um...a little help here, people". So, that made for an exciting morning.

Keepin it real

Kate's got some nasty eczema. She's had it since she was just tiny thing. I'm not all that surprised, Jeremiah and I both are a couple of dry, dry people. I'd never been afflicted with this dreaded skin condition though, until I conceived Sarah. It's how I knew I was pregnant, actually. I noticed a small spot on my left shin had starting itching like a hardcore gambler on the way to Vegas. As soon as I subconsciously started to scratch it I thought "this is it, I'm knocked up again." I figured it would go away when I delivered but, much like the pregnancy fat, it's not only stuck around but gotten worse.

So, as I've been trying various treatments on Kate, I've tried them on myself, too. That's how I discovered that the reason Kate started crying and refusing to let me touch her with plain old lotion was that the spots she'd scratched with exceptional vigor burned when I put lotion on them.

During the past 2 years I have used the following products and behaviors in an attempt to get rid of this affliction that makes my baby itch and hurt and look a little funny:

Bathe kid only every 3rd day or so (sticky kid)
Aveeno oatmeal lotion (no noticeable results)
Aveeno lotion for dry skin and eczema (no noticeable results)
Alba Very Emollient Body Lotion (nada)
Oatmeal & Chamomile bath (home made, nice effects for a couple hours)
The first level of steroid cream (nope)
Elidel (still itchy...)
The second level of steroid cream (no difference)
Aquaphor (puleeze)
Eucerin (so greasy!)
Cetaphil (nice, but that's the stuff that started burning)
The third level of steroid cream (still afraid to put it on my kid)
Scour the internet for solutions to this problem, in response -
Wash bedsheets nearly every day (nice smelling sheets)
Put air purifier in Kate's bedroom (who knows, the white noise makes me sleepy, though)

But check this out - a few months ago I made a belly balm for my pregnant next door neighbor - the same one Sybil made for me when I was pregnant with Kate that I enjoyed so much. When I made Catherine's (my neighbor), I had some left over so I put it in a small tin and had been using it on my super dry hands until Lola got a hold of it and ate nearly all of it because she's a very bad dog! Anyhoo...I came across the nearly empty tin of it about 3 days ago and, in desperation, started applying it to Kate's arms and legs twice a day. I tried it on myself first and it didn't burn so that boded well. Three days. Her skin is nearly completely cleared up. All those lotions and potions carefully crafted (and sometimes pricey) in high tech labs by super smart (and if the CSI techs are any indication, totally hot) scientists and a combination of some oils at home and she's looking great. Well, how about that?

Here's the balm, in case you're itchy:

2oz. jojoba oil

2oz. coconut oil

2oz. shea butter

1 oz bee's wax

3 T olive oil

Melt it all together (I like to measure it all out in a Pyrex liquid measuring cup then slowly melt it in a hot water bath on the stovetop) then dump it in a container and it let it cool. Voila!

...And the poop goes on (la dee dah de dee)

Jeremiah and I are hard pressed to finish a new verse for the diarrhea song that begins "When you're filling up your Huggies..." We've even tried replacing Huggies with diaper, Pampers or Luvs. It's a tough one. Please submit your suggestions here.

Kate's chest x-rays came back bronchitis and pneumonia free. The doctor gave us a prescription for a cough medicine that contains codeine, but Kate's already addicted to smack and I just thought, you know, why add fuel to that fire? (Sheesh)

Illness makes child messy

Day 3, Kate still has diarrhea. It's totally gross. Her fever has been gone since Sunday night but I couldn't send her to daycare like this and besides, after 2 whole days of that she really needed to go to the doctor (despite her protests). I suppose it's a good thing she's got such an obvious symptom with whatever illness she's sporting right now, because you'd never know to look at her. Doesn't she look like she's at death's door?

So she's at home with me while I'm attempting to work today. She wasn't content to just play with her playdough or crayons or whatever and be quiet. "I need to get on your lap, mommy!" was the morning's refrain. So, I devised something new for her to play with. I gave her a big bowl full or uncooked rice, and an empty bowl and some tools for the transferring of said rice from one bowl to another and set her up at the end of the dining room table where I was working. Knowing this was a risky thing, I watched her for a few minutes. When I saw that she was carefully moving the rice back and forth with the little cup and ladle I'd given her, I set to work.

A couple minutes passed before she said "Mommy?" (Brain's red warning lights come on, but I ignore them) "Yeah sweetie..." I responded, not really looking away from the email I was reading. "I need a paper towel". This was apparently a preemptive request because I looked up just in time to watch her dump the entire contents of the bowl of rice onto her lap. And the floor. And the chair. And the table. It didn't seem like that much rice when I was dumping it out for her... Two minutes later, as I was sweeping it all into a big pile, she assisted by jumping on the pile and gleefully throwing handfuls of rice in the air at, I assume, an imaginary passing bride and groom. At last, I gave in and let her watch Pee Wee's Playhouse again. Too much DVD viewing might be rotting her brain but at least I got a little work done. Isn't that what matters?

Jeremiah took a half day off so I might get something done, and took her to the doctor. He called a few minutes ago to inform me he's on his way to Eggleston to have chest x-rays done due to her nasty cough. I'm not worried, though. I know they order tests like that at the least little thing. No sir, not concerned in the least...

In other news, Sarah, who is at daycare today, is still cute. Here she is on her way out the door this morning.

Happy New Year!

It's a brand new year! It feels a lot like the old one. We made no attempt to stay up to ring in the new year. The day doesn't matter much anymore, if we're not in bed by 10:00pm, we start to worry. I did nearly make it to midnight, though, because sick Kate, who did end up running a fever for most of the day yesterday, was still in bad shape. It was about twenty till twelve when I finally got her tucked in. I could've hung out another 20 minutes...blown my little party horn, kissed my husband and banged on some pots and pans. I decided I'd be happier with the sleep. I fell into bed, I think I might have been asleep before my head hit the pillow.

Now I have a little blonde munchin snuggled up next to me on the couch, watching Here Come the ABCs, eating ice and looking sweet. Her temperature is back to normal but man, the diaper I took off her booty this morning...who knew something so cute could create such a repulsive waste product? So far, Sarah seems free of whatever Kate's enduring. Please keep your fingers crossed for us...