Sunday, November 24, 2013
In the store, Pike threw up. He threw up once in an aisle (partly on my, though thankfully mostly on my jacket). We rushed to the bathroom (the Thanksgiving shopping was almost done by then) and quickly got washed up. Then, as we stood waiting for Wes to finish checking out, he unloaded again. Like a baby volcano, he puked a little bit on me and on him. Okay, I could deal - I asked the checker for some paper towels, and he got them for me without missing a beat. As he was passing them to me, Pike unloaded a further stream of puke.
We finally managed to get us and the groceries into the car (by this I mean Wes managed everything except Pike since Pike and I were already fused together with his cold, wet vomit). We'd given up on cleanliness at that point and started for home as quickly as possible without getting pulled over. Naturally, Pike puked again on the way home. Oh, hey, there's that bacon. I totally wasn't hoping to see that again. We declined to stop and instead sped toward home.
The evening was, at that point, filled with restless, fussy baby moments and sweet, cuddly, watching Peter Pan baby moments. In the end he fell asleep on Wes' shoulder while we were all on the couch (he literally hasn't done that since he was less than a year old), and got put to bed. When Wes and I were finally going to get some rest ourselves, we hear Pike in his room sounding upset and go in. He's asking for a diaper change - the diarrhea has started.
At that point, we gave up. We got Pike cleaned up and asked him if he wanted to go back to his bed or sleep with us. I should explain here that Pike usually sees our bed as a place to play. Aside from a few naps when I was on maternity leave and he slept on my chest, he has never slept in our bed. We've offered before, but he gets in our bed and wants to play, not sleep. Last night, he sweetly asked for mommy and daddy's bed, and we all piled in.
Granted, for quite awhile he was restless and tossed and turned. Finally, he settled on the H position (where he's the crossbar between mommy and daddy, this time with the head on daddy and the feet on mommy's throat), and got some sleep. Which was disturbed by him waking us to get his diaper changed again. We did that, he wanted to get up and play (and put on make-up, but that's a whole other story). Finally we settled down, and Pike spent most of the rest of the night with his head on mommy, his feet on daddy, and the puppies sandwiched in around all of us. Since he had a fever this was something like sleeping with multiple irons under the covers - alternately a blessing and a curse.
For all the trials and tribulations, having Pike snuggled in next to us was a truly adorable experience. An experience that necessitated a nap for mommy and daddy today to catch up on missed sleep, but still pretty awesome.
Thursday, October 17, 2013
I think what surprised me most (and Gail a little too) is how well behaved he was. As you can see in the picture on the left on top (we were waiting to go back for the cut), he had rations for the journey in the form of apricots, apples, and goldfish. We come prepared. Don't get me wrong, he was wiggly as all get out, but he was happy for the most part. Until the end when he got bored, he sat like a good little boy and just wriggled his head and ate his food.
As usual, I'm a very proud mommy. And, of course, I got to go home with the most handsome boy in the place - no matter what length his hair is.
Wednesday, August 28, 2013
Thursday, August 22, 2013
|I'm an alligator. A scary one. RAWR!|
I should note, in all fairness, that he feels similarly about trains. We were lucky enough to get stopped by one yesterday (yes, this is lucky when you have a fussy toddler who loves trains), and he watched it with absolute wonder. When it left, he started making grunting noises of protest. "More train! Mommy! Mommy! MORE TRAIN!" Sadly, there was no more train and eventually he lapsed into sullen, thumb-sucking silence.
So there you have it, folks: as of this week, it's Disney movies, Yo Gabba Gabba, trains, and alligators.
Thursday, August 1, 2013
I'm awesome at titles. I know this. I started watching More Business of Being Born today and was struck with the need to say something I've probably said before but that bears repeating: how you give birth is a personal decision AND a practical one.
A lot of people feel pressured to go natural or even have a home birth because they've been told that's best now. The same number of people feel pressured to go to the hospital because it's safer. Ultimately, your circumstances may completely dictate your path. It did for me. If you've been reading for awhile, you know that my son was born by emergency c-section because I had HELP syndrome, which was discovered when I stopped in at the hospital with Braxton Hicks contractions. By the next morning, I had been Careflighted to another hospital and my son was being cut out.
My mother had me by c-section and my sister as a VBAC. Would I go that route? Truthfully? Um, no. I wouldn't even want to. See, I know I'm in the minority of women, but if it had been on the table, I would have chosen a c-section as my primary birthing option. I wanted one. And, yes, a lot of that has to do with sheer terror on my part. Don't worry, it isn't for lack of being informed or aware. I get that my body is literally made to heal from certain injuries and all that. I just also know that if I'm going to have stitches one place or the other, I'm choosing my stomach.
So if we decided to have another kiddo, I'd be happily scheduling a c-section or going in for one when I went into labor or whatnot... but I don't think I'd be given a choice, and I confess to being bothered by that. While VBAC is not something that interests me, it's a big deal for a lot of people. Complications like mine may have forced it the first time, but that doesn't mean they don't deserve another option. Before this descends into a long, rambling dissertation on what is wrong with birthing and maternity care in the United States, I'll stop myself. But to all the moms and dads and friends and relatives out there who know someone who's going to be looking down the barrel of having a kiddo down the road, just remember before you start putting pressure on them to use one method or another (even if it was the PERFECT one for you) that things won't work out how you plan no matter what your plan is. The chaos of birth is an apt introduction to the chaos of having children... and it's worth fighting through whatever is thrown down in front of you and whatever the downsides of your chosen (or not chosen) method is to meet the new arrival. Stop stressing about the how, and worry about the after. That's the part that really counts.