Green in the Gills

Homestead Mama out of town, no help on hand, one boob almost out of commission due to some weird occurrence of blocked ducts that I am almost over - THAT is when the boy gets a stomach virus. He woke up at the usual 10 pm-ish for his nursing/snuggle time, then sat up and hurled all over me, the couch, and the carpet. Oy. We cleaned up, laid down some waterproofing on the bed and went to sleep. We were up again at 2, 4, and 6. He had such explosive diarrhea that I had to wash his hair in the tubby. He tolerated all the ministrations and tending very well, clearly out of sorts. All he wanted to do was nurse and snuggle. He was up by 7:30, but Thomas the Tank Engine came on and he watched it with no volume happily while Pequita and I dozed. I called H-Mama in the Adirondacks as soon as it was a decent hour begging her to hurry her work up and come home to spell me. I was pretty sure that more than one puking person at a time would have put me over the edge.

After a lunchtime of only ginger ale ["Spicy soda, Mommy! More spicy soda!"] Monito crashed for nap in the living room, and Pequita soon followed. We slept in the living room because every single stitch of bedding, all my towels, and all my chux pads were soaked with assorted bodily fluids. Also the carpet runner in the master bedroom, but who's counting? So I did laundry while the bairn slept for two hours.After nap they played with the new Playmobil camping set. It was fortuitous that I bought it on the off chance they'd sit still long enough to play with it; Monito had no energy and was happy with it, and Pequita just loves the tiny parts these days. Since she ate only a half of a banana today, I'm pretty sure she's about to fall prey to the bug as well. The house rule is don't encourage them to eat if they seem ambivalent.

By the time Homestead Mama arrived home, Monito was feeling better enough to join in on the mowing extravaganza.



Here's hoping we make it through the night uneventfully.

email to my parents

Dear Mom and Dad,

I wish you were awake so I could call you both and chat. I am awake; it is 12:41 am and Monito has just fallen asleep after throwing up vigorously at 11pm. He is asleep now, but I am loathe to bring him up to bed so he can throw up there, too, so I am watching Cosby Show reruns and biding my time. I reek of puke. Pequita is due to wake up in the next little bit and want to be nursed back to sleep in my bed by Homestead Mama, and H-Mama is at her dad's until sometime tomorrow. I'm not sure how to get the day's worth of food Monito just upchucked out of the wool living room carpet, and I KNOW he'll throw up more soon in my bed. Sigh. It would be nice to commiserate now over the phone, or better yet know that you could pop over tomorrow and sit with them while I get a nap, since I will most certainly be tired. I can't wait until you have some kind of home nearby. It is not ONLY a selfish desire; the kids talk of you daily and crave your presence even more than I do.

Every day of being a mom makes me more aware that you guys did a great job with us, and I know it wasn't easy. You both had a lot going on in your own lives with which to keep up. I am grateful for all that you DID do, and still do. I appreciate your willingness, acceptance, and love. And I am grateful that you will make time in your day - any time - to talk over speakerphone to me about parenting and all its foibles and the kids about their potty escapades and successes; it means the world to [me] them.

I love you, and miss you every day that you aren't here.

Homestead Mom

Sick, Homestead Style

I was assuming we brought our colds back from Canada [and the trip would still have been well worth it] but everyone in our town is sick, too, and it can't ALL have been from my Typhoid-Homestead family.

When our family falls sick at the same time, it is actually pretty enjoyable. There is lots of quieter playing on the new rug in front of the fire. Pequita is perfecting her tower building technique, and her brother is working on the restraint required to let her.

There is lots of rolling around in blankets, hiding underneath them and zoning out in a pile of warm coziness. Monito asked to have the tunnel and playhouse built. He then curled up inside it with his blanket and relaxed to the Teletubbies. There is also lots of laundry folding, as evidenced by the pile on the couch, because the kids are quiet enough for me to actually get it done in daylight hours.

There is lots of napping, woozy waking, and being nursed back down to sleep for an extra half hour.

There is lots of comfort food. The kids got sherbet cones for breakfast the last two days to soothe their throats. I found tiny kid cones that are about 2.5" tall; difficult to fill with frozen ice cream, but perfect for a special treat medicinal-sized serving. Popsicles and macaroni and cheese have figured more prominently in our diets than usual, alongside homemade chicken soup and kale with brown rice to balance it all out. After the kids went weepily, clingily down to bed last night, Homestead Mama and I had a battle of the breads. She started a batch of Bittman's "no-knead bread", a sure-fire recipe I've written about before. It is a chewy, crusty french peasant bread style loaf. To complement that, I made a loaf of sandwich bread in the bread machine. My favorite recipe is called Anadama bread, and it is in the recipe book that came with the machine. It has oatmeal, cornmeal, and molasses in it, and wheat gluten is added so it is chewy and soft. It is perfect. If anyone wants the recipe, comment and let me know.

This morning I woke up and punched down the no-knead dough and set it up on the top shelf in the warm living room to finish rising in the green milk-glass bowl. This bowl is over fifty years old and brings me joy every time I use it and think of how many other women have baked bread with it. I put away most of my Fire King dishes when the kids were born, but kept a few most used pieces out to keep me happy in the kitchen.Then I served us all slices of my bread with butter and honey. Hot coffee for me, and water with a splash of juice in it for the kids in baby bottles, their cup of choice when sick. Homestead living at its best.

Pequita Growing Up

Oh me oh my, my daughter brings joy to my life. She is in a very 'big sister' phase in which she loves to help and teach and take care of others. During her brothers recent flu, she was happily on call. She was willing to drop her activity instantly when I called her to help. (So much of a sick toddler is managing vomit spread, so someone needs to hold the puke-covered kid still and comfort them while another brings cleaning supplies.) She gladly grabbed towels and trotted them over to me, or brought her crying brother a toy or cup of water when he cried and crooned 'Buuuubbuuuuh' to him while touching his cheek. Saturday night at around 11 pm H-Mama was downstairs putting our pukey sheets in the laundry and I had to fetch clean jammies for Monito. Pequita was awake with all the hubbub, and we pulled her out of her crib and asked her to sing to her brother and comfort him for a couple minutes. She lay down alongside him, held his hand and sang her favorite song to him, the ABCs. Her version goes like this: O-ayayay, I-ayayay, A-ayayay, I. U-ayayay, O-ayayay, (etc). Monito quieted right down and lay still with her while we cleaned up. I am ever grateful that we have two kids when I see them like this.



Her favorite ASL sign right now is 'I love you', taught to her by Auntie Kiko. It really illustrates this stage for her, which is so filled with love and affection.

Sick. Again.

We had a very nice day yesterday. We brunched and hung out with a family we really enjoy, shopped a bit and then had play time and pizza with another favorite family. More socializing in one day than we usually get in a week.

Monito woke me up at 11 last night to be brought into my bed and then greeted me by throwing up on me. His first real big boy vomit-fest versus a baby's spitting up. We changed the sheets once, but both the sick boy and I had six outfit changes each. And to think, our washer/dryer had been out of order due to a frozen pipe until yesterday morning. Homestead Mama did 4 loads to get us caught up, and in one bonanza of illness Monito blew through almost all the newly fluffy jammies. Thank god for working plumbing. I got almost 4 hours of sleep; we'll see how the day goes.

Whoops - Saturday Already?

Time flies. We are mostly better. Homestead Mama and I are eating regular food, and aside from some lingering fatigue and weakness, are well on the mend. She went to work on Friday, but not before grumping and sniping at me repeatedly until we were actually fighting. She did the only correct option to set the day straight, calling me from her car about 20 minutes later to apologize; we are both still irritable and out of sorts from being sick and cooped up for a whole week in a messy house with puking babies. I went to work as well, in a fashion. I took advantage of the babes being ill, quiet and very logey by playing our entire Tivo'd collection of Teletubbies (bloody brilliant show) for them. They played quietly, drifting between the dual peripheries of mummy and the TV while I swept & scrubbed the kitchen floor, cleaned the appliances, made things shine more than they have in a while. I washed the rugs, tidied, tossed a bunch of stuff, did 4 loads of laundry and got it put away (!). I was about to make a new fabric skirt for a rolling cart I have in the kitchen that houses my Kitchenaid mixer (true love) and our dusty breadmaker when I realized that I actually bought the cabinet for that spot in November. Sheesh. I planned a baking center when I designed the kitchen, a cabinet for all my equipment and supplies with a granite top for rolling out dough and making delicacies. Our less expensive line of cabinetry didn't offer a shorter specialty cabinet for baking, and I figured a regular cabinet would do fine even if I have to knead dough every day. So, with Monito watching from his seat and Pequita holding my tools I put together the cabinet & got it standing up in the right spot. And decided that I'm going to have to spring for a real, shorter baking cabinet which will stand a few inches lower and not interfere with our old fashioned low farmhouse windows. Duh. With no remorse, I'll put this nice maple 30" wide cabinet up in my craft area to start making it nice. I'm happy with the decision.

This morning we're off to meet a 7 month old Australian Shepherd who is up for adoption and will likely be too much dog for us with the babes. Tomorrow we go to meet a Labradoodle who is sounds perfect. In between, we hope to get Pequita's blood drawn again for her follow-up lead test. I'm terrified it will still be high and we'll have to get a hazmat team in here to decontaminate our house. H-Mama is just focusing on the cafeteria lunch we'll get at the hospital. She's a woman with odd tastes, assuredly.

I'll try to get a list together of words Pequita actually speaks now. She recognizes many, but has quite the repertoire. Her favorite is still MORE! MORE! MORE!

Monito's first meal

Monito has just cut his first two teeth (lower jaw.) As with Pequita, this happened around 7 months, and so as with his sister, Monito is now cleared to eat solid food. He had his first non-breast milk food a couple days ago. Since it was mere hours until he started getting the stomach flu, I'm glad it was organic chicken and matzoh ball soup that he ate. He was READY!

Timber

Homestead Mama succumbed at midnight and moved to the guest room. I've been mostly awake since then between the two kids, nursing and comforting. Monito just returned to me, in projectile form, all the milk he borrowed in the last several hours. Then he rumbled a bit and - and - I didn't know babies could dry heave. Lesson learned.

If only Pequita can stagger her onset for a few hours from now, I'll be able to manage.

Smote

I have the stomach flu that is going around. I had leftover Thai food for dinner last night and thought the spiciness was hitting me wrong until I realized OH NO this is no reaction to spice. Roundabout 3 am I realized that I needed to get myself away from the otherwise still healthy family and went to (not) sleep in the guest room. Poor Homestead Mama had to handle both babies waking up - not easy, since they both want to be snuggly and nurse themselves awake, which is impossible to do unless you remain in a push-up position above them both for way too long. (I've tried.) I had to not make any noise so the babes didn't know I was around - it is easier that way - while I went in the bathroom for various reasons every 20 minutes.

H-Mama just tossed a bag of ginger ale onto the front porch - a drive-by kind gesture - on her way to taking the kids down town for amusement. I can only suggest that you run screaming from anyone who even looks peaked. This is a doozy. I now have to pump for the first time in months because I am afraid to feed the baby.

Oh, and one tip? If you are going to be experiencing your last meal over and over again, pick something more appetizing than Panang curry.

Woe is Monito

We all have a cold. I'm in the end stages, H-Mama is dabbling but not succumbing, Pequita is snotty and coughs to the point of gagging in the night. We are all better than my poor teeny tiny baby (um, if teeny tiny means over the 100th percentile.) Monito is SICK. He hacks, coughs, can't breathe out of his nose for the snot, and wheezes. H-Mama (who was home from work yesterday and again today) and I took them both to the doc yesterday in hopes there was a magic medicine that would make them sleep better so we could sleep better. No such luck. Pequita was deemed healthy but cold-stricken, and was told to wait it out. Monito had a detectable wheeze (no shit - I had been sleeping next to that sound for two nights, which was why we were at the pediatricians.) The doc wanted to find out what was what so had him hooked up to a nebulizer (a small, loud machine that aerosolizes* medicine for inhalation) full of albuterol and a tiny baby-sized plastic face mask. H-Mama took Pequita to the play area in the waiting room so she could lick all the toys the other sickies have played with while I stayed in the exam room clutching a crying unhappy baby to my chest singing to him with the lights turned off, the only way he would tolerate the treatment. It was a long 7 minutes. Since his wheeze was lessened after the albuterol, the doc on call diagnosed asthma. Said this could be his only instance of it, it could last throughout his childhood or could be a lifelong affliction, there's no way to know. Three hours later, we were home with a box of albuterol and our very own $199 nebulizer (thank you, Huge Insurance Company) with which to torture our boy every four hours.

And torture we did. At his first treatment, he started crying upon hearing the loud thumping engine of the super-tiny neb machine, and graduated to a full-on angry/scared scream upon application of the mask to his face. And continued to scream for the full 10 minutes. Pequita looked on in horror and got increasingly upset, until H-Mama removed her from the room and distracted her. The boy and I sat and cried on the couch until it was over. He then collapsed into a feverish lump of clinging baby, and slept for over an hour. We were instructed to repeat this every four hours when he was wheezing. I made an executive decision to skip the nighttime treatments, judging that sleep was AS important as not wheezing. H-Mama concurred. This morning he was no worse, and on my sister's advice I called our Lovely Acupuncturist. (My sis is in the process of getting her degree in Acupuncture in a different city, and said that there is much to be done to help with asthma with needles, acupressure and herbs. I've been getting treatments from my in-town Lovely Acupuncturist for over 8 years for arthritis and most other ailments; I use Western Medicine as a last resort. She is fitting us in at noon. I am so grateful!

* I believe I made that word up. Sorry.

The Challenging Ones

Our OB has said, while watching Pequita, "The more challenging children make really interesting adults." At this rate, Pequita is going to be on the cover of Time Magazine by the time she hits puberty.

Pequita has been waking up at night with, sadly, what seems to be night terrors. She starts crying, and within 90 seconds it turns into screaming. Her eyes are closed tightly, and she seems to be asleep all the while that she is thrashing against our arms, arching her back, bellowing, crying, agitated, and inconsolable. A sleeping tantrum. She is completely unresponsive to anything we do to connect with her or calm her. Last night, Monito woke me up to nurse and as I put him back in his cosleeper 15 minutes later, I noticed Pequita was still in our bed, having fallen asleep next to Homestead Mama after nursing. I asked H-Mama to move her to the crib (because we all sleep better without a whirling dervish thrashing around between us all night) and upon being gently laid down onto the crib mattress, Pequita started the episode. Ho-ly mackerel, is all I can say. This is the third time it has happened and the worst by far. I ran with her into the master bath, since bright light has helped in the past, and since I wanted Monito to have a shot at staying asleep (which he did, the one bright spot in all this.) There, in my arms, she screamed until she was hoarse. I wondered if it was a bad nightmare, and tried to wake her up - I yelled her name, jostled and bounced her, even slapped her cheek, but nothing made a dent. (H-Mama said that dunking her feet in the cold water might have been more kind than the slap, but it didn't occur to me in the adrenalin rush that I was riding.) About 12 minutes after it started, she stopped, accepted the boob for nursing, and was asleep within 60 seconds. And allowed us to lay her down in her crib, and proceeded to have a night like any other. I'd like to note that 12 minutes seems a very long time when your baby is acting like she's being electrocuted.

I took her in to see the pediatrician this morning to rule out ear infections or illness, since she does have a cold. Sadly, she was healthy as a horse. H-Mama says that I sound like a ghoul for wishing double ear infections on her, but a 10 day course of antibiotics seems preferable to me that a possibly multi-month or -year affliction for which there is no cure.

Hot Blooded, Check It and See

Yes, the title confirms that I'm a child of the 80's.

Monito has a fever, having finally developed the cold that is plaguing the family. He is sweaty and whimpering, clearly miserable. All I can do is keep him cool and well hydrated. I hate this part of parenting, when I can't fix things!

Another thing on my list of duties? Taking rectal temps. Homestead Mama would prefer not to inflict that kind of discomfort on the babes. I suppose my Attila the Hun tendencies pay off for her.

Sickness and dogs and stress, oh my!

We are sick as a family, finally, after a long, lovely 5+ month reprieve. Pequita has been sleeping poorly for 3 nights now, with much waking, thrashing and crying. She is easily settled, but the disturbances due to her discomfort have left us all a little bleary-eyed. She has all the signs of teething (profuse salivation, lots of chewing on fingers/toys/anything, digestive inconsistencies, inability to stay on the boob for a whole uninterrupted feeding. Really, its classic. Then she added bad sniffles over the weekend, and she's either REALLY teething or she's also got a cold. She sounds like a bulldog when she breathes. Me? I have a bad cold w/ aches, swollen glands and the crowning immuno-suppressed glory, a cold sore. I am at work, nonetheless. Whimper.

I assume that all of you are watching the Westminster Kennel Club dog show in NYC? It is one of the highlights of our year. We love the dogs. We are scoping out our Next Dog, which must be bred to kill vermin, to help earn its keep at the Homestead. "Next Dog" is a little game we play. We have 3 dogs already, and will not get another until we are down to one. There is much joy to be had in discussing the relative merits of future animals for us. I was greatly saddened when one of my least favorite dogs won the terrier class. With all the gorgeous beasts on parade, who in there right minds would select the Dandie Dinmont Terrier as a winner? I KNOW that it isn't a competition between dogs, rather a contest to have the best breed standards in any given breed. Still. The terrier judge has been knocked down many notches in my esteem. On the other hand, Homestead Mama and I have decided that the Staffordshire terrier is high on our list of Next Dogs. Look how lovely! And good with kids, gentle, smart, and great at agility. Perfect for us.

Speaking of dogs, Homestead Mama's father called last night, and from what I could gather, he seemed to be asking her when my due date was. I was touched that he was planning for this, and wondered if he wanted to come visit this arguably not-quite-his grandchild after it was born. I misunderstood. He and his wife are going on their annual trip to the midwest to visit his son-in-law for a month in May and he wants us to, once again, take care of his 3 little dogs for the duration (2 toy poodles and a chihuahua). While I am 8 months pregnant. Homestead Mama, to her credit, said that might not work out, since I may go into labor early and it will be hard to have the dogs then. He apparently had this all planned out - we keep the little dogs UNTIL I go into labor, and then Homestead Mama drops them off at the local kennel before we go to the hospital to deliver.

Eeep.

Homestead Mama ended the call a few minutes later & came into the living room and asked me what I thought. Having smartened up in the last 7 years of navigating the minefield that is father-daughter relations, I didn't say what I thought. Instead, I said that it might be a little hard on her having even more responsibility right around the time that I will be at my most uncomfortable, unhelpful and unable to even SEE little dogs under foot (let alone see my feet) so as not to step on them. I thought that month before I am due should be as simple and stress-free as possible, since we already have a lot on our plates and have plans to be stripping paint off furniture (her, not me) and cleaning, sorting and purging for the biggest yard sale ever to make room in our home for another wee child. She seemed to concur. I'm hoping this is the end of it.

BTW, dead vermin tally:
Rats: 1 down. Mice: 7 down.
The traps set with bacon are working great!