MommyBlog

So we have all been medicated.   And though scabies will disappear in two days on treated humans, it takes 10 to 14 days for them to completely leave the dog alone.   For that reason, we will need to vacuum and mop everyday until that time (including vacuuming the furniture), and wash all of our clothing at the end of each day in hot water.   Tell me this isn’t fun.

The kids are already sick of the vacuum.   Come to think of it, this is like psycho-therapy on someone like me, who is admittedly obsessive/compulsive about vacuuming the house.     I had even already done today’s vacuuming when Cooper found a full bag of ground Starbucks coffee in the pantry and decided to dump it onto the kitchen floor.   He then “skated” in it, cackling all the while.   I turned around the the baked spaghetti casserole I was preparing to see the source of the mirth and told Kenny to run get the dust-buster.  

He came back with it, triumphant, until he dropped it at my feet, where it promptly broke into two useless pieces.   I went to get the vacuum, instructing him to keep Cooper and his ground-coffee-studded clothes in the kitchen.   I came back to find both Dudley, both front paws on the counter, eating the cold spaghetti right out of the casserole dish.   I swatted him, not very nicely, and handed Kenny the vacuum and said, “Go for it.”   Then I examined the spaghetti to see where Dudley had eaten, and with surgeon-like precision, extracted the dog-slobbered parts.   It was going to be cooked anyway, right?

Thirty minutes later the boys and I sat down to dinner.   Thirty minutes after that, they were both bathed and sound asleep, a full 40 minutes before their real bedtime.

I am now on laundry load at-least 20… considering that we had to wash all the sheets, blankets and comforters two nights in a row as a result of the pesticide we had to put on ourselves.   Dudley has been released from his 36 some-odd hours of quarantine in the office, and is now merely captive to the downstairs of the house.   I am not washing the down comforters again!   He is mad as a hornet.   Cry me a river, you mangy mutt, I told him.

Nobody slept well in our house the last two nights, first with Dudley barking his head off in the office, then with him whining at the foot of the stairs all night last night.   Kenny was up at 2 and climbed into our bed, where he snored 2 inches from my head for the next hour.   Cooper was up at 3:30, then at 5, screaming, I can only imagine, because he was cold, having kicked his blankets off.   Finally at 5:30 I climbed into Kenny’s vacant bed with Cooper where we both slept fitfully for the next hour and a half.   I am determined that we will sleep tonight.   I know that Dudley’s going to whine, but I have to be optimistic that we will sleep through it tonight.

I am determined that Tomorrow will be an easy day.

It all started Wednesday morning.   Actually, it started approximately three weeks before that, but it was unknown, so we were ignorantly bliss.   Anyway, Dudley had been licking and scratching himself 10 times more than normal, which is really saying a lot, because he is the Canine World Lick Champion.

We got a morning appointment at our vet, and after a quick breakfast, the boys and I headed out.     Headed out so quickly, I might add, that I left my cell phone at home.   I almost ran back into the house for it, but we were close to running late, so I figured, who could I possibly need to call in the next hour and a half?   The normally 30 minute trip took nearly an hour, as an accident on the only road in had things blocked up.   Though we were unable to call and explain our tardy arrival, the vet was happy to see us, as apparently Casey called there looking for us, after being unable to reach me at the house or on the cell.   We borrowed the office phone to ring him back and assure him of our safety, then went into our appointment.

After a thorough examination, the vet declared that Dudley has “sarcoptic mange” – or a nasty form of scabies that it highly contagious and usually contracted from contact with foxes.   Anyone remember this post?   She then looked up at me, absentmindedly scratching my neck.   “Can I see your rash?” she asked tentatively.   “Oooh… you have it.   You need to call your OB asap and get seen.   You need to be treated for this today.   Your kids, too…”   She went on to explain the various courses of drugs she would prescribe to Dudley, then detailed the work we needed to do at home to rid our house of the vermin.   Basically, it was wash everything that’s not bolted down in hot water, including all bedding, clothing and rugs that may have come in contact with Dudley, bleach the floors, and vacuum every day for the next 10 to 14 days.   As she was rattling it all off, she was subtly ushering us out the door, where she suggested that we leave Dudley in the car while they waited for the test results.   As we came back in, we saw the staff bleaching their own floors and changing their clothes.   “That bad?” I asked.   “Yeah.   I’m sorry,” she said sweetly.  

After over an hour at the vet it was time to return home.   I looked at the clock and realized that we’d never make it home a nd then to Kenny’s school on time, and I needed to change all their clothes and call the OB and the pediatrician.   And my phone was at home.

Thanks to traffic, it was another hour before we walked back in the door (the hour did include a stop at the drive-thru).   I quarantined Dudley in the office, and told Kenny that he was going to have to miss school.   I put in a much-coveted video for Kenny and Cooper and I got busy on the phone.   Once the appointments were set up, I put Cooper down for a nap, then got Kenny into a movie while I vacuumed the entire house and got started on the first of what would be over 18 loads of laundry (and counting, as we are still washing at the end of each day).   Then I mopped the floors with the strongest formula they would take.   Then we woke up Cooper to head out to the pediatrician.  

She was, of course, running late, and we waited over an hour to be seen.   She walked in, looked at my neck and chest, and said, “Yep.   The whole family has scabies.   Call your OB and see what you can take and I’ll write prescriptions for the whole family.”

Hm.     One-stop shopping.  

After another hour at the pharmacy, waiting for an approval call-back from my OB, we headed home, now nearly 6 o’clock.   I made a quick dinner while the boys played quietly (I think they were exhausted, too).   After Casey came home, I gave him him the low-down and we all headed up to the bathroom where we stripped down and applied the “scabicide” (read: nasty pesticide lotion) from the soles of our feet to our scalps and everything in between.   We covered up with cotton pj’s and socks (on both hands and feet) and called it a day.

Whew.

 

Stay tuned for Part II…

Kenny is a kid who likes to know what’s going on.   All the time.   I can’t even so much as mutter absent-mindedly to myself without him saying, “What’d you say, Mama?”   Then I’ll repeat it and it will invariably lead to another 20 questions, all because I said something mundane under my breath like, “Guess that laundry will have to wait.”

It’s worse when Casey and I are both in the car driving somewhere with the kids in the back.   Forget trying to hold any semblance of conversation.   Especially if we need to actually talk about something significant.   Every sentence we utter is pinged back with, “What’d you say, Dadda?   What’d you say, Mama?”   It’s maddening.   Ok, on one level it’s cute that he’s so interested in his surroundings and the goings on of family and household, but on another it makes me want to pull my hair out, because I can’t even have a basic conversation with my husband without either having to repeat every word for Kenny, or filter it with something different, if it’s a sensitive topic.

I don’t want to shut him out, or make him feel like he’s not a valid and important member of the family, but at times shouldn’t I have licence for a chat without having to share it all with the four-year-old in the back seat?  

He hears everything, too, that’s the crazy thing.   I’ll be talking to a friend on the phone and say something like, “Oops, I have to go!   I need to get dinner on the table!” and Kenny will look at me when I hang up and say, “You said that we weren’t eating until Daddy got home.   Why did you say you were putting dinner on the table?”   Or the other day in a store, we had run in so that I could return a sweater.   I looked for another and the saleslady helping me found one, just as Cooper started to dismember a manekin.   I said, “I need to get these little guys out of here.   I’ll come back for the sweater another day!”   and as we left, Kenny said, “When are we going back to get the sweater?”   “I don’t know,” I answered, and wouldn’t you know it, every day for the next four days he reminded me that I’d told the lady I was coming back for the sweater, and we needed to go get it.

Sometimes I feel like I’m living in 1984.

We’ve been setting up Christmas decorations all over the house, and have even gotten our Christmas tree up and trimmed.   Actually, that’s a work in progress, as daily Kenny and Cooper have taken to rearranging every ornament they can reach!

Yesterday Cooper was looking at the tree and pointed to a picture of Santa Clause and happily exclaimed, “Noah!”   Then he went around and found all the Santa impressions he could find and named them all: “Noah!”   Noah!” “Noah!”   I started to correct him, but really, Santa does look exactly like his little Noah and the Arc figurine, so why call him into question?

I had my 16 week checkup today and all is well.   I mentioned to my OB that my hormones have been out of control.   He saw me through two other pregnancies when I was generally so happy that I was floating in and out of his office every month.   He looked up at me in surprise and said carefully, “Actually, it’s not at all unusual to feel a little out of control when your hormone levels are this high… they should settle in after about 18 weeks, I would think.   Can you make it until then?”   I almost started crying, but remembered that he is a baby-catcher, not a therapist.   I nodded pathetically then asked him a benign question about drinking soy milk.   He was relieved.

Truly, though, I think I must be having a girl, because besides outbreaks of acne and crippling fatigue, I have been so moody that I’m making myself mad.   Which makes me madder still, right?   Anything and everything has set me off, most upsetting being the things that previously wouldn’t have made me blink.   The worst is changing Cooper’s diaper.   He screams like he’s being decapitated when I change a poop, and has started slapping my face when I lay him on the table.   I’ve almost seriously lost it a few times.   Today was a little better, though, as I made a huge effort to tickle and laugh with him every time I changed him.   He was a little calmer, and life in the house was a little more peaceful as a result.

Still.   I’m not used to being this hormonal!   Somebody out there write me some funny stories of your pregnant mood swings and near-foibles.   Please, I need it!

Yes, yes, I haven’t written in a month again.   Truly, not because of any hangups or anything legitimate… it’s more like I kind-of forgot that I had a blog for a while.   We’ve been wicked-busy (but who isn’t?) and once again I’ve missed several dozen days worth of mini-milestones and funny foibles.

It was Casey that got me over to the computer tonight: “You know, when Kenny’s 15 and Cooper’s 12 they’re going to find this old blog and Kenny’s going to have nearly daily accounts of his first three years, and Cooper’s going to say, ‘Hey – what happened to my childhood??'”   Waa.   Guilt.

So, what’s up, ya’ll?   On our side of the fence:

Cooper finally got his cast off after 6 full weeks.   It took two weeks longer than we’d thought it would, due to the fact that the fracture seemed to be more traumatic than the doctor initally thought.   After four weeks he had a  below-the-knee cast put on, which made life, and his sleep, considerably easier.   He got the cast off last Friday, and is still walking with a bit of a limp, more from atrophied muscles than the injury.   He has another check-up this Friday to make sure that the healing is on the right track.

His vocabulary and speaking skills have exploded.   He now parrots everything I say, whether it’s, “Dinner time!”   (Dinna-tie!”) or “Oops!   I spilled the milk.” (“oo!   ‘Pilled da melk!”) or “Dudley, stop licking!” (Dudee!   Top lickies!”)   His favorite expression by far still  is “Hold ye!”  which he employs with sometimes frantic frequency.   He has come up with a few un-coached simple senteces, too.   I gave him a bite of something recently and he wiggled his nose at me and said plainly, “Don die-kit!”   He will also randomly yell, “Meu-sick!”, pointing to the IPod, and his most-requested songs are “A-wite” (Alright, by Darius Rucker) and “Alla Lindle Lindle!”   (Single Ladies, by Beyonce… go figure that one out)   His dancing is worthy of a Tony, and I really do have to get it on video.

Speaking of video, or pictures for the matter, we haven’t used our camera in two months.   Really bad, considering how quickly our little guy changes!  

Kenny is a ham-hock and a genius, rolled into a hip-hop-dancin’, imagination master and still champion-nose-pickin’ little boy.   He is thriving in preschool, though he misses his gymnastics and swimming lessons (which we put on hold for a bit, due to our new fall schedule).   His favorite time of the day is Cooper’s nap time, which he guards like a piranha.   It is “Mommy – Kenny Time” and cannot be used for any other purpose other than playing “big boy” games.   Well, sometimes he helps me clean the bathrooms, but always with the incentive that the fasted we’re finished, the sooner we can play legos.  

He has also developed a recent passion for talking to his Gramma on the phone for as long as I’ll let him during the day.   These conversations have often lasted as long as an hour, and are filled with an entire imaginary world that they’ve invented.   They have always talked on the phone, but it used to be for 5 or 10 minutes at a stretch.   Now, it’s a whole different world for him.   During these conversations, he will dash from room to room around the house, pretending to fly on airplanes or rocket ships, go to the grocery store, and fill up at the gas station.   He will also sit perfectly still and quiet, pretending to watch a movie on the plate glass window, occasionally stopping to shush one of his imaginary friends if they get to loud in the theater.   It is fascinating to observe.   And somehow, I know that it’s best to remain an outsider in this one.

Casey and I are riding on cloud 9… we bought a house!!   It’s in the historic district of the town we live near and it’s right in the center of town.   Perfectly renovated, parking for both cars (a rarity!) and just a gorgeous little spot.   A dream come true!     We only have to make it through the home inspections this week and then we will prepare to close on January 4th.     YaHOO!   I would post a picture (it’s so cute!!) but I think that’s dangerous, because who knows what shady internet stalkers might show up at our door, right?   Suffice to say, we are thrilled!!

Oh, yeah, and I’m pregnant, but you all alreayd knew that one.   I hit 16 weeks on Tuesday and so far, uneventful has been the glorious norm.   I was terribly nauseous for those first 12 weeks, worse in the evenings, and so tired that I could barely listen to my kids, much less play with them.   Actually, my hormones have been off the charts still.   I have wept, screamed and laughed all within 90 second intervals several times a day.   It must be a girl.     ha ha.

And did I mention that I’m directing the choir at our church for the Christmas season?   This has become an undertaking far beyond what I expected.   Far more rewarding, too.   But it takes a lot of time and brain-power, both of which I’m short on these days.   Some nights when Cooper wakes up at 3am for no reason, I find myself humming a very random tenor part to a gospel song to try and get him back to sleep.   No wonder the kid is dabbling in  insomnia!

And speaking of insomnia, I’ve gotten up three times during the post to go calm the little bugger to sleep.   He’s got a cold and two molars coming in and while falling asleep is easy, staying that way has become nearly impossible.

Sorry for the lengthy post, but perhaps I can remember to write more now that I’ve been guilted into remembering that I have a blog?

Kenny is a nose-picker.   I know that all kids at this age probably are, but he gets into it with such gusto that he actually zones out sometimes when he’s got a good one.   Fortunately, he has a pretty good sense of humor about it, too.

I will say, “Ya goin’ fishin’ Kenny?”  

“Yep!” he’ll reply, with a smile, “Catchin’ a big one, too!”

When he learned the names of his fingers (thumb, ring finger, etc.), he held up the pointer finger on his right hand and said, “This is my pointer, but it’s really my picker finger!” and cackled about it for the rest of the day.

Today I was clipping his nails and when I got to said finger, he shouted, “Mama!   Not too short!   That’s my picker finger!!”   I stopped mid-clip and re-adjusted, giving him a little more nail to spare.   He inspected it.   “Whew,” he said.   “I needed that.”

This morning Kenny’s pediatrician’s office held it’s first Swine Flu vaccination clinic from 9 to 12.   We decided to to there instead of our normal 9 am church service, and when we arrived, there was a line that snaked from the open door of the doctor’s office around the sidewalk and into the parking lot.   It was 42 degrees and raining, but families were undeterred as they stood determined through the weather to get the vaccine.       They were only offering the mist, so Cooper was out of luck.   Instead we drove to the local bagel shop and returned to Casey and Kenny in line with hot   coffee and buttery bagels.

The vaccine has  been pretty hard to come by so far in our area for some reason, and even the county health hotlines aren’t saying when the clinics are until the day they occur.   I still haven’t found a shot for my pregnant self.   My OB’s office is promising that they will have them soon, as is my general physician’s office, but so far, no luck.   With all the scary news stories out there about the dangers of the swine flu in pregnant women, you’d think the least that they could back those stories up with would be real data about where to get the vaccine.

Post-vaccination this morning, we headed off to church where our small group was scheduled to pack lunches for a local shelter in between services.   Kenny was in his element.   That kid has been making his won sandwich for lunch everyday since he turned three.   That is the truth.   Usually it’s a humus and turkey on wheat.   This morning he was introduced to Wonder bread, American cheese and bologna, and after assisting in making nearly 150 sandwiches, he admitted that they were starting to look pretty tasty.   He was a real trooper, though.   He followed all the directions that the adults gave him, and worked alongside 5th and 6thgraders in his tasks.   And there was nothing cuter than him running around the table with little cups of applesauce in his hands, plopping them into open bags and shouting, “Got yer applesauce!   Who needs some applesauce??”

Post-church we headed downtown where we had lunch at a deli and went to an open house.   We actually saw the house when it was first on the market two years ago, but it’s been re-listed at a much lower price and we were pleasantly surprised to find that it was even nicer than we remembered.   Who knows… maybe a move in our horizon???   We’ve been house looking pretty aggressively for several weeks now.     At some point we’ve got to find The House, right?

I am wiped out.   This being pregnant thing is exhausting.   I start to hit a wall at about 7 PM and it’s all I  can do to not fall asleep when I put the boys to bed.   I am so behind on so many things!   At 4 o’clock I’ll start making a list of all the things I can catch up on when the boys go to sleep, and yet by the time they do, I’m fantasizing about my feather pillow.   zzzzzzzz   I also realized that I’m really needing a nap.   When I was pregnant with Kenny, I was able to nap pretty much anytime I wanted.   When I was pregnant with Cooper, Kenny napped from noon to 1:30 everyday, and I’d just lay down with him.   Now, Coop naps, but Kenny doesn’t and I’m at a loss.       I may have to start letting him watch a video here and there when Cooper naps so that I can doze a little, too.   I only have two more weeks of the first trimester, so surely the energy will ramp back up soon.   Right?

Cooper is beginning to figure out how to walk with his cast, in spite of the doctor assuring us that 1). He shouldn’t, and 2). He can’t, given the particular way that they angle the foot in the cast.   I actually did ask the doctor what to do if he tried to walk.   He laughed and said, “Push him over.”   Ha.   Yeah.   After I cheer him on.

He has been better overall today, though.   He still gets overcome with pain and frustration at intervals throughout the day, but they are becoming fewer and farther between.   His appetite had returned and he seems to be getting more used to it.   Kenny is also getting a little more used to the fact that The Coop needs extra TLC for now.   He’s had his moments over the last few days, but they are more half-hearted than sincere cries for attention.

I am doing fairly well.   My back and shoulders are killing me from all the extra Cooper-carrying I’ve been doing… And Cooper is not a kid who hangs on and cooperates when he’s being carried here, there and yonder.   He twists his body, sometimes trying to dive right to the floor if you are going in a direction he does not care for, and often pushes me away so hard it’s all I can do not to drop him.   If I set him down before we reach our destination, of course, he howls and wails and cries, “MAMA!   Hold-ye!   Hold-yeeee.”  

Someday when he is eighteen, I am going to make him carry me on a five mile hike through rocky terrain, all the while pouring me glasses of milk and giving me crackers, and I am going to try with all my strength to get out of his grasp, and alternately howl and hug him, and then when we finish I will say:”There, son.   We’re even.”

As for being pregnant, I haven’t had much time to think about it, other than at times feeling so nauseous that I have to lay down on the floor to keep the room from spinning.   These episodes are matched by equal spans of time when I am so ravenously hungry for odd things that I can’t decide if I should ignore my stomach or pacify it.   Mashed potatoes with a side of blueberry yogurt, anyone?   I actually poured vinegar on top of my tuna sandwich today, because it sounded like a good idea.   And I’ve gone through three entire loaves of bread this week, with as many sticks of butter.   Actually, I think I need some of that right now.   Right after I finish the rest of tonight’s meatloaf…

Ironically, I haven’t gained any weight yet, but I think it’s because of the heavy weightlifting regimen that Cooper has me on.   I’m sure once Cooper’s cast comes off, I’ll go from svelte to bulbous in no time.   ha ha.

We ended up taking Cooper back to the orthopedic doctor today.   He’s had no appetite, been cranky and moody and this morning he just collapsed into sobs every time he tried to walk or crawl.   They ended up taking off the cast and re-doing it.   The first one went right up to where his diaper hits, and it was so sung that his little adorable fat rolls were trapped and spilling over.   The new one has a little more room at the top and only goes to his mid-thigh.   So far, he seems much more comfortable.

My heart aches for him, though.   Here he is, this enthusiastic little chap who was just starting to run and had just learned to (kind-of hit) a baseball off a T, and now he’s confined to sitting and crawling again.   And I imagine that it must hurt.   And itch.   And it’s heavy.   And scratchy.

Tonight at dinnertime, he just dissolved.   He started crying and then screaming so hard it was all I could do to hold him.   I rocked him, wailing, for a half hour and then just put him in bed, still sobbing.   It’s been a long few days for my sweet bruiser.     One minute he’s his fine, happy self, and the next he is miserable.

Fortunately, my parents came over for a while this afternoon and gave Kenny some much-needed attention.   My Mom ran in the backyard with him for hours and my Dad pushed him on the swing and played games and made him giggle.   And tonight, after Cooper finally fell asleep, Kenny and I sat in the big chair in the living room and read books for a solid hour.   I was too nauseous to cook dinner, so Casey came home with take-out from a nice Italian restaurant, and the three of us sat and had a happy family meal.   I felt so guilty for enjoying that time – here our injured Cooper had cried himself to sleep an hour before, and were were laughing and eating homemade meatballs.

I need to find ways to be extra attentive to Cooper (which for him for now will involve lots of quiet games in the floor) and not completely neglect and frustrate Kenny, who is 100% energy and action.   Easier said than done when I’ve got morning sickness that seems to last all day and I’m so tired that any flat surface looks just as inviting as a feather bed.   This too shall pass, right?

Though the x-rays were inconclusive, the orthopedic doctor we saw today is fairly certain that there is indeed a fracture in Cooper’s lower leg and he is now in a bright blue cast from his toes to his hip.

Waaaaaaa

Putting the cast on was akin to what should be illegal torture.   I mean, the kid doesn’t even like to be pinned down for a diaper change.   Holding him still for 10 minutes was agony.   He screamed in pitches I’ve never heard before out of a baby’s mouth.   It was horrible.   When we got back in the car, he fell asleep (with two peanut butter crackers wedged in his mouth) and stayed that way for three hours.   (The crackers are now meshed into his bed sheets.)

When we woke up, he was actually in pretty good spirits.   Kenny and Casey had gone out to run errands, so we had  a nice quiet house.   We sat in the floor and played, though every few minutes he would try to stand and would hit his cast, saying, “Off!   Off!”   By bedtime, he was getting around pretty well – he has figured out a sort of crab crawl to get where he wants to go, then can stand himself up, as long as he has something to hold onto.   Or, if the going is slow, he looks up at me with those perfect blue eyes and says sweetly, “Hold-ye.”   Melt.

Casey and I have hit the wall of fatigue, after our sleepless night.   Cooper didn’t sleep longer than 20 minutes at a stretch from 11 until 4:30am.   At that point, Casey took off the splint they’d wrapped him in at Nighttime Pediatrics, and he finally fell into an exhausted sleep for about 4 hours.   That thing must have been cutting off his circulation.   Fortunately, the cast the doctor put on this morning seems to be actually making him feel better.  

We have to leave the hard cast on for two weeks, then back to cut off the cast and re-examine his leg.   If he seems to have no more pain, they will let us go free.   If the pain is still there, and he still can’t walk, they will put on a new cast, which will most likely remain for another 3 weeks.

Looks like I’m going to be building some serious tone into my arm muscles over the next few weeks!