Rolling

One of the perks to Matt's fancy detail job is his ready proximity to the White House.

For years, like many American's, we've tried in vain to get tickets to the White House Easter Egg Roll. This year was no different. We tried. In vain. Several times. And was once again shut out.

But, the upside to being one of the few late-thirty-somethings in an office of work-a-holic Washingtonians is the is one of the 'few old guys with kids'.  And he was plied with sympathy. All of his co-workers entered their name into a lottery with the intent to pass on their tickets to us.

We hit the jackpot.

It was a beautiful day.

The girls were dressed in their White House appropriate finery, and I had a plan. We stopped to have lunch near our house to fill bellies before heading into DC. The problem was food never really make it into bellies. At the end of lunch, I saw Clare give me the look. A half second later, that look ended up all over herself and Grace as my carefully laid plan crumbled before my eyes.

In the rush to go home and change the girls, a key part of Clare's wardrobe was left behind.

Once we got past the chaos of actually getting on the grounds, the girls hunted and dyed eggs. They met their heroes: Dora, Diego and Curious George. And we procured a much sought after family photo on the south lawn of the White House.

All sans-shoes.

Mama Knows Best

On Thursday grace found her umbrella that had been missing in action for awhile.

She was thrilled, but was harbored by my warning: Close that umbrella. We do not open umbrellas in the house. Umbrellas are for rain and are not toys. I know, I'm a buzz kill.

Today, I got the best shopping cart at the grocery store. No, not the annoying, impossible to steer ones with the car. There are a bazillion of those. I grabbed one with a full size cart and a little added double bench stuck to the back. (Thus eliminating the undisclosed grabbing of fruit snacks and candy bars that I then feel obligated to purchase since those already have child sized bite marks in them.) ((Whoever realized that putting goods that every child wants, but most moms say no to at the cart-car level is a brilliant bastard.))

Anyway.....

The downside of that cart is there is only one seatbelt. Which I had to use strap in Clare. Which left Grace to her own devices. And her devices preferred to stand and face me.

I warned and bribed her. Standing was not safe. I bought 3 red licorice swirls in the bulk section at 8:30 am to occupy her. It was not enough. I was not focused. Damn. I forgot to grab broccoli slaw in the produce section. I make a sharp about face with the cart. And out went my first born.

People gasped. Gave me the evil eye.

I picked her up, and soothed her. I gave her more candy. She stopped crying and I (loudly) told her that's why I had asked her to stay on her butt.

Tonight Mama knows best once again.

There were ear shattering shrieks from above.

Matt rushed to find out what happened. 'I was playing with the umbrella and pinched my fingers Daddy!'
She came to me shortly after for soothing.

Grace, do you remember when you fell out of the cart this mooring? (nodding) I wasn’t trying to be mean. I just wanted you to be safe. So then do you remember when I told you umbrellas weren't toys? That is because they aren't toys and things like this can happen. Do you understand? I am just trying to protect you Love......

And..........

I told you so.
(I just couldn't resist.)

Bad Medicine

This picture was supposed to be part of a completely different post.

One full of glory and self-indulgent satisfaction. Instead, it is part of a story about Bad Medicine.

******************

We were sick far more days in December than we were healthy. In fact, I'd be surprised if out of the 4 of us, there was more than 4-5 days without headaches, coughing, runny noses or antibiotics. Such is the life with two small children in daycare I suppose, but still. Blah. It was horrible.

All through the month, Clare's teacher, formerly Grace's teacher, kept lecturing me on the healing powers of lemongrass. Specifically the concoction of lemongrass, ginger, lemon and honey. She swore by it as a instantaneous cold remedy*, and who was I to argue. I was the one with the lingering colds.
* She did always slide in that 12-13 hours of sleep was required too. Super. I'll get right on that.

So upon the decent of our first January colds, she sent me up to the Latino Market minutes away from my work. I stocked up on enough lemongrass, ginger and some superfluous dried lavender flowers to keep in in business for weeks. When I got home on Friday night, I dutifully pulled out my 5 quart soup pot and stuffed it full of the reeds, roots and water. Matt complained that the house smelled like hippies, but I was undeterred. I bragged on Facebook. I was so pleased with my homeopathic therapies and was convinced of the healing effect they would have.

Sunday morning, Clare had dark rings around the bottom of her eyes. Weird. The cold must be wearing her down too, poor baby.

Sunday night, the dark rings had turning into little pink spots with matching accessories on her forehead. WEIRD. Huh, a good night's sleep will make it go away, right?

Monday morning, she looked like this:

HOLY SHIT!!!! She's having an allergic reaction to something. I combed my head to try and think of what she's eaten that's new. Nothing. Absolutely nothing........

But she is a breastfed baby.......

And I drank 2lbs of lemongrass extract on Friday night and Saturday, something she's never had before.......

And OH MY GOD I'M POISONING MY BABY!!!!
(OK, I know it's not poison, but still- she is clawing at her own flesh and her whole body is covered in a horrible rash.)

And the Doctor scratched her head and said she'd never heard of anyone being allergic to lemongrass before, but it definitely looks like an allergic reaction so lets give her some heavy doses of Benadryl and see if it goes away - and by the way - lets look in Grace's ears while she is here why yes, she seems to have another bad ear infection to boot so lets do another round of antibiotics.

But does Grace mind? Not one bit. Because it means she gets to play with the train table for a little bit longer along with getting dum dums pulled out of her ears and Elmo stickers.

24 hours later, Clare seems to have faded back down to her normal peaches-and-cream complexion, as opposed to the giant strawberry she was sporting, and smiling as though nothing had ever happened.

Lost But Found

Little Rick is getting old.

This July he will be 13. That is 91 in people years. I hope I live to be that old.

But like humans, old age is taking its toll on him. He does little more than eat, sleep, shed and poop now-a-days. I swear he can’t hear us 90% of the time we call his name. He’s can’t see more than 5 feet in front of him, giving the bunnies rule over our yard and crumbs that he was once in charge of cleaning up rule over our floor. He’s had some sort of cold since Christmas, that seems to be immune to antibiotics, and has taken to coughing like it is his last breath at 2am under our bed. His teeth are starting to turn green, his breath has been black for ages and he’s developed some sort of benign growth between two of his toes. This last list will hopefully be corrected soon for the low, low price of $300+ for doggie sedation, dental work and extraction of miscellaneous parts.

In fact, the high priced visit to the vet was supposed to take place yesterday. Instead we spent the day explaining to animal loving people how we lost our dog.

Over the last few months, particularly since the 3am coughing started, we’ve been joking about how maybe Lil’ Rick’s time has run out. We keep throwing money at the Vet and they can’t seem to fix him. He’s never been a talker, so there is no whining or barking to let us know if he is miserable, just more and more sleep. He’s an old man though, so I figure if he wants to sleep 18 hours a day it is his right.

His low key attitude is part of the problem though. We are worn down ourselves. I am just shy of 7 ½ months pregnant, Gracie spends most of her day visiting the terribles of being two and Matt has never been a sound sleeper. Tuesday morning he woke shortly after 3am and could not fall back to sleep, so instead he worked on a white paper due at work. I woke early myself and went into work an hour early, leaving Matt to do daycare drop off on his way into meetings.

*You see, we changed the schedule. The ritual of mornings.*

During his morning outdoor time, Ricky took his time and Gracie decided to have a meltdown, diverting Matt’s attention from the dog to his daughter. Ricky DOES NOT BARK. He just sits outside the back door and stares at you until you let him in. Matt put on coats, gathered lunches and turned off the lights. Lil’ Rick DID NOT BARK. He just sat there looking in the window.

And Matt left.

Rick got tired of waiting and decided to take a walk on the busy, curvy road near our house, with the added bonus of leaving his collar behind. The good Samaritan that almost hit him scooped him up and took him to the vet in town that we don’t use. *we know this now*

Upon returning home, we realized that we were sans dog. We drove the neighborhood and any major road he might have gotten to, looking for flashes of orange Corgi. We put up dozens of ‘Lost Dog’ signs. We called OUR vet, the local animal shelters and the non-emergency police. Nobody had him.

Yesterday morning, the vet that had him called the animal shelter who immediately called us. Our dog is safe and was warm overnight. Go get him when you can.

Happy Birthday to You.

So now, we have our smelly, blind, deaf, old-man-river-of-a-dog back. I can now go back to waiting for him to die of natural causes, not our inept ability to keep track of creatures that don’t scream at us.

Oh, and here is his picture in case you ever find such smelly, blind, deaf, old-man-river Corgi roaming around your neighborhood. It is probably ours.

And no, we have no plans on getting another animal before Gracie is in college.

Sweet Nothings

To all the parents in Gracie's daycare class:

I AM SO SORRY.

I like to pretend I am nothing like my mother, but I know sometimes I fall directly instep with her tendencies. Like the one to go overboard.

When I think about it though, it really isn't MY fault. It is the daycare director's. And the 6 feet of snow we got. The combination of those two caused the daycare Valentine's Day party to be put off for a week. That means sales. Deep, deep going out of business discounts on heart shaped candy. And because of the snow, I hadn't actually purchased anything for full price in advance.

So this is what I walked out of Walgreen's with and will deliver tomorrow to school.....

Wait, you can't really get how BIG they are from this photo. How about this one?

Yeah, much more to scale. I knew they were very large heart shaped suckers when I purchased them. I didn't quite realize that they were the size of her face.

Or *ahem* 400 calories.

But I figure that after an hour and a few drops on the carpet / kitchen floor / on dog hair, they will be in the garbage anyway. So it's really only like 20 calories, right? Because there is no way any 2 year old could eat that.

Anyway, again I apologize. You have every right to hate me now.

Choices

My days have been moving at the speed of light. My nights have turned to molasses.

Gracie is sick. Again.

She is breathing shallow and sounds like Darth Vader. Yesterday we fought this with an abundance of hot chocolate and she seemed better. Last night, she slept in 45 minute increments and sounded like she had a marble lodged into her airway. I slept, but only on the brink with an eye half open and both ears on alert. Normally I am not one to worry, but the rasping…

Today we are back to the speed of light again. I have a 9am meeting, where I am the meeting, followed by a full day of pokes and prods and a belly full of goo at John’s Hopkins to check on V2. I cannot miss it. Matt has some similar meeting at 10:30am. He cannot miss it.

So we sent our child to school. A little less raspy, but sporting a low grade fever. I feel horrible about it and am calling to get an afternoon sick appointment with Dr. H today.

She, on the other hand, seems absolutely fine with the arrangement. You see, she knows the game and finagled a bribe of 2 gummy bear vitamins, an M&M, part of my bagel and 4 mini pancakes all in exchange for taking a does of Tylenol.

Come to think of it, I think her bargaining attitude puts her well enough to attend school today.

Parenting 101

A lovely picture, isn't it?

The boy's mother must be so proud. The boy must be so proud. Look at that use of Crayola! I mean, come on, in the first grade and already have a framed piece of art in a public building for folks to cast their eyes on. Art aimed to bring comfort to small children, art to give their parents something to stare and talk about while the minutes tick away.

Have you figured out where we are yet? Let's try the freaking PEDIATRIC EMERGENCY ROOM WARD.

Yeah, I failed. Don't worry, everything is 95% fine, but I still failed. I broke a cardinal rule of parenting. "Thou shall not leave thine child unattended on thine bed."

We had a full day yesterday.
-A walk around the neighborhood at 8am, where Grace woke most of our neighbors with shrieks of "Bug! Bug Mama! Ant! Aaaannnnnttttt!"
-At 10am we went swimming.
-At 12pm it was naps all around.
-3pm saw a trip to Rita's for custard and then a park. Sides. Sides! Sides!!!! (Read: Slides)
- And 6pm we were brought back to reality by the large amount of laundry piled on my bed.

Grace was a wonderful helper. As I folded boxer shorts and hung shirts on hangers before they could wrinkle any further, Gracie reigned over the sock pile. She sat in the middle of our bed surrounded by her subjects. She matched them in glory and then flung them into the dungeon. She was enthralled and hadn't moved in about 10 minutes.

So I sinned. I grabbed the massive pile of clothes on hangers and dashed to the next room to deposit them in the closet. They never actually made it into the closet.

THUNK...... followed by cries.

The hair on the back of my neck stood at attention. Grace was on the floor.

She was quickly calmed, but wouldn't put any weight on her left leg. We quickly located the source of pain, the instep of her left foot. Flooded with memories of past childhood injuries, we quickly loaded Gracie up to have it checked out.

By the time the x-rays had been taken and the overly compassionate pediatric doctor came into our little room to give the final report, Gracie was walking like nothing had ever happened. Squatting down on little kiddie hams in an attempt to find further imaginary ants at 9pm in the emergency room.

Rest assured, the doctor told us, there is no breaks or fractures. You were absolutely right to bring her in though, you can never tell with a two year old. If she is still walking funny in a day or two bring her to her regular pediatrician. Otherwise, she is just fine.

This morning, we still have a limp. I am glad we took her last night, because I wold have wanted to go this morning, just to be sure. Bruises still hurt though. Especially ones that take all the pressure of your body weight. Hopefully we will be able to speed up the healing process with all the extra love and ice cream that will be coming in the next few days though.

The Smell of Wet Wool

Before I could even sit down at my desk today I was asked about my weekend.

Did you go to the Sheep and Wool Festival? How was it? He inquired.

My response? Horrible.

Grace loves making animal noises, so I figured why not go see some sheep. The festival was free and minutes away from my house.

It was pouring rain, but I was prepared for that.

I dressed in capri’s and my super cute donkey boots and outfitted Grace with the knock-off Crocs I bought for the upcoming summer. Neither one of us own a proper rain coat, but we’d be fine with an umbrella. Most of the exhibits are in pavilions anyway.

I was shocked at how many cars there were in the mud filled parking lot. Given the crowds and the aforementioned mud, I decided to skip the stroller.

*Mistake #1*

About ¾ of the way to the first pavilion filled with sheep, my lower back started to spasm. Grace in my left arm, the umbrella being held over us with my right and my spine in an unnatural position sloshing though puddles.

The sanctuary of our first pavilion didn’t last long. Grace was excited about the sheep for about 10 seconds.

Then one looked at her and Baa-ed.

She started backing away from the animals, finger out wiggling back and forth, with a trail of shrill No No No’s to go with it.

Up Mama. Up. No No No. All Done. No Mama. Up up.

Silly me. I thought she would be excited over the animals.

*Mistake #2*

So we wound our way through craft pavilions filled with yarns in every imaginable hue and texture. It was beautiful, except for the fact that my back was spasming again because Grace refused to walk - in fear of the sheep that are now 100 feet away, not to mention caged and leashed.

Why didn’t I bring the front-pack baby carrier that we’ve only used 2 or 3 times?

*Mistake #3*

After two pavilions, Grace starts to relax and wants to walk.

Fantastic!

Except she no longer wants to be picked up for transport between the pavilions or hold my hand in the crowds. After several smiles from strangers and declarations of her beauty, she has a melt down right in the middle of an entrance.

I can see the smiles melt off strangers faces and she proceeds to have her first official toddleresque lay-down-on-the-ground-screaming-and-flailing-in-a-public-place tantrum ever.

Whatever.

I could care less about the strangers faces, but have you picked up on the fact that we are in an agricultural environment? Her back was now coated in the filth of rainy days and barnyard animals. Which then transferred to me when I hoisted her off the ground.

*Mistake #4*

On the way back to the car she started to do the arching pissed-off baby yoga in my aching arms and I gave in. I put her down on the ground. I crouched down, trying to keep her head dry with my umbrella (and getting poured on myself) while she happily splashed in puddles and got admiring coos from passerbys. (The knitting crowd is an easy target.)

Anyway, in the middle of all the splashing and cooing - splat - down she went. Thankfully it was right before a big puddle, but the shins of her pants are soaked and covered with mud. I gave up on the umbrella and collapsed it for the next portion of the adventure.

Picking up a pissed-off, muddy, wet child who is screaming, doing baby yoga and kicking me in the stomach for my efforts.

*Mistake #5*

We dash through the rain back to our car in the crowded parking lot. It was kind of like being at the mall. I was stalked by and SUV looking for a closer parking spot.

So I'm trying to make a pissed-off, muddy, wet child who is in full blown snot-filled hysterics, sit still so I can buckle her into her car seat - with a car humming and eyes boring holes into the back of my head watching this whole scene take place.

I really did think about just letting her lie on the floor for the 12 minute car ride home.

*Did Not Make Mistake #6*

I wanted to, but I didn't. I held her down until she relaxed enough to snap the belts closed. Then spent 3 more minutes trying to peel off my coat - sweat soaked on the inside and rain soaked on the outside.

And that - dear coworker - was my hour at the Sheep and Wool Festival.

No, no I don't think we'll be going back next year.

Forget Me Not

We hit another first yesterday.

It was more my milestone in motherhood and parenting, or lack there of, though. Yesterday, I FORGOT Gracie at daycare.

Not for very long. It's not like I left her at the airport or anything.

She spent an extra 3 minutes in the classroom that she loves so much, but I know she spent it waiting for me. She knows the schedule. She knows sometime around 3:45pm my face will come around the corner.

My excuse for forgetting her? She's been sick (no pickup duty) and I am easily distracted.

We arrived a little at daycare a little later than normal, which means I signed into work a little later than normal. Which means we will get home a little later than normal. Which means I was thinking about what we were going to have for dinner that could be created in half an hour's time.

My mind was going through freezer and pantry items, lists of work that needed to be completed before the weekend, plans for the weekend, plans for the month of April.... and zip.

Right by the daycare.

Right onto the the road.

I didn't get far.

I realized my mistake as I was turning out onto the main road and was quickly able to do a U turn and head right back in. I was only home in my head when I realized that there was no head bobbing along to Pink and Lady GaGa in the backseat.

Not before I got a disapproving snuff from a security guard though.

Foaming at the Mouth

We have a 12th tooth. Top right, in front of the molar.

With this tooth, Grace now has almost all of her right teeth, and none on the left. It is kind of funny. Luckily, the general public cannot see the imbalance because I am sure that it is just one more thing that every senior citizen at the grocery store would want to talk to me about.

The arrival of the dozenth has been much more pleasant than it’s younger sister, #11, but with 12 we have instituted a whole new routine that isn’t going very well yet.

Tooth brushing.

It’s not problematic because Gracie is fighting it. Oh no. Just the opposite. She L-O-V-E-S it. To the point of not wanting to give up the toothbrush. Ever.

Grace has always been fascinated with tooth brushing. Even at weeks old, she was always fixated on the motion of Matt brushing his teeth. Whenever she is around, he bends over to show her how to make the little circles.

I know we should have been brushing her from birth. Everything you read says to use a little finger nub to brush and massage gums.

Are you kidding me? Really? Really?? Like I don’t have enough going on, I’m going to worry about brushing her gums??

Pediatric dentists say you should bring your kid in by the time their 1 for their first assessment. Normal people say 3. The normal people also have been saying though that you should be brushing baby teeth as soon as they come in.

OK, so we’re a little behind the eight ball on this one too, but give me a break. Better late than never, right?

For all the things and topics that people love to give advice to on, how come I have never heard one peep about tooth brushing?

This battle, our battle, is Gracie’s desire to brush her teeth until the end of time.

I putt a little dab of mixed berry flavored fluoride-free toddler toothpaste on her miniature brush and it begins.

- She smiles and lets me make little circles for about 3 seconds.
- Then she grabs the brush, sucks the toothpaste off and hands it back to me.
- I try and brush the back molars.
- She grabs the brush again and tries to make back and forth brushing motions while chomping on the bristles.
- I get the brush again and try for the other side.
- Grace takes control once more and dips the brush into the tub, picking up some bubbles on the way, and stuffs the brush back into her mouth.
- I am handed the brush and she smiles so I can make little circles on her front teeth for 3 more seconds.

And it goes like this for 15 minutes, or until the pry the brush out of her hand – wherein she realizes that I am taking her beloved toothbrush away and starts screaming – so I then try to distract her with the big, noisy Winnie-the-Pooh bubble blower that is stuck to the side of the tub.

It’s exhausting. It’s only been a week, but something has to change. I cannot do tub battle every night.

Maybe if I find a cute egg timer we can set up a system where she knows that she brushes for 5 minutes and then it is over. Hmmm. That might work. It also might come in handy for when she starts to decide that she DOESN’T want to brush her teeth anymore too.

VaCa - Day 3

TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 4

Tuesday was low key. I hardly remember what we did, therefore it was a great day.

It was Election Day, therefore it was a great day. We cast our ballots via absentee vote two weeks early, so our consciouses were clear.

And Nassau kind of is a Miami Jr. It is mainly Americans at the resorts, Miami TV stations and Obama ’08 campaign signs scattered throughout the streets. It was impossible to sit at a restaurant without being quizzed by locals about out thoughts on the election.

Normally, in the US, I would have been irritated about it. In the Bahamas though, it was refreshing. It wasn’t prying. It wasn’t judgmental. It was hopeful. It was optimistic. It was wonderful.

So the four of us sat, just as we would have back home, flipping between CNN and MSNBC. Yeah, I know, I hate MSNBC too, but it was all we had. And quite funny at times.

Oh, but what did we actually do on Tuesday? Like I said a whole lot of nothing. We sat by the pool. We drank $10 frozen drinks with obscene amounts of rum in them. We turned Gracie blue.

You caught that last one, huh?

So under the header of slight neglect again, I’ve come to the grateful realization that Grace doesn’t have any surfaced allergies yet and isn’t sensitive to detergents. So we’ve made the switch back to my Tide with fabric softener built in. I’ve also stopped washing clothes before she wears them the first time. I figure, I don’t do that for myself, and she doesn’t break out in a rash, so why bother?

Not turning the baby blue is why I should bother.

We received a pretty dress that my friend bought us in Africa. I thought would be a perfect swimsuit cover-up for Grace when we were at the pools. It was a long, vibrant teal dress with a black floral print.

That first wearing of the dress didn’t go so well. In preparation for the walk back to our condo, I threw the dress over Grace’s wet suit, handed her to Jen for a few minutes and loaded her into the stroller. On the way back, Jen noticed her hands were blue. Odd. She must have touched something that had just been painted and was still wet.

Then we got back to the condo.

As I stripped Grace’s dress off, mystery solved. The teal was bleeding all over the stoller, her white suit and dying her skin.

I immediately threw the dress and suit in the washing machine, figuring at least it would come out a uniform blue. In the end the suit did turn back to white (thank you cheap Walmart fabrics!) and the dress came out with ½ the color intensity.

Yeah, the baby did stay Smurf-like for a day or two, but it was worth it for the giggle factor. And did I learn a lesson? Hell no. Things would've had to end a lot worse than that to get me to start doing extra loads of laundry. Maybe I will start washing foreign imports before putting them 0n her though.

VaCa - Day 1

SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 2

Our 1st day was beautiful. As always, Grace traveled well, falling asleep during take off and waking to the ding of the landing. She was pure sunshine the entire day.

Then came the bath.

The tub in our room wasn't practical for leaning and scrubbing, so we went with the bathroom sink. It wasn't very practical either. A little too small and deeply curved. Not good for sitting a child in while bathing at all, but I figured we would be quick and the bath would be over in minutes.

Everything depended on the precarious relationship between the friction of a dry baby butt on the porcelain curve of the sink.

It gave way midway through the shampoo. I can still see the moment in slow motion.

The stick failed and Gracie rushed down the side of the sink like a fantastic ride. I think she actually was having fun in that split second before - WHACK- the crack of the back of her scull on the edge of the sink.

I grabbed her and held my breath. 1. 2. 3…..

And then she let out the most blood curdling scream. It only lasted a few minutes though. No actual blood, no lumps, no bruising. Just bad judgment and slight neglect on my part.

Shit happens and babies bounce. Thankfully that was the only bounce of the trip.