My baby sister Lorelai comed out! She comed out, and she’s not going back in!
My mom drived me to Grandma’s again. We were drawing at Grandma’s, but I didn’t take the colors or the color books. Wednesday Grandma was leaving without me and Linda. Then I was watching a movie at Grandma’s house with Grandpa. I was sitting with Grandpa and I was watching my show. We also eat some donuts. That was my breakfast, but Grandpa eat them all.
My poor baby is sick. She spiked a fever last night and puked all over me. I don’t handle that well when I’m not pregnant. She slept with me last night so I could keep an eye on her and keep her fever down all night. I had no idea she was a sleep talker. She’s a light sleeper and prefers to be shut in her room all alone to sleep. This is the first time she’s really been sick, aside from numerous infant ear infections that we discovered were caused by allergies.
I think she may well be my worst patient ever—which says a lot considering the big baby I’m married to. Stacia is content to sleep off any illness and not bother anyone. Brenia is cranky, whiny, and not so good at the “taking it easy” part. She did, however, have some rather comical things to say:
- I’m not sick; I’m fever.
- My sick is bye-bye now.
- I’m tired of sick.
I will admit to being part-geek, though I don’t come close to my Super!Geek husband. I’m pretty sure the Countdown to Serenity in my head coupled with my intense love of Star Wars—and the fact that I own a $200 lightsaber—qualifies me as half-geek. Our poor kids didn’t have a chance. Need proof, as all good geeks do?
We watched this really funny movie. It was rated E for Everyone!” ~Stacia
This potty training business is going nowhere. I was really hoping to not have 2 in diapers, but doesn’t look like that will work out. On our good days, we can keep the flowers (aren’t PullUps grand?) all day, but she says “I like to poop in my pants.” How could anyone like that?
Today she announced that she would wear panties. I thought maybe we were having a break through. I put them on her and reminded her that if she wanted to wear big girl panties, she had to use the potty like a big girl. Okay. She went a few times throughout the morning, as proud as can be. Before lunch, I reminded her to potty again. She said she didn’t need to go. Turns out, she didn’t want to go. Next thing I know, she’s naked and handing me wet pants.
After a quick cleanup and PullUp, she wanted to watch a movie.
“Baby’s don’t watch television.”
“I not a baby!”
“You just peed in your pants like a baby.”
“It’s okay.”
“Um, no it’s not. It most certainly is not okay to pee in your pants.”
This resulted in a lot of tears as I refused to turn on the television. I’m not sure it’s having any impact. Last week while I was at the store buying the week’s supply of PullUps, she used the last one. Daddy scrounged up an old diaper for her, which she was not happy about. As soon as I got home with her “Rella panties,” she insisted on changing. So I decided maybe she just really likes her Cinerella PullUps and I should quit buying them. Tomorrow I’m buying a supply of baby diapers. If it works, they will still eventually get used.
Day three and I already get called to the school for an injury. Yesterday, as I was on my way to the school to drop off her daily allergy meds I got a call from the nurse first. Stacia fell on the playground and the nurse said she was screaming and crying pretty hard. This is not new. She screams when she gets a small scratch. I asked how it looked and was told it may be “borderline” for stitches. She said it was bad enough to call me so I went to take a look. While it was pretty gruesome, it didn’t look that deep.
I was thinking she’d be fine, but since last time I checked I never went to med school I called the pediatrician. She does sutures and liquid skin in her office. I’m thinking this will be easy, in and out of the doctor’s office. No such luck. With Stacia’s near-panic and the location of the wound we were sent to the ER—where they “have more nurses to help.” Yes, you could hear the terror in Stacia’s voice second-hand through the phone line.
Off we went to the ER—not that I told Stacia that. I simply said we needed to have a doctor look at it. She didn’t notice when we passed right by the pediatrician’s office or when I pulled into the parking lot marked “Hospital.” So far, so good. Then we get inside the door. Sometimes it sucks that she can read.
“Emergency?! I am not going in there.”
I spotted the wheelchairs and offered to push her in. She limped her way to the chair and sat down for the ride. They took her right back and I was rather impressed. The speed ended there. An hour later, they covered her knee with “numbing gel” and said the doctor would be back in 10 minutes.
10 minutes became an hour. Her knee still wasn’t numb, or so she said. He added more gel and came back half an hour later. She laid in my lap and we covered her eyes. He started with a Q-Tip which had her reeling and screaming in terror. Obviously all that gel didn’t do shit. Needle it is. Oh, the horror! It worked wonders though and the stitches began while Stacia asked “what are they doing?”
When he got to the final stitch though, it was clear she wasn’t numb there. It is such torture to hold your child down and let someone inflict pain on her. Of course, it’s all cool now because everyone wanted to see her stitches at school today. She’s just mad she can’t do gym or recess for 10 days.
We have a daily ritual—the after-school snack. Dinner is not until 7, and my kids are on full feed, so no way am I stupid enough to expect them to last 7 hours between meals. Lately, the “snack” has taken on a life of its own. Yesterday, she fixed cinnamon toast. Not just one piece as you might expect for a snack, but a plate more full than she would eat for breakfast.
Today, she’s having leftover chicken dumplings. Her choice after I vetoed the chili. The little one isn’t much better. I asked her what she wanted for snack and she said “peanut butter.”
“You want a peanut butter sandwich. For snack. Really?”
“No. I jess want peanut butter.”
My family is so weird.