Friday, June 27, 2008

Summer Vacation

With the start of summer vacation, I have finally figured out that I am not repeatedly getting sick. Or rather, not getting sick with a gastro-intestinal bug as was initially speculated by the ER back in May. No, you go a couple of weeks, and have the same issue (less severe) and then repeat that the next week (severe, but without the dehydration that required the ER), you start to figure out that something is wrong. What precisely is wrong, is up to speculation again, but something more serious than a 24 hour bug is working me over.

Lactose intolerance is a likely suspect. So I have given up dairy for the time being. I expect to wear black until next June.

Other possibilities are pretty much all so complicated and dire that they require a specialist. I'm scheduled for July 22. I figure if I get up to 10 lbs lost in two weeks, I'll call and ask for another appointment.

Q, while himself capable of patiently sitting still for nearly an hour at an intimate double bass concert, has been straining our patience levels lately. So we refreshed our time out skills and he's responded quickly. But the poor kid isn't sleeping that well, and he's out of his nice preschool structure, so it's not surprising that he's been having more tantrums and whining fits than usual.

Wednesday night, he woke up from a nightmare, but not quite. J lay down next to him in bed, but Q simply kept yelling "No!" and kicking his legs, refusing to open his eyes or be soothed. J picked him up and carried him downstairs, hoping the change of venue would wake him enough to shake off the bad dream. Halfway down, Q stops screaming, and says calmly, "I want some ice cream," cracking both of us up. J brought him outside and showed him a lone firefly on our lawn. All very well and good, but he still wanted some ice cream. Sorry buddy.

I think Q's problem is that right now Noodle is learning a lot of new skills at once. She's walking now. The furthest she's managed is across the living room, but she's made vast progress in just two weeks. She's also saying 'Hi!' to strangers, and grinning her funny gap toothed smile, which no one can resist. Or, also amusing to strangers, staring suspiciously at them. She peers seriously into books, cuddles, and gets into trouble constantly. She has simply hit that absolutely adorable toddler stage and requires a lot of attention. And rewards it.

Today she discovered the pacifier stash. Since she no longer constantly needs a pacifier, we've been stashing them near her crib for bedtimes, when they're really quite helpful. As I was doing laundry today, she discovered the bin and pulled out a pacifier and tried it out. But there's another one! She spits out the first, inserts the next. Oooh! Wait! Another pacifier! She spits out the second, inserts the third. Whenever left unattended this afternoon, she'd make her way back to the bin and start trying on pacifiers like they were swimsuits. I'm sure the perfect fit is in here somewhere.

Sunday, June 15, 2008

Weekend of Indulgence

After months of asking when he would turn 4, suddenly Q's birthday has come and gone without the tremendous exhilaration or infamous tantrums one would expect with so much anticipation. Is it possible that we could have fulfilled all his preschooler fantasies without building them into a frenzy? I have this dark suspicion that this last week of preschool will be filled with the disappointment of discovering that every day is not filled with lovely adventures, cake, presents and attention. Then we'll see some frenzied tantrums.

Friday we had the traditional picnic at Cedar Lake with cake. Q raced off to play in the sand with the child featured in last year's birthday photos, referred to internally as the 'resident' kid. This year they are both nearing four and civilized behavior and cooperative play came more easily. We barely saw Q the first hour. He was busy.

So Noodle reaped the benefits of having the nearly undistracted attention of 5 doting adults. She was thrilled. And, contrary to most days, photogenic:

She's greeting these early months of her second year with eagerness. Over the weekend she suddenly decided that last week's solo step repeated in various locations is just baby stuff and demonstrated a surprising new ability to string together several steps (up to 6 so far!). Oddly enough, she's best at it when she's tired. She's abandoned the hairball sound used to identify cats in favor of a sound equally ghastly for feline ears: the simple high pitched shriek. Although 'de-de' is still used to identify Daddy, babies, kitties and sometimes confusing undetermined items, she now prefers her new word, "this". Combined with pointing, it has proved itself an effective and satisfying word.

I have resisted the temptation to post the photo of Noodle being wiped clean of cake, looking at my mother with evident dislike on her face

Much to my delight, Q was delighted with every present he opened. A semaphore (go look it up and find out if I spelled it right) brought out a long and detailed explanation. He's now sleeping with it. Just in case.

And, much to my foolish joy, Q's beloved Excavator is returned to his arms.

Sunday, June 01, 2008

Minor Injury Report

So Q had his first sports related injury in T-ball this past Thursday. Because Mom and Dad were there to witness the disaster, he was unable to continue with Preschool that day. Sadly, from my distant perspective it was terribly funny: one of the moms hit the t-ball, which flew straight out to smack him in the face. It seemed like a scene in a movie. (The mother felt awful and I'm sure I'd be scarred for life if it had been me that hit the ball.) Q seems to have recovered, since the next day he and a preschool buddy were deliberately throwing a ball into each other's faces.

Today I determined that I was courageous enough to attempt to trim Noodle's hair. I was mostly afraid that I would mangle the job and she would end up looking like someone tried to trim her hair in the dark. Turns out, that should've been the least of my worries. I didn't notice that she moved mid-trim, turning to yell at me. I scolded her. "It doesn't hurt to get your hair cut." Oh, yes, I guess it does hurt if your mother slices off your ear. The flow of blood down her shoulder being the tip-off. Luckily she's really hard to phase over something like this. She continued to bleed for probably half an hour of my attempts to staunch the flow with various strategies, but she was totally unconcerned after the initial protest.

Sadly, I think her hair looks a little like I tried to trim it in the dark.