The Attack

The mighty hunter carefully chose his weapon.  "Baby Betsy Wetsy will do just fine," he decides with satisfaction.  He goes to the kitchen sink and loads his weapon, a pink plastic bottle.  Then he sneaks out to the living room where his unsuspecting victim is quietly reading books.  

The hunter carefully aims Betsy Wetsy's nether regions at his victim and squeezes the trigger of the bottle with all his might, aiming a mighty stream of water down Betsy-Wetsy's throat and out her bottom.

The victim doesn't even notice until a few minutes later when her back starts to feel damp and cold.  "Wet," she mutters with dissatisfaction.  "Wet," she repeats as she strips off her clothes.  The mighty hunter, while disappointed that his efforts went largely unnoticed, doesn't let it bother him for long and he goes off in pursuit of bigger game(s).

This Is Why I Don't Get Enough Exercise Anymore

I recently was inspired to begin a Couch to 5K program.  Awhile back I did this and it was amazing, but then life interfered and I ended up back on the couch.  The past few months, I've been determined to get in better shape and have been doing my best to work out every day that I can.  Sometimes I do workout DVDs (30-Day Shred is my current favorite) but three nights a week, I run on my treadmill.

 

Ron had to work yesterday but I really, really wanted to do a 20-minute run.  The kids and I headed downstairs, where I set up lots and lots of toys and turned on a movie for them while I hopped on the treadmill.

 

Minute 1...so far, so good. 

Minute 2...this is almost too good to be true, still no interruptions.

Minute 3....Sam: "I have to go poop!  I have to go poop!"  He went upstairs and I followed a minute later to render butt-wiping services.

 

Back downstairs.  My heartrate is back to normal, so I figure I should start over at the beginning again (keep in mind, the first 5 minutes is a warm-up of quick walking - I hadn't even started running yet before this first interruption).

 

Minute 1 through 5...all is well

Minute 6...FINALLY, I'm actually running. 

Minute 6 1/2: Evidently someone forgot to close the door, because I hear Natalie heading up the stairs.  I'm determined to run at least one minute uninterrupted and figure I have 30 seconds before I need to go get her.  After all, she goes up and down the stairs all the time and has never fallen before.

Minute 6 3/4:  thunk thunk thunkthunkthunkTHUNK

 

I had the presence of mind to hit the "stop" button on the treadmill before charging up the stairs, since I know Sammy was likely to try to get on the treadmill the minute I step off.  After all, it would be a bit embarrassing to bring BOTH kids to the emergency room for treatment in the same night.  I charged up the stairs at full speed and found Natalie on the landing, still lying just as she had landed.  From the sound of it, she had fallen down the entire first flight of stairs, about 8 of them.  She was shirtless - pretty typical, since both my kids seem to be budding exhibitionists - and when she sat up, I could see a red spot on her shoulder where she had evidently taken the biggest hit from the fall but quick once-over revealed no broken bones.  For once it was only 4:00 in the afternoon when a potential head injury occurred.  Usually, all major falls at our house happen right at bedtime and I am then compelled to wake up the fall-ee hour upon hour for the first part of the night.  Luckily, all was well and nothing seemed to be injured but her ego.  And my will to exercise.

Having Kids Is Finally Starting to Pay Off

I sat around, ate bon-bons and caught up on my soaps while the kids did this:

(And no, I don't really watch soaps.  No comment on the bon-bons.)

Good Times and Bad Times

When Sammy was 2 1/2, that was a really rough age for me. It seemed he was constantly testing the limits, throwing tantrums, and generally being a pain in the butt. Not that there weren't good times, too, but in general, it was very trying for me.

Then, shortly before he turned 3, things turned around. He became an easy-going, happy child. He still throws an occasional tantrum, or willfully defies me, but I can usually turn things around pretty quickly. Sunday, he didn't nap (par for the course on the weekends these days) so by 6:00 he was falling apart with tiredness. After about half an hour of butting heads with him over EVERYTHING, he came up to me and said, "I need a hug and a kiss." We snuggled for a few minutes, and then I had a talk with him about how tired he was, and that that was probably why he was having such a hard time listening. Wouldn't you know, after that he acted like an angel until bedtime at 7:00. Easy peasy.

So, what's this I've always heard about the 3's being so much more terrible than the 2's? Unfortunately, I've discovered this current behavior is probably a short-lived phase. I read a study recently that basically said that children tend to be easy-going and well-behaved around their birthdays. Around their half-birthdays, they go through a phase where everything changes and their behavior becomes disruptive, defiant, and lock-yourself-in-the-bathroom-and-have-a-good-scream inducing. (Sorry, I did a quick Google search, and couldn't figure out the right combination of keywords to link to the study. You'll just have to take my word for it, unless I can come up with the citation later.)

The biggest problem for me is that my kids are about a year and a half apart in age. If you do the math, you'll see that we will always have a kid going through the difficult phase. This is proving true right now - Natalie is going through a difficult stage, while Sammy has been well-behaved.

I also have a copy of a "Cycles of Development" chart from The Gesell Institute of Child Development, but that is even less encouraging. I don't know if I can legally scan in the chart and post it here, but the citation on the bottom of the sheet says the Gesell Institute books are available at your public library. The cycles are: A) Smooth; B) Breakup; C) Sorting-Out; D)Inwardizing; E) Expansion; and F) "Neurotic". I don't exactly know the definitions of all those categories, but "smooth" is the only one that sounds promising to me. The only ages under the "smooth" phase are: 4 weeks, 40 weeks, 2 years, 5 years, 10 years, and 16 years. That seems like an awful lot of time spent in cycles B through F.

Maybe no one but me is interested in this sort of thing, so I'm sorry if I've bored you to tears! (I have a degree in psychology, so obviously I find the brain fascinating.)

What I Did On My Christmas Vacation

My vacation, by the numbers:

3...Christmas celebrations with various branches of the family

1...Trip to the Children's Museum

1...Case of the stomach flu, probably a memento from one of the patrons of the Children's Museum

2...Trips to the sledding hill

84...Trips up the sledding hill

7,483...approximate number of times I inflated and released rocket balloons for the kids (the orange thing in the upper right hand corner, for the uninitiated)

12...rocket balloons which popped

12...number of near heart attacks resulting from the balloons popping*

846...approximate number of times I chased Natalie off of the kitchen table

2...pairs of mittens knitted for the little kid-ens who are always losing their mittens

3...forts built and demolished

18...art projects started and abandoned at various stages of completion

23...different "potsicle horses" created to amuse the kids (If Sammy reaches elementary school without knowing how to properly say "obstacle courses", I take full responsibility.  I find it so hilarious that I can't help but do exactly what you're not supposed to do, and I use the phrase myself.)

*For those who don't already know, I am deathly afraid of loud noises, i.e. popping balloons, cars backfiring, and gunfire.  I think the fact that I tolerated so much balloon play over our vacation should earn me some extra Mommy Brownie Points (MBPs).  Possibly to cancel out the MBPs deducted when I lost my temper at the kids for being kids and getting fingerpaint all over every.square.inch of the kitchen table, their clothes, and their bodies during one of our art projects.

Living in a Winter Wonderland

It has been so freaking cold this winter.  I'm disappointed, because we couldn't go to the Holidazzle Parade this year, and we also haven't been able to take advantage of free ice-skating. You see, I'm rather fond of my kids - I'd hate to lose them to hypothermia.  So we've been spending A LOT of time indoors.  My sanity is suffering because of it.  Do you know what it's like to be trapped inside a smallish house with two kids under the age of three for AN ENTIRE WEEKEND?  I'd imagine it's a lot like being pecked to death by chickens.  Really loud chickens.  Who like to risk their necks by climbing up on tall things, and also? pulling every single tissue out of a Kleenex box, one by one, leaving a sodden mess on the living room carpet.  Because OF COURSE Kleenex must also be shredded into tasty bite-size pieces, then chewed up and spit out after the flavor is gone.

But!  On Saturday, it was actually warm outside.  (Ha - everything is relative.  Three months ago, I would have called 20 degrees unbearable.  Now, I'm all like, is that with a minus sign in front or not?  Did you say above zero?  Pour me a pina colada!)  

In addition to being warm, we got about 5 inches of snow.  So we bundled up and went outside to enjoy the brief respite from below-zero temperatures.  Approximately 12 hours later, the temperature dropped 40 degrees and we were dropped harshly back to the reality that is winter in Minnesota.

(Not long after this picture was taken, Natalie realized there was no hope of getting back up on her own while wearing all that clothing.  After that whenever she fell, she lay on her back, like an overturned turtle, waiting patiently for someone to come and help her stand up again.)

The Blue Dress

Natalie has a closetful of beautiful dresses, as most little girls do. Ron, who dresses the kids in the morning and drops them off at daycare, chooses to dress her in practical jeans and tops during the week. So, on the weekends when I choose her clothing, I usually put her in a dress.

Yesterday, I chose a beautiful deep blue velvet dress for her, and as she walked through the living room afterwards, I exclaimed over how beautiful she looked. Sammy, who was sitting on the couch watching TV, hardly glanced up as he commented, "She looks like a big blueberry."

Are boys are just born to say things like that? I think have my work cut out for me, to mold him into a caring, supportive man.

The Potty Chair

We haven't been hitting potty training too hard yet. It's difficult to be consistent with Sammy being at daycare part of the day. My current plan is to tackle potty training for real the week after Christmas, when I'm on vacation.




However. We have been working on getting him on the potty when it's obvious he "assumes the position" (that is, he hides in the corner and gets a look of concentration on his face). Over the weekend, he agreed to sit on his potty, so I set him up with a book and asked if he wanted me to keep him company, or if he wanted privacy. He opted for "pwivacy", so I scooped up the gawking bystander Natalie and closed the door.



Five minutes later, he announced he was done, and I oohed and aahed over the contents of the potty chair, before dumping it in the toilet. We went to his room for a fresh diaper. Afterwards, I stopped by the bathroom to shut off the light, and found this:


And afterwards, she oohed and aahed over the contents of the (empty) potty chair.

I'm thinking that there may be a bright side to the fact that Natalie wants to copy everything her big brother does.

(I apologize for the picture quality - it was taken with my camera phone, which is sadly still the only working camera in our house. Oh, and don't you love our beautiful pink bathroom. Ugh.)

Helping Out

Natalie was still awake last night when I was taking my shower. I just started lathering my hair when she pulled the curtain back, spotted the water dripping from the spigot and dipped her hands into it. Then I heard her head out of the bathroom and down the hall.

Thirty seconds later, Natalie was back. She repeated her strange ritual. Thirty seconds later, again. And again. When I got out of the shower, she came into the bathroom, opened the washcloth drawer and took one out, then gestured at the faucet and said "eh, eh, eh". I asked her if she wanted me to turn it on, and she nodded her head "yes". She put the washcloth under the stream of water, looked at it and apparently decided it wasn't wet enough, and put it under the water again. When she was finally satisfied that there was enough water on the washcloth, she headed out of the bathroom and down the hall.

By this time, I was really curious so I quietly followed her. What I saw in the living room was this: The TV was tuned in to a football game. Ron was lying on the floor, staring at the TV. And Natalie was rubbing the washcloth into Ron's already-damp hair.

I guess she had decided he needed his hair washed, and was accomplishing the job slowly but surely. She must have known that Ron starts his new job today, and wanted him to look good for his first day.

Better Late Than Never

Since Natalie's 2nd birthday is only 11 months away, I thought it would be fun to take a look back at some pictures from her first birthday party.  

It was a rainy, dreary day, but the kids still enjoyed themselves.  Except for when Natalie fell off the picnic bench onto the hard cement floor.  And when she got run over by Sam on his trike.  But, other than that, fun was had by all.

Pictures

I know, I know, I still haven't posted about Natalie's birthday party! I did finally manage to get the pictures off the camera, and make a slideshow on my Mac, but now I'm trying to figure out how to upload my iPhoto slideshow to Blogger. I don't know if the file's too big or what, but it's not going through.



Here are a couple of pictures in the meantime:

This was the actual day of her birthday. She looks thrilled. Come on, kid, you're only turning 1, not...30 or anything.

Since this picture was taken, the right (or wrong, in my opinion) combination of synapses have connected in her brain, and she now realizes she can drag a chair over beside any previously-out-of-reach shelf, then climb up and reach - oh, the telephone, my sewing scissors, you-name-it.

Close Encounters of the Fungi Kind

Before having kids, I used to have a beautiful vegetable garden every summer. Each fall, I would can, freeze, and pressure cook vegetables until the pantry was full and I had lost half of my body weight in sweat from working in the steamy kitchen. But no more. Turns out, vegetables really don't do well when surrounded by weeds three times as high as they are. Who knew?

Luckily for me, raspberries have no such requirements. In fact, if this year's crop is any indication, they seem to thrive on neglect. I've been picking raspberries every other day, and ending up with approximately 4 cups of berries with each picking. In the coming days, I'll post some of the recipes that I've been experimenting with in my attempts to use up all these berries.
Last night, I made a fresh berry tiramisu. It turned out to be a lot of work, especially since I had two whiny children at my feet and in my hair (and it turns out, they can be both places simultaneously). At one point, I was starting to lose my temper, so I decided to step outside to get some fresh air and get away from it all for a minute. The problem is, "it all" followed me outside. Natalie wouldn't let me put her down, so she came out with me by default. And Sammy came running behind me, in his sock feet, saying, "Mommy, I want to come with! Don't leave me!" So instead of going for a short walk, like I had intended, I sat down in the grass and put my head in my hands for a brief meditation while the kids milled around.

It wasn't long before I heard Sammy say, "Natalie, don't eat that! Mom, Natalie's eating something!" Thinking she was eating a blade of grass, or a weed, I didn't react at first. When he repeated it, I finally looked up to see Natalie spitting something out, and Sammy pointing at the humongous mushroom she had just sampled.

Um. It seems that every story I've heard about amateur mushroom hunters hasn't turned out well. And even though it didn't look like she had actually swallowed any of it, I had no idea how much of that particular mushroom it would take to cause ill effects. So, I gathered the kids up and ran in the house to make my first call to Poison Control.

The man on the other end of the line was very helpful. He had me describe the mushroom, and reassured me that it didn't sound like it was an overly toxic mushroom, but to be safe, he wanted me to take a picture and email it to him. I did that, and a few minutes later, he called me back to say that the worst she would probably experience was stomach upset. And since I thought she hadn't swallowed much, that odds were she wouldn't have any symptoms whatsoever but if she did start showing symptoms, to call him back right away.

She ate supper shortly after that, and went to sleep. Of course, I checked on her all night long but she was totally fine. So, all's well that ends well.

Edited to add: The Poison Control called back this morning to follow up. I'm very impressed at their helpfulness! Although I hope I won't have to do any more "business" with them.

Random Musings

Natalie only has four words in her vocabulary right now, plus about a half-dozen animal sounds. Do animal sounds count as words? They're a lot harder to work into casual conversation - "That's a moo point. It's like a cow's opinion. It doesn't matter."

But despite her lack of words, she can hold entire conversations with just the sound "eh". "Eh, eh eh eh eh EH!"means, "I was playing with that toy, Sam! Give it back RIGHT NOW!" And "Eh eh EH eh eh," (accompanied by a pointing finger) means, "I'd like a snack. Preferably those animal crackers I see on the counter right there."

****************************************************
On an unrelated topic, hooray for the new TV season!* Last night, I eagerly scrolled through my DVR listings to find Monday night's new episode of Two and a Half Men. Hmm. That's strange, it wasn't there. Come to find out, someone deleted the program off the list of timers (Ron later fessed up). No worries, though. I was able to hop online and find the full episode and watch it anyway.

That got me thinking about all the things my kids are going to take for granted. They'll never know a time before being able to pause and rewind live TV, skip through commercials, and record TV programs with a couple clicks of a remote. They'll never remember what it was like before internet and the ability to instantly download TV shows, movies, and radio programs from around the world. They'll never know what life was like before iPods, cell phones, or text messaging.

Just like the things that I've grown up with, and taken for granted. Things that didn't exist a generation or two ago - like televisions and microwave ovens. Doesn't it make you wonder what life will be like for our grandchildren?

*Did anyone else watch Worst Week? The last thing I need is another television show on my DVR, but the first episode was freaking hilarious. I'm a little skeptical that they'll be able to keep up that level of humor, but I'll definitely be watching that one again.

The Dreaded One-Year Checkup

Natalie had her one-year well-baby checkup yesterday. Dread is not a strong enough word to describe how I felt about the upcoming appointment.

Let me explain why. Twenty months ago, Sammy had his one-year appointment, and I expected that the shots would be the worst part of it all. As usual, he cried when he got the shots but got over them quickly. Then...the blood draw. You see, at our pediatrician's office, they want to check lead levels and hemoglobin levels at twelve months old. So, they stuck Sammy's finger and he instantly started screaming. It took an eternity for them to squeeze out enough blood to fill the three little tubes full of blood, with Sammy getting more and more frantic with each passing second. In the parking lot afterwards, it took literally close to an hour to calm Sammy down enough to get him into his car seat. And that was with nursing, his usual cure-all.

Now, Natalie is a bit more skittish about new situations than Sammy was. So I was expecting at least twice the commotion. She cried at her shots, but got over them pretty quickly. We dawdled in the examination room after dressing her, letting Sammy take as long as he wanted to pick out a sticker from the doctor's sticker drawer, delaying the inevitable. I walked slowly down the hall with Natalie in tow, feeling like I was leading her like a lamb to the slaughter.

I sat down in the lab chair with Natalie on my lap and tried to steel myself. I felt her flinch when the nurse stuck her finger, but...no tears. As the blood flowed into the tubes, Natalie watched with curiosity at that strange red stuff coming out of her finger. And when the nurse put a band-aid on her finger, Natalie scrutinized it and evidently found it pretty, since she proudly showed off her band-aid to everyone she came across on the way out of the doctor's office.

Well then. Ahem. To think of all the time I wasted worrying about that darn appointment, when I could have been spending all that mental energy trying to solve the current energy crisis.

Natalie's Birth Story

September 6, 2007: Natalie's due date. The day came and went without any fanfare. So much for the theory that second babies come sooner than first babies (Sammy was born on his due date). Apparently my uterus didn't get the memo.

September 7, 2007: Contractions start, getting closer together and stronger as the day goes on. I'm determined to stay home as long as possible, and decide not to leave for the hospital until the pain is nearly unbearable.

September 8, 2007: More contractions, more breathing exercises. Didn't sleep well the night before, so am extremely cranky.

September 9, 2007: Sunday night, finally go to the hospital to be checked. Since this is a VBAC attempt only 20 months after a C-section, decide it would be prudent to make sure scar is holding up. Pronounced "in early labor" with scar holding up well, and nurse says she expects to see me back later that evening but is sending me home to be more comfortable in the meantime. Gives me something to help me sleep (similar to Benadryl, if I remember correctly?) and about an hour after I get home, contractions stop abruptly.

September 10, 2007: No contractions all day long. Feeling disgusted, frustrated, and very cranky.

September 11, 2007: Contractions start up again. Actually relieved the day comes to an end with no baby, since I prefer baby have a birthday without so much negative association.

September 12, 2007: OK, now this is getting ridiculous. Contractions frequent, and bearable only with visualization and breathing exercises. This means no sleep for me. I spend the second night in a row in the bathtub, since it's the only way I am remotely comfortable.

September 13, 2007: I've had it. I tell Ron, "I am having a baby today and I don't care how it comes out. We are going to the hospital." We leave right at the start of rush-hour traffic and need to drive all the way across town. The hour-long car ride is the longest ride of my life.

Here's where my birth story really starts. We get to the hospital at about 9:00 a.m., and I am pronounced to be 4 cm. I have mixed thoughts about this. On the plus side, I am finally in active labor. On the minus side, 6 days of labor (5 if you count the one-day break I got on Monday), and I'm only at 4 cm? Kill me now.

I was checked in and sent to the labor and delivery room. I had been determined to have an unmedicated birth, but I was exhausted and had no more reserves left to deal with the pain, so when they asked about an epidural I said "yes, please". I still think that was the right decision for me, considering the marathon that was still ahead at that point.

Labor progressed slowly but steadily. At about 2:00 p.m., the nurse talked about adding some pitocin (NOT in my birth plan - it raises the risk of uterine rupture, although only slightly, but it wasn't a risk I wanted to take) but I didn't have to argue the point since they were too busy and never got around to trying it.

In my labor with Sammy, I stalled out at 6 cm, so when I finally got past that point, I really started getting excited that this was going to happen. At 6:00 p.m., I was pronounced complete. My epidural was wearing off and I could really feel the pain in my hips again (interestingly, throughout the whole labor, the worst of my pain was in my hips, which felt as though they were being spread with the jaws of life).

Right before my nurse went home at the end of her shift, she said, "You look familiar. Where are you from?" and that's when we figured out that we graduated from high school together (both of us had different last names then, which is why we didn't make the connection earlier). Since that high school is in a small town three hours north of here, that was an amazing coincidence.

At about 6:45, the doctor finally came in and had me start pushing. Two hours later, at 8:53 p.m., Natalie Rose finally made her appearance - but only after getting stuck on the way out. Thankfully the doctor was skilled enough to get her past the pubic bone without breaking her collarbone, although they watched her closely for the first few minutes to make sure she was moving both of her arms. She was, so all was well.

I think the doctor put her on my chest as soon as she came out, but honestly I don't have very many memories of those first few minutes after she was born. I was so exhausted, and tired from not sleeping formost of the past week, that I think my brain shut down for a little while. The first memory I really have is when she was over on the warming table, and the doctor said, "That's a big baby". I remember thinking, "What? She looks tiny," but the doctor turned out to be right. She weighed in at 9 lbs. 1 oz. and 20 1/2 inches long.

Another use for a toy dump truck

What do you get when you combine a slightly downward-sloping driveway with a Tonka dump truck just big enough to hold a small child? A fun ride and hours of fun. The only downside is that, much like sledding, you need to pull the child back up the hill. Over and over. And over.

Party Preparations

Natalie's birthday party is coming up in a couple of weeks, and I've been struggling to find time to make the decorations. Yesterday afternoon, I decided to take advantage of the nice weather and I moved our craft tub outside so Sammy could make messes to his heart's content, and clean-up would be as easy as spraying off the driveway with the garden hose. It occupied Sammy the whole time I was working. Score!

Note to self: Next time, find similar entertainment for Natalie. You know very well she'll make her own fun otherwise.

Hey, look at that! No, really, look!

That didn't work...uh..ok...then, it wasn't me! It was his fault!

Oh, who am I kidding. Yes, I dug up one of your plants and ate the dirt, but I swear, I had a good reason.

Favorites of the week

Favorite bumper sticker: I don't have ADHD, I have ADOS (Attention Deficit....Oooooh, shiny)



Favorite blonde joke: A blonde takes her car into the shop to have it fixed. The mechanic comes out, tells her it's ready to go, and she says, "So, what's the deal?" "Just crap in the carburator," the mechanic replies. "Oh," the blonde says. "How often do I need to do that?"



Favorite Sammy moment: Last night at the dinner table, when he held a mouthful of milk in his mouth without swallowing. That usually ends badly, so I nagged him to swallow it until he finally did. "Thank you," I said to him. "It's back again," he said as he pursed his lips and puffed out his cheeks.



Favorite Natalie moment: When she learned to point at things to get what she wants. All week long, it's been....point, point, "nnnn, nnnn"

Fever

Natalie's fever, which was more of an aside on yesterday's post, got worse as the day went on. By noon, I thought she may have actually become grafted to me, what with the resistance that I got when I tried to put her down.

Sammy was a sweetheart. When he came home from daycare, he was very concerned about her and wanted to do what he could to help. I gave him a cold, wet washcloth and he dabbed her head very gently. He brought her a binky, a blanket, and a bottle. He suggested I take her to the doctor. When I explained she'd already been to the doctor, he told me to bring her again.

I carried her around in a Moby wrap all day. When she fell asleep and I took off the wrap so I could lie down in the recliner with her, Sammy asked Ron to help him put the wrap on. Then he came over and wanted me to put Natalie in the wrap. He finally settled for a stuffed gorilla instead.

At 5:00, Natalie's fever was 103 and she was becoming inconsolable. I thought a lukewarm bath might help cool her down, and soothe her. I took off her clothes and, as I was running the water, she peed all over my leg. And the bathroom rug. And the towel. At least I had proof that she was getting enough fluids, and wasn't dehydrated. When I tried to put her in the bathtub, she clung to me like a baby monkey, and howled like one, too. So much for the bath.

She slept on my shoulder most of the evening, and at 10:00, when I was ready to go to bed, I brought her with me. The first hour passed peacefully. Shortly after 11:00, I woke up to blood-curdling screaming. I picked her up and she continued to scream bloody murder. She would calm down a little bit, then shudder and scream some more. Ron and I seriously considered calling an ambulance, or waking Sammy up so we could go to the ER, because I have never heard her cry like that before. It took about 15 minutes before she calmed down, and then the rest of the night passed without any more crises.

By this morning, her fever had broken but she was stuck to me like Velcro. It took an hour for me to leave the house, because she would get so upset every time I'd leave her sight. It was much worse than the separation anxiety-type-crying which is so typical these days. I did finally leave, and so I'm back at work today, while Natalie is home spending some quality time with Daddy.

I still don't know what the incident overnight was about. Fever-related seizure? Disorientation due to the fever? I learned something this morning from the nurses I work with. The way to tell if a baby is having a seizure is to hold one of their extremities. If the "convulsion" stops, it's not a seizure. I hope I never again have the opportunity to use that test.

On another note: Do you think Sammy might be getting a little big for his bed? Maybe it's time to upgrade.

Baby steps

Sorry the video is so dark. This digital camcorder works great in daylight, but I am still trying to figure out how to take decent indoor videos.