Trick or Treat

Happy Halloween!

Cardinals win!

Have your heard? The Cardinals? OUR TEAM? Are the World Champs?

That's right.

And perhaps you also might not have heard that Josh and I attended Game 5. We were there. That's right. Jack stayed home with Grandma. We headed to St. Louis and watched the Cardinals pick up a World Series title.



Wondering what it was like to be there when it happened? Lucky for you, we have video!

Lost?

If you are a member of my February Moms Group and you are looking for everyone, please drop me an email (sprengblingbling at gmail dot com) and I can send you the new information.

Tastes like chicken

Do you think styrofoam is organic?

Because Jack ate a piece today and he's only allowed to eat organic food.

I swear to God, this kid finds everything on the floor. We don't even have anything with styrofoam in this house. I have no idea where it came from. But there was a little piece the size of a penny in his mouth when I looked down this afternoon.

I was chatting with Josh on the phone about vacation plans (hello, Puerto Rico!) and I happened to look down and see something white in Jack's mouth. I say, "What the hell is that? There's something in Jack's mouth."

Of course, he clamps his mouth closed as I try to fish it out.

And there it is. I ask Josh "Where the hell did THIS come from?" He said he didn't know, but said a few days ago, he found a little wooden dowel peg in Jack's mouth.

SERIOUSLY.

I can't get this kid to put a piece of chicken in his mouth to save my life, but little pieces of wood and styrofoam? Well giddyup.

A successful trip

Too busy for transitions, today you get bullets!

* The trip was great. Awesome weather (high 70s and sunny), great wedding, fun wine tour, well-behaved child. No crying on the plane, a congenial attitude 99% of the time we were there. They love love loved him on the plane and even gave him a little certificate in honor of his first flight and a little pair of pilot wings. I heart Southwest.

* Jack is now crawling on all fours for a few feet at a time. Then he gives up and resorts to his preferred method of travel -- army-crawl -- because it's faster.

* Jack is also pulling up on things. Tonight, he pulled himself up on the couch for the first time. He looked so proud of himself -- it was adorable.

* The Cardinals are up 2-1 in the World Series. We have tickets for tomorrow. It is supposed to be a cold rain. The term "massive storm" was bandied about by the weatherman. Cold rainy baseball -- I live for this!

* Jack's eczema is receding nicely. The patches are lightening up nicely. Milk, it doesn't do a body good.

Go west, young man

We're heading to San Francisco today for our friends' (Gina and Jeff) wedding. Jack's first plane ride! Mommy and daddy will likely find out they really have little bottles of alcohol on board to ease the panic when your child is screaming his head off at 42,000 feet.

You are now free to move about the cabin ... to get away from the crying baby!

Non-dairy creamer anyone?

What started as a little patch of dry skin on Jack's arm a few months ago has blossomed into full-blown eczema. It's on his arms, legs, chest, tummy and back. It doesn't look red or raw, but it's definitely pink and looks horrid and dry and scaly in all these little spots all over him.

His pediatrician saw the rash last week and said it's probably from something he is eating. Josh and I have scoured the internet and my degree from Dr. Google says it's probably caused by dairy.

I was trying to pretend it could not possibly be a food allergy. Neither Josh nor I have any allergies -- so how could Jack? Oh how foolish I have been.

I looked at his food chart and he started eating yogurt a week before the rash started to get bad. I should have known, considering I could not drink milk or eat ice cream for a few months because it would cause terrible gas in him and he would howl in pain when I ate those things.

Of course, the last two months I have gotten very cocky and went back to nightly ice cream runs to Dairy Queen or Baskin Robbins, as well as eating an absurd amount of chocolate chip cookies last week (Jack was also bothered by chocolate for a while).

So Saturday we eliminated dairy from my diet again and took Jack's beloved yogurt away from him. I feel terrible. This kid lives for yogurt. I am so sad I have to withhold it.

I am going to give it two weeks, which is what they say it can take dairy to clear from your system. If it doesn't get better, then we know it's not dairy and we can start trying to find the cause.

Already though, I think his skin looks better. We've been oiling him up with Aquafor after his baths and my, don't my hands feel supple as well. Bonus!

So wish us luck. I had some dairy-free sorbet last night. And a piece of apple pie tonight. I cried a little when I realized I couldn't put ice cream on it.

Diaper duty

It's a wonder anyone reads this blog, considering I just foresake you all for days on end.

This week's excuse is work. It's a busy time of the year. I am going nuts.

It's also damn near impossible to get anything done when all your kid does all day is poop.

Comments overheard recently at our house, the span of three hours:
"You can't be poopy again!"
"Seriously, how can one kid be THIS poopy?"
"Jack! You pooped again?"
"Ohmygodyouarepoopyagainandthistimeyoupoopedoutyourpants."

Since Jack has been taking the Amoxicillan for his various infections, he has been pooping. A LOT. We're talking six poopy diapers a day for the last week. This was not listed as a side effect on the little bottle of pink medicine. Nowhere did it say "Medicine could cause assplosions."

So I trudge up and down the stairs many, many times a day.

Today I declared he does it for attention. Pooping on command, I theorize. Because every time he has a dirty diaper, and I exclaim that I can't beeeelieeeeveeeeeee it, he laughs hysterically.

Eight months

Dear Jack,

Eight months old today buddy! Where has my little baby gone? I think someone stole him and replaced that baby with a creature who grows more into a little boy each day.



In the last month, you have done so many "big boy" things. Just this weekend we put you in the child seat of a shopping cart for the first time and you loved it. I died a little inside looking at you sitting up tall, hanging on to the cart handle like you've been doing it for years. You reached out to grab my hands and my face periodically while we were walking through the aisles as if to say "Hi Mom! This is so fun isn't it?"

This last month has been a whirlwind of playdates, weekends with family and new classes with Mommy and Daddy. You started Kindermusik and absolutely adored it. Your class is a mix of kids ranging from 3-16 months and you love singing the songs and dancing and watching the big kids run around. You even "sing" along with the music and are definitely the most vocal member of the class. I think you have developed your first teacher crush too, because you smile and giggle at and generally groove on your instructor.



You also started swim lessons with Daddy. You boys head over to the gym pool for a class once a week just the two of you and you have a great time, from what I hear. You again love to watch the other babies and have a great time singing songs and splashing.

I think you love these two classes so much because they involve so much movement. And seriously, if you're not moving, you are simply pissed off at the world. You can crawl now, so you rarely sit in one place for more than a minute. It's like a whole new world opened up for you when you managed to drag your body along behind your little arms. You don't even have the patience to learn to properly crawl on all fours. Nope, too many toys to play with and cords to inspect and cats to chase.

Oh how you love chasing the cats now. Poor Max and Lucy are weary of your antics, but you don't notice because you give them huge, gummy smiles every time you see them and squeal with delight when they walk by you. Recently, Mommy and Daddy and you were hanging out on the couch with Max when you decided to see what this long appendage hanging off Max was. You grabbed on for dear life and squeezed. Max looked at Daddy like "Ummm, DUDE, that hurts. Help me!" And you started to pull. Max yelped and got right in your face, but Daddy managed to extract the tail from your hand and prevent any nasty biting incidents. We're still working on the concept of "gentle" with you.



We need to work on that so you know how to treat other babies as well. For a few months, you were the laid-back baby who didn't know how to fight back when another baby poked you or took a toy. But now, it's every man for himself. You have done your share of poking and toy-stealing and grabbing. You don't do it with a malicious look on your face, more of a curiosity thing or trying to bring them down to your level.

While you enjoy the crawling for now, there are many times (scratch that, 90 percent of the time) that you want to walk laps around the house holding onto our hands. You can take a lap of the entire floorplan and when we try to sit you down, you howl and hold your arms up and practically force us at gunpoint to take another one.



You would think all this movement would make you tired enough to take long naps. HA! Good one. That's hilarious. The King of the 30-Minute Naps' reign of terror continues throughout the land. You rule with an iron fist, let me tell you, because there is no playing or lying quietly when you wake up. One minute you're asleep, the next you are crying -- with real tears, just to show us you mean business. You can sometimes be cajoled back to sleep with a boob or some rocking, so maybe you're starting to get the idea that naps should be a restorative period of no less than two hours.

We had just gotten you sleeping through the night this month, and then Mommy and Daddy went away for the night and you got all out of sorts again. After a week of five or six wakings a night, your parents were desperate for some sleep. There was talk of "crying it out" but the female parent in this house just couldn't do it. Instead, the decision to rock you with your pacifier when you woke up was put into effect.

Imagine our surprise when after a night of numerous and prolonged wakings, we discovered you were sick. The wakeups were your way of telling us "Hey -- I feel like crap over here. Help a baby out won't ya?" There was fever, eye infection, congestion and an ear infection. Your first baby illness! Let's mark that in the baby book, shall we? We got you some medicine and you were back to your old self within 24 hours. Here's to hoping this is the last of the sickies for this fall and winter.

This was also the month of babbling. If you're awake, you're making noise. When you eat, you make "mmmmm" sounds whether you're nursing or eating your solids. If you're not pleased about something, we get a "mmmmmmmmmmmm mmmmmmmmm" kind of moan from you, accompanied by the slamming of your heels on the floor. If you want something RIGHT NOW, it's usually "MAAA-MUH!" If you want to converse with us, normally there's a bunch of "mamama bababa" and recently, you started throwing in a few "la" and "wa" sounds. The "da" sound is apparently still reserved for the first Tuesday of months beginning with S when there is a full moon and the temperature is above 60 degrees.

You're still pretty skinny, but now you have developed a little buddha belly. Well, it's not exactly little. You look like you have a serious beer gut. It hangs over the waistband of your pants and looks so cute from the side. It's even funnier when we get you out of the tub because there's this gigantic belly that disappears completely at your scrawny hips and rock-star skinny thighs.



Clearly, the three meals a day you are now eating are going straight to your tummy. We're got you eating what seems like a lot, but you're not turning away, so we figure you must be hungry. You get oatmeal and fruit at breakfast with a few little pieces of banana for finger food. At lunch, you get two jars of veggie and a half-jar of fruit. Dinner is two jars of veggies, some yogurt and a half-jar of fruit. This week you started trying to feed yourself organic cheerios and you are so determined. You get about one of every five in your mouth, but you look so satisfied when you finally do.

This month has been so much fun. You are learning so much every day and have the ability to interact with Mommy and Daddy so much more. We can show you how something works, and you can sometimes replicate the action. You can mimic some sounds back to us. You know when the door to the garage opens, to look and see Daddy when he comes home from work. You also are able to sit and play by yourself, which makes it so much fun to watch you as you figure things out. It's like we have this little friend to hang out with now, instead of just a baby who needs us to entertain him 24-7.



As I write this, you are across the room spinning yourself in circles on your stomach, trying to decide which toy to play with next. You'll pick up a toy, inspect it and then look back over your shoulder at me and smile. Then you'll crawl a little, stop and look back and smile. I know this is what babies your age do now. You explore, but still look for reassurance from Mommy to make sure it's OK. And right now, I am realizing this is only the beginning.

Next you'll be walking away and looking to me and my oustretched arms for balance. Then you'll be walking though the door to school, looking back at me waving and telling you how fun it's going to be. Sooner than we realize, you'll be walking away from the car as we drop you off at the mall, and you won't look back at all because you'll be embarrassed your PARENTS drove you to the MALL and my god, like, everyone saw! But a few years after that, you'll walk into a dorm room and look back at me for some money. And eventually, you will walk down the aisle toward a life with your new bride. And I hope at that moment, you'll look back at me and remember all the times I told you I loved you and cheered you on. There will never be a day I won't be behind you, encouraging you and loving you.

Love,
Mommy

Infectious

If you were in Vegas this week, betting on Jack's illness, and you put your money on the three-team parlay of fever, conjunctivitis and an ear infection, you are now a gazillionaire.

Please cash in your chips and leave while you are ahead.

The pediatrician took one look at Jack's yellow-oozing, crusty eyes and made the call of conjunctivitis. He then said the with a cold and fever, conjunctivitis is usually teamed with an ear infection.

After removing a small mound of ear wax from his ear so he could just look in it, he exclaimed, "And there's the infection."

At least I think that's what he said because all I could clearly hear was my baby screaming bloody murder in my ear while I held his hands down so his ears could be inspected.

We walked out of the office with two prescriptions for antibiotics and eye drops 10 minutes after we breezed in to start the visit. That's what I call service!

So we spent the afternoon indulging Jack in whatever he wanted. Looking at his disgusting gunky eyes, with the little dark circles under them, and his red, stuffy nose made me want to hug him.

He played and smiled like always, but he also wanted a lot of cuddling. Which was the tipoff he was really sick. Normally, this kid wants nothing to do with cuddling. Even when he wants to nurse, he's more apt to peck me or headbutt me and try to suck my chin, than to bury his face in my shoulder.

So we took lots of walking laps around the house and I let him nurse as much as he wanted and he took a nap on my lap in the afternoon. Wait -- that's not different from any other day, even when he's in perfect health.

But I am telling you, I feel so letdown. My breastfed, non-daycared baby is sick. This isn't supposed to happen. He's supposed to live in some breastmilk bubble where all the children are sniffle-free for the rest of their lives. Shouldn't I get a refund or something?

Wednesday Night Fever

Fever v2.0, now with eye crud!

Twice today, Jack's temperature has been over 100. And about mid-morning he started with the yellow disgusting crud oozing from his right eye.

After consulting Dr. Google, I determined I should probably, ya know, call his pediatrician for an actual diagnosis or something. The nurse returned my call and after a short discussion where I tried to make him sound as unsick as possible -- "No, he's eating great and playing like normal. Well, yes, he has had a fever for over 72 hours. The eye gunk? Well, um, yeah, that's been all day, not only when he's sleeping." -- she decided we should come in.

It was 6:45 p.m. by this time and I assumed she meant tomorrow. Imagine my surprise when she said we could come in tonight. Too bad we were 120 miles away from the office.

I mean how often does your pediatrician actually have an opening, much less after regular business hours? I had to decline her spectacular offer and instead will call in the morning for a walk-in appointment.

Let's hope tonight is better than last night, which featured an hour-long wakeful period at 3 a.m. I mean, sure, practicing your consonant sounds at 3 a.m. sounds like a grand idea. But in reality, even "Baba Mama" loses its appeal in the middle of the night.

I'm sure it was payback, however, for the use of the nasal aspirator immediately preceding the wakeful period. But kiddo -- you can't breathe with your nose all full of snot. I have to get it out. Sorry you feel this violates your civil rights, but it's got to be done.

Here's to hoping the doctor tells us it's pink eye. Because that would be oh so much fun.

Cold day in hell

I think I might be dying.

If it is possible to die from a cold, I should order the casket now.

My lung may or may not be in the bottom of the sink. I think I hacked it up last night during one of my 1,379 coughing fits. Of those, 1,378 occurred between the hours of 3-5 a.m. after we had finally gotten Jack to sleep for more than an hour.

I would rock him, cough, wake him up, rock him, get him asleep, cough, wake him up, wash, rinse, repeat.

Have you ever tried to stifle a cough? It becomes an all-consuming event. First, you try to ignore the tickle in your throat. Then, you start to panic because you feel it welling up in your chest. After gagging to try to keep it in, you can't take it anymore and you explode with a hacking cough that not only wakes the baby, but probably the neighbors three houses over.

Bonus points for doing all of this without the aid of cold medicine.

You see, they won't declare any drugs safe for breastfeeding mothers. When I asked my local pharmacist what I could take, "And oh yeah, by the way, I'm breastfeeding," she looked horrified and cast her eyes downward, "Nothing. I'm sorry. You could try some cough drops."

Well thanks much. I'm sure the Halls will help me sleep peacefully and deeply. Oh but no. I have to tough this one out without drugs. Just call me James Frey.

Jack is so used to my new coughing state that he now imitates me with a fake cough of his own. Not to be confused with a fake fever -- no, he was running a real fever of his very own this afternoon.

He felt a little warm, so I got out the old thermometer and wouldn't ya know, it registered a toasty 101.2 around 3 p.m. So I gave him some Tylenol and it dissipated nicely.

I don't know if he's teething, sick or just a general hothead, but it was his first baby sickness. And I felt terrible because we had chosen last night for the start of "Operation Get Jack Out Of Our Bed."

There was crying and pacifying and rocking and wailing and gnashing of teeth and four different wakeups. And the whole time the poor thing was probably sick and just wanted a little boob. Which he got at 3:15 when I stomped into his room where Josh was rocking him and announced I couldn't take it anymore and gave in to the boob and the bed.

We've suspended the siege until we know he is feeling better. So tonight we'll be back to him hogging the bed and me trying to cough into my pillow so as not to disturb him.