Worrisome moment #1: I am sitting on the living room floor, changing Maggie's diaper, and I look up to check on Seamus, who is eating a lunch of noodles with peas, corn, and tofu in his highchair. He says, "Mommy! Pea!" and points to his nose.
Worrisome moment #2: I ask, "Seamus, did you put a pea in your nose?" and he looks at me with a smile in his eye, looks down at his plate of food, and then points to his nose again. "Pea." Though I'm not quite sure if he actually shoved a pea up there or if he just came up with the idea that it could be done, I start to wonder how I am supposed to go about getting a pea out of a small nose. I don't think I'd be able to reach it with my hands. Will it work to ask him to blow his nose into a kleenex?
Moment of relief #1, also known as gross moment #1: Before I have time to try to do anything about the situation, Seamus tells me a joke, cracks himself up, and as he laughs, a glop of snot comes out of his nose, and then a pea.
Gross moment #2: He picks up the pea, and puts it in his mouth.
Moment of realization that I'm just going to have to get used to this kind of stuff, now that I have two kids #1: I briefly consider trying to snatch the snotty pea out of his mouth, but realize that I'm still holding a dirty diaper in my slightly poop-smeared hand, and reconsider going near anyone's mouth. I go with a half-hearted request: "Please don't put anything in your mouth after it has been in your nose. And don't put peas in your nose."
And, end scene.
Saturday, February 25, 2012
Sunday, February 5, 2012
Big Changes
The other morning, I came out of the bedroom and left baby Maggie in her co-sleeper, wanting to greet Shay and give him a little "Mommy time" without holding the baby. He looked at me quizzically, and said "Hi, Mommy. Baby?" I told him that the baby was in Mommy and Daddy's room, and he ran into the room, stood on his tippy-toes to peer over the edge of the co-sleeper, and said, "Hi, baby." He then ran back out into the living room to play trucks.
Little buddy is doing such a good job adjusting to being a big brother that it makes my heart feel like it's going to explode.
In truth, many things make my heart feel like it's going to explode lately.
Baby Maggie was born about 10 days ago. She is a superstar. She was 1 week late, and since I didn't want to be induced, my doctor sent me in to the hospital for a non-stress test and fluid check, to make sure she was still doing okay -- and to my surprise, the doctors weren't pleased with what they saw on the tests and wanted me to be induced. I was shocked and disappointed and worried about the induction, but it turned out much better than I had feared. They put something on my cervix to help it start to soften, and were planning on starting pitocin when the cervix was ready, but just that one little jump-start was enough to make contractions come on their own. I labored for about three hours and the contractions started to get pretty intense, but no one -- including me -- guessed that things were progressing as fast as they were. Being in labor for the second time felt much less unknown and less scary for me, and I went into a place somewhere deep inside myself to deal with the contractions. Maybe this sounds hippie-ish and weird, but I was picturing the contractions as ocean waves as the tide is going out -- washing up over wet sand as they came on and washing back down and away as they faded. I suddenly felt the urge to push, and hit the call button as no one but Patrick and my mom were in the room. The nurse came in, and felt that the baby's head was right there in the birth canal (I hadn't been measured since three hours before, when I was dilated to a big fat zero still), and called other nurses in and they all started bustling around, getting the room ready for the doctor. Meanwhile, I was on my hands and knees on the bed, facing the wall, still in my own zone and sort of unaware that no one else knew I was really close to pushing the baby out. I had two massive contractions, one right on top of the other, and on the second one, Maggie's head and shoulders came out, and I heard my mom yell out, "It's the head!" and she reached out and caught the baby. So that's how Maggie's grandma delivered the baby, even though we were at the hospital, a story that strikes me at times as funny and at other times as so touching and wonderful that again, I think my heart will explode.
She is a good baby, nursing like a champ and sleeping pretty well. Shay has moments of jealousy, but all in all, he is doing really well. He reads books to his sister, pointing out the cars and trucks and hammers and ladders, and he gives her fist bumps, and he greets her in the morning and says nighty-night to her at night. When she cries, he brings her a receiving blanket, and sometimes even lets her snuggle with his security blanket. In many ways, he seems to be taking this all in stride even better than his parents are, what with his mom getting weepy every time he gives the baby a sweet little fist bump.
Little buddy is doing such a good job adjusting to being a big brother that it makes my heart feel like it's going to explode.
In truth, many things make my heart feel like it's going to explode lately.
Baby Maggie was born about 10 days ago. She is a superstar. She was 1 week late, and since I didn't want to be induced, my doctor sent me in to the hospital for a non-stress test and fluid check, to make sure she was still doing okay -- and to my surprise, the doctors weren't pleased with what they saw on the tests and wanted me to be induced. I was shocked and disappointed and worried about the induction, but it turned out much better than I had feared. They put something on my cervix to help it start to soften, and were planning on starting pitocin when the cervix was ready, but just that one little jump-start was enough to make contractions come on their own. I labored for about three hours and the contractions started to get pretty intense, but no one -- including me -- guessed that things were progressing as fast as they were. Being in labor for the second time felt much less unknown and less scary for me, and I went into a place somewhere deep inside myself to deal with the contractions. Maybe this sounds hippie-ish and weird, but I was picturing the contractions as ocean waves as the tide is going out -- washing up over wet sand as they came on and washing back down and away as they faded. I suddenly felt the urge to push, and hit the call button as no one but Patrick and my mom were in the room. The nurse came in, and felt that the baby's head was right there in the birth canal (I hadn't been measured since three hours before, when I was dilated to a big fat zero still), and called other nurses in and they all started bustling around, getting the room ready for the doctor. Meanwhile, I was on my hands and knees on the bed, facing the wall, still in my own zone and sort of unaware that no one else knew I was really close to pushing the baby out. I had two massive contractions, one right on top of the other, and on the second one, Maggie's head and shoulders came out, and I heard my mom yell out, "It's the head!" and she reached out and caught the baby. So that's how Maggie's grandma delivered the baby, even though we were at the hospital, a story that strikes me at times as funny and at other times as so touching and wonderful that again, I think my heart will explode.
She is a good baby, nursing like a champ and sleeping pretty well. Shay has moments of jealousy, but all in all, he is doing really well. He reads books to his sister, pointing out the cars and trucks and hammers and ladders, and he gives her fist bumps, and he greets her in the morning and says nighty-night to her at night. When she cries, he brings her a receiving blanket, and sometimes even lets her snuggle with his security blanket. In many ways, he seems to be taking this all in stride even better than his parents are, what with his mom getting weepy every time he gives the baby a sweet little fist bump.
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