Curly Fries

Does this qualify as curly hair? I know it hardly qualifies as hair! But still...does this qualify as curly?

The Girlie has joined her Daddy in his mission in life of giving Jack as many monikers as possible. Last week's name-o'-the-day: Blubber Toothed Tiger. This week's? Curly Fries.

Rice Cereal, Take One

Today I finally got brave and mixed up some rice cereal for The Ducky.
I had to wedge a rigid piece of plastic in the back to support his big ol' noggin. He can lift his head quite well from a chin to chest position, and he can also lift it when it flops back to his shoulders, but this move tires him out much quicker than the chin to chest lifting maneuver.
He had no idea what was coming!
All in all he did pretty well. He swallowed most of it, quite to my surprise!
He even smiled several times, opened his mouth when he saw the spoon coming, and he was pretty happy with the whole experience!
Gotta love the ribbon of cereal drool!As well as failing to capture a single one of his smiles, I later realized I'd also failed to catch any pictures with his eyes open! Maybe he was just savoring this new experience.
He finished the entire serving and pitched himself forward to chew on his thumb!

Post script: Rice Cereal Take Two involved two or three bites, much pouty lip, followed by even more screaming. It was over fast as Jack just wasn't having it, despite his early obvious enjoyment of this new experience. Dang.

Grammy!

"Oh Grammy! I've waited so long to hug you!"

I found out Thursday morning that my 'Other' Mom would be visiting California from Idaho to take care of a cousin after surgery "...and to see my new GRANDSON!" I was so happy! I called right away to get all the dirt on when she would arrive, how long she could stay, etc, etc, and most importantly, when could we see her!!! (Mom and Dad adopted me when I was 34!)

Sunday evening from the Fly-Away shuttle she called to say she'd landed safely and was en route! We were talking about how soon we could get together and I asked, "Well, would you like to have Jack all to yourself for a little while? The Olders will be in school until noon." So a plan was hatched to meet at IHOP the next morning! I was so excited!

I got to the restaurant first and waited anxiously. Mom is never late, ever. But today she was. Figures! I watched and waited and when I saw her come in I sprang up to meet her at the door with Jack in my arms! Yippee-Skippie!
They started charming each other right away!
And Jack told her stories...
...and got plenty of smootchies...
...and took a nap!

Once the kids were home and I'd built up the drama and suspense of "The Special Mystery Visitor" as much as I could, Grammy arrived at home for a visit with everyone! The Girlie answered the door with "Grammy?" and then "GRAMMY!" and The Pod Pie was not far behind with hugs, kisses, happy faces and delighted chatter! I wasn't sure they were going to let Grammy get inside the house with all the hugging and kissing and throwing 'round of little arms going on in the front hallway!

Now it is a well known fact that it is a world wide and commonly accepted thing that Grandparents have the right, the duty, the privilege, of introducing babies to all things tart or sour. Lemons, pickles, etc. If you didn't know that fact, well, now you do! Here's Jack getting his first tiny little taste of a sweet lemon filling from from the lemon cream cheese pie that Grammy brought!"Hmmm...what's this?"
"Not bad. Not bad at all. I think I might like this!"
And finally, "Can I have more, please?"
Grammy is staying in California for at least two weeks! We can't wait to see more of her!

Another Woman's Heart

The other day I responded to a lady on the Ds board of BabyCenter.com and while I was writing, a lightning bolt of "What Will Some Day Become True" hit me. Some day Jack will light the heart of another woman. I firmly believe that he will some day fall in love and marry. I just wonder, has that little baby girl with Ds been born yet, or is she still in the planning, or even right now growing in her Mommy's heart and tummy? I vow to say a daily prayer for her...who ever, where ever she is right now. The idea that Jack and this mystery baby will know each other's love just makes me silly with happiness! I just know this will be.

Our Anniversary

I am a planner. I always have been. The Beloved is quite decidedly, not! I knew when I was 5 years old that I wanted my wedding gown to be of an antique champagne color, very Victorian and that the bouquet I would carry would have muted shades of roses and hydrangeas. The Beloved's style is more to pick up his tuxedo on the the day. Preferably via drive-thru, if at all possible!

While I admit that his impromptu style has led to many awesome and quite perfect trips up the coast with kids in tow and without any foreseeable room reservations, sometimes his easy approach to (dare I say it?) planning just doesn't work out.

And this is how we wound up at our 24th anniversary dinner with all three Littles in tow. Miss Suzie doesn't do drive-thru baby sitting. Yep. He waited too long to firm up a time for our special evening out and Miss Suzie high tailed it to the beach. We'd planned on taking our Littlest Squee with us anyway. Partly because I wanted to, but mostly since Jack's trip to the hopspittle, The Beloved wants him under the constant care of either one of us or The Other Mommy. (On Jack's first night home from the hopspittle, as I tucked him into his cradle, The Beloved kissed his head and said, "He's never moving out of our room, is he?" And it was not a question, but rather a statement of fact. It was The Beloved's affirmation to himself that Jack would be fine as long as he was sleeping beside us.)

So. Thanks to Kitchen Nightmares, we checked out a tiny little dump on the bad side of town that had been transformed into a great place to eat a delicious meal. On the 1 year recheck by Chef Ramsey, the place was still thriving. And it was right here in our little town! Right between an abandoned building and a late night hair salon.

But it was really, really, really good!

The kids behaved, the live band was good, and the food was really, really good! The Beloved wanted to know if the music might be too loud for The Duckling. The Girlie, or as I like to refer to her, My Sarcastic Twin, rolled her eyes at The Dear Daddy and said, "Dad. Do you really think this is the first time he's heard music this loud?" She was incredulous at the suggestion. I just read my menu as all eyes turned to me. What? Baby Head was fine. And he has heard much louder on any given trip to Wal-mart. Or say, all those months in utero. He was happily slamming his Mr. Moose against his car seat, and at one point he was pounding on his butterfly to the beat of the band. Really. He was. The boy has rhythm! When the band took a break, he took a nap, and he didn't even wake up when the band started up again. I'm pretty sure his first words will be song lyrics. Probably something from Nickelback, Aerosmith, Puddle of Mudd, Zeppelin...

So Happy Anniversary to us! With kids in tow!

Sittin' Pretty

Jack's a happy boy sitting up and seeing the world from this view!
"Yeah, Mom! I like this view! It's fun to sit up!"
...still upright...
...sittin' pretty!
Here's Jack's pose of "The Thinker"
"Hey Mom! Is that the ice cream truck I hear?"
"It is! Hey Daddy, Got any change? We can get ice cream!"
Jack spontaneously cracks himself up!
"Watch me rock on my air guitar!"
This is Jack flashing his gang sign. "That's right! I'm the President of the Down and Dirty Ds Diaper Street Motor Cycle Club. Cuz that's how I roll!"
Singing to himself about how happy he is to be sitting up!
"Whoooaa! Hey! My butt's round! Did you see that? I almost fell over!"
"Okay, I'm good. Nice and steady now. So, can I have the remote?"

Jack's Visit to the Doctor with Pictures!

Jack Snack had his post hospital visit with the neonatologist today. He's the doctor I'd gone rounds with before, but the hospital pediatrician insisted he would be a great advocate for Jack, and I respected her, so we're back to him. He initially said, "So he had pneumonia. You know this was probably pneumococcal pneumonia and it could have been avoided if you'd consent to vaccinate him. Most pneumonias and ear infections are pneumococcal and there's a great decrease in both of these illnesses when parents vaccinate their babies in a timely manner."

So I calmly said, "It also could have been aspiration pneumonia. The radiographs had a pattern consistent with inflammation and infiltration in the right upper lobe." Any seasoned nurse or doctor will look for aspiration with the key words of inflammation, infiltration and right upper lobe. It's a no-brainer. And I had his attention. (Dang I love knowing the jargon!) He examined Jack while I explained about having switched to the other doctor because we'd gotten a notice to choose a group. The doctor we chose was not the one assigned, but we decided to try him out. I explained what I'd told the other doctor about Jack having developed a wet congested cough mid-way through each bottle that persisted for 30 minutes afterward and that I'd asked for a swallow study. By now the doctor has sat down and is actually listening to me instead of reaching for the door. While I dress Jack I explained that the swallow study was denied and the doc had said instead of feeding him 6 ounces every three to four hours, feed him 3 ounces every two hours. Now the doc is shaking his head, and said, "That's bad advice." I explained that the nasty cough was progressively getting earlier into each meal and lasting longer after ward. I nearly toppled over when he said, "You might be right about the aspiration. He probably is aspirating or has some GERD and he's aspirating that. But it sounds like aspiration." Yeah. I knew that. Pneumococcal infection would not have been isolated to the right upper lobe.

"So what are you doing now? He looks pretty good and his lungs are clear." So, I explained the slow flow nipple to reduce pooling and keeping him upright for feedings and for 30 minutes afterward with thorough burping. "Keep doing that." I was hoping that he'd write a script for Simply Thick so our plan would cover it, but he said to add cereal to the formula. That wasn't the answer I wanted but I did expect it. He asked if I'd started feeding him solids like he'd recommended at the last visit. I said no, the aspiration issue started shortly after that, then the pneumonia and that "I didn't want to start solids until after I'd spoken to you." Sometimes it doesn't hurt to dirty your nose just a little. So he said to try the cereal in the bottle to thicken it, and start him on solids. "If he still has problems we'll investigate further. Almost all these kids have GERD. Many outgrow it by six months. Let's see how he does." Now I hate that he generalizes Willie as one of "these kids," but I find I am disliking him a little less than I did before. And I have to admit, he didn't say "these kids" with malice. Or even unkindly. And he looked at Willie when he said it. That helps.

Having switched groups I had to make sure Willie could still see the cardiologist for a 6 week follow up, and the neurologic opthamologist on June 15th. He said yes. I completely forgot to ask for the nebulizer orders and I had to call his nurse back the next day. The doc got on the phone himself. Yep, disliking him a little less. He said to keep using the MDI and to come by tomorrow and see him and he'd give me an aerochamber with a mask. If that didn't work, he'd investigate a nebulizer.

So then...feast your eyes on the cute pics I got of Billy-Joe-Jim-Bob while we waited for the doctor!




After the doctor's visit and a bottle and didee change, Will was up for some vigorous play!"Moose! I love Mr. Moose!"
"Yummmmy! Moose Rump Roast!"
"Mmmmmm...Moose rib meat!"
Will also likes to pound his Moose on the toy tray!
"Ohhh, I love my Moose!"

And I guess I'll try feeding him solids. A gal from the Ds board on BabyCenter.com mailed out 80 packets of Simply Thick to me today and I should have it within a few days. I won't do the cereal in his bottle. If we have to, we'll pay for the Simply Thick out of pocket.

Like I Need Another Hole in the Head!

So...early this evening my neighbor Lynn dropped by. "Is your husband home? Someone left that mangy dog that's been running wild tethered on my porch and I want to know if he can get the dog. I went over to B's house but her husband isn't home yet. I'm afraid the dog will bite me." So, enter The Beloved to the rescue. And what we see at Lynn's house is indeed the mangy little black beaten with the ugly stick dog that has been harassing dog walkers all around the neighborhood for the last two weeks. And someone has indeed attached a leash and collar to him and weighed down the other end of the leash with one of the 40lb bags of dog food that Lynn always has on her front porch. So, The Beloved approaches and the poor little doggy shrank away, trembling hard enough that he could have fallen apart.

Now, one of the many talents The Beloved has is that of dog whisperer. Within seconds, the mangy little mutt was curled up into The Beloveds squatted down hulking form, which I gotta say, bare chested and muscled, is still a sight to see. And then The Beloveds gentle and comforting voice turned icy. "Oh my God. Feel his hips. He's skin and bones." He started touching the dog all over and then turned back on the velvet voice when the poor little mutt sensed his tension. "He's just a puppy. Who would do this to a puppy? Damn, this makes me sick." I've known The Beloved for more than half my life. (We met in high school, but that's another story.) He's rescued more mangy mutts that I can count. He tries to find them homes, but truth be told, once The Beloved takes charge, the mutt in question has a home one way or another. Usually another. One such down trodden dog was spied walking in the gutter in the middle of the night in a down pour. The Beloved had worked really late that night and had initially driven past her because he was exhausted and wanted to get home. But he went back for her, spent 20 minutes trying to find her, took her home, dried her off, fed her and gave her a warm bed. Then he went upstairs to drop his tired self into bed. In the middle of the night, his other dogs were barking and whining and raising the roof. So, down the stairs The Beloved goes to find the rescue dog whelping. Seven puppies. She'd found her new home just in time. She eventually was given the name of Dusty and she lived to a ripe old age under the same roof that she bore her puppies. That was long before 'us' but the story still makes my teary.

Miss B and I are speculating that the dog was dumped on Lynn's porch because it's a well known fact that she carries around dog food and bottled water in her car, along with paper bowls, for found strays. And, right on cue, Lynn produced the zip lock bag of dog food from her car and poured some in a china bowl for the dog. (I gotta say, Lynn has had a beautiful set of china sitting on her porch for at least three years. I eye it every time I go to her house. But again, that's another story.) The pup approached the bowl but then hunkered down like it was going to be beaten. With encouragement from The Beloved, he finally started eating and then woofed it down. And then he got interested in the water she'd put in another china bowl.

So, here we are. We already have three big dogs. Three big kennels doubling as end tables in the living room. At least this one is little and won't eat much. "Should we take him home?" I whisper to The Beloved. Where would we put him? I say we could put him in the garage until we figure out what to do with him. He'll need to see a vet. I say I'm going back to work soon. I know from experience the he would have objected immediately if he hadn't been thinking the same thing. Well, I'll leave it up to you. We can always try to find a home for him later. (Yeah...that will happen!) I'm taking Baby Head home before he gets cold. And he retrieved the happy Little Squee from the arms of our neighbor B, whom he'd been charming while we all talked about the dog, and he went home, taking said Squee. And I followed a few minutes later with the mangy little black beaten with the ugly stick mutt. Poor puppy. But at least I now have two of the china bowls! "Take these so he'll know these are his bowls," Lynn said. I'll have to borrow someones dog and tie it to Lynn's porch...I want that gravy boat!

Needless to say, the dog never saw the garage. We kept him leashed to a chair in the dining room until we knew he could whine to go out. The Middle Little immediately dubbed him Charlie and The Girlie wants to call him Puppy Paws. We fed him small amounts of food and water throughout the evening. The kids took him out frequently to play in the back yard with him. Together with the back door rug, he was a happy camper. Then came another ring of the doorbell. Lynn was standing there with a little boy. She'd thought the people behind her house belonged to the dog. Nope. But they did direct her the people in the house on the other corner who did belong to the dog. And Lynn being Lynn, she marched over there to confront them on the near dead condition of their dog. The little boy with her said he wanted his dog back. Lynn said, "I'll take you to the family that has him. It's up to them if they give your dog back or not." And I heard the little boy out. He was tearful when I said I wouldn't give the dog back because he was clearly starved. The little boy said, "But he won't eat what we give him." Really? Lynn had given him Pedigree and he gobbled it up. We're buying Wal-mart dog food until I get back to work, and you can't get any cheaper than Wal-mart dog food. He'd gobbled up the Wally world food just as happily as the Pedigree. I tell the little boy to wait and I go tell The Beloved what the kid has to say. He has one word. "No!" Okay then.

A few minutes later, again with the doorbell. The little boy brought his mother. She was wearing boy-shorts panties out in public and the "teeny-weeny-little-tee"* with an ample muffin top jiggling to the beat between the two swatches of str-e-t-ched fabric. Hot pink. I tell her what I told the little boy. The dog has clearly been starved and his hip bones are sticking out and I will not give the dog back to them. She says she'll call the po-lice. I tell her that I'll be waiting. I flip on the porch light and suggest she note our address. "Oh I done memorized the address. I'm going to call the po-lice." And she called me a bitch. "Well, bitch or not, I'll be more than happy to let the Sheriffs see the condition of that dog and let them decide if I should give him back to you or not." She called me a few more choice names and left, the junk in the trunk keeping tempo with the muffin top.

The Sheriffs never came. In the morning I called animal control, explained the situation and asked their advice. They said I could keep the dog or surrender him to them. Next I called the Sheriffs and explained it all again. They'd gotten zero calls about this issue last night. None. I think the mom took to heart what I said about letting the Sheriffs see the condition of the dog and thought better of it. The next call was to our vet. He said since the dog hadn't thrown up what he'd eaten, he'd probably be fine. Just keep feeding frequent small amounts of food and water. If he doesn't have a poop within two days, bring him in, otherwise just bring him in when you decide if you're keeping him. I said to the dog, "This is your lucky day, Puppy Head." And he responded by getting playful. So I had to go shopping.

Kennel........$35.00
Pillow........$ 2.50
Doggy Toys....$ 3.00
Puppy Treats..$ 1.50
Tax...........$ 3.89
Happy Pup.....Priceless.
You can see one of his shiny little eyes in this pic.
And he likes his kennel! By evening he was retreating to his kennel when he got tired of playing. I felt really bad telling the little boy that he wasn't getting his dog back, but the poor pup is ridiculously thin and his spine, ribs and hip bones STICK OUT! We were afraid we'd made him sick or kill him by letting him have food. He's that thin. But he pooped this morning, so no trip to the vet just yet. Soon, though. I just hope they don't get another dog to do this to. I plan to start walking The Girls past their house at least once every week to see if I hear barking from their yard. And tomorrow, Puppy Head is getting a much needed bath!

*P!NK Stupid Girls

"Where's The Baby?"

I would have played this game with Diego's voice from the Ice Age movies.

The Beloved is always the first the roll his eyes and get the skeptical look when ever I have proudly exclaimed any of the new skills our Littles have demonstrated as babies. Once they've hit the toddler stage, the doubting and the skepticism turns to enthusiastic interest. Well...the rules have certainly changed with Our Newest Little Squee. The Beloved insists that not only is Our Li'l Pup playing this game on purpose, but that he kept it up for about 20 minutes. Only instead of "Where's the baby?" his version goes a little more like this...

"Baby all gone!""BABY!"
"Baby all gone!"
"BABY!"
"Baby all gone!"
"BABY!"
And now for the thumb!
The Beloved also insists that Jackie-Boy raised his arms to him last Saturday morning to be picked up. I'm not saying that he didn't, but he hasn't done it for me. You've come a long way, baby. And I'm not talking about Jack.