Better living through chemistry

Monkey is on the mend. After a really nasty weekend, she stayed home on Monday and part of Tuesday. Monday, ok, I get that. It was too early to send her back to school, what with the fever and the double earaches and needing to heal. But Tuesday?

Tuesday was another matter all together.

Tuesday, Monkey woke up with what looked exactly like the measles. And I do mean exactly - Heather confirmed that when she saw Monkey Tuesday night and used some fancy-schmancy doctor terminology word-like thingamabobber (macular or maculopapular) that means a rash that "looks like measles." (See, I'm so smart! I can translate!!! Thank you Mr. Google!)

However, thanks to modern medicine in the form of the MMR vaccination, Monkey wasn't suffering from measles, but rather a reaction to her amoxicillin. And all I can say is? Thank g*d I don't have to worry that she'll die from this preventable disease. And I do mean thank g*d. See, along with discovering that I actually like children, well, at least my own? I have gone back to church. And found that I really like it.

The hard part on Tuesday morning was waiting for the doctor's office to call back. Monkey woke up with a fever, a slight cough, she still had the redness and irritation of the eyes (conjunctivitis), and now she had a scary looking rash. And, scarily enough, these are all indications of measles.....so even though I KNEW it was highly unlikely that she had measles, since she had been properly vaccinated, I still worried.

***soapbox alert***
I know that people do things for reasons that make sense to them. I understand that intellectually. But what I don't understand, from the bottom of my heart, is how someone could choose to possibly expose their child to a preventable disease - something that could harm or possibly even kill their child - and opt out of vaccinations. I just do not get it. And it makes me mad. And sad. I just don't get it.

I have now deleted four really really long sentences waxing rhapsodic about the dangers of not getting vaccinated, and the foolishness of thinking that herd immunity will protect your kids...if you are part of the herd, and you don't vaccinate, then you are a free-loader and selfish.
***end soapbox alert***

Ahem. Back to our regularly scheduled broadcast.

The pediatrician confirmed it was a reaction to the antibiotic, told me that Monkey's ear infections weren't responding to the antibiotic (which explained Monkey's continued night ritual of waking up crying from the pain, and not eating), switched her antibiotic and cleared her for school.

And last night? For the first time in I don't remember how long? Monkey ate her dinner, went to bed........and actually slept through the night.

Thank g*d for vaccinations, antibiotics, and the magic elixir known as tylenol. And, thank g*d for smart people who choose to dedicate their life (and several decades of student loan payments, ouch!) to caring for our kids. And yes, Heather (aka Mama Two!) that means you.

Mama, too - or is it Mama Two?

Monkey continues to learn words and names. It is thrilling to hear her run around the house chanting "Emma" and begging to videochat with her cousin. She can even handle the "H" sound and say Hadley, her other beloved cousin. What she can't really say? Despite 18 months of coaching? Yeah, she still really can't say Heather, which is the name of her godmother (my cousin, the pediatrician).

Last Friday night Heather came over for dinner, and together we all sat at the dining room table.

We were coaching Monkey on Heather's name, and asking her who we are:

• We asked who M was, and she said "Daddy!!!" Check.
• We asked who I was and she yelled "Mama!!" Check.
• We asked who Heather was and she yelled "Mama!!" Which made us all double over with laughter. Especially as Heather sputtered "I am NOT your mother."

Heather's new nickname is "Mama Two."

Of course, it could be worse. Last night Monkey called Heather "Daddy." I about peed myself laughing.

Another Saturday Night and I ain't got no (sitter)...***

Every other Saturday night is date night. We have a sitter, a young woman named Daphne who is attending Barnard College, that comes at 6pm (or 6:30) and watches Monkey while we hustle off and have dinner, see a movie, get reacquainted with one another. It is something I look forward to. I like spending the time with my husband when he is just that - my husband. We are usually home at 9pm or so, for a multitude of reasons (we're tired, sitters are expensive, and Monkey doesn't sleep in just because we stayed out late). So it isn't exactly a wild night out, but its our night out.

However, some times it is just better to cancel the sitter and stay in.

Last week Monkey started running a slight fever on Wednesday, accompanied with a cold. However, instead of getting better, over the next few days she got worse. By Saturday morning she was running a fever of 102.9 with both tylenol and ibuprofin in her system, her runny nose was green and bloody, she had some serious eye boogers, and she was scrubbing at her ears like they hurt. That, and she hadn't eaten solid food since Thursday. Oh, and every time the tylenol wore off at night she'd wake up screaming and I really do mean screaming - this isn't the hyperbole of a blog. She was as sick as I have ever seen her.

The pediatrician saw her and diagnosed her with a double ear infection. One was "bulging" which was causing the pain, and even typing that out makes me wince. And ache for her - no wonder she was waking up screaming.

So now she's on eye drops for the conjunctivitis (aka pink eye) and amoxycillin for the ear infections and sinus infection. Plus she gets tylenol and ibuprofin. Needless to say she doesn't like all of this medicine, but given everything, she is taking it like a champ. I am proud of her. She's been a real trooper.

Now, could someone please tell me how to get the pink, from the amoxycillin, out of my countertops? I'd like my rental deposit back.


***Apologies to Jimmy Buffett

ET phone home

So last week Monkey's school was closed, and we had two different sitters who watched her throughout the week. Both are teachers from her school, and both are wonderful. One is calm and is known to be Monkey's favorite at school - her name is Vicki. Vicki is who Monkey runs to when she needs comforting. I like that she has someone that she trusts and adores. The other sitter is more active, and is, not surprisingly, young. Her name is Paola. When Paola walks in the door, Monkey yelps (with delight) and starts running around screaming "ahhhh" which is universal toddler language for "chase me." And Paola obliges. So Monkey was in good hands last week.

However, what wasn't in good hands last week was Vicki's sidekick. She gave it to Monkey to play with one day, and didn't think much of it when Monkey went to town clicking buttons like a madwomen. Later, she looked at the "sent" messages only to discover that Monkey had sent no less than 4 separate messages to her friends....inserting the stock phrases the device lets you select.

Unfortunately for Vicki, the one message that Monkey sent to each person? It said "I'm too busy to talk." As in, go away.

Monkey sassed all of Vicki's friends via text-messaging, and she can't even string a sentence together yet!

Perspective

Two years ago, if you would have asked me what I would do if a small human rubbed snot across my forehead, I'm guessing that, of all the possible reactions I would have had, I would have NOT predicted that I would laugh. It's more likely that I would have predicted anger and revulsion. But mostly revulsion, because of my anal, germaphobe ways.

Fast forward to today.

Tonight, while I was on the phone with her godmother, Monkey decided to give me a kiss. She leaned in, and basically dragged her adorable snot-filled nose across my forehead as she tired to reach me...

I was both grossed out, and entranced by this gooey gesture of love. I was also laughing so hard I had to get off the phone.

I mean, seriously, how can I think both "awwwww" and "euwwwwww" at the same time? And the answer is, perspective. It's all about who gives you the snot.

Now, if I could just get that perspective without a side order of a sore throat, swollen glands, a headache and a sniffle, I'd be set.

A...B....C.....

Monkey freaked me out last night. I was pulling out the first (of several, natch) books to read to her at bedtime and I selected the illustrated ABC by Eric Carle. Monkey immediately said "a b c" and starting humming the ABC song.

My first thought was "holy shit, she can read!"

After I finished laughing at myself I realized that it was probably the last 0.5th rendition (from the 8,999,875,290,555.5 times I've read the book to her) that pushed her over the edge into recognition.

Howdy, neighbors!

I learned two things this morning:

1) I am TOTALLY entertained by doing a soft-shoe shuffle to my audience of one, a beautiful, charming and completely insane toddler who is in the midst of a melt-down because...oh, just because.

2) Monkey is totally NOT entertained by my dancing.


Things my neighbors learned by watching us through the kitchen window: Everyone in Apt. 4D is NUTS.

Flashcards

Flashcards rock.


Not only has Monkey learned new, helpful words like "robot" (seriously! it could come in handy!) using her flashcards, she has decided to teach the other non-verbal member of our household how to speak.

Yep, that's right, she holds the cards up to Ollie and even says the word.

She's a little frustrated at Ollie's refusal to say "apple." But, we've got an appointment with the school psychotherapist soon to see if she needs early intervention.

You know, to see if she is keeping up with the appropriate milestones for a 12-year old cat.

Why my floors are not clean

Soggy

This morning Monkey and I were running behind schedule.

Usually this would be my fault, for not waking up early enough to shower and blowdry my hair and try to look like a professional milf rather than a frumpy mom, but today it was Monkey dragging her feet on everything.

And I do mean everything:

She threw a temper tantrum when I tried to put her pants on BEFORE her shoes. So yeah, um, let's just say that her leggings are a wee bit stretched out now.

She begged for her bottle and then threw it on the ground when she got it. I'm thinking maybe she was expecting Veuve Cliquot champagne instead of warmed Rice Milk?

She'd ask for "puffs" (fancy gerber cereal treats shaped in a star) and then keen with anger and disappointment because the puffs I gave her weren't the precise ones she wanted. She wanted the other puffs from the other container, didn't I know that?

Once she got the puffs she REALLY wanted (sheesh mom!), she insisted on eating them with a fork. Hilarious, really, watching her spear each gerber puff and then try to get it into her mouth. I was impressed that she was precise enough with the fork to get that done. But it did take a really looooog time to eat. Plus: 1/3 shattered and went all over her, her highchair, and the floor; 1/3 fell off the fork onto the floor; 1/3 she actually consumed. Woo hoo, I got to wash the floor, again!

So long story short, we were running too late to walk to school. I loaded Monkey into the Ergo baby carrier, and away we went.

Only problem? I brought a sippy cup full of water with us, stored inside her lunch box, just in case she got thirsty on the way. Or, you know, in case the subway lost power and we got stuck underground for a few hours....not that I worry about these things, really!

Unfortunately for me, the sippy cup I grabbed is one of the leaky ones. And in the kerfuffle of the morning commute, the lunchbox was turned on its side and smashed against my back. Where the sippy cup leaked its contents the entire way, soaking my coat, my shirt, my pants, and yes, my underwear.

Nice.

On language, redux

Recently I posted an entry about Monkey and her alleged delay in language.

So I fretted and frowned and bought flashcards. And M (daddy) and I have been doing flashcards like mad with Monkey, who loves them. A lot. So much so that she cries piteously and has a tantrum when it is time to stop doing flashcards. (ahhhh, a child after my own heart.....I fondly remember begging my mother to teach me long division when I was a kid because it was interesting. and yes, I was a nerd.)

Not only did I fret, I also (ahem) counted the words that she uses. Every single one. Turns out she uses something close to 43 words. And growing. She seems to know a new one every day.

And, according to her pediatrician, she is not only not behind, she's ahead of the curve. She is apparently VERY verbal. Just really really stubborn about deciding when she wants to use her words.

Recognize anyone else in that description of a highly verbal stubborn person? Yeah, I don't either.....

One other thing......it drives me CRAZY that one week she's behind, the next she's ahead. Good lord. It's a good thing I stopped reading all those "milestone" articles in magazines, books, and online....otherwise I'd really drive myself crazy. After all, if my own personal team of experts can't agree, then how on g*d's green earth am I supposed to know how to trust?

I think I'll just stick to my (unbiased) opinion of Monkey: she's perfect, just the way she is.

My cat and my kid, they conspire

Monkey and Ollie both decided that 5m was an awesome time to wake my ass up this morning.

Pfft.

.....good thing I think both my kid and my cat are adorable and beloved beyond words....otherwise I'd have rolled over, put the pillow over my head, and ignored the fact that my daughter was yodeling "hello!" and "hello mama" from her crib while my cat gnawed on my wristwatch in an effort to be fed and/or brushed.

Man, those two are TOTALLY in cahoots! Stinkers.

Murphy's Law

I think it is Murphy's Law in our household that everytime daddy has to leave for a business trip, Monkey gets sick.

This time, dad's in frigid St. Louis, Misery (I mean Missouri, whoops!) for an executive-MBA training seminar his company put together. They're cracking open his skull and pouring in mba-speak. He grouses about it, but always confesses that he's learning. As if a Ph.D. and a CFA weren't enough....did I ever mention that I am proud of my smart husband?

Saturday morning the three of us went to the grocery store, which was awesome since I could get help carrying stuff in. It's hard to grocery shop if you need more than one smaller bag of stuff, since Monkey is still so little. We have to go up four steps to get into our apartment building, so the equation looks something like this:

stairs + stroller + monkey + groceries + my purse + anything else I'm carrying = possible disaster

No sooner had we arrived at Fairway (my favorite grocery store on earth - check out their blog at http://www.fairwaymarket.com/index.cfm?Area=blog for a great foodie read) than Monkey puked. On her shirt, jacket, pants, shoes, as well as dad's jeans and shoes. We cleaned her up as best we could, and by the time we were done cleaning up her dad, she was busy laughing and chortling again. Kids are so resiliant, it's amazing! We shopped quickly, and made it home without any further incident.

Thinking we'd somehow dodged a bullet, our lives continued apace. Dad flew to St. Louis, the babysitter arrived and I went out to dinner with some family & friends. Got home, went to bed early (10pm), and was relieved that Monkey hadn't puked any more.

famous.last.words.

I woke up that evening to the sound of Monkey crying, and discovered that she had puked in her sleep. So I changed her, changed the sheets, calmed her down and put her back to sleep. Then sat outside her room, listening to her breath, fearful she'd pull a Janice Joplin. Yes, irrational. Yes, every other parent would cop to the same thing, if pressed.

Finally went to sleep. Woke to more crying and puke. Random thoughts included "huh, toddler puke stinks" and "boy I hope the washing machines aren't busy tomorrow" as I cleaned puke out of Monkey's hair, got her into new jammies and changed the cribsheet, again.

Woke to more crying at 5am - but this was ok, Monkey was asking for a bottle! Huzzah! She's feeling better!! She wouldn't go back to sleep, however, so I held her in the glider as she drifted off to sleep....and then puked all over me. More than once.

Stomach flu: 5 pukes. Mama: 3 hours sleep. The flu takes round one!

We spent Sunday lolling around the apartment, playing with flashcards and occasionally eating a bit. When Monkey went down for a nap I did too, until the phone rang and woke me up. So I cleaned every conceivable surface I could think of, hoping to eradicate the stomach virus from our apartment. Tried to do laundry about 5 times, but one washing-machine is broken and I could never get in.....sigh.

Long story short, Monkey is fine! I'm exhausted, but she's at school today and my phone hasn't rung (yet). Holy crap, my blackberry just vibrated as I typed in "yet" and I thought it was my phone and jumped about 2 feet into the air. Ok, biting my tongue and knocking on wood now......

Uneeda lose Elmo like you need a hole in your head

When random strangers start shouting and repeating themselves, I tend to pretend I don't hear them and move on. Quickly. Call it what you will, there is no way I am going to get trapped into any interaction with a rambling ranting repeating (alliteration, cool!) stranger. Especially when I have Monkey with me.

So, yesterday we were in the grocery store on the way home from daycare, picking up coke zero for me, Uneeda (he he he) crackers for Monkey, and beer for dad who is having a long week. Some guy behind me starts yelling “you dropped something important! Something important! IMPORTANT!! IMPOOOOORRRTANTTTTTTT” and I quickly glance back thinking okaaaay, crazy person, let's just move along now…..and he’s holding out Elmo. Yikes.

Instead of a random bit of mental instability, I got a random act of kindness. And I don't think this guy has kids, otherwise he could have just said "Elmo!" and saved himself from acting unhinged.

My caveman

I read an article in the New York Times the other day that spoke about communicating with toddlers, called "Coping with the Caveman in the Crib."

To paraphrase, while we (allegedly rational adults) get primal when we are frustrated and angry, toddlers (who are already primal) "go Jurassic."

I about fell out of my chair laughing - that is so Monkey! Maybe her nickname should be Pebbles?

On Language (apologies to William Safire)

I had a nightmare moment yesterday afternoon. The phone rang at work and I immediately recognized the number as Monkey's daycare; I answered thinking it was the worst and Monkey needed to go to the hospital or doctor or something....it is quite amazing, how many vivid (and awful) scenarios your mind can produce in the 3 seconds it takes to reach out, grab the receiver, and say hello.

It wasn't anything like that, just that her main teacher wanted to talk to me one-on-one about Monkey's language. Needless to say that very short conversation gave me a heart attack, and I was convinced we'd have to put Monkey into an early intervention class starting today.

After a much longer conversation when I picked Monkey up at school, I learned that Monkey is lagging a bit in language skills, at least compared to what she comprehends and the kids she is in class with. However, after talking with Monkey's godmom (the pediatrician), I am satisfied that Monkey is well within the normal range of language developement - although admittedly at the less developed end of the spectrum.

Turns out she uses a lot more words with us than she does at school, and a lot of that is personality driven. She is stubborn and if someone else answers the question or says the word first (like in response to flash cards) she won't answer. Period. I imagine her internal dialogue runs something like this: "what, are you deaf? that kid ALREADY said doggy. let's get a move on, folks..."

She also gets stubborn (and I do mean mulish) and will use some words with some teachers but not with others. Manipulative little bugger! So, we do need to work with her on language, and make her (um, hello temper tantrums) use her words instead of asking her a series of yes/no questions and letting her communicate that way. In other words, stop making it easy on her.

On the way home I bought some flash cards at a childrens book store, thinking we'd "try" it....and lo and behold, she really liked it! Huzzah! Best 3 dollars I ever spent. Turns out she even knows words I've never even tried to teach her - like fish. Cool. And so interesting to realize how much she knows that I don't even know she knows. (And if that isn't an awkward sentence I don't know what it.)

I called one of my closest friends to tell her this story, and she asked if my parents laugh when I tell them stories about how pig-headed stubborn Monkey can be. I said yes, they think it is hilarious. So apparently it's my karma, to have a stubborn kid.

Everyone that knows me? All together now, nod your head and laugh.

Just like the Patriots....

Just like the Patriots' undefeated season, all good things come to pass....

To wit, Monkey's streak of cold-free days has ended. I officially had to wipe away boogers this morning. Sigh.

Do you think if I threw it a ticker-tape parade, her immune system would beat off more colds?

Meow meow

Every morning I follow roughly the same routine. Somewhere in the mix of things, usually wedged between putting in my contacts and taking my shower, I brush my beloved cat Ollie.

Ollie has a lot of fur. When she was a kitten, I trained her to stand on the toilet seat to be brushed; this was easy on my back, as I could sit on the edge of the tub, and it limited the flying fur to one part of the apartment. (yes, I've always been slightly anal. thank you for noticing)

To this day, Ollie will race you down the hallway and hop on the toilet seat as you enter the bathroom, ever hopeful that you are there to brush her (and not use the facilities).

Ollie is a trusting cat. I can flip her on her back and brush her belly. She lets exactly two people in the world handle her this way, me and Monkey's daddy. We are her humans.

As I flipped Ollie this morning for a full belly brushing, and both felt and listened to the deep guttural purring rumbling out of her, I thought of what an emblem of trust this was: a cat, fully exposed. Because come on, how many cats have you ever known that would willingly do that?

I remember my childhood pet, Puff, and how she would hide when my neighbor Buddy would come over. Buddy had teased her maybe three times, and she decided that she was done with him. Now, he grew to be a perfectly decent man, husband and father. I'm happy he is still my friend. But I remember how he violated Puff's trust and that was it.

I hope Monkey grows up to be deserving of Ollie's trust. While dogs are seemingly incapable of not loving humans, cats are more picky. Like us humans, with our opposable thumbs and complex emotions, cats only trust you if you earn it, and earn it consistently.

Maybe that should be our model for teaching Monkey to deal with both humans and animals. She needs to consistently treat them with the respect and compassion they deserve. She needs to prove, each time she deals with them, that she is worthy of their trust.

So far, she is winning Ollie's trust. A serious infusion of treats helps this process along. But so does Monkey's willingness (and ability) to gently pet and hug Ollie, her "meow meow." Ok, all together now, say "awwwwww."

Community

There is a new restaurant in the 'hood, called Community Food & Juice.

Along with Nana, who graced us with her presence (and babysitting skills - suhweet!) on Saturday night, we took Monkey to brunch at Community on Sunday morning.

Two (ok, 3) things were of note:

1. It is necessary to get there early. 45 minutes after the place opened it was jammed with families.
2. The food is awesome.
3. I had completely forgotten how enjoyable it is to eat a meal, in public, without serving as the referee in a food-chucking contest!

Monkey ate her meal (big ole bowl of fresh fruit) and drank out of a real (plastic) cup and only threw, maybe, 3-4 cheerios on the ground!

I felt so civilized, I didn't even know what to do with myself. And, it was nice to not have to leave a 30% tip to pay off the staff for their post-Monkey clean up efforts, including bringing in the power washer to scrub down the table, chairs, floor and any surrounding surfaces coated in semi-chewed cheerios and general toddler debris.