Fever Barfs

Two weeks ago, James barfed in his bed. We have had one or more of us grappling with fever, barfing/nausea, and diarrhea to different degrees every day since. It's a lingering sickness, too. Alice stayed on the couch for 4 days. 4 days! That girl usually can't stay still. I've been nauseous for 3 days so far. And it's not the acute, barfy kind of nauseous. It's the "first trimester" kind of nauseous that colors the whole day in grey and leaves me on the couch begging for unconsciousness. I took a pregnancy test just in case. Yes, I'm paranoid. No, I'm not pregnant.

Bobby stayed home from work yesterday to take care of us sickies and the perfectly healthy, energetic 2- and 4-year-olds. I'm slightly better today. Just enough to prepare simple food and read to kids on the couch. Blech.

Alice was energetic enough to go to school today. Robert and James and Bobby are in the clear. Matthew remains blissfully asymptomatic. It's just me who's feeling gross for another couple days. Ugh.

That feeling again

This week with the kids, I caught myself thinking,"Wait a minute, someone's missing."

And no one was missing.

This happened to me before when Robert was 3 months and 9 days old.

Matthew is 3 months and 20 days old today.

Coincidence? I have no recollection of this happening at any point in James' infancy, so maybe the timing is just coincidence.

Either way, it is a momentous feeling. A milestone. For the first time in months, I've reached a point where my energy supply has finally outlasted the demand on my energy. Instead of running from one fire to the next, there are gaps here and there where there's no one to worry about. Not even me. I finally have the wherewithal to say, "Huh, I guess I could take on something else." Dare I start a project?!

Let's not get carried away, here.

I believe the following recent developments have given me this new breathing room:

• Matthew generally sleeps through the night. His needs are simple and he's generally content with my instinctive/habitual responses to those needs. I therefore get enough rest and I feel competent as his mother, respectively.
• James suddenly speaks in full sentences with pronunciations that all of us can (mostly) understand. He tells jokes. He expresses needs/frustrations better. It's a miracle!
• Robert and James can play almost ten minutes together without fighting. It's interesting to see them experiment with the relationship: trying new things, testing boundaries. It's not always pretty. The biggest change, however, is seeing how they miss each other and think about each other when they are apart. 

I think it's getting easier...new normal...or something. Even with a surge of fever-barfing-diarrhea sickness making the rounds this week, I'm feeling pretty good. 

100 Days

Robert tells me Matthew can smile with just his mouth or with his mouth and eyes together. Smiling eyes. Matthew watches his older siblings at play. Every time Robert brings his face close to Matthew's face (which is about 100 times a day), Matthew opens his mouth reeeeeeally wide. It makes Robert laugh and want to play with him more.

Matthew turns 100 days old today.

1 Day

10 Days

100 Days

Forever ago, I was listening to a story on NPR and learned that people in some parts of Asia will celebrate a child's 100th day of life by giving gifts to others. It's a day of gratitude. I decided right then that I would celebrate the 100th day of each of my future children, should I have any, in like manner.


Since then, I have noted each child's 100th day. And even a couple 1000th days.

I haven't managed to give any gifts away. Yet.

I want to give something meaningful and useful and beautiful. Something that represents how grateful I am to have had each of these babies that long.

I've considered planting trees in their names. Or maybe donating funds to a library or school.

Any suggestions?

Chewing Habit

I bought my 2.25-year-old dude a teething toy today because he just can't stop gnawing. If it's in his hand, it's in his mouth. If it's in front of his mouth, it's in his mouth. He's dismantled cardboard boxes, books, and Barbie dolls with just his teeth. He's also chewed open acorns and bouncy balls. Most of the time, it's done mindlessly, but he's now left his distinct mark on dining room chairs, CDs, eating utensils, and windowsills...

James was here.

Our house does not contain lead paint, thankfully.

He's not teething anymore.

Did we take the pacifier away too soon? Too late? 

Is it a nervous tick? An outlet for anxiety?

What's up?!

Croup

Oh, croup. You sadden me. It breaks my heart to hear baby Matthew wheeze and bark through this cold. You make me think my child is on the brink of suffocating to death. Every time. And we've played this game HOW many times with Alice already?

Oh, croup. Alice has just barely outgrown you. You completely skipped over Robert and James. I thought we had come to some sort of understanding. You, me, a kid in the Emergency Room...we were past all this!

Oh, croup. You don't kill kids like you used to (thank heavens for diptheria and measles vaccinations!), but I never can fully relax knowing you're lurking somewhere nearby. You surprised me again this weekend despite my age and experience. That's a nasty thing to do. No fun. Fortunately for me and Matthew, he doesn't seem terrifically bothered by you. Sure, he labors to breathe, but he sleeps soundly, eats regularly, and he still has smiles and coos for me. This won't be nearly as easy in a year or so when he's crying and screaming for air in the middle of the night, terrified that he can't breathe...as terrified as I will be for him.

I hate you, croup.