Sixth Week Adventure

Eloise gave us a bit of a scare yesterday. I awoke to the sound of her choking at about 6:15 and found her struggling to expel a large amount of mucous. When turning her upside down and patting her back didn't work, I ran her to the basement where Dave was getting ready for an early work meeting. He took over the effort to clear out the mucous, but it just kept coming. We retrieved the bulb syringe and spent the next 20 minutes battling to keep her clear and breathing. While I ran to wake Sam and get him ready for what looked like a trip to the ER, Eloise decided to turn a shade of blue and Dave decided to call 911.

Before I knew it, we had five of St. Paul's finest from Fire and Rescue standing in our kitchen. By this time Eloise had stopped choking and was breathing fine. She was lethargic, pale, and clammy but breathing fine. I took the ride with her in the ambulance and by 7:00 she was getting checked out by the ER doc. After an examination, RSV test, and EKG, he declared her in generally good health despite a small cold that seemed to have caused the extra mucous and the choking. We were home by 9:30 with orders to observe her and return if needed.

I am grateful for a number of things related to this event. That I heard Eloise choking and realized the sound differed from the grunting we hear throughout the night; that this happened while Dave was still home; that we knew what to do with a baby choking on mucous because we saw a nurse clear out amniotic fluid when Eloise was choking on it the day after she was born; that Sam was absolutely cooperative when it counted and was even somewhat elated to see firefighters in action and spend part of his morning in the ER where he saw doctors and nurses using the very "tools" he pretends to use every day; that none of the healthcare professionals made us feel we had made a mistake when we called on them to help an infant who turned out to be fine; that Eloise just has a small cold and this incident is most likely an isolated one; and that she's sleeping right here next to me as I write this.

Lulu

May I introduce Ms. Eloise to the blogosphere! She's looking like her mama in this particular photo, and I have to admit after having a son who looks so very much like his dad, I am pleased that she's acquired a few of my characteristics.

Life is a little crazy and totally wonderful right now. I allowed myself to forget what it's like to get so little sleep, but other than that I'm loving life as a mother of two. Sam adores Eloise and is very sweet to her (while also being pissed with his parents that he has to share our time and attention). Some days are certainly harder than others, but I am infinitely more calm this second time around.

So here's to blogging Eloise in 2014! You know, for the one reader I have left.

Stuffed

This pregnancy will be coming to an end soon, and I'd like to take this moment to formally complain about a related condition I have been experiencing for the past 7+ months. It's called rhinitis of pregnancy and basically it means that I have not been able to breathe out of my nose for a very, very long time. This probably doesn't sound like a big deal, but it's certainly an annoying feature when trying to eat, speak, or sleep -- things I like to participate in daily. I had a bit of this condition while pregnant with Sam, but nothing quite like this. So, here's to a few things coming to an end soon and many, many new things to begin.

The Tenant

We have some exciting news at our house. My sister, Cassie, has officially moved in with us for the next few months. She decided to leave the mountains of Montana for the big city once again, and we've offered her space to make the transition. It's been one week, and so far, I love it (she might read this post so I have to say that). I kid. It's awesome. There's just something about having my very own blood relative nearby that makes me feel like myself.

Also. She has some great clothes. In fact, I'm wearing her sweater right now. 

I'm Here

It's true. I have been neglecting the blog. Not sure why except that I think writing begets writing, and I just haven't been doing much of it since finishing the dissertation. That, and life plugs along keeping me busy and tired.

I'm officially 34 weeks pregnant, and I've been feeling the aches and pains of that milestone lately. Nothing serious. Just the added 25 pounds on my ligaments and joints along with nightly indigestion, congestion, and (from what I'm told) earth-quaking snoring (for which Dave purchased a 40-pack of industrial earplugs and about which I have decided to not be offended).

Sam seems to be okay with the idea of a baby coming along. He likes to put his own baby doll in his shirt during nap time and cares for her like a sweet big brother throughout the day. We still haven't decided on a name for the real baby who will arrive soon, so Sam calls her Our Baby, which is super cute.

He's also processing the upcoming changes and protesting them in ways that are challenging. Like, for example, refusing to nap despite being extremely overtired and irritable during the late afternoon and evening hours. We never thought he'd be into tantrums given his sweet disposition, but, boy, were we wrong. They've been in full swing here. It's quite a sight to behold. I'm sure I'll be writing more about that whole phenomenon soon enough.

I admit. I'm beat now. I don't have a great way to end this post, so I'll just cut it short. It feels good to write, though. I'll give it a go again tomorrow.

X Marks the Chromosome

Did I mention we're having a baby girl? We are. And seventeen weeks away from her arrival, we already have this pile of pink clothing hand-me-downs.

This pink is one of the reasons I freaked out a little over having a girl (although, let's face it, those clothes are adorable). It was a small reason, though, compared with the image of the teenaged girl I kept picturing in my mind. I immediately imagined a make-up wearing, nail-polished tween telling me how much she hates me and slamming doors.

Then I decided to get over that image and to enjoy the decade or so before it happens. Now I'm more chill about having a girl. Except for her name. We have a dozen or so boy names we like but cannot settle on a single girl one. We've ruled out Miley, though. So that's a start.

Lessons In Parenting. Continued.

We decided it's time to transition Sam to a big boy bed. The first step, we thought, would be to talk up the bed. Create a schema of sorts. When we first explained this big boy bed thing to Sam, he didn't quite understand. Dave thought that showing him a few pictures of toddler beds online could help. As you can imagine, when you Google "toddler bed," you find quite a few images of beds that look like cars and trucks and trains. We had not anticipated this, but thought we had explained clearly enough to Sam that he would not be getting one of those beds.

His standard wood (i.e. boring) bed arrived yesterday. He was thrilled to see the box and could not wait to open it. I told him he had to wait until his dad got home, and Sam wanted to call him to tell him to hurry.

We made this video message instead. I warn you, it takes a very sad turn near the end.

Eventually, the Pirates Booty did help comfort the crying boy. And now I'm shopping for a car themed comforter.

Winging It

Sam is super cute. And smart. And funny. Generally, he's a lot of fun to be around.

Those are the things I try to remember every time Sam hits or bites his dad. Which is fairly frequently these days. This morning was the worst of it. After giving him the "hands are not for hitting" lecture a couple of times, Sam gave it some thought, wound up, and punched Dave square in the jaw.

"That's it!" I said. "You are going to your room!"

I carried him in there kicking and screaming, put him down on the rug, closed the door, and listened to him cry for three minutes. He didn't even try to get out.

This was Sam's very first version of a time-out. He's not really a time-out kind of kid and we're not really time-out parents, but something had to be done. Mostly for my sake. Showing who's boss. That sort of thing.

We made it through the morning without a third round of hitting. I'm calling it a minor success.