Our first Christmas
Our first Christmas as a family of three was so awesome that we held it over so we could celebrate two days in a row. Well, maybe we held it over because Oscar awoke on Christmas day with a horrible cold. He had been feeling poorly for a couple days, with a fever running around 103 before Tylenol. With Tylenol, it was dropping down to 100-101, so no big deal. On Christmas morning, though, this is what Oscar looked like at about 8:00 am. I sat him on the kitchen island and he proceeded to assume this position, which he really did not want to change.
I, of course, thought we should power through whatever Oscar was feeling and celebrate Christmas. Etta, after all, was raring to go.
We moved into the living room, where Etta tried to get her brother to go check out the presents left by Santa. When that didn’t get him off the sofa, she decided to take one for the team and feign the holiday spirit and open some presents. Oscar eventually rallied when he saw Etta with a gift he liked (her princess ride on), walking to the playroom to get his similar toy (his birthday gift from Grandma and Papa for his first birthday). Even he couldn’t get excited about it, though, and we decided to call off the unwrapping of the presents when he got off the car and fell asleep on the floor.
Eventually, when Oscar just couldn’t muster any energy at all, I broke down and took him to urgent care. They thought it was either the flu, some random virus or pneumonia, but his chest x-ray was clear. They sent us home with a prescription to force some fluids into him, preferably something like a milkshake (why do I never get these prescriptions for myself?) and we set off to find food. Finding food on Christmas Day is not so easy. I wasn’t able to stop at the store, since I was told not to take Oscar into public areas, since he was highly contagious, so a drive thru was needed. Easier said than found. Long story short, we ended up driving almost an hour to find food. Oscar drank almost none of the required shake, but Etta made up for it, of course. We managed to get home and ended our first Christmas together by falling into bed before 6:00 pm.
I figured there was no way Oscar was recovering from this bug for at least a couple of days, so I was in for a surprise when I got up this morning and found a bright-eyed Oscar asking for food. After eating something, he ran into the living room and found his stocking. Christmas mayhem finally ensued, with Oscar tearing through a few presents and then playing for hours.
Yes, Oscar is wearing the same pyjamas as the day before (he even wore these to the urgent care). You can tell it’s another day, though, by the hair.
Thankfully, Oscar was willing to attend to his personal hygiene and take a shower (with glasses) before we opened more presents.
We got tired of opening presents. Not because there were hundreds, but I’m happy to say that my kids like to open a present and then play with it for a considerable while. No tearing through dozens of presents at a time yet. The only downside is that we have now had three present-opening sessions and will need a fourth tomorrow to get through the presents under the tree. Even I find three days of this to be a bit much.
Anyway, it ended up being a beautiful day today and we ventured outside to play with Oscar’s scooter.
The kids were having a good time, but I noticed Etta wasn’t looking quite like her fun-loving self, so we headed inside.
When we got inside, Etta showed me something awesome. A nose even runnier than her brother’s had been the day before. Super. Then she threw up (which was the first symptom Oscar exhibited). She’s now asleep with a fever, and I suspect that we’ll have to postpone our last day of opening presents and read some of these gifts instead. I’m thinking that little kid who said “pooh” to receiving books for Christmas (see youtube) wouldn’t last long in our house. . .
Hope your holidays were healthier than ours.
Etta’s Big Day
Happy first birthday, Etta! It’s hard to believe that Etta has been home with us for almost six months now. She has changed so much in such a short amount of time. My little baby has transformed almost entirely into a toddler. She is not walking yet, but she’s climbing on everything. She has been able to climb an entire flight of stairs for about two months now and has started to climb onto the table in the playroom. Practicing for tabletop dancing perhaps?
Etta has four teeth now, just not the four you’d imagine. My little vampire managed to switch up the order of entry of her top teeth, leaving her grin a little funny looking. She’s a teething machine right now, so maybe she’ll even things out in the near future. In the meantime, I’m doing what I can to help out, lending my nose to her periodically, since it’s her favorite teething ring.
Etta has learned a great deal from her brother. She’s a master at playing with all of his toys. She runs cars up and down the floors just like Oscar and knows how to disassemble his train set (obviously, he’s not thrilled with this). The surprising thing about this is that Etta has enchanted her brother to the point that he’s actually willing to let her play with his toys at all. Pretty impressive if you think about it. He’ll even share treats with her. The other day we were having some popcorn and Oscar took a piece of popcorn, broke it up like I do for her (to make sure she only gets the fluffy part and none of the kernel) and put it in her mouth. Unbelievable.
She has quite a vocabulary built up already, saying “choo choo”, “chicken,” “uh oh,” “doggie,” “papa” (grandpa), “up,” and a few other words on a regular basis and some, like “mama,” less frequently. She also signs, waves and blows kisses. My favorite, though, is her beauty queen wave. She’s been working on it for months, and rolled it out the other day on our hay ride. She sat on a hay bale (all alone, literally pushing me away, since she’s become quite independent lately) waving to the crowd (there was none) and beaming the biggest smile ever. It was a sight to behold, believe me.
Maybe the biggest thing she’s learned from her brother, though, is how to pitch a fit. Little Miss Etta is no longer the easiest baby ever. She has learned to throw quite an impressive tantrum, complete with an arched back and the reverse head butt. It had to happen eventually, I guess.
We’re celebrating her birthday all weekend, starting on the day itself (Friday), with a pre-dawn roadtrip for doughnuts and pancakes and cake with Uncle P and Aunt L from Kansas that evening, followed by the Pumpkin Festival in Half Moon Bay on Saturday and who knows what to follow on Sunday. Happy Birthday, Etta!
Fun in ‘Homa II
Still not loving Vietnamese food
Loving any food
Walking in the woods with Papa and Cousin J
Apparently the problem was with the swim teacher and not swimming
Fun in ‘Homa
We survived our first flights as a family of three! I considered this trip to see the grandparents to be a bit of a test run for our upcoming trip to Thailand, and from our travel experiences so far, I’m both reassured that we’ll manage fine and also a bit daunted. Oscar managed the trip fairly well, but both he and his sister are proving to be a bit clingy now that we’ve arrived at Grandma’s house (he refers to both Grandma and Papa as “Grandma”).
Oscar was, again, a fabulous flyer. He sat in his seat all by himself, without trying to push himself onto my lap, which was nice. He scored window seats after the gate agent noticed that American had reseated the two of us in different rows (geniuses). I was concerned that he would be scared of takeoff, but he loved it – yelling “go go go” to make the plane go faster. When we left Dallas we ran into some weather, and he was a little nervous in the clouds, but when we broke out of them to a point where he could look at the clouds all he could say was “wow” over and over. Very sweet.
Etta loved being the center of attention everywhere we went, with people on our flight from SFO stopping by to tell us how beautiful our little family is. Unfortunately, when we arrived in Oklahoma things changed. My previously “easy” daughter apparently is experiencing separation anxiety and has not allowed a single person other than me to touch her, which isn’t going over well with her cousins, aunt and grandparents, but we still have a few days left here.
Oscar and Etta both experienced their first summer storms (we don’t really have thunder and lightning in No. California, and it only rains between mid-October and March). Etta was clueless, but Oscar seemed to think the lightning and thunder were fun and the fact that it was raining when it was warm was awesome, apparently. He thought the first clap of thunder was “cool,” but the very loud lightning strikes were a bit scary until Papa yelled back at the lightning, which seemed to make everything okay.
Other than that, we’re just hanging out with the family. Oscar loooves his cousins, who seem to think he’s a new pet, chasing him around until he squeals. Grandma just made a big batch of chocolate chip cookies, which I suspect will be demolished by tomorrow morning.
A few pics from our afternoon today . . .
Life as a full-time (stay at home) mom
Before going out on maternity leave, I totally expected that I would spend more time blogging while I was out. Clearly, I would have more to blog about – entire days spent with the kids, with all of the photo ops that would naturally afford, would certainly lead me to write more. Turns out, that’s not the case.
I had forgotten one important fact. My life is sort of boring. Yeah, sure, staying home all day with the kids is fun for us, but who really wants to read about my attempts (failed) to teach Oscar to dress himself?
Or my daily campaign to keep my son out of my girly products?
Or my fading dream of raising a boy who appreciates good food?
Or my periodic reminders to myself that this leave is actually supposed to be for me to bond with Etta (which really is silly, since anyone who meets her bonds with her immediately)? Kidding, of course. You don’t see as many pics of Etta only because (1) she’s usually sitting or crawling on or over me, (2) we’re not accompanied on our outings with a photographer or (3) instead of snapping pics at home, I’m usually dropping the camera, asking “what is that in your mouth? no, no, you can’t eat ____.”
And, if I don’t blog about those things, there really isn’t all that much left to write about. Swimming lessons (for Etta, since Oscar is finished with that – bye bye swimming)? Our daily walk to see the train? The mystery illness that hit everyone in the house over the course of the past week? My trip to the FedEx office to apply for Etta’s visa to visit Thailand? I’m telling you, my life is chock-full of excitement. Here’s hoping our day tomorrow will be blog-worthy. . .
My water babies
I was all set to post about my children’s love of water today. Both had just come off of great swim lessons over the past few days and Oscar had been practicing his moves in my big pool-sized tub. Then I went and screwed around with perfection and rescheduled Oscar’s lesson for this afternoon, since he and his sister had back-to-back hearing tests this morning. Big mistake.
We got to the pool (me, with video camera in hand to document his amazing progress) and Oscar was psyched to jump in the pool, but Teacher Liza was late, so we sat there for 15 minutes in the sun and Oscar started to doze. When she got there, he wanted nothing to do with her or the pool, but as any good parent who had shelled out the extortionate and obviously non-refundable private lesson fee would do in this situation, I threw him into the pool with his teacher anyway. Not a good call. He worked himself up so badly that he actually threw up a little in the pool. Yeah, I couldn’t believe it was happening either. So, I got him out of there and we went home where he took a nice two hour nap.
When we went to go get dinner later, I asked him what happened at the pool and he said “bye bye swimming.” When Oscar says bye to something, that’s usually the end of it unless he follows it up with “hi”. Like, at night he’ll say “bye bye train” and then follow it up with “hi train”, “bye bye Etta” and then “hi Etta”, “bye bye milk” and then “hi milk”. I tried to get him excited about his next lesson by telling Etta about the fact she was going to go swimming in the morning. Pretty awesome mom, huh? Intentionally sparking jealousy among the kids? Don’t worry, it didn’t even work. His reaction? Bye bye swimming.
I’ve decided not to push it for the time being. I paid for the private lessons. If need be, I’ll hop into the pool with the instructor if that gets him over this hump. I just don’t want to create a situation where he hates water (least of all since we’re about to embark on a vacation where pools will be a highlight of every stop). I’m sure we’ll figure it out.
Since I don’t have any cute pics of swimming babies, I’ll just post a few from around the house today.
Two months
It’s almost impossible for me to believe that Etta has only been home with us for two months. The time has flown by, and it feels like she’s been part of our lives forever. Even Oscar has taken a liking to her. She seems to be a bit in awe of him, watching him like a hawk, which I suspect helps a lot. But now that she’s doing a bit more, he’s a little more into her, too. When Etta first came to us, she could not bear any weight on her legs and she really couldn’t do much of anything. Now, she’s able to sit up, prop herself up on her elbows and can even stand while supported (a tiny bit). Oscar thinks this is hilarious. He loves to see the former blob standing and moving towards him. Who could blame him?
The sibling rivalry right now is actually directed towards Oscar. When I hug or kiss Oscar, little miss Etta lets it be known that she expects equal treatment. Very loudly. When I sing her the theme song I’ve written for her, she grunts on the last note, letting me know that she expects me to sing it again.
Her personality is definitely starting to emerge. She likes to sing and dance and she’s very giggly, especially when I kiss her under her chin or tickle her belly. She’s also a bit of a flirt, but only with attractive men. She literally bats her eyelashes at them and gives them a big smile. Nanny Norma watched this for the first time the other day, shook her head and said “oh, this is not going to be good for you. not good”. She’s serious only with strangers now. Around us, she’s just smiley and goofy.
She’s a huge fan of food, and she’s even able to feed herself. She’s been able to get the bottle in her mouth (with limited success) for a while now, but we started giving her Cheerios the other day and she can even grasp those and get them into her. Let’s just say she’s highly motivated. My girl likes her food. She loves mangos and also this custardy banana dessert thing, and she can pack it away. Yesterday she enjoyed her first pasta dish, thanks to the food processor. She’s only 26”, but she’s 18 pounds already (which I think her ped said was 56th% – she was 24” and 14.7 pounds on March 11th, to give you some idea of how much she’s grown (not that she was at all tiny in the orphanage)).
Norma was worried that she was gordo, but our pediatrician convinced her that she is the epitome of a healthy baby. I think we’re both having a little trouble knowing what to do with a child who just eats when you put food in front of her. There’s no production involved here. With Oscar, almost our entire day, every day that first year was all about getting enough food into him. Not an issue with Etta. Who would have thought that a baby from Ethiopia would be so incredibly healthy. Her labs were all perfect, although we’ll redo the parasite-related ones just in case. Aside from using the scabies lotion and lotrimin once each while in Addis just in case to clear up whatever little rash she had, she’s the picture of good health. I’ll knock wood while I’m typing this, but she hasn’t even had a cold since I met her. Amazing.
I should be attaching photos of my little girl, but I’m stuck in my office, where I’ve been for hours and will remain for even longer. Will try to do so this weekend. Right after I do all that other stuff I have on my list. . .
The best-laid plans
Well, the plan was that I was going to make a point of updating this old thing at least every Saturday. I was in the midst of doing just that two weeks ago when my precious children got into an argument. By “argument,” I mean Oscar yelling at Etta while on the bed. She started it, I’m sure, by doing something as annoying as smiling at her brother all gummily. I separated them, knowing that it would be only moments before she nastily provoked another attack, perhaps by cooing at him adoringly. I turned to grab bottles and nighttime diapers on the bedside table, thinking I’d see this as an opportunity to get them both into bed. When I turned my head back to the foot of the bed, I saw Oscar running across the bed, away from his sister, straight for the laptop at the edge of the bed. He went to swerve to avoid it, and managed to twist and fall, seemingly in slow motion, right off the bed.
I got to him a second after he hit, but obviously that was too late. He screamed like I’d never heard before. I was thinking maybe he’d dislocated his elbow, since that happens all the time with him, but when I went to feel it, I knew we had a much bigger problem. His elbow was not where it was supposed to be. Not even close. It felt like it was about two inches to the right of center on his arm. Not good.
So, this is where the fun started. I got both of the kids dressed (sort of), bottles made (knowing we were not going to get back home soon), mapped directions to the good E.R. and piled us all into the car, which seemed a lot smaller than usual. I think it took 20 minutes to get to the hospital, but it seemed like an eternity, probably because Oscar took this opportunity to start stringing three words together (for the first time ever, BTW) “Mom elbow hurt” and “elbow ow Mom” over and over again.
We arrived at the hospital, Oscar screaming, and were seen immediately (screamers get this treatment, BTW). This is where it all began to resemble a farce. I had Etta in one arm and Oscar in another. We saw a doctor, then were pulled into a room where I was told to get Oscar on the bed. We all know the only way that was going to happen, so I got onto the bed with Oscar, Etta sitting on top of me. This was about 9:00 pm. The three of us did not leave this bed until a little before 3:00 am the next morning. I even got to the point where I was able to ignore the stares while we were wheeled from room to room, Oscar and me lying down with Etta sitting on top of my stomach watching everything. The only time we were separated was the first time Oscar needed x-rays, when the technician took Etta into the other room to spare her from being irradiated. Let’s just say that we then found out that Etta really is bonding to me, as she yelled a bit like her brother.
Very long story short(ish), Oscar’s elbow was not dislocated. A pediatrician with a crazy (seriously, CRAZY) handlebar mustache with curlicues all over the place (like this, but even more bizarre, if possible . . . )
said he thought it was broken, but that the x-ray was not conclusive. Then we had more x-rays, then more indecision. Finally, at 3:00 am they put a splint on Oscar’s arm, discharged him and we went to the car, where my little guy said one word. Cookie. Oy. So, we got in the car and started driving until I found a McDonald’s where I promptly purchased a cookie, which he bit into, dropped and ignored.
We went to the orthopedic surgeon two days later, and I was certain she was going to tell me that his arm was fine. He was, by then, running like a maniac around the house. Instead, we sat down and she showed me his x-rays and said that his arm was clearly broken in two spots. They slapped a cast on him from the tips of his fingers to right up to his armpit and that was that. We return tomorrow to get the first cast off and to talk to someone about whether he’ll need surgery. Then they’re going to put him in another cast thingy and a special sling for another month or longer. It’s all a lot of fun.
Aside from that, we’ve been busy boxing up our lives for our upcoming move. I have the keys to the new house, which I explored yesterday afternoon with the kids. Etta was very excited by her introduction to carpeting, and Oscar was just happy to have something new to run around in. He seemed particularly excited about his new playroom, A/K/A the garage.
The house really is quite cute, but each time I go there, I come home to our current house with a renewed desire / appreciation of the need to jettison our belongings. It’s a very small house. So far, I’ve done pretty well. I have half of the garage filled with stuff for the G00dwill truck that is coming next week. I’m basically getting rid of a fully equipped one-bedroom apartment and entire wardrobes for a fatty and an infant boy. Someone is going to be very lucky.
I have a bit of a dilemma. The new house has three bedrooms. Two are decent sized and the other is 11.5′ x 11.5′, which I guess is sort of small. It would be totally mean of me to put Nanny Norma in the smaller bedroom, right? All three have marble bathrooms, with jetted tubs, but it is a small room. Oscar will sleep in my room, so the other bedroom is really for Etta’s crib, the kids’ dresser, changing table and rocking chair. There really wouldn’t be much room to play. The other bedroom would provide room for the kids to play inside, but that would relegate Norma to the little room.
Aside from having a bit of play room for the kids upstairs, there is one other reason I’ve been considering putting Norma into the smaller room. Norma always closes her bedroom door. I don’t blame her. If I were living with freaks like us, I would, too. But, the other bedroom is at the top of the stairs, and the staircase is open to the landing. I *hate* closed doors in a house. I don’t know why, but I just do. It wouldn’t bother me as much if it were a room in a corner somewhere I wouldn’t have to see, but walking into a house and seeing a closed door would make me crazy. See, I said we were freaks. I’ll have to think about this some more.
In the meantime, here are pics from our outing yesterday. Oscar is sporting a camo cast cover (all the rage with the cool kids these days) and Etta is modeling a crocheted headband by the Rosey Posey. Sorry for the lousy pics of the big guy, but he doesn’t really slow down enough these days for the paparazzi.
Time Flies
Can you believe it’s already been a month since Etta and I met? We’re slowly, but surely getting ourselves into a routine around here. Oscar no longer loses his cool each time his sister wakes up in the night (which thankfully is not often), and despite the fact that her chest rattle is still pronounced, he appears to ignore it now. It’s become similar to the noise of the cars passing by the house, I guess. I notice it more than he does, actually, especially when I listen to the two of them right after they fall asleep each night. I’m not sure who is louder, Oscar with his snoring or Etta with her raspy breathing. Together, in stereo, they have moved me to use my headphones when I watch television on my laptop at night, just to tune them out a little.
I broke down this weekend and admitted that I was going to have to make some adjustments if we were ever going to leave the house again. I’ve managed to figure out how to get us into the car easily, and car rides have been our outing of choice the past two weekends. Both kids seem to love them, and it’s a sure-fire way of getting them to nap. I’ve also figured out how to get us through a shopping trip at Targ3t. Sadly, though, if we are to do anything other than drive to and from Targ3t on the weekend, changes need to be made.
First, I bought a new child carrier. I managed to wreck my back the other day by lifting a tiny little book. That’s how old I am. Wearing Etta in her sling is no longer an option, so I got one of those ergonomic carriers, but without all that extra padding, etc. Not too hideous, I think.
I also bit the bullet and bought a double stroller. Given our car situation, obviously, any double stroller will be used solely at home (parks, etc.). Hence the need for the more usable baby carrier – I can carry Etta and push Oscar if I’m ever brave enough to head to the zoo – I’m psyching myself up for that this coming weekend). Since we’re about to move to a neighborhood that is far more stroller-friendly, though, I figured I’d try to help Norma’s knee by getting a stroller so she doesn’t have to wear anyone.
I’ve clearly been avoiding making this purchase. I’m not entirely sure why. Maybe it’s because double strollers are so incredibly expensive. Maybe it’s the fact I worry that Oscar is not going to let me push him in a stroller much longer. Maybe it’s because there’s some negative link in my brain to owning one (although I’m not sure what it could be other than their ugliness). Whatever the reason, I am the proud new owner of this:
It very well may be the largest stroller ever made, but for whatever reason, it’s the only double stroller that I like (and since this is last year’s color, I’m saving 34%, and you know I love a sale). I’m just hoping that Nanny Norma is big enough to see over it while pushing. The picture above really doesn’t give you the sense of just how big this thing is. You know you’re in trouble when the manufacturer posts a picture with a notation in bold that this product “fits through standard doors.”
Thinking through all of this, it occurs to me that one of the reasons I’ve held off on this purchase is that pushing a double stroller really announces to the world that I am a Mom. I know, I know. I’ve been a mom for a couple of years now, but having a second child pushed me into a new level of motherhood.
Being the mom of one child was really pretty easy. We were highly portable. Our equipment was minimal. We threw our tiny little Quinny stroller into our tiny little Mini and were on our way. If people saw us, they’d see a woman with a small child out and about. Now, there is nothing easy or portable about us. When people see us, they see a harried woman with two small children, one draped on her and the other either screaming on the ground or in a cart or stroller. Pushing the gargantuan monstrosity that is this particular stroller (weighing ~80 pounds all in with both kids sitting in it), I am far more visible than I had been before. I am also no longer a woman with a child. I’ve become a mom with two young kids. Somehow when my children outnumbered me, I lost my status as just a woman and became a mom instead.
When we’re out, I no longer get little smiles from other moms or remarks about Oscar’s cuteness. I get comments like “you’ve really got your arms full.” I get offers of assistance. Pitying glances. Acknowledgements that I do not appear to be capable of handling things on my own. Somehow this stroller makes all of that even more real. Buying it made me worry that the next step in my evolution as a mom will be to purchase a station wagon (a Volvo cross country, naturally; likely in navy). See, I’ve already taken the first step mentally.
When I was planning on having a second child, none of this really occurred to me. Clearly, I thought about the fact that life would be more difficult. That it would be much more challenging to simply get out the door. I never thought about the way people would see me, though. Or, more accurately, the way I would respond to the way people appear to view me. Actually, maybe what is challenging is not the way other people see me, but the way I see myself? I’ll have to think about that a little. Is this why people say that moving from one to two children was far more difficult than simply becoming a mom?
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Etta’s Hats
Where I’ve Been
