entirely too much ado about poo

Let’s take a break from toddlers and mom stuff and instead try to remember that we also own five animals. Two dogs, three cats. The spring is a pain in the you know where because winter coats? They don’t stay on.

Current fur level set to: Explosive molting.

Anyhow, Tim had the lovely task of carting four of our five (one of the dogs stayed home) fur children to the vet on Saturday, brave soul that he is. The vet tech told him we were crazy, bringing them all in at once.

This is probably true.

Here they are…top left is Alegre, hiding. Below Alegre is Chloe (back) and Gracie in front, and Maddie, the lone canine in the group.

But that is just how it happened to work out. They were all due for shots and what’s a wife to do when she also has a busy, does not want to sit still – EVER, 16 month old?

She packs up the animals, writes a list of questions for the vet on a pad and sends her husband with uplifting parting words all, “It’ll be fine! Good luck and don’t forget to get Alegre’s butt shaved and have Maddie’s anal glands expressed!”

Alegre is our oldest cat and for some reason, her butt is shaped like an extruder instead of….whatever shape a normal cat butt looks like so poo comes out and doesn’t stick to the sides (gag). The solution to keep that “area” sanitary is to have it furless. You’ll see in a minute why we don’t dare attempt that kind up close encounter with her rear end.

And our golden retriever, Maddie, has had issues with her butt (read: every time she poops, it’s a runny, mucous covered alien. Excuse me while I gag).

This issue will not go away.

Our new vet that we recently switched to, heard all of her symptoms and thinks she may have hypothyroidism. If her bloodwork comes back showing that, it could solve a myriad of problems along with the poo (unexplained weight gain, always sad/low energy, hip joint issues, etc).

Hear me, people: I don’t care if the bloodwork comes back showing an invasion of tiny leprechauns parading around inside her body. If this vet can fix this issue that has been going on for YEARS, I’ll sing the hallelujah chorus wearing a fedora.

We have tried everything to get her poo to be normal. EVERYTHING. Obviously, something is going on that we can’t seem to fix. Lexi has zero poo issues, so it’s not the environment.

I think we find out her results this week.

So, in other news, Alegre does not like the vet. When she sees the pink carrier come out, she is on high alert that something unpleasant is about to happen.

You know when you see pictures of cats with all four paws on each corner of the carrier, absolutely refusing to go inside, and you think, “Nah…that doesn’t really happen…”

Oh, I can assure you it does.

And she made certain to let everyone know just how dissatisfied she was when Tim had them take her back to shave her butt…

Apparently, Alegre’s ability to voluntarily express her anal glands with that kind of force was a first. The vet was laughing so hard telling Tim what happened that he was crying.

And then? The office manager wouldn’t give us a multi pet discount or any other kind of discount, even though 1: we spent upwards of $500 and 2: the actual techs/vets were like, “If I were in charge, I would…” which then led to this:

Moral of the story: If you’re going to have pets, be sure to get one with assitude..

dog shaming

I was just going to put this on Instagram and leave it at that, but then I thought to myself, no. This needs more attention.

**And where do you mommy blogger types find the time? Days just bleed into each other and when, exactly, am I supposed to write something coherent**

So, anyway, we have kind of started a new after dinner routine where we take Kellan for a ride in his wagon to get the mail and then we all walk to the park.

I say we all walk to the park because at the mailboxes – community ones, people. It’s why Coloradans are so healthy. Our mail is a quarter mile away – Kellan decides he wants nothing to do with the wagon and he would rather walk, holding my hand the whole time or walking short distances from Tim or me to the other person. Then we play at the park and walk home.

The whole thing takes maybe 20-30 minutes, tops.

Before yesterday, we would leave the dogs out. They had free roaming privileges around the house, because we wouldn’t be gone long.

Apparently that is not an option anymore.

Last night, when we walked into the house, we were greeted by a pile of leaves and branches from a plant.

And not just any pile. These pieces had all been meticulously placed in the family room, perfectly visible from any door we entered.

Okay, you guys. The plant? It lives in the computer room. There is a very long hallway that separates the family room from the computer room. A long hallway with an offshoot to a bathroom along with a potential detour to upstairs.

So, I beg the question, what, exactly, was the thought process, here, girls?

Let’s be honest, Maddie and Lexi. If you just wanted to destroy a plant, then I’d imagine you would sit at the plant and do that.

Why even bother going through the effort of carrying, ever so delicately, each and every piece alllllllll the way down the hallway and into the family room and drop them into a pile?

Over and over and over again?

There was not a single, solitary, leaf on the path between the plant in the computer room and the pile in the family room

When we came through the garage door and Maddie saw the look on Tim’s face, she high tailed it out into the garage, squeezing by just before the door closed automatically (it’s a heavy door that doesn’t stay open unless propped). She was so stealthy that Tim had no idea she even went out. He was so busy trying to get to Lexi, he was certain Maddie was with her until I was all, “She’s in the garage.”

And that she was, hiding behind the cars.

After Tim got her back inside, she ran upstairs and tried to hide in the bedroom.

Obviously, she was well aware she had made an error with her choices while we were gone.

Lexi, thinking she was off scott free, played dumb like, “I was so good! That mess definitely wasn’t me!”

And then we checked her mouth and it was full of dirt.

That little giveaway resulted in her immediately rolling over onto her back, legs in the air, full on submission.

I’m guessing their brains went something like, “Um. Hello? You’re supposed to take me with you. And you didn’t. So, now I’m stuck here while you’re out there in nature. You know what else is nature? This plant right here. And I’m gonna take pieces of this plant and put allllll of the nature in a big ass pile so you see what I’m talking about when you get home. You go into nature, YOU TAKE ME WITH YOU.”

The sign says: We were mad mommy and daddy went for a walk without us, so we had the gall to destroy the plant and put it in the family room. I’m sure mommy and daddy got the message. Maddie & Lexi

The best part? As Tim was giving the dogs the what for, half laughing, Kellan was sitting in the kitchen, yelling like a backseat driver as many dog commands as he could remember, “Yesth! Sit! Yesth! Out! Stay! Sit!”

sold a bag of…beans

I had dinner at a friend’s house the other night. It was just Kellan and me, along with my friend, her husband and their kid, who is about 6-7 months older than Kellan.

None of that is really all that important to the story, other than to know that we were all there together and that my friend is just as type A as me. Also, she does not like messes. AT ALL. I cannot stress that enough. NO MESS or else she goes crazy.

Kellan is a super messy eater. I mean, a bib is a requirement or else a full on outfit change will be needed. Sometimes a bib cannot even contain the mess and we have to put on a new outfit despite our best efforts. I have found a pea inside of his belly button and cheese in his diaper, and yogurt dries on body parts like cement – FYI.

My friend’s child takes after her mother. The bib? Just for decoration. If a teeny tiny spill happens, the kid will not stop talking about it until they can clean it up. They as in the child.

During dinner, their kid did not hesitate to point out all the bits and pieces and giant chunks of food that Kellan had dropped thrown onto the floor.

We had lasagna, so you can imagine what that was like for He Who Has Never Eaten Lasagna…look at all the layers. of. fun!

It was really good lasagna, so I have no idea why Kellan thought it was better on the floor…oh. Wait. Food is not just for eating when you’re a child. I am not sure when the switch happens in your brain that says DO NOT WASTE versus the one that’s all, “Hey! Neat! Did you hear the noise that noodle made when it hit the floor?! I wonder what broccoli sounds like?” The second one sounds like it would be way more fun, actually.

After dinner and the hose down of Kellan and a three foot perimeter around his high chair – which wouldn’t have been *that* messy, except….when my friend asked if I could bring his high chair, I was really proud of myself for remembering to put it in the car. And then when we sat down to eat, I went to grab the tray that attaches to the….oh. The tray. That is still at my house. The thing that contains a lot of the mess. Yah. Forgot it.

So, right. After dinner, my friend’s husband started showing me all of these tiny tomato plants that he was growing. When I say tiny I mean each was a little dirt ball had one thin, frail green shoot poking out. The dirt was in the form of a tiny pot…except without the actual pot. I’m not really sure how that all works but it is an important detail to remember: press formed dirt, no walls to contain it.

My friend is not fond of these plants because apparently they take over the house every spring and are dead before summer is over.

He had nine of the tomato plants on a plate that he had placed on a window sill behind their couch in the family room. I wasn’t paying any attention to them, really. My friend had left the room for a minute and I was sitting on the floor, also in the family room, playing with Kellan.

And then it happened.

Friend’s husband, who was sitting on the couch, picked up the plate of tiny plants – without pots – and started looking at them and then proudly holding them up, as if on display, all, “I have nine of these. I plan on sharing them with….”

He never got the rest out. It’s like all of a sudden one of those dirt pods realized it no longer had to confirm to its shape and it was all, “FREEDOM!”

And then it spontaneously combusted.

He looked up at me, frozen, still holding the plate, like “What. Just. Happened?”

I started laughing all, “Guess you only have eight to share, now.”

That must have jump started his brain because he quickly started picking pieces of dirt off of himself and the couch, saying “don’t tell her! I don’t want to get in trouble!”

My friend comes back and joins us at about that time and I tried to stop laughing and keep the secret. I really did.

But…seeing her sit on the floor with me, her back to ‘the incident’ – completely oblivious to her husband behind us, frantically picking up dirt, trying to be discrete at the same time, was too much.

I lost it. I was laughing without being able to explain why while my friend is staring at me all, “What is so funny?”

Finally, her husband fessed up and told her he made a mess, because I was unable to contain myself.

Sorry about that, husband to the type A wife. I tried.

Then, as I was leaving, I am treated to a story about beans. Apparently, during a recent Whole Foods shopping trip, friend’s husband decided he wanted a bag of a 15-bean mix from the bulk department. You know, the self serve section where you control the amount of product you buy?

Except, he had a slight issue with that concept and ended up with waaaaaay too many beans. So many beans he had a third of a gallon ziplock bag full leftover that he had no idea what to do with.

So, what’s a man to do who had already offered me bean soup with dinner (I thought he was joking) and whose wife had tisk-tisked the fact that they bought entirely too many beans and what are we going to do with all of these?!

I’ll give them away, he says.

As I was handed leftover lasagna to go, I also had a bag of beans shoved into my arms while I’m told of a great 15 bean soup to make and the husband saying, “See? I told you we’d get rid of them!”

Way to sell it, buddy. I’m super excited about this bag of beans, now.

My friend chimes in all, “Yah! I’ll send you the recipe! You can even put a ham cock in it!”

A……what?

I look at her and then look at her husband, who is looking at me like another plant pod had just exploded.

“Ham hock, honey. It’s ham HOCK.”

*****
And a footnote: I text her later all, “I was laughing about the ham cock all the way home.”

Her response?

Yah…I guess I don’t know my meat.

hula hooping

Guess what I dod this past weekend?

I totally hula hopped in Babies R Us.

While I was shopping for a myriad of things, Kellan and Tim were busy looking ridiculously cute doing this:

And then I saw them.

The hula hoops.

And they were just begging to be hulaed, you guys.

I used to be an excellent hula hooper….when I was probably seven.

I didn’t let that little fact and giant span of time stop me. I whipped one out and started trying to hula hoop in the middle of an aisle. Over and over and over. Hula hula hula…down to the floor. Hula hula…floor. Hula. Floor. Hula. Floor.

Kellan was staring up at me like whhhaaat are you doing??

Tim was all, “Judging by your face, that looks painful.”

Me, between attempts: It’s not painful! I’m concentrating!

Tim: Exactly.

End scene.

PS: I have zero hesitation to embarrass myself – and everyone around me – when there is a goal I want to accomplish. And yes, I did finally get the hip action rhythm down and successfully hula hoop.

PPS: If you want an amazing and cheap abdominal workout – buy a hula hoop. I guarantee you’ll feel it for days.

PPPS: Vote? Here is the link to his picture.

the grocery store takes on a whole new meaning with a kid

There are many, many, mannnnnny things that now make sense to me pre-child that are now crystal clear.

Like when I’m all, “Nobody touch me for five minutes! Including you, animals! I’m touched out. I’ve reached my maximum touchability. No more touching!”

Or how I told Tim the other day that the reason I think I’m so tired is because I am no longer able to zone out, Earth to Jessica style. I’m always ON. On on on on on. On.

The other day at the grocery store, I was pretty much running up and down the aisles, trying to get everything on my list. Kellan was ready to go and though he wasn’t crying, the urgency in his vocalizations and his throwing everything – toys, snacks, sippy cup, apple we had yet to purchase – out of the cart was enough to signal to me that the happy time meter was just about up.

Now, I always have to make a list when I buy groceries. Well, technically, this is nothing new. I’ve always made a list…who can remember a weeks worth of food plus weird random ingredients for a new recipe and household items?

If you’re all, Uh, ME. I can,” then you A: probably don’t have kids and/or B: may want to call somebody who tracks that kind of talent. You’d be a hot commodity.

Anyhow. Pre-Kellan, I would usually have the mental wherewithal to remember a few things not on the list that I had forgotten to write down.

Now?

If it isn’t on the list, it isn’t happening.

My brain is only partially paying attention to what I’m supposed to be grabbing off the shelf and mostly trying to make sure I pick up what Kellan decides should be on the ground, feed him a snack, oh, here, have some water…no? Well, here’s your toy…look! Balloon! You’re right!…No, we cannot grab glass jars from the shelf…wait. I forgot baby yogurt…Yes! A balloon again!….Here, have another cracker…please don’t throw the cracker on the ground…where did your toy go…why is your shirt wet?…Yes! Balloon!…I don’t know why the store puts balloons everywhere, either…what are we waving at?…oh! hiiiii giant stuffed animal on top of the dairy coolers (??)…what am I looking for again?….Your water? Ok, here it is….Where was I?…Right! Where is the yogurt…

And while all of that was happening, I overheard a mom who was wrangling her two kids say, “Just wait! Stop. Let me think for a minute.”

Before Kellan? I would have thought she was coo-coo.

Now?…I totally underst….where is your sock?…here, try playing with this….hi, balloon!…where is that damn yogurt?….

a day in the life…

First? Happy 13 months, Kellan!!

Second?…..This:

Scene: Tim reading to Kellan on the bedroom floor, me on the bed, supervising.

Tim: A cow says moo. A sheep ::yawn:: A sheep says ::yaaaawwwwn:: A sheep says baa. Three ::yaaaaaawwwwwnnnnn::

Me: Can you not read without yawning?!?

Tim: Um, no. You know that. It’s a psychological problem.

Well, ok then.

****

Me: Kellan needs pants and socks and a sweater.

Tim: Did you lay them out?

Me: No. Just pick something. I have to go to the bathroom.

The next sounds I hear:

Drawer open, close.

Drawer open, close.

Tim, yelling from Kellan’s room while I am *trying* to pee in peace: Where are his pants?

Me, yelling back from the bathroom with the door open because I don’t even bother closing it anymore: Bottom right drawer…..

A minute goes by….

Tim: What sweater?

Me: Just pick one! Hell, have Kellan pick one!

I wash my hands, leave the bathroom, and find them downstairs, playing.

Tim looks at me, smiling, proud of himself for successfully dressing Kellan, and then…he sees my face.

He takes a second look. Sweater. Check. Pants. Check…and then it hits him.

He realizes why my face looks slightly perplexed.

Tim: I forgot the socks.

the starry lights penguin, wait-and-sneeze technique.

Kellan is sick.

Again.

I can’t even…I just…really? REALLY?!

REALLY?!?!?!!!

If you have any homeopathic, natural, grandma remedies for severe nasal congestion that is baby friendly, hit me with it. All of it. I’m desperate.

Des-per-ate.

I was awake at 10:30pm, 1:00am, 2, 3:15, 4:15, and finally 7:30, with a child who could. not. breathe.

We did all of our cold congestion relief steps, including a new one: eucalyptus oil in the water during the steam treatment (shower with hot water, closed door, etc).

Nothing seemed to help.

It was so bad, I had to sit him up in bed and bust out this bad boy – our starry lights projected on the ceiling penguin to distract Kellan (Tim’s idea, which worked) because he would just start crying and crying, completely distraught at the fact that he could not breathe, and, therefore, could not do his favorite comfort activity: nurse.

So, I would sit him up and turn on the penguin, which was immediately met with lots of over exuberant “whoas!” from Kellan (really, kid? At 2am?) along with him trying to say “stars” while I would wait for him to sneeze so I could wipe away the snot.

Also? Kellan is currently in an argument with the nasal aspirator, so using that without a severe meltdown isn’t an option. After the first few times, I didn’t really want to deal with another round of screaming, head turning, pushing everything away, tears and that really pitiful I-can’t-catch-my-breath cry, especially at two in the morning, which is why we went with the starry lights penguin, wait-and-sneeze technique.

At 4-whatever-time, Tim took Kellan into the bathroom for round two of the eucalyptus steam treatment while I tried to sleep a little before Tim brought him back to me for food train (our phrase for nursing) and sleep.

That got us to 7:30.

And now I’m trying to think of and do anything within the realm of possible to ensure tonight is way less snotty and sleep disruptive for everybody.

I’m tired, universe. I’m tired and I probably have lots of run-on sentences and everyone is over hearing about my oh woe is me problems.

All I want is one weekend that is illness free.

Is that really so much to ask?

Now, your turn: cold remedies.

Annnnnd go!

very funny, universe

So, remember how in my last post I was just DONE with sickness?

Hahaha universe. You’re so funny.

Turns out it was MY TURN last week, thank you migraine so awful I puked to the point of dry heaving and then a super terrible cold that lasted all weekend.

Migraines are the worst. I would never wish one on my worst enemy. In my WHY ME research, I learned that I’m part of the “lucky” one third of people who actually puke, versus just get nauseous, during a migraine.

Twirly fingers in the air.

Ok. I’m not going to talk about sickness anymore because I’m not about to anger the headache snot gods again.

Instead?

Go check out a pretty hilarious (I think), albeit true, post I wrote for What to Expect about baby milestones. Hint: friend?…or foe?

Let me know what you think, too!…if you don’t mind.

Mind you, my post went live on Valentine’s Day, but I was just informed it was there yesterday, so….my apologies on the tardiness of my relaying of said information.

Anyhow, Kellan and I are off on a secret mission today. More news about that….soon.

it’s the giant diarrhea poo that gets you

We have had a ridiculous amount of sickness in our house this year.

And I don’t like it.

I’m not used to being sick or getting sick or dealing with SICK.

Tim pretty much has to have a 104 degree fever before I relent and become sympathetic. I know. My sympathy bone isn’t very strong. It’s a work in progress.

When it comes to Kellan being sick, I’m always sympathetic and patient and all the things a mom should be (snot rag, barf catcher, all night nurse). It’s kind of disgusting to be able to add being both thrown up on and pooped on to my list of life achievements, but there it is.

The thing that took me by surprise the most is that when those things happen, I’m not grossed out. It’s like that queasy, gag reflex, freak out reaction gets put into a closet in my brain and I just go to work and do whatever needs to be done. And here’s the kicker – I do it in a completely calm state. I don’t even think about the actual reality that is warm barf running down my arms.

I guess that’s what happens when you become a mom. I would end that sentence with a question mark but there really is no point in doing so. That IS what happens. At least in my case.

Since the winter started, we (as in Kellan) have had probably three colds, two (possibly three…one kind of stopped and re-started with a few days respite in between) stomach bugs, a random virus that came with a fever and then turned into a cold, and herpangina. And probably a few other things I can’t remember.

O.M.G.

I don’t think I’ve had that much sickness in my entire life.

The h-e-double hockey sticks?!

Suffice all of this sickness to say, I’ve learned how to decontaminate. And how to get at least a few hours of sleep with a kid-turned-snot-factory.

Our routine for colds goes something like this:

Constant-on cool mist humidifier in the room where he sleeps.

Roll up towels to elevate the top part of the bed to allow gravity to assist in the snot drainage.

Bulb syringe snot evacuation and then squirt saline spray in his nose throughout the day.

At night, Tim turns the shower on as hot as it will go and sits in the bathroom with Kellan for fifteen or so minutes, with a towel blocking the crack under the door to keep it as steamy as possible. Then he takes a bath in the steamed room to give him extra steam time.

Post bath it’s more bulb syringe time (we tried Nose Frida…didn’t work as well/Kellan freaked out). Saline spray. Baby Vicks on his feet and then cover with socks. Keep the humidifier going and if he seems like he is in pain, Tylenol.

I really think colds are the worst. When Kellan can’t breathe, he wakes up AT ALL HOURS. If he has a stomach bug, at least he sleeps….until his stomach starts hurting and he wakes up crying and then takes the most giant, smelly diarrhea poo that no diaper will ever – ever – possibly contain, so much so that the poo has defied gravity and traveled all the way up to his neck in the span of the five seconds it takes you to realize what is happening and pick him up. So, now, we both require a complete outfit change and a bedding swap out and by the time everything is all said and done, everyone is wide awake and probably needs a shower. At 2am.

Oy.

dear kellan: one year!

One year ago you and I we were confused and scared and wet and cold…or maybe it was just you who was wet and cold. I was actually about to pass out, thank you super long labor (12am Sunday morning to 6:37pm Sunday night) meds and no food for over twenty four hours. We have come a looooong way, you and me and daddy, in this past year. Who knew that our tiny little boy would become this vibrant baby with a sense of humor and strong personality in such a short time.

The other day, we were watching Alice in Wonderland for research purposes for your birthday (the Mad Hatter’s Tea Party). There is this part where she is singing in forest and all the animals (well, the things that are supposed to be animals) begin coming out and watching her sing. There is this duck that looks more like a horn on a bike. She has baby horn ducks and as they creep out of the bushes, one of the baby ducks ventures out in front of his mom and then he realizes how far away he is and turns around and runs back to his mom, hiding behind her back and then peeking up carefully from his protected position. That made me think of you and your clinginess. And it all made sense. You and that baby duck are one in the same.

All of the things you have been trying to do this month makes the clinginess even more pronounced. You have found your walking legs, though you still need us to hold your hands, and you want to walk everywhere. It seemed to start right at the beginning of the month when we when to the park with a friend (1/19) and you decided that you wanted to walk up and down the stairs on the playground and everywhere in between. Now, you want to walk up and down the stairs in the house, which is funny, because you take these huuuuge steps to try and walk up each step like we do, one foot and then the other, step after step. It is funny your legs are long enough to accomplish such a feat!

This month has been busy, for sure, but I feel like I say that every month. I guess we just like to do stuff – which is a good thing. You seem to love going places and experiencing everything. You have always been such an expressive child and your likes and dislikes come out more and more as each day passes. One of your funniest moments to date was when we were grocery shopping (1/21) and you somehow managed to get your Sophie teething giraffe underneath you and kept bouncing up and down, squeaking it, over and over and over. I finally clued in as to what was happening and took a video of it and sent it to America’s Funniest Videos. The whole exchange was hysterical. Not only had you made up your own game, but you answered my questions about Sophie (Where is Sophie? Sit! Can you squeak her? Yes!)

And then, as if I needed another example of your silliness, we went to breakfast with a friend a few days later (1/24), sans daddy (for both moms). I was holding you in the booth and then sat you down next to me for a minute so I could do something (who knows what it was, there was so much commotion with three kids and two moms and ordering food…). Then, when I picked you up to sit in my lap again, you didn’t have any pants on.

HOW????

I looked at my friend like, “Um. Kellan took off his pants.”

Never a day goes by where you don’t crack us up. It is one of my favorite things about you…your ability to make us laugh, no matter what is going on.

So, let us talk about sleep for a second, shall we?

After a YEAR of me having no idea what kind of schedule you were trying to create when it came to naps and sleep, something happened, finally (1/25)!!

A pattern!

You now like to nap “around” 8am and 12pm for varied lengths of time and then bedtime is 6pm. Our bath routine is apparently really important, too, as that signals bedtime for you in a big, big way. If, for some reason, there isn’t a bath, it is really hard to get you to go to bed. We also have this thing where daddy takes you up to the bath to fill the tub and get you ready while I put out all the post-bath stuff. Then, I (still) get in the tub with you and daddy washes you and then he also does all of the post-bath stuff (diaper cream, lotion, etc). I lay down in bed to get ready to nurse you. Daddy lays you down and you wait for him to give you a kiss and say goodnight and then you nurse…and sleep.

If *I* try to do the daddy part of the routine?

Tears, usually.

I had no idea that the order of activity (and the person doing it) was so ingrained in your mind. It is kind of interesting to see it, though. It gives me insight on how you are and what you like. It helps me. So, thank you.

We went to San Diego for my birthday for a long weekend, and even though our nap routine was kind of scattered, we still did a bath with you every night, which really helped. You slept like a rock while we were there. You may have woken up once during the night, but that was it. I’m sure all of the activity during the day really wore you out. We went to the zoo and the beach and your favorite, favorite, favorite thing of the whole trip?

Concrete barriers to keep cars off the boardwalk.

I’m serious.

You went bananas over those things, “Touch! Touch! Touch!” every time we passed them.

It is nice you have a decent vocabulary, though, so we can communicate and understand what it is you want or need. You do have a word for everything you don’t know how to say. It’s “bup.” You do this hand thing that isn’t really pointing with a finger but more of an entitled wave thing that says “that, mummy, over there…yes, do kindly bring it to me.”

Anyhow, the day after we got home from San Diego, you had a horrible, horrible time sleeping. You would try to nurse but wouldn’t because you were in pain (that I thought was from teething), so you would just hold onto the boob and then fall back asleep. It was pitiful and sad. Turns out, it wasn’t just teething. You ended up getting really sick (2/6) and we had to take you to the ER (again) because you weren’t eating or drinking or nursing, which meant you weren’t peeing, though you had watery diarrhea that smelled like WHOA.

All of that meant you were getting dehydrated – hence ER visit.

Turns out, you had herpangina, which were these really awful blisters in the back of your throat, which was why you weren’t nursing. Apparently you probably got it in San Diego, since it lives in warmer climates and isn’t common in Colorado in the winter. I was kind of thinking I had the same thing, since I had been feeling blah, too, and my throat was killing me. I cannot even imagine how you felt.

Thanks, San Diego. Well, really, thanks airplanes and airports.

We went back to the ER again the next day (2/7) because you were still having diarrhea AND throwing up AND you weren’t drinking much of anything.

You were fine, though we were there for FOREVER because A: you were ok and B: they had a few super sick kiddos come in and they kind of forgot we were there. I mean, I totally understand but you were not very happy. You decided to pick your nose for the first time as we said goodbye to the doctor…pulled out a nasty long booger, too. I guess that was your, “I’ve wanted to leave for AN HOUR, this one’s for you” send off because you haven’t done it since.

Again with the sense of humor…

Granted, mommy and daddy were ready to get out, too.

And then? The next day?

I texted Tim around three in the morning, asking him if he was throwing up because I heard him go to the bathroom and I had been laying in bed, feeling awful and feverish and super, super sick. Turns out, he was throwing up and we were both feverish and sick. That whole weekend was terrible. I pretty much tried to lay in bed and keep the TV on to entertain you while Tim camped out in the bathroom, emptying the contents of everything.

I hope that never, ever happens again, the entire family sick and unable to do anything but basically survive. I am slightly thankful that you weren’t feeling 100%, because it meant you didn’t want to eat regular food or move around much, which was perfect for me.

We even decided to reschedule your birthday because we were all still in recovery mode. So, we will celebrate on March 9 with all of your friends.

No worries, though, we still had a little birthday celebration with you on your birthday with your Mimi, who came to see you for your birthday weekend (2/15-2/19). You had so much fun with her! I was worried that you would be a little apprehensive, since you had been so clingy, but you two got along like old pals. It was really cute to watch you two interact and play. She brought you books, too, and you love them! Your love and desire for reading is incredible! We read stories all the time. You could probably read stories all day long. Well, intermixed with watching Winnie the Pooh. You ask to watch it, now, by doing your hand wave thing at the TV. There is a part where a red balloon comes into the picture and you start saying “baba! baba!” in the scene right before the balloon one. That blows our minds! You anticipate!

I’m just going to do a quick run down of some of the other things that happened this month, since it seems like the older you get, the more things you accomplish in such a short time!

2/13: You pulled a pillow over your head to nurse and fell asleep like that for your afternoon nap. It was pretty funny.

2/15: You pulled up using the Zany Zoo. This was the first time you actually pulled up from a sitting position! Yay! You started doing it from my lap and I slowly moved my legs away so you would pull up and then sit down on the floor. You did this over and over and over and over! You actually started whining while pulling up. I’m guessing your legs were getting tired. You didn’t stop, though. I guess you really wanted to practice your new skill.

2/15: You have gone from gagging on everything you put into your mouth to shoving half a strawberry in your maw and handling it with no problem. Strawberries are your current favorite food, by the way. That and toast with cinnamon and butter for breakfast.

2/19: Your birthday “day” was jam packed! We had breakfast (a waffle with a “1″ candle in it), opened Mimi’s present to you, took Mimi to the airport to go home, went to Big Daddy Bagels for second breakfast, did your cake smash picture (you didn’t really smash it though) and ONE pictures, FaceTimed with Nonni and Papa, did a wagon ride around the neighborhood in your wagon from Nonni and Papa, went to Grandrabbits so you could pick out your birthday present (out of allllllllll the toys, you immediately picked out a green ball – of course. Balls are your favorite), had dinner at Which Wich (an employee came over and talked to us and found out it was your birthday and made you a free cookie – which you loved – and a fruit roll up, which I didn’t give you), came home and opened MORE presents from your cousins and aunts and uncles, watched Winnie the Pooh and finally, took a picture of you next to the clock at the time you were both (6:37pm). You pretty much crashed after that, as did mommy and daddy.

I’m not sure if you’ll be walking by yourself by the time I write your next letter, but even if you aren’t, it’s ok. My back can probably handle another month (I kid, I kid).

You are the most amazing, wonderful, happy person in the whole wide world. I have no idea what your daddy and I did before you came about. You bring so much life and meaning and joy to us, every day, every minute. You even bring joy to others. Everywhere we go – and I mean EVERYWHERE – someone will stop us and say how cute you are. You bring smiles to faces of complete strangers. I’m not even sure if you realize how much that means, but it means a lot to be able to brighten someone’s day with a smile or with your cute curly hair. We are so, so hoping it stays curly…but if not, you’ll still be the cutest kid ever.

I love you so, so much, my little helpless baby who is quickly turning into an independent toddler!

mommy