Wednesday, December 26, 2007

Quarantined Christmas, Part II

It totally looks like Toys R Us vomited in our living room. Y'all will probably have an elevated lead level just from looking at these pictures. But, here's the rest of our quiet Christmas Day.
Look at all our trash! We would normally recycle all the paper and cardboard (which is paper, duh), but our recycle bin is crammed full, and the city won't collect anything not in the bin-- bottom line-- we need a bigger bin-- I am going to call about it today. I got new planner to put these important kinds of calls in. It's pink, which is scary and exciting for me, since I have carried the exact same red planner since 2004 (well, I get a new one every year, but you get the idea). So 2008 is pink-- lots of changes this year. And yeah-- it took a new planner for me to predict that, not the impending birth of our second son.

Just like Hop on Pop says: "DAY PLAY. We play all day." Unlike the corresponding page, we did not fight all night. Instead, we watched one of the movies from Ben's stocking and passed out in a pile of chocolate santas.

We definitely wore our jammies all day. A couple of times, Harry lifted his shirt and asked "Dessed?" But we assured him he didn't have to get dressed- which seemed to bother him. Maybe he is just naturally cleaner than we are.

Here's me and my big belly. Also our gifts piled on the kitchen table-- not because we didn't like them but because a certain someone with chocolate fingers kept touching them. He totally stole Ocean's 13 and my new Britney CD (Shut up. I love her) and squirreled them away in his tent, And since piling things on the table is our main method of impromptu Harry-proofing, what are we going to do when he can REACH the table?

So, Harry's tent. We got it partially because we thought he'd like it and partially because we thought it would look cute on Christmas morning holding all his hard-to-wraps. Harry lurves the tent, but all he wants to do is cram stuff in it, throw himself inside, nd scream for us to close the flaps ("COSE"). Then he sits inside for an awkwardly long time. He gets out by standing up and walking until the velcro pops open. Then he waits a few minutes and repeats the whole thing. Seriously, his constant requests for "Bup?" are being replaced by demands of "COSE."

Finally, around 7, we let Harry get "dessed" in pajamas. Here he is after bath, snicker snicker.

We're still sick, and I am calling the doctor today for me and Harry. Also, I now have a throbbing pain in my jaw, which I hope is somehow related to my cold and not a tooth issue because seriously? A toothache, too? Not cool.

Tuesday, December 25, 2007

Quarantined Christmas

On Christmas Eve, we planned on going to an interactive children's service at the crunchy granola hippy Unitarian church we like, but we stopped at Starbucks on the way and realized we were way too sick to be spreading our kind of love in public.

Instead, we came home and played with the timer on our camera.

We were so tired from the exertion that Harry had to read his own damn bedtime story. Upside down.

Then when Harry went to bed, we put out all the gifts, and we set up his cute little tent and filled it with all the crap we couldn't figure out how to wrap. Then I spent way too much time and effort trying to assemble a castle out of cardboard bricks. As you can see, the bricks almost bested me.

But I totally outsmarted them in the end-- silly bricks!

Harry didn't know what the heck to think when he woke up in the morning, even though we have been reading the Night Before Christmas every night since December 1st. We spent a bit of time right off the bat trying to explain to Harry that his hobby horse was not a mop or a guitar

He loved the Fannie May chocolate sucker he found his his stocking (and the one he found in mine, the little thief) and the mimmen he got to hang on the tree

I don't know what was going on here, but it looks intense, huh?

We made pull apart cinnamon rolls, and they spread to ridiculous heights in the oven-- here I am looking surprised and a little alarmed byt their mutant growth.

Oh. Good thing I put that castle together.

As you can tell by the heavenly beam of light, this ride-on dump truck was Harry's personal Christmas miracle. Beep, beep.

Also? The sit and spin in the perfect height for staring slack-jawed at the Disney Parade. Oh shit-- TV before 2, and it's DISNEY??

Annnnd, I have so many more pictures, BUT Blogger is the slowest ever, and I still feel completely crappy and have even less patience than usual, so I will post more later.

We were sad, of course, to spend the whole weekend alone, but it was also really sweet. This family will never just be the three of us again, you know?

Sunday, December 23, 2007

Plague Update

Saturday, pretty much all day:

Sunday, pretty much all day:

Harry? He's awesome.

Also, we frosted these and then threw them away-- way too plagued, even for us. Pretty though, huh?

Friday, December 21, 2007

Ear, Interfected Or The Projectile Vomit that Ate Christmas

Well, it's been a good run. 18 antibiotic-free months. Yesterday, however, Harry took his first dose of amoxicillin because he has his first ear infection. Also his first stomach virus. Also his first case of viral pink eye. Also his first cold of the cold and flu season. (And no, thanks, we're not total idiots-- we know the antibiotics are only for the ears. I was merely listing the myriad illnesses Harry seems to have gathered recently. Make that simultaneously.)

I have been taking him to the gym playroom while I exercise because it is too icy and generally sucky outside to use my jogging stroller, which is pretty much what I have done since Harry was born. This has been happening 5 times a week for the past 2.5 weeks-- so like 12 visits to the playroom. That's the only change we have made to his routine, and voila-- infectious disease central. I realize that the ear infection is not contagious, but the vomit and the gooey eye? VIRAL. Everyday there's a kid (not the same kid, either) in there with a wet hacking cough and a green crusty nose. A kid whose parents must not see the sign that says to leave your sick kids at home or read the playroom policies in the contract they signed to be members of said gym. A kid whose parents decide, instead, to let their sick kids infect other kids who can now infect even more kids.

Which means, yes, you guessed it, Harry will be infectious for the holidays. I asked the doctor if we could travel Sunday and Monday to spend Christmas with family. I said there would be other little kids, and I asked if Harry would be contagious and if we could go. The doctor laughed--- LAUGHED--- and said, "Oh yeah, he'll be contagious. But they're YOUR relatives..."

Ben and I bit our nails and hemmed and hawed. I mean, we have wrapped gifts to distribute. I made us all get matching sweaters. We made candy and cookies. We are ready for the holiday season, damn it, and we have been planning on-- counting on-- looking forward to spending it with family. We thought he'd probably feel and look fine by Sunday, so we could just keep quiet about the viruses he's harboring and spreading. Wash his hands a lot. Hope he and his cousin are still in the parallel play phase. And then go straight to hell for turning a joyous celebration of family into a sick-making infectafest. LIke those chicken pox parties people used to have-- but the thing about those parties? People KNEW they were bringing their kids over to get pocked.

So, we 'fessed up about virotoddler. and it looks like we'll be seeing Harry's grandparents this weekend(hopefully, fingers crossed, if Harry feels okay) still but not his great grandma or his aunt, uncle, and cousin and not all of Ben's aunts, uncles, and cousins. We are completely and totally beyond bummed about this. If we were supposed to see you on Christmas Eve and are not-- we miss you! We have presents for you! We have pink eye and the stomach flu with your name on it! (kidding).

Santa, dude, why do you keep bringing Harry and Max ear infections for Christmas? I am pretty sure Max did not ask for one last year, and I know Harry didn't ask for one this year! Is it because I keep making fun of your skeezy tobacco stained beard? Everyone knows mall Santas are not really YOU-- you would never come on duty with lunch remnants in your face hair, would you?

Here's Harry eating breakfast on Wednesday-- the last meal he really enjoyed.

I should have been able to know from this stoney expression that something was up. Another way we should have known? For like 3 days, Harry has been saying eyes, nose, and ears with increasing urgency. I thought he was just trying to converse with us by screaming out some of the words he knows, but actually, I think he was saying, "Hey guys? My nose ears and eyes feel funny. Someone needs to take me to the doctor. I can't drive myself, beep, beep damn it. "

This is where I was ready to put a picture of our vomit stained bedroom, but it was too gross. Instead, here's Harry tucked in for the night Wednesday night. Don't let his coziness fool you. It was a night of trauma. I checked on Harry before bed to find him lying motionless in his crib in a pool of vomit. I freaked out, but he way okay, just gross, so we bathed him and changed his sheets and put him in our bed while his bumpers and mattress pad and stuffed animals got washed. The saddest thing? The "on" button on his Fisher Price Rain Forest crib soother was matted with puke-- apparently, he tried to turn on this soother to go back to sleep after he got sick.

Then he projectile vomited milk all over me and the bed (Ben was miraculously spared). So here he is in pajamas #3. Moments after this happy shot, he puked all over me again, resulting in sheets #3 and PJ#4. Then, as Ben was saying good night (before retreating to the couch-- COWARD, I say-- no actually, he had an early meeting and needed a few hours of sleep), Harry coughed chunks right into Ben's mouth, so we all got to share the love. And the virus.

Here he is all snuggled down last night. (Yes, we washed the sheets). We were so freaked about him choking alone in his own vomit, that we put him straight down in our bed, cutting out the middle man crib.

Moments after we took this picture, we offered him some Tylenol for his 103 degree fever, which he politely refused (the Tylenol, not the fever). We insisted. He projectile vomited.

Conjunctivitis Cookies on a poinsettia platter, anyone?

Infected fudge peanut marshmallow clusters?

Really? Okay, then. More for me.

Thursday, December 20, 2007

25 Inches

Yeah. That's how much snow we've had this season. And of those 25 inches, NONE of it is packable snowman snow. Luckily, Ben and I just hurl chunks of ice at each other in lieu of snowballs. Luckier still, my mom gave us this:

so we are able to make a snowman anyway. Well, more of a snow mound, but he looks mannish with his manly accessories:

Any snow is good for snow angels. Actually, that's a misleading caption-- Harry wasn't making an angel. He was just floundering. I ignored his calls for help (Hep! Hep!) and took a picture instead. Tis the season!

Wednesday, December 19, 2007

Pastry Coma

Okay, not really pastries, but a bigass (technical term) bagel and a huge plate of fruit coma, anyway. I am at Panera, which is always a very productive "office" for me. On a sidenote (this whole post is a sidenote), there are several business looking people who clearly DO have their offices at Panera. WTF?

Anywho, I had an actual cup of coffee (before switching to decaf), and it's making McLovin kick like crazy. I am feeling all awake and happy and actually optimistic about my project and so excited to meet this squirmy little boy (in like 19 weeks b/c an extra week of gestation would be really convenient for me, so if he could just hang tight past 40 weeks, that'd be awesome).

At the table next to me, there's a whole group of older women having a holiday gift exchange, and they are so cute. Very pretty and well groomed and trendy in a Talbots-y kind of way-- a few of them have their jeans tucked into riding-type boots. But not skinny jeans, so a little awkward. They are talking abut their children's engagements and bitching about daughters-in-law and all the presents they had to buy for grand nephews. Very adorable.

I am just overcome wit love for Harry this morning (funny how these emotions sweep over me when I am comfortably full of carbs and coffee and he is NOT WITH ME). He is soooo excited about Christmas-- he ho ho ho's his little head off. He NOTICES which cards are new on our mantle and insists on "reading" them every morning. Today, I foolishly opened the toy closet in his room, which is the present closet, and he went batshit crazy, yelling ho ho ho and shooting in there. He unwrapped a box of Caterpillar trucks (got to stay close to my roots, ya know) before I could stop him! He's ben wearing his Santa hat all morning., and he's just so delightful. He has a cute little Santa bowl, cup, and plate set. and this morning, I gave him a bowl of Rice Krispies with bananas and told him that Santa was on the bottom of his bowl, encouraging him to eat a little so he could see Santa. He, of course, got full long before the bottom of the bowl and dumped the remaining mixture on his head-- but when he took off his "hat," he was so happy to see the big man. By far the most preshus thing he does lately is to bring me a book, climb into my lap, and say thank you before I even start reading. Love that.

And now, something I should have learned quite a few months ago DO NOT TICKLE YOUR BABY WHEN HE IS DRINKING

Tuesday, December 18, 2007

Shop Till You Drop

It's officially one week before Christmas, and all of my holiday shopping is done. AND WRAPPED! We even bought geeky jammies (and I may or may not have bought a pair of bunny slippers for myself) to wear on Christmas Eve. I even have an extra gift or two tucked away in case I forgot someone. I know. It's totally the most organized I have ever been.

We've even stuffed Harry's stockings (yeah-- I said stokcingS-- he's going to be so damn excited to find prembumps in his boops that we. could. not. stop. buying. Plus, anyone who knows me knows that I am really bad at spatial relationships-- I have no idea how much crap will actually fill a stocking. There's no way for me to eyeball it. Ask Ben-- some years, his is too heavy to hang up, and other years, the toe is barely filled. Geometry was never ever my thing. I suck at pool and flower arranging. Also at packing the car, which is a benefit, really.)

This weekend, Ben and I shopped for each other, and I got to go Harry-free. It was fun and more relaxing than shopping usually is. I was gone for 5 hours. And I turned off my phone. I got to do things I never have tme for like find the correct size instead of just grabbing something off the pile before a certain someone pops a vein in his forehead screaming for his BUP. Ben, however, had a full head of white hair by the time he was done -- well, that's an exaggeration, but you get the idea. Both of us got our presents wrapped before we came home because we know that the other is a huge snoop, and I keep obsessively hiding Ben's stocking-- which is probably going to backfire-- I am either going to forget where it is, or he's going to find it, since my hiding places get dumber and dumber. Is that a stocking in the vegetable drawer? No. It's a really big cucumber, duh.

I think Harry has had it with the shopping-- this is us at Target yesterday, where, I am proud to report, we did not buy anything stupid or any baby items, even though they were so cute.* We did buy Harry the items he'd been requesting all day-- mimmems (mittens) and ham. When your toddler goes outside and says "Brrrrrr, mimmems," while wringing his fat little hands, you need to buy some new mittens. Our keep disappearing. Also, chocolatey snacks are a shopping must.

*We rewarded ourselves for avoiding the siren song of the baby aisles by coming home and internet buying McLovin a new swing. Anybody want to buy Harry's old swing?

Sunday, December 16, 2007

Sledding Without a Sled-- Not a Metaphor

We were so excited by the first snowfall of the year (which is no longer exciting, by the way. Just huge slushy pain in the ass) that we rushed to Target to buy Harry some snow pants and some boots (or, as he so adorably calls them "boops"). What we didn't buy? A freaking sled.

Harry didn't mind

He enjoyed crawling in, walking on, and eating the snow as much as he liked "sledding."

Ben, working with very limited space and foliage, did his best Clark W. Griswald impression

And I stuck Harry in a snow bank. Good times.

Thursday, December 13, 2007

This Guy?

The one with the red cheeks who so obviously just woke up from a nap?

This guy? The one with the bare feet and the socks wadded up in front of him on the bed?

He is a conversationalist. He converses.

This morning, when he heard Ben turn off the shower, he ran into the bathroom screaming "Dada!"**

Ben said, "Harry, how are you doing, buddy?"

And Harry said, "Ummmmm, good."

It's like the first question ever that he hasn't answered with "No."

** On a side note, do you know how cold it is to shower with the bathroom door open because your toddler really likes to come say hello to you periodically and laugh at your parts and your suds? We do. It's cold.