Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Nana (nurse...Now, when I come home from work he runs into my arms with a huge grin, takes out his pacifier, points to the couch and says "nana." The man knows what he wants!)
Peeeese (please...spotty, but we hear it occasionally)
Ta-day (today...he actually spent ALL day yesterday saying "taday taday taday taday" Love it)
Pi-tee (pretty...he repeated "pi-tee Mama" when John told him that my hairtie was to make Mommy pretty)
Buu (book, with appropriate sign language)
Moe (more, with appropriate sign language)
Dat-dat (belly button...I don't know)
Key-ka (kitty kat)
Shees (1. FISHies..used to sound like "f-shee" but now he's abbreviated it to "shees"; 2. Cheese)
...and I'll add more as I remember them.
He can also point out his toes, hair, ears, eyes, nose, belly button and chin. Yay!
Sunday, November 15, 2009
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
So today I feel like a bad mom.
Nope, you don't have to comfort me and make me feel better. I know I'm NOT a bad mom, but I'm sick and therefore irrational. And I took my sick 18-month-old son to Kaiser for his 18-month checkup.
So he screamed during the height check.
And the ear check.
And the oxygen level check ATTEMPT by the teenage candy-striper.
(I dunno what her actual title WAS but she looked like she couldn't possibly be out of high school yet so I don't know how much responsibility she could possibly have.)
This is what she says to me as she tries to wrap a Band-Aid-like device around Jack's index finger:
"You need to keep him still."
[Jack struggles furiously to move as much as possible]
To me: "He's not staying still."
To Jack: "Hey, buddy! Relax. Just take a deep breath and relax, buddy, okay?"
[I am laughing to myself that this KID is trying to take my toddler through a relaxation exercise as if he's a middle-aged man in therapy.
Jack continues to cry, scream, squirm and otherwise cause a scene. Did I mention all this was occurring while we are STANDING?]
"Well, we really need to check his oxygen level. I can't get an accurate reading because he's crying. Can you get him to stop crying?"
[Ha ha ha...not while you're doing this, lady...]
I say, "He's not going to stop crying."
She says, "How will I get the reading then?"
But that's not even why I feel like a bad mom. I feel bad because he was way behind on his vaccinations and they made me feel like a complete idiot for not keeping him up-to-date. I'm not ashamed that he was behind. I wasn't that worried. He's never really out of the house or around any other kids or even adults for that matter. (Now I sound like a bad mom for keeping him locked away like a hermit, I know. He's a year and a half. C'mon.)
They ask for the vaccination card. Okay. The teenager takes it away. Another, older lady comes in asking, "These are ALL the shots he's had?!?"
"So he's going to get more, riiiiiight???" She nods her head slowly as if I need prompting for the right answer.
The doctor comes in. She is quiet and gentle with Jack. Well, as gentle as you can be with a boy that screams when the stethoscope touches his chest, nose-thingy touches his nose and ear-thingy touches his ear. How can doctors hear what's going on with a kid when they're practically yelling INTO the stethoscope?
She tells me that Jack's way behind on shots. [Sigh. A nearly-empty immunization card must scream ignorance, stupidity or mental handicap.] She says that we can get him all caught up today. For free.
I panic inside, thinking about all the bad things that everyone who likes to do things naturally says about vaccines.
You'll only be able to walk backwards.
I think about all the bad things that everyone who does things traditionally says about not getting vaccines.
The big, bad diseases are coming back because of people like you, you bra-less, hairy-armpitted, hippie herb taker you.
The big, bad evil, flu-ridden pigs will sneak into your child's crib and steal their breath. Or something like that.
So I had them give him all the shots, with a chaser of Tylenol. Six shots. And I felt helpless and good for getting him caught up and bad for causing him so much pain all at once. He looked up at me with betrayal in his tear-filled eyes, breaking my heart! I know it's for his best interest and all of that common sense, but it's not really any easier to deal with at that moment.
He cried on the way to the car.
He sat with his head in his hands on the way home, looking through the English/Spanish board book that the doctor gave him. The book was filled with pictures of smiling babies, leading him to believe that at least one point during this exercise, he might actually have a reason to smile.
No un pucherito
Y si quieres
Una risa chistosa
Not a chance, Jack. Not a chance.
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
Halloween was a lot of fun for us. John had to work during the day, but we decorated the house and carved pumpkins. One was Mickey Mouse, inspired by the Disney character pumpkins on top of the entrance turnstiles in front of Disneyland.
Our yard decorations were pretty nifty, but the crowd favorite was our pyro pumpkin, fueled by a roll of toilet paper drenched in kerosene (who needs tealights?)
We liked the effect so much that we burnt one more roll just to enjoy it longer.
And here's our little love, dressed as his #1 hero:
The only thing that really sucked about trick-or-treating was that so few houses on our street participated. I don't know if everyone had parties to go to, everyone was too poor to buy candy for strangers or everyone just failed to participate. Either way, we only had three houses other than us to participate. *pout* At least Jack is still too young to care about quantity. It's not like he can really eat any of the candy anyway.
Jack hated his Mickey hat at first, but once we took him outside and walked him down the street at night he was a little too intimidated to care about the hat! He clung to John's hand with all his might and curiously studied the dark neighborhood.
I've always loved Halloween because to me it's the spark igniting the excitement of the holidays. Most of the time I get irritated that Christmas stuff gets put out sooooo early, but at the same time it's fun to be excited about something for so long. Halloween was a great spark. Or, in the case of the pyro pumpkin, it was a great inferno!