Ian weighs 15lbs 8 ounces (50%), is 26 inches long (75%) and has a head circumference of 44cm (90%). He doesn’t have a growth curve so much as a growth stair-step ladder he’s on.
Except for his lingering skin issues and one clogged tear duct he is the “picture of health”. The doctor wants him to keep taking his Zantac ( for reflux) twice a day at .7ml per dose. She said his head control issues are probably just due to his head being heavier than the rest of him (a common thing for preemies, even late-term preemies) and some latent weakness. She recommended increasing his tummy time during the day.
He had five shots today and I’m not sure who cried harder- Ian or Ethan.
Tuesday, September 19, 2006
Friday, September 15, 2006
Take this job and drill it
I’ve been joking for the past few months that I’ve been employed at the Hotel California. I can “check out” but I can never leave. Well I’ve finally found a way out and I’m happy to announce that I’m now officially a “homemaker”. Though, considering the issues we’ve had with potty training, maybe my title should be “custodial engineer”.
How am I celebrating my first day of “stay at home” mom-ness?
Why, having a root canal, of course.
How am I celebrating my first day of “stay at home” mom-ness?
Why, having a root canal, of course.
Monday, September 11, 2006
5 Years for 4 Months
I’ve been having a debate with myself for the past few weeks. Ian is 4 months old today and I try to post monthly updates on this site. But today is also the 5th anniversary of 9/11 and I really feel like I should have some sort of commemoration or memories post.
The more I think about those hours and days following the terror attacks, the more I realize that this post really does need to be about Ian and Ethan.
Five years ago I woke early to fight traffic all the way to Capitol Hill. This morning I woke up early after Ian gifted me with 7 hours of sleep last night. I nursed him back to sleep and snuggled down in the bed with him.
Five years ago I was debating with Kassy and Anne about who would go downstairs to get breakfast. This morning Ethan helped me make muffins.
Five years ago every TV in the Senator’s office was turned to CNN or FOX. This morning the TV was tuned to Franklin and the Wiggles.
9/11/01 was a bright sunny day- the perfect day in DC. 9/11/06 has dawned dreary and grey, as if the sky itself weeps with remembrance.
9/11 was a sobering day for me. I’d only been on Capitol Hill for 5 months. I was still a “junior staffer” and the ways and workings of the legislative branch of our government were still somewhat mystifying. The terror quotient of 9/11 didn’t come until it was all over. We were too confused, in the dark, and busy to be scared during the attacks. Post- traumatic stress syndrome probably best describes the crash of emotions I, we all, went through following that sunny September Day.
Five years ago I was undergoing treatment for endometriosis. We weren’t even sure we could have a baby. Financially we weren’t ready for a baby. We had just signed a lease on a rental house in Bowie and we were looking forward to leaving our one room apartment in Baltimore. Mark had just started at Mythic and the future was by no means certain or even secure.
Five years later we have not one but two gorgeous, happy, healthy boys. We own our own home. I can look back with pride on my time with the Senator. Mark is excelling at his career. Our personal finances are in order, the outlook promising.
That is how 9/11 should be remembered. Pause to reflect on those friends and loved ones lost and remember the sadness and uncertainty of those days. Then think about all the wonderful things that have occurred in those five years. The children born, the sunny days celebrated, the continuation of life. We have not moved on, we have not forgotten, but we have grown.
How better to say: “Terror did not win. We have survived. We did not collapse when the towers did. We did not surrender when the walls of the Pentagon fell.” Those brave men on that plane in Pennsylvania, the very men who might well have saved my life that day, said “Let’s roll.”
We have rolled on.
Happy 4 month birthday Ian.
The more I think about those hours and days following the terror attacks, the more I realize that this post really does need to be about Ian and Ethan.
Five years ago I woke early to fight traffic all the way to Capitol Hill. This morning I woke up early after Ian gifted me with 7 hours of sleep last night. I nursed him back to sleep and snuggled down in the bed with him.
Five years ago I was debating with Kassy and Anne about who would go downstairs to get breakfast. This morning Ethan helped me make muffins.
Five years ago every TV in the Senator’s office was turned to CNN or FOX. This morning the TV was tuned to Franklin and the Wiggles.
9/11/01 was a bright sunny day- the perfect day in DC. 9/11/06 has dawned dreary and grey, as if the sky itself weeps with remembrance.
9/11 was a sobering day for me. I’d only been on Capitol Hill for 5 months. I was still a “junior staffer” and the ways and workings of the legislative branch of our government were still somewhat mystifying. The terror quotient of 9/11 didn’t come until it was all over. We were too confused, in the dark, and busy to be scared during the attacks. Post- traumatic stress syndrome probably best describes the crash of emotions I, we all, went through following that sunny September Day.
Five years ago I was undergoing treatment for endometriosis. We weren’t even sure we could have a baby. Financially we weren’t ready for a baby. We had just signed a lease on a rental house in Bowie and we were looking forward to leaving our one room apartment in Baltimore. Mark had just started at Mythic and the future was by no means certain or even secure.
Five years later we have not one but two gorgeous, happy, healthy boys. We own our own home. I can look back with pride on my time with the Senator. Mark is excelling at his career. Our personal finances are in order, the outlook promising.
That is how 9/11 should be remembered. Pause to reflect on those friends and loved ones lost and remember the sadness and uncertainty of those days. Then think about all the wonderful things that have occurred in those five years. The children born, the sunny days celebrated, the continuation of life. We have not moved on, we have not forgotten, but we have grown.
How better to say: “Terror did not win. We have survived. We did not collapse when the towers did. We did not surrender when the walls of the Pentagon fell.” Those brave men on that plane in Pennsylvania, the very men who might well have saved my life that day, said “Let’s roll.”
We have rolled on.
Happy 4 month birthday Ian.
Wednesday, September 06, 2006
The worst kind of pain
There are three areas of your body that you can hurt that create what I like to classify as the "worst kind of pain". This pain isn't necessarily the most intense, but because every single action you take, from breathing, to walking, to simply existing, effects, or is affected by, the pain, it is the worst kind of pain. The three categories of this worst kind of pain are: tooth pain, back pain, and the pain following abdominal surgery.
The five year anniversary of my recovery from abdominal surgery just passed. I think I can wait, oh, 75 more years before repeating THAT lovely experience in wishing for death.
On Friday night I bit into my steak and thought "Hmm, crunchy with a metallic tang. Ahh CRAP" A great huge filling fell out of my upper back molar on my right side. Of course it was Labor Day weekend so I had to suffer until Tuesday before the dentist's office was even open, and then wait until Wednesday for an appointment.
I did a lovely job, according to the dentist with the large soulful dark eyes (What else was I supposed to stare at for an hour?) who is probably a good 15 years younger than I am. Not only did I lose the great big filling ("You really aren't supposed to swallow them". Gee, thanks) but I cracked off the back end of the tooth. Oh- and incidentally totally exposed the great big nerve. But he couldn't just assume that from the x-rays, he had to go and PROBE a bit.
After they scraped me off the ceiling he determined that I needed a root canal and a crown. I told him to pull the tooth. He argued. I argued back. He got very stern ( as stern as a 15 year old Asian boy pretending to be a dentist can be) and explained about bite and jaw position and mentioned the outrageous amounts of money my parents had probably spent giving me nice straight teeth with an aligned bite. Oh, thanks, guilt.
Then, because I'd collapsed in a goo of acquiescence, he did a full exam. The good news is I have no "new" cavities. The bad news is, I have another molar/filling cracked just like this last one probably was. It will have to be replaced. There’s a filling with decay underneath it that has to be removed, drilled, maybe root canaled and then crowned, and a filling that I lost that I wasn't sure I even had.
The grand total? $1700 AFTER insurance. Oh- and that's not counting the bill for the oral surgeon to do the root canal- because the 12 year old said my jaw wouldn't open wide enough for him to risk it.
As for the other of my trifecta of worst kinds of pain? Oh I managed to do that to myself by putting my eldest in "time out". Don't ask for more of an explanation, it is something that "Shall not be mentioned".
And THAT is why Ethan confided to his stuffed animals that "That Mommy is grumpy today".
The five year anniversary of my recovery from abdominal surgery just passed. I think I can wait, oh, 75 more years before repeating THAT lovely experience in wishing for death.
On Friday night I bit into my steak and thought "Hmm, crunchy with a metallic tang. Ahh CRAP" A great huge filling fell out of my upper back molar on my right side. Of course it was Labor Day weekend so I had to suffer until Tuesday before the dentist's office was even open, and then wait until Wednesday for an appointment.
I did a lovely job, according to the dentist with the large soulful dark eyes (What else was I supposed to stare at for an hour?) who is probably a good 15 years younger than I am. Not only did I lose the great big filling ("You really aren't supposed to swallow them". Gee, thanks) but I cracked off the back end of the tooth. Oh- and incidentally totally exposed the great big nerve. But he couldn't just assume that from the x-rays, he had to go and PROBE a bit.
After they scraped me off the ceiling he determined that I needed a root canal and a crown. I told him to pull the tooth. He argued. I argued back. He got very stern ( as stern as a 15 year old Asian boy pretending to be a dentist can be) and explained about bite and jaw position and mentioned the outrageous amounts of money my parents had probably spent giving me nice straight teeth with an aligned bite. Oh, thanks, guilt.
Then, because I'd collapsed in a goo of acquiescence, he did a full exam. The good news is I have no "new" cavities. The bad news is, I have another molar/filling cracked just like this last one probably was. It will have to be replaced. There’s a filling with decay underneath it that has to be removed, drilled, maybe root canaled and then crowned, and a filling that I lost that I wasn't sure I even had.
The grand total? $1700 AFTER insurance. Oh- and that's not counting the bill for the oral surgeon to do the root canal- because the 12 year old said my jaw wouldn't open wide enough for him to risk it.
As for the other of my trifecta of worst kinds of pain? Oh I managed to do that to myself by putting my eldest in "time out". Don't ask for more of an explanation, it is something that "Shall not be mentioned".
And THAT is why Ethan confided to his stuffed animals that "That Mommy is grumpy today".
Friday, September 01, 2006
Rainy Days
This evening an early-season high pressure system is pulling cold air from the North Atlantic that is impacting with the remnants of Hurricane/Tropical Storm/Tropical Depression/Pain in my Butt Ernesto and causing tight pressure gradients that in turn cause high sustained winds with occasionally hurricane force gusts.
In other words, it is a dark and stormy night.
But earlier it was just a cool and rainy day. In my further studies in “How to be the worst parent ever” I let me child play in the rain.
He asked to play in the rain. I was tired of losing at Candyland and he seemed particularly distraught that Daddy wasn’t home yet. So I was “inclined to acquiesce with his request.”
He loved it.
In other words, it is a dark and stormy night.
But earlier it was just a cool and rainy day. In my further studies in “How to be the worst parent ever” I let me child play in the rain.
He asked to play in the rain. I was tired of losing at Candyland and he seemed particularly distraught that Daddy wasn’t home yet. So I was “inclined to acquiesce with his request.”
He loved it.
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