'Sup?

Cooper is screaming like this because I told him he could not touch the ant trap on the kitchen floor (YUM!  NOTHING SAYS CLEAN KITCHEN LIKE AN ANT TRAP!), but this was his exact face during his entire well-child check up on Wednesday.  And hey!  We were only 2 months late for his 18-month check up.  Go us!

He HATES going to the doctor so much that the doctor suggested we just delay his Hep A vaccine until his next appointment when he needs a flu shot anyway so he wouldn't have to get a shot which would totally confirm his idea that the doctor's office is a terrible place.

Speaking of vaccines, Dorothy T also had a check up and got her first round of shots.  She is 50th percentile across the board and showed off her awesome tummy time skills by rolling over on the exam table twice.

I am back on a monthly HMO massage schedule, and the one I got today was killer in a good way.  It hurt like hell at the time, which was totally unexpected because the therapist was this tiny, adorable little girl (who steamrolled the shit out of my shoulder), but I feel great now.  She said one of my legs is shorter than the other and one of them turns in because my hips are so messed up.  She thinks from childbirth; I think from the aftermath-- you know, carrying around 2 babies and 4 kids' worth of crap all the time.

Ups and downs

Harry, Cooper, Ben, and I all got sunburned today.  Jack has a very tan neck.

The best part of my weekend so far has been lying down on my bed with Dorothy at 1:25 and sleeping until 3:27 with her all snuggled against m.  I mean, duh.  There is nothing NOTHING better than sleeping with a tiny cuddly baby.  I plan to do that a lot for the next 2 or 3 weeks because she is a horrible daytime sleeper.  I wonder if lying down with her for 3 naps a day will help her gradually learn to sleep during those times.  Right now, she really only sleeps in the jogging stroller or the Ergo or on my lap, but she really does have general nap times-- around 8:30 in the morning, around 10:30 in the morning, and around 2 in the afternoon.  If she added in a dinner prep time cat nap to get her through to her 6:00 bedtime, I think she'd be good to go.  Anyway, though, after she figures out her naps, my days of snuggling with a sleeping baby will be largely over.  How heartbreaking is that?

I thought that the shittiest part of my weekend happened bright and early Friday morning, and I was relieved to have gotten it over with so quickly and efficiently.  It rained before the kids went to school, so I assumed that the morning exercise walk that I have gotten in the habit of taking as soon as I drop the big boys off was not going to happen.  Instead of getting myself dressed in cuteish workout clothes, I stuck the baby in her bouncer and cleaned all 3 bathrooms, which I usually do after I take H and J to school.  Figuring I would stick Dorothy in the Ergo where I could shield her with an umbrella and where she would hide my clothes, I stayed in the gray capri yoga pants and gray t-shirt I slept in, adding a ratty green Northface sweatshirt because it was cold.  At the last possible second, as the kids were finding their rain boots and loading their lunches into their backpacks, though, I noticed a break in the storm and decided to head out for a walk after all.  Not really thinking about how terrible I looked, I put Dorothy and Cooper in the double jogger, and we headed out.  LATE.  Not late enough for the tardy bell, but late enough that Jack's class had already gone up to their room, so I had to walk him inside.  Except my stroller would not fit through the door to school.  So, I let Cooper-- dressed in red and green teddy bear pajama leggings and a blue, black, and red plaid button-down pajama top, red and yellow Crocs, and syrup-- out and schlepped the car seat in over my arm.  Once inside, Cooper BOLTED and started following kids to their classrooms.  I chased him down, realizing that my nighttime nursing bra doesn't offer the same kind of support as a sports bra and really wishing I had brushed my teeth and worn giant sunglasses.  Somehow, Jack, Cooper, Dorothy, and I struggled up the stairs to Jack;s classroom, where Cooper lost his shit because he wanted to go in.  Of course Jack's teachers welcomed him warmly, and we all stood around for a few minutes while I wished I had on deodorant.  On our way out through the cafeteria, Cooper fell down in the janitor's post-breakfast dirt pile, and we had to walk pat a line of well-dressed, perfumed, made-up fifth grade moms waiting to chaperone a field trip.  I said, "Hahaha.  I never have to come inside the building when I have it together in the morning," and they said cricket cricket.  It was ridiculous, and I head that Harper Valley PTA soung in my head for my whole walk.

This may have been the worst part of my weekend, until this afternoon when Jack crapped his swimsuit in the bathroom because he played in the sprinkler too long and really had to go by the time he tore himself away.  This would have been no big deal had he MENTIONED it to me.  Instead, he dumped it out of his pants onto the floor and COVERED IT UP WITH THE RUG, shut the bathroom door, and went back outside.  I came into the bathroom to put away a stack of fluffy yellow towels warm from the dryer, and smell smacked me in the face.  Then I noticed a shit handprint on the linen closet door, a wad of poop smushed into the sink faucet, and a waste basket full of soggy brown tissues.  I was super nice to Jack, calling him in from the yard to take a shower (shit fell out of his SOCKS when he took them off in the laundry room) and telling him that next time, he should just ask for help right away.  Then I bleached the shit (LITERALLY) out of every possible bathroom surface including the floor and washed all the rugs and towels 3 times on hot and then cleaned the washer with bleach and then ran a load of whites with bleach.  It was gross-- I kept finding new shit spots (like the wall behind the hand towel), so I had to think if I were Jack and had poop all over my hands, what else would I touch?  Everything, apparently.  The light switch for sure.

Ben has been dying to buy a dog for Harry's birthday, and I was inches away from agreeing with him even though I kind of think a dog would make every aspect of my life worse.  Then I found the downstairs toilet totally clogged with toilet paper and covered with piss, and shitmageddeon happened upstairs.  I felt perfectly confident in my decision to tell the family no dog until all the humans in the house can pot their bodily waste where it is supposed to go.  Next we'll work on the toothpaste in the sinks.

Took Jack on a bike ride before we picked up Harry at school.  He loved the alone time.

Also the dandelions

Another echo. Good news:  Effusion is gone-- heart and lungs clear.  Bad news:  his aortic valve is leaky.

I am so fat and will post about that soon, but oh my god she's getting so big.  Here she was in the pose on 4-8.

Round head and face like baby Cooper.

Such a goofy face-- she might have my lazy eye

Future veggie garden...

So much dramz.

2 months yesterday

She's 2 months old, you guys!

And totally not smiling about it

Even though this was happening

I love how animated Cooper is, even right before bedtime

Thank goodness for play outside season!

This looks just like baby Jack

Dorothy and I are in my office finishing final grades, and she just hosed me down with vomit-- her first spit up, so I was totally unprepared.

It's gorgeous today, and I cannot wait to drag my fat ass and my huge stroller up some big hills this afternoon.

Ben and I lost our damn minds and are PTO co-presidents next year. Should be great blog material, right?

35: not bad so far

Despite the fact that my baby's lips never touched the business end of a pacifier, she rarely went more than sixty minutes without nursing, and she slept strapped to my body (by day) or clasped in my arms (by night) for the first 44 days of her life, I got my period at exactly 6 weeks and 2 days postpartum.

What in the hell?

When the same damn thing happened with Cooper, I assumed it was because of the intense paci use and the fact that he slept 10 hours overnight in his Rock n Play cradle, which, by the way is the device responsible for Dorothy's birth-- Cooper was such an amazingly easy infant that we figured why not have another.  This time, though, I am the best little APer around and still, still, still my reproductive system thinks we're Duggers and is ready to work on #5.  And just a few days ago, we experienced our first of what will surely be many milk supply dips as I am pretty sure I was ovulating.  What is my body thinking?  A February baby is not my ideal Valentine this year.  Or any year from here on out.

I promise not to freak out about cyclical milk changes with Dorothy the way I did with Cooper because Cooper never drank a single bottle and nursed into my second trimester, wonky milk supply and all.  And he's chubby.  I am just going to nurse, nurse, nurse on demand whenever she wants and forget about pumping.  I have a course release in the fall, so as long as we can figure out my one meeting a week, Dorothy and I should be able to be together for all feedings.  I have a week of meetings in August that might be tricky, but I think I can have a babysitter bring her to me every 2 hours, and we should be fine.

I like that she and I have never been-- and are not planning to be-- out of each other's sight for the next 10 months.  The farthest she has been from me is in an adjacent building with Ben while I taught class and hanging out snug at home while I got a couple of massages last week.

A couple, yes.  Mainly because I haven't been for a massage in so long-- I was really tense.  I HATE prenatal massages because everyplace around here props me up with towels, and I sometimes feel like I am going to pass out from bad angles, and then I had to wait for Dorothy to space her feedings out a little more. It's been a YEAR.  Talk about roughing it.

The first one on Tuesday was just lovely.  There is something about lying on my stomach on a massage table with my face sticking out of the round face pillow thing trying not to drool on the therapist's foot as she works on the left shoulder that has never been right since I pulled a muscle there moving into an apartment right before Ben and I got married that makes me feel so happy and grateful for my wonderful little life.

My second massage of the week-- on Saturday to kick off my Mothers Day/birthday/all about me weekend-- really sucked.  I think the extreme bitchiness I brought with me had something to do with it.  (Ben said, wow, I feel like your hormones are really messed up today which is the last thing you should ever say to someone who is hormonal.) The therapist started with me face up, which is not the usual position, and she never actually massaged my face or my temples, which was a huge bummer and by the time I realized she was never actually going to, I was face down, and it was too late.  Also?  She did this weird pinchy thing long my jaw and neck, and I felt like she was checking my lymph nodes only it made my arms tingly.

Morals of the story:  1.  I can bitch about anything, including a week that contains multiple spa services.  2.  Don't lie down for a massage with a bad attitude.  It screws up your chakras or something.  3. I need more regular massages-- I'm going at least every 4 weeks starting next Thursday.

How in the world can my tiny squishy baby be 2 months old tomorrow?  Two months ago, Ben and I were walking the halls of labor and delivery.  I was drinking apple juice with ice cubes; he was taking random pictures and posting them on Facebook, and we were both 5-and-a-half hours away from meeting the delightful pink person who is sleeping in her own crib right now, lulled into silence by her Sleep Sheep's whale noises.

How can I be 35 already?  With 4 kids and 2 houses?  Does.not.seem.possible.

I had a terrific birthday.

We met with infectious disease about Harry-- hey, want to know the shittiest place to take your infant?  the infectious disease clinic at the hospital, omfg-- and they really don't think he has rheumatic fever.  Before they are going to dole out the Justavirus diagnosis, the doctors are reviewing some more evidence and consulting with some more people, and they are going to treat him like a strep carrier and give him another antibiotic at the end of his penicillin course, instead of leaving him on penicillin through adulthood, which is what they would do for rheumatic fever.

I got the purse I have been coveting since oh MY WHOLE LIFE, and the kids gave me picture albums which if you saw the laundry basket full of photos in our storage room, you would know we needed.

Because we are gluttons for punishment, we took everyone to our favorite birthday bar, and I got pretty drunk on 1.5 beers.

Then Ben and I sat by a backyard fire after the kids went to bed and came inside to watch Veep.  Party animals. 

my fave picture

Ben the high chair

H, fresh off his talent show audition

Jack, king of the cell phone selfie

Dorothy's bday gift to me:  she took a paci and was happy the whole meal!

oh my god he's so adorable I want to eat him

I'm 35 tomorrow

On the eve of my 35th birthday, Ben and I are eating tortilla chips and mango salsa as we watch the Survivor finale. All 4 kids were in bed before 8. Did I mention that the baby has a bedtime? She totally does. In her own crib even. She is one of those put down drowsy but awake babies I have always read about but didn't believe existed.

 Anyway, maybe it's the snack or the quiet house or the lovely Mother's Day we've had, but I feel grateful for my life and all the people in it. And I am not even drinking. Although I did start the day with a surprisingly strong mimosa-- maybe the brunch bartender felt bad for us as we wrangled 4 tiny kids-- and I was nostalgic for my day-drinking days. Ah, college. Ah, grad school. Ah, life before Mother's Day was about me.

Cooper did, of course, still have a fever on Friday. That's it, though, just a fever. 102.5 the second his Tylenol wore off round the clock. No other symptoms except general lethargy and crabbiness. He even fell asleep on the floor a couple of times. OF COURSE we went back to the pediatrician because after Harry's ordeal, I am "that mom" and will go to the doctor seeking antibiotics for every sniffle from here on out even if Ben is in class and I have to take several children by myself. Cooper lost his shit again OF COURSE, and I had to hold him for his exam while Dorothy lost her mind in the stroller (and it seems that Cooper begins freaking out the moment I pick up the baby, so I had to put her down mid-scream, but it was too late-- Coop was already cray-cray). Luckily he had an ear infection and scored a script, so the doctor did not have to culture his throat. He feels much better and is back to his usual living Build-a-Bear self. Phew. (Dorothy, though, has what looks like diaper rash in her neck folds, and Jack looked really sick at dinner tonight, so we might be back in the office before our already scheduled well child checks-- 18 months for Coop, 2 months for Dorothy, and 5 years for Jack-- next week).

My awesome parents sent me this on Thursday as an early birthday present, proving that you should always be Facebook friends with your parents because they will hear you crowdsourcing your friends and buy you good gifts.

I love feeding Dorothy-- this is my view of her all the time.  So sweet.

Vera Bradley layette!  Love it!  Also, this is the first time I have ever had a less-than-2-month-old baby who can wear 3 to 6 month clothes.

Harry at brunch this morning,  He ate SO MUCH, including several plates of bacon and a made-to-order ham and cheese omelet.  We won;t mention that to his cardiologist on Friday.

Cooper really likes watermelon.

Jack is a buffet risk taker and loaded up on the shrimp.  Also, I love how scrunchy Dorothy is in this picture.

We finally figured out how to eat our meal in peace:  keep  Cooper in whipped cream and cupcakes.

He even had whipped cream on the bottom of his shoes.

See his footprints?

Ben suggested we sit on a bench outside the ballroom for our picture, but it wasn't very pretty, so I insisted we go into the lobby.  In the time it took to get downstairs, everyone started acting squirrely, though, and I ended up immortalizing this weird straddle hold.

Jack is too cool for school.

Speaking of school, this is what Jack made.  I asked him what he was saying, but he said he had a spine on his leg, which I think means he sat near a prickly bush?  I am going to miss homemade Mother's Day gifts, by the way.  (Although Ben got me gorgeous flowers and a 6-month series of pedicures at my favorite spa, so there's always that stuff to tide me over after pom-pom picture frames and mystery plants potted in plastic cups stop coming my way).

Ben and Dorothy spent Cooper's nap watching Kill Bill Vol 2.  FOTY.

Dorothy didn't get her usual 8:30 nap this morning because we went to brunch (clearly it was heavy on the "br" part).  We thought she'd sleep through it, but she fussed and nursed the whole damn time.  Then we went to Whole Foods because we had no food in our house, and she sort of slept in the store.  Once we got home, though, she spent the entire rest of the day giving us the creepy stare and trying to eat herself to sleep, spitting up, and starting the whole process again.  I put her to bed at 6.

Because I am officially an old lady tomorrow, I thought I would ring in 35 in true super old lady fashion by making a recipe I clipped from the paper.  This particular recipe is from 1978, so it's as old as I am.  Twinkies!  Ben and I are excited, but the kids have never had a Twinkie, so they just think it's a weird cake alternative.

Happy Mother's Day-- I hope it was lovely!

Plague

Cooper is sick again.

AGAIN.

He has been sick almost constantly since Dorothy has been born.  A virus.  Strep.  An ear infection.  A virus, and now a fever and general misery-- probably the dread Justavirus, but who knows because there was too much snot, milk, blood, and granola bar on his throat culture for the doctor to be totally confident in its negative result.

Blood.  Because Cooper went apeshit crazy as soon as our nurse called us back to the exam room.  He had been happily babbling about fish (shish) and eating a granola bar at the tiny waiting room table next to the aquarium.  Then he heard his name and lost his mind.  He bit his tongue (or maybe the inside of his lip) during his strep test and screamed and kicked like crazy while first the nurse and then the doctor checked him out.  On my lap where I was also nursing Dorothy under my nursing cover because my outfit was not muffin-top friendly.  I sweated through my clothes and felt the benefits of the heavenly massage I enjoyed right before the appointment leaking away.  And that was before both babies crapped themselves AT THE SAME TIME.  It was the worst time I have ever had at the doctor including the time that ended in a PICU stay and the time I had to wait for 45 minutes in an 8x8 box with all 4 kids.  Although I was impressed by the doctor's ability to put Dorothy's sock back  on the foot that was sticking out of the nursing cover with one hand while he used the other hand to hold his stethoscope on Cooper's writhing back.  I'm not good at one-handed sock application.

The bad news is that if he doesn't feel better tomorrow (and since he has a 102-degree fever the second his Tylenol wears off and keeps falling asleep on the floor, I am not holding my breath) I have to take him back to the doctor. Neat-o.

I think the blood test that accompanied his last bout with Justavirus really freaked him out and now he hates all things doctor-related.

Cooper asleep at 8:00 yesterday morning, a mere hour after he woke up

The other week, all the big kids wanted Panera, but I didn't want to take them all to Panera, so I made chicken noodle soup with french bread to dip, apples, and brownies, and we had Panera at home.

The other day, they wanted it again, so we went out-- a more stressful dining experience, but cleanup was a breeze!

Yesterday, Harry's class ended their unit on pioneers with a pretty intense pioneer museum in the cafeteria.  They had maps, wagon trains, journals, and hilarious stations where they explained things like how to do wash, how to make butter, what pioneer schools were like, a typical journey on the Oregon trail, and popular pioneer cliches.

Harry picked out his own outfit and was really bothered by his anachronistic Crocs.  He also fashioned suspenders out of the strap from his lunchbox.

To keep his love of pioneer culture alive, I told him we could implement the "Children should be seen and not heard" cliche.  It's not going well.

Catch up

Harry had another follow-up. Things look good-- no change, still some fluid around the heart and around the lungs.  He still has activity restrictions-- no soccer, no gym, no recess, no running.

I picked up a Melissa and Doug sticker faces pad at the hospital gift shop, and it is a hit with all ages.

Cooper loves to rip Dorothy's bows off her head and wear them.  Today, he dropped her stretchy leopard headband in a puddle, retrieved it, and sucked the water out of it, which is how I knew he was thirsty.

Dorothy sleeps away from me now in places like her crib and her bouncy chair.

This stroller is HEAVY

Ben brought all the outside furniture out of the attic and stuffed the Christmas decorations in it.

Cooper got a super hero mask.

Harry talked to Dorothy for over an hour about colors and pioneer America.

We went to the zoo.

I got to take everyone to the ER yesterday morning because I dropped Dorothy on her head.  She's fine.  Ben said she was fine, but I dropped her on her head!  She hit the top of her head, bounced, and landed on her forehead.  I was holding her against my shoulder with one hand and putting laundry in a basket with my other hand, leaning forward.  She arched back and bam!  It was horrible.  But everyone got a 6:30 am ER popsicle, so there's that.

Since Harry can't do recess, we go to school and take him for a walk while his friends are on the playground.  It's a nice little interlude for us and for him and it beats him sitting in the nurse's office and prevents him from  bouncing off the classroom walls all afternoon.  But, as you can see, it messes with Cooper's nap.

That's what's been going on here for the last few days.  Just taking walks and dropping baby.  You know.