(More) Sweet Christmas!

Every year at Christmas, I'm afraid it's going to be the last one that's covered in naivete....that the innocence of it all is going to be polluted.  Does that make sense?  My children (and I don't suppose they're that much different from others) find the purest joy from the simplest things.  I love watching that happen.  We don't "do Santa Claus" for several reasons, and people have been so generous to share their opinions about that.  We do, however, provide lots of opportunities for discovering unexpected joy on many days throughout the year.  When we wake in the morning sometimes and I whisper, "There's new work in the cupboard," I love seeing their faces light up and watching them run out of the room.  (Really.  It's the delight I savor....not the few extra minutes in bed.)

Christmas provides a little more of that, I think, just because children love to see what's in those boxes that stay way up high on the garage shelves most of the year.  One of my dear aunts gave us a lollipop tree one year, and this year I had the idea to make some "lollipops" for it.  While JayBird napped one day, The Girl and I cut some lollipop sticks in half and glued on some pom-poms.  They dried overnight, and the next morning the children found them in a basket ready to decorate the tree.  They get used for lots of things:  lollipops, of course, and also fingernail polishers, something that gets cooked regularly (I have no idea), baby bottles, and who knows what else.  I just know I find them all over the house.  But that morning, they did decorate the tree.

Is that the sweetest thing ever?

JayBird really enjoyed this work.

The Girl is also "interested to" (as she would say) nativity scenes so you can imagine her excitement when she received a new one from another of my sweet aunts.

Well, she was excited until she realized that Baby Jesus does not come out of the manger.  She's managed to put aside her disappointment and enjoy it anyway.  One night, I surprised her by setting it up in a little play space.  She actually woke up while I was working on it and had the groggiest, sweetest little smile as she toddled back to bed.

The Girl loves to move the Wise Men around on the roads, and JayBird likes to be sure the animals stay hydrated.

We just have the sweetest of times with the simplest of things.  No flashing lights.  No noisy toys.  Lollipop sticks.  Pom-poms.  A hand-me-down nativity scene, some felt, and wine corks.  Two sweet babies, and two smitten parents.  That's all we need.  So when I say, "We have limits on things," or "We don't do Santa," just know that our home is (usually) filled with discovery and delight (to borrow a phrase) that the toy stores could never package.

The Crash

Not long ago, I posted about The Girl and her wheels.  Anyone who knows us knows that the bike now lives in the back of our van so it's ready to ride anywhere, anytime.  Not long ago, we were downtown at an LLL meeting, and when we packed up, JayBird fell asleep right away.  As we were driving away from the downtown area, The Girl reminded me that I promised her a bike ride.  Downtown.  I was really hoping she had forgotten so that we could go home, JayBird could sleep in the van, and she could ride her bike in the driveway while I did some housework.  No chance of her forgetting, I'm afraid.  The Riverwalk is one of her favorite places to ride because "we don't have to worry about intersections".  (Her words.)

That particular day, we parked on Ann Street, and she had a snack while JayBird finished his nap.  We got everything ready so that when he awoke, we could get him ready and hit the road.  The stroller was out and ready.  The bike was out and ready.  The Girl put on her helmet.  JayBird awoke, and while he pottied and got redressed, The Girl and I had a conversation about gravity.  Specifically, we talked about the hill we had to get down and perhaps it would be a good idea to walk the bike down the hill until she had a little more practice with the brakes.

In the blink of an eye, I turned around to find that I was talking to myself, and she was having a private lesson in gravity with no words required.  She was in total control:  hands on the handlebars, toes slightly dragging the ground.  Another blink of an eye and I realized I had to choose between leaving my (mostly dressed) one-year old alone in the van and trying to run down the hill without falling and breaking an appendage and/or killing myself.  I knew I was going to have to collect her.  I remembered I had the keys.  I took off down the hill just in time to see the bike hit the edge of the curb and The Girl go slightly over and to the side of the handlebars.  As I approached, she was screaming, "I can't get out of here!  I can't get my bike out of here!"  I pulled her out to find no apparent injuries.  (I later found 2 small scratches on one elbow.)  She just seemed angry that she was temporarily stuck and slightly thrilled that she "went really fast".

I, on the other hand, was in shock that she had collided with neither the telephone pole nor the bush, but had instead, maneuvered directly between the two for a soft landing.

See that space to the right of the light pole?  That's where she went in.

We hurried back up the hill, and the fact that angels were watching over us was confirmed when I found the poop-containing potty undisturbed by JayBird.  He was busy driving.  See why I had to think about where were the keys when my child was heading for the Cape Fear River?

Apparently the impact of the crash knocked the wheel a little loose so we didn't get too far before the chain fell off.  What better time to learn to put on a chain?  Thankfully, my outgoing little biker rounded up help from a passer-by.  I had a strong feeling that we just weren't meant to go bike riding that day, but it seems I was the only one with that feeling.

All's well that ends well, I suppose.

U! N! C! W! Go Hawks Go!!

That's what we've been hearing around our house lately.  Some very generous friends gifted us with tickets to a couple of basketball games, and boy, were the children ready!

JayBird cheered.

And snacked.

And snacked.

And snacked...

.....so he would have plenty of energy to cheer some more...

...and explore.  If you've ever wanted to explore every inch of anywhere, go with a one-year old.

Meanwhile, The Girl was prepared for cheering the team to victory.

Clearly, she's very focused on the game.

Her acrobatics impressed neither her father nor the fans sitting around us.  She looked pretty safe to me.  And anyway, did you see what those other cheerleaders were doing?  Infinitely more dangerous stunts.

On one of our explorations, JayBird and I ran into the Seahawk.  He was a big hit.  JayBird didn't really want to go near him, but he did want to be sure the Seahawk knew there was a picture of him in the lobby.  He spent a lot of time on that.

"Hawk.  Hawk"  (head nodding)

When the cheerleaders went onto the court for the first time, The Girl said, "Mama, I need to go dance with them!" as she headed to the court.  I promised her we would try to catch them after the game, and you would think they were long lost friends when she finally got there.

They were so sweet to her!

Those were fun times.  Fun, exhausting times!

Sweet Christmas!

Sweet.  That's the best way I can describe Christmas morning on Maplechase.  The children had absolutely no expectations of gifts, and they were perfectly surprised to find a few beneath our little tree.

I wish I could remember what was so funny to The Papa.

They've been wanting a tea set for so long, and we finally got it all together!

My girl is always wishing for a tea party!

After unwrapping a couple of individual gifts and unpacking the stockings, they were ready for one of their favorite breakfasts:  waffles and sausage!  So simple.  So easy to please.  So sweet.

The Papa Has a New Job!

Well, The Papa has had a new job for more than six months.  It's wonderful.  He has a job with "regular" hours.  He's home on the weekends, and he's even had a couple of paid holidays.  The best part for me, however, is that he's usually home in time to help with bedtime.

This is helpful.

Isn't this what bedtime looks like at every home with young children?

JayBird gets involved, too, of course.  It's how he learned to count to 19 before he was 19 months old.
"One........two............ fifteen............. thirteen...... nineteen."

As long as he's taking care of both of them, I guess I can't complain.

....sleeping in heavenly peace.

Wheels!

I know I'm technically old enough to have grandchildren, but the idea that I have a child able to ride a bike is kind of throwing me for a loop.  Kay Kay will be four in less than two weeks, and people are asking how that feels.  I guess I haven't really stopped to think about that since I'm so freaked out about her being able to ride a bike.  Freaked out, in a way, and relieved in a way.  Relieved that she didn't inherit her mother's lack of athleticism.  (For the record, The Papa disagrees completely that I lack athleticism.)

Anyway, the point of this post is to remember these first days of bike riding.  It all started with the balance bike.  It was recommended by a friend, and it's amazing how fast she can go on it after just a few months.  We bought this bike mid-July.

She balances and steers like a champ!

Of course she can ride a bike in a long, blowy dress.

Our friends were going out of town for a weekend, and I had the brilliant idea of borrowing their "big girl pedal bike" to see if Kay Kay would take to it as did their daughter.  When I got it home, I realized that my idea was probably a little crazy.  We would probably have about an hour over a couple of days at the most to try it out, and what kid can actually learn to ride a bike in an hour?  The Papa helped her onto the seat, she started pedaling, and off she went!  I couldn't believe it!  After a little while, The Papa had to take off down the street to retrieve JayBird, and I was left helping Kay Kay on the bike.  I helped her on, and she was clearly taking off as I held onto the seat.  She was yelling, "Mom, let go!  LET GO!!!!"  I always pictured that day being me the one letting go while she yelled, "Don't let go!"  Wrong again.

The Papa had already decided he wanted to get her a bike for her birthday, and as luck would have it, the neighbor's seven year-old daughter was moving up to the next size bike.  I say, "...as luck would have it...," because to have that bike would be like some people having a lock of Elvis's hair.  We decided not to wait until the birthday to give it to her, and she seemed pretty pleased when we uncovered it in the garage.

She later told The Papa she was "disappointed because she really wanted it to be a pig."  Too much Charlotte's Web lately, I suppose.

She still needs help getting on and off, but she's totally doing it!

Taking off around the block....

....and they're back.

We call this "The Papa's New Exercise Plan".

JayBird got some wheels, too.

This is JayBird asking for "Hop" which I interpret to mean, "Help Now!"  I could be wrong about that.  I may need to hear it again to be sure.

Maybe I'll start calling myself, "The Proud Mama".  So proud of my girl, and happy for her.  I just love the smile on her face when the wind's on it.  Can't get enough of that.

Precious Memories, How They Linger.....

...and stinky memories, how they fade.  Thank goodness for that!  Sleep has been a pretty elusive subject around here lately.  What....the past 4 years or so?  A friend reminded me once that sleep deprivation is a torture treatment so when I'm at my wit's end, I try to remember that.  Some time ago I joked that my death certificate would surely read, "Time of Death:  Bedtime".  Ugh!

I know, I know.  One day these kids will be teenagers, and I won't be able to wake them before noon.  And it's all going to happen so fast.  I know that.  I've seen the time flying already.  I'm writing this post for a couple of reasons.  One reason is that I'm sure every stage of parenting is just like the first:  labor and childbirth.  Just as women forget the pains of childbirth, I think people must forget the pains of every stage.  I can barely remember what it was like to have a newborn in the house.  Barely.  And I'm only 18 months out.  So, one day I know I won't really remember what it was like to have a preschooler and a toddler in the house.  I won't remember the tears (theirs and mine) because no one can figure out why no one can sleep.  I won't remember all the things I tried to bring on sleep (theirs and mine).  I won't remember all the things I thought of doing to bring on sleep (mainly theirs).

The second reason is to remind myself that people actually are sleeping.  Maybe not as much as I'd like, but we're getting enough to get by.  You know, sometimes when you're in the middle of something, everything seems so extreme.

Here's proof that people are sleeping.

An early bedtime.  Both asleep by 5 pm.

One day I decided JayBird might fall asleep more easily in the evening if I eliminated his mid-day nap.  See how that worked out?

Nap Elimination Day 1:  Fail.

When they awaken in the evenings, The Papa and I have to really watch one another to be sure we aren't being "too exciting".  Why are they so fun, and why are they so sweet when they're supposed to be sleeping?

This was around 9:30 one night after he'd already been asleep, then awake.  That's a fairly well-played movie around here.

Nap time.  Guess who.

I'm pretty sure if I hadn't written this post, I would look back in 30 years and think this must have been what it was like to have two little kids in the house.  It kind of is, if you don't blink.

Sleeping in heavenly peace.

Picnic in the Park(ing Garage)

Saturday was perfect.  The temperature outside was cool, and there was a wonderful breeze.  It was a great day for a picnic except for the fact that it was raining.  The Papa thought our current book selection was a little "weak" and wanted to go to the library to get some "more interesting" books.  He also wanted to get some exercise for the dog so it was his idea to have a picnic in the parking garage.  We drove almost to the very top where there were no cars, staked our claim, and had a great time.

The dog and the children ran and ran and ran.

In case you're wondering what's on KayKay's head, it's a pair of pants.  Duh.  And, I happened to capture a rare moment when JayBird was off the ground.

We ate our lunch, and then we took the elevator down to the library.  The Papa thought we should take the stairs, and I just chalked the idea of descending six flights of stairs with a one-year-old to the fact that he works full-time.  Nevertheless, a picnic in the parking garage was a wonderful idea, and I have a feeling we'll be doing it more often!

Every playground should have such a sophisticated child-containment system as this.

Another JayBird in the Chair

Remember this picture of Kay Kay in her great-great grandmother's chair?

22 months old

I recently snapped this one.  I titled this "Another JayBird...." because the original Mr. Priest was also called "JayBird" from time to time.

13 months old.  "Rock, rock, rock!"

While we were there, I also got a shot of the two Caraways studying birds.

Two sweet girls.

Scared Strep-less

Well, not really.  Here's what happened.  The children and I went to spend a Friday night with The Nana.  Kay Kay slept with her, but The Nana brought her into the room where JayBird and I were sleeping around 6:00 Saturday morning.  She was crying a little, and as soon as I touched her I knew she was feverish.  Hot, even.  (Ever since the double ear infection episode, I've learned to refer to fever as "a little warm", "hot", or "really hot".)  I say she was "hot".  In my mind, I would guess around 101 degrees.  When I was able to get out of bed without waking JayBird, I found the two of them just rocking.

Kay Kay ate a light breakfast that morning, but not light enough to be worrisome.  She was fully awake by that point, and we decided to try to keep her resting by letting her watch television.  The only thing she could tell me didn't feel "right" was the area around her eyes and nose.  And she mentioned her throat hurt.  While I did consider what she told me, I didn't put much stock in it because she hadn't complained about anything.  And, I think children are like little humans in that if they go looking for something, they're likely to find it.  (Or should I say like little pediatricians?)  I scurried to the drugstore to see what immune-boosting products they might have.  I felt like I had won the lottery by finding a homeopathic combination remedy for allergies and a bottle of elderberry syrup.

These photos are totally unrelated to this blog post, but apparently I didn't take any pictures of "sick" Kay Kay.

By about noon that day, she seemed pretty normal.  If she had any fever, it was very little.  She wanted to go outside and play so we did.  She was riding a battery-operated toy, and I showed her how to move the lever up and down to switch from forward to reverse.  I went inside to put away the lunch dishes, and I heard her crying outside.  When she came in, she showed me her right middle finger.  It had gotten caught between the lever and the seat of the toy and was scraped as she pulled it out.  It was bleeding a little.  I asked her what had happened to her pointer finger, but she just kept telling me about her middle finger getting stuck.  The Nana warned me to watch out if she ever got "really hurt" because of the way she was carrying on about that scrape.

I knew that was completely out of character, and I continued to be concerned about the red, swollen right pointer finger.  We went home right after dinner and slept pretty well that night.  The next morning, I noticed that the pointer finger was still red, hot, and swollen, and now so was her left foot.  Red, hot, and swollen.  Also, I noticed a slight rash over most of her body but especially near the creases.  The swollen appendages were really concerning me now so I decided to take her to the pediatrician.  Trust me when I say this was not an easy decision.  Kay Kay's seen an allopathic physician three times now in her three and a half years.  Once when she was eight weeks old to reassure some family members she was "okay", once when she was fourteen months old with a double ear infection, and now this.

Well, I did say "allergies", and here are azaleas in the background.  Notice JayBird always has one foot in the air.

The doctor informed us that the rash was very typical strep onset scarlet fever.  Swollen appendages and all.  He did a throat swab and confirmed that the strep bacteria was present.  He wrote a prescription for amoxicillin and wanted her fever gone by the next morning.  I'm only a fan of antibiotics when they're really needed so obviously I asked for an alternative.  Imagine my dismay when he told me there aren't any, but that amoxicillin is like a wonder drug because it targets very specifically.  I did believe it when he told me that.  I believe it targets bacteria.  Bad bacteria and good bacteria.  All bacteria.  No mention of probiotics or side effects.

Since the nurse documented her temperature at 98.9 degrees, I considered my first mission accomplished:  eliminating the fever by the next morning.  I can't imagine anyone who would consider 98.9 degrees a fever.  So what I knew is that I had a child who didn't look sick or act sick, and I wasn't about to attack her obviously well-functioning immune system.  I knew she did have strep so I felt like I had to get busy to figure out how to beat it.  I did what any rational parent does:  I put out a call for "strep veterans" on Facebook.  I needed to hear from people who had beaten it without antibiotics.  As I knew they would, they came through for me.  I talked to my Shaklee friend who was able to get some of my "natural antibiotic" stash replenished that day.

Sometimes these are the "good sides".

Later that afternoon, I noticed a little white pustule forming just above her left pinky toe.  She asked for bandages for her foot, and as I applied them to her feet, The Papa observed that they followed an almost perfect line.  Right along where her shoe would have been.  Can you guess?  Fire ants!  I counted about nine bites on that foot, but the only one that formed the pustule was the one that would have been just inside the shoe.  My guess is that fire ants were stinging her, and when she reached down to brush them off her finger was stung, too.

I have no idea why she wanted her socks pulled up.

We consider this girl to be pretty smart, but this is not the first time she has been obviously stung by fire ants and not reported it.  I'm just not sure what to say about that.  It did confirm what I had suspected though:  it wasn't really the scrape on that right middle finger that was bothering her.  (See why I don't put much stock in her self-analysis?)

The next morning we went straight-away to see our chiropractor who started our examination in a back room.  He soon asked if we could get back out to the tables so he could do the adjustments more easily.  He considered her subclinical.  Totally asymptomatic.  Apparently people walk around with strep all the time.  We talked for a few minutes about the immune-boosting things we were doing.  I asked him if I should have her re-tested in a week or so and if he could do it.  His answer?  "Yes, I can test her, and no you shouldn't re-test her.  The only reason to re-test her is if you plan to treat her with an antibiotic, and if I know you, Denise, you're not going to do that."  Fast friends, him and me.  He and I.  Whatever.  What he said (and he's right) was that discovering she had strep was totally coincidental.  If not for those fire ants, we never would have known because I would not have taken her to an allopathic doctor for a six-hour fever and a slight rash in the creases.

Anyway, the days came and went.  No further symptoms.  Kind of anti-climactic, I know, but that's kind of the way it is on Maplechase Drive.  Perhaps what the pediatrician meant to say that day was, "I don't know of any alternatives."  Soon he will though.  I believe that in Kay Kay's lifetime medical records will be computerized and stored in a central database, and I want hers to be as accurate as possible.  To that end, I've written a letter to the pediatrician explaining the course of action we took so that her record shows we didn't treat this case of strep with an antibiotic.  I want him to know there are alternatives.  The Papa says it seems like just a nice way of saying, "You're wrong."  Totally not my purpose.

But he was.

Typical.  Who's going to eat it first?