One year ago

At this time, one year ago, I was resting comfortably with my epidural.

My first contraction came at 3:34am, I decided it was "the real thing" and woke Steve up at 4:45, and we arrived at the hospital at 6. I was already 6cm, and received my epidural at 6:30am.

I rested in bed, playing Sudoku and texting friends letting them know that my Christmas baby was on his way!

Poor Logan

Why do my kids always seem to get really sick right around their birthday?

My first clue that Logan might be coming down with something came on Tuesday morning, when he took a 3 hour nap. He would have slept longer, but I woke him up because I was getting a little nervous. He didn't have a fever... yet. He was happy as ever all day, but seemed to get very fussy right around 5pm. He even put his head down on my shoulder and fell asleep - I can't even remember the last time that happened. He hasn't napped on me like that since he was a newborn.

By 6:00, his fever was close to 100. For someone who's never had a fever before, that's high. I gave him some Tylenol, which he promptly brought right back up, along with his dinner (which, fortunately, was just yogurt, so it was fruity-smelling puke. Yum.) and took him right up to bed. I'm pretty sure he fell asleep before I was out of the room. Poor thing.

He was miserable all day Wednesday (yesterday). In addition to the 3 naps he took in his crib, he took at least 5 catnaps on me, with his little head on my shoulder. Is it terrible of me to say that I secretly enjoyed it? I mean, Logan is snuggly in general, but not like this. I felt closer to him than I have in a long time.

He did have two "happy" periods yesterday, which were truly enjoyable - he was his normal, happy self, playing with his toys and Ben. It was amazing to see, though, how quickly he deteriorated back to a miserable little lump who just wanted to be held.

In the evening, his fever spiked up to 102.7. When he woke up at 3am, it was 103. He had the chills. I was terrified, and thought I'd have to call 911 because he was having a febrile seizure. Luckily he calmed down a bit after a dose of Tylenol and a cuddle with me in the glider.

This morning I took him to the doctor while Ben was at school. I told the doctor that my guess was Roseola, as Ben had it last week. For some reason, the doctor really wanted to rule out a urinary tract infection. She said we could either do the test, which consisted of a catheter being inserted into Logan's urethra (ureter? I don't know.), drawing a urine sample to be sent to a lab. She said that it would be less painful than drawing blood. She said we could hold off a day if I wanted to, but I'd have to bring him back tomorrow if his fever did not go down. Honestly, the prospect of schlepping both Ben and Logan to the doctor tomorrow, when we're supposed to get blanketed in 6-10 inches of snow, was so not appealing... so I opted to do the procedure right then and there. The doctor was thrilled, I was terrified.

The whole thing was pretty dreadful. I had to hold Logan down, which he hates. Actually, "hold" is the wrong word. "Pin" is more fitting - I leaned my whole upper body down over him, gripping his forearms with my hands, and holding his legs open and back up by his sides with my right arm. What a terrible position for him to have to be in. He squirmed mightily when the catheter was inserted, screamed the entire time, and writhed again when it was withdrawn. The poor thing just wanted to be picked up and cuddled afterwards.

Ugh. I have a friend who has to do that regularly with her two-year-old daughter. She has always said that it's traumatic - now I really understand what she means.

Anyway... it's my hope that Logan's fever gets better over the next few days and that he eventually develops the red pin-dot rash of Roseola. God knows the poor thing doesn't need any more traumatic trips to the doctor!

It's not even 9am...

And I'm already exhausted from today. I just want to put the boys in their rooms, where I know they'll be safe, then crawl into bed and pull the covers over my head and just... I don't know - sleep, or cry, or relax, or something else.

Already today, I've said "no" to Ben about 200 times, peeled Ben off of Logan because he was playing too rough, put all of the clean sippy cups back into the sippy cup drawer after the boys emptied it, poured Ben a second cup of milk because the cup I put the first one in wasn't the "right" one, and most recently wondered if I should take Logan to the ER when he got a nose bleed after falling onto the plastic bin that holds blocks.

Argh... is it 5:00 yet?

Fall

No, this is not a post about how lovely the air smells this time of year, or the wonderful family celebrations to be had in November, or how the trees go so quickly from lush and thick and green to spindly and twiggy and stark in the seeming blink of an eye.

No... unfortunately it's about a different kind of fall - the kind I had today, down the 5 or so steps that lead to the garage, while I was holding Logan. Awesome!

I actually have no idea how it happened. I must have made the exact same trip - no pun intended - down the stairs at least a hundred times since we've moved into the house. Logan goes in my left arm, my purse in my right, and we walk down the stairs. Easy peasy.

But today something happened on either the last stair or the ground and the next thing I knew Logan and I were flying through the air. I somehow managed to prevent Logan's poor little head from smashing into the concrete floor of the garage - he just skimmed it. It seems like I mostly landed on my knees, with my feet under me, but my top half kept going forward when I hit the ground. That's what made Logan's head almost hit the floor. Ugh.

It was awful. I had to actually sit there, in the position I landed in, still holding Logan, for a few minutes to make sure we were both okay and regain my composure before I felt like I could stand up. Once I was pretty sure that neither of us had broken any bones or needed stitches or had concussions, I sat Logan down on the floor and got up. My knees and left ankle were sore, but not seriously hurt.

What an ordeal! My knees still ache and I've got some good bruises developing. I have no idea how I didn't sprain my left ankle, as it was twisted under me when I landed.

As I was examing myself, I realized that the left knee of my jeans had torn. This is going to sound so superficial, especially in light of the post I wrote last night about rich people and homeless people and the idea of taking things for granted, but I was really sad when I saw my jeans were torn. They're not my favorite jeans, but they're probably my most expensive ones, and this is only the second or third time I've worn them. I'm not upset that the jeans themselves are torn, I'm upset because I wasted money on jeans that are now torn. Does that make sense?

Anyway, here are some pictures from the crime scene -

That's the skid mark where my left knee hit the floor and then skidded forward. It's blue, from the aforementioned pricey jeans. I wonder if the value of my house just went up, because the garage floor now has expensive jean residue on it?


That's the hole in my jeans. I couldn't decide which picture made the hole look more impressive so I included both. :)

Update on the boys

I realized earlier today that it's been a while since I gave an update on the boys' new milestones and interesting new... um... quirks. Well, here you go -

Logan-
He learned how to crawl up the entire flight of stairs a few weeks ago
We installed baby gates blocking the entrance to the foyer shortly thereafter :)
He can, using someone or something to get into a standing position, stand by himself for at least 30 seconds
Yesterday he took his first step! Hooray!
He can say uh-oh, no no, hi, and hello

Ben-
He is DEEPLY immersed in the terrible twos
He spends his entire day doing the exact OPPOSITE of what I ask
He's still using three word sentences, which are adorable
His voice can get so unbelievably high-pitched that it makes my ears and throat hurt, and I swear the neighborhood dogs can hear him

Who is here?

Who is visiting my blog?! I added the little counter thingie to see if anyone besides me reads this... and it seems that they do! Although no one leaves comments :( So, who is here??

The Secret Millionaire

Is anyone else watching this show tonight? The premise is that they take a multi-millionaire and have him/her live below the poverty line for 3 days. At the end of the 3 days, they say, "Surprise! I'm a multi-millionaire!" and give at least 100 grand to whomever they choose - either the person who takes them in for a night, the formerly homeless lady who gave them a job for a day, or the family who lived out of their car.

I know it kind of exploits people in these communities, but it is refreshing to see a show where the needy are rewarded, instead of a show based on whoever has the biggest boobies and is the biggest slut wins a million dollars.

Big Boy

While we were in VA for the holiday, the boys and either Steve or I slept in a king-size mattress that was directly on the floor. Each night, Steve would lie down on the bed first with Ben, and when Ben was asleep I'd go down and lie with Logan until Logan was asleep. We discovered this was the best way to deal with bedtime after the shenanigans of the first night's attempt at putting them down at the same time - logically, all they wanted to do was play with each other.

On our last night, when Steve was lying down with Ben, Ben apparently kicked Steve out of bed, saying, "Night night, Daddy. Time for bed." Steve joined me and Logan and the rest of the Burke Freckles crew and checked on Ben every few minutes. We were certain he'd get out of bed and look for the flashlight (one of his favorite toys) or play beeper (at alternate times his phone or camera) or one of the other toys we'd taken with us. We were shocked when he stayed in bed, and put himself to sleep within 20 minutes.

A side note - ever since our move, Ben has had a hard time going to sleep, both at bed time and nap time. He hasn't had a problem with this since he was 9 weeks old - when he started sleeping through the night (other than the time when he was 6 months old and I sleep-trained him because I was fed up with walking a few miles between my bedroom and his bedroom to help him find his paci about 10 times each night). I can count on one hand the number of times he hasn't cried when we first put him into the crib since we've been in the new house. And every single night he's cried at some point thereafter. It's not been pleasant, for any of us. We know something's wrong, but we just don't know what.

That last night on the big bed was the only night that he hasn't cried at all when going to sleep. (Well, other than the times that we've lied down with him, but who can blame him?)

So yesterday I thought, "Maybe he doesn't like being in his crib anymore and it's time for him to be in a big boy bed."

We put a protective layer of cushy pillows on the floor next to the crib... just in case. It's funny, though - one of the reasons I had this idea is because Ben seems to be a pretty "still" sleeper - his head is on the pillow all night, and his body is in a straight line down the crib. That's exactly how I sleep, funnily. I always joke to Steve that making my side of the bed is so easy because I'm so still at night - I just need to pull the covers back and the bed is made. Making his side of the bed, however, is like a 10 minute ordeal. The fitted sheet is all but off the mattress, there are a hundred pillows, all with the covers half off and half are by his feet, the flat sheet is a mess... you get the idea.

Anyway... we'll see how it goes. This is a huge step for us! Our little boy is growing up :)