Bryan noticed that Camilla's back is covered with mosquito bites, and I hypothesized that they might not have been caused by mosquitoes, especially since they appeared one morning. "I think an S-P-I-D-E-R might have gotten under her shirt in the night," I said, spelling because I didn't want to freak her out.
She was curious. "What's an S-P-E-D-D-E-R?"
Thinking fast, I said, "A speeder. Speeders are people who go fast."
And Bryan and I exchanged a grin, because: way to confuse our child, right? Parents of the Year, right here.
Camilla furrowed her brow for a moment, then solved the problem. "They must be really tiny people!"
Blaise welcomed me to consciousness this morning by projectile-vomiting all over the bathroom, while I was brushing my teeth. Fun!
But baby constitutions are crazy. It is miraculous how fast Blaise recovered. At 9:00 he threw up until there was nothing left in his stomach. At 9:20 and 9:40 he was throwing up his own saliva. (This was how I knew it had to be a bug instead of a fluke puke like Camilla often does.) He napped a little then. At 10:40 I gave him a sip of water, which did not stay down.
He whimpered and clung and fell asleep again on my lap. I put him in bed and he slept until almost noon, at which point I heard "Mama!" over the baby monitor. When I went in, he pointed at my chest (as he does) and said clearly "Da!" which is his word for nursing. I let him nurse briefly, and the milk stayed down for ten minutes, so I let him have a full feeding. That stayed down too. By about 3:00 he was eating food again, and when we went to Qdoba for dinner he totally downed nachos, quesadilla, and a couple bites of brownie with no ill effects.
Have you ever heard of a kid getting over a stomach bug so quickly? I was SHOCKED.
I've been thinking a lot about diet and exercise lately. I've never seriously struggled with my weight (although I do struggle with gluttony) and I'm happy, in general, with my size - at least when I haven't been overeating recently and my clothes are fitting. But my fitness level: yikes! Not so happy there.
In all honesty, I've never been so interested in exercise. When I read blog posts or tweets about it, I tend to skim (sorry, runners!) even if it's a blogger I love. My sister Miriel is all nutty about exercise, and when she talks about it, I feel the same way I do when people rave about white chocolate or The Red Tent. I'm like: really? That's what gets you excited? Good for you, but I just don't see it.
However, as my sister Tirienne has been living with us over the past 11 months, she's discovered a love of biking and ballroom dancing, and I've watched her go from a couch potato (like me) to being all fit and stuff. She looks better, yes, but more importantly she seems to feel better. I want that.
I know about how good exercise is for mental health, and physical health, and I want to feel strong and fit instead of panting when we walk up a hill. But it's so hard to get motivated, you know? I have the T-Tapp workout on DVD and I like to do it, so it's not even like I need to find an exercise that works for me, you know? I just have to get myself off the couch.
Which I will do. Tomorrow. Or maybe Monday.
Can you see why this will never be a fitness blog?
So we're all in agreement that parenting an almost-four-year-old is frustrating and complicated, right? I love my (sweet, smart, beautiful, kind, generous, funny) little girl SO MUCH, and yet every single day there is at least one moment where I can HEAR my pulse in my ears because of something she does.
I wrote about it over at F&F, and you should all go read, because the comments section on that post made me really happy. (Which I needed, over there.) It's so many moms commiserating and supporting each other, and it is awesome.
We're not alone. Woot! (as my youngest brother would say. I'm not even sure what it means, really. I'm so not hip.)
BlogHer is going on this weekend, obviously, but more importantly in my world, so is the Catholic New Media Celebration. I originally planned to be in Boston for it, but in June, when it became plane-ticket crunch-time, I decided not to go after all because I realized that Blaise would not be sufficiently weaned, and that the trip would be painful (in more ways than one) for all of us.
I am still going to be at The Blathering, though. That one is non-negotiable. I am counting down until November and if the baby isn't weaned by then, we'll just have to punt. He can live through two days with his dad, I'm sure. I wouldn't miss my very first Blathering if you paid me.
It turns out to be good that I'm not in Boston this weekend, not only because of the mini-stomach-bug (which I am PRAYING doesn't hit anyone else in the household) but because Bryan is flying out on Sunday for a five-night-long business trip on the West Coast. He will then be home for a week and a half and fly out again on August 22nd (the day before my birthday) for another five nights. Business Trip Fest 2010 ends with a NINE-night trip in September. Because I am nerdy and counting things helps me go to sleep at night, I counted: out of 42 nights, he'll be gone for 19.
There are mitigating factors, fortunately. Tirienne lives with us, of course, and Miriel will be staying with us this coming week, and there is a good chance that Lauren and my adorable godson Nate will come and stay in September.
Plus, my children, as much as they might frustrate me, are in a pretty good stage right now. They're cute and funny and they play together. Much better than last summer, when Blaise was a baby and Bryan's travel almost sent me into a depression. It'll be okay.
Also, there is this:
Speaking of babies, my sister Branwen is due to have hers any time now. She's 38 weeks, and she's given birth at 35w4d and 41w1d, so it could be any time now. Or not. I know she's hoping it's soon! Think happy, labor-y thoughts for her, will you?
Branwen and I were talking about the newborn stage yesterday. You know how people always say that the hard stuff fades, and you just remember the good, and that's what makes people want to have another baby? That is so not true for me. In fact, the opposite: I can't remember the good parts of having a newborn. I just remember the hard stuff.
Granted, we had two rawwwther difficult experiences, what with Miss Colicky Screams-a-Lot and Master RSV-Reflux-Boy. (Although, with the exception of Blaise's hospitalization, I don't think of them as anything out of the ordinary.) But mostly I think I'm just not a newborn person. My sister wants to have lots of babies but skip pregnancy. I, personally, would like to order up a bunch of one-year-olds (provided I could ensure that bonding had happened properly).
Read more quick takes here. I'm sure hardly any of them are as scatterbrained as mine.