Anta! anta! anta…an…AHHHHHHHH!!!!!
Quick! Take the picture – Take the picture – Take the picture!
Emma’s Christmas Bibbit.
I think there are more tiara’s in our house then you would find on the first floor of Buckingham Palace.
CHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!
Over the past couple weeks we have been weaning the littlest mermaid off of middle-of-the-night nursing. In this regard I get a healthier dose of something I am not accustomed to; waking up frequently to calm a crying baby. It used to be that I didn’t have the equipment to calm her and now it is rather BECAUSE I don’t have the equipment that I get my just reward.
It of course gets worse before it gets better and well…that pretty much means that Emma is weaning us off of middle-of-the-night sleeping. It is relatively short lived though, when compared to the last 21 months of sleep deprivation. I will take my lumps.
So, last night was a landmark night and at 5:26 AM The Mommy marked it clearly;
Wow! Emma hasn’t woken up all night.
About 8.34 seconds later she woke up.
You might amaze, as I did, and reflect on the wonder of the absolute synchronicity between mother and child, between offspring and caregiver; ahh the glorious miracle of it all. You might think that was the point of my sharing this with you.
You would be wrong.
My immediate thoughts this morning were along those lines. But the true awe inspiring event of this morning was dulled by my aforementioned ‘just rewards’ and ‘lumps’. Once I cleared my head I realized that the real news here, the real story, is why…WHY! on EARTH! would you wake me up an hour before my torture device alarm to inform me that Emma has FINALLY! slept the night through.
WHyyyyyyyyyyyyyyeeeeeeeee!?
A little background is in order:
Before Christmas, before we all got sick for the third time in a row, the eldest mermaid was being a pill. Everything was drama, tears, and attitude
One night, Ang was getting ready for an appointment, hurried to make a spinach and ravioli pasta dinner and then hurried off.
No sooner had she walked out the door when I served up the pasta and approached the table with it.
I don’t want that!
Oh Really? Fine
And I took it away. I was angry at the attitude so I lowered myself to her level and asked, in my best 5 year old, what SHE might like to eat?
Cereal.
Ok. But since you aren’t going to eat the food I am serving you that Mommy made, YOU are going to have to make it ALL yourself.
[happily] Okay
Now I was silently cursing my lack of foresight as I realized she is likely capable of pulling it off…she was.
There were 2 servings of krispies on the floor and table, no milk anywhere but the bowl, and a somewhat smug 5 year old in her chair, eating her ‘dinner’. Thinking I once again gained the upper hand I coolly explained,
Just making your own dinner isn’t all you have to do you know?
[meekly] What do I have to do?
You will have to clean up your bowl, wash it and the spoon and the glass and clean the table and the floor ALL by yourself. [ha]
Okay…and [now with some indignation] I’ll clean ALL the dishes. [ha HA]
Done! [ha HA HA!]
Now we enter the moral of the story which is; never think you have the upper hand.
Abby proceeded to finish two bowls of cereal and moved on to tackle the dishes. In spite of never fully mastering the art of the lesson this time she outdid herself with her dedication to finishing the job.
Quality control notwithstanding, she powered through every dish, pot, pan, glass, plate, and fork over the course of the next 90 minutes. Including a pot so big that, when full, it was probably 1/2 her weight.
The kicker? She did it all while happily singing…
It’s a hard knock life…for us.
It’s a hard knock life…for us.
[ha HA HA! HAAA!!]
The younger mermaid is really figuring things out now and we are feeling the pressure.
A couple weeks ago she was obviously disappointed to hear that her sister had eaten the remainder of a cookie that was abandoned nearly an hour before but still considered ‘mine’.
ooie
You want your cookie?
yeah
Ohhhh, honey, Abby ate it. It’s gone.
oh
She paused to consider the eldest mermaid for a moment or two and then approached her with an uncommon determination; she grabbed for Abby’s belly and said very clearly
back!
Considering we have been to Childrens Hospital now about five times in five years, I can just about start a tab running at the front desk. I think we have been in every room in the ER and we know the drill.
Abby knew that there were snacks, I knew where they were.
Abby knew there were movies on the TV, I pretty much remembered the channels.
Abby even recalled that they give patients a teddy bear, and being so prepared, sweet talked the nurse into one for herself before they delivered one for Emma.
Sunday night, Ang said, rightly and authoritatively
Something’s wrong.
Indeed it was. Emma had a respiratory infection, caused by respiratory syncytial virus a.k.a. RSV. It was likely her second infection in a row, and it had triggered asthmatic symptoms causing her much extra work while her lung capacity was reduced to about 30-40%. What made it difficult, at first, to conclude that something was wrong was her unusual happiness. She had a 103°F fever, enough phlegm to choke a horse, and still she smiled and laughed…until she coughed…and then she vomited…for the fourth night in a row…AND THEN Mommy made the aforementioned proclamation.
So, we took our semi-annual family trip to Sand Point. Spent five hours in the ER while Emma revolted at the mere hint of a face mask; much crying, then coughing, and…you know the rest.
After 2 hours on a nebulizer she showed good signs of improvement but not enough to give the supervising ER doctor a warm fuzzy feeling so she was admitted. Oh yeah, and that pretty much meant Mommy was admitted too.
In a nutshell, that meant Abby was at Gramma Nana’s that night at 11:30 The Daddy was asleep by 02:00 and The Mommy didn’t sleep at all while she held an oxygen tube, out of striking range, at three inches to ensure oxygen saturation above the level of alarm.
The next day, a short shift change, a short nap for the Mommy, and incremental improvement for a very tired little girl, the medical staff still insisted that Emma be off of her oxygen-crutch for a full 12 hours before going home. It sounded like they were talking sense; Childrens Hospital, for the most part deals in exceedingly good sense and my experience has shown that they perform especially well.
At this point the little mermaid pointed at the door and said
Ohme [Home]
We sympathized with her and yet the monitors remained.
That night the monitors were removed, and the next day she was declared ‘a discharge’ at 13:00. Five hours later the nurse printed out the first and last paperwork form detailing her medicines, got it utterly wrong*, and we bolted out of that cage like a family of relocated black bear. A little groggy at first but determined to put some distance between the cage and our numb hind ends.
After all that, we won’t be sure that Emma doesn’t have chronic asthma for a couple of years but we do know she has a propensity for asthmatic reactions to RSV that can be life threatening. We don’t know of any other triggers as yet but we are certainly now a bit more sensitive to the signs.
She may try to delete this when she is 15 but she is still really cute in that gown.
* I did say that ‘for the MOST part’ they deal in good sense. This guy was a piece of work. I didn’t see it all but I saw enough to know that he wasn’t gonna get any tip from me.
So, this phrase has been kept alive by me and my aunt for a number of years and is usually reserved as the vivacious response to the query “Buffalo Beat Miami?”
Think Steve Martin and Saturday Night Live of the early 80’s. ’nuff said.
But now, it might be applied to something a little more tangible; namely everyone in our quartet of a family.
Currently all three Mermaids are ‘under the sea’ and I have only just emerged from a weeklong fever. The current household epidemic is of a different nature and since I am unable to hold my breath at night suffice it to say that I have seen my future and it isn’t pretty.
We have missed family gatherings, dance recitals, work days, and much more starting with Thanksgiving.
Our traditional Christmas delights (self made DVD’s and candy) will most certainly become January reviews due to their long lead time and I am frankly amazed we were able to get pictures taken at all. They too will be post-holiday arrivals.
Not much more than that to say really, other than I hope you and yours have remained, and will continue to remain, healthy this holiday.
The eldest mermaid has seemed to bypass many of the malapropisms that commonly accompany anyone learning a language.
Today she proved there are more out there.
While playing Polly Pockets today she described to me that a yellow haired Polly Pocket was indeed Snow White.
She just wants these other clothes on even though she doesn’t have black hair…she just dialed it golden.”
Later, as she often does, Abby was re-enacting parts of a movie with the younger mermaid. This time it was Aquamarine (what else but a mermaid movie.) There is a scene in which the protagonist is told that in order to get the male love interests attention she should make him feel good about himself (fluff his ego) and then leave (retreat). He is SURE to follow after that.
Emma! Just fluff and retreat.
[pause]
Fluff and retreat.
[another shorter pause]
Flufficito and retreat
I wasn’t aware that she was learning Spanish at all.
So, I intro’ed the last post with a comment about shorter hair so here is a little retrospective of the past four days.
First I would like to direct you to the best shots of the bunch I think taken by BopOp and posted on his blog RentonKayaker.
Then we see about the most blatant indication of the length of The Blonde Mermaid, taken ironically the night before she had it cut.
Next we find her trusty sidekick (so far).
On to the party, er, uh, the NEXT party. The cake you can see was most elegant. One word of warning, don’t expect a common bite of cake to be the same when that bite includes blueberry jello.
Finally, the big reveal, the haircut.
Queen for a day.
And then, the after party, where Emma really rocked.
Abby got her haircut today. Go figure.
She adds another year to her repertoire and suddenly she gets to start making decisions?
She looks very grown up by the way.
We asked her many times in many ways and she insisted, she wanted it cut short because of “the hassle” and because she wanted to “look like Bella”. I think she may honestly tell a stranger someday that her name IS Bella. I don’t know where she gets that.
She wanted it so bad that she was utterly happy to have eight inches of hair cut off today and she only started to cry when the stylist started to put curls into it.
I wanted it STRAIGHHHHHHHhht!
I understand that the stylist couldn’t get the straightener out fast enough. Smart girl that she is, she spoke up after only one 1/2 curl.
Despite all that, I still have more promises to keep. When I said I would deliver on The Mermaids promise, I said I would deliver. Now I have; in spades.
Let’s get this show on the road.
I have promised Mermaid pictures and when I promise, I deliver…sometimes just a little later. But better late than, I always say; or at least I say now.
Without further ado, The Mermaids.
We start with a Princess Appetizer, Snow White and Cinderella.
Move on to the first day of school, which I swore I already released but apparently not. She’s got the look.
Served in the third course we find Belle and Alice, thanks Gramma Nana.
Now we see someone has skipped all the way to desert and has the devilish smile to prove it.
Aha, the Main Course is about to come out, but wait, a pumpkin Sorbet.
Ahhh, the masterwork of The Great Sorbini!
And yes, we have tone and of course The Mermaid and The Bibbit.
blief 