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One year!
Sunday, February 12, 2012
My little boy
DJ turned a year old on Thursday. It's hard to believe. We had a nice little celebration on Saturday with cupcakes and family and such. He's so quickly becoming a little boy!
Thursday, February 2, 2012
An adjustment
Turns out DJ has a peanut allergy.
I put PB on his toast Monday morning (cuz, hey, he's almost one), and when he was almost done scarfing it down he rubbed his left eye. Instant hives that merged together, almost swelling his eye shut. I washed his hands and face and brought up the keypad on my phone ready to call 911 in case he started having trouble breathing. I forgot that swelling lips is something to look for too. But he was babbling and playful.
It was 20 minutes before his doctor's office opened, so I put him on the floor to play, watching his face every second. In about a minute he suddenly turned to me fussing, so I scooped him up. A look of alarm came on his face, so I reached for my phone, but then he vomited A WHOLE LOT. As soon as we was done he went right back to vigorous babbling (and trying to play with the mess). I changed and rinsed him, and he seemed fine, not even rubbing at his hives.
The doctor saw him an hour later. By then he had more hives on his body and his ears were bright red, but the hives on his face had faded and he didn't have any swelling in his mouth or throat. The pedi said he would likely get more blossoms of hives and a bout of diarrhea over the next few days, but he hasn't had either.
He's taking prednisone for a few days to tamp down the immune sensitization (which has wrecked his night-time sleep, blurgh), and he now has an epi-pen at home and daycare. He could still experience anaphylaxis with a future exposure. He has about a 20% chance of outgrowing it by school age.
I was so, so sad for a couple days. My big, sturdy boy now seems so terribly vulnerable! I set up the Pack-n-Play in the living room and had him nap there so I could look at him. Monday it was all I could do to keep it together until he went to bed. I just wanted to cry and cry and cry.
J has been REALLY sick (not the flu, but an awful lot like it), so I've been doing the lion's share of baby care and everything else; sleep deprivation hasn't helped my emotional resilience.
Now, a couple days later, I've adjusted. His daycare is already peanut and tree-nut free, and working out the whole emergency plan with them left me very reassured. Lots of people have allergies and/or asthma. He's not a bubble boy. He's not any more likely to be allergic to other stuff; he already eats wheat, milk, eggs, and soy regularly. And I think this product, which my local supermarket carries, will fill the culinary void.
It's just a terrible reminder that I can't protect him from every threat. Not even now.
I put PB on his toast Monday morning (cuz, hey, he's almost one), and when he was almost done scarfing it down he rubbed his left eye. Instant hives that merged together, almost swelling his eye shut. I washed his hands and face and brought up the keypad on my phone ready to call 911 in case he started having trouble breathing. I forgot that swelling lips is something to look for too. But he was babbling and playful.
It was 20 minutes before his doctor's office opened, so I put him on the floor to play, watching his face every second. In about a minute he suddenly turned to me fussing, so I scooped him up. A look of alarm came on his face, so I reached for my phone, but then he vomited A WHOLE LOT. As soon as we was done he went right back to vigorous babbling (and trying to play with the mess). I changed and rinsed him, and he seemed fine, not even rubbing at his hives.
The doctor saw him an hour later. By then he had more hives on his body and his ears were bright red, but the hives on his face had faded and he didn't have any swelling in his mouth or throat. The pedi said he would likely get more blossoms of hives and a bout of diarrhea over the next few days, but he hasn't had either.
He's taking prednisone for a few days to tamp down the immune sensitization (which has wrecked his night-time sleep, blurgh), and he now has an epi-pen at home and daycare. He could still experience anaphylaxis with a future exposure. He has about a 20% chance of outgrowing it by school age.
I was so, so sad for a couple days. My big, sturdy boy now seems so terribly vulnerable! I set up the Pack-n-Play in the living room and had him nap there so I could look at him. Monday it was all I could do to keep it together until he went to bed. I just wanted to cry and cry and cry.
J has been REALLY sick (not the flu, but an awful lot like it), so I've been doing the lion's share of baby care and everything else; sleep deprivation hasn't helped my emotional resilience.
Now, a couple days later, I've adjusted. His daycare is already peanut and tree-nut free, and working out the whole emergency plan with them left me very reassured. Lots of people have allergies and/or asthma. He's not a bubble boy. He's not any more likely to be allergic to other stuff; he already eats wheat, milk, eggs, and soy regularly. And I think this product, which my local supermarket carries, will fill the culinary void.
It's just a terrible reminder that I can't protect him from every threat. Not even now.
Sunday, January 1, 2012
Four down, two to go; and also s'mores
Months of trying to conceive on our own before going back to the RE, that is.
Technically, the results for attempt #4 aren't in yet, but I'm looking ahead. Last month my period was a couple days later than I predicted, and I felt pregnant. I even peed on a stick like a dippy fertile. But, nope.
Christmas was fun, but DJ got sick (103 fever!) which prompted us to cut our visit to my folks' short. I was really sad about it, but it was the right move. He's better now, but if it persisted or turned into a respiratory problem I'd want to be in our own home and near his own pediatrician.
I've always enjoyed Christmas, and having DJ made it immensely better. The most emotional moment TOTALLY snuck up on me. I was wrapping presents one evening on the living room floor, half-watching some nature documentary. I wrapped up the set of blocks we got for DJ, chose a gift tag, wrote "To DJ from Mom & Dad", and immediately bubbled over with tears. I went snarfling into the kitchen where J was. I couldn't even talk; I just showed him the tag. Yeah, I did not see that coming.
In other DJ news... He's crawling all over the place now, pulling himself to standing on all sorts of rolling, rocking, unstable things, and he stood unassisted for about 3 seconds. He might have stood longer if I hadn't been yelling "LOOK LOOK LOOK" at J. His skills are growing hugely everyday. It's exciting, but it also seems to have caused a major sleep set-back. The last few nights he's woken up at 3 am wanting to play, and he has a harder time getting himself over that first brief awakening 30 minutes into a nap or bedtime.
Also, I think he's made his first joke. He sneezed during dinner and J and I both said, "bless you!" He giggled and then fake-sneezed a few times, giggling every time we humored him with a response. For about three days we could stop him from fussing during diaper changes by pretending to sneeze; it was great! Today, only sneezing puppets and stuffed animals did the trick.
Here he is rocking the Christmas sweater:
And to follow up on my last post, here are pictures of the homemade graham crackers, homemade marshmallows, and plated s'more kits.
Graham crackers are made a lot like pie crust -- mix dry ingredients, cut in butter, add wet ingredients and cold water a little at a time, and then roll it out between sheets of parchment. Then you score in lines and poke holes:
Baked! I thought the crispy outer parts were a little better than the breadier cracker parts, so I made a batch where I used a star-shaped cookie-cutter and placed them individually instead of scoring crackers. They were OK; too crispy. They had less flavor. And it was absurdly labor intensive. The cracker format was a lot better.
Here's the homemade marshmallow in the foil covered pan, dusted liberally with a blend of confectioners sugar and cornstarch. It sits like that for a day to firm up:
Then it's cut into individual rectangles, dusting any sticky spots with sugar. Homemade marshmallows really are good! Sweet and flavorful. And they're fairly easy to make:
I didn't photograph the chocolate bark. I made some with bacon and some marbleized (dark and white chocolate). Bark is so easy. I may never make truffles again! Here's one of the goody plates ready to go.
So now onto 2012! I hope it brings great things for all of us.
Technically, the results for attempt #4 aren't in yet, but I'm looking ahead. Last month my period was a couple days later than I predicted, and I felt pregnant. I even peed on a stick like a dippy fertile. But, nope.
Christmas was fun, but DJ got sick (103 fever!) which prompted us to cut our visit to my folks' short. I was really sad about it, but it was the right move. He's better now, but if it persisted or turned into a respiratory problem I'd want to be in our own home and near his own pediatrician.
I've always enjoyed Christmas, and having DJ made it immensely better. The most emotional moment TOTALLY snuck up on me. I was wrapping presents one evening on the living room floor, half-watching some nature documentary. I wrapped up the set of blocks we got for DJ, chose a gift tag, wrote "To DJ from Mom & Dad", and immediately bubbled over with tears. I went snarfling into the kitchen where J was. I couldn't even talk; I just showed him the tag. Yeah, I did not see that coming.
In other DJ news... He's crawling all over the place now, pulling himself to standing on all sorts of rolling, rocking, unstable things, and he stood unassisted for about 3 seconds. He might have stood longer if I hadn't been yelling "LOOK LOOK LOOK" at J. His skills are growing hugely everyday. It's exciting, but it also seems to have caused a major sleep set-back. The last few nights he's woken up at 3 am wanting to play, and he has a harder time getting himself over that first brief awakening 30 minutes into a nap or bedtime.
Also, I think he's made his first joke. He sneezed during dinner and J and I both said, "bless you!" He giggled and then fake-sneezed a few times, giggling every time we humored him with a response. For about three days we could stop him from fussing during diaper changes by pretending to sneeze; it was great! Today, only sneezing puppets and stuffed animals did the trick.
Here he is rocking the Christmas sweater:
And to follow up on my last post, here are pictures of the homemade graham crackers, homemade marshmallows, and plated s'more kits.
Graham crackers are made a lot like pie crust -- mix dry ingredients, cut in butter, add wet ingredients and cold water a little at a time, and then roll it out between sheets of parchment. Then you score in lines and poke holes:
Baked! I thought the crispy outer parts were a little better than the breadier cracker parts, so I made a batch where I used a star-shaped cookie-cutter and placed them individually instead of scoring crackers. They were OK; too crispy. They had less flavor. And it was absurdly labor intensive. The cracker format was a lot better.
Here's the homemade marshmallow in the foil covered pan, dusted liberally with a blend of confectioners sugar and cornstarch. It sits like that for a day to firm up:
Then it's cut into individual rectangles, dusting any sticky spots with sugar. Homemade marshmallows really are good! Sweet and flavorful. And they're fairly easy to make:
I didn't photograph the chocolate bark. I made some with bacon and some marbleized (dark and white chocolate). Bark is so easy. I may never make truffles again! Here's one of the goody plates ready to go.
So now onto 2012! I hope it brings great things for all of us.
Saturday, December 10, 2011
Doing Christmas
With the help of one of my favorite food writers I've figured out what to make for friends-and-neighbors treats this year. Homemade smores parts:
And I've always dug Christmas, but he's made Christmas a lot more fun too. So being able to do more for Christmas -- instead of furiously grading and dealing with plagiarists and other screwballs right up until Christmas eve -- is especially sweet.
- Homemade graham crackers
- Homemade marshmallows
- Chocolate bark (some studded with bits of dried cherry, and some with bacon)
And I've always dug Christmas, but he's made Christmas a lot more fun too. So being able to do more for Christmas -- instead of furiously grading and dealing with plagiarists and other screwballs right up until Christmas eve -- is especially sweet.
Sunday, December 4, 2011
Class privilege
Few things make me realize how fortunate I am as vividly as going grocery shopping. I had DJ with me last Friday. We drove over (though it's only a little over a mile away). DJ is still charmingly fascinated by all the goings on in the supermarket; I may not bring him so often when he isn't dazzled into tranquility.
I frequently imagine trying to make that trip as a single parent after a long day at work, with multiple would-up kids in tow, dangerously close to dinnertime, nervously adding up the cost of my items. Then I imagine doing all that by bus or on foot, which also means making the trip a lot more often. It's exhausting to think about.
I grew up in a rural working class family and spent all my higher-ed years surrounded by people who had money. As an undergrad, I didn't know any other students who worked as many hours as I did, and as a grad student I only knew one other who, like me, was actually living on her grad student stipend. It just became natural to me that I just couldn't do what, seemingly, everyone else did, like party and live in apartments without roommates. And I never expected that to change.
I got my first one-year salaried gig eight years ago, followed by the tenure-track one I have now, and it is still astounding to me how easy I have it; salaried, partnered, housed, insured. The single working-class mom of my imagination obviously adores her kids just as much as I do mine; I'm just perpetually struck by how few genuine stressors I have to face, compared to her, and how easy that makes it to just enjoy my family every day. That's the real privilege of class.
I did a lot to help myself get to this point, and I benefit from having a genuine dislike of shopping (yay!), but plenty of other people have worked just as hard as I have but haven't had the same privileges and lucky breaks. I could just as easily be living a life where I'm bone-tired at the end of every day, making the huge effort to have a couple reasonably pleasant evening hours before packing the kids off to bed and then fretting over how to pay for the brake job I need. Multiple times a day, every day, I'm just awed to be where I am.
Though, I'll probably have to make a special effort to remember this when I'm no longer on sabbatic, working four six-hour days a week from home.
I frequently imagine trying to make that trip as a single parent after a long day at work, with multiple would-up kids in tow, dangerously close to dinnertime, nervously adding up the cost of my items. Then I imagine doing all that by bus or on foot, which also means making the trip a lot more often. It's exhausting to think about.
I grew up in a rural working class family and spent all my higher-ed years surrounded by people who had money. As an undergrad, I didn't know any other students who worked as many hours as I did, and as a grad student I only knew one other who, like me, was actually living on her grad student stipend. It just became natural to me that I just couldn't do what, seemingly, everyone else did, like party and live in apartments without roommates. And I never expected that to change.
I got my first one-year salaried gig eight years ago, followed by the tenure-track one I have now, and it is still astounding to me how easy I have it; salaried, partnered, housed, insured. The single working-class mom of my imagination obviously adores her kids just as much as I do mine; I'm just perpetually struck by how few genuine stressors I have to face, compared to her, and how easy that makes it to just enjoy my family every day. That's the real privilege of class.
I did a lot to help myself get to this point, and I benefit from having a genuine dislike of shopping (yay!), but plenty of other people have worked just as hard as I have but haven't had the same privileges and lucky breaks. I could just as easily be living a life where I'm bone-tired at the end of every day, making the huge effort to have a couple reasonably pleasant evening hours before packing the kids off to bed and then fretting over how to pay for the brake job I need. Multiple times a day, every day, I'm just awed to be where I am.
Though, I'll probably have to make a special effort to remember this when I'm no longer on sabbatic, working four six-hour days a week from home.
Tuesday, November 29, 2011
Thrown over for a younger woman
When my six-year-old niece arrived at my folks' house for Thanksgiving, she immediately rushed over to DJ to his HUGE delight. She gave him his bottle, and then the three of us settled down on the floor for playtime.
A little while later, she got up and scampered away for something, and DJ started crying hard even though I was RIGHT THERE.
And so it begins.
A little while later, she got up and scampered away for something, and DJ started crying hard even though I was RIGHT THERE.
And so it begins.
Sunday, November 6, 2011
Firsts and lasts
Firsts arrive like a thunderstorm; lasts are unheralded. Firsts are the life of the party; lasts are the wallflowers.
I seem to notice every little first. Like, the other day I saw you move one object (a book) to get at another object (a pacifier) underneath (which, of course, makes you a genius). And we recently had our first (rather messy) raspberry "conversation."
But lasts escape me. When was the last time you took a bath in the kitchen sink? When was the last time we nursed? Will I bring you back to bed with me in the pre-dawn hours anymore? Will I bounce you to sleep ever again? How many more times will you take your bottle wrapped in the circle of my arm and neck, while I hold the bottle and you hold my thumb?
I seem to notice every little first. Like, the other day I saw you move one object (a book) to get at another object (a pacifier) underneath (which, of course, makes you a genius). And we recently had our first (rather messy) raspberry "conversation."
But lasts escape me. When was the last time you took a bath in the kitchen sink? When was the last time we nursed? Will I bring you back to bed with me in the pre-dawn hours anymore? Will I bounce you to sleep ever again? How many more times will you take your bottle wrapped in the circle of my arm and neck, while I hold the bottle and you hold my thumb?
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