spatial

The minivan has been a lovely addition to our lives, and we have already gotten a lot of use out of it, despite its ostensible purchase for the purpose of accommodating another child. I am still, however, not great at judging how much room its snout takes up, so parking remains an adventure. I have not actually hit anything yet, instead erring on the side of embarrassing 12-point adjustments.

Also embarrassing are the 12-point turns required to park my own self. This evening I accidentally turned on the stove burner--not just the gas, an actual flame--with my belly. In the upstairs of our house Aaron and I have to coordinate our entrances/exits from rooms so as to avoid logjams.

Dylan, on the other hand, has gotten some kind of grasp of where things are in space. They have a computer at school and she can suddenly use the mouse, leading to endless pleading to play (mind numbing) games on the Sesame Street website. They are also doing handwriting(!) practice with them. The first time she brought home a sheet full of scribbles on "a" outlines I laughed. Then the next week when she brought home one for "b" (they allow them to learn the letters even if you don't pay the extra money) I noticed she was actually starting to approximate at least a circle, if not an actual letter. Aaron thinks she will be good at D's and O's. And! Just for the sake of posting some pictures around here, I will also tell you that she can now catch a ball. Occasionally.

Mish Mash

The last thing we had to do for my rotation was read The Diving Bell and the Butterfly. I had heard of it before, and I vaguely knew it was written by a guy who could only communicate by blinking his left eye, but then you read it and the whole time you're reading it's like aaaah this was written by a guy who could only communicate by blinking his left eye. It's worth reading, although I can't recommend following it up with a discussion group with 30 medical students. The discussion tends towards the...concrete.

******

Dylan currently measures time in naps (where naps = naps OR overnight, try to stay with me). Any statement about something we have planned for any time in the future will be followed by the question, "After this nap?" It sorts of breaks down as a system once you get three naps out or so. It's fun to have her be able to look forward to stuff, although we have gotten wise about mentioning things that are too much fun too far ahead of time because it will only lead to impatience and ultimately PAIN FROM THE WHINING STOP ASKING BECAUSE THAT'S NOT HAPPENING FOR ANOTHER WEEK WHICH IS LIKE 15 NAPS.

Also, she snorts when you get her laughing. I highly recommend it.

******

I am doing that thing where when you suddenly have more time you become paralyzed by having too many options about how to spend it. The sugar issue has at least removed cookies, the baking and eating of as a choice, but it's not really helping. Stay tuned to see if I self-destruct.

1001 Posts

Remember that time when I flunked all the pregnancy glucose lab tests? And then I didn't mention it again for a month? Mysterious, I know. The glamorous truth is that even though I didn't actually get diagnosed with gestational diabetes, no one else seemed to make that differentiation and I promptly ended up at the nutritionist. I have been testing my blood sugar four times a day ever since and trying to be good about following my diet, which has now crossed over into the ridiculous realm of low-carb vegetarian. I hadn't googled that phrase until today, but for you, readers, I have now learned that there is a book by that name and any number of websites that could help me achieve my weight-loss goals by avoiding both animal products and carbohydrates.

We went out to dinner with some friends who actually thought I had inexplicably embarked on an odd diet mid-pregnancy until they saw me checking my glucose after the meal. It was tricky at first to figure out how to eat enough calories without eating too many carbs. I now know the answer: fistfuls of cheese, cashews, and avocado. And 85% dark chocolate works for my ongoing chocolate needs. Unfortunately, Aaron now has another reason to shoo me away when I try to sneak sips of his beer.

The testing stuff is all fancy and it hardly hurts at all, plus I got to make another spreadsheet. Dylan thinks it's fun watching me. She has, helpfully, been unfailingly zealous in pointing out that I don't get to eat treats. Actually, she has been quite helpful lately as I have descended into some kind of semi-functional pregnancy brainfog. She is like a little external hard drive for me. Particularly if external hard drives had moods. Moods that were limited to "cranky" for a solid month.

Last time I was pregnant we went into the hospital with a plan to reunite me with a nice beer within moments of delivery. I didn't actually want one when the time came, but it's the thought that counts, right? This time I would like a large serving of french fries on a bed of mashed potatoes, with a side of milkshake.

Done.

I finished the last of my makeup shifts yesterday. I'm not officially done with this school year until I finish the next week of lectures, but I've done all the clinical time. It would probably be bad form to say on the Internet that I have mentally checked out, so...yeah. I've managed to wear myself out entirely trying to finish up, and it's hard to catch up on rest between Dylan's failure to grasp the idea of sleeping in and my kidneys' enthusiastic nighttime performance. I remember this part from being pregnant with Dylan, where I basically feel pretty good but if I try to do too much I'm useless. I started ripping up the house to get ready for the baby a few months ago, and at the time it seemed a little silly to start so early, but now as I look at the projects that stalled out when I started these rotations it seems prescient.

For the next month I am studying for my next licensing exam and trying to catch up on research stuff. And finishing up getting the house ready. And possibly interacting with my child, dog, and husband, should they cross my path. Which they may or may not choose to do, depending on my mood. You know, with the hormones and all.

Activities

We decided to get an early start this week with the overscheduling of the child, and started her in both soccer and swimming. The swimming is to force us to give her more regular exposure to water so she won't be so scared of getting in the pool (lessons thus far: 1; times entered the pool: 0; maximum number of adults simultaneously pandering to her to get her in: 3). The soccer is because her best buddy is doing it and it sounded like fun and I have six weeks where my schedule isn't so crazy, yet I am newborn-free. I had to miss the first session because of my constant presence in the psych ED this week, but Aaron was kind enough to give us these brief, yet dizzying, glimpses into soccer for three-year-olds. She was scared of the shin guards to start with, but now she is proud of them. I like how they go to her knees. Full coverage, you know.





********

Speaking of Aaron, he offers this review of Transformers: "I think they could have cut it down from 2.5 hours without taking too much away from it."

Sorting

You know how people like to divide the world into two kinds of people? I have a new categorization. Here is a quiz for you to place yourself into this new schema.

When I cheerfully announce that I and most of my family had swine flu last week do you...

A) Express deep and heartfelt concern because oh no! You're pregnant! Are you okay?

B) Take three steps backward and suspiciously inquire as to my current temperature.

Bonus points if you ask whether I recently spent time on a farm.

*****

None of us was ever alarmingly ill. Instead we had a few days of fever, followed by a week of existential malaise. For some, this meant staying in bed much of the day. For others, writing melancholic poetry. For still others, it meant wrapping their pathetic self around my person all day, every day, including taking a nap curled up around the extensively-documented belly, all the while emitting a whine so grating that all the houseplants died, along with my eternal soul. I think we're better now though.

*****

On top of our collective malady, we were in the Hudson Valley for a wedding over the weekend (Dylan's sixth wedding by my count), plus I am compulsively trying to schedule all my makeup shifts for school in one week, possibly in one day, because I would really like to be done. I don't think we've all been this worn out or busy in a while. Aaron has nonetheless found the strength to go see the transformers movie this evening. He's a brave little soldier.

Postscript

Well. Just as I was posting this morning Dylan shot straight up off the couch, wondered why she was wearing a sweatshirt, and commenced bouncing around the living room in a highly energetic manner. It soon occurred to me that I was still feeling just the opposite of bouncy, and that the two of us were not going to mesh well, karma-wise, if left alone in the same household all day. The day (9/9/09, or 666 upside down as we like to think of it) was therefore hastily amended from Pathetic Sick Day II to First Day of Preschool.
NB: She will only accept photographs when posing, and will only pose in this manner.

It hadn't occurred to me that she might be a little bored in the room she had been in, but when I heard all the stuff they did today I realized that she was really ready for something new, even though we have opted for the Dunce Track. And we LOVE her new teacher. They moved four of her friends up with her, so it now feels like Saved by Bell: The College Years: Preschool Style. She had a great day and came home chattering about the fire drill and her haircut (they do them there, which is awesome) and her friends and then collapsed into a pile of whine as she does after daycare every day. When I came to get her the teachers were optimistically trying to get them to do puzzles, with actual interlocking pieces and such. Good for them! I will not be the one to tell you it will never work!

One other thing I have been enjoying about daycare is that Capitalist though they clearly are, Dylan is always coming home talking about how a new Friend joined the class that day. Vaguely Communist, no?

A picture of...

I woke up this morning to a faint little voice whispering, "Mommy, I so cold...so cold."

She is a generally good sleeper now, but anyone familiar with Dylan's sleeping preferences will note that the very fact of her being asleep in a place that is not her bed requires either a sedative or an illness, and I cannot for the life of me remember slipping her any benedryl. Also, going back down for a nap at 8:30am is not one of her usual practices.

Contagion

This is, or was going to be, my last week of clinical rotations for this year of medical school. I got a call from my preceptor this morning that he didn't want me to come in the rest of the week even though I am feeling better because he doesn't want me "infecting" all his "patients." It turns out that he does not actually have the authority to excuse me from a full week of the rotation, so later in the day I got an e-mail that I would have to make up all the time I am missing. I would much rather just finish this week, but I can't really argue because the CDC says healthcare workers should still stay out for a week. There is just something so unsatisfying about having to now squeeze some more clinical stuff into my schedule instead of just finishing, especially since it will probably all be evening shifts after a full day of lectures.

The psychiatric emergency department, where I will do the shifts, is at least an interesting place to be. Last time I walked in to see a patient and the first words out of his mouth were, "My wife is seven months pregnant and is driving me crazy." Then the resident came in and started into talking to him about women and their hormones. I did not throw any punches, but I was only barely able to overcome the (presumably hormonal) impulse to do so.

H: 2 N: 2 Dylan: 0

Two observations from today:

• Flu makes a child cuddly
• Packages with glass carafes should be opened carefully

H: 1 N: 1 Kate: 0

Well Kate is now out of commission, so Dylan and I went to a birthday party without her. There were many fun activities and cup cakes to be had there, including painting - which allowed Dylan to get in touch with her inner-technicolored Jackson Pollock.


And this is just her palette. It will join the barf bag in the Dylan master piece section of our house.

Your Anniversary Present: Belly Pics

I spent all week trying to capture the Essence of Belly, which is not easy. You are now the lucky recipients of the fruits of my labor, so to speak. For the last one, did anyone see the Project Runway with the maternity wear? And the pillows for the models to wear? I bet you thought it seemed a little unrealistic, but not so, apparently.

Four Years

Dylan's eye view

This is what I gave Dylan, belatedly, for her birthday. We tend to string these things out, if you hadn't noticed. I got a cool little Canon elph camera for my birthday so I wouldn't have to decide between lugging the big one around and not taking pictures. Dylan has been very gentle with it, so I let her run around taking pictures when the mood strikes. Then I forget and upload all the pictures and wonder why I was so enchanted with my shoes or why I couldn't seem to focus that day. Every so often one of the ones she takes comes out pretty cool, and when I put a bunch of them together it started to seem like it really captured her point of view. So this is a collage of a bunch of the ones I liked, which I printed into a poster and framed.

Happy Birthday Dylan

Sorry I don't have any pictures of you not looking goofy, but that's something you're going to have to work out with the camera.

More party, in words

Yes, the Cupcakes of Irony were indeed the result of instructions from the magazine swiped from the lab. I did not eat a single one, or even a piece of one, including the many constituent parts. Extra components now litter our kitchen, including bags of marshmallows (panda snouts, penguin bibs), thin chocolate cookies (penguin flippers), and mini oreos (panda ears). I have to say, the cupcakes were worth every minute of labor that I, as foreman, squeezed out of my entirely voluntary work force.

The party went really well. So well, in fact, that guests remained in my home for pushing four hours. I had not envisioned quite that measure of success, and next year may take steps to make things slightly less fun, for purposes of getting my (post-party) dinner into my cake hole a little more promptly.

Dylan was absolutely perfect during the party and had the best time. We paid for it in other ways, with 1.5 days of anxious excitement-->irritability beforehand and 2 days of exhaustion-->irritability afterwards, but we've all recovered now. Except for Aaron, who has logged about 6 evening hours this week setting up a new play kitchen for dylan and is still a little twitchy.

Party, in pictures

Part I: The Sweatshop


Part II: The Anticipation


Part III: Activities!



(Not pictured: clothing-optional tie-dying)

Part IV: Sinister Cupcake Armies



Part V: Culling of the Herd

in treatment

I have been on my psychiatry rotation for the last week, at the state mental hospital. For some reason the way it is set up is that the work room where all the doctors and social workers and other staff putter around all day is at the end of a long hallway. Not too weird, right? Yet, this long hallway is the one where the patients hang out all day long, and they're sort of bored because all the funding got cut for extra programs, so in order to get from the work station to anywhere else you have to walk the entire length of the hallway with all the patients who are mostly in various degrees of recovery from debilitating schizophrenia or bipolar disorder and have nothing better to do than try to engage you, whatever that means to each of them. It can make one...consolidate one's trips. If only because it doesn't seem very nice to be totally engaged with people during their therapy and then have to blow them off because you're getting between me and my lunch.

As part of this rotation I am required to go to an AA meeting. I did the waddling in part, then promptly scuttled on down the hall to the Al-Anon meeting after the three 50-something men looked me up and down and cheerfully suggested that that was perhaps where I ought to be headed. So family, you can be assured that I am now getting the support I need to deal with your excesses.

sugar, revisited

Ahem. About buying myself a ticket to the three-hour version of the gestational diabetes test. I seem to have managed that even without adding an extra meal mid-test, which is how over the weekend I ended up at a far-flung lab, not allowed to leave the building for three hours, during a 15-hour fast interrupted only by another sugar drink, now with double the sugar! Plus four blood draws. Rather than studying for my test during my confinement, I took the opportunity to familiarize myself with the dazzling array of magazines in the waiting room. One issue of LHJ (Ladies Home Journal, for you newbies who have not recently read the June, July, and August 2008 issues; all marriages were saved) had instructions for animal cupcakes, and since I am coincidentally planning a party for a rather short crowd that might appreciate such a treat this weekend, I was forced to abscond with that issue.

And...I managed to almost escape without consequences. Due to bad karma from my immoral actions, one of the four blood draws came back high, which is not enough for a diagnosis of gestational diabetes, but it's enough to switch to being pretty careful about what I'm eating. Which means I probably won't get to partake in the luscious cupcakes, which is just as well because they should be too pretty to eat anyway. I am also now getting up at 6am to exercise, which works for Snuffy because it gets too hot for him to exist by about 7:30 each morning.

BONUS: bunny update

Mochi came over to play with Snuffy yesterday, so we thought we would remove the rabbit carcass from the yard before they commenced to frolic. And...it was gone. I don't know who decided that taunting us with the body for 24 hours was necessary, but at least we didn't have to deal with it. Although I wonder about whether calling the health department or animal control might not have been a good idea, in case they're interested in such things. If it wasn't some dread disease, I was trying to figure how who would have done such a thing, but all I could think of was squirrels (Aaron: "You mean, like three squirrels?) or other rabbits (Aaron: "Cat. It was a cat.").

oh daycare, how i've missed our daily struggles

It's been a while since I've written about problems with daycare, first because I was worried someone from there would find it, then more recently because we really have had a good experience there. For the past year or so Dylan has loved her teachers and had a lot of good friends in her room. I don't know that she eats or sleeps there any more than she did as an infant, but that's more her decision now and I don't worry about her while she's there. She comes home happy and chattering about her day for the 10 minutes before the Evening Evils hit.

Soon after she turns three she will probably be moved into one of the preschool rooms. I think aside from missing her teachers it should be good for her because she could probably use some new activities with some slightly older kids. I imagine they'll make sure she gets to stay with her friends, so I've generally been looking forward to it.

Today they sent home some information with the costs and "curriculum" for next year. The mainstay seems to be that they have three tiers, and they will give your child more (or less) individual attention and teach more (or less) reading and math depending on how much you are willing to pay. They didn't give a lot more detail than that (ie will your child be left to cry in a corner with the lowest level? will they actively teach your child incorrect information if you pay less?), but it again makes me wish there was another option that would work as well for us. Alas, being down the street always seems to win out. I don't really think a lot of formal teaching is necessary in preschool, but I think Dylan would really like it and I'm pretty sure she's ready to learn how to read in the next six months or so. Her reading repertoire so far includes "baby" "no" and of course "dylan, dylan, and dylan," but she's got all the basic ideas about letters and sounds and will sit and yammer on with me for a long time about what letters are in what words.

I think what we'll probably do is go with the cheapest option because I feel like this is a scam and because I'll be home a lot next year and if I feel like she needs some learnin' I can just do it myself. But ugh.

memo to aaron

You know that cute bunny that's been living in the yard?

The "in the yard" part is still true.

And what with my "condition" as you so like to call it...

sugar do do do do do do, ah honey honey

Saturday I took Dylan with me to a lab to get my gestational diabetes screening done -- the one where you drink 10 ounces of pure sugar, then wait an hour and have your glucose checked. I figured in the interim we could grab muffins or something for breakfast, although for me it would be just a tease because I think eating EXTRA sugar right before the blood draw might be asking for trouble, or at least buying myself a ticket to the three-hour version. It turns out, however, that once you get the sugar drink you cannot leave. Which I found out by drinking the drink, then saying, all casual-like, so we come back in an hour, right?

The lab tech said something along the lines of "no, we wouldn't want you to..." but trailed off before the good stuff. I am still not sure what ill effects might come of partaking of Liquid Sugar, aside from nausea, a sudden need for a nap, or maybe a sugar-fueled baby product-buying rampage, but I decided not to make a run for it. Also, last pregnancy no one seemed concerned about my whereabouts or well being during the same hour. This left me with one (1) child in a small waiting room with zero (0) provision having been made for one (1) hour's worth of entertainment. And here is where I am going to have to take back everything I have mentioned recently about said child's emotional lability and generally irrationality because she was better behaved than I was. I kept looking at my watch every two minutes, while she patiently and thoroughly examined every page of every elderly magazine in the waiting room, carefully tearing out any subscription cards she came across. She did not require a word of attention from me for 50 full minutes, then got nervous as the waiting room filled up and sat quietly on my lap the rest of the time. She was sort of a mess the rest of the morning, as was I, because we didn't get breakfast until we had been up almost three hours, but then we both made up for it with a good long nap. Aaron and Snuffy took one too, out of solidarity.

The future is now

The other day Dylan asked whether she could ask for things for her birthday. We indicated that this would be allowable, so she continued. She would like two things.

One: (some kind of toy or whatever it is the kids are into these days)

Two: When she is older, please can she play video games?

We again indicated that this would be allowable, then scurried off to see what video game options there are for preschoolers. We ended up at Best Buy and both had a moment where we realized we were embarking upon a lifetime of gadgets for her. Works for us. Yet, there aren't any games for the Wii that look like they're good for kids her age, and while there are game systems for little kid games (generally featuring one enormous button, which is about her speed), the idea of hooking up a whole separate system to the tv made us weary and we wandered away.

Guess what we found out a few days later? She can do the Wii frisbee, and with some of the automated settings she was beating me pretty reliably. I don't think she, or Aaron, has ever been prouder.








Side note: So far other plans for when she is older include: wearing a seat belt, crossing the street by herself, and drinking coffee. We dream big around here.

Re: facial hair, don't ask. No really, no one knows why. Same goes for why Dylan was wearing a pink t-shirt under the blue one.

I suppose I should stop calling him ratdog

When I am on one of my core med school rotations Aaron has to take on most of the kid and dog care, along with almost all the household stuff. It's a lot of work for him, but generally works pretty well since he's better than I am at all that stuff anyway, except maybe cooking. He has committed the new car owner's manual to memory, and by the time I ever laid eyes on the car all the radio presets had been set to our favorites, in identical order to the other cars. He could, if he chose to, maintain the bikes, he wrestled our tv converter box into submission just the other day, and he won't let me even so much as look at a beer while pregnant, despite my NEED FOR A DRINK. So, to summarize, a relatively useful man. Perhaps he will forgive me, then, in relieving him of "taking Snuffy to the groomer and issuing instructions" duty.


Local authorities: Please do not cull this dog should you initiate a deer-thinning program

word of wisdom

My family has been giving Aaron career advice re: plastics since he graduated from college. It looks like he was one step ahead of them.

25 weeks, 1 day

Dylan would please like to meet her brother now. She declared her intention to hold him the other day, but with me as an intermediary it was not as satisfying as she would have liked. This evening she announced she had a few things she would like to tell him, but got distracted by I'm not sure what, possibly a breeze.

I am advocating for a few more months before we do any introductions. I still feel mostly fine, a little lumpy, and highly irritated at the very long formal sessions in the hospital where you have to stand there looking professional while overheating and slowly dehydrating. I am now some kind of highly trained professional dried fruit (katefruit?). I must be impressing someone with my ability to both serve as a nutritious snack and as a packmule for pens and any other devices that can fit into my coat that might possibly be of some use to the people I am working with, sometime.

******

The car is a big hit at BleisenHaus. Dylan would sit in the driveway all day gazing out the tinted windows, while Snuffy alternately lounges in the back (it's a transformer! the back seats fold right down into the floor. i assume the next step in the transformation is for the doors to turn into arms, but we haven't found that button yet, despite aaron's diligent and ongoing reading of the owner's manual) and tries to balance on the passenger seat (along the lines of an elephant in a cartoon who has been startled, probably by a mouse, and leaps up with all four legs onto a chair. then the mouse runs in circles around the chair and it wobbles ever more uncontrollably until they both topple into a pile of hilarity on the floor)(should i pitch this to someone?).

The point of the car is that once we have TWO (2!) of the wee ones, we will be able to fit all our selves, car seats, large dogbeast, AND luggage and/or friends into one vehicle. Previously we had maxed out at various configurations that involved either the dog OR the luggage OR the friends, with additional combinations possible if one had ample time to devote to packing (usually luggage, sometimes friends) and one had recently brushed up on one's jenga skills.

This was our first experience buying a car from a haggle-like place, since the subaru was from a no-haggle place where they tell you the price and then you pay that price. If things didn't go well we planned to employ Annie as our spokeswoman, who I have heard learned how to artfully hurl personal insults during the bargaining process in her tenure in the Peace Corps. In fact things did go reasonably well because it seems to be true that at the end of the month the nice salespeople want nothing more than to reach some kind of mythical car sales number and don't much care about the price that they receive for their wares. So the gentleman just gave us a price without any threats or counteroffers or subterfuge, as we had been led to believe would be necessary, and it was like $5 over the invoice price per the internet, and there was a rebate that they don't usually have, plus we drove away quickly before they cashed our check, so it all worked out.

He told us they had sold over 100 cars in July for the cash for clunkers program and had yet to receive any money for them, so the dealership had essentially put up $500,000 that they weren't sure they were going to get back. This was before the government announced extra money for the program, so the dealership was getting really nervous and thinking of stopping it.

Anyway, anyone who's up for a joyride let us know. Be warned though, it's sort of the opposite of a chick magnet though, and cancels out the cute kid and the cute dog in that respect.

gone cruising

So Big! II

No less than three people in the past week have remarked on exactly how big I am. Isn't there some kind of rule about this? Ah, the Internet never fails to instruct. Etiquette issues aside, I don't feel big AT ALL. The baby is only 1.5 pounds, I haven't gained too much weight, and, most importantly, I can still lie on my back without having my lungs crushed and my circulation halted. Unlike, for example, during my failed dentist appointment at 8 months with Dylan, where I flopped around on the chair gasping and was eventually ushered out the door without having received an dental services. Plus, there is nowhere to go from here but bigger (see: 16+ more weeks of gestating). And likely straight out the front at an unnatural angle, which is what happened last time and is probably why people think I look funny now.

********

Dylan came home today and told me they had washed her hair at daycare. She did not like the soap in her eyes. Had they washed anyone else's hair? No. Was it after water play? No. Did she get something in it? No. It was just dirty.

Is that weird? She's pretty reliable when she volunteers stories from her day. I wonder if she'll come home with new clothes and extra food one day. I just don't brush her hair because it's like mine and doesn't look quite right all brushed out, not that it looks particularly...kempt is the word, right? Okay, not a word, but you know what I mean. See also: choosing my battles.

Ack, I have to go, Aaron's lecturing Snuffy about his decisions again. "You're not a bad dog...you're just making bad choices right now." (=barking)

tomorrow, tomorrow

We have always had trouble with Dylan not eating enough at dinner, then weeping pathetically for food in lieu of sleeping. We have been pretty religious about not giving her food after dinner because this is an annoying personality trait, but she is like Snuffy and his quest for handouts at the table, in that no amount of experience (this has never worked before, but maybe tonight's the night) can train her to stop. She has, however, recently switched tactics. Instead of asking for food in the moment, she asks, "Mommy, can I eat tomorrow after I go to sleep?" As though we have also, in the past, refused to give her any breakfast, just out of habit. Tempting, but I've never pulled it off.

********

Do you think whenever a new issue of Rolling Stone comes out whoever is on the cover goes around humming that song for a while, even if they're really famous?

What about Oprah? Every time an issue of her magazine comes out is she like SCORE!?

So Big!

Dylan got a few good nights of sleep in a row and switched back to her normal self, while retaining the right to switch back to Devil Spawn should she become fatigued or reach 5pm, whichever comes first on a given day. More recently, she has ceased sleeping again, for unclear reasons, with predictable results. I am probably not helping, as I got in trouble at bedtime tonight for being a less than calming presence. However, YOU try to remain neutral and soothing while Dylan sidles up to Aaron and lovingly rubs his tummy and tells him how big it's getting.

***********

I'm on my neurology now. It has had awfully humane hours this week, allowing me to both learn AND see daylight, all in the same day. Next week should be similar, I may go and get myself spoiled. I am bored of hearing myself yammer on about med school, so that's about enough of that for a while.

wizened

One of the hardest things about starting clinical rotations this year was figuring out that no matter how hard you work and how much you read, a big part of the training is getting a certain amount (=years) of experience and seeing a certain number (=lots) of patients. I'm starting my neurology rotation now, and because I have not made my schedule straightforward for myself, what with the research and the children, I am the only student on this rotation who has done other hospital rotations before.

So! Suddenly I know what's going on and no one else does, and I am not disoriented, and I know my way around, and I know how to learn efficiently on these rotations (=reading, not blogging), just by virtue of having spent 9 months more doing this than my new classmates have. I'm not sure what my point is, but it is really nice not to be anxious and confused all the time, for once. Maybe this is what failing a grade would have been like? Should I recommend that to young children?

Also, everyone treats you really differently if they find out you've done 9 months versus zero months of hospital rotations. If it was weird getting used to some of the hierarchy to begin with, it is even weirder to have a different place in the hierarchy because of...showing up at work. At which I am quite good, aside from OB appointments that I think start getting more frequent at some point (23 weeks today), if I am remembering the incessant appointments towards the end from last time correctly. Anyway, next time you see me, remember my excellent attendance record and genuflect, or something.

Confusion, two ways

Dylan and I cleared a little something up today. It is not that she wants to name the baby cookie monster. It is that she thinks the baby will be baby cookie monster. I would be a little disappointed too, if I had thought that we were about to have a muppet come live in our house. I would, however, hope that the new child might be slightly less...one dimensional, would you call it?

********

This last rotation has been more like House than anything else I've done so far. No one knew what was going on in any given case I saw in the hospital, which leads to all sorts of hijinks. Not sure why you're here? Let's biopsy some random stuff. Plan B? Take out your spleen. Several people got lumbar punctures looking for "we're not exactly sure what, possibly syphilis." High-dose steroids are always an option, because if it works, hey, we made you better! And we actually got fluid out of some joints, then took it down to the CRAZY lab in the basement that does all the tests for the hospital to look at it ourselves. Imagine any movie with a huge busy lab scene and that was it. One woman got diagnosed with an unusual case of a disease that's 90% fatal if untreated that no one else had figured out in her previous 10 days in the hospital. Also, my boss was a misanthropic drug addict.

Your input needed

New quiz to the right. A child's future is in your hands.

Dessert

Dylan must have read yesterday's post because she woke up this morning as cheerful as a Snuff at feeding time. She ate actual food at breakfast, chattered happily at me as I got ready, and skipped (in her own mind at least) all the way to daycare. It took her two hours to fall asleep this evening though, so we're in for it tomorrow. I think a lot of the Grump is just being tired because she hasn't been sleeping well lately, and also because I won't do all the things she wants me to do all the time.

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And now for an update almost in real time:
Aaron was just eating his customary evening large ice cream sundae bowl of fruit, when he suddenly emitted a plaintive, pained noise, such that I lept to my feet to see if he was okay. Which, he was not, as he is always not after snarfling ice cream fruit so fast that his entire head flash freezes and he is rendered temporarily mute due to being essentially a popsicle. To further investigate, I covertly had him do a quiz, confirming my suspicions.


Aaron is a Cherry Flavored Popsicle

Open for business

I am on a rheumatology elective in which I have learned: moving parts, they cause problems. Every single patient in the hospital that I have seen on this rotation has been some crazy complicated thing that I will never see again. I got to practice allergy skin testing on some of the new fellows, so anyone who is looking to be poked with allergens, I'm your girl. Except that I don't have the right equipment at home, so we'll have to improvise. Looking around, we can currently provide testing for large hairy dog, dust, grass, incredibly itchy weeds, large hairy guy, eggs, potatoes, duplos, magnetic letters, antibiotics effective against lyme disease in dogs, almost-three-year-old, and several tree pollens. Mold is luckily out of stock.

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Apparently admiring orthopedic shoes online is just the gateway to a larger world of frumpy, slightly medical items, because the next day I found myself in a medical supply store purchasing the strongest kind of compression socks possible without a prescription, and wondering if I should get someone to write me a prescription to take things up a notch. I have been wearing them for two days and I'm afraid there's no going back. Next up: matching tracksuits and a fanny pack.

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Dylan has never been so irritating in all her life. And let me tell you, I have been reviewing her life in some detail via the never-ending pile of clothes in the attic worn at various phases. Her new status as a functioning, talking person allows her to express her grumpiness in a stunning variety of never-before-possible forms, from a baseline of Reflexively Contrary, escalating to Moderate Displeasure at My Continued Presence to her peak of All Out Tantrum, While Hurling Insults. Tantrums seem like sort of a reasonable response before you can say why you are frustrated and what it is exactly that you want, but I don't really see the point once you can TELL ME WHAT YOU WANT. Actually, now that I think about it, the problem is of course NOT getting what she wants. What can I say, most days I insist that she wear pants, and most days I don't feel like that's a good starting point for negotiations.

This morning I told her that we didn't have time to play around on the computer because she had spent so much time whining and crying so then she looked up at me and asked "Mommy, I not a nice girl anymore?" I always thought the differentiation between acting annoying and being annoying was too subtle for little kids to get, but I guess we better work on that. Although actually maybe it's a little too subtle for me also. Because: irritating.

Anyone who wants more direction in life can come lift things while I boss them around

Aaron snuck away to the Catskills for the weekend for a multi-day bachelor party (don't worry, I reminded him that We Don't Touch the Strippers), and in response Snuffy reset his barking threshold to High Alert and Dylan set her existence to High Maintenance. Dylan chose not to sleep much of the time he was gone, until right before he came home, at which time she took an excellent nap, then woke up happy and cheerful for her whole afternoon with him. I think I will hide all the blue and green duplos in retaliation. I guess she did watch the last 20 minutes of the Tour de France with me this morning, so maybe just the green ones.

The house rearranging and baby preparations continue. They are happening now as opposed to in October because 1) I am only going to get bigger and 2) I am starting 8 weeks of real rotations in a week, where in my experience I am lucky if I have time to make dinner once a week, let alone make room for another entire person, albeit small, to take up residence in my house. I have still managed to make my back feel maligned, which causes me to purchase ever more supportive shoes. I thought I would make fun of orthopedic shoes at this point, but then I went to some websites and all I could think about was how actually those look pretty good, so forget it.

Dylan was very helpful in Aaron's absence, and many of the house's new design features reflect her taste. For example, each of the nice wooden salad bowls is now carefully laid out on the floor and topped by a frisbee. Many of the other kitchen implements have been spread out in her teepee, which was finally evicted from the living room to the basement after 1.5 years.

I am also wading through baby clothes, which has both raised and answered some questions:
-How did one small child amass so many clothes in such a short lifetime?
-How can so many of them possibly be pink? Really, how? Have you ever met me?
-Yet, the pile of Things I Probably Won't Put on a Boy is rather small. It'll be like a social experiment!
-Also, he still has to wear all the Dylan's Candy Bar stuff. It's so cool. Wait, should we name him Dylan too? Or maybe Arby? They must have t-shirts.
-No, he will not be named Michael Jackson.
-Or Cookie Monster (Dylan I'm looking at you, because I'm not sure why else your daycare teachers think this is the main contender).
-Also, we're not telling you the name before he's born. No, we're not. Not that we've gotten that far yet.

Friday night: should get out more edition

As I mentioned in the comments, just minutes after posting yesterday I received an e-mail with our gas & electric bill, which was twice as high as it usually is for this time of year. How did I know it was too high? Common sense? Six years of living in this house? Or, perhaps, my spreadsheet, updated monthly, with all our gas & electric bills for the past three years?


See, that spike there in the purple 2009 line just didn't make sense. I called to figure out what was going on, and there actually was some kind of mistake in the meter read and they're going to send a new bill. So I'm about 1 for 5 this week. I started the graph to see if it made a difference in the bill when we switched to wind power (end of 2007) or when we replaced all the windows (summer 2007).

Trust me, if I could drink right now I would be doing that instead. Or, more likely, simultaneously.

The Week So Far

But first, one more from the trip, Barf Bag Art:

Also, we got to see fireworks in both Philly and Rochester from the plane. We were a lot higher, suckers.

Sunday:
Dylan wakes up and asks when and where we're going for another trip. Luckily a roving band of Ithaca natives showed up to bring the party to her. They also provide therapy.

Monday:
$350 in car repairs.
2 hours in the waiting room of a doctor I was supposed to be working with.
1 annual TB test (repeat 20 times: do not forget to get this read in two days. again.)

Tuesday:
1 baby checkup (obstetrician: "Don't I know you?" she was right, possibly due to the 5 surgeries I was in with her during my OB/GYN rotation)
1 mailing telling just exactly how much our escrow payment is going to increase starting next month (hint: not zero)

Wednesday:
$280 in Snuff necessities (checkup, rabies shots, hypoallergenic food, lyme disease testing...and treatment, heartworm pills, and a scolding that he is 82lbs instead of 78lbs)
1 visit from my burly siblings, imported to move heavy furniture around the house on my behalf (I believe this is called "nesting")
1 hour of rejoicing that I had finished work at 3:30pm and could hang out with my houseguests
3 hours of drudgery when I got called and made to go back into the hospital at 4:30pm
12+ hours of pouting afterwards

Thursday:
$270 for the plumber

Friday (scheduled):
Taking bets on who will require several hundred dollars of us next. Will it be
...the electrician?
...the appliance repairman?
...the DMV?
...the dog behavioral therapist?
...the parole officer?
Could be anyone. Variety is the spice of life.