Showing posts with label food. Show all posts
Showing posts with label food. Show all posts
Monday, May 21, 2018
Monday, August 10, 2015
Friday, April 24, 2015
Mysterious Banana
So when the banana that I unpacked from the snack bag was set on the counter, next to a screw driver and ended up looking like this, I asked Sam if he had repeatedly stabbed it with the screwdriver.
"No," he told me and went back to doing what he was doing.
I remember reading an article once about a crate of bananas that arrived at a store and then at someone's house, with tarantula eggs in them. I briefly thought that perhaps there was some strange insect or critter that came with the fruit.
I went back to Sam with the banana in hand.
"So you didn't stab the banana with the screwdriver." I reiterated.
"No," he told me again. I was totally perplexed and ready to start purging fruit. A few minutes later he finished what he was doing and found me studying the other bananas.
"I stabbed it with a Lego," he told me as he passed by.
"No," he told me and went back to doing what he was doing.
I remember reading an article once about a crate of bananas that arrived at a store and then at someone's house, with tarantula eggs in them. I briefly thought that perhaps there was some strange insect or critter that came with the fruit.
I went back to Sam with the banana in hand.
"So you didn't stab the banana with the screwdriver." I reiterated.
"No," he told me again. I was totally perplexed and ready to start purging fruit. A few minutes later he finished what he was doing and found me studying the other bananas.
"I stabbed it with a Lego," he told me as he passed by.
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| If you don't ask the right questions you don't get the right answers. |
Friday, February 13, 2015
Vivian's Pizza Delivery
I was giving Sam a bath and he was tired and working up to a tantrum. We heard a knock on the bathroom door and there was Vivian...
She was perplexed as to why we were laughing- but Sam stopped his whining. Oh, and sadly the pizza box was empty, she'd taken it from the recycling.
Sunday, October 12, 2014
More Grey Hairs
We had another exciting week with more medical adventures. Vivian (and I!) had our first ambulance ride. Not something I would necessarily recommend. I got a cell phone call at work mid-morning from her caregiver, saying, "please come now!" She is Spanish speaking and speaks wonderful English, but she was rapidly losing it because she was panicked. I managed to pick up, "she eat almond, no good, no good, I give her the medicine you give me," and something about her breathing. I only had two kids in my classroom and grabbed the Epi Pen I had in my purse and ran out the school and across the street. She met me on the street, white as a sheet, with Vivian who was still breathing irregularly, kind of a wheezing, gasping sound. Apparently she had one almond and started having difficulty breathing so her caregiver administered her Epi Pen. The one we had for dairy, that we never thought we'd need.
I grabbed Vivian and ran back up to school where my car was, calling the pediatrician's office on the way, who told me to "call 911 immediately." I didn't know whether to take her in my car to the hospital or not, so I figured the safest option was to take her into the school nurse.
The nurse immediately looked at her and called 911 (like I was supposed to do). In a public school setting, this sets a number of events into action, including putting the school on "shelter in place," which means children cannot be in the hall (transition anywhere) and everyone must stay in classrooms, as well as sending the crisis team into action. It took the firefighters about 6 minutes to get there and the ambulance about 8 minutes, which is a little scary. Meanwhile a coworker grabbed my purse from upstairs.
The firefighters who arrived first got the carseat out of my car, for the ride home from the hospital, while others tended to her, she was in my arms wisely refusing to be put down. Vivian was not a big fan of the oxygen mask they tried to put on her face and started to scream hysterically, which actually made me feel better because she had enough breath to scream and that is typical behavior from her.
When the ambulance finally arrived, I carried her outside and they raised the stretcher to a seated position and tried to strap her in. She escaped from the shoulder belts and would not stay on the stretcher. Since law says she has to be restrained when transporting, it meant they had to install the carseat to transport her. Which I understand, but seems counterintuitive if you really are racing against time. It took three of us to get her into the carseat and strapped in, during which she was obviously hysterical the whole time. They got a toe monitor on her which pissed her off even more and she screamed bloody murder. Finally the ambulance started moving and she quieted down. By the time we reached the Mass Pike she was pretty content to look out the window and wave to the second ambulance behind us. I'm still not entirely sure why there was a second ambulance…
Then she promptly passed out, pulling her "this sucks, I'm going to sleep to ignore it entirely" trick, but the EMTs kept trying to "revive her" though all of her numbers on the monitor were actually fine at that point, except her elevated heart rate. We arrived at the hospital with an escort of five medics and another gentlemen met us. It was quite a scene. Vivian was now awake and chatting away in her carseat on the stretcher as they wheeled her through the adult emergency room and into pediatrics. Her good humor ended the moment we reached her little area to be treated in.
Suddenly the room swarmed with people, two nurses, a life nurse (or some title like that), the registrant, and the medics who were slowly clearing out. They took Vivian out of her carseat and she looked around and yelled. Nurse Nancy was apparently in charge and Vivian and Nurse Nancy immediately went head-to-head. Nurse Nancy was a tall blond, perfectly put together, and made scrubs look like a power suit. She was a stickler for procedure and protocol and Vivian wanted nothing to do with hospital rules. Nurse Nancy began to demand Vivian's weight and had the other nurse bring in a baby scale.
"I don't think she's going to sit on that," I told Nancy.
"She has to. I need her weight," Nancy told me. Meanwhile, I was trying to finish paperwork with the EMTs for the ambulance, the life nurse was blowing bubbles to calm Vivian down, another EMT was blowing up a rubber glove to distract her, and Vivian was glued to me like a barnacle. I peeled her off and put her on the scale.
"Stay still!" Nurse Nancy barked. Vivian was a horrible shade of reddish-purple now from the reaction and she was not staying on that scale. She tried to scramble off the scale. I caught her.
"I need her weight!" Nancy told me.
"She's 24 pounds," I told her.
"Her exact weight. I have to have it." she said. She yelled at the male nurse to get the adult scale.
"I'm going to get her weight," she informed me.
The life nurse was now reading "Goodnight Moon" loudly while the EMTs started to clear out. The male nurse heaved a large adult scale in.
"Get on mom," Nurse Nancy ordered.
I got on.
"Now get off. Give someone the baby." I handed her screaming to the male nurse and I got back on the scale.
Nancy smiled with satisfaction. One point for Nancy. Now there were only four of us, plus screaming Viv.
Nurse Nancy managed to get the sticker monitor on Vivian's toe which royally pissed her off even more. Then she had to listen to her chest.
"I can't do this! I'm getting someone else." She stalked out and came back with a very good natured, pleasant doctor. He placed the stethoscope on Vivian's back and listened to hear, though how he heard her over her wails, and the life nurse banging on a plastic piano, I'm not sure.
Finally Vivian went to sleep on my chest while they poked her and watched the monitor. The pleasant doctor was pleasant, I explained the life nurse that just some quiet and calm would be good- no, not bubbles, and they retreated. The registering guy returned and registered us and printed out a bracelet for her. He looked at me, "she won't want to wear this will she?"
"No," I said, "probably not. Does she have to?"
"Well, yes," he said, "but it's not worth waking her up for and you're with her. Maybe try later."
On his way out, Nancy glared at him from her seat at the desk, "I'm registering them now," she told him, "they're not in the system yet!"
They had a quiet exchange and he went on his way.
She came in and looked at Vivian, "is she wearing her bracelet?" she said eyeing the bracelet lying on the table.
"No."
"Well it's hospital protocol!!!" she told me.
"I can wear it," I told her.
"The patient has to wear it! If she leaves this room she has to have it on!"
We looked at Vivian who was sound asleep. "She's leaving?" I inquired.
"If she gets an x-ray she has to have it on!"
"Is she getting an X-ray?" I asked.
Nurse Nancy sputtered, "No. But if she leaves this room it's hospital protocol!"
"Okay, I'll put it on her when she wakes up or if she leaves the room."
She glared at me.
"We'll be back to examine her," she told me.
They came back a few minutes later, luckily nice doctor was in charge. He listened to her again and said her airways sounded good and then had to look in her throat to see if it was swollen. He explained that what was done from here was to give her Benadryl and Dexamethasone, a steroid to open her airways and keep them open once the epinephrine had worn off.
"She can take it all orally," he told me and off he went.
I was left with Nurse Nancy.
"So, Vivian doesn't like to take medicine orally," I told her.
"What do you mean?" she demanded.
"I mean we hold her down and she spits it out, moves her head, we get very little in. The best luck we've had is giving it to her in suppository form."
At this point Vivian was crying again, because she'd woken up to find herself being examined and while she was awake, realized her foot monitor was still on.
I swear Nurse Nancy was about to roll her eyes. "Is this your first?" she asked me.
"No. It's not." I told her.
"Well, we can inject her with them. Is that what you want?"
No it was not what I wanted, but it would be easier and less dramatic for all of us.
"Yes, let's do that."
"So you'd rather she had three shots then take them orally?"
Okay, was she now making me out to be a horrible mom? Had she ever held this child down repeatedly only to be covered in medicine and have her actually take none?
"I think that's the best thing. Wait, three shots?"
She ignored me. "Wouldn't you like to try one orally at least?"
"Fine, let's try one orally." Let's prove to you that she won't swallow it.
She glared at the hospital bracelet (which I was under no circumstances now putting on my daughter) and left.
She returned with one syringe for the oral medication and the syringe to inject her with. Of course Vivian had just gone back to sleep. We woke her up and as she was just coming to, I (apparently this was now my responsibility), stuck the syringe in her mouth and got the majority of the medicine in before she flipped out, gagging, and spitting it back at me.
"Well, she is a firecracker." Nancy told me. "I've really never seen anything like it."
Yes, I'm sure unruly, pissed off toddlers never cross your path in this line of work. My god. Really?
Another nurse approached with the syringe and the three of us held her down and they administered it. Naturally this set off another round of screaming, now she'd had the Epi Pen in one leg and the steroid in the other. Poor kid.
From here it was mostly just Vivian falling asleep on and off, occasionally being prodded and monitored. Nurse Nancy insisted on turning on the lights every time she entered while muttering about Vivian's temper. I called my family, touched base with Chris a few times, and happily snuggled Viv. Tessa brought me a sandwich and hung out for a while as she works down the street from the hospital. Vivian looked good all things considered. Her heart rate was normal, it had been like 280 in the ambulance after the Epi Pen, now it was back in the 90s. Tessa kept me company for a while and then went back to work.
They monitored Vivian for four hours and then we were discharged. The problem with the discharge is that coming in, I had had five extra pairs of hands for the carseat and my purse and bag. Now it was me, a carseat that weights like 50 pounds, a 24 lb (yes, I was right) toddler I had to carry, and my bags. Vivian was barefoot as in the chaos of the morning her shoes were left at her baby-sitter's. And naturally, during this whole adventure I was wearing a black maxi skirt that would slide down and make it impossible to walk (let alone climb on and off of stretchers, run in, and climb in and out of ambulances in). So now I was struggling through the hospital out to the main entrance where my mom was picking us up. Nurse Nancy smiled at me, "good-bye now!"
I gritted my teeth and managed a smile, "bye."
Roz and Vivian and I retrieved my car from work and were home before dinner. I even managed to get a call into her pediatrician and book an allergist appointment before the offices closed. Sam played with Nana and I took Vivian outside to play for a little while.
Through everything I was calm and felt like I had my head on. I don't know how I would have reacted if I had seen her truly laboring to breath or god forbid, worse than she was. I was exhausted at the end and the next day too, but I felt okay with everything. I think I came to terms with her having a food allergy when we were testing her for dairy allergies. It wasn't until Saturday when I went to Whole Foods with her to pick up some groceries that I found myself crying. We were in the rice aisle and Vivian was pushing the cart around while I quickly grabbed things. I inadvertently took a Toasted Almond Rice Pilaf off the shelf in my haste. When I realized what I was holding, I discovered I was crying, in the middle of the grocery store. We must have been quite a sight, Vivian wildly pushing the cart into shelves while I cried over a box of rice mix. I just realized how easily she could have a nut and how close we had come. We have a series of steps to go through now, but all in all, we are really lucky.
Chris and Sam went away for a few days, so I have had some quiet time with Vivian, which perhaps we both needed. She came down with a fever on Friday night, which I cannot separate from everything that happened on Thursday, partly, because I don't want her to have a severe food allergy, I know. But it all seems so coincidental, though she really probably just picked up a virus at the ER. She is clingy and tearful, whether from having a virus or being traumatized, it's unclear. I'm just enjoying her holding onto me and taking it for what it is, but I hope she is herself soon. Sam and Chris will be back soon and I think that will make her feel better too.
I grabbed Vivian and ran back up to school where my car was, calling the pediatrician's office on the way, who told me to "call 911 immediately." I didn't know whether to take her in my car to the hospital or not, so I figured the safest option was to take her into the school nurse.
The nurse immediately looked at her and called 911 (like I was supposed to do). In a public school setting, this sets a number of events into action, including putting the school on "shelter in place," which means children cannot be in the hall (transition anywhere) and everyone must stay in classrooms, as well as sending the crisis team into action. It took the firefighters about 6 minutes to get there and the ambulance about 8 minutes, which is a little scary. Meanwhile a coworker grabbed my purse from upstairs.
The firefighters who arrived first got the carseat out of my car, for the ride home from the hospital, while others tended to her, she was in my arms wisely refusing to be put down. Vivian was not a big fan of the oxygen mask they tried to put on her face and started to scream hysterically, which actually made me feel better because she had enough breath to scream and that is typical behavior from her.
When the ambulance finally arrived, I carried her outside and they raised the stretcher to a seated position and tried to strap her in. She escaped from the shoulder belts and would not stay on the stretcher. Since law says she has to be restrained when transporting, it meant they had to install the carseat to transport her. Which I understand, but seems counterintuitive if you really are racing against time. It took three of us to get her into the carseat and strapped in, during which she was obviously hysterical the whole time. They got a toe monitor on her which pissed her off even more and she screamed bloody murder. Finally the ambulance started moving and she quieted down. By the time we reached the Mass Pike she was pretty content to look out the window and wave to the second ambulance behind us. I'm still not entirely sure why there was a second ambulance…
Then she promptly passed out, pulling her "this sucks, I'm going to sleep to ignore it entirely" trick, but the EMTs kept trying to "revive her" though all of her numbers on the monitor were actually fine at that point, except her elevated heart rate. We arrived at the hospital with an escort of five medics and another gentlemen met us. It was quite a scene. Vivian was now awake and chatting away in her carseat on the stretcher as they wheeled her through the adult emergency room and into pediatrics. Her good humor ended the moment we reached her little area to be treated in.
Suddenly the room swarmed with people, two nurses, a life nurse (or some title like that), the registrant, and the medics who were slowly clearing out. They took Vivian out of her carseat and she looked around and yelled. Nurse Nancy was apparently in charge and Vivian and Nurse Nancy immediately went head-to-head. Nurse Nancy was a tall blond, perfectly put together, and made scrubs look like a power suit. She was a stickler for procedure and protocol and Vivian wanted nothing to do with hospital rules. Nurse Nancy began to demand Vivian's weight and had the other nurse bring in a baby scale.
"I don't think she's going to sit on that," I told Nancy.
"She has to. I need her weight," Nancy told me. Meanwhile, I was trying to finish paperwork with the EMTs for the ambulance, the life nurse was blowing bubbles to calm Vivian down, another EMT was blowing up a rubber glove to distract her, and Vivian was glued to me like a barnacle. I peeled her off and put her on the scale.
"Stay still!" Nurse Nancy barked. Vivian was a horrible shade of reddish-purple now from the reaction and she was not staying on that scale. She tried to scramble off the scale. I caught her.
"I need her weight!" Nancy told me.
"She's 24 pounds," I told her.
"Her exact weight. I have to have it." she said. She yelled at the male nurse to get the adult scale.
"I'm going to get her weight," she informed me.
The life nurse was now reading "Goodnight Moon" loudly while the EMTs started to clear out. The male nurse heaved a large adult scale in.
"Get on mom," Nurse Nancy ordered.
I got on.
"Now get off. Give someone the baby." I handed her screaming to the male nurse and I got back on the scale.
Nancy smiled with satisfaction. One point for Nancy. Now there were only four of us, plus screaming Viv.
Nurse Nancy managed to get the sticker monitor on Vivian's toe which royally pissed her off even more. Then she had to listen to her chest.
"I can't do this! I'm getting someone else." She stalked out and came back with a very good natured, pleasant doctor. He placed the stethoscope on Vivian's back and listened to hear, though how he heard her over her wails, and the life nurse banging on a plastic piano, I'm not sure.
Finally Vivian went to sleep on my chest while they poked her and watched the monitor. The pleasant doctor was pleasant, I explained the life nurse that just some quiet and calm would be good- no, not bubbles, and they retreated. The registering guy returned and registered us and printed out a bracelet for her. He looked at me, "she won't want to wear this will she?"
"No," I said, "probably not. Does she have to?"
"Well, yes," he said, "but it's not worth waking her up for and you're with her. Maybe try later."
On his way out, Nancy glared at him from her seat at the desk, "I'm registering them now," she told him, "they're not in the system yet!"
They had a quiet exchange and he went on his way.
She came in and looked at Vivian, "is she wearing her bracelet?" she said eyeing the bracelet lying on the table.
"No."
"Well it's hospital protocol!!!" she told me.
"I can wear it," I told her.
"The patient has to wear it! If she leaves this room she has to have it on!"
We looked at Vivian who was sound asleep. "She's leaving?" I inquired.
"If she gets an x-ray she has to have it on!"
"Is she getting an X-ray?" I asked.
Nurse Nancy sputtered, "No. But if she leaves this room it's hospital protocol!"
"Okay, I'll put it on her when she wakes up or if she leaves the room."
She glared at me.
"We'll be back to examine her," she told me.
They came back a few minutes later, luckily nice doctor was in charge. He listened to her again and said her airways sounded good and then had to look in her throat to see if it was swollen. He explained that what was done from here was to give her Benadryl and Dexamethasone, a steroid to open her airways and keep them open once the epinephrine had worn off.
"She can take it all orally," he told me and off he went.
I was left with Nurse Nancy.
"So, Vivian doesn't like to take medicine orally," I told her.
"What do you mean?" she demanded.
"I mean we hold her down and she spits it out, moves her head, we get very little in. The best luck we've had is giving it to her in suppository form."
At this point Vivian was crying again, because she'd woken up to find herself being examined and while she was awake, realized her foot monitor was still on.
I swear Nurse Nancy was about to roll her eyes. "Is this your first?" she asked me.
"No. It's not." I told her.
"Well, we can inject her with them. Is that what you want?"
No it was not what I wanted, but it would be easier and less dramatic for all of us.
"Yes, let's do that."
"So you'd rather she had three shots then take them orally?"
Okay, was she now making me out to be a horrible mom? Had she ever held this child down repeatedly only to be covered in medicine and have her actually take none?
"I think that's the best thing. Wait, three shots?"
She ignored me. "Wouldn't you like to try one orally at least?"
"Fine, let's try one orally." Let's prove to you that she won't swallow it.
She glared at the hospital bracelet (which I was under no circumstances now putting on my daughter) and left.
She returned with one syringe for the oral medication and the syringe to inject her with. Of course Vivian had just gone back to sleep. We woke her up and as she was just coming to, I (apparently this was now my responsibility), stuck the syringe in her mouth and got the majority of the medicine in before she flipped out, gagging, and spitting it back at me.
"Well, she is a firecracker." Nancy told me. "I've really never seen anything like it."
Yes, I'm sure unruly, pissed off toddlers never cross your path in this line of work. My god. Really?
Another nurse approached with the syringe and the three of us held her down and they administered it. Naturally this set off another round of screaming, now she'd had the Epi Pen in one leg and the steroid in the other. Poor kid.
From here it was mostly just Vivian falling asleep on and off, occasionally being prodded and monitored. Nurse Nancy insisted on turning on the lights every time she entered while muttering about Vivian's temper. I called my family, touched base with Chris a few times, and happily snuggled Viv. Tessa brought me a sandwich and hung out for a while as she works down the street from the hospital. Vivian looked good all things considered. Her heart rate was normal, it had been like 280 in the ambulance after the Epi Pen, now it was back in the 90s. Tessa kept me company for a while and then went back to work.
They monitored Vivian for four hours and then we were discharged. The problem with the discharge is that coming in, I had had five extra pairs of hands for the carseat and my purse and bag. Now it was me, a carseat that weights like 50 pounds, a 24 lb (yes, I was right) toddler I had to carry, and my bags. Vivian was barefoot as in the chaos of the morning her shoes were left at her baby-sitter's. And naturally, during this whole adventure I was wearing a black maxi skirt that would slide down and make it impossible to walk (let alone climb on and off of stretchers, run in, and climb in and out of ambulances in). So now I was struggling through the hospital out to the main entrance where my mom was picking us up. Nurse Nancy smiled at me, "good-bye now!"
I gritted my teeth and managed a smile, "bye."
Roz and Vivian and I retrieved my car from work and were home before dinner. I even managed to get a call into her pediatrician and book an allergist appointment before the offices closed. Sam played with Nana and I took Vivian outside to play for a little while.
Through everything I was calm and felt like I had my head on. I don't know how I would have reacted if I had seen her truly laboring to breath or god forbid, worse than she was. I was exhausted at the end and the next day too, but I felt okay with everything. I think I came to terms with her having a food allergy when we were testing her for dairy allergies. It wasn't until Saturday when I went to Whole Foods with her to pick up some groceries that I found myself crying. We were in the rice aisle and Vivian was pushing the cart around while I quickly grabbed things. I inadvertently took a Toasted Almond Rice Pilaf off the shelf in my haste. When I realized what I was holding, I discovered I was crying, in the middle of the grocery store. We must have been quite a sight, Vivian wildly pushing the cart into shelves while I cried over a box of rice mix. I just realized how easily she could have a nut and how close we had come. We have a series of steps to go through now, but all in all, we are really lucky.
Chris and Sam went away for a few days, so I have had some quiet time with Vivian, which perhaps we both needed. She came down with a fever on Friday night, which I cannot separate from everything that happened on Thursday, partly, because I don't want her to have a severe food allergy, I know. But it all seems so coincidental, though she really probably just picked up a virus at the ER. She is clingy and tearful, whether from having a virus or being traumatized, it's unclear. I'm just enjoying her holding onto me and taking it for what it is, but I hope she is herself soon. Sam and Chris will be back soon and I think that will make her feel better too.
 |
| precious girl |
Tuesday, January 21, 2014
Annoying
At dinner last night, Sam was getting as close to Vivian as he could get and making noises at her. At first she was amused and laughing, and then she tried to swat him away and ignore him.
Finally, I intervened as she started to fuss.
"Sam, why don't you try teaching Vivian some words, instead of nonsense and making noises?"
He looked up at me, "mom, I'm trying to teach her how to annoy people."
I had nothing to say to that.
Finally, I intervened as she started to fuss.
"Sam, why don't you try teaching Vivian some words, instead of nonsense and making noises?"
He looked up at me, "mom, I'm trying to teach her how to annoy people."
I had nothing to say to that.
Tuesday, January 14, 2014
Grocery Store Trip
I never knew how exhausting having kids could be, just trying to get the simple things done takes twice as long and is never calm. I see people with three or more kids and marvel at their ability to run things smoothly.
Today was rainy and by the afternoon, raining steadily. After work, I got Vivian and then picked Sam up at school and needed to stop for a few groceries on the way home. We get to the store and I really had to pee. I didn't have time after the students left my classroom, without risking being late to get both the kids. So we start with the bathroom, but first I had to get a cart because they no longer house them in the store. I'm holding Vivian and finally locate a dry cart under the shelter and Sam insists on pulling it out. This takes way longer then necessary. We get the cart into the store and park it next to the bathrooms and a put a few things in it so it doesn't get taken. I have to talk Sam out of leaving a note on it with our name (where does he get these things from?). So we go to the bathroom. Now I have to untuck my shirt, undo my belt, and pants with one hand and pee holding Vivian, since there is no where to put her. For some reason Sam decides to crawl on the floor. I can't yank him up because I'm trying to pee. I convince him that it's disgusting. He starts to get up as I am trying to rip a piece of toilet paper off the giant roll that is inconveniently not in a dispenser. The roll immediately flies off of the handicap railing and bounces off Sam who is half up from crawling on the floor. He wails and yells that he was "getting off the floor and why did you throw toilet paper at me?" Obviously someone chooses that moment to enter the bathroom. Then we get to open the stall door to greet the person who now thinks I whip industrial size toilet paper rolls at my three year old. We wash our hands, one at a time, since I am still holding Vivian, and Sam has crawled across the floor.
Now we get to grocery shop. Sam wants to push the cart that Vivian is in (which was still there despite us not leaving our names on it). So he pushes, but I have to steer. People think this is adorable and have to stop and tell us several times, which reinforces in Sam's mind that he needs to push the cart. It takes about three times as long as it should to get the few items we need, plus the obvious discussion we have to have every time Sam spots something that he thinks is delicious, punctuated by Vivian's shrieks.
"No. We have mac n' cheese."
"No, we don't need pomegranate juice for $7.99." (for what appears to be about 12 oz)
"No, we are not getting cherries for $8.99 a pound (really??? How many cherries would I actually get for $9.00?"
"You're right, we haven't had those cookies in a very, very, very long time. And we're still not going to get them."
"Oh yes. I do see that very delicious looking chocolate cake. Yes, for your birthday."
"We don't need two loaves of bread."
"Or the same exact bagels that you didn't eat last time I bought them."
"Or the same exact yogurt that you don't actually like, it just has good pictures on the package."
"We have popcorn at home."
"You had veggie chips for snack, we are not buying more."
"Yes, we can get apples."
We pick up samples of bread slices. Vivian tosses her bread on the floor then shrieks for it. I get her another one. Then Sam is doing the pee-pee dance and we are in the produce section, which is on the exact opposite side of the store from the bathroom. The child who I finally toilet trained. He checks his leg to make sure he hasn't peed. We rush back to the bathroom area and have the same conversation about not labeling our cart with our names because it was there last time, whip Viv out of the cart, and run back into the bathroom. Now I am tugging his pants down with one hand, but we make it on time. Vivian drops her bread and starts to cry. And somehow we're back where we started, in the bathroom with a crying kid. Sam finishes, picks up Vivian's bread and tries to throw it away in the sanitary bin depository. "No!" I yell.
"Why not?"
"Just no- the trash by the sink."
"But..."
We return to the produce section, with the cart that was there again with no names on it. It now appears that we have been in the store (that is thankfully a very small grocery store), for forty-five minutes. We have about 8 things in the cart. We get Vivian another bread sample and this time I rip it in half and put half in my pocket for when she drops it again.
"Mom."
"Yes?"
"I think Vivian pooped."
I close my eyes and think about where the diaper bag is and about going back to the bathroom. I sniff around suspiciously. I decide it's the brussel sprouts and we leave it at that.
We make it to the door of the store, I have remembered none of my reusable bags (there are about ten in car but virtually impossible to get them), so everything is in paper bags, and it is pouring out. Twenty pound Vivian is no longer in the cart having reached her maximum and she is not a quiet kid when she's mad, so I'm holding her, steering the cart that I have negotiated with Sam for, with one hand. I don't even know who or what to put in the car first. Finally we run across the parking lot and I open the hatchback and park the cart and Sam under it, while I load a screaming Vivian into the car. Luckily we are parked over a drain, so Sam is mesmerized by the flowing water and doesn't move.
By the time we get home and I unload the soggy bags (none ripped thank goodness), it is quarter to five. I again get to choose who and what to bring in the house first, second, and third, because this trip involves all of our lunch stuff from the day, the two outfits Vivian has been through, my work stuff, purse, and Sam's school stuff. This gives me a fifteen minute window to put away the groceries and get dinner together before Vivian needs to be picked up or she will scream bloody murder. During which time, obviously, the children have to play directly under my feet. Because it's really lucky that we switched bedrooms around again this weekend so that their playroom can be off the kitchen within eyesight.
How did my mother have three children? And I'll obviously find that half piece of sample bread in my pocket months from now...
Today was rainy and by the afternoon, raining steadily. After work, I got Vivian and then picked Sam up at school and needed to stop for a few groceries on the way home. We get to the store and I really had to pee. I didn't have time after the students left my classroom, without risking being late to get both the kids. So we start with the bathroom, but first I had to get a cart because they no longer house them in the store. I'm holding Vivian and finally locate a dry cart under the shelter and Sam insists on pulling it out. This takes way longer then necessary. We get the cart into the store and park it next to the bathrooms and a put a few things in it so it doesn't get taken. I have to talk Sam out of leaving a note on it with our name (where does he get these things from?). So we go to the bathroom. Now I have to untuck my shirt, undo my belt, and pants with one hand and pee holding Vivian, since there is no where to put her. For some reason Sam decides to crawl on the floor. I can't yank him up because I'm trying to pee. I convince him that it's disgusting. He starts to get up as I am trying to rip a piece of toilet paper off the giant roll that is inconveniently not in a dispenser. The roll immediately flies off of the handicap railing and bounces off Sam who is half up from crawling on the floor. He wails and yells that he was "getting off the floor and why did you throw toilet paper at me?" Obviously someone chooses that moment to enter the bathroom. Then we get to open the stall door to greet the person who now thinks I whip industrial size toilet paper rolls at my three year old. We wash our hands, one at a time, since I am still holding Vivian, and Sam has crawled across the floor.
Now we get to grocery shop. Sam wants to push the cart that Vivian is in (which was still there despite us not leaving our names on it). So he pushes, but I have to steer. People think this is adorable and have to stop and tell us several times, which reinforces in Sam's mind that he needs to push the cart. It takes about three times as long as it should to get the few items we need, plus the obvious discussion we have to have every time Sam spots something that he thinks is delicious, punctuated by Vivian's shrieks.
"No. We have mac n' cheese."
"No, we don't need pomegranate juice for $7.99." (for what appears to be about 12 oz)
"No, we are not getting cherries for $8.99 a pound (really??? How many cherries would I actually get for $9.00?"
"You're right, we haven't had those cookies in a very, very, very long time. And we're still not going to get them."
"Oh yes. I do see that very delicious looking chocolate cake. Yes, for your birthday."
"We don't need two loaves of bread."
"Or the same exact bagels that you didn't eat last time I bought them."
"Or the same exact yogurt that you don't actually like, it just has good pictures on the package."
"We have popcorn at home."
"You had veggie chips for snack, we are not buying more."
"Yes, we can get apples."
We pick up samples of bread slices. Vivian tosses her bread on the floor then shrieks for it. I get her another one. Then Sam is doing the pee-pee dance and we are in the produce section, which is on the exact opposite side of the store from the bathroom. The child who I finally toilet trained. He checks his leg to make sure he hasn't peed. We rush back to the bathroom area and have the same conversation about not labeling our cart with our names because it was there last time, whip Viv out of the cart, and run back into the bathroom. Now I am tugging his pants down with one hand, but we make it on time. Vivian drops her bread and starts to cry. And somehow we're back where we started, in the bathroom with a crying kid. Sam finishes, picks up Vivian's bread and tries to throw it away in the sanitary bin depository. "No!" I yell.
"Why not?"
"Just no- the trash by the sink."
"But..."
"Mom."
"Yes?"
"I think Vivian pooped."
I close my eyes and think about where the diaper bag is and about going back to the bathroom. I sniff around suspiciously. I decide it's the brussel sprouts and we leave it at that.
We make it to the door of the store, I have remembered none of my reusable bags (there are about ten in car but virtually impossible to get them), so everything is in paper bags, and it is pouring out. Twenty pound Vivian is no longer in the cart having reached her maximum and she is not a quiet kid when she's mad, so I'm holding her, steering the cart that I have negotiated with Sam for, with one hand. I don't even know who or what to put in the car first. Finally we run across the parking lot and I open the hatchback and park the cart and Sam under it, while I load a screaming Vivian into the car. Luckily we are parked over a drain, so Sam is mesmerized by the flowing water and doesn't move.
By the time we get home and I unload the soggy bags (none ripped thank goodness), it is quarter to five. I again get to choose who and what to bring in the house first, second, and third, because this trip involves all of our lunch stuff from the day, the two outfits Vivian has been through, my work stuff, purse, and Sam's school stuff. This gives me a fifteen minute window to put away the groceries and get dinner together before Vivian needs to be picked up or she will scream bloody murder. During which time, obviously, the children have to play directly under my feet. Because it's really lucky that we switched bedrooms around again this weekend so that their playroom can be off the kitchen within eyesight.
How did my mother have three children? And I'll obviously find that half piece of sample bread in my pocket months from now...
Tuesday, October 1, 2013
Dairy Free
I've started a couple of posts about Vivian being intolerant to dairy, but never finished or posted any of them. Today it's on my mind though. Her intolerance was something we figured out when she was about a month old and would sometimes projectile vomit when I breastfed her, or be generally uncomfortable and cry for up to five hours a day. It kind of came to a head and at her one month appointment, after she had been crying multiple hours a day and I just thought she was colicky. However her pediatrician suggested that I cut dairy out of my diet.
I kind of did, stopped eating cheese and having yogurt, etc and it reduced the crying, but her stool tested positive for blood, so I had to completely cut it out. No baked goods with butter or milk, including many breads, no cheese, butter, milk, ice-cream, etc. The harder ones were the ones you don't think about, deli meat, hot dogs, veggie burgers... I could go on and on. It made me rethink my diet and many things that we take for granted (pizza nights!), but all in all it hasn't been too bad. Eating out has been tricky or going to people's houses for dinner or parties, but for me, there's an end in sight, when I finish breastfeeding. It also made me eat more fresh and less processed food, which is a good habit.
I was hopeful Vivian would outgrow this stage. Sam had a similar intolerance though not as severe. He never drank cow's milk, he would get ill if he did (and still doesn't drink it). When he turned three he could tolerate yogurt and ice-cream. I thought Vivian would be the same.
Today though, at pick-up at Sam's school, we were sitting on the playground and she was crawling around on a beach towel when she picked up a bag of open Goldfish snacks and was mouthing them. I took them away within seconds, but she immediately turned bright red and started gagging. She threw up and kind of whimpered, but her face returned to it's normal color and she seemed okay. She had a couple of small bumps around her mouth, but was breathing well and was kind of cuddly, but was back to herself within minutes.
I guess this was the first time she had ingested a product with milk or cheese directly. After a call to the pediatrician they told us to take her to an allergist before introducing her to any other new foods, since it would be considered a trace amount, just the crumbs or residue as she hadn't actually ingested a cracker. I'm still hoping it was a chance encounter, that there was something else that made her cough (she was trying to eat leaves a few minutes before). Hoping for the best and thankful that it was a quick incident and I was there. No more cheesy snacks around here for a while!
I kind of did, stopped eating cheese and having yogurt, etc and it reduced the crying, but her stool tested positive for blood, so I had to completely cut it out. No baked goods with butter or milk, including many breads, no cheese, butter, milk, ice-cream, etc. The harder ones were the ones you don't think about, deli meat, hot dogs, veggie burgers... I could go on and on. It made me rethink my diet and many things that we take for granted (pizza nights!), but all in all it hasn't been too bad. Eating out has been tricky or going to people's houses for dinner or parties, but for me, there's an end in sight, when I finish breastfeeding. It also made me eat more fresh and less processed food, which is a good habit.
I was hopeful Vivian would outgrow this stage. Sam had a similar intolerance though not as severe. He never drank cow's milk, he would get ill if he did (and still doesn't drink it). When he turned three he could tolerate yogurt and ice-cream. I thought Vivian would be the same.
Today though, at pick-up at Sam's school, we were sitting on the playground and she was crawling around on a beach towel when she picked up a bag of open Goldfish snacks and was mouthing them. I took them away within seconds, but she immediately turned bright red and started gagging. She threw up and kind of whimpered, but her face returned to it's normal color and she seemed okay. She had a couple of small bumps around her mouth, but was breathing well and was kind of cuddly, but was back to herself within minutes.
I guess this was the first time she had ingested a product with milk or cheese directly. After a call to the pediatrician they told us to take her to an allergist before introducing her to any other new foods, since it would be considered a trace amount, just the crumbs or residue as she hadn't actually ingested a cracker. I'm still hoping it was a chance encounter, that there was something else that made her cough (she was trying to eat leaves a few minutes before). Hoping for the best and thankful that it was a quick incident and I was there. No more cheesy snacks around here for a while!
Wednesday, August 28, 2013
Vivian's Solids
Our baby who wants nothing to do with solid food, but will scream bloody murder if you try to take grass or leaves away from her. She wants nothing to do with cereal, mashed banana, or applesauce. Chris jokingly suggested giving her lettuce or spinach leaves. This is only thing that she doesn't make faces when mouthing.
Sucking on spinach from my salad at lunch.
Thursday, July 4, 2013
Cookie Monster
I can home to a very messy floor and counter where Sam had eaten lunch with a babysitter. When he woke up from his nap, we had the following nonsensical conversation:
I pointed to the mess:
Me: "Sam, what's this?"
Sam: "Crumbs from my lunch. I was eating chips like Cookie Monster."
Me: "Okay, well you need to clean them up. Get the broom."
Sam: "Cookie Monster doesn't clean up."
True...
Me: "Yes, but you're not Cookie Monster."
Sam: "But I want to be Cookie Monster."
Ahh, yes, that would be nice. Eat cookies all day.
Me: "Ok, well since you're not Cookie Monster, we're going to clean up the crumbs. Together."
Sam: "Ok. Maybe we should teach Cookie Monster to clean up so his Mommy doesn't see a mess."
"Good plan."
I pointed to the mess:
Me: "Sam, what's this?"
Sam: "Crumbs from my lunch. I was eating chips like Cookie Monster."
Me: "Okay, well you need to clean them up. Get the broom."
Sam: "Cookie Monster doesn't clean up."
True...
Me: "Yes, but you're not Cookie Monster."
Sam: "But I want to be Cookie Monster."
Ahh, yes, that would be nice. Eat cookies all day.
Me: "Ok, well since you're not Cookie Monster, we're going to clean up the crumbs. Together."
Sam: "Ok. Maybe we should teach Cookie Monster to clean up so his Mommy doesn't see a mess."
"Good plan."
Wednesday, April 10, 2013
Ahh, These Moments...
After school today, we hung out at the park at Sam's school, getting the last of the warm, sunny weather for a few days. Sam rode his scooter with his friends and then we stopped for a new helmet at a bike store sale. When we got home, it was late, and Sam and Vivian were hungry. I got Sam's dinner together while juggling the baby and decided to let him eat at his little table in the dining room, while I fed Vivian on the couch nearby, instead of trying to push a late family dinner.
Chris arrived home for a short while before going back out to a meeting. He sat at the dining room table trying to prepare for his meeting, while taking a business phone call. Meanwhile, Vivian spit up/threw up down my back and over the back of the couch. I got up and took my shirt off and handed Chris the baby, so I could clean up. In the kitchen rinsing off my shirt and a couch pillow and monitoring Chris and I's dinner, I heard Sam screaming about being stuck. I ran back into the dining room, where Chris was trying to pry Sam's feet out of the back of his little chair where they were wedged, still holding the baby, balancing on his non-broken foot. We got them unwedged and calmed him down, and I asked Chris to wipe the spit up off my back, while Vivian started to cry.
About five minutes later, when all was calm again, we realized Chris's client was still on other end of the abandoned phone, listening to the commotion and patiently waiting for him to return.
Chris arrived home for a short while before going back out to a meeting. He sat at the dining room table trying to prepare for his meeting, while taking a business phone call. Meanwhile, Vivian spit up/threw up down my back and over the back of the couch. I got up and took my shirt off and handed Chris the baby, so I could clean up. In the kitchen rinsing off my shirt and a couch pillow and monitoring Chris and I's dinner, I heard Sam screaming about being stuck. I ran back into the dining room, where Chris was trying to pry Sam's feet out of the back of his little chair where they were wedged, still holding the baby, balancing on his non-broken foot. We got them unwedged and calmed him down, and I asked Chris to wipe the spit up off my back, while Vivian started to cry.
About five minutes later, when all was calm again, we realized Chris's client was still on other end of the abandoned phone, listening to the commotion and patiently waiting for him to return.
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
Muffins
This Pinterest website has been taking up way too much of my time. Sometimes it's productive, like finding teaching tools and ideas or recipes. Working with that productivity, I found a good, healthy recipe for muffins. Muffins are one of Sam's favorite breakfast foods and sometimes the only thing we can get him to eat. When we have exhausted all possibilities in the house and then I have to rush to work, I tend to give in and get him a muffin if I pick up a coffee. I hate the idea of dropping him off hungry, basically because we're trying to feed him five minutes after he wakes up, when he's really not ready to eat.
I realized this may have become a habit when he was driving his little men in a toy car the other day, and when I asked, "where are they going?" and he answered, "Drive. Coffee n' muffin!"
I finally realized that the alternative to this would be to make healthy, "nutritious" muffins and freeze some, so we always have a back-up.
Here is the healthy recipe that I then tweaked and make less healthy ; )
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon sea salt
1 1/2 cup wheat flour
1/2 a cup of oats1/3 cup applesauce
Step 1: Mash bananas, add cinnamon and egg - beat it a little. Add apple sauce and mix. Top with the dry, mix together, mix into the wet.
Step 2: Scoop batter into muffin trays. Bake at 375 for 20 minutes.
I was so tempted to put chocolate chips in them, but restrained myself!
I realized this may have become a habit when he was driving his little men in a toy car the other day, and when I asked, "where are they going?" and he answered, "Drive. Coffee n' muffin!"
I finally realized that the alternative to this would be to make healthy, "nutritious" muffins and freeze some, so we always have a back-up.
Here is the healthy recipe that I then tweaked and make less healthy ; )
3 large bananas, well ripe
2 teaspoons of butter
1 bigish egg
1 teaspoon cinnamon 1 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon sea salt
1 1/2 cup wheat flour
1/2 a cup of oats1/3 cup applesauce
Step 1: Mash bananas, add cinnamon and egg - beat it a little. Add apple sauce and mix. Top with the dry, mix together, mix into the wet.
Step 2: Scoop batter into muffin trays. Bake at 375 for 20 minutes.
I was so tempted to put chocolate chips in them, but restrained myself!
Thursday, November 24, 2011
Thanksgiving Thoughts- Thich Nhat Hanh
This food is the gift of the whole universe—the earth, the sky, and much hard work.
May we eat it in mindfulness, so as to be worthy to receive it.
May we transform our unskillful states of mind, especially our greed.
May we accept this food so that we may realize the path of understanding and love.
Monday, September 26, 2011
Cake!
September is a month in which we celebrate a lot of birthdays in our family. This past weekend we celebrated my Dad's birthday, who Sam calls "Go-Go." When we brought the cake out and sang "Happy Birthday" Sam clapped and called, "more!" so we all sang again. Today I called my Dad to say "happy birthday." After I hung up Sam wanted to hear the "Happy Birthday" song again, so we sang it a few times. Later on when Chris came home, Sam got us to sing it again. When we had finished, he clapped and said, "Yay!" He paused, then looked at us and asked, "cake?!"
Singing "Happy Birthday" is so fun, especially when it ends with cake!
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
"Trash, Mama"
Sam was eating lunch the other day after he had woken up from a nap. I gave him chicken and made peas while he was working on the chicken. When I offered him the peas (offer is what baby books tell you to do- instead of giving it to the child?), he shook his head and said, "no." This is a new word for him and it is using it whenever he can. So I put the peas aside and a few minutes later set the bowl of peas back down on his tray. He looked a me like, "haven't we discussed this already?"
"No," he said a little more vehemently. I retreated again with the peas (which he really does like).
When he finished his chicken I picked up the empty bowl and surreptitiously placed the peas back on his tray. He looked at the bowl, picked it up and held it out to me, and told me, "trash."
He repeated it again, just in case I didn't hear him the first time.
He actually ate the peas in the end, despite his direction to throw them away. I used to think he picked things up being around other people, but since I have been with him all summer, I am now wondering, where does he get it from?
"No," he said a little more vehemently. I retreated again with the peas (which he really does like). When he finished his chicken I picked up the empty bowl and surreptitiously placed the peas back on his tray. He looked at the bowl, picked it up and held it out to me, and told me, "trash."
He repeated it again, just in case I didn't hear him the first time.
Saturday, July 16, 2011
Spaghetti Dinner
Now he is explaining it's time to go play with his toys, over there. There is no concern for the mess on his tray, the wall, in his hair, or on his lap!
Friday, October 22, 2010
Sam Loves to Eat
He just loves it. He is happiest when a.) I am carrying him around b.) when he is eating. Eating anything.
Sam is eight months old now. He started eating (solids) when he was five months. That was not planned. It was entirely to get through the night so that I could function when I went back to teaching full time. I was told from helpful advice-givers to have him take a little bit of rice cereal before bed. Sam did not like this plan. He did not want to take rice cereal unless there was fruit mixed in. Against all intelligent parenting, we started with sweet fruits, cooked down apples and mashed banana with rice cereal. He was in heaven.
Everything about eating appeals to Sam.
When we first got out and assembled the high chair, it was so that Sam could be at our level. The floor, swing, baby bouncer, and the bassinette where not places that Sam liked to be. Propped in his high chair with rolled blankets, he would happily observe the world and the kitchen. Sam’s large brown eyes began to focus on his father’s sandwich, my iced coffees, and bottles were fascinating and thrilling, as he learned about food.
At four months old, at his great-uncle’s summer home, we sat by the pool. The large umbrella provided shade from the hot summer sun. Sam was not enticed by the light dancing on the blue of the pool or the flowers blooming on the bushes behind us, but by the shiny beer can placed on the glass table. He tried desperately to grab it.
Now, we sit him in the high chair and his face lights up. He beats his little hands on the plastic tray, demanding food. The puffed cereal container sits next to him, and he reaches for it, occasionally securing a grasp and pulling it onto his tray. A few times I have found a mound of cereal poured by a very excited baby as he wrestles with the plastic container. Sam loves to eat. He loves his veggies, his fruits, being spoon fed, and picking up food with his fingers. Chopped foods disappear at a high rate of speed. A few days ago he discovered a great ability to pick up more than one item at once to deliver it to his mouth.
A well-meaning friend offered to feed him one morning while I made pancakes. I handed her his cereal and fruit and a little rubber tipped spoon. She filled the spoon and ran it through the air like an airplane. Sam was not amused. He head dove for the spoon, which proceeded to zip away. Sam reached for the spoon, looking gravely at my friend. Finally the spoon reached his mouth, and went back to the bowl for another spoonful, then started the airplane ride again. Sam was not having fun with this activity. In his mind I am guessing, the food was being withheld. He let out a wail.
“I guess he doesn’t want to eat,” my friend commented.
“Hmm,” I said, “Perhaps a more direct route to his mouth, I think the airplane isn’t necessary.”
“Oh no,” she replied, “babies love this.”
Well maybe babies love it, but Sam wants food immediately, I thought. Poor guy, his face was scrunched up in frustration, his eyes trained on the food bowl and stagnant spoon. We switched, I fed Sam, she flipped pancakes.
It has gotten to the point where it is hard to eat in front of Sam, without him eating. If we want a snack, my husband and I take turns retreating to the kitchen, while Sam is otherwise occupied. The first time the child willfully crawled, was away from his aunt, to remove the top of my sandwich and insert it in his mouth, before either of us could stop him. He literally dove out of my arms once towards a brownie that my friend was eating. Luckily we were sitting on the couch at the time.
I am vaguely concerned that he might like his food too much, but with good habits set now (no brownies), lots of fruits and veggies, and specific mealtimes, I think it will be okay. Food is important in both sides of our family. I come from a family that always had mealtimes together, and still have Sunday dinners. The Italian side always welcomes people in their homes to eat. My husband’s family have gardens every summer and grown their own vegetables. He and I both enjoy cooking and sharing good meals.
I like to thank that Sam’s desire to eat is healthy. His chubby little face is content as he learns to enjoy mealtimes and he chats with pleasure as he feeds himself. He watches the people around him and tries to interact. I hope that family mealtimes are something that he continues when he is older. For now, the baby food I made this morning, that I was hoping would last a couple of weeks, will probably be eaten sooner, but that’s okay.
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