Irene's 1-year and 15-month stats

With her 18-month appointment just around the corner, I thought I'd catch up on Irene's height/weight stats.  Since I really don't think there is a single word in her baby book, this stuff should be documented somewhere, and I know it's enthralling for my occasional blog audience.

Irene was sick with a fever the day before her one-year appointment.  They wanted me to go ahead and come in for the height/weight check but I had them push back the shots.  So it was a nice, easy appointment.  Daphne said that her molars were getting ready to come in - and they were!  Irene has had all her teeth break through in groups - like 4 at a time.  But it hasn't bothered her too much.
Anyway, she weighed 19 lbs 2 ounces, which landed her in the 16th %tile and her height was 29 inches - 42nd %tile.  Head was 92nd %tile.  We had just started testing her on solid foods, so everyone was pretty pleased with her growth.

Not so much with the 15-month appointment.  There was really nothing fun about it.  First, I woke Irene up to get her down there on time, only to tell me that I didn't have an appointment in the system.  I knew for a FACT that we were there at the right time/day - I had double checked the card hanging on our fridge on my way out the door.  So there was a little back and forth with the nurse, with the end result being that I had to leave and come back an hour and a half later which required me to get my mom to pick Audrey up from school and threw off a few other scheduled errands.  Oh, and we wouldn't even get to see our pediatrician.  I was so. freaking. mad. but am apparently the biggest wimp in the world.  I'm really good friends with our doctor, but did I play that card?  No.  It was one of those cases where I actually wouldn't have been that angry - after all, everyone makes mistakes - but they were CLEARLY in the wrong, and didn't even offer a simple "I'm sorry for the inconvenience".  Anyway!!  Irene's weight was 20 lbs 5 ounces - in the wee 9th %tile, and height was 30.25", 32nd %tile.  Head still 92nd %tile.  Although I actually really like the doctor we saw, I didn't like how he lectured me on her size and talked about pushing calories.  At this point, she was drinking whole milk and eating solid foods.  She would eat until she was full - what more could I ask for?  I'm not going to force feed my child.  I didn't think I would get a similar lecture about putting her on a diet if she were in the 91st %tile.

So I've been excited to see what her growth would look like this appointment.  She's been eating like a pig, and I've been thinking there has to have been some jump in either height or weight.  But then she had to go and get sick this weekend, so I'm afraid it might have set her back a bit - we'll see.

In addition to the growth issues and her food issues, Irene's speech has been a little bit of a concern.  She is finally saying a few words, so hopefully it'll take off here soon.  We just watched a video of Audrey at this age exactly - she was saying, "Happy Birthday Grandpa Elser!  I love you Grandma Elser!"  Not that I'm comparing - I would never do that.

I think I will check Irene's Baby Stats on the Wii Fit so I'm prepared for Thursday!

Oh that's okay, we have plenty of chaperones...

I fully expect to hear those words for the rest of Audrey's school days.  Or certainly for the rest of this year, until today's debacle fades from memory.  Audrey's class went on a field trip to the Explorium today.  Even though she's been there plenty of times with friends, she LOVES school, and I wanted her to get to participate with her friends.  But Friday is not her normal school day (she only goes Tues/Thurs) which means that I would have to accompany her, which in turn means that I would be a chaperone.  (I guess I could have gone and not volunteered to be a chaperone, but obviously that would be weird.)

I looked at the chaperone e-mail list and thought, okay, great, 6-7 moms + 2 teachers for 20 kids = no problem.  But when I showed up today, two of the moms had cancelled.  Not cool, not cool at all.  Especially since their kids were still there!  So this meant that everyone was assigned 3 kids, including the teachers, which meant they were not as free to help things run smoothly.  Two things about this fieldtrip made being in charge of 3 3-year-olds a bit scary.  First, we were walking to the Explorium.  It's about a half-mile from school, through downtown Lexington.  So lots of streets to cross, broken beer bottles, etc. etc.  And there is a HUGE difference between having 2 or 3 kids to manage... because, you know, you only have two hands.  The second complicating factor was the nature of the Explorium itself.  There are lots of places to *explore* obviously!  Which is great, except when you are trying to keep 3 active children in your line of vision.  I'm pretty sure I achieved the equivalent of a 7 mile training run trying to keep track of my girls.

The walk over was great - I held the hands of the two kids I didn't know, and put Audrey on the outside.  Smooth sailing.  The Explorium itself went reasonably well.  At one point I "lost" Audrey and the thought that went through my head was "Thank God it's my own kid that I'm missing".  It's stressful to be in charge of someone else's precious child!  The wheels fell off on the walk home.  Needless to say, the fatigue was starting to hit the kids.  Audrey didn't want to be on the outside anymore, she wanted to hold my hand.  Okay, fine, I had good girls with me, so I put E on the outside.  We walked in peace until waiting to cross Broadway, by far the largest street on our path.  At this point, another little girl decided that she wanted to join us - specifically, she wanted to hold Audrey's hand.   (This little girl is worthy of a blog post, but I don't know if it's kosher to bash other people's children on the internet.)  As she was pushing/pulling Audrey and E apart, E was getting closer to the street.  By the time I could get a handle of the situation (hello?  Where was the mom who was assigned to this hellion?  Why am I wrangling 4 girls now?) E was taking a nonchalant step off the curb, onto Broadway, where there happened to be a very large silver truck barreling our way.  I said (okay, possibly yelled) E!!!! and grabbed her arm, pulling her back to safety.  At which point she dissolved into tears.  For the rest of the walk home, she held on tight with both hands, while Audrey kept up a steady stream of "I'm really sorry that you almost got hit by a truck E!"  It was terrific.  Really.  When I said goodbye to her in the classroom she gave me a big hug and then cried on my shoulder for a while.  Fantastic!!!  I can't WAIT to get a phone call from her mother!

If I could afford it, I would buy Audrey's teacher a new car.  Or a house - whatever she wanted.  I'm not even kidding, I think the woman might possibly be an actual saint.

Strike three???

I hurt my knee again on Sunday.  Well, actually, someone else hurt my knee on Sunday.  An overzealous player in my women's game came barreling in from the side and struck me on the outside of the knee while my foot was planted, buckling it inward.  It's a textbook knee injury, one that usually results in an MCL tear, and unfortunately, sometimes an ACL tear.  I can't get in to see my doctor until Wednesday of next week, so that means SEVEN more days of not knowing.  Seven more days of going back and forth, convincing myself one minute that it's torn, because that's how I roll - I don't do injuries unless they are big - and then the next minute giving myself hope that it's not torn, because of all the differences in this injury compared to my other two knee injuries, trying to perform the Lachman test on myself (impossible) and Googling knee injury causes, symptoms, etc. over and over and over.  It's a bit stilly, since I have a ridiculous amount of knee injury knowledge and experience already stored up and Google really can't tell me anything new.  But it's like a disease!  A compulsion!  I can't stop!

If you're curious, it's my left knee.  The original bad knee.  It was only temporarily the good knee, while I went through my surgery/rehab for my right knee in 2003.  It was quickly back to the bad knee, when my meniscus tear started flaring up.  But it's been serving me well, getting me through half marathons, trail running and triathlons.

I don't know if I can do the ACL thing again.  I mean, I know I will have to if it's torn.  But I can't really wrap my head around the whole surgery process, when two small children are involved.  Sigh.  I just want to know what I need to gear up for.  The waiting really is the hardest part.  Well, I mean, except for the surgery part.

Fingers crossed until next Wednesday...  And you may be seeing lots of manic blog posts, as I try to distract myself and stay somewhat sane without the calming effects of exercise.  Oh yeah, did I mention the Bourbon Chase is this weekend??  No big deal - I've only been looking forward to that for TWO YEARS.  I'm standing on a ledge, people.  (Not really - don't worry about calling in the psych folks yet.  Wait until the diagnosis!)

Introducing - the glasses!

I don't have any pictures since we had the glasses adjusted by a competent person, so these are all of the "too big" variety, but still cute.

This might be my current favorite picture.

Sleep

It's all I think about.  I've been operating in a fog of fatigue lately - which is probably a contributing factor to my down-in-the-dumps previous post.  (Thanks for all the pep talks by the way!  You guys are awesome.)  Fatigue is an amazing thing - the way it can magnify the smallest, most insignificant little thing and turn it into The End of The World.  And vice versa, when I'm well rested, there just isn't much that can bother me.  The sign that I may have hit a pretty low point?  I believe I sent no fewer than 3 e-mails yesterday to a friend ranting about people who announce their baby's gender using the phrase "It's a Girl!" or "It's a Boy!" mid-pregnancy*.  I still really think that should be reserved for the day of birth, but really?  Why am I thinking about and dwelling on this?  I have problems.  Or one problem, whose name begins with I.  (*ETA - I'm talking about global announcements, like Facebook or G-mail status updates, where you are reaching an audience that doesn't have your due date circled on their calendar and may be left wondering whether it was a premature birth or just a happy gender announcement.)

Irene is sleeping with about as much skill as a 3-week old.  I'm talking about me sleeping no more than 3 hours at a stretch, and sometimes less.  And when she does sleep for a nice 6 hour stretch??  Invariably, that is when Audrey wakes up because she wet the bed - right smack in the middle of Irene's longest stretch of sleep.  That damn Murphy and his crappy law.  (I'm thinking about changing Irene's nickname from Duck to Murphy, by the way)

It's just tough - I'm in uncharted territory with an exclusively breastfed 10-month-old.  I'm not opposed to cry-it-out by any stretch of the imagination.  That was the trick we used when Audrey was 4 months old and we ended up with a baby who slept 12-14 hours straight every single night.  I'm a believer.  But Irene has thrown me off - she goes to sleep by herself nooooo problem.  So when she wakes up after a few hours I have that doubt - is she hungry?  I can let a baby with a sleep problem cry, but I can't let a hungry baby cry!  What to do?

At least she seems to be reacting less lately (based on my expert diaper analysis) so I'm hopeful that we are getting close to solid food successes.  We are heading to the allergist on Thursday.  I'm not sure how much it will help, but hey, I'm not opposed to talking to an expert.

Here's a gratuitous photo of the little rascal.

It's a good thing she's cute.

I suck at this.

No, not blogging.  Well, I mean, sure, that too, but I've come to terms with that, and really kind of embraced it.  No, I'm talking about all of this - parenting, household maintenance, managing life in general, perhaps?  I've always been disorganized - messy room growing up, messy room in college (sorry Steph!), messy house as an adult, messy office at work - you get the picture.  But being a stay-at-home-mom has put an entirely new spin on things, because I spend so much more time here at home now (to put it very, very mildly).  It's not just my home base, it's also my "job".  And of course, the state of the house impacts two little people now, so I feel like it should be more of a priority and I should try to work on it in between eating bon-bons.  (Everyone knows that's a stay-at-home-mom myth, right?  THERE IS NO TIME FOR BON-BONS.)

After forgetting about Audrey's preschool homework (bringing in pictures from home) until the morning of school on two separate occasions I decided to try to get a little more on top of things.  So now I'm trying out the novel concept of actually putting things on the calendar and then looking at the calendar!  Seriously - how on earth did I make it through 4 years of college?  I've been feeling like I'm making some progress; staying on top of the kitchen a little better, decluttering in stages, trying to find a place for everything, etc. etc.  But one major roadblock for me has been meal planning.  I absolutely know that having meals planned out for the week would make an immeasurable difference in how smoothly things go around here, but ugh...  I just hate it.  Part of the problem was wanting to have a perfect menu - that made everyone happy, maximized the use of our CSA vegetables, was nutritious, and so on.  And then after finally coming up with a weeks worth of meals, the thought of shopping for everything?  Ugh again.

Well, this week I decided I was going to make it happen, and yay! as of tonight we are 3 for 3 on having dinner on the table at a reasonable time.  But.  There's a but.  This afternoon I was trying to get everything together, and it involved a couple of different things going into the oven, and a couple of different things on the stove.  Audrey got up from her nap, but stayed upstairs to play, which isn't uncommon.  Irene was starting to get fussy, wanting to be held, so I was counting down the minutes until Bryan got home so I could wrap things up with the food.  He walked in the door and said he was going upstairs to change.  I told him to check on his older daughter because "who knew what she was getting into".  I honestly wasn't the least bit concerned because she never does anything too crazy - just rearranges her clothes or reads 30 books.  But then I heard Bryan's voice, "Oooooh, sweetie.  Oh boy."  And I knew it was bad.  Apparently she was...  well, I have no idea exactly what she was doing, but it involved Sydney's food, water and litter box.  And they had all been combined in some form or fashion, and Audrey was doing some stirring, and I really don't want to think about it.  Litter boxes are gross.

It was a bit deflating, and reinforced my theory that if I'm doing something right (cooking a timely meal for my family) then I'm doing something else very wrong (keeping an eye on my children).  Maybe with some more practice I can get this down??  Are some people seriously born just knowing how to do all this stuff perfectly?  Sigh.  Must be nice.

***I don't know if anyone watches The Middle - but it came on as I was starting this post.  So timely!  And hilarious. Good show.

Steps for our Little Duck!

Irene took a couple of steps yesterday!  She is getting really close to walking - and she's 9 and a half months old!  Since she's freakishly mobile already, the idea of having an early walker doesn't bother me in the least.  In fact, it's really exciting to think that there will be about 2 feet between her mouth and the floor.  Surely that will make it take longer for her to put every single speck of everything into her mouth.  She is so fast, and apparently has decent fine motor skills.  At least that pincer grasp isn't a problem.  Whenever she has something in her mouth she chews like she is gnawing on a big hunk of steak.  It freaks me out, I grab her and stick my fingers down her throat trying to dig out whatever is on the verge of blocking her airway.  Sometimes I come up with something reasonably big and scary, but more often than not, I end up with a crumb that would be dwarfed by a grain of rice.  But I appreciate that she's obvious about it - even though I'm continually on the verge of heart failure.

I was watching her yesterday move from the couch to the coffee table.  At some point I started to wonder, "Wait, how is she still holding onto the couch?" and then realized she wasn't.  She basically just got some momentum going which carried her over the gap, but it was still exciting.

I keep trying to catch her doing one of my favorite Duck moves.  It's hard for a crawling child to cart their toys around with them, so she picks them up in her mouth and is on her way.  It's funny (and very dog-like).  This is the best I could get.

She is also starting to work from home, but since she's the low duck on the totem pole, she has to use the crappy old desktop.  

Should we get her something to stand on?

What?!  I'm working here!

I can't believe how fast her first birthday is approaching.  If I were one of those people who throw huge parties, I would probably already be thinking about it!