Bathtime in our house is usually full of fighting over toys, sceaming about hair washing and splashing water on Mommy. Ocassionally there is a little quiet conversation time thrown into the mix, which I truly cherish. On Friday, it went like this:
Camden: “I played with Owen today. Owen is my best friend. And Tyler is my best friend, too. Tyler is in the big-boy class [Tyler recently moved to the three-year-old room]. Owen scratched me with a stick. See…I have a boo-boo.”
Palmer: “Uh-Oh” as he dumps a cup full of water onto the bathroom floor.
Me: As I grab a towel and start mopping up, “I thought you said Owen was your best friend?”
Camden: “Owen is my best friend. And Tyler, too. I played with Own today. I need ice for my boo-boo.”
How easily two-year-olds forgive and forget. Intentional injuries and all, and they are still best friends. BTW, this Owen character also scratched Camden in the face about three months ago. He still has a scar. I’ll be happy when Camden moves to the “threes” class and gets to play with Tyler again.
So anyway, our conversation continued:
Plamer: “EEEEEEHHHHH”
Camden: “Mommy, I got a Bluetooth.”
Me: “Camden, you don’t even have a cell phone, what would you do with a Bluetooth? Plus, I wouldn’t let you have a Bluetooth. I wouldn’t want you walking around all day like a dork with that stupid earpiece on.”
Camden: “No Mommy, I got a BLUE TOOTH,” as he pulls up his lip revealing, sure enough, a blue tooth! Well, sort of a bluish gray. If you’ve been following along, you know this was semi-expected. I was really surprised that it was not the chipped tooth that turned gray; it was the other front tooth, right next to it. I guess both teeth took a pretty hard blow. One chipped off and the other died. So, now Camden is no longer just Daddy’s boy. He is, once again, truly half Mommy and half Daddy, with one chipped tooth (like Daddy) and one gray tooth (like Mommy…well, like Mommy was before I turned six and it fell out.)
Palmer: “Uh-Oh” as he dumps another cup of water on the floor.
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Friday, March 21, 2008
Kids say the...well, you know
Palmer-isms:
1. “Uh Oh!” as he intentionally throws his plate full of food on the floor, or his shoe in the garbage can.
2. “Dada” which means bye-bye, and Dempsey (our dog), but not the one thing you’d expect.
3. And the ever popular “EEEEEHHHHH” screech that substitutes for all other words he doesn’t know. Needless to say, the majority of our days are filled with endless “EEEEHHHH’s.”
Camden-isms:
1. “Mommy, I don’t like fried chicken” while watching a KFC commercial, even though he has eaten it many times and never complained.
2. The increasingly popular, but not for long “Dempsey did it.”
3. And, my personal favorite, “Mommy, you have big boobies” A phrase completely foreign to little old A-cup me.
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
Circle of Life
I finally heard back, officially, on the results of Palmer’s MRI. I subscribe to the notion that “no news is good news.” But, after a week of nothing (I don’t think they were ever going to call me) I finally decided to call and ask. The nurse came on the phone and simply said, “everything is normal.” That’s it? What do we do now? Where do we go from here? Nothing and nowhere. So, there you go – everything is normal. Well, everything except our bank account, that is; $1,000 later…everything is normal.
Camden finally got to the dentist on Saturday. He did remarkably well. He only freaked out a little bit when it was his turn to climb in the chair, but he calmed down pretty quickly. Until the dentist put her mask on. That really sent him over the edge. I guess that’s a good thing. Kids should be afraid of masked (wo)men, right? Once he was on my lap, and the dentist was maskless, he let her look in his mouth and take a picture of his tooth. As I suspected, there was no cause for concern. The chipped edge isn’t sharp, so she didn’t bother putting any putty on it (probably more trouble than it’s worth). She said the tooth might die and turn gray, but that’s about it. Funny…when I was Camden’s age, I had dead, gray front teeth from my brother head-butting me with his giant melon head! (Aha…see how it all comes full circle?)
Camden finally got to the dentist on Saturday. He did remarkably well. He only freaked out a little bit when it was his turn to climb in the chair, but he calmed down pretty quickly. Until the dentist put her mask on. That really sent him over the edge. I guess that’s a good thing. Kids should be afraid of masked (wo)men, right? Once he was on my lap, and the dentist was maskless, he let her look in his mouth and take a picture of his tooth. As I suspected, there was no cause for concern. The chipped edge isn’t sharp, so she didn’t bother putting any putty on it (probably more trouble than it’s worth). She said the tooth might die and turn gray, but that’s about it. Funny…when I was Camden’s age, I had dead, gray front teeth from my brother head-butting me with his giant melon head! (Aha…see how it all comes full circle?)
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
Head Case
Our latest adventure begins with Palmer's 12-month check-up last week (well, okay so it was a month late but I had to wait for my health insurance to kick in on March 1). They did the usual measurements of height, weight, head circumference, head circumference, and head circumference. Yes, they measured it three times just to be sure, and yes, his head circumference is 50 cm. Apparently that is way off the chart -- well over the 99th percentile. I thought it was a good thing. Big head...big brain...smart kid, right? Plus, big heads run in my family. I was sure that was all -- just a giant melon head on the poor kid. Doc, however,was concerned and ordered an MRI ASAP.
Since babies can't hold perfectly still for...well, any time at all, they have to be under general anesthesia for an MRI. That means, no food or drink after midnight the night before. Our appointment was not until 10 a.m. so I knew this was going to be an issue because, when it comes to Palmer and food, the kid can EAT! He was a bear all morning, and I had to time it wisely to get Camden to eat breakfast while I kept Palmer out of the kitchen because I knew the mere sight of food would throw him into a tizzy. At the hospital, Palmer did pretty well and even played quietly with toys until it was his turn for the gas. When the nurse asked if I had any questions, there was but one..."how soon afterward can he eat?"
When they were ready to begin, the nurse came back and scooped Palmer up and whisked him away. I was allowed to watch while the anesthesiologist fit the mask over his face, and then I was promptly instructed to leave. I am sure what she really said was, "He is going to be just fine, we'll take it from here. You can make your self comfortable in the waiting room and we will summon you when the procedure is finished so you can hold him in your arms, rest assured that he did just fine. You are such a good mother, so we'll care for him just as lovingly as if you were here yourself." But, what I heard was, "You can go now. The waiting room is that way." I didn't even get to give him one last hug and kiss, but I did a good job of holding back the tears. That is, until Rob called a few minutes later to see how everything was going, and asked, "did you cry?"
After two hours, once Palmer was fully awake, I was summoned from the waiting room by the recovery nurse. As soon as I walked into the recovery area, I could hear Palmer howling his "feed me now" cry. To my dismay (and contrary to the original nurse's answer) they would not let him eat in recovery. They said I should wait and see if he could keep down water and juice first and then wait another 30 minutes before introducing solid food. They were concerned because he was so violently agitated, but said that can sometimes be a side effect of the anesthesia. I, however, knew it was sometimes a side effect of different disorder I call "not having eaten since yesterday!" They let us leave after 30 minutes, warning me that he would likely be cranky the rest of the day. As soon as we were in the car, I started stuffing Cheerios in his face as fast as he could swallow. When we got home he ate, and ate, and ate. Interestingly enough, by the time he finished eating, the irritable side effect had also worn off -- what a coincidence. (BTW, he was successfully able to keep everything down, including the three bottles of water he drank)
As of this posting I am still waiting to hear from the doctor to find out what, if anything, the MRI revealed. The main thing they are checking for is hydrocephalus, which can't be cured, but can be successfully treated, but we believe he has a hereditary disorder called Chereck Head Syndrome (AKA giant melon head)...just as I suspected.
Since babies can't hold perfectly still for...well, any time at all, they have to be under general anesthesia for an MRI. That means, no food or drink after midnight the night before. Our appointment was not until 10 a.m. so I knew this was going to be an issue because, when it comes to Palmer and food, the kid can EAT! He was a bear all morning, and I had to time it wisely to get Camden to eat breakfast while I kept Palmer out of the kitchen because I knew the mere sight of food would throw him into a tizzy. At the hospital, Palmer did pretty well and even played quietly with toys until it was his turn for the gas. When the nurse asked if I had any questions, there was but one..."how soon afterward can he eat?"
When they were ready to begin, the nurse came back and scooped Palmer up and whisked him away. I was allowed to watch while the anesthesiologist fit the mask over his face, and then I was promptly instructed to leave. I am sure what she really said was, "He is going to be just fine, we'll take it from here. You can make your self comfortable in the waiting room and we will summon you when the procedure is finished so you can hold him in your arms, rest assured that he did just fine. You are such a good mother, so we'll care for him just as lovingly as if you were here yourself." But, what I heard was, "You can go now. The waiting room is that way." I didn't even get to give him one last hug and kiss, but I did a good job of holding back the tears. That is, until Rob called a few minutes later to see how everything was going, and asked, "did you cry?"
After two hours, once Palmer was fully awake, I was summoned from the waiting room by the recovery nurse. As soon as I walked into the recovery area, I could hear Palmer howling his "feed me now" cry. To my dismay (and contrary to the original nurse's answer) they would not let him eat in recovery. They said I should wait and see if he could keep down water and juice first and then wait another 30 minutes before introducing solid food. They were concerned because he was so violently agitated, but said that can sometimes be a side effect of the anesthesia. I, however, knew it was sometimes a side effect of different disorder I call "not having eaten since yesterday!" They let us leave after 30 minutes, warning me that he would likely be cranky the rest of the day. As soon as we were in the car, I started stuffing Cheerios in his face as fast as he could swallow. When we got home he ate, and ate, and ate. Interestingly enough, by the time he finished eating, the irritable side effect had also worn off -- what a coincidence. (BTW, he was successfully able to keep everything down, including the three bottles of water he drank)
As of this posting I am still waiting to hear from the doctor to find out what, if anything, the MRI revealed. The main thing they are checking for is hydrocephalus, which can't be cured, but can be successfully treated, but we believe he has a hereditary disorder called Chereck Head Syndrome (AKA giant melon head)...just as I suspected.
Saturday, March 8, 2008
Tooth Dismay
Although there was no blood and no ER visit, this one was quite a doozy (sp?), and Camden's got the tooth to prove it, for another three years at least.
This is sooo ironic... I was going through the mail after dinner and found my insurance card for the dental insurance at my new job. The boys have never had dental insurance before, but they are young enough that I didn't think it mattered anyway. I was excited, so I announced to the boys that, as of March 1, everyone in the family was now cleared for dental work. YAY!
No joke, not an hour later, I had the boys in the bathtub and Camden was doing his usual acrobatic stunts and I was doing my usual yelling to "knock it off before you get hurt," and he was doing his usual ignoring everything I say. No sooner had the words "Mommy, I be vewy carefuw," come out of his mouth when his arm slipped out from underneath him, and he did a face plant on the edge of the tub.
He started to scream, so of course I did what any loving mother would do...I said "see, that's why I told you not to do that. I told you you were going to get hurt." I swear, I said that only after I confirmed there was no blood. When he wouldn't stop screaming, I investigated further. I gasped and said a very bad word when I saw it...
...A CHIPPED TOOTH!
It wasn't bad enough to need emergency care. It wasn't chipped high enough to bleed, and Camden was up to his old tricks within the hour. He has his first dentist appt. tomorrow just to make sure there was no root damage, and so they can put a little piece of putty on it to keep it from scraping his lip. TG for my new job and dental insurance!
It's funny. Everyone always comments that Camden looks just like Rob, and that is truer than ever. Now they have matching chipped teeth. Rob got his in a bunk bed related incident when he was nine, and it's been that way ever since. Camden's will be gone by the time he's six, but now that I think about it, we do have bunk beds for the boys. The beds are separate right now, and I think we'll keep it that way until they're old enough to know better (what age is that, 19? 20?)
This is sooo ironic... I was going through the mail after dinner and found my insurance card for the dental insurance at my new job. The boys have never had dental insurance before, but they are young enough that I didn't think it mattered anyway. I was excited, so I announced to the boys that, as of March 1, everyone in the family was now cleared for dental work. YAY!
No joke, not an hour later, I had the boys in the bathtub and Camden was doing his usual acrobatic stunts and I was doing my usual yelling to "knock it off before you get hurt," and he was doing his usual ignoring everything I say. No sooner had the words "Mommy, I be vewy carefuw," come out of his mouth when his arm slipped out from underneath him, and he did a face plant on the edge of the tub.
He started to scream, so of course I did what any loving mother would do...I said "see, that's why I told you not to do that. I told you you were going to get hurt." I swear, I said that only after I confirmed there was no blood. When he wouldn't stop screaming, I investigated further. I gasped and said a very bad word when I saw it...
...A CHIPPED TOOTH!
It wasn't bad enough to need emergency care. It wasn't chipped high enough to bleed, and Camden was up to his old tricks within the hour. He has his first dentist appt. tomorrow just to make sure there was no root damage, and so they can put a little piece of putty on it to keep it from scraping his lip. TG for my new job and dental insurance!
It's funny. Everyone always comments that Camden looks just like Rob, and that is truer than ever. Now they have matching chipped teeth. Rob got his in a bunk bed related incident when he was nine, and it's been that way ever since. Camden's will be gone by the time he's six, but now that I think about it, we do have bunk beds for the boys. The beds are separate right now, and I think we'll keep it that way until they're old enough to know better (what age is that, 19? 20?)
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