Bye-Bye Snugs

This is our last night at the Anonyparents' house, as tomorrow, we'll move the whole show to BabyBro's place for the twins' second birthday party. After the party, my folks will head home, and we'll stay there in Houston through the weekend, and fly home on Sunday.

We've got plans for dinner with a friend of mine from high school and her daughters tomorrow evening, and some kind of kid fun with BabyBro and the gang on Sunday.

In the meantime, though, Peeper got some last minute snuggles with Grandma and Grandpa this evening, before she has to share them with her cousins.

Wets Do Waundwy!

Big-Girl Piggies

When I went to get a hairband for Peeper this morning, I found two that matched her outfit, and thought "What the heck, I think I remember how to do this!"

Of course, they were easier for her to reach and yank out a million times in Target, but they were awful darn cute.

Gumbo Girl

We spent the evening at AuntieKay's house, where we ate gumbo and Peeper played with kitty toys. She enjoyed both.

Guerrilla Goodness

First, go check out Kindness Girl and her acts of Guerrilla Goodness.

Feeling inadequate yet?

On the Guerrilla Goodness site, there's a feature where you can enter your cell number to get a "Kindness Mission" via text message. I just signed up on Sunday, so I don't know if it's a one-time deal, or periodic missions.

At any rate, yesterday morning, I received the following text:

Leave 10 encouraging messages on post-its in public places. Include the word HOPE in 5 of them, the rest are freebies. Have fun!!!

At first I thought, "Eh, I'm too busy today," and then I realized, what better time/place to find a hidden little pick-me-up than when you're rushing through an airport?

So, I asked Shrike if we had any Post-Its, and of course she asked me why. "I don't want to tell you; you're going to think I'm a big dork." "Well, I already know you're a big dork. Why do you need the Post-Its?"

I told her, and she found me a free sample pack with (I believe) fifteen of them, and I scribble some little notes, like "Hope you have a great flight!" and "Have a great trip!" and tucked them into my pocket.

When Peeper and I got through security and were killing time before our flight, I stashed them in about three different gift shops, and on several waiting-for-my-plane chairs.

I did a couple of those ". . . sweet day" ones, both on candy, of course.

There was also "It's a great day for exploring!" which I put on a guidebook of Greece (I think) and "This is a great book. I hope you enjoy it!" inside a copy of The Help. (I knew I'd find it there!)

There were some "Have fun!" notes on games, too, but mostly they were of the "have a great trip!" variety, in assorted random places.

I threw in one additional note - a fullpage "Thank you for helping to keep us safe. Have a great day!" inside my suitcase for the TSA inspectors who always go through it, because I check my laptop and assorting cords and cables.

When I opened it at Anonymama's house, I found the note in exactly the same spot where I'd left it, but there was a "We inspected your bag" notice right beside it, so I assume someone found it.

It did occur to me, it being an airport, sneakily leaving things laying around might be seen as suspicious, but I managed to unload fifteen bits of anonymous cheer without being spotted, so it's all good.

Guerrilla good!

Thirty-Five Months

Dear Peeper:
You are thirty-five months old today. (Well, technically, in a couple of days; I'm writing this a bit early and scheduling it since we'll be in Texas on your month-birthday.) That means, of course, that you will be three years old in a month. In a few days, I can say that you'll be three "at the end of this month."

I guess I'm already sort of starting to think of you as "three" more and more often, but then I think "That's crazy. 'Three' is what the big kids are," and then I realize what a "big kid" you are getting to be.

The main thing worth discussing from the past month is the fact that we've all been sick for most of it. You started feeling yucky the first week of September and we're not all better yet. You've been feeling pretty good for a week or more, but had a couple of rough days at the beginning of the week, and we all have a few more days of antibiotics to go.

Because of that, we've not made much progress on our Letter of the Week, only managing to cover V and W, and really kind of half-assing those. Of course, those are kind of tough ones, since there aren't a ton of words that start with them, and we've once again gotten ahead of the Tot School Printables, so had to sort of wing it for W.

Even so, and even with our upcoming trip, I think we should be able to finish up the alphabet before your birthday, and then we'll concentrate on the holidays and some appropriately-themed activities and jump back into the more academic stuff (possibly at a slightly more structured level) after the first of the year.

I'm not sure exactly what we'll work on then, but it will certainly be beyond your basic color / shape / letter recognition stuff, because you've got that down.

Lately, you've been very into noticing and pointing out when things are the same color, and sometimes when something is the color of something that's not even there at the time.

For example, the other day we were in the car and you were wearing your reindeer nose (what?) and your Elmo sweatshirt, and you told me that "My waindeah nose is da same cowuh as my Ehmo sweatshuht. An itsa same cowuh as Mommy's cah, and da same cowuh as Mommy's twuck. It not da same cowuh as you cah. You cah is yewwoh."

You especially like to point out cars that look like Mommy's. Pretty much every red car we see, actually.

You'll also say things like "Dat's bwoo, wike Cookie Monstuh," or "Yewwow wike Big Buhd."

And you're evidently better at remembering these things that I am.

You've been on two different antibiotics lately. The first one was pink and bubblegum flavored, and you were not a fan. Everytime I gave it to you, you told me "Don' wan' it," or "Don' wike it," but you took it with no further complaint, for which I am very grateful.

Then we switched to a different medicine, which is strawberry flavored, and you really like it. You've even asked for more!

Yesterday, I told you "It's time for your pink medicine, I'm going to go get it," and you said "No! Gween medsin!" I said, "No, baby, we don't have any green medicine, just your pink medicine." You kept insisting that you wanted "gween medsin" and not pink medicine, and I kept telling you that there was no such thing.

I took you into the kitchen, and put you up on the counter, and picked up the bottle.

The green-tinted bottle, containing white-colored medicine.

Oh. Okay, honey. Here's your green medicine.

And you just crack me up with the things that you say. I really wish I could remember them all.

A couple of days ago, you were coloring with sidewalk chalk and I noticed that you were digging your fingernail into the side of it, so I told you "Please don't scratch the chalk like that," and you said, "Oh, okay, I won't. I just cowuh wif it."

That little "Oh" is just adorable, and it pops up in the funniest places.

When I walk into the room, you'll say "Oh, hi Mama!" or if you're looking for me, "Oh, Maaamaa! Wheh ah you?"

I love it when you talk to us like a grown up.

The other day, I came in to the living room where you and Mommy were playing and you looked up and said, "Hey, Mama. What's up?"

Just today (um, I mean a couple of days ago), you asked me "Hey Mama, you seen Mommy?"

Of course, you also talk to the critters and your toys just like this, too, "Whassa mattah, Galoot?" and "What kind of fwoot (piece of your fruit puzzle) you wan' BoyCat? What's you favwit fwoot?"

One of your latest adorable things is when you're playing hide-and-seek with Mommy. You'll shut her in the bathroom that's off the bedroom, and come to me and say, "Mama! Come in the bedwoom and fine you wife!"

In other words, pretty much everything you say is either brilliant, hilarious, or both.

As are you, our biggy-big-girl.

Happy almost-threeness!

I love you!


Love,
Mama

Window Shopping . . .

. . . at the airport gift shop.

We made it to Texas safe and sound, and Peeper was, as always, the perfect traveling companion.

I think she had two, maybe three, whiney times, involving not wanting to stay in her CARES harness the whole time (the seatbelt light stayed lit, but it really wasn't bouncy, so after our trip to the potty for a diaper change, I let her stay out of it, and nobody yelled at us), and wanting her crayons to stay on the tray table, but each time she was distracted and appeased by a new snack or a new set of "cards" (I went through my stash of printable unit studies and did a few new sets of matching cards) and cheered right up.

For the first time, she was on her own two feet for most of the trip. I'm no longer allowed to wear her through security, so there's no sense in getting her loaded up, then down and back up, so I started with her on the leash, and then loaded her up for the walk to our gate.

After we sat around a while and ate some of our snacks, we took a walk down to the potty and when we got back, the plane was boarding, so she did all that - including getting on the plane - on leash, instead of being worn, and it was really much easier, especially that part about getting into our row and seated.

When we arrived in Houston, I put her on leash to deplane, and had planned to load her up for the walk to baggage claim after a potty-stop, but we'd arrived early and Frappa was running late, so we were in no hurry, and we were at the same terminal as the baggage (sometimes we fly into a different terminal and it's a much farther walk), so she just walked with me, and she did great.

A brief wait for Frappa, then a stop for Italian food, a nap for Peeper (ugh) in the car and we're here. Of course, she was up til about 2 am (faking the timestamp, again) but now she's snoozing away, and we have no plans tomorrow until lunch time, so that's all cool.

Oh, we did one other thing while we were at the airport - read on . . . .

Panda Pics - 35 Months

Here she is, a bit early, since we'll be in Texas on the 27th.

Bath Time

It's a Hat If I Say It's a Hat

Rough Afternoon

Peeper had a rather short night last night, up latish and then up earlyish for haircuts, and it caught up with her shortly before Shrike left for work.

Suddenly she was a little crankapotamus, but when I convinced her to settled down and have some goody, she conked right out, so we figured she was just tired.

She woke up just as grumpy as she'd gone to sleep, though, and for a little while there, we were worried that she might be feeling yucky again (I gave her some Tylenol just in case.).

Shrike left for work while she was asleep, and when she woke up and found out that she'd not been able to say goodbye, she was pretty upset. I asked her if she'd like to me to text Mommy and ask her to call when she got to work, and she did.

Then we went to play, and she asked for paper. I gave her some drawing paper, but ooooh noooo, "Not dat kin'a paper. Uh-er kin'!"

I finally figure out that what she wanted was the wads of tissue paper that had come in her new shoes, which she'd unwadded and torn up and played with for a couple of days - and which were nowhere to be found, because (I assumed, and later confirmed) Mommy threw them out because she (not surprisingly) thought they were trash. (And, of course, she'd just taken the trash out, so they were sealed in a bag out in the big can. Not particularly retrievable.)

Oh dear. "I weeaawwwy wan' it! I wan' it back! Paaaapeeeer!"

She was not a happy little girl at all.

We talked to Mommy and she apologized, and we bemoaned the fact that she must be getting sick, because this is just not normal behavior for her.

Mommy suggested the very same two pieces of colored tissue paper that I'd offered her, and this time, they were acceptable.

Then she noticed (with a bit of help) that they were purple - just like her witch hat - and yellow - just like her bee hat - and she thought that was very cool, so she ran off to play with them.

When I suggested that we make a "pizza" with one (patted it flat on her desk, and put bears on it as toppings), she totally got into that, and before I knew it, she was back to her old self.

I still don't know what was bothering her, but she seems okay now. I hope it holds.

Dental Details

Peeper had her semi-annual dental cleaning today, and she did great, as usual.

Her teeth, not so much, though. They found three issues with them - two of which we knew about, and one surprise.

First, of course, was that same damn filling that we can't seem to keep in that front tooth. Remember when we took her in a few weeks ago, to have it repaired because it was chipping off for the second time?

(After rescheduling the appointment that we missed because of traffic, when she was crying "Deeeennnntiiiist!" from the backseat because she couldn't go that day.)

Well, that was on a Tuesday, and on Friday I noticed that the whole filling was gone.

At that appointment, we'd discussed it with Dr. C and were in agreement that if it didn't hold that time, the best thing would be to just cap it, so that we're not replacing / repairing the filling every couple of months for the next three years. We also were in agreement that we should do that under general anesthesia, so as to not jeopardize the wonderful relationship that she currently has with her dentist and dentistry in general.

I didn't want to wait until a month for the cleaning appointment and then another few weeks to actually get in to the OR, so I called the next week to try to schedule it, and after the insurance person talked with the dentist, they told me that they were afraid that our insurance wouldn't cover the ansethesia and OR, because it wasn't really medically necessary, since there was no actual decay going on. (Just a big whole right in the front of her mouth, where the cavity had been drilled out. Which food gets caught in, and now it's a brown spot, so maybe there is new decay happening because it's been exposed for a month.)

Since I had to sort of threaten the insurance company to get the OR paid for last time ("So what you're saying is that because the employer is in multiple states, you don't have to follow the state law that says that any policy served in this state must cover general anesthesia for dental work on a child under seven? I just want to make sure I have all my facts straight when I discuss it with my attorney." They called back fifteen minutes later to say that it would be covered.) I was pretty sure they were right about that, so we decided to just wait and discuss it with Dr. C. today.

Oh wait, but it wasn't Dr. C. I didn't even think to check on that when I called them at 8 am Monday (after very little sleep) to reschedule. Turns out Dr C was in the OR today.

I was a little annoyed with the hygenist for not giving us a heads-up about that. I can't imagine that she hadn't heard me tell Peeper - like twenty times - that "Dr. C will be here in a few minutes" and "In just a minute Dr. C will come look at your teeth," and I told her how Peeper adores Dr. C and pretends to be her when she dresses up as a doctor.

It wasn't until some very-not-Dr-C-guy was sitting down in the chair and saying hello that she told us that Dr. C wasn't there. Thanks for that.

Otherwise, she was great with Peeper, though - showing her all the instruments before she got them anywhere near her mouth, "tickling" her hand first with the "tickly toothbrush," even squirting water into her own hand and sucking it up with "Mr. Thirsty," so I can't be too annoyed, but seriously? Did you not think we might ought to warn the kid that her dental hero wasn't going to be there?

Anyway, then I was a little annoyed that the dentist who did see her didn't introduce himself, he just plopped down and started talking. We were in major damage control mode at that point, hoping to stave off a freak out about the missing Dr. C (she was fine) and trying to make him look like the coolest thing since sliced bread - "Look! This is Dr. C's friend. He's going to look at your teeth today! He has whiskers! What do you think his name is? Do you want to ask him his name?" - because, really, Dentist Dude, are you going to at least tell us your name?

At that point, she was asking to nurse, and I was trying to put her off because they'd said nothing to eat or drink for thirty minutes after applying the flouride, but I knew it wasn't going to go well if I didn't let her. So, I asked how badly that would mess up the flouride (she was happy to just reapply it) and could we please take a quick break before the actual exam.

He said that was no problem, and scurried off.

As I was giving Peeper her "goody to ten" (which took all of about thirty seconds) I told Shrike, "You know, Dr. C doesn't run away!"

Anyhoo - Dr. R confirmed that the filling was gone, and looked at the other tooth that I've been suspicious about for a few days (one of her first molars, with a little brown spot on it) and said that it's actually a chip, that may or may not have started with a cavity, but there doesn't seem to be a hole that goes any deeper, because it wasn't "sticky" meaning that his metal hook thingy didn't get stuck in it.

There's also a tooth in the very back that has cavities on two surfaces, or one cavity that spans two different surfaces or something like that. He "showed" it to us, but since I wasn't wearing my reading glasses, all I could make out was what he was doing with the hook thingy.

So, none of that is great, but the up-side is that the cavity/ies in the back buy us a ticket to the OR, where we'll also be able to fix up that front tooth - permanently, I hope.

Currently, the treatment plan calls for filling the back tooth, filling (again) the front tooth and assessing the chipped one to see if it needs a filling, as well as x-rays to make sure there's nothing else going on in there that needs to be dealt with.

I want to talk to Dr. C before then, though, and request that - if it's all the same to the insurance company - we just go ahead and cap that front tooth. Its three neighbors are capped already, and we're never going to be able to keep a filling in that tiny hole on that flat surface.

We're scheduled to do all that on October 12, at around noon.

The scheduler lady was concerned about it being that late in the day, "since she can't eat after midnight," but actually she can nurse until 4 hours before the procedure, and when you add up our ninety minute drive and the arrive-two-hours early thing, that just about fills up that time, and we'll probably be waking her before she wants to, in which case, she's not likely to want to eat anything solid for breakfast anyway.

As we were discussing this at noonish today, I realized that she'd not had anything but breastmilk this morning and was fine. Of course, she was nursing quite enthusiastically at the time, so she probably was hungry by then. But on procedure day, she'll be nice and stoned on Versed by that point anyway.

As to the clear liquids portion of the program, it's likely (oh, I hope) that she'll be asleep by midnight anyway, but I am going to argue with everyone I can about the midnight thing, until I get a different answer.

Here's my theory: If she were having this done at seven in the morning, she would be allowed to eat until midnight. (I asked both the dentist's scheduler and the woman who called me later from the hospital to adjust the appointment time, and they confirmed that.)

So, if seven hours of clear liquids is enough for the first patient of the day, why would the fourth or fifth patient have to go twelve hours?

Scheduler lady did tell me that for procedures scheduled after 3:30 pm they allow the patient to eat that morning, but it makes no sense to me at all that everyone until then gets the same cut-off time.

Why don't they just say they have to be on clear liquids for a certain number of hours before?

The "midnight" thing is arbitrary and stupid. And universal. WTF?

So, when I talk to Dr. C about the filling vs capping thing, I will ask her. And when a nurse calls me to confirm everything a few days before the procedure, I will ask her, and when she tells me midnight, I will tell her that I want to talk to the anesthesiologist.

If I were trying to convince them to let her eat until four hours before, or nurse right up until time, or something like that, I would worry that I was risking her safety during the anesthesia for the sake of her comfort that morning but, again, if the kid getting his teeth fixed at seven o'clock gets to eat seven hours before he gets knocked out, why can't she?

But enough about that.

When the filling first fell out, I started preparing Peeper to "go to the hospital to get your tooth fixed up" (and then I had to unprepare her) so it was fairly easy to jump back into it.

I've explained it all to her a few times already, and shown her the photos of herself all dressed up in her "doctor clothes" (hospital gown / scrubs - close enough) from last time, and we'll go over it many more times in the next couple of weeks, and I think she'll do okay.

I'm not thrilled that she needs more work, but I am glad that at least we'll get to fix up this front tooth. But is it wrong of me to be sort of looking forward to seeing what she has to say on the Versed, now that she's verbal?

Live In Concert

Pooh and Tigger rockin' out to Peeper's drum solo.

The Good Stuff?

Yesterday, when Peeper was snotting and sneezing and can't-sleeping all over again, we scheduled an appointment with the pediatrician, to find out what was up and maybe see about switching antibiotics.

Of course, last night, she (as you saw) conked out in front of Sesame Street, and then proceeded to sleep like a pebble all night long.

(She's too little to sleep like a rock.)

She woke once and cried for me (I hadn't gone to bed yet) and maybe I woke her up enough to want to nurse for a minute a time or two, but other than that, she was o.u.t.

No snotting around, no waking unable to breathe, no nothing, just peaceful (if a bit louder than usual) snores.

I, on the other hand, had also slept til midafternoon and, thus, was up, up, up. I think I finally dozed off sometime after six - and the alarm went off at 8:30.

But, we dutifully went to the appointment, and recounted our story of woe.

For three weeks, and as recently as last night, I've been asking Peeper if anything hurt, and specifically if her ears hurt, and she's always told me no. A couple of times, she's owned up to them feeling "funny like on the airplane" (my words, not hers) but never hurting, and she's not acted like they were hurting either.

(With the possible exception of yesterday morning, but she settled down when I sucked out her nose, so I figured that was it.)

I've told her that I have medicine that will help her ears if they hurt, so if they do, please tell me, so I can help. Nope, don't hurt a bit, Mama, it's all good.

So, this morning, the doctor looks at her and asks, "Does anything hurt you, honey?" and damn if she doesn't point at her right ear.

Doc takes a peek inside and declares it infected.

WTF, kid?

I told the pediatrician all about how I'd told the Doc in a Box that Peeper and I can't take penicillin, but we've both had good results from Omnicef - her for an ear infection, me for a couple of different sinus infections - but he said that he doesn't like prescribing it, because it has "some weird side effects" (which obviously haven't affected us) and "this is stronger anyway" and gave me and Shrike Keflex and Peeper (I think) Cipro.

She didn't really say anything one way or another to that, but I could tell she didn't buy his "side effects" thing, as she was typing in her computer and magically sending the prescription for Omnicef directly to the pharmacy.

(Man, I love dealing with the various bits and pieces of one big medical system.)

We thanked her, and went right over to pick it up. (Only slightly less convenient now that the pediatrician's office has moved out of the building where the pharmacy is, because they'd outgrown their old suite. The nice place is pretty sweet itself, though.)

Of course, I was very "I told you so!" about the Omnicef, and then got jealous that I wanted some, too, so as soon as we got home, I called the grown-up doctor's office to see about maybe getting in tomorrow. I figured I'd have to call back first thing in the morning, for one of their "you're sick enough to be willing to wake up early and call the doctor" appointments, but as it turns out, they said, "Can you come right over?"

So, back I went, to the building right next door to Peeper's doctor, where the whole scene was pretty much repeated, except my ears are no longer infected, but still very congested, and she agreed that my sinuses are probably infected, and she ordered me some grown-up Omnicef of my own through the magic box.

It was about time for Shrike to leave for work by then, so I came home and Peeper and I ran back over to the pharmacy later to pick it up, "Why yes, here we are again!"

At least I was able to report that Peeper had liked the flavor of her medicine (default strawberry) so much that she'd asked for more!

As opposed to the bubble gum other stuff, which she didn't not like at all.

Much to her credit, though - and much to my surprise - she never fought me about taking it, just said "I don' like it" and "I don' want it" very matter-of-factly  (and kind of sadly) each time I gave it to her.

I was very, very proud of her for taking it anyway, especially since I was administering it in two separate squirts, so she had to open up for more right after tasting it.

I tried to give her as many choices in the matter (other than whether or not to take it) as possible, which I thin khelped.

I was usually taking either my antibiotics or a giant Mucinex horse pill at the same time, and she was usually also taking Tylenol, so she got to choose if she would go first or Mama (she always picked Mama) and when it was the horse pills, I showed them to her, and then made a big deal out of "Okay, here goes Mama's giant pill! Whew! I got it!" and then I'd give her the option of taking her Tylenol first or her Pink Medicine, and she always went for the Tylenol, then pink medicine, then some water (oddly enough, never goody) to wash it down.

I also gave her the option of one big (4 ml) squirt or two 2 ml squirts, and she went with the two.

I think, if it were me, I'd have done one big squirt first, and then washed it out with the (evidently) yummy Tylenol, but to each her own.

For the Omnicef, it's a 6 ml dose (but only once a day - woo hoo!), so I explained that she could have three squirts the same size as she'd been getting, or two bigger squirts (hello, commutative property of multiplication!) and she opted for the three little ones.

Then asked for more.

So, although the pediatrician says that she suspects the illness is viral (but for ears they give antibiotics - especially with us flying in less than a week) and although I strongly suspect that too, I'm really hoping that it will turn out that we just needed to find the right antibiotics to magically fix us.

I'm also really hoping that if we go into this trip while already taking antibiotics, it will be enough to protect us from the airplane cooties and we can actually stay healthy for a while, rather than having to do this all over again ten days from now.

Now, we just have to get Shrike in to see her doc for some Omnicef, and maybe we can get on with our lives.

Little Photographer

Painting Her Worm

There was also something about putting a blankie on his tail and his saddle and his head, but I was asleep on the couch for that portion of the program.

(Oh, and there's not actually any paint on that brush. Turns out that she enjoys pretend painting almost as much as the real thing.)

Conked Out

So, while I was typing about her recent sleep habits, this happened.

Seriously? Again?!?

This illness has played hell with Peeper's sleep "schedule" over the past couple of weeks. First, when she was feeling really lousy, she went back to napping in the afternoon. It kept her up a bit later, but of course, she needed the sleep, and it wasn't like we were getting up and going in the mornings anyway, so we went with it.

Then, her naps moved later and a few days we had naps around five or six in the evening, and she was up til around midnight or a bit later.

And then, yikes. For four freaking nights in a row, she "napped" at, let's see, 9:30 - 9:45, 8 - 10, 8 - 11 and 10 - midnight. Needless to say, she was then up forever. Friday, we went back to sleep at six o'clock Saturday morning.

By that point, she was feeling pretty good, just a lingering cough, and Shrike and I were doing fairly well, just still coughing and ears still congested, so we figured we were going to have to just get her up in the mornings, and keep her up in the evenings, and get it straightened out over the next few days.

Then, Saturday, Peeper and I both fell asleep at 9:30 pm and she slept. All. Night.

Do I hear angels singing?

Wait, no, that's not angels, it's not, it's . . . snot.

What? No! I must be imagining that.

Then the sneezing. And the nose running. And the sounds of the congested nose.

Are you fucking kidding me?

Yesterday, she and I napped a little while in the afternoon, then I dozed on the couch a couple of times, and then fell asleep on the couch again around 8:30. She came and asked for goody, and crawled up beside me, and the next thing I knew, Shrike was tapping me and pointing out that she was asleep. At 9 pm.

So, of to bed with Peeper and Shrike, and I got  up, and she slept for about thirty minutes.

I gave up and got up with her around ten, and she played happily (stopping often for nose wipes) until she decided to go to bed around 1:30.a.m. That didn't last long, so Shrike got up with her and I slept untl about 3:45. I got up and sent Shrike to bed, and she nursed down in my lap not long after.

We all woke around 8 am, and she was screeeaaaaming, asking to nurse, taking one suck and pushing me away, over and over. She claimed her ears didn't hurt (still does) but she wasn't very rational at the time. I cleaned her nose and she finally settled down.

That's when we called and rescheduled her already rescheduled dentist appointment.

We all went back to sleep until about 2 pm, and felt much better when we got up.

She's not acting like she feels all that bad, but she sounds awful, and I'm kind of dreading trying to sleep.

Mostly, I'm dreading the idea of starting over with this illness, when we've just almost gotten well.

Oh, and did I mention that Peeper and I are supposed to fly to Texas in a week.

We're taking her to the doctor tomorrow, maybe she'll have some answers or some magic medicine. I suspect she'll say it's viral and we wasted our money on the trip to urgent care and antibiotics, but maybe she'll just say they were the wrong antibiotics. A mama can hope, right?

In the meantime, today's mail brought a Sonic coupon for a 99-cent sundae, so we had some medicinal ice cream.

Tea Party (The Good Kind)

Autism Awareness Fair

Peeper and I went to the local Autism Awareness Fair this afternoon. Fortunately for the event, it's gotten big enough that it needed a new location, but unfortunately for us, that location is no longer practically in our backyard.

But that's okay, we made it over in time for Peeper to do pretty much everything that interested her.

There was supposed to be a pony ride, the but pony lady was sick, so she rode a pretend pony instead. And ate cookies. Free cookies.

Here is my facebook status from this afternoon:

I swear, sometimes I look at this kid, and she's just so damn cute it hurts my eyeballs.

And here is why:

Take My Pichur, Mama!

A Day, A Night, Monkey Pants

It's beginning to look as though the plague may be lifting here, or at least may soon be.

Peeper's been pretty perky for a couple of days, and I no longer feel fevery and achy and sick, but am still God-awful congested, which includes not being able to hear a damn thing.

Shrike is coughing like a tubercular seal, and can't hear out of one ear either (makes conversation just lovely, especially when poor Peeper with her almost-three-year-old-diction is talking), but this evening she said that she's maybe starting to feel like she might want to live, so that's a big step in the right direction.

Our sleep pattern has been completely shot to hell, and the past couple of nights I've thought Peeper was down early but it turned out to be a nap, and then she was up for-fucking-ever.

Tonight, around 7 or so, she was sleepy and cranking and whiney and maybe she's not really feeling quite as well as she says yet, so in an attempt to distract and happy her up, I asked if she wanted to make cookies.

Now, what I had in mind was whipping up a batch or World's Easiest Peanutbutter Cookies, but no, she wanted sugar cookies.

And, in all fairness, those are her favorite (When offered a variety of cookies to choose from, she always goes with sugar - over chocolate chip even. Little freak.) and we haven't made any in a while, so sure, what the hell.

Then I notice that Shrike is giving me the look and mouthing that "We don't have any sugar." Whoops.

But we're committed now, so she offered to run to the store for sugar. In a downpour and lightning storm.

(While she was at the store, her dad called about some stuff that we need to get from her house. He offered to drop it off tomorrow because "You have no business being out in this weather." Ahem. She did not tell him where she was.)

Oh, and we don't have enough butter either. Nor eggs. And we'll be cutting it close on flour. And what the hell, how about some confectioner's sugar so I can make icing, too. And some of those mints that I got the other day and then ate most of them and now Peeper keeps saying "I really want some mints" but we don't have any because did I mention that I ate most of them?

Yeah, that should do it.

As I was rattling off the list to her, Peeper was saying "And eggs, and shuguw and 'nudduh kinda shuguw, and . . . "

So, while Shrike ran to the store, Peeper and I got out the bowls and the mixer and the measuring devices and the two ingredients that Shrike wasn't out buying.

When she got home, I said, "Ok, Peeper, let's cream together the sugar and butter."

"Oh shit. I'll be right back," and back out she went for butter.

We went ahead and made the icing, and by the time she got back we were ready to do the cookie dough.

While we were making it, I found a double-yolk egg; that's got to mean something good, right?

Peeper got bored with it just before I was finished and wandered off to play. I put the dough in the fridge to get cold, and played for a while, and then she conked out. At about 7:45. After a quick consultation with Shrike we decided to go ahead and let her sleep, and Shrike joined her. (See previous post.)

I got the better part of an hour of web development work done, and blogged and scouted information on pricing for a yard sale (because we are insane and are planning a yard sale for late October) and then she woke up, at 10 pm.

Around midnight, she remembered about the cookies - actually, she asked to eat one, and was quite confused as to why they didn't exist yet - so we rolled out the dough, and cut them out, and baked them and iced them and sprinkled them and then, finally, ate some.

Okay, that's kind of a lie. Of course, we ate some while rolling, cutting, icing and sprinkling. But then we ate more when they were all done.

(And froze half the dough and icing, so the next time we want sugar cookies, nobody will have to go to the fucking grocery store in a lightning storm.)

Shrike went on to bed (couch) and Peeper and I played, and watched videos, and watched videos and played and played and watched - oh my God!

What the fuck do you mean the "down for site maintenance, will be back at 6 am?!"

Okay, so maybe the vast majority of the Sesame Street website's users are asleep from 2 - 6 am, but not my kid. Not tonight. Are you fucking kidding me!?!

I was able to find some Sesame Street videos on YouTube and appease her with those, but it was a struggle.

Then I noticed that her diaper had reached it's limit, so I took her into her room for a change. That went something like this:

Peeper: No! Keep dese pants!

Whozat: No, honey, these pants have pee-pee on them, you can't wear them.

Peeper: But why?

Whozat: Because you'll get pee-pee on Mama. You can wear (looking around) Oh, you can wear your monkey pants!

Peeper: Monkey pants! Take dis (shirt) off!

Whozat: Oh, you want your monkey shirt, too? Okay, let's just get your diaper changed. Okay here's your monkey. . . Oh, that's the shirt. Let me find the pants. . . hmmm . . . shit . . . Honey, I can't find your . . .

Peeper: Monkey pants!

Whozat: I don't see . . .

Peeper: MONKEY PANTS!!

Whozat: But they aren't here . . .

Peeper: MOOONKEEEEY PAAAANTS!!!

I checked both baskets of clean clothes, the hamper, the dryer (which was damp anyway - restarted it) and all her drawers. No monkey pants.

I offered every other pair of jammy pants she has, nope.

Finally, I started nursing her (in just a diaper) and shush shush shushing (while she cried for her MOOONKEEEEY PAAAANTS!!!) and after a while she asked for more videos. After a couple of those, and some more nursing and shushing, she finally fell asleep.

As I moved her to the bed, I thought, you know, this is what my life has become. Seventeen-and-then-some years of school, and eighteen years working like a real grown-up, and a few years of hobnobbing with political muckity-mucks, and the (former) governor (used to) know my name, and now it's all about soothing a three-foot-tall crazy person through four am meltdowns over fucking monkey pants.

And, you know, I wouldn't have it any other way.

Then I went into the sunroom to let a dog out, and what do I see lying in a tiny little heap in the floor?

Monkey pants.

So, of course . . .

Yeah, I'm a fucking ninja mama.

8 PM and Fingers Crossed

Feeling Better

I'm glad somebody is.

Right now, she's playing with some pennies and just told me, "I'm buyin' somefin."

"What are you buying, baby?"

"Some medsin for you."

Awwwww.

Letter of the Week Sneak Peek: V is for Volcano

Make a video - it's fun, easy and free!
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Letter of the Week: U

~ Peeper is 33.75 months old ~

A Note To My Regular Readers: I may be repeating some photos or stories that I've already published, but I want to put all our learning activities in the one post that's part of the Tot School link-up.

Tot Schoolers: Welcome! If you enjoy this post, please feel free to stay for a while, and have a look around. I'll give you a fair warning that much of my blog is PG-13, but my Tot School link-up posts will always be G-Rated.

---

We actually did Uu a few weeks ago, but I just realized that I never posted about it. After Uu, we took a little break, and have just started on Vv (while we've been sick), so we'll wrap it up this week (hopefully, we'll be feeling better soon!) and I'll post about it next week.

So, what did we do for Uu? Well, not a whole heck of a lot, actually.

Our letter crafts were U is for Uncle Sam and u is for umbrella.

Peeper is quite the fan of old Uncle Sam. It all started back in June, when we bought her a big Uncle Sam hat from the Target dollar aisle. We were called it her "Uncle Sam hat" and I don't remember if she asked what that meant, or we just took it up ourselves to explain, but we googled some pictures of him, and she fell in love.

As luck would have it, I awas able to score her an Uncle Sam mask at a MOMS Club event, and I colored it, per her instructions.

Here's our sad little collection of U items for our box: I didn't even manage to locate the U magnet or u bath foamy, but I did find the Uu book and U is for urchin animal car, a box lid with an umbrella on it, a pair of underwear (had to teach her that word - everybody in our house just wears panties!) and good old Uncle Sam.

A random academicish moment of her own: "Wook, Mama! I make yewwow wuhd wif bwoo wuhds!"

During one of our lazy weeks between U and V, I found these cool US Presidents cards at Target, on the dollar aisle. (I'd already gotten her a Presidents book there, but I like the cards better.)

She got interested in presidents after looking at coins, and I thought I'd show her more than those four guys.

She can recognize and name a few of them, sometimes, but mostly she looks at them and asks "Mama like dis guy?"

She can also sing you a song about "Tall Tom Jefferson." We'll have to find some songs about some of the other guys.