Saturday, December 30, 2006

2006: The Year in Pictures

January: A late snowstorm made a very pregnant Dyke One stir crazy, and an anxious Dyke Two nervous about the road conditions.

Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting

February: Bigfella made his appearance 10 days late and 10 pounds, on Dyke Two's birthday.

Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting

March: Bigfella nursed like a maniac, and went for his first solo excursion with Mommy.

Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting

April: Bigfella mastered the Neglectosaucer, and briefly wore a shirt we like to think was tongue in cheek sent by his well-meaning Granny.

Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting

May: We went to a wedding and mastered sitting up.

Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting

June: We went swimming at the lake and spent too much time blogging.

Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting

July: Sitting was easier, and we refused to wear our plaid hat from aunt and uncle.

Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting

August: Bigfella stood with assistance, and Hounddog stood on guard.

Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting

September: More standing, and a nice rubdown after a bath

Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting

October: A warm day at the park, and a teething dragon for Halloween.

Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting

November: Bigfella voted at the beginning of the month, and walked at the end.

Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting

December: Ear infections, stomach bug, thrush and teething didn't stop us from celebrating Hannukah and Christmas. Party on...

Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting

Thursday, December 28, 2006

Mary Cheney

I was all set to talk about Mary Cheney and her uterus. How mixed my emotions are about her having a baby. How pissed I am at the right wing nut jobs for villifying her. How much I hope she and her partner decide to use their power and influence to help further second parent adoption in their home state.

But, I got new shoes today. I love new shoes. When I was a kid, I always wore them out of the store, putting my old smelly, worn out shoes into the shoebox. My new shoes would feel so good. I always thought I ran faster in my new shoes, and could jump higher. I would dance and do karate kicks through the store because my new shoes gave me super powers. New shoes give me a confidence nothing else gives me, except maybe new glasses. Unlike any other new apparel, shoes don't make you look fat. But, the same pair of jeans look so much better with my new shoes than they did with my dirty, sloppy old ones...

When I bought my new shoes today, the salesman didn't ask if I wanted to wear them out of the store. He just boxed them back up and gave me the box. I carried them out of the store and into both the health food store and CVS.

When Dyke Two and I got back in the car, I changed into my new shoes so I could wear them when we picked up Bigfella. I haven't taken them off yet.

Did I mention how much I love new shoes?

Tuesday, December 26, 2006

In one fell swoop...

...the whole family went down. We're still dealing with the tail end of it. And I do mean tail end.

It started with Bigfella. Bigfella and a banana. And a Roundabout carseat. The banana that Bigfella ate 40 minutes earlier made an unexpected reappearance all over him and the carseat.

It continued as he puked out every drop of breastmilk he drank for the next 36 hours.

It spread to Dyke Two, who puked for 18 hours.

I got it next, and spent 20 hours on the pot.

Once we were all back in the land of the living, we returned home from Target, and found two little puddles, one from each end of the dog.

Eating Bigfella's puke must not have agreed with her.

This morning, my nephew, visiting from up North, began to puke. By dinner time, my mom had it.

Oh, and Bigfella went in for his fourth doctor's visit since Thanksgiving. Despite 12 days of antibiotics, and a week of waiting for it to spontaneously clear up, he has an ear infection. They gave him an injection of antibiotics. We go back on Thursday for another ear check and injection.

I looked in his mouth as he screamed after the shot. I think he has thrush...

Saturday, December 16, 2006

However you spell it...

...Chanukkah, Hanukkah, Chanuka...

Have a happy one.

I love the story of Hanukkah. A small group of people, committed to their vision, their faith, overcoming the oppressive masses. Every year, we stop and think about our vision and hope for our community, and how we can take small steps to make a difference. There are so many places that the commitment of the few is needed now to overwhelm the strength of the many. I hope we all can find ways to kindle the flame of courage and righteousness in ourselves in order to work toward justice and equality in our world. Volunteering with a political advocacy group, tutoring at a local school, serving meals at a soup kitchen, spending a morning on a Habitat for Humanity building site, writing letters to your elected officials, cleaning up litter at the park near your house, posting your unwanted clothing and household items on Freecycle, whatever your heart and vision lead you to do, just get out there and do it. Our families depend on us to make the world the place we want to live.

One a side note, a word of caution to the allergy world. If you decide to make egg-free latkes, Ener-g egg replacer is not the best choice of egg like substitute. Its main ingredient, after all, is potato starch. Adding potato starch to grated potatoes makes a wallpaper pastelike substance that then turns into a gelatinous mass when placed in hot oil. Adding some baking powder to the batter makes it edible, but still not particularly enjoyable. Bigfella turned up his allergic nose to them, so the next batch will have eggs in them. He, did, however, enjoy the applesauce.

Tuesday, December 12, 2006


How do you avoid passing along your perfectionistic tendencies to your children? My brother and I are both high-acheiving perfectionists. We always have been, and sadly, I think probably always will be. I've reflected on the types of parenting my mom and dad gave us, and honestly, I don't think they were sending us messages that mistakes were bad or that love was conditional. I also don't think my brother and sister in law are sending my neice and nephew those messages.

Over Thanksgiving, my nephew--now in kindergarten--showed us his sight words. He had had the same list since the first day of school, and knew every single one of them. However, he was scared that he would make a mistake reading to the teacher, and had therefore refused to "take the test" to get new ones. My mom and I both encouraged my brother and sister in law to "make" him take the test, and watched them play with nephew and the words. Neither one of them was doing anything that made us think perfection was expected or that making a mistake or taking a risk was bad. Since we are both special education teachers, we know something about encouraging kids to try new things, modeling appropriate self-talk and reducing anxiety.

My dad and stepmother babysat for them on Friday and told me that nephew has new words, so obviously he did end up taking, and "passing" the test. They also told us that while babysitting, he was once again scared to read words he didn't know perfectly. He had 25 words, and read 19 of them perfectly, and refused to even say anything for the other 6. They also relayed the story that he had misplaced the key to his coin bank. He freaked out. Freaked. Out. As they told the story, I realized his reaction is exactly what I do whenever I misplace something, miss a deadline, forget to do something or in any other way show that I am not perfect and in control.

Sunday I left the Education School computer lab in tears. I had just finished my stats take home, and was convinced I had failed it. I told Dyke Two that I was OK with taking the class again in the spring. Yesterday, I ran into the professor who told me he had just graded my exam, and I got a 94.

Seriously, I am almost in tears thinking that there is something we are doing to pass this perfectionism on to Bigfella. I hate to think that he might ever put the type of pressure on himself that I put on myself. Even with our intentional efforts to keep my neice and nephew free of this plague, they are showing they have it.

How do we stop this before it gets worse? I have spent years in therapy, and taken 7 different medications to manage my anxiety and depression (and the perfectionism they stem from). Not only do I want better for myself, I want better for the children I love.

Saturday, December 09, 2006

Can you see where this is going?

Bigfella's been sick. Long story short: finals week. 104 temperature. Urgent care appointment with pediatrician Monday night. Double ear infection and bronchitis. Prescription Augmentin. No daycare. Extensions received in all classes. Two moms also fighting off the same crud.

So, Tuesday night, Bigfella finally went to sleep in the rocking chair and I laid him down in the crib. We went to bed, and woke up a few hours later to him crying. Bleary eyed, I staggered into his bedroom and picked him up. The arms of his pajamas were wet, but I didn't bother to turn on the light because I assumed the wet was from snot or tears as he cried.

I brought him into our room, and didn't turn on the light.

I nursed him, and didn't turn on the light.

He snuggled in and tried to sleep. I didn't turn on the light.

Dyke Two mumbled, as he burrowed next to her, "His pajamas are damp" but we didn't turn on the light.

Anyone know where this is going? Anyone? The clues are antibiotics, wet pajamas, no lights.

I woke up the next morning, and noticed that the wet spots were brownish colored. (I see the lightbulbs above your heads clicking on, dear readers).

Yep, we'd co-slept with a 9 month old who was coated with antibiotic induced diarrhea for 5 hours.