California Boy

Carnegie Science Center Story #2
Nathan was fascinated by the trains, but he smiled the broadest at natural disaster.
There is, at the Science Center, an earthquake simulator as part of the "Natural Forces" exhibit. It's a little cafe booth that you sit down in and choose your own earthquake (San Francisco, Chile, Australia). It then shakes and rumbles and rocks. The lighting fixture rocks back and forth, but nothing falls on you. Dave and I got in with Nathan and fired up a 7.8 quake. Though choruses of "Never, never, never shake your baby" were running through my mind, Nathan was smiling ear to ear and enjoying the ride.
I guess even though he was conceived and born in the Keystone State, there is Californian in him, nonetheless.

It's in the genes, I guess

Back in 2005, the day I graduated from medical school, my entourage and I took a trip to the Carnegie Science Center. It was a fun day of wind tunnels, simulated earthquakes, and meteor rubbing. Noah was the only kid in the group, but we all frolicked. The most fun, however, was definitely had by my dad in the miniature train exhibit. It's a pretty cool exhibit, running 5 trains and a tram car with scale replicas of many famous and historical sights from Western PA. The lighting changes over the course of an hour or so to go from sunrise to sunset to sunrise again.
Some months later, when my dad visited again, one of the first things he asked for was to visit the trains again. We weren't able to because it was closed for renovation and I am sure that was the low point of his trip.
Today we took Nathan to the Science Center and learned that besides hand shape and broad shoulders he has something else in common with his Buff Grandpa. He LOVED the trains. From the moment we walked into the room, he was mesmerized. He tracked every train as it came and went with an enthusiastic flapping of legs and arms. It was genuine fun to watch him study the little lit up buildings and the glowing trains. Though this time I was the only one making "choo choo" noises, he kept up a constant babble of "bwah, bwah, bwah". He looked from track to mommy, to daddy with an incredulous, "are you seeing this?" look on his face.

My dad is coming to visit in a few weeks and I look forward to watching them enjoy the trains together.

Fathers, Part II: The Wonderful

Last year I said I was blessed to know a wonderful father. Mine. Fun. Always present. My biggest fan. Enthusiastic. Always good to me. I have been lucky to have him around helping me figure out how to be who I want to be. I'm glad he gets to be around to know Nathan and Nathan gets to know him. The distance between us makes me sad, but hopefully it is a temporary one. In the meantime, we'll spend a lot of time at airports. Just like this. This year I know another wonderful father. Dave. I have explained before how I feel like he shoulders more than his share of the parenting load. He makes our son laugh like no one else can. I am lucky to share parenthood with someone who can make up a song about poopy diapers. I knew he would be a great father. I am glad to say I am right. Nathan adores him, and as you can see, the feeling is mutual.

Fathers, Part I: The Bad

I have mentioned before that we like to watch a few TV shows around here. One of them is "Family Guy". This is the perfect storm of comedy. A family whose characters never age. An intelligent talking dog who is understood by one and all. A "Pinky and the Brain"-esque baby with a homicidal streak whom no one understands except the dog. Spoofs, musical numbers, complete non sequiturs, and just enough of a plot to hold it all together. Sure, I've never understood the chicken fights, but the clip with the head of the maid's union is the funniest 10 seconds of TV ever.

I do have a problem with the show, however, and that is Peter. If he is an example of American fathers we should not be surprised that so many families are breaking down. He is an undereducated bumbling oaf who is always doing something he shouldn't. His children don't respect him and even his dog talks disparagingly to and about him. His interactions with his kids walk a line between oblivious disconnection and slightly taunting mockery. He often makes sexist comments but nevertheless, his affection for his wife is actually as believable as cartoon love can be, and he does have the good sense to recognize that she's the best thing he's got. That said, he is in a constant state of trying to trick her or hide something from her.

Now, here's the thing. Peter is funny exactly because he is stupid, racist, and misogynistic, but his comments, quoted to another in the context of a real life relationship, would be belittling and unkind. I don't pretend to think that anyone looks at the Griffins and thinks "That's the role model for my family!" but I do think that people quote him because they think he's funny. I also think that argument made against children watching violent programming holds true here. If we can become immune to violence, then why not disrespect and ridicule? Do we really want to fill our heads with people acting in a way we would not want ourselves or our loved ones to act? Even if we are mature enough to know it's just TV, how much does it affect our subconscious?

I don't know the full answers to all these questions but it is food for thought. I know that I think the show is funny. I know that I'm going to keep watching. I know that I don't want Nathan to watch. Lastly, I know that I am glad that neither my Dad nor Nathan's act like the elder Griffin.

Roses & Thorns

Too busy creating memories to do this last week, so here's a sampling from the last few weeks:

Roses:
1. Nathan successfully cured of sinus infection
2. Nathan put himself on an every 4 hour eating schedule (HUGE improvement from every 2-3 over night)
3. Fellowship, and the time of finally doing what I want to do, is drawing nearer. Only 4 shifts left at my current job.
4. Work going pretty well for Dave.
5. My car has a pretty new paint job.
6. Survived an epic thunderstorm/tornado warning with no damage save a little water in the basement
7. Good friend Chuck came to visit and proved to be endlessly entertaining to our boy.
8. Replaced old & busted rusted grill with new hotness grill
9. Our wonderful boy wakes up with a smile on his face and hoots softly until someone comes to play with him
10. First baby cereal experience went VERY well - and we had TWO photographers covering the event

Thorns:
1. Two days after antibiotic completion, Nathan developed new day care cold
2. Daddy and Mommy seem to be fighting this one off as well.
3. I'm having quite a few sleepless nights at work leaving me sleep deprived even though Nate's schedule is getting friendlier.
4. Fellowship, and the time of the 80 hour work week, is drawing nearer
5. Nathan is spending more time at daycare

As usual, our blessings outweigh the difficulties. We have jobs, a home, enough to eat, a healthy baby, and wonderful family and friends. Our thorns are small.

Excrement and Emesis

Warning! Potty humor and bodily functions abound.

On our last day in Hilton Head, I finally admitted that Nathan was sick. When we left home he was "recovering" from his last bout of day care gripe. He was in good spirits and the fever was gone but he was still plagued with festive colored snot, especially in the morning. A week later, that part still hadn't gotten better. As a pediatrician, I staunchly held out until that 10-12 day mark that indicates that no, your child is probably not going to get better without pharmacologic intervention. As a mommy, I watched my sweet boy get a little crankier, a little more easily disturbed with each passing day. His eyes got puffy and his nose got even grosser. So, I finally called his doctor and did what I really, really did not want to do. I procured some amoxicillin.

He hates the stuff. With the ear infection it was a twice daily mewling, spitting, pink-bubblegum-smearing battle to get about half a dose into him with equal amount of time spent cleaning it off everywhere else afterwards. I had never before conceived of a teaspoon as an impossibly large quantity of liquid but it is a nearly insurmountable obstacle. Needless to say, I breathed a sigh of relief when his ear recheck was normal and we stopped the meds about 3 days early. This time around I waited until there was a flashing neon "SICK" sign over his head before I gave in and admitted he may need an antibiotic.

Anyway, there we were, on vacation, with a syringe full of sticky amox and a boy who has a very sensitive gag reflex. Here's the bullet point version of events.

- Nathan took about 3/4 of the dose.
- Distressed look
- Medicine returned with interest - about 4 ounces of warm, freshly consumed leche de madre.
- Mommy, who hates vomit more than any other bodily secretion, flees to jacuzzi tub, shedding warm, wet, stinky clothing
- Daddy and Nathan follow in appreciation of chance to sit in tub
- Tub filling slowly
- Mommy swishing
- Nathan poops in tub
- Tub emptied
- Tub cleaned
- Tub filling, slowly.
- Praying for sufficient hot water
- Nathan, sitting in mommy's lap in tub, poops - again
- Hysteric laughter
- Tub emptied
- Mommy showers
- Tub cleaned
- Tub filled, slowly, lukewarm.
- Finally, tub enjoyed by all.

Final score - Meds ingested: 0, Squeaky Clean Elsters: 3, Rookie Parent Mistakes: at least a dozen

Fortified by an afternoon nap, Dave and I were able to laugh at the whole comedy of errors. It wasn't until later, however, that Nate did as well . . . (click to see a laughing baby)

Unexpected

I had a few surprising mommy moments in the last 24 hours.

1) After immunizations yesterday, Nathan basically just wanted to lay on my chest and snuggle. He napped with a hand resting, for reassurance, on his food source. I rubbed his head, inhaled his sweet baby smell, and thought that it was kind of nice to have a cuddly day. These days he just wants to sit and stand and bounce. Not that I was glad he wasn't feeling well. But seriously, without trivializing the pain of parents with seriously ill children, am I the first mom whose ever looked at her snuggly slightly sick baby and thought it was kind of nice?

2) During a HUGE thunder and lightning storm last night, the one that brought tornado sightings to Pittsburgh, we lost power. No big emergency. That's happened before and we have a ton of candles and a gas stove and water heater. Never before, however, has Dave gone out driving through flooded and storm darkened streets to transport 100 ounces of frozen breast milk to a safe and still powered locale. (Thanks Dave & Emily!!)

3) Too lazy to light a candle, I changed a diaper last night in the pitch black of Nathan's room. I did it by feel, and did it quite well. At least it didn't leak.

Recovery

I've been asked to confirm the fate of my car.
It required an organ transplant (a new alternator) and goes tomorrow to have some car cancer removed (rust repair and repainting) but otherwise seems to be quite happy to keep going. I'm counting on it for another 3 years. After fellowship I can get the big bad attending car. (If we don't spend all our money on first class tickets to Australia, that is.)

My Beetle & Me

I love my car. If you know me well, you know that. It was a college graduation gift that I nearly worshipped from the start. Cute, perky, purple, a lot of get up and go. I thought it defined me pretty well.
At the start, we were a good team for the long drives between OC and Valencia. It flipped easily through its 6CD changer while we sat in traffic on the 405, memorizing lyrics to the Black Crows and Celine Dion alike. I washed it every weekend, lovingly polishing every surface. When I was spending nearly every waking moment with my first little boy, it provided a backseat safe haven and with flashing headlights, gave entertainment and smiles.
Later, it happily chugged across the country with Dave and I, listening sagely as we laughed, shared our deepest thoughts, and built the foundation for the relationship we have now. At a roadside stop in Utah, I'm sure it felt proud to watch me leap around like a mountain goat while Dave trailed nervously behind. It saw me through med school, mostly hunkered down in a freezing underground garage while I shunned it for the convenience of bus travel, but bearing no grudge, it would purr to life to carry me to the grocery store, the mall, or out with friends. It stoically sat out under sun and stars while I worked my 30 hour residency shifts, waking, rain or shine, to take me back to the cozy repose of my bed. And in the last few months it has had the opportunity to provide conveyance to a new generation. Nathan looks happily out the window as the scenery rolls by.
A few days ago, it tried to kill me. There I was, on my way home from working all night when all the dashboard indicator lights started to flash, the radio turned off, and the car simply stopped. Of course it did this at the only point along my route at which there was no shoulder to coast on to. The point just around a curve where two lanes merge and commuters go 60mph in an area meant for 35, trying to pass each other and gain that extra 10 feet before the red light just ahead.
There was a lot of squealing of brakes and tires, and honking, as if I was somehow unaware that I was sitting in traffic, terrified, with my hazards on, praying one of those aggressive yahoos didn't kill me. If only they alerted me to this fact, I would just move my car out of the way. Mmmm hmmmm. One little problem . . .
Over the 2 days it took to diagnose the problem, Dave and I discussed with mounting anxiety the likely catastrophic nature of the issue and expense to fix, and even discussed a new car. I was torn. After all, who doesn't want something new and shiny? It had tried to kill me and the sin of doing such a thing with Nate in the car would have been unforgivable. But, it would have truly been the ending of an era for me. I used to say my grandkids would use the frame as a playground after the car finally gave up, and a little bit of that early awe and love still resonates in my heart.
It's a 2-door. An impractical family car. But it's still cute and perky and fun and young and I still want those things to define me even if "me" has changed.

Southern Comfort

They do things different 'round these parts.

Even Nathan knows they're funny, He was cracking up (pun definitely intended) at a mini mart listening to Dave say pork cracklin's over and over. Funny words those, and he doesn't even know what they mean. Also desperately entertaining? Piggly Wiggly. I mean, come on. That's funny even to a grown up. Try it. Wait for a quiet moment and just say "Piggly Wiggly". It'll make you giggly.

Go ahead. Groan. I'll wait.

The one that got me, though, was an anecdote I heard over lunch at Mrs. Wilkes' Dining Room, a family style comfort food restaurant. A 5 million pound behemoth of a man was trying to convince Dave and I to give Nathan a bite of potato or a bean. Anything. Couldn't we see that the poor boy was wasting away. Shoveling in fried chicken and collard greens, he brushed off my objections that Nathan was a little young to try the mac and cheese. "My wife's daddy gave her little sister a french fry on the way home from the hospital after she was born." Pregnant pause (there go those puns again) while Dave and I stared, dripping sweet tea from gaping jaws. "Just to gnaw on, ya know."

Um, no. We didn't know.

I guess Nate was on his side though, because he managed, with Spidey-speed, to get a handful of blueberry cobbler. Sadly for him, Mommy reflexes caught up and intervened before he made it to his mouth.

Little Fish

First time in the pool and he loved it. Whole bein' wet thing. Drove him nuts.