The doctor wants to see Nate, endorsing our decision to call and making me worry even more.
She also wants us to start the Prevacid again to try to make things better before we go in next week.
The Prevacid is a double edged sword. It's unquestionably the strongest medicine he has taken. Nate loves the melt-in-your-mouth strawberry wafer. Dave and I shudder at the $75 copay.
When the nurse told me it was that particular medicine we were supposed to restart, Dave and I sighed and then agreed that we couldn't put a price on a healthy boy. But wouldn't it be nice if the $15 dollar medicine made him feel just as good?
Later, we embarrassed ourselves by dancing at the pharmacy counter.
It seems the generic (lansoprazole - $15) form has just hit the market.
Later still, after letting the small burst of proton pump inhibiting goodness dissolve on his tongue, Nate danced around the kitchen pleading "more, more, me-me (medicine)" and signing more for good measure.
It seems we're all happy.
I hope Nathan's abused stomach lining is dancing a quiet dance tonight as well.
Monday, November 29, 2010
My Little Mynah Man
I've been counting while my two boys sleep. I'm up over 200 and I know I'm forgetting some. The list includes yellow and bulldozer and stinkbug and please. Also walk and ride and astronaut and biplane. Wine, milk, chocolate, and guitar. My favorite right now may be "pilgrim" (pronounced "bum")
I'm not counting numbers, letters of the alphabet, or animal sounds. Just words. Words that Nate says reliably and frequently.
And yes, I'm bragging. I'm amazed by my little boy who is expected to say 50ish words at this age but instead puts together 3-4 word sentences. If you give him an opening he'll tell you the story of the two stinkbugs who were walking on his wall but daddy took them away in a tissue. To go pee pee in the potty. Or he might tell you about airplanes and helicopters flying up, up, in the sky. He may even tell you about rolling the yellow ball to Kent in gym class right before they crawled through a blue tunnel.
Of course, chances are also good that as an uninitiated person you may not understand a lot of it. But if he told you "Nate please ice water, right now!" I think that one would come through loud and clear. If he sees someone give you something or do something for you and you don't say thank you, he'll say it over and over until you acknowledge him and thank the individual in question.
He uses a new word every day. None of them, yet, things he has overheard that we would rather him not say. All of them bringing joy into this house one precious syllable at a time.
I'm not counting numbers, letters of the alphabet, or animal sounds. Just words. Words that Nate says reliably and frequently.
And yes, I'm bragging. I'm amazed by my little boy who is expected to say 50ish words at this age but instead puts together 3-4 word sentences. If you give him an opening he'll tell you the story of the two stinkbugs who were walking on his wall but daddy took them away in a tissue. To go pee pee in the potty. Or he might tell you about airplanes and helicopters flying up, up, in the sky. He may even tell you about rolling the yellow ball to Kent in gym class right before they crawled through a blue tunnel.
Of course, chances are also good that as an uninitiated person you may not understand a lot of it. But if he told you "Nate please ice water, right now!" I think that one would come through loud and clear. If he sees someone give you something or do something for you and you don't say thank you, he'll say it over and over until you acknowledge him and thank the individual in question.
He uses a new word every day. None of them, yet, things he has overheard that we would rather him not say. All of them bringing joy into this house one precious syllable at a time.
Sunday, November 28, 2010
Non-Dairy Rice Whip
I was driving home from the market tonight. Nate was in the back seat and we were singing "Old MacDonald". I realized that I had a totally goofy grin on my face. We were having fun. He was being charming and sweet. We had even managed a trip to the market with no blood shed and no destruction of mommy nerves ( a true coup).
Most of the time, that's how I feel around my little boy. Happy, grateful to have him, thankful for his easy going, sweet, funny, creative personality. He uses a new word every day and explores the world with such wonder, and a total disregard for personal safety. (He took a "big step" off the couch today and after the tears dried we agreed he should hold mommy's hand for all future big steps.)
The other part of parenting this little boy is a constant grinding anxiety. I don't pretend that my worry is bigger than any other parent's but his eating and growing or lack there of is a source of constant trouble in this house. We were jubilant when he was eating and gaining weight after we got the allergy issue ironed out. Almost 2 months ago, at his last GI visit we agreed he was doing so well we should wean him off his meds. Gladly, we did. Slowly, his eating has decreased, his weight gain has slowed, and lately he has been telling us about "yellow spills" (his word for throw-up) in his mouth. It's hard to know when a toddler is being a toddler and when he is actually sick. We have dismissed intermittent periods of poor eating as "being alomost 2" and we were probably right. But now, with the exception of two good meals, he has eaten next to nothing in over a week and hasn't gained any weight in more than 2 weeks. He's back off the growth curve for weight, and that's my flashing red neon anxiety sign. I know I'm not raising the Jolly Green Giant. I know we're not big people and he'll likely always be on the smaller side of the curve, but he ought to be on it somewhere. He ought to grow. So tomorrow we will call the doctor and ask her if she agrees that we should restart some antacids. Does she also think we should restart the pro-motility drug?
Tonight, because he did actually eat a decent dinner, and because we are always looking for an excuse to sneak in calories, we did this:
Most of the time, that's how I feel around my little boy. Happy, grateful to have him, thankful for his easy going, sweet, funny, creative personality. He uses a new word every day and explores the world with such wonder, and a total disregard for personal safety. (He took a "big step" off the couch today and after the tears dried we agreed he should hold mommy's hand for all future big steps.)
The other part of parenting this little boy is a constant grinding anxiety. I don't pretend that my worry is bigger than any other parent's but his eating and growing or lack there of is a source of constant trouble in this house. We were jubilant when he was eating and gaining weight after we got the allergy issue ironed out. Almost 2 months ago, at his last GI visit we agreed he was doing so well we should wean him off his meds. Gladly, we did. Slowly, his eating has decreased, his weight gain has slowed, and lately he has been telling us about "yellow spills" (his word for throw-up) in his mouth. It's hard to know when a toddler is being a toddler and when he is actually sick. We have dismissed intermittent periods of poor eating as "being alomost 2" and we were probably right. But now, with the exception of two good meals, he has eaten next to nothing in over a week and hasn't gained any weight in more than 2 weeks. He's back off the growth curve for weight, and that's my flashing red neon anxiety sign. I know I'm not raising the Jolly Green Giant. I know we're not big people and he'll likely always be on the smaller side of the curve, but he ought to be on it somewhere. He ought to grow. So tomorrow we will call the doctor and ask her if she agrees that we should restart some antacids. Does she also think we should restart the pro-motility drug?
Tonight, because he did actually eat a decent dinner, and because we are always looking for an excuse to sneak in calories, we did this:
Monday, November 22, 2010
Giving Thanks
Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday.
My mom had 3 siblings, and when I was little Thanksgiving was "our" holiday, the one everyone came to us for. Back then I liked the smells, the home made candy, the house full of cousins, and the shenanigans at the kids table.
Since coming to Pittsburgh I have adopted Thanksgiving for my own. I love to cook and I love to eat the things I cook. Thanksgiving is a gluttony of both. Since being together, Dave and I have usually been joined by family and always by some friends. Being cozied up in the warm house when it is cold outside adds another dimension to the celebration.
I remember the year when Dave's friend Chuck was here and it was too cold to do anything but lay around in our pajamas and drink champagne and watch TV documentaries the whole weekend.
There was the year my dad and Nancy came to visit and we played Dance Dance Revolution so aggressively and with such focus that we almost burned the turkey.
And of course Dave proposed to me on Thanksgiving. To this day I am surprised I didn't vomit my meal all over him.
We have traditions. Mimosas and bagels while I cook in the morning. Pumpkin pie from a real pumpkin. Chinese 5 spice turkey. Mashed potatoes with enough dairy products to justify my own cow for the holiday.
This year things are going to be a little different.
This year Nate is old enough to eat with us.
This year the table will be dairy and egg free.
I have been struggling with the temptation to make "mommy food" and "nate food", a concept which he is already familiar with. This weekend, however, Dave and I had a rude surprise. Putting lotion on Nathan with a hand that had held a hard boiled egg resulted in a whole body rash. Thankfully vomiting did not ensue. It did clear up this mystery from earlier in the week: We ate eggs. Nathan did not. Nathan got a rash, got hoarse, vomited. None of us slept. In retrospect, I am sure I touched his food with some invisible trace of incredible inedible egg on my fingers.
It's made me think about what is valuable about Thanksgiving. And the answer is "time with the ones I love". There will be only Nate food with the candles on the table. He'll "cheers" with sparkling cider like I did when I was little. Dave and I will be able to relax and forget about partitioning food.
The recipes will be new, and except for the turkey, vegan.
The house will be warm. The friends will be good.
I will be deeply thankful, as always, for my boys.
My mom had 3 siblings, and when I was little Thanksgiving was "our" holiday, the one everyone came to us for. Back then I liked the smells, the home made candy, the house full of cousins, and the shenanigans at the kids table.
Since coming to Pittsburgh I have adopted Thanksgiving for my own. I love to cook and I love to eat the things I cook. Thanksgiving is a gluttony of both. Since being together, Dave and I have usually been joined by family and always by some friends. Being cozied up in the warm house when it is cold outside adds another dimension to the celebration.
I remember the year when Dave's friend Chuck was here and it was too cold to do anything but lay around in our pajamas and drink champagne and watch TV documentaries the whole weekend.
There was the year my dad and Nancy came to visit and we played Dance Dance Revolution so aggressively and with such focus that we almost burned the turkey.
And of course Dave proposed to me on Thanksgiving. To this day I am surprised I didn't vomit my meal all over him.
We have traditions. Mimosas and bagels while I cook in the morning. Pumpkin pie from a real pumpkin. Chinese 5 spice turkey. Mashed potatoes with enough dairy products to justify my own cow for the holiday.
This year things are going to be a little different.
This year Nate is old enough to eat with us.
This year the table will be dairy and egg free.
I have been struggling with the temptation to make "mommy food" and "nate food", a concept which he is already familiar with. This weekend, however, Dave and I had a rude surprise. Putting lotion on Nathan with a hand that had held a hard boiled egg resulted in a whole body rash. Thankfully vomiting did not ensue. It did clear up this mystery from earlier in the week: We ate eggs. Nathan did not. Nathan got a rash, got hoarse, vomited. None of us slept. In retrospect, I am sure I touched his food with some invisible trace of incredible inedible egg on my fingers.
It's made me think about what is valuable about Thanksgiving. And the answer is "time with the ones I love". There will be only Nate food with the candles on the table. He'll "cheers" with sparkling cider like I did when I was little. Dave and I will be able to relax and forget about partitioning food.
The recipes will be new, and except for the turkey, vegan.
The house will be warm. The friends will be good.
I will be deeply thankful, as always, for my boys.
Sunday, November 21, 2010
A Boy's Best Friend
If you know us, you probably know that Dave and I are allergic to pretty much all animals. You may know that sitting in a car with someone who has a dog makes me wheeze. You have probably heard the story about Nathan and the poodle and may have even seen the picture of his eyes swollen shut from hypoallergenic dog slobber.
You may then have wondered if this boy was ever going to have a pet.
You need not have worried.
Nathan has adopted a creature.
Can you see the little guy on the inside of the bottle?
He's a stinkbug "Ti-buh" and he eats, as Nate told us anyway, "tasty green". That's spinach, in case it wasn't clear.
He's lived with us for a week now and Nate eats breakfast with him and kisses the bottle good-bye when he leaves for school. Yesterday we found him a friend on the widow sill and now the two of them are wandering their bottle together.
Not sure how long they'll be around, but Google says they can live up to five years, so if they really live on "tasty green" they could be eating breakfast with us for quite a while.
You may then have wondered if this boy was ever going to have a pet.
You need not have worried.
Can you see the little guy on the inside of the bottle?
He's a stinkbug "Ti-buh" and he eats, as Nate told us anyway, "tasty green". That's spinach, in case it wasn't clear.
He's lived with us for a week now and Nate eats breakfast with him and kisses the bottle good-bye when he leaves for school. Yesterday we found him a friend on the widow sill and now the two of them are wandering their bottle together.
Not sure how long they'll be around, but Google says they can live up to five years, so if they really live on "tasty green" they could be eating breakfast with us for quite a while.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)