Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow

Well, aside from a runny nose and some disturbed sleep patterns, our Baby B seems to be back on track. In fact, she had a tremendously hard poop yesterday to the point where I thought something was wrong with her. We were at dance class waiting for Patricia and Margaret out in the waiting room when she gave a cry out. I looked down at her and saw her standing, pained look on her face and her left foot was oddly turned. I thought something was wrong. I picked her up and realized she was working on a hard one. Sure enough, when I changed her she was right as rain. The loose stools have taken a sharp turn the other way. But she's been waking at odd hours after going down for the night and the only thing that's been consoling to her is boob. Of course, that's what she's gotten used to after being sick all last week. We have to get her back into the swing of things in the sleep department now.

And today was a red-letter day in our Baby Brigid's life. She had her first hair cut, or hair trim if you will. Kim, our long-time stylist, did the honors as she's done with all our children. Brigid was curious but not too uncooperative. We've give you some visuals for your viewing pleasure.






And Brigid continued her unusual night waking, crying and very upset about 10 p.m. She went back down about 11 p.m. and woke again about four hours later. I managed to let her cry in her crib for about 45 minutes but she wasn't settling down so she came in with us. Could be because she was sick; could be a stage. I just hope either one is reversible.

Wish a Kiss Could Make Everything Better

Well, Baby Brigid is rounding the corner of her illness I think, although she's still not herself. The doctor on Thursday said she had the rotovirus, which essentially is something a lot of babies get this time of year that produces things to flow from just about every oraface of the body. The throwing up has stopped but the pooping continues, at least it did through yesterday. I haven't changed a blow-out yet today. As a result of this, her sleeping has also been affected, so she's waking in the middle of the night wanting to come into bed for boob. Last night I lasted as long as I could listening to her scream on the monitor before giving in and getting her. Poor baby, she was wet with sweat from screaming. I guess some things you just have to use your intuition for and know your baby needs you. Unlike the events of last week, when I let her cry it out and she was covered in her own vomit. Live and learn.

The last few days have been gloriously warm and sunny, so Jack took the baby for a walk in the school yard yesterday. He must have really worn her out because she had a two-hour nap as a result. I only hope the weather holds so she can really get outside and run around. Right now, she's only had a few moments of freedom outside. The other two are loving it because it means more time on their bikes or using sidewalk chalk or running around the playground of the schoolyard. It also means shorts to school -- today and tomorrow are supposed to be in the high 70s or low 80s. Hurray!

Jack's leg is still excruciatingly painful and we're hoping the results of the MRI come soon. He's not holding out any hope for any kind of conclusion. I hope for his sake they can figure something out, because having mystery pain to deal with is no fun -- for anyone. The doctors hate it because they can't make you go away. You hate it because the doctors look at you like you're nutty and want you to go away. So they treat the symptoms without knowing what's causing the pain. It's discouraging and depressing.

But on a better note, Brigid has been kissing like crazy, in fact, last night, she went to kiss Daddy goodbye when he had to go back to work and she walked right from him to the antique sewing machine cabinet and gave it a kiss as well. So much for the weight of kisses. Everyone and everything deserves to be kissed because she loves everything. Makes you feel kind of special.

Word to the Wise: Listen When Your Baby Cries

Well, call me Mom of the Year. You'd think after three of these child units I'd get a handle on it, but Tuesday night, after getting Brigid to bed, I went upstairs to do some sewing. I had the monitor with me and after about 45 minutes, I heard her start crying. We try not to run right in so she can settle herself back down, and she did. An hour later, she was fussing again, but the same thing happened. She stopped crying after a few minutes. It happened again later in the evening a few more times. Jack came home from work; we watched TV, and then I went back upstairs to do more sewing. I'm making a few costumes for a friend who is putting on "Wizard of Oz" at her school. So I'm upstairs when I hear Jack call out for me to come down. He's at the foot of the stairs holding a very glassy-eyed, vomit-covered Brigid. She had been sick, probably more times than one. I scooped her up (no small feat ... she reeked) and while Jack took care of the god-awful mess in her crib I gave her a bath. She was so listless. She usually loves her bath, but she just sat there. I also discovered she was covered in poop, too. Poor baby had diahrreah as well.

Within a half-hour of her bath she had a raging fever. We brought her into our room and all she wanted was boob. So between boob and barf, it was a very busy night. The next morning, she was still very feverish. I went to work, leaving Jack holding a crying Brigid. She threw up again in the morning but took a few very long naps. Yesterday afternoon wasn't too bad, but she was feverish and I knew, even though it was Tylenol-induced, that her improved demeanor wouldn't last very long. By 6:30 she was asleep again. She woke an hour later, had a bath and was up until after 9.

She went down in the crib, but at 2 a.m. when she started crying, I jumped up to get her. I didn't want to take the chance at a repeat of the other night. She hadn't vomitted again, but she was boiling hot. I dosed her with baby Advil and brought her into bed where it was boob all night again. But at least she got some sleep, albeit restless sleep. An early morning today probably means early naps again. She was feverish when I left for work so we dosed her again with Tylenol. I hope it doesn't spread to her ears, but if the fever doesn't subside by tonight I'll have to call the doctor's office.

Jack in the meantime spent the morning having his hip MRI'ed -- is that even a word? -- because he has had no relief with his leg. They thought it was his back for a long time, but are now thinking it's the hip/leg because of the nasty fall he took while skiing a few months ago. Hopefully, the MRI will give them a better idea on how to address it. It's been very discouraging to him to have this constant pain and to be on so much Advil and Alieve. I can only handle one health crisis at a time.

Somber Thoughts on a Somber Day

In having just read a blog post by cyber-friend Jack Weinstein on the horrors suffered at Virginia Tech, it made me become circumspect of my own life and what God has given me. It's hard to imagine being a parent who sends off his or her child to college, expecting them to be educated, to be enlightened, to be independent, to be safe, to return, and then in the blink of an eye and the explosion of a gun to have that evaporate. I think of Margaret ... watching her walk into Stafford Middle School, such a confident, well-adjusted child who is is indignant over the world's injustices, who is empathetic to others' suffering, who can't imagine a world where people don't treat one another with respect, who has a hard time understanding a world where someone can walk into a school and start shooting. The president said he supports the public's right to bear arms as long as laws are obeyed. How can a 12-year-old wrap her head around the Virginia Tech tragedy knowing that the shooter was armed and dangerous yet hear the president say people have the right to carry weapons as long as they obey laws? I can't even wrap my head around that.

How can we protect our children, who leave the protective environs of our homes, our arms, and head out into the world, whether it's away to college or just down the street to the middle school or even to our backyard where Patricia's elementary school sits. Doing good things, being good people and living good lives isn't enough anymore. Do we have to instill a fear of pending danger, of long coats and duffle bags in our children? It used to be enough to tell them not to talk to strangers. Now we have to warn them of inappropriate touch, of ploys that deviants use to lure them to their vehicles, of brooding students who keep to themselves and dress in black and write hate messages on websites. And even in doing all of this, some malcontent can still enter a school building, a college campus, a shopping mall and take out his loathing at being bullied, at being a misfit, at his parents, his lousy homelife or because some website told him to and open fire. And the school officials and teachers, and the parents and the friends all stand in stunned silence -- those who are still alive anyway -- and wonder what they could have done differently.

We strive to instill in our children a sense of confidence, a sense that they are loved unconditionally, that they can point to us and say without embarassment or awkwardness that they love us because they are themselves loved. I will go home today from work and hug my Baby Brigid and thank God for the very existence of her; I will hug Patricia and welcome her from school into the safety of her loving home. I will pick Margaret up from school and hug her and ask how her day was and quiz her about her friends and the kids in her classes and be proud of her responses because she is the kind of kid who would report bullying, because she's the kind of kid who befriends kids who aren't with the "in" crowd and doesn't mind not being one of those herself. I'll say a prayer and thank God for another day with my children, all the while knowing there are at least 33 sets of parents who don't have that luxury today.

Getting Mall'ed by a Toddler

Our Baby B has quite the 13-month-old temper under her quiet exterior. She's finding her lack of verbal acumen frustrating and takes that frustration out by hitting, pinching and biting. All normal responses at this age. It's what you do with them that turns a potential biter into a child who can express herself without turning to violence. Case in point: I had BB at the mall last night. Both Margaret and Patricia were spending the night at Grandma and Granddad's house so it was BB and me on our own. I let her run around the pretty-quiet mall and followed along to keep her out of trouble. Whenever she would make a wrong turn, I'd go up along side her and steer her the right way. Sometimes that meant taking her hand. Well, that wasn't her idea of being set free. She started trying to peel my fingers off her hand and wrist. When she couldn't peel herself free, she started hitting my hand with her free hand. When that didn't get the results she wanted, she tried pulling my hand toward her mouth to bite me. She would cry and arch her back as well. So, I'd pull my hand and hers away from her mouth and pick her up. "No bites!" I'd say, and move her to another area. I'd set her down and we'd start all over again. Every now and then, when she would try to pull away or react by striking out, I'd put her back in the stroller, calmly saying, "If you bite (or hit) you go back in the stroller." I'd walk with her in the stroller for a few minutes and ask, "Are you going to listen to me?" and then let her out again. I don't know if she got it yet, but enough reinforcement and repeating the routine and she'll get it. Plus, in her own defense, it was getting late and she was very tired. She ran from one end of the mall to the other pretty much, so she was tired. We had a treat at Auntie Anne's -- part of a cinnamon and sugar pretzel. Yummy. So all was right with the world by the end of our mall walk.

She did fall asleep pretty easily as a result. I didn't even get to give her a bath. Just a wipe-down with a baby wipe and get her in her pjs. Some boob (for my own relief) and off she went. We didn't have a repeat of the last few nights where she was waking at 3 or 3:30 and not going back to sleep on her own, so I hope we're heading out of that. I am thinking she may have a molar coming in. A certain pediatrician, who will be nameless so as to protect his identity, told me the other day, "Tylenol, benedryl and back to bed, but you didn't hear it from me" when I described her waking. I gave her some benedryl last night, and maybe that helped.

Now I just wish we could find something to give to Daddy for his leg so he can sleep through the night.

We want to give a shout-out to Grandma Wright if we don't get a post tomorrow on the occasion of her 73rd birthday. Happy Birthday, Grandma! We love you!

The Ears Have It (At Least I Hope They Don't)

Something is happening with Brigid's nighttime routine. She's been waking up and crying heartily at night. I'm worried it might be her ears because she'll wake up screaming,... more than usual crying ... and then she doesn't want to lie back down again. I'm thinking we need to take her to have her ears checked out. Sometimes they have ear infections and not exhibit any other symptoms. Last night she woke up about 2 a.m. and I had a hard time getting her to settle so I brought her into bed with me because I had to get some sleep. Yet she wakes up in a fine mood. I remember once when Margaret was a baby, she'd sit up in bed at night screaming but be fine in the day. Came to find out she did have an ear infection and just lying down was excruciating -- lot of pressure on their tiny ears. We'll see if that's the cause. If not, I hope it's just a blip and she's able to return to her regular nighttime routine of sleeping through until about 6 a.m. Then I don't mind so much bringing her in because then I can get another couple hours of sleep.

Margaret and Patricia are spending the next two nights sleeping over at Grandma and Granddad's house, so it's just Daddy, Baby Brigid and me at home. It will seem strangly empty.

Here is a photo of the girls at church on Easter:
And here's one of Brigid and her Godfather, John Yonkovig:


And a bonus photo of BB at Border's Books:

Strep Can't Keep a Good Man Downs

Well, the Downs household is getting back to normal after a strep-infected weekend. Not counting the strep throat Margaret suffered two weeks ago, Jack came down with the malady on Friday. He woke up fine but by late morning was running a fever and had joint aches and chills. I kept the kids at bay, hanging out and eating dinner at the food court at the mall. I didn't have jazz class because of the Easter holiday -- Margaret and Patricia officially started their vacation Friday -- so we had Friday night at the mall just hanging out. Baby Brigid LOVES Border's Books. She can run around the children's section like it's a playground. She loves pulling books off the shelves, looking at them for a nanosecond and then dropping them on her way to other, more interesting offerings. They have a whole rack of stuffed animals that she also loves to play by. I just follow behind, picking up anything she drops along the way. She squeals and Ooooooo's all over the place, pointing at posters and signs throughout the store. There is a Peter Rabbit sign hanging over the department and she loves seeing it.

Saturday morning, Jack was worse than before so I insisted he go to the Plattsburgh Health Center for a throat swab. His doctor doesn't have hours on the weekends and the health center is walk-in treatment. I took the girls -- all three of them -- to Burlington for the day to stay out of Daddy's hair. We had a mission to find something suitable for Margaret and Patricia to wear to church on Easter Sunday. We've exhausted the options in Plattsburgh. There is nothing, absolutely nothing, for them to wear here. But alas, we had a similar experience in Burlington. Either it's all hootchie-mama with low-cut fronts and short-short skirts that threaten to expose "down there" or it's something suitable for a five-year-old or it's something suitable for a 50-year-old. But we had fun shopping anyway. We went to Ben Franklin's (an arts and crafts store with other things, kind of like Michael's) and had fun looking around there; went to Friday's for lunch; went to Church Street in Burlington to look around. Ended up at Marshall's where we found skirts and tops for the girls. Brigid's outfit was all set. I found a beautiful dress and hat weeks ago. I'll post pictures as soon as I can. We didn't get home until 9 p.m. having missed the 8:20 ferry back to Plattsburgh. Jack's trip to the health center resulted in a course of antibiotics for strep. The doctor didn't even swab his throat -- he could tell just by saying "ahhhhhh" that it was infected. Easter Sunday with the whole crew didn't look promising.

And it wasn't. Although he tried to give it his best effort, I told Jack to go back to bed when we were all getting ready for church in the morning after Easter eggs were found and baskets retrieved from their hiding places. So it was a girls' morning out. Church was nice -- not too crowded with the C&E folks mingling in with the regulars. Brigid was a sight -- you could hear people oohing and ahhhing as she walked in wearing her cute outfit. These people -- most of them, anyway -- have seen her grow, actually since before she was born, having witnessed my swelling maternity. And, given the fact that she is the pastor's Godchild, she holds a special place in their hearts. Margaret and Patricia looked so grown up in their skirds and tops. They were asked to bring up the offering, and I was very proud. Afterward, I took some pictures of the girls at the flowers on the altar, again, I'll post as soon as I can. We then had a visit with Godfather John before heading off for a girls' only breakfast. I picked up some daffodils to take over to Grandma and Granddad's house, where we would be having dinner later. It was a lazy afternoon after that until it was time to go. Jack managed to go over for dinner, but it was an early evening for us all because he was fading fast. Just as well. It was a long day and an early morning, so we were all tired.

I took Monday off from work and we hung around the house. I helped Patricia with her homework -- she has to make an ecosystem for science. She chose the desert and we researched information and then went to Michael's to pick up some supplies to make the diorama. We went back to Jack's folks' house for dinner to eat up some leftovers and he was feeling a little better, actually ate his first real meal since Friday. Brigid was enjoying walking around the house and has discovered the carpeted stairs, which she has begun to master. She doesn't have access to the stairs in our house, so this is a treat for her. Having had that awful fall last week has made us all a little gun shy about her walking and we've been paying very close attention to her, probably too close for her liking. But that will fade as her bruise goes away.

My friend, Kathleen, is visiting today from California by way of Vermont, so we'll have some catch-up time. She wasn't able to bring her two daughters with her this time -- it marks the year anniversary of her mother's death and she wanted to spend time with her father. She's on her way, having just called my here at my office. We'll go to lunch and then I'll spend the rest of the afternoon with her and the girls. She plans to return to Vermont this evening as opposed to spending the night at our house. Jack plans to go back to work today. I hope he's up to it. Being sick can really take the wind out of your sails. Here's hoping for a gusty, nor'easter to help keep him afloat.

Bruised But No Worse for Wear

Well, Baby Brigid seems to be herself this morning, albeit with a shiner on her forehead. She was very tired and clingy last night. She fell asleep briefly around dinnertime. I gave her a bath and some boob and she fell asleep for the night about 7:30, which is much earlier than normal. I checked in on her a few times in the evening but she was fine. She cried a few times throughout the night but didn't really wake up and she came in with us about 6 a.m., nursed again and slept a little more. But when I left for work she was sitting in the high chair eating yogurt and saying, "mmmmmmmmm" every time Jack brought the spoon to her mouth. I took the photos here last night after her bath.





It's a good thing babies don't remember these kinds of mishaps, but we remember every single one of them.

Goose Eggs Can Be Beautiful On the Right Person

We had our first real scare with Brigid today when Jack called me at the office about 11 a.m. saying BB took a fall and cracked her head on the door frame between the living room and TV area. I dropped everything and ran home to find him holding a whimpering, hyperventilating baby with a knot on her forehead the size of an egg. It was blue and purple and ugly and it changed the shape of her head. I was really very scared and called the doctor's office to see if they could get her in right away to make sure she didn't do something awful. She screamed when I got her in her fleece suit and cried all the short drive to the doctor's office. She reached out to me (I sat in the back with her while Jack drove) wanting me to take her out of the car seat, but all I could do was speak soothingly to her and keep my hands on her so she could feel some kind of comfort, at least the best I could offer in her then.

A nurse gave us a small cold pack, but BB wouldn't allow me to put it on her head. I can't say as I blame it. It must have hurt like nothing she's ever felt before. It hurt my head to look at it. They took her vitals, and they asked us some questions, the answers to which Jack had. She cried right away; there was no lull from the moment she cracked her head to the first cry, which means no loss of conscienceness. She did not throw up, and although she had been crying hard and for a while, she was herself by the time the doctor finished checking her reflexes and other areas on her skull. She wanted to get down and walk around the exam room. We got the usual warnings to keep an eye out for, but otherwise she was fine. She probably has a nice headache, but I did learn something: if you do give a child something to ease the pain in a situation like this, it should be tylenol and not advil because ibuprofen can increase bleeding, and a bruise is internal bleeding. Hmmm. I did not know that...

So our poor baby has a goose egg on her head for the forseeable future, and if I get a photo of it today I'll post it here for all to see. But everyone at the doctor's office kept saying things like, "She's beautiful even with a bump." She sure is. Poor pokey.

Other than that, Mrs. Lincoln, how did you enjoy the play??

Brigid has been exploding developmentally, however. Despite the tumble, which she took because she tripped on her own feet, she has been walking all over the place like crazy and is getting steadier on her feet when she's not clobbering herself. She has also added a few real words to her vocabularly. Although she says sounds that we take to mean things, she has actually said: Hello, uh-oh, balloon, kitty, doggie (although she's said something that sounds like doggie, usually when she sees a dog, she does a woof woof sound, but we count that). She says Dah Dah and Dah Dee, and I think I heard her say something that sounds like Patricia. But it's also what she's not saying but understanding that is astonishing. She knows things from her books and lyrics to songs we play. I said to Patricia the other night, "Sample a taco, Paco," which is a line from John Lithgow's CD. When BB heard that, she went out into the living room, started dancing and pointing to the CD player. I realized she heard the line and wanted to hear the song. If I say something like, "Hear the tick tick bunny," which is a line from the book, "Pat the Bunny," she goes looking for the book for you to read to her. She will look for her cup if you ask if she wants a drink. She'll go to the cookie canister if you ask if she wants a cookie. She'll point at Brin and indicate that she wants to go see Brin if you say Brin's name or kitty or Brinny kitty. There's so much that she's responding to and understanding, you can't keep up. It's amazing to watch. Now if we can only keep her safe...