The Creeping Crud is Back

Well, Jack is down for the count. Patricia got to school today, but Margaret is on Day Two and counting -- fever, headache and stomach bug. Jack started complaining last night that he, too, wasn't feeling very well and actually called in sick today. I grabbed the baby and ran out the door this morning, hoping to avoid the crud that has crept back over the household. So far, knock on wood. But it's all over -- everyone is reporting a stomach bug and fever, from day care to college.

As a result of the affliction, the girls missed their first jazz class. I expect Patricia will be able to make it to tap tonight, but Margaret will be a no-show again. It's a good thing the studio is just around the corner.

When I picked Brigid up at the center yesterday, the teachers said as a warning a few of the kids were sent home sick. I said we're already in the thick of things, so it wouldn't surprise me, but I'm hoping Brigid's bout with fever last weekend was her turn. There's nothing like a sick toddler, unless it's a sick husband.

Don't Kick to the Curb What You Can Sell Yourself Downtown

Brigid told a joke, or at least, made a deliberate funny. Oh, she's a funny kid already, and she's done some funny things mirroring what we've done. For instance, we'll put something silly on our heads and say, "Is this how it goes?" or "Is this where it goes?" and she'll laugh and say no. Then she'll do the same thing. Or she'll play peek-a-boo or say, "Where's Brigid? Where did she go?" Stuff like that. But the other night, she really made a deliberate joke. Last weekend, we had a yard sale and I pulled down the bin of Barbies to unload a few in the sale, and she found a Barbie shoe among the dolls. She carried it around most of the day and at bedtime, she had it on her finger. I asked her, "Is that where that goes?" and she looked at me, smiled and say, "No! It goes on your head!" and she held it up on top of her head. She knew it was wrong and that fact made it funny. I laughed and told her, "Brigid, you just made a joke." She laughed and said, "Brigid a funny girl."

Margaret and Patricia aren't feeling too much like funny girls today. They're home with fevers and stomachaches. Brigid had a low-grade fever on Friday and Saturday, so it's no surprise to me that the other two succumbed as well. Today is the first day of jazz class, so they'll be missing that as well. I'll have to pick up their homework assignments this afternoon. It's too bad that days off from school aren't like the old days off from school. When we were out as kids, it was a freebie. You made up the stuff when you got back. But the girls get so much homework every day, there's no way they'd be able to make it all up. I think the school should set them up for the real world, where no one steps in to do your work for you when you're out and away from your desk. It's piled up there until you return. Why cushion them for the inevitability of a never-ending workload?

The yardsale was fairly successful, but it was a long day. Jack took Margaret and Brigid up to the lake for the day and Patricia stayed home to help me. As a reward, we dressed up and walked downtown (we're down to one car now) to go to Irises for dinner. But before we went to the restaurant, we stopped by the used-book store to browse. While I was waiting in line to buy a book I picked up for Margaret, I noticed the woman at the counter checking in books for someone. They looked familiar and then I realized they were familiar. They were the ones I didn't sell in the yardsale and put to the curb! The kid picked them up and headed down to sell them to the bookstore. The girl made $17 on them! Doesn't that just dogear your pages? At least Patricia and I had a great time at Irises. But that $17 would have come in handy.

Homework is Highly Overrated as Far as Brigid is Concerned

First, I have to say happy two-and-a-half-years birthday to Brigid. Can't believe our baby is two and a half! And she's every inch a two-and-a-half-year-old!

Well, we've all pretty much weathered the blight that passed through out house, although I still have a cold and cough. Brigid has the sniffles, which I'm treating at night with Benadryl. But this morning, she was such a log, I had to wake her up by dressing her in bed to get her to the child care center, I'm wondering if it isn't making her too sleepy. But once she was up, dressed and in the car with a toasted English muffin and cup of milk, she was perfectly happy. The drop-offs at Sibley have been better. She's still a clinging vine when we go in -- no more running down the hall to her room. She wants to be carried in. But she'll go to Gina or Jody without hesitation when it's time to hand her over. I think she looks at it as part of the routine now. The last few mornings in the car she's said, "Brigid go to Gina or Jody." And I'll say, "Yes, Brigid will go to either Gina or Jody." A lot of conversation with Brigid is repetition. She'll say something and I'll repeat it in the affirmative or negative. "Brigid so happy." "Yes, Brigid is so happy. I'm glad Brigid is so happy." She has a narrative when we get in the car on our way to school or after I pick her up. She'll say, "There's Brigid's playground" at the school, or "Goodbye, playground. Goodbye, friends, Goodbye, cars..." We'll pass a store on our way home that has a sign in the window advertising those slush puppy drinks. She'll say, "There's slush puppy." Every day, every time. We'll pass our church, which she says is her Uncle John's house (her Godfather, Father John). "That's Uncle John's house," she'll say, every time, every day. But last night, on our way home from the store, I went by her school and started on the route we take home every day. When I didn't turn down William Street like I usually do, she got all upset, saying she wanted to go home. I told her we were going home, just going a different way, she started saying, "Brigid go home a different way" with the emphasis on the word "different." Now she's been saying she's doing all kinds of things a different way. "Brigid wash her hands a different way."

What we'd like her to do a different way is express her frustration and exasperation. They told me yesterday at the center that they've had to speak to her about hitting and pushing her friends. I told them we're working on it at home, too, all the time. It isn't as pronounced as it was a few weeks ago, but she'll still go up and swat at you if she's upset.

Our lazy days of low involvement are coming to an end. Dance starts up soon, so we'll have tap and jazz two nights a week plus my own jazz class on Fridays. I'm trying to enjoy the time while we have it. The dance classes are great -- they're excellent exercise, and the girls love it. But it's a huge time commitment. At least we have one more year before Brigid dons her tap shoes and starts tap tap tapping for Miss Nancy.

Margaret and Patricia have weathered two weeks of school and have already had mounds of homework. Margaret had to write a short story last night. It was good, but it was very time-consuming. It's probably just the tip of the iceberg. She's getting along well so far, but she's certainly not as happy this year as she's been -- she didn't get the teachers she had hoped for and she's missing her friend, Maggie. They talk on the phone and email, but it's not the same. We're hoping to go to Buffalo in October for Columbus Day weekend. I suggested the possibility of Maggie joining us, but the logistics are compliated. Margaret jumped on the idea before it was even out of my mouth. I think it would do wonders for her morale, but I don't want her to get her hopes up too high. In the meantime, I'm hoping she'll spend more time with some of her other friends to help her over the hump. Patricia is flourishing as a sixth-grader. She seems to really enjoy being in the middle school with the big dogs. She's a pretty capable kid. She's been taking Brigid to the park many of these days afterschool. Brigid can hardly contain herself to wait for Patricia to finish her homework first. Brigid will say, "No, Busah, no homework. Park!" Maybe if we were to bring Brigid to the middle school, she could convince all the teachers, "No homework; Park!!" they would see it for the sensible command that it is.

They Never Explained That 24-Hour-Bugs Multiply By Household Number

Well, the blight that spread over the household, first manifesting itself in a puking 2-year-old, soon descended upon Patricia, Jack and myself, sparing, for the time being, Margaret. Brigid was throwing up until Monday morning, when she heaved her last heave. But by Monday night after lights out, Patricia was grabbing for the garbage can, and Jack and I were running for the loo. Patricia's biggest fear, of course, was being sick for the first day of middle school today. But by mid-morning, she was on the couch with a cool cloth on her head and didn't have another episode. I don't know if that's because she was getting over the bug or just didn't have anything left to spew. I spent the day in bed; Jack was able to get up and do what had to be done. Brigid had a good day at day care, away from the sickness, which is, of course, ironic since we're sure that's where she picked it up in the first place. Her previous teacher in the wobbler room told Jack yesterday afternoon that the stomach bug was sweeping their classroom, so there you have it. I'm at work today, but I'm still a little shaky. Jack has this week off, which is good and bad. Good that he didn't have to call in sick and leave the newsroom with an unplanned absence, but bad in that he's sick on his vacation. We're hoping it just fades away the way a 24-hour bug is supposed to.

The girls got off to school this a.m. without a hitch. I'll be anxious to hear how Patricia did on her first day with the big dogs. Margaret, by now, is the top dog -- an 8th grader -- afforded all the rights and privileges as such. And so it goes. Another year has begun and soon, we'll be staring Christmas in the face saying where did the time go? Then it will be the end of another school year when we're saying the same thing.

Brigid will be two and a half in nine days. It's hard to believe chronologically but very believable in her behavior and abilities. Her vocabulary is just exploding, her ability to reason and use logic (when it benefits her the most) is astounding. Her spatial perception is incredible. She knows where she is in the city at any given point. She says without prompting where Jack's office is (calls it Daddy's house) or my office on campus (calls it Mommy's house). She knows where the mall is and whenever we pass it, if we're not bound for it in the first place, she wants to go. She'll call out, "Wanna go to the mall mall mall." We don't know why everything tends to come in threes with her, but it often does. We'll go to the mall mall mall in the car car car to eat eat eat. I'm very excited at the new construction at the mall mall mall. We'll be getting a Target in October and I'm thrilled beyond words. Wish it was open for back-to-school shopping. If it turns out to be a Super Target with groceries, then I'll be in hog heaven.

Brigid has still been quick to hit people, but it isn't as pronounced as it was even a few weeks ago. We're hoping a combination of ignoring her, putting her in time outs (which she doesn't seem to mind in the least) and talking to her about how it hurts to be hit might be making a difference. Or, she's just growing out of the stage and is moving on. What we have been seeing more of lately is a clinginess and anxiety at drop-off at Sibley. What used to be a momentary hesitation when I'd have to leave her has become a huge thing, with her refusing to leave my arms. She will burrow her head in my shoulder and hold on tight. Now, under different circumstances, having a hug like that from Brigid is heaven. I'd hold her like that all day if I could. But this is just when I have to leave for work, and she's not the least interested in being left with one of the teachers. The last two mornings -- yesterday, when I was sick and this morning, when I was still on the borderline -- I had to just plunk her into Gina's arms and run. I know she was fine moments after I hit the parking lot, but it still breaks your heart nonetheless. When I pick her up this afternoon, she'll be thrilled to see me, and there will be no talk of the earlier unpleasantness. The teachers will say she had a great day, and that will be that. But I don't know what has turned her into this clinging vine every morning when she previously had been very happy to be off in the room. I think it's yet another stage she'll have to get over. Either that, or I'll be perfecting my 50-yard dash for some time to come.

Sick Baby Is a Labor Day of Love

One of the great things about having a kid in day care is they learn to share everything, every green-boogied nose, every form of cough, every pink oozing eye, every strain of stomach bug. It's the latter that Brigid had the pleasure of receiving on Friday and hasn't been willing to hand it over to anyone yet. Friday night she let loose while watching a movie. Poor Patricia -- she was the one holding her and both Jack and I were at work. I happened to call at the crucial moment to see if everything was alright only to be told no, it wasn't. I came right home to find the girls trying valiantly to clean up the mess. Brigid continued to be sick throughout the night and straight through to this morning. She had the longest stretch of non-vomiting last night when she went to bed and woke up this morning to throw up, so we're hoping that's a sign that it's winding down. We had planned on spending Labor Day weekend up at camp with an excursion to Glens Falls on Sunday with Margaret and Patricia for school clothes. I was then going to come down to do some work on Monday and go back up to the lake to pick them all up. We ended up going for the shopping on Sunday as planned, but Jack was at home with a sick baby. I did go through with my plan to go to work, and Jack and the girls are home now with a still-sick baby. We'll see what the afternoon brings, but hopefully it won't be more of the same -- hollars for towels and a constantly running washing machine.

On a more pleasant note, Patricia had her orientation session at the middle school last Wednesday morning. Although she was a little nervous, Margaret came with us and I think that made Patricia feel both secure and proud. She is an Explore, the same team that Margaret had been on which means she has the same teachers Margaret had. They were all thrilled to hear they'd be getting another Downs girl -- with both Mr. Durgham (her science teacher) and Ms. Miller (history) asking if Patricia is anything like her big sister. She got her schedule and her locker assignment. She's excited and because both girls are in chorus, they'll actually have a class together every other day. Margaret is looking forward to the start of school, but because her best friend, Maggie, is gone she's a little sad over the prospect of not having her there. We told her it's a good opportunity to strengthen the bonds she has with a few of the other girls in their little circle and to branch out and make some new friends. Easier said than done, and as a 13-year-old, she gave us that "Oh, brother" look. But she'll be fine. She doesn't get her schedule until the first day of school, which I think is ridiculous. They could easily mail them to the kids (or email them) a week ahead of time so they have an idea of where they're going right off the bat.

Before the stomach bug took hold, Brigid had a good first week in the toddler room at Sibley, although most of the mornings were difficult drop-offs. I had to peel her off me, and she protested each day. Friday I had to just throw her at Jody and run with her screaming in the background. Although I knew it would be fine ... and got the report that I wasn't even to my car before she stopped crying ... it still breaks your heart to have to do that. Because she's sick, she of course is staying home today. The college is in session even though it's Labor Day, so that means the center is open, but she wouldn't have gone anyway.

Last week also marked Jack's first week teaching again at the college. He's teaching a reporting class, and although they only met twice (he teaches Tuesdays and Thursdays) and only to go over the syllabus and take an assessment test, he's busy planning the classes and figuring out what he's going to have them do for the semester. I think he's going to enjoy this teaching gig, and it's a good way to get his foot in the door at the college. Now if he can only keep from catching whatever the college students get, he'll be fine.