The Second Return of Uno and the Demise of Tres

Pretty little Dos is Missing.
We had my cousins over for dinner last night. We feasted like kings and enjoyed ourselves, happily chatting and drinking wine until nearly the wee-hours of the morning. Little did we know, we were also hosting another feast in our back yard.... Raccoons...and Paul swears that he's gonna kill them the next time he sees them.

Early this morning, Paul goes down at my request to let the chickens out of their coop to graze and wander for the sleepy morning we'd planned. He comes back with a grave face and mouths to me (so that the kids can't hear) that Tres, the black one, has been strewn across the backyard and the other two are gone. He returns to the yard to collect the parts, which are mostly picked clean, so that they aren't discovered by the kids. While doing so, he spots Uno on the other side of the fence and sends me out to fetch her. Within minutes, I'm in the back of the fence, clucking like a chicken, to coax her out from hiding. She comes running over when she hears me and is easy to catch. We gather in the house to pet and love on the second safe return of Uno (you may recall how in September, Uno was lost in the "great outdoors" for nearly 4-days until we found her, gratis to a craigslist lead, on the side of the highway!). Two chickens accounted for; one, Dos, is still MIA.

Paul is melancholy all morning, mourning the terrible fate of Tres and the terrifying and grotesque scene which Uno had to live. We can only hope that Dos is safe somewhere, hunkered down like Uno did last fall and will come out later to be discovered. There is absolutely no sign of one brown feather to suggest she had a struggle with anyone. "This is why we shouldn't be keeping these things," he mourns. He's insinuating it's for the kids' sake, but I know he's thinking about his personal discomfort and emotional trauma. Who knew he was really such a softy?

We searched the terraces behind our house; first him and then me (since I can make the gentle clucking that brings them out). The entire time I'm combing the bushes and grasses above the freeway, I'm feeling guilty. Did I inadvertently leave the latch undone when I checked on them last night before the company arrived? Tres was nested nearest to the window. Could the raccoons be cleaver enough to fumble with the lock until they opened the door or was I just lazy in my haste to cook my cousins' dinner and left the window half closed?

Absolutely no sign of her in the wilds of the terraces. So, we've posted our craigslist ad again and have emailed out to the neighborhood via the parents' group. We hope there will soon be a reply, even if it is to note some small clump of brown feathers in the field. There is hope to find her - Uno has shown us that. However, tonight we mourn the definite loss of Tres. Hopefully, one chicken dinner is enough for the raccoons this week.

Alessandro - 19 Months

Alessandro is getting more and more like a little kid and less like a baby. Well, he still has a strong relationship with his pacifier, but in most aspects, he's a little man.

He's able to string two and even three words together (example, "apple juice, Momma") and eagerly jumps into songs or dances he knows. In the car, he will start clapping in all the right places to B-I-N-G-O and, from the other room, he will race to the television to chant "Spongebob Square Pants" when he hears the pirate ask, "Who lives in a pineapple under the sea?" My mom watched him one morning and when I came back, she marveled in telling me that he sung himself to sleep singing the "A, B, C" song. He knows all the way to "E" and then just starts making them up.

He parrots everything that's said to him and the girls have found this a lot of fun. "Say 'silly song,' Alessandro," they'll say, and he does. They will spend a whole car ride asking him to repeat words and no one tires of it. One morning, again at Grandma's, I prompted him to say, "I love you." We were entertained and warmed by a whole symphony of back-to-back "I love yous" that at times when into song and were shouted at the top of his voice. Valentines Day come early.

The flip side to this is that he knows he's growing up; he wants to do everything himself. Mealtimes are a disaster and a mess. I've decided just to throw an art smock on him and sweep the floor 5-times a day instead of fighting or training him. The exchange just results in more mess and both of us upset. I have needed to take away the crayons and art supplies while he is awake as he will proceed to draw on anything and his sisters get very upset that he's "ruined" their drawings with his slashes of color. And he has started his "terrible two" tantrums...yikes!

All in all, however, he is the purest form of joy and enthusiasm. We get all kinds of complimentary comments about him, often confirming his "Little Man" status and demeanor. We love him to pieces!

Sick

It all started a week ago. It seems a whole lot less dramatic now, but only because we're on the back end...the back end of a giant tsunami that totaled this household completely.

Day 1: Alessandro was cuddling in bed with us in the morning and, after drinking from his sippy cup (his equivalent of a lovie), he threw up a little bit. Completely confused about what just happened, he held it in his mouth long enough for me to jump out of bed and carry him to the bathroom sink. That was weird, Paul and I wondered.
We had plans of driving out to look at a couple houses with our realtor. We were already running late, but had to stop on the side of the road 3 times on the way there to clean up the Little Man who had absolutely totaled his outfit and his car seat. Paul got to look at the house while I sat with the kids at the curb of the street and helped Alessandro "get his yuckies out." We didn't know what was going on with him, but I asked Paul to take the girls and go with the realtor to see the rest of the tour while I headed back to Grandma's. Not only could I clean the little guy and his stuff up, but I could keep him separated from everyone else a bit longer.
Even thought we got him cleaned up, he needed at least one more bath at home before he fell asleep. The sequestering starts.

Day 2: I'm worried about how often this guy is getting sick. He started a fever and I think about H1N1....tamiflu is on my mind so I call my pediatrician's cell phone. She wants to see him. He's alert, she says, and hasn't yacked all morning. Perhaps it's over. He's got a small amount of fluid in his right ear, nothing painful at this point. Wait it out since the tamiflu can cause vomiting in its own right. That afternoon, the vomiting comes back anyhow. It's so hard to take care of a kid who doesn't yet know what to do when vomiting. At least the girls know to lean over a bed-bowl or toilet -- even a sink. With little Alessandro, he goes wherever he happens to be. You need to have quick reflexes.. and a lot of cleaning detergent.

Day 3: Vomiting continues with a vengeance! He can't keep anything down - it goes out on either end. To make things worse, Bettina picks up a fever. I go to town at the pharmacy. Not only is it the last day of the year (have to spend the Flexible Savings), but my friend Patti tells me her drama in trying to care for her boys while spending 4-hours on her own bathroom floor! Her advice: Immodium and ginger ale for Mommy.

Day 4: Ava's picked up a fever, too. Neither girl is having the GI troubles BB has, however, Daddy suffers a little. My hands are chapped from washing them and everything else so much and I'm doing like 4-loads of laundry a day to keep up with the infected clothes and linens. Alessandro won't let me out of his sight. He has to be physically touching me or he complains. Poor muffin! Our house has the constant disjunct music of coughing in 5 different keys. It's hard for anyone to sleep uninterrupted.

Day 5: I contemplate calling the dr on a Sunday morning of a 4-day weekend. Little Man hasn't had a wet diaper and will not drink near enough. He gave up on the Pedialyte yesterday, and now won't even do juice. I even offer him soda. Although, he does have a small appetite....but only for a few bites of pumpkin pie! More and more laundry. I spend the night skimming medical pages on the internet and believe that Little Man must have the rotavirus. It is supposed to last up to 8-days!! Oh, Lord, give me the strength!

Day 6: This is the first day in 5 he hasn't thrown up!! Paul complains about having to go to work when he's not feeling well. I stare at him with distain and well as the panic that pleads, "Please don't leave me here all by myself!!" As he leaves, he realizes he's got the better end of the stick and stops complaining. I call in the dr's when they open and they want to see ALL of them right away. I load everyone up (which is a feat in it's own: everyone wants to be carried, everyone's whining and crying about being too hot/cold, etc) into the car and try to start it. The impossible happens - the engine won't turn over!! I am livid! However, a friendly neighbor helps me jump the car and we're only 7-minutes late. The dr agrees the baby's dehydrated and wags her finger at me for not calling yesterday. Although he's alert, is interested in the toys and can handle a fair amount of mobility, he's dropped 3-lbs (13% of his body weight) and his capillary refill is a little slow - on the cusp of needing an IV for hydration. He also has a slight ear infection. Bettina has a raging ear infection - one that the dr wants me to see it's so bad. Not only is the ear inflamed and red with puss behind it, but it also has a pimple on it that shows there's even more infection waiting. She can't believe that Bettina's not complaining of the pain. "Does your ear hurt?" we ask her. She shakes her head no. "You've got a stoic one here," she informs me. Like I didn't already know. Both the girls' coughs lead the dr. to lend out the nebulizer. Bettina 3-4 times/day; Ava 1-2 times/day. I admit to her my worry yesterday and my reservations about calling on a Sunday. I'm informed that on the Richer scale, I'm an under-reactor. I'm jokingly given a "prescription" to call her anytime I am mildly thinking about calling her. She also wants to see a wet diaper from the boy by the afternoon or I'm to go to the clinic and get him an IV. She also wants me to get both liquid and salt into his system anyway possible - so I take him to McDonalds...he can't resist the fries or sipping off my Diet Coke. I have slight luck with the Diet Coke, but none with the fries. Even the girls, who have fallen asleep in the car in their own feverish realms (I don't dare enter any restaurant - especially one with a playland), refuse to eat much...but they of course enjoy the Alvin and the Chipmonk toys! By 3pm, there is still no wet diaper, so I go to the clinic expecting to get an IV. However, the doctor there veto's the IV and instead asks me to squirt 5ccs of liquid every 15-20 minutes for the next 2 days or until BB drinks properly on his own. I'm stewing a bit wondering if this young doctor has ever had 3 sick kids to take care of all by himself with all the laundry, floor mopping, sanitizing and custom cooking that goes along with it...are you kidding? Every 15-20 minutes?? But, he also give a little anti-nausea medicine which seems to do the trick. The kids hungry for the eggs and ham (??) Paul makes for dinner and he drinks a whole can on ginger ale over the course of 2-hours and falls asleep. Both girls fall asleep early, but with mid-fevers, still. They both sleep restlessly so, like the rest of the past 6 nights, so do I.

Day 7: Everyone sleeps until 8am!! The girls have broken their fevers, everyone has slight appetites and LO AND BEHOLD: Baby Brother makes 3 wet diapers!! I'm hopeful that we're on the back end. I can finally take them out to run a few quick errand, we check on Misty, and get everything ready to go to school tomorrow!! Thank goodness! I will get some downtime tomorrow! I think I'll go to the gym and take a much needed steam bath.....and now, to get to bed before 11pm! Nighty-night.

Suddenly, 40 Doesn't Seem to be the New 30....

I didn't have a problem turning 40 this year. I've believed, like most, that because we waited longer to get married and have children, essentially doing everything our parents had been doing in their 30's, that we were a young and vivacious as our parents. I had no concerns - only celebrations - around the black "over the hill" day.

That all changed at my last OB/Gyn appointment. Chatting with my doctor, she gave me the requisiton for a mammagram. "Now you're old enough to start going to these lovely procedures," she congratulated me. Whoa! I suddenly realize the obvious.... can I really be THAT old....shucks.

Our Holidays in a Blur

...Because a blur was how it really happened. How did it get to be 2010? However, we have the pictures to prove it - Christmas pageants where the girls were angels at one church and a sheep, cow and singers in another; parties at our house, Grandma's house, Sylvia's, polka dancing at the Monte Cristo; rich foods, special treats, wrapping paper, chaos, toys, thank you cards. Bettina's favorite gift? a digital camera, Ava's? a stuffed chinchilla, Alessandro's? a basketball set.
Lots of fun, celebrations and late nights. Santa came, left presents, ate his cookies and even drank his egg nog. A memorable month, indeed.

Too bad we had to start 2010 with a very sick kid. Alessandro finally appears to be coming off of a truly horrific stomach bug. Laundry, laundry everywhere, but not one item clean. On New Year's Day, Bettina came down with a fever, but no real menacing bug yet (fingers crossed!).