Wednesday, September 14, 2005

A trunk, shopping and bolus

Today was not a good day. It wasn't a bad day. A bad day on the Thida scale of bad days involves a trip to the ER or hospital. No, this was a day filled with mild annoyances and simple pleasures. It began with our nanny calling in sick, because she caught a cold from Little T.

We had a brief interlude of calm where we all snuggled on the bed. Then I realised that Little T's jumpsuit was in fact now jodphurs coming to knee length. He needs to go into twelve month clothes. I don't have even backup girly long sleeved 12 month stuff since Special K was in summer clothes at that point.

A kind friend had given me hand-me-down clothes sorted by size (bless her) for Little T. C had just shoved them into a trunk "to get them out of the way". They ranged in size from newborn to 4T. So this morning I could no longer put off going through the clothes to find something for Little T. It was either that, or a trip to Target. And my inate sense of cheapness forbade that. It turned out to be an expected pleasure as well as annoyance as my friend loves sailing and has a lot of cute nautical outfits. Plus it brought back memories of my friend. A favourite was going to see elephant seals with her and her family. Many of the outfits we couldn't use because they were too small and had to pulled over the head. Little T can't raise his left arm over his head. So I have a big stack of clothes to give away. I'll have to ask my friend what to do with them.

Just as I was done, I realised it was time for Special K's gynmastics. I hadn't left enough transition time for Special K. So it was "Just five more minutes" from Special K and fuss and worry from me, but somehow we managed to make it to gym on time. And Special K had a lovely time at gymnastics with Sylvia and Josie. Little T babbled and babbled and watched everything intently. He also smiled and flirted with everyone who passed by.

Then we went shopping at Toys R Us and Trader Joe's and Special K peed in the car seat, which was incredibly messy and smelly. Both kids were very good otherwise, but it was filled with petty annoyances like someone stopped abruptly in front of me in the parking lot. Maybe that's when Special K peed. And somehow it took hours. Though we started at 11:30, we didn't get home until 3.

And even though Little T had not had any food all day except a tiny bit of banana and a little bit of cereal, he refused to drink anything when we got back. So I gave him a bolus feed of 4oz down the tube.

As I was unhooking him, I stepped on the pump pole leg and cut my foot. But perhaps my blood sacrifice was not in vain. So far he's managed to keep it down, though he's had the dry heaves a few times. We took him off Prilosec for the PH probe and he actually seems to vomit less, so we've kept him off it.

I forgot to mention yesterday that he gained a little weight up to 8125 g and grew 67.3 cm. It's good that he's still growing, but he's not catching up. He's just maintaining a curve and the curve is still below the 3rd percentile. I don't care so much about that. What I do care about is that he's losing a lot of his baby fat and a year is a little young for that. So I see more bolus feeds in his future. We go to GI clinic on Monday, and we'll investigate more why my boy has no appetite. And for some reason, this reminds me of the Silly Sisters Song "My husband has no courage in him". I feel a filk coming on.

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

So I have a big stack of clothes to give away. I'll have to ask my friend what to do with them.

How does Star Fleet handled these situations? I mean, does the star ship have a child clothing swap area?

Life before replicators was hard.

He also smiled and flirted with everyone who passed by.

Grins. And why not.

I feel a filk coming on.

I'm not certain what a filk is, but I know what love is, and you've got it.

I'm rooting for K all the way.

Thida said...

I think they just recycle everything on Star Trek.

A filk is where you take a song and rework the lyrics to make another song.