Enough with the Needles

Today was Brandon's last check-up with the Public Health Nurse until his preschool check-up when he turns four! My baby's no longer a baby. I'd say I'm disappointed that I'll no longer get periodic updates on his weight and height, but the fact of the matter is that he insists on weighing himself on my bathroom scale at least once a week anyway. Note to self: Perhaps you should be more careful to project a positive body image in front of your children and stop weighing yourself so often--even the baby's imitating you.

I feel like the health system here is taking chances by leaving parents on their own between the ages of 18 months and 4 years. The window of opportunity on early intervention in the case of developmental delays is completely lost by not deeming it necessary to see a child during that timeframe. Chances are that a child would see their family physician due to some kind of illness in those two-and-a-half years, but what if that doesn't happen? Natalie has been sick only once in her life, and it coincided with Brandon's birth around her second birthday, and it was a mild bacterial infection that cleared up with a course of antibiotics. She wasn't quite two-and-a-half when we moved to Newfoundland, and she hasn't seen a doctor while we've lived here. She hasn't been sick enough to warrant it. I guess we'll find out if she's developing on schedule when she goes for her check-up sometime after she turns four next April.

I'm happy to report that Brandon was deemed to be absolutely perfect at this morning's appointment. The nurse didn't use the word 'perfect', but I can read between the lines. She said at 18 months of age children are expected to know six words in addition to 'Mommy' and 'Daddy.' I'd say knowing eight times that many words, screaming "No! I go! All done!" while the nurse jabbed him three separate times with needles, then trying to put his own shirt on so that she can't jab him any more makes him pretty darn perfect. He also weighed in at just shy of 25 pounds, and he's 33 inches tall, giving him the perfect height-to-weight ratio (the nurse did use the word 'perfect' that time).

Despite my reservations about the lack of check-ups for the next 30 months, I'm pretty relieved to be done with acting as a human straightjacket to a screaming baby during immunizations. I'm done with the quivering lip upon sighting someone wearing scrubs. The confusion when the clothing comes off. The panicky crying that occurs on the baby scale (can they not think of a better way to weigh a squirming newborn/infant/toddler?). The outright shrieking and flailing when it's time to lay on the table for a length measurement (it's not the freaking rack, but you'd think it was the way my kids scream when a nurse stretches their leg out while I hold their head still).

The next time anyone in this family needs a routine vaccination I'll be able to explain what's happening, and there shouldn't be any screaming--just mild whining and protestation. Today wasn't just a milestone for Brandon--it was a milestone for me. You can just feel the sigh of relief, right?

Oh wait. Flu shots. Darn it.

So Proud

It's not often that my alma mater makes headlines, and it's even less often that RPI (aka Rensselaer Polytechnic Insitute) is featured on Saturday Night Live.

It all began last week with a directive from the medical director of RPI's health center, which inspired several articles much like this one found in the Albany newspaper, The Times Union, which included the following:

Your hands are washed and you're sneezing into your arm while you stay 6 feet away from anyone who looks sick. Now the H1N1 has another way to lay you low: no more beer pong.

Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute is asking students to curb the sharing of cups after a group of students contracted the swine flu during a weekend of drinking games, according to Dr. Leslie Lawrence, medical director of the school's health center.

"While it might seem fun over the weekend, it will not be enjoyable when you and your friends are sick and missing class or midterm examinations," he wrote in a message distributed to RPI students and staff.

Waldman, Scott. (2009, October 13). Beer pong: unkindest cup of all? Times Union, http://www.timesunion.com/ASPStories/Story.asp?StoryID=852071&LinkFrom=RSS, (accessed on October 19, 2009).

From there it was just a small leap to this little snippet on SNL:



Thank you, swine flu! I have always wished that RPI could get a little more publicity.

Everything's Amazing and Nobody's Happy

I think this first aired in February, but a friend recently posted this on her Facebook profile, and I thought it was worth sharing.



Funny stuff.

We Love Ballet!

Okay, so we don't all love ballet, but Natalie sure loves it. She prances around the house, constantly twirling and kicking, and while I don't love having to sit around the tiny little reception area at the dance studio entertaining Brandon for 45 minutes when he should really be home in bed sleeping I do love that Natalie loves dancing. As long as she continues to love it I will drag my lazy self to ballet class and sacrifice one day's worth of that most precious time to a stay-at-home mom--naptime.

Every member of the family knows how much Natalie loves ballet, but Kyle is particularly attuned to what makes his little sister happy. Not much more than a baby himself when Natalie was born, Kyle doesn't remember a time before his sister was attempting to run his life, push him around, and wrap him around her little finger. Kyle may only be four, but he's an expert at being a big brother, and he loves Natalie and Brandon with all of his impulsive little heart.

Every Thursday is library day for Kyle's Kindergarten class, and Kyle looks forward to Thursdays all week. He loves picking a new book, checking it out, bringing it home, and showing it off to all of us. I forgot that yesterday was library day, and Kyle didn't mention it, so it wasn't until I was unpacking his backpack last night and found a new book that I remembered. I was confused at first because this book was pink and had little girls in tutus on the front, and Kyle is an almost-five-year-old boy, and almost-five-year-old boys do not like pink. Or girls in tutus.

Then it dawned on me. Kyle picked out this book and brought it home for Natalie. My sweet little boy sacrificed his one book and his Power Ranger-loving pride to check out a book called We Love Ballet! for his sister. How cute is that?

What's Going On?

I've been neglecting my blog for over two weeks now, as my mother so helpfully pointed out to me yesterday. There has been a ton of stuff happening that is totally blog-worthy, but I've been so busy just trying to keep up with everything that I don't have the time to blog--not coherently anyway.

I've also been entirely overwhelmed by the weather. It's been raining for more than two weeks now, with the sun making an appearance for approximately eight total hours in this two-week period. The grand finale to this two-week sogginess occurred yesterday in the form of freezing rain, sleet, and howling winds. Rain and wind weren't a big deal before I had children, but spend a few moments imagining me carrying Brandon in one arm, holding Natalie's hand with my other hand, herding three more kids across a busy street and then across a busy parking lot, followed by an attempt to speedily secure all of them in a mid-size SUV. This involves buckling five squirmy kids into two carseats and three booster seats and a vehicle determined to be just not quite wide enough. Now cue the drenching rain and blustery wind. Sounds fun, doesn't it?

When I woke up this morning there was a strange light outside the window, and I was confused until I realized that's what sunrise looks like when St. John's isn't entirely blanketed by clouds and the sun manages to peek through. The sun has been out all morning, and it even seems like the hurricane-force winds from last night have disappeared. It's pretty cold out there, but I'll take it.

Maybe now I can start blogging again. I hear it's supposed to be nice for a few days. Here's a list of a few things I probably should have blogged about but didn't get around to because of my laziness:

• My mom and grandmother came for a visit to St. John's (It rained the entire visit, but I believe a good time was had by all--despite the extra night in Newark that Mom and Mom-mom were treated to.)
• I did the Run for the Cure (Someone should have warned me that street of St. John's are a far cry from my lovely, hill-free treadmill, but I still managed to do the 5k in 31 minutes, so I'm fine with that for a first attempt at a 5k.)
• We celebrated Canadian Thanksgiving (Thanksgiving before Halloween seems a little strange, but Kyle had a nice four-day weekend, sparing me a few trips to school and, therefore, a few drenchings of the sort described above. Happy Thanksgiving!)
• Shaun turned 30! (I made a cake. The whole day was about as exciting as my 30th birthday, which was spent primarily in the Newark airport. Shaun is having trouble believing he's 30, but this is alleviated by the fact that I had to turn 30 first. Happy Birthday, Shaun!)

I really hope to revisit some of these subjects, but don't hold your breath. The sun's out, but I'm still incredibly lazy. Okay, to give myself a little credit, it's not possible to be totally lazy when you're running around in circles taking care of a toddler, a preschooler, a Kindergartener, a house, laundry, the finances, doctor's appointments, birthday parties, snowsuit acquisition, vacation planning, and meals, just to name a few things.

I am, however, completely lazy for approximately one and a half hours each day during naptime--I'll try to allot some time to blogging between episodes of Dr. Oz.

Natalie Goes to Preschool

I've put off blogging about Natalie's first day of preschool because (a) let's be honest, I'm lazy, and (b) it really didn't end up being that big of a deal. Compared to my expectations, the entire event was a breeze. I expected tears, but there were none. I expected to argue with my little princess over her outfit, hairstyle, and shoes for the day--but it didn't happen. I even anticipated a little showdown over my choice of Natalie's morning snack, but even that never materialized.

I know how independent Natalie can be at home. She won't let me help her with her shoes, her clothing, or her toothbrushing. She wants to do her carseat up by herself. She tucks herself into bed without any help--though a story and kisses are still required once she gets all covered up.

However, my girl has always been intimidated by new people and new places, and she's never been anywhere without at least one of her brothers to keep her company. At playgroups she's always been one to wrap herself around one of my legs and hide her face whenever someone new speaks to her. If we're in a store and someone approaches to tell her how gorgeous her curly hair is she hides her face and won't speak to them.

Last Monday, Natalie waltzed into preschool, hung up her jacket, changed her shoes, took her new teacher's hand, and walked right off down the hallway, pausing only to smile over her shoulder and give me a little wave.

I was amazed, relieved, proud, and just a little bit sad. The timid baby girl is gone, and an independent, serious little girl lives here now. I guess, in reality, it was a huge deal.

I'm not going to lie, though. The sadness was only momentary. It was a relief to know that Natalie was going to make the whole preschool thing easier for me by not crying. She's also made it easier than Kyle ever did because she's much more mature than he is, and I'll never have to worry about her being the crazy little class clown. It might be selfish, but it has also done wonders for my sanity to only have one toddler around for a few hours each week.

Now that Brandon and I have four mornings of alone time under our belt and Natalie has four mornings of preschool under her belt I think we're all satisfied that this is a very good thing for all of us. Brandon doesn't know what to do with all the attention. Natalie thinks it's great to have something that's all hers. And I have a feeling my shopping time has been greatly enhanced--you'd be amazed at how easy it is getting one kid in and out of carseats, strollers, and shopping carts!

Day Six

Shaun's traveling this week, and once again I just don't feel like blogging--or anything else. I feel like curling up in a ball, spending my days on the couch, rising only to feed the kids handfuls of crackers, and sleeping the days away until Shaun comes home. This doesn't actually happen. There are school runs to make, lunches to pack, meals to prepare, diapers to change, a house to clean, ballet lessons to attend, laundry to ignore, blah, blah, blah. I'm a suck-it-up-and-get-on-with-it kind of girl, so I don't give in to the desire to hibernate, but it's an effort.

I've spent enough time alone with the kids to know that four days is about my limit. I fly through the first four days like Supermom, and then I always wake up on day five feeling like I flew right into a brick wall or something overnight. No more Supermom--just Superslug, Superwitch, Superblah, or something along those lines. It did not help that day five of my current single-parenting gig coincided with Saturday. Saturdays are not a good thing when you've been entertaining your kids alone every morning, afternoon, and evening for four days and then suddenly have to entertain all three of them all day long.

Today is day six, and I'm done. I'm not playing any more games, I'm not doing any more laundry, and I'm not listening to any more knock-knock jokes. The kids can watch TV from now until it's time for everyone to go to school tomorrow morning if they want. I'm not even going to give anyone a bath tonight--Shaun will be home tomorrow, and he can just wash two days worth of dirt off of them when he gives them their baths.

And you know what else? We're having hot dogs and Kraft mac and cheese for dinner, and, come Hell or high water, these kids are going to eat it and like it! Supermom has left the building.

Knock, knock!

My children are obsessed with jokes. Knock-knock jokes. And I hate them.

Kyle: Knock, knock, Mom.
Me: Who's there?
Kyle: Boo
Me: Boo who?
Kyle: You don't have to cry, Mom! It's just a joke! HAHAHAHAHA!!!!!
Me: Good one! *smiles*

Natalie: Knock, knock, Mommy.
Me: Who's there?
Natalie: Natalie
Me: Natalie who?
Natalie: Natalie who dances like a princess and lives in a castle!!!
Me: Huh? Oh. Good one, honey. *shrugs*

Brandon: Knock, knock. Knock, knock. Knock, knock. Mommy! Mommy! Knock, knock!
Me: Who's there?
Brandon: Daddy!!!
Me: Daddy who?
Brandon: DADDY! DADDY! DADDY! HAHA!
Me: Yeah, yeah. I know. You love your Daddy. *rolls eyes*

At least they're funnier than most of the jokes Shaun tells.

French Lesson

And now for a little follow-up to our geography lesson of a few days ago...

Kyle has French class on Wednesdays, and at dinner last night we asked him to tell us something in French. He was about to give us his usual "Bonne fête `a toi," but we interrupted him and asked him to teach us a different French phrase.

He looked at me and said, "Bo-zo!"

Shaun and I looked at each other, totally confused. It's not the first time Kyle has said "Bo-zo!" and insisted it was French. We joked that maybe that was French for clown? Perhaps Kyle was calling me lazy?

And then it hit me. "Bonjour!"

Bonjour probably sounds a lot like "bo-zo!" to a four-year-old. So much for Kyle learning to speak French.

My Little Ballerina

I know. C-U-T-E. And she's all mine.

Today was the first day of ballet class, and Natalie smiled and pranced her way around the ballet studio like the little princess she believes herself to be. I expected her to be timid and shy, and she was neither. It was adorable. Little girls are so much fun!

Let's cross our fingers and hope the first day of preschool on Monday goes just as smoothly.