Why I'm probably never going to volunteer in an ER...

This post is mostly for Hilary.  And any other mom that isn't good with blood or fluids. 

It was 5:45 AM Monday morning, and I had just gotten back in bed after feeding the dogs.  Actually, for accuracy's sake, I got up to pee a little after 5:30, and the dogs were all like, "BREAKFAST!"  I didn't want them to wake the baby, so I gave in and put kibble in their bowls so they would collectively calm the f*ck down. 

Note:  The dog thing happens every morning.  Sometimes I pretend I'm still asleep because I can FEEL them waiting for me to move or show signs of stirring.  It is very annoying.  I'd fix it if A) I knew how; and B) if I was more motivated to take a stand in the pre-dawn hours (which, no.  I just want to get the whole shebang over with so I can go back to bed).

Anyway, I climbed back in bed, pulled the covers up to my chin and started drifting back to sleep.  Then, all of sudden, I heard a loud THUD in the nursery followed a blood curdling scream.

I assumed that Banner had fallen out of his crib.  Except the thud - although loud - wasn't quite loud enough to be his little thirty pound body hitting the floor.  So - in the five seconds that it took me to sprint from my bed to Banner's room - I was imagining that he had fallen out of the crib and hit some toy (like his rocking cow) on the way down.  And of course I was thinking the worst, because I am a catastrophist and that is what I do.

Except when I arrived, Banner was still in his crib.  Which was initially confusing because I was still half asleep and thinking the worst while simultaneously looking for the source of the thud that precipitated the screaming in the first place.  And then I saw all the blood, and...well, I'm not sure what happened next because I panicked and started shrieking for Trevor.

Here's the thing.  I'm not good with fluids.  Poop and snot are a real challenge for me some days, which makes me feel guilty because everyone used to tell me that I'd be able to deal with them better once I had a child.  Yes, I do deal with them, but I wouldn't say it has gotten any easier.  And then there is vomit, which...well, makes me vomit.  Or at least almost vomit.  Banner had some bad milk back in December and threw up all over the back of Trevor's car, and I almost followed suit.  True, I was the one who drew the short straw and cleaned it up (Trevor bathed the baby), but I had to do it outside in the fresh air.  It was (literally) freezing, and the fabric cleaners and deodorizers kept turning to an icy slush on the car seat cover.  But I preferred numb hands to the alternative which involved being able to smell regurgitated spoiled milk.

So, it should come as no surprise that I am also not so good with blood.  Actually, I take that back, I'm fine with blood.  I donate blood.  The smell of blood doesn't bother me.  The sight of blood doesn't bother me.  INJURIES bother me.  PAIN bothers me.  And, for whatever reason, blood BOTHERS me greatly if associated with injuries and pain.  Does that make sense?  I can watch real life medical stuff (surgeries and what have you) on TV, because they are fixing the person.  Blood in that situation is apparently fine.  But blood as a result of an accident?  I freak the f*ck out.  Honestly, I think it is because - for a nano second - I can feel their pain.  Or imagine their pain.  And then I'm in pain and screaming with them, because I'm super unhelpful and empathic that way.

But back to Monday morning, Trevor came sprinting into the nursery with visions of compound fractures in his head mostly because I'm screaming like my child has just amputated his arm and thrown it at me.  Except, in reality, Banner had just bumped his nose on his crib and was bleeding from his right nostril.  Which doesn't sound like that big of a deal unless I explain to you that I've never had a bloody nose; despite my deviated septum and years of playing rugby on two continents.  In fact, I told Trevor YEARS AGO that if I - or any of our hypothetical future offspring - ever sustained a bloody nose, he would have to deal with it because I lack the experience necessary to be anything but a hysterical lunatic.

See how well I know myself?

Anyway, Trevor dealt with the nose bleed like a champ.  Which means he did nothing but comfort our child until it stopped bleeding on its own.  Luckily, this didn't take very long, and Banner was his happy, giggly self less than five minutes later.  Nose fine.  Teeth fine.  Crisis over.

Meanwhile, I was still all shaky and hyped up on adrenaline.  To calm myself, I stripped the bed and baby, stain treated every thing and tossed it in the washer.  Trevor mocked me for having to do all this immediately, but - to my credit - there isn't a single blood stain on any of the affected bedding or clothing.  Also, it meant that I had done two loads of laundry from start to finish before 8 AM. 

How's that for efficiency?

Because, apparently, I'm the efficiency QUEEN post crisis.  Which is probably why you want me on your team after the start of the zombie apocalypse.  Assuming I don't get eaten, because we've already concluded I'm not good with the initial injuries+pain+blood thing.  Hopefully I'll have Laryngitis that day so the zombies don't hear me screaming while I'm processing the shock, blood, PAIN and brains of the situation.

After that, I'm golden.

I made a chart for this post. No kidding.

OMG. I'm actually going to do something I said I would do! I know, I know: MIND BLOWN.

Here is how Trevor and Banner compare according to their well visits between birth and age 2:

Of course, this would have been more interesting if we actually had data on Trevor in the twenty-odd months that transpired between four months and two years.  I can only assume that Trevor was remarkably healthy between February, 1977 and October 1978.

Not that I'm judging, mind you.  I have it on good authority that Trevor was a handful.  

All this kind of makes me want to track down my baby book and see how thorough Grammy Pammy was back in the day.

What makes me laugh, though, is Trevor's reaction to weighing (almost) two pounds more than Banner at age two, but being over two inches shorter.  He thinks that makes him akin to a bowling ball.  But he wasn't.  If anything, he has two extra pounds of hair on top of that toe head:

Trevor at his second birthday party.

Other interesting tidbits from Trev's baby book?  The fact that Trevor was eating LEMON PIE at his first Christmas at the tender age of 10 weeks.

See last line in black if you don't believe me.

Which just goes to show that babies that were never breastfed and fed LEMON PIE at two months can turn out just fine.  I need to remember this if/when I ever breed again, because I was all nuts-o-cracko obsessed with Banner being exclusively breast fed and not introducing solids until he was six months old and blah, blah, blah.  And even when he started eating solids, I was all like, "Oh, no!  Not RICE cereal.  Not MY baby!  We've got to start him on oatmeal or he'll grow to up to be obese and diabetic!" 

(The boob milk sent me to the top of Mount Crazy fast.  I see that now.)

Comparatively, Banner's daddy was formula fed from the get-go and feasting on dessert before he could roll over.  And, no.  Trevor isn't diabetic.  He has only had one cavity in 37 years, and - despite all the studies that suggest a link between formula fed babies, increased risk of allergies, and what have you - Trevor has no known allergies, 20/20 vision and has incredible hair to boot:

Spencer and Trevor. 
Proving yet again that those G-wink genes are STRONG.

Meanwhile, my mother breast fed me for thirteen months and I have terrible allergies and myopia.

Figures.

Two year old wellness visit...

So, the Ban Man had his two year old wellness last Monday.  Our appointment was at 3:30, but we waited in the waiting room for over an hour because the pediatrician's office was trying to work all these sick kiddos in between the well visits.

And then we waited some more after we finally go into an exam room.  Now, I honestly don't mind waiting because I understand that the world doesn't revolve around me or my son, and there are a lot of sick people right now.  That said, waiting with a two year old for over two hours is a challenge.  All the more, too, because I didn't pack enough snacks or any games because I was an idiot and thought we'd be in and out in an hour.  Poor, stupid me. 

Seriously.  I'm a moron.  I've apparently learned nothing in two years.

Luckily, despite my insistence that he not show up (because I stubbornly thought, "I've got this"), Trevor was there for the whole shebang.  And?  THANK GOD because there simply are not enough hands when it comes to extremely bored, hungry and irrational toddlers.  Especially when their mothers are dumba$$es.

As for the actual visit, Banner did fine.  No shots this go round.  Only a toe prick for a blood test.  Of course, we braced for the toe prick like we brace for shots or the apocalypse.  Everyone in the room thought there would be screaming and tears, but we were all wrong.  Banner just said, "Ouch!" and then...STARTED LAUGHING HYSTERICALLY.  Because, obviously?  I dunno.  The kid is weird.

As for his stats, he weighed in at 30.2 pounds (75%), measured 37.25 inches (97%) and had a head circumference of 49.3 (70%).  He has gained less than two pounds since JULY, but grown nearly three inches.  At this rate, we will be able to ride the BIG rides at Disneyland sooner than later. 

It is just funny because I assumed he'd be the small fish in his new classroom, and he is age-wise.  As far as height goes, however, Banner already towers over some of his classmates - even the ones closer to three.  He is simply tall.  I don't know why this surprises me since I was 5'5 in the 5th grade (I leveled off at 5'10), and Trevor is well over 6 feet.  I guess since my sister is 5 feet tall, I thought anything was possible. 

Which reminds me that I found Trevor's baby book the other day, and I want to make some sort of chart comparing Trevor and his own personal mini me in the first two years of their lives.  Knowing me this will happen after I remember to blog about all the other things I already forgot to write about.  (Sigh)

In other news, Banner contracted some sort of nasty, nasty cold last week (from the pediatrician's waiting room, no doubt).  He never seemed to feel bad, though.  Just hoarse and snotty.  But the cold coupled with the transition to his new classroom made for an extra-special loooooong, exhausting week.  I know I'm not the first mother to claim that she wakes up with ever sniffle and cough her kiddo makes in the other room, but I swear I do - especially when I know going into it that Banner isn't 100%.  And I would be lying if I said I didn't resent Trevor a little bit for snoring so peacefully beside me at 3 AM while Banner has (yet) another coughing fit down the hall. 

I guess, part of me is thankful that I'm sensitive to the needs of my baby (even while unconscious), and the other part is like "Woo-Hoo!  Weekend!" on Thursday afternoon because I'm so incredibly exhausted that I assumed (in error, of course) it must be Friday.  And there is nothing quite as disappointing as realizing it isn't Friday than when you really, really, REALLY need it to be Friday. 

The good news is that he is feeling much better this week, which is awesome since snot ranks way up there on the list of things that people always said wouldn't bother me when I had my own kids, along with poop and vomit.  However, I'm here to assure you I'm still very bothered by all three.  Not really sure what that says about my maternal instinct, but it is what it is.  Good thing I think the kid is so cute.

Banner Art (O - U)...

Some of Banner's last artworks from the toddler room.

We *almost* made it through the alphabet before transitioning The Twos!

Owl.

Orange.
(Special since I went to SU!)

Purple.

I am assuming this is S for "Scribbles", but I don't really know.

Not sure what happened to Q, R and T, but here is U.

TWO? When did that happen?! Oh, right. Saturday.

Y'all.  My baby?  IS TWO.  I'm in complete denial about the entire situation. 

I know, I know.  Everyone said it would go fast, and it is starting to sink in that I'm going to blink and Banner will be going off to college.  But none of that is making the whole "time flying" situation any better, much less acceptable. 

Because...OMG, my baaaaaaaaby!

The thing is, the days feel like an eternity sometimes.  Our trip to Wyoming was only five months ago, but it feels like much longer.  And, yet, Banner's debut into the world seems like yesterday.  It is hard to wrap my mind around.  But there he is...driving around in circles the backyard in a battery operated Hummer sassing everyone in earshot.
 

Bossy pants.
 

But back to the party. 

We went with a FINDING NEMO theme this year, because Banner has been obsessed with the little, orange clown fish since the beginning of December.  Really, ice storm Cleon deserves all the credit, because Banner had never watched TV for more than seven minutes before being stuck inside with his parents for three days straight.  Part of me hates that he will happily zone out to a select few shows on the boob tube, and the other part of me loves the fact that I can now use the bathroom without an audience every now and again.

Trevor went all out on decorations, and Nemo was everywhere.  We set up while Banner was taking his birthday nap, and it was so much fun to see his eyes light up when he walked in to living room to see his favorite fish hanging out with all of his favorite people.  The kid was in heaven.

All in all, about thirty people showed up for the festivities.  Banner was a great host, and gave free rides in his ka-ka to anyone who was interested.  His only request was that Auntie Amy periodically give him a sip of her La Croix every now and again.

Drinking and driving.

We had requested no presents, but some people couldn't resist.  Banner didn't mind.  Especially when one of the parcels contained a drum set:

Mrs. Clemmer complained that it wasn't as loud as she hoped.
Did I wrong her somehow?!?!

But the best was the cake.  Trevor's coworker who made THIS CAKE and THESE CAKES in the past for the little B-Man, outdid herself (again!) this year.  We had so many compliments!

This would have been cute if "someone" had held still
and stopped chanting "NEMO! NEMO!"

 His favorite part were the Nemo characters that were covered in icing. 

(That's my boy!)

Blowing out the candles was complicated because I'd ask Banner to blow and he would say, "Blow!"  I get the same reaction when I try to get him to blow his nose.

And now because I don't know what else to say, here are few more of my favorite pictures from the big second birthday par-tay:

Birthday boy with his Godparents/uncles and aunt.

Oh, Uncle Pencer...

Uncle YUM and C.E.O.

Playing soccer with Uncle Aaaa-DAM!

It is not a party until the birthday boy falls off his
wiggle racer in the living room.

Showing everyone Elmo videos on YouTube.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BANNER!!!

Life is better with you!!!

(We all think so. XOXO)

Transitions...

The downside to Banner's birthday being so close to the New Year is that he transitions to a new classroom.  Last year, it happened right before the holidays, and this year he starts transitioning on January 6th.  Last year, he moved up with Brox (who has since moved to Ennis), and this year he will be moving to Room 12 with Lauren (a.k.a. La La).  

The transition is always bittersweet.  I know Banner has outgrown his current classroom and thrives when he is challenged, but we absolutely adore his teachers.  I ugly cried when he moved to the toddler room, because he was leaving Angela and Syleta.  But then I fell in love with Ebony and Natasha, and it was so rewarding to see the great strides Banner made developmentally in their care.  

Plus, it wasn't like Angela and Syleta were gone.  We still saw them all the time.  Until last spring when Angela left to go back to school, and my heart broke a little to say "goodbye" to someone who spent so much time with Banner during his first year on the planet.  

And now?  Christmas Eve was Ebony's last day.  She's moving to another center closer to her home and daughter.  I wasn't going to send Banner to school on her last day because I wanted him home with me.  But then at pick up on the 23rd, Ebony started to tear up and begged me to bring Ban the following day so she could spend one last day with him.  And, well, I was tearing up, too and couldn't bear to say "no".  

It is funny how close we get to those who care for and love our children.  Part of me feels guilty for needing to have a professional life and not staying home with Banner.  But the other part knows I am a better mom because I have that professional outlet.  And, of course, knowing that Banner is in a wonderful place with people who genuinely love and care about him makes the decision to continue working easy for me to make.

Still, saying "goodbye" is never easy and I am notoriously bad when it comes to change.  True, Banner is about to leave Room 7 next week anyway, but it would have been nice to continue to see Ebony's smiling face as we passed by in the future (Banner still waves and says "bye, bye" to Syleta every afternoon when I pick him up).  

At least I'm not the only one.  Ebony left a sign saying goodbye, and no one has the heart to take it down.  Not even a week and a half later.

MY Ka-Ka!

This is really a photo post with a few of my favorite "boy and his car" shots.  He loves the thing.  We can't go into the garage without getting into it.  Banner even hugs and kisses it goodnight at the end of the day.

Lord help us when the boy actually gets his drivers license in fourteen years!  He already thinks that being able to drive his Hummer (in circles) means he should be allowed to drive mama and daddy's car.  Which, no.  It doesn't.  But don't tell him that.  Toddlers are completely irrational.  I swear, you can reason more with a head of cabbage than a two year old.

We want to transpose some
mountains into the background.

Somehow having a battery operated car at home takes
away from the thrill of the Flintstone car at school.
#firstworldtoddlerproblems

Happy New Year!

It makes up for the fact that I was passed out on the couch by 9 PM, right?