Saturday, January 31, 2009

Twelve months

I took Avtalyon for his twelve-month checkup yesterday. Friday afternoon in the winter is not really the ideal time to schedule a well baby visit, but it's the only time I can do it without paying for a babysitter, so that's when we went. It went fine. Great, actually. I was kind of looking forward to it, truth be told. Because usually, these well baby visits around here go kind of like this:

"So, is he walking yet?"


"Holding his own cup?"


"How about blocks? Is he stacking blocks?"

"Ummm... no."



"Clapping his hands, how about that?"

"Uh, no, but I haven't been trying to teach him that one."

"Well, how about words? How many words is he using regularly?"

"Words, as in, English words that anybody could recognize, or... um.. I... not really any, actually, now that you ask."

And so I was greatly looking forward to walking in to a 12-month checkup with a baby who'd been walking for two months already, who uses something like 10 words, who plays games, does give-and-take, points, plays peekaboo, holds his own cup and! yes! knows his own name! Alas, what happens when you walk in with a child who is clearly developmentally normal is THEY DON'T ASK YOU ANY OF THOSE THINGS. Unfair as all heck, isn't it?

He was holding my credit card; the pediatrician took it, he took it back, and then offered it back to her. "Oh, he does give and take!" Then, "What are you feeding him?" I blathered on for a while about his outstanding pincer grip, his ability to hold his own cup, his shocking facility at sleeping through the night with only one nursing break--all those things that, you know, weren't quite happening at this point with Barak or Iyyar. "Mmm-hmmm," she said politely, after listening to his lungs and peeking in his ears. "You can turn his carseat around now if you want, you know." I launched into a diatribe about how it was really safer to keep them rear-facing for as long as possible, but installing convertible carseats rear-facing is a lot trickier, so, sometimes when we take a cab...

Through all of this, Avtalyon was being a rock star. He was toddling around the exam room, stopping every so often to shoot me a blinding grin and then demonstrate his royal wave. I mentioned his Abba; he crowed "Abba! Abba! Ah ba ba ba!! Ha ha ha!! Abba!" I said his name and he stopped what he was doing and looked at me. "Yes? You called?" He tried to open the garbage can, he made a good attempt at reaching the keyboard, he came over to visit me and drool companionably on my knee. He's 25th percentile for weight, 40th for height. He got his Prevnar and his last Hib shot yesterday, resulting in a fever this morning that disappeared quickly with some Tylenol. "He's doing great."

I felt a little guilty about the whole thing (shocking, isn't it? Me? Feeling guilty?)--as though I were somehow saying, "I know the first two were totally substandard babies but look, I got it right this time!" Which of course isn't how I feel at all. It's just that the first two had what one might call a total disregard for the foolishness contained in What to Expect the First Year, a volume of uselessness dumped in the trash by Iyyar's 6-month checkup as nothing but food for my neuroses. I think they're both fine developmentally, and cheerfully ignored the letter home that Barak got about his inability to draw X's and circles on demand. He draws houses full of dragons sleeping and eating chocolate cows. That's enough for me.

I also, while at the doctor's, got Iyyar's records and growth charts to take to the GI doctor's visit next Tuesday. Iyyar has been much better generally since we stopped with the dairy, but things have been going less well this week; there's been a lot of "my tushy hurts me," and "I can't poop!" He isn't really constipated though; regular dirty diapers lately. So I don't know. I did notice when looking at his records that he seems to have gone down a pound a month since I first brought him in about this in November; 33.5, then 32.5, then 31.5 at our last visit. I know that the first visit he was horrifically constipated so I can easily imagine that extra pound being all poop; he's also had a major source of fat and calories (dairy) removed from his diet. Still, I didn't like seeing that.

Anyway, we've got the records now, and his films from the hospital, and we had the visit with the allergist, so I've got everything I need for the GI doctor next week. Let's hope she's got some answers for us.

Monday, January 26, 2009

Pro-life, pro-choice

I don't usually write about politics here. The politics I care about most are in Israel, and I don't have the knowledge or the stomach to get into that on a regular basis. So far as American politics go, I don't get too wrapped up in it; we don't have a TV, I was almost completely oblivious of the election until a few weeks before it was time to vote, and so far as my personal make-or-break political issues, they are limited to the environment, Israel, and, yes, abortion.

I am very firmly of the opinion that the men in Washington (and the few women) should not be the ones making the reproductive choices for us all. They should not be the ones deciding for people like Julia, with miscarriages numbering in the double digits because of an unbalanced translocation, or the woman I know who waited six years to be pregnant, only to find out through an ultrasound that the baby would not survive to birth. They should not decide for the women with preeclampsia, or those with HELLP. And they should not be deciding for the women with no partner, no source of income but her own job, and no one to help her with a baby.

Every abortion is a tragedy, for everyone concerned. Yes, it's killing a baby. I'm very fond of babies, and I don't want anyone to kill babies. We can agree on that, surely. Isn't everyone (okay, not Hamas, but the rest of us) pro-life, when it comes down to it? Who's pro-death? Who's actually pro-abortion? Those of us who are pro-choice recognize that sometimes, all the choices are bad.

Which is why this organization gets my money. What a concept! Let's actually give women--at least some of them, those we can help--choices. Let's give them better choices. Let's acknowledge, for once, that most women have abortions because they can't take care of a baby--and give them a better choice. How about help with the baby? How about a crib, a stroller, baby clothes, diapers, and food? Oh--and while we're at it, how about help with daycare, so that the mother won't be unemployed and destitute as soon as she gives birth?

Great idea, isn't it? In a tiny country like Israel, it stops 4,000 abortions a year.

Wouldn't it be nice if, in this country, we could do something similar? How about, in this time of too many people needing too few jobs, if some of that stimulus money went to creating a program of--gasp--government-paid maternity leave? How about government-funded daycare? Think how many problems that would solve. More women would be able to take care of their babies, resulting in fewer abortions. Jobs would be created in daycares by the babies whose moms worked, and jobs would be left open by the women choosing to stay home with their babies.

Wouldn't that make everybody happy?

It'd sure make the babies happy.

How about if, now that we're all believing in change, we think about changing things for them?

Wednesday, January 21, 2009

But wait! There's...

... more.

But we're not going to get into that. A few updates instead.

1. I took Iyyar to the allergist today and the test for milk allergy was negative. She (allergist) told me that it is possible that it is another kind of sensitivity that is not a true allergy, and recommended keeping him off dairy anyway since he's been doing so much better without it. I was going to do that anyway, of course, even though Iyyar is Not Pleased about the sudden lack of cheese in his diet. Vegan not-cheese is not doing it for him, and I can't say I blame him. I can't blame him for getting mad about seeing Barak and Avtalyon get the real stuff, either. But I simply can't take dairy out of Barak's diet. He's such a picky eater that if I stop giving him dairy there'll be nothing left to give him but wheat, cucumbers, and fruit. I think it'll be easier after next week, when school is back in session; that way I can give Barak and the baby dairy without Iyyar looking on and feeling deprived.

2. I got a new laptop at work. It's pretty shpitzy. I haven't really played with it yet but will do so as soon as I get my desk excavated.

3. I lost weight this month. I have no idea how I managed this, but I'm not complaining. I am back to X + 11, for those keeping score at home.

4. All I want to do is spin and knit. I know, not really an update. But worth mentioning.

5. Mr. Fixit came yesterday to put light fixtures in the two closets that didn't have them, in the name of moth deterrence. I've done what I can with laundering and freezing; I also ordered moth traps, which don't actually kill the moths but lets you know where you've got them. In the meantime, I've been fixing a lot of holes.

6. There is no number six.

7. I just got a pretty impressive care package today from a friend in Boston. This may sabotage #3, but that's okay.

8. I am enjoying the kids' winter break much more than they are. I love sleeping that extra half an hour, and I really really love not having to haul out the double stroller in all this ice.

9. I've gone to bed before midnight every night so far this week. This may not sound like much, but it's pretty unusual around here, and I'm hoping to keep it up.

10. There's no number ten, either. Off to clean.

Sunday, January 18, 2009

And even more!

On Shabbos, Avtalyon started feeling a little warm. Then he felt warmer. Then he felt really, really hot, and that was when I decided to check his diaper and realized that it had stayed totally dry for over 5 hours, and then I checked his temperature with a fancy infrared thermometer (after Shabbos) and it came up at everything from 101.7 to 105.1 and then 106.2. So much for fancy infrared thermometer. Motrin, then Tylenol three hours later, and a lot of screaming. B"H he's better today. I think it's teething. He wanted to nurse, but couldn't at all, and was pulling at his ears a bit. Don't tell me teething doesn't cause fever--I'll nod politely but know you're wrong.

This afternoon Iyyar very deliberately sneaked a good long swig from Barak's cup of milk, which I saw only after it was too late. Tonight I went to Target with a friend to pick up, among other things, more baby Tylenol; when I came home, Iyyar had thrown up, Avtalyon was screaming, and Barak was coming out of bed whining that nobody was paying ANY ATTENTION TO HIM AT ALL! I snapped at Barak, saying something I immediately regretted, and managed to get everyone else to sleep pretty easily. Then I spent a little time making it up with Barak and explaining why I'd been angry; he didn't seem to have hurt feelings and went to sleep happily with Middos Machine, the pink CD (Episode 3, in which Shnooky gets into Dr. Middos's Time Machine, with all the consequences you would expect).

It really is looking like a dairy allergy. I have an appointment for Iyyar with a pediatric GI specialist at the local children's hospital a week from Tuesday; I'm going to see if I can get him in with the allergist at our pediatric practice too. There wasn't much of a wait the last time we took him (right before Avtalyon was born--remember the hives?) and the more information I can bring to the GI doctor, the better.

Thursday, January 15, 2009


1. More moth holes. Many more. I am in the middle of washing all my sweaters and taking them outside to freeze. But the stash! Do I take out the entire stash? There is so much stash. I have hundreds of pounds of wool in the house. I can't deal.

2. More Iyyar woes. I had to take him to the dentist today because he was crying that his teeth hurt. The dentist saw nothing--$95 and $48 of babysitting later. He and Avtalyon are also just getting over major diarrhea, with attendant major diaper rashes.

3. More work stress. The assistant to my main client is mad at me because I screwed up. I didn't get everything done this week I should have done (because of sick kids) and I sent the wrong speech, plus one speech with the wrong tag. She is under a lot of stress herself and reamed me out in front of people. I don't deal well with things like that.

4. We're going away for Shabbos. I have to pack, and before I can pack, I have to iron a bunch of shirts.

5. I can't do that because I'm supposed to be writing speeches.

6. I'm not writing speeches because I'm dealing with moths.

7. My house is a trashed wreck. It was totally clean on Tuesday night. I was caught up on laundry then, too.

Off to dump a lot of wool into trash bags.

Tuesday, January 13, 2009


I am feeling really really really stressed out right now, and I thought it might be helpful to sit down and list the reasons why. Just, you know, to get a handle on it.

1. Barak and the biting business. I talked to the early childhood director today and she did not seem terribly worked up but she said that his teacher will be calling me tonight.

2. I found a great big m*th hole smack front and center on Barak's dragon vest. The dragon vest he last wore last week. Those are some pretty brazen moths. This means I have to go wash all my sweaters (we are talking high double digits here, household-wide) and should probably go inspect all my yarn, too. Not a minor undertaking, especially in winter.

3. Speaking of winter, it is really, really cold here. We are all stir-crazy. The snowplows do not worry about pedestrians, so leave snowbanks that are between knee- and thigh-high at the sides of the roads. For me to get over with my double stroller. If the stroller sinks into the bank, I'm sunk, and have to turn around and haul the thing out from the front--you know, on the side of the road, which is slippery and has cars on it. Gah.

4. Work. Work is busy. Work is stressful. There is a lot of it, which is good, but my place of employment is in financial trouble (show me one that isn't!) and we are having a meeting on Thursday to discuss our new austerity measures. I have been told that we are not at the layoffs stage. Which implies that there might be one later, doesn't it.

5. Iyyar's tummy. Today was fine, after a lot of diarrhea last night and this morning. I really hope it is just the dairy. Could one cookie's worth of butter (two cookies made with half butter, half margarine) have done that? Or is it something else? Should I be following up on that referral to the pediatric GI specialist at the children's hospital, with all the un-fun testing that that will entail? Or should I wait and see?

6. An old friend wrote me today and asked if she could give my email to a relative I have not heard from in several years--well, I haven't heard from any of my relatives in years. It's possible that this is just a friendly gesture. It's also possible that something is up.

7. Oh, and the war. Yes. That. And the threats against the Jewish schools in town. One of which is my son's.

8. I should not have checked the estimated value of our apartment right now. It was a bad idea. Because now I know that if we were to sell it now to, say, make aliyah, we'd probably get just enough to cover what's left on our mortgage. Which is $63,000 less than what we paid for our apartment 3 1/2 years ago. I think the best move right now is to refinance in a week or two, on the assumption that rates are as low as they will ever be, to get the lowest monthly payment possible, and then try to rent it out.

9. Money, generally. We are barely saving anything, despite what seems to me like a good income for both of us. It just goes... in mortgage, utilities, babysitting, tuition, playgroup, clothes (they keep growing! and destroying their pants!) and food. I go through all of our bills and credit card charges every month and this past month the only thing that I could have reasonably cut was $56.00 on wool. This month we bought plane tickets to Edmonton to visit my SIL at Pesach. That was a lot, but realistically not much more than we would have spent making Pesach here. It meant taking money out of savings to get to the end of the month. And this was supposed to be our last year to save. Next year, it's full tuition for Barak: almost $10,000 a year for kindergarten. I don't think we'll be eligible for scholarship for one, although we'll apply, of course.

10. That's really enough, isn't it? But one more thing. This afternoon I was taking pictures with the kids and letting them take pictures of me (with me holding the camera). That is never a flattering way to be photographed, but do I really have that many chins? And do I really look that... old and tired?


Off to write some speeches. And not get any spinning in. Maybe tomorrow?


Barak is driving me crazy.

Yesterday I got a phone call at noon from the director of early childhood education at his school. Barak had bitten another child and I needed to come pick him up, right away. I told her I couldn't--it was an hour until school ended and I couldn't make it there that fast on foot in all the snow with a double stroller. He came home in regular carpool, and spent the rest of the afternoon whining, complaining, doing things he wasn't supposed to do, and whining some more. He didn't want to use the bathroom. Wouldn't eat his dinner and campaigned loudly and obnoxiously for cereal instead. Didn't want to go to bed. Needed a different Middos Machine CD. Add to this that Iyyar had had a cookie made with butter on Sunday and was right back to square one with the tummy distress--so while Iyyar was writhing and wailing on the floor, howling that his tushy hurt and he needed to POOP, Barak was hollering even louder to make himself heard about NEEDING THE PINK MIDDOS MACHINE CD BECAUSE HE DIDN'T WANT THE GREEN ONE AND HE NEEDED IT A GOTCHION MUCH AND IF HE DIDN' T GET IT HE WAS JUST GOING TO SCREAM.

Good thing I am opposed to corporal punishment, isn't it?

We got through the day somehow and this morning was all the same. I need oatmeal. I need raisins. I NEED THEM! I NEED RAISINS! I know he is four but his total inability to see that I AM ALREADY IN THE PROCESS OF GETTING YOUR RAISINS or I CANNOT GET YOU RAISINS RIGHT NOW BECAUSE I AM NURSING THE BABY is a little hard to take. (Sound familiar, Zahava?) Before I had gotten him anything else he decided that in fact he wanted granola and yogurt. I got him granola and yogurt. He took one look and announced that THERE WASN'T ENOUGH GRANOLA IN HIS YOGURT. I told him he could eat it or not eat it but he had kvetched and therefore was not going to get what he had kvetched for (policy around here--ineffective at quelling the kvetching, but consistently applied in an undying hope that it'll work eventually). He sat down and started eating. Sloooowwwlly.

All this was going on while Iyyar, who had pooped out two days' worth of post-cookie poop over the course of the night, was getting de-pooped in the bathtub, while Avtalyon was proclaiming his righteous outrage from the highchair. Decibel level climbing, nerves frazzling.

And on the way to carpool: "Imma, there wasn't enough granola in my yogurt."


Uh-oh. I hear Iyyar crying for me. I kept him home from school today because by the time he got out of the bathtub it was already time to take Barak to carpool; if I'd come back to get him and taken him to school I would have lost half an hour of work time. Easier to keep him home with Asnat and Avtalyon. He's been fine tummy-wise for more than a week, but on Sunday he had two of the cookies I made for Sunday night, which had butter in them--and then started crying a couple of hours later that he needed to poop and his tummy hurt. I really want to think that this is not mere coincidence and dairy is the culprit, because it's something that's relatively easy to manage. So why am I hearing him crying now?


Oh, and did I mention that when I was packing Barak's bag this morning, it was full of toys he'd taken home from school? "Did your morah know that you took those?" "No." "Were you allowed to take those or not allowed?" "Not."

He's four. I know he's four. And much of the time he is sweet and charming. He is usually obedient and always happy to run get me a rag or a box of wipes when I need them. He plays nicely with his brothers 90% of the time. He gives the baby kisses. He likes school. He's polite. He draws pictures for the lady at work who doesn't have anyone to draw her pictures. He is getting a huge kick out of learning the alphabet and reading the signs that say OPEN on the stores. He knows STOP and ONE WAY too. On Sunday he took three polite bites of a vegetable omelet without spitting anything out. True, he took cookies he wasn't supposed to take on Sunday--but he told me the truth right away.

He's a good boy. He really is. He's just driving me slowly insane.

Thursday, January 08, 2009

Another Iyyarism

Earlier this week, at bedtime, as I was rooting around in Iyyar's drawer for pajamas:

"Iyyar, which pajamas do you want? Do you want the doggie pajamas?" (It's actually a reindeer--pajamas purchased on post-Christmas sale at LL Bean--but he thinks it's a doggie and I haven't corrected him.)

"Not doddie. Dat one moose!"

"It's a moose? I thought it was a doggie."

[with conviction and very great earnestness] "Not! Is moose! Not doddie!"

"Oh, okay. Do you want the moose pajamas then?"


"Which ones do you want?"

"Want it dis one! Want it truck jajamas!"

"Truck pajamas? Okay, you want truck pajamas. Oh wait. Iyyar, we don't have the top of those. They're in the wash. Do you want your doobie [bear] pajamas? Do you want to match Avtalyon?"

[Iyyar surveys his pajama options, then inspects Avtalyon, who is already in doobie jajamas.]

"Yeah! Match!"

"Okay, you're going to match!"

"Match it baby jajamas! Match it Talyon jajamas!"

"Right, you're going to match Avtalyon's pajamas!"

Eyebrows two inches above normal position, eyes wide: "Also Barak have jajamas!"

"Right, Barak has pajamas too."

"Abba not have jajamas."

"Yeah, he does. You just never see them because he's up before you ."

"Abba has jajamas?"

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure."

"Oh." Iyyar considers this. Then, shaking head regretfully, palms pointing skyward,"Not Imma has jajamas."

That's true, actually. My nighttime nursing wardrobe is pretty... eclectic. "No, Imma doesn't have pajamas."

Iyyar looks at me sympathetically. "Not have."

They're going to be called jajamas around here for a while, I think.

In other news, the no-dairy seems to have worked--that plus warm baths plus lots of A & D. He last had dairy last Thursday. Friday was the usual, Saturday morning was awful. Saturday afternoon he started with diarrhea that lasted through Sunday afternoon. Monday was maybe half an hour of crying in the morning, followed by much much more poop. Monday night, as I was putting on his jajamas, I suddenly noticed that his potbelly had vanished. How awful must that have felt? Tuesday night he was back to his sweet troublemaking self; yesterday and today has been normal poopage without fanfare. (Well, normal except that it smells incredibly foul. Can't blame him for that, though, given what I've been feeding him in the roughage and fiber department.) It's so nice to have my happy little boy back.


Iyyar is sound asleep and snoring.

In a big-boy bed.

Where did my little baby go?

Wednesday, January 07, 2009


Maybe it's because he hasn't been feeling well, and I appreciate it more when he's being his usual self, but Iyyar has been ridiculously cute lately. He's had a big jump in his expressive language and every five minutes comes out with something that I know I should write down or blog or remember to tell Abba when he gets home. And later? I can't remember it at all.

So I'll open a window in blogger and see what I can remember.

1. I've been teaching Barak his ABC's, which he won't be learning in school till the year after next (Hebrew first, then English). Barak is okay with this but not wildly into it. His visual memory is not the greatest--he still has a hard time with a number of Hebrew letters and usually needs hints to differentiate gimel from nun, hay from chet, etc. Iyyar, on the other hand, can be told a letter once and, if he's in the mood, remember it forever. Last week Barak made an A page for his ABC book. I gave Iyyar some coloring to do at the same time but did not mention A to him specifically, even though obviously he was in the room at the same time. Next time the box of Weetabox comes out: "Imma! Wook Imma! Wook! Issa A"!

Hey, he's right. "That is an A! Good job!" Then,

"Imma! Wook Imma! Wook! Issa oder one A! Iss two A's!" What do you know. It is!

I showed him B and he spent some time picking out B's. I showed him S yesterday and he already knows C from C is for Cookie. Sometimes he mixes them up, showing me an S and saying A, but he usually gets them right.

2. The last three days have been better poop-wise. (Hmm, blogger seems to consider "poop-wise" a valid English word. There must be a lot of mothers of small children on blogger--ya think?) Yesterday morning he spent about half an hour crying and saying he needed to poop, but then he spent the rest of the afternoon pooping with little fanfare. I can't imagine he's still constipated with everything that's been coming out. I took the suggestion of Miriam and Dr. Google and stopped giving him cow's milk as of last Thursday, which seems to be helping.

Yesterday I had a serious talk with Barak about why we can't give Iyyar milk or things with milk, how they make him sick, etc. He told me about kids at school who are allergic to bananas and so on and seemed to get it. Which is why I was both surprised and un-thrilled to find him and Iyyar hiding under the kitchen table, with Barak spoon-feeding yogurt from a full quart container into Iyyar's mouth. I heard them giggling under there but they didn't seem to be getting into any trouble--then I saw what they were doing. I really gave it to Barak, who knew very well what he was doing--I just hope it doesn't put us back at square one.

3. I was going to talk about cute Iyyarisms, right? Okay, so, he still says "od" in Hebrew when he means "another one." So if he sees a second letter A, sometimes it's "od A!" If he sees more than one of something and wants to count, it's always "two!"

4. On the subject of numbers, this isn't an Iyyarism but it is worth noting. Barak likes numbers, the bigger, the better. "Million" and "billion" and even "trillion" and "googleplex" didn't do it for him, so he came up with "sillion" and "gotchion." As in, "I love cinnamon cereal! I love it a hundred thousand gotchion ten much! I just want to eat it the whole day!" A gotchion, apparently, is more than a sillion, so that's really a lot.

5. Iyyar is into Emese lately. He likes to follow her into our room and peek under the bed to check that she's there. All cats are Emese, including the Lego cat, which is, to be fair, small, round and gray.

6. Avtalyon is getting three upper teeth at the same time. The top front left tooth is through as well as the one to the left of that, which gives him an oddly lopsided appearance; the top front right tooth is almost through. This means that he is slightly cranky (which, for the record, would have equaled an incredibly calm and even-keeled day for either Barak or Iyyar at that age) and wants to chew on everything, including Grover's nose.

Iyyar has a Grover doll--I'm pretty sure I've mentioned this--who is now his best friend. He takes Grover just about everywhere and if he does not have Grover in his crib he will wake up and call me politely to find him. Right now, Avtalyon wants nothing more than to grab Grover and shove that big pink nose right in his mouth. There are few that Iyyar wants less. "No! My Grover! No baby! No Talyon! Not your Grover!" I'm going to have to find Avtalyon a similarly appealing Elmo or something to prevent escalation of hostilities.

7. Iyyar is picking up a few of Barak's less great habits, like the urgent screaming for whatever minor desire he might have at the moment. I'm not sure why he thinks this is a good idea, since it never gets Barak anywhere, but I guess it is part of the little brother territory. So sometimes I'll here Iyyar, in his little two-year-old voice, bellow, "Imma! Needa JUICE! NEEDA! JUICE! RIGHT! NOW!" with accompanying foot-stamps. What is very funny about this is that when he does this, he is not actually after juice. He knows quite well that he will not get juice by doing this. He just thinks it's fun. So sometimes, I'll hear him hollering in the living room, throwing a tantrum for juice--without ever bothering to come let me know about it.

8. Lately, Iyyar has taken to imitating a fire truck siren. His idea of a firetruck siren, however, is a one-second earsplitting shriek right at the upper ranges of human hearing, before you get into the frequencies of, say, dog whistles. "Imma! Fire truck do whooop!" "Actually, I think it makes a sound more like this: woooOOOOOoooooOOOO." "No. Firetruck do whoop!" At this point I agree with him, just because my ears hurt and I don't want him to do it again.

9. Sometime last week Iyyar woke up at 2 am in so much pain that, in desperation, I brought him into my office to show him Grover videos on YouTube just to distract him. It worked somewhat--he was interested in Grover even though he was doubled over and crying--and so it's not that I regret that exactly. The trouble now, of course, is that he knows that Grover is inside my computer. He knows about Grover and the soup, and Grover and the big and little hamburgers, and Grover in the baftub, and Grover singing about around, over, under, and through. "Want see Grover! Want see Grover 'nair! Want go office, Grover!" (feet stomp) Sometimes I let him see one or two, but when I've got all three of them back here it gets pretty perilous. This room is just not set up for free-ranging small children.

10. There has to be a #10, right? Ummm... oh yes. Iyyar and Avtalyon. When Iyyar and Avtalyon are together without Barak around, it is very very cute. Not always, because sometimes there are the dread Grover Wars, and sometimes Iyyar wants nothing so much as to take every toy Avtalyon touches and put it on the highest shelf he can reach--but sometimes, sometimes it is very cute. Sometimes, in fact, Iyyar is downright solicitous of Avtalyon. He shows him how to do things. "Wook, baby! Wook, Talion! Openit--no! Not like that. Not like that, baby. Wook! Dis! Dis way!"

And Iyyar and Avtalyon have something else in common, too, besides the shared love for Grover. They both sing the happy food song.

Tuesday, January 06, 2009

The more things change...

The more they stay the same.

Hat tip to Racheli.

A vagany mellett kerjuk vigyazzanak

I can't tell you how nostalgic this makes me. I used to take that train every Sunday morning at 5:23 am. The music doesn't really do it for me though--it should really be Sipos F. Tamas or something. Oh, oh my gosh, this.

Monday, January 05, 2009

Everybody's a critic

Last Friday Ada came over to help out, since Asnat was out of town and I had to take Iyyar for the GI and then, theoretically, work, although that part never did happen. As she was leaving I noticed her wrapping a polyester fleece scarf around her neck. With what was probably barely concealed disapproval, I asked her if that was warm. She said it wasn't and she'd been looking for a better (read: wool) scarf. I don't actually like knitting scarves that much--they're boring as anything--but this situation simply could not be allowed. "I'll make you one," I said. "What do you want?" We established that the scarf should be pink, that it did not have to be especially soft, and that wide was good.

I thought about spinning something, then decided in the name of speed to, um, make a directional scarf in Silk Garden Sock. (Yeah. Speed. In sock yarn. I know, I know.) I cast on this morning and by midafternoon sometime was into the first short-row section. Then Iyyar came over and inquired as to what I was doing. The conversation went something like this:

"What dat?"

"That's for Ada."

"Dat socks?"

"No, that's a scarf."


"Yep, scarf."

"Not garf. Sock."

"No, it's a scarf."

"No gike it."

"You don't have to like it."

Pause during which Iyyar wrinkles nose in expression of total disgust. Then, shaking head disapprovingly,

"I gink Urda no gike it. Ewww."

The scarf is sitting on a shelf until Ada is here next. I'm not making an entire scarf out of sock yarn if it's going to be ewww.

Saturday, January 03, 2009

Hurt me

Friday's GI series went fine. Iyyar did not enjoy himself but drank the stuff he was supposed to drink and generally cooperated as much as could be expected; the radiologist said everything looked normal. Friday night he (Iyyar, not radiologist) pooped with minimal crying and hopes were raised. Today, though--two straight awful hours of screaming and crying and writhing and stomping his feet, pulling each knee up to his tummy in turn, all while pleading and wailing. "Hurt me! Hurt me tushy! Poopy! Owww..." I tell him he needs to poop and then he'll feel better. "I can't..."

I don't know. One second he's in agony and the next something catches his interest, then you can see on his face when something hurts again. It seems like it's abdominal cramping from his behavior. He isn't really that constipated though, in regards to how much is in there--not so much poop showed up on the scan and he's been going at least somewhat almost every day. So why does it hurt so much? I don't know. We'll see how tomorrow goes--one more day on Miralax--and then I'll call the doctor on Monday to see what's next.