I’ve run dry. Luckily, his smiles carry on.
There’s a feeling I get when I look to the west, and my spirit is crying for leaving.
it’s the first date I’ve known since Halloween #momlife
It’s a well known fact among the KT and A circles that sweet bean’s one and only less-than-wonderful attribute is a debilitating distaste for his car seat. Thus, I can count on one hand (with three fingers, to be precise) the number of times we’ve successfully ventured outside of a two-mile radius from our house as a lone mother-child dyad. Unsuccessful attempts include: multiple stops to comfort sweet bean, stretching a ten minute drive to forty-five, a bloody eye from five consecutive minutes of screaming while I drove down our street and attempted to find parking, a red light or four run as I was either too distracted or too frazzled to notice. Eventually I gave up, and since then our ventures have been foot-bound.
I have no cause or desire to complain. A is generally flexible enough that, when we absolutely must travel further than our legs can take us in a reasonable spam of time, he is our chauffeur. But he was slammed with work; I was bleeding from the boob so a doctor’s appointment couldn’t wait for a lull in his schedule. Thus, we prepared to be a woman and child of independent means.
We succeeded brilliantly.
The Birthcare Center is at one end of my favorite street in Virginia, so we made our appointment just one stop in an epic trip of wandering and wondering. Our first destination was Trader Joe’s. We strolled the aisles, tossing in our cart whatever caught our whimsy. Bean chose a bunch of ranunculus’s to give to A, as a memento of our adventures. He also promptly put one of the plumper blooms in his mouth. I allowed it, until I remembered that some flowers are poisonous but not exactly which ones. He was tuffed, and his grumps spilled over on the three minute ride to our appointment, but those were the only tears of the day.
The appointment was rather grand: it seems I don’t have those nasty, indomitable yeast, but rather a severe case of eczema. I couldn’t be more thrilled. They set me up with some cream and the pain is done-zo.
So, we set off down the street and bought A a card and a cupcake to go with his flowers, we bought boomer a ball to let her know we missed her very much and wish she could have joined us for she is a very skilled at adventures, and we explored the knitting store but didn’t buy anything for ourselves for the day was a gift enough. On our way back to the car, the sky decided to give us a present even though we really didn’t want anything and it snowed bug beautiful flakes and we couldn’t help but let our laughter bubble forth.
We made our way home, Christmas carols upon our lips, and not a single tear shed.
The croup nights caught up to me, climbed atop my shoulders with about 500 pounds to each of then, and commanded me to entertain a smiley (thank God) baby on a rainy day. Sadly I haven’t been training much and wasn’t prepared for this unexpected challenge. There goes my honorary Boy Scout status.
Poor bean suffered an utterly boring momma today. I did nothing much but look at him and carry him. I crooned some songs but my heart wasn’t in it. Even my automatic everything’s-alright-weapon is giving out. All signs point to thrush: every time the bean latches, and for the duration of his meal, and for a little bit afterward, it feels like someone is rubbing me with fiberglass. Hopefully the midwives will help and this won’t go on for too long. Also hopefully bean isn’t feeling any pain on his end.
And so, good night.
It’s the fifth day and croup still haunts us. Today the only person who could make bean smile was his poppa. A is the king of laughter. I got to be his snuggle bug for nearly 24 hours though. The sweet boy is so exhausted, he is loathe to be put down or left alone. Boom was a huge help, as only big sisters can be. All in all a good day, a very good day indeed.
Saturday night, croup returned, and it hung around for Sunday, growing worse and worse until poor bean was turning, quite literally, blue. His wee body working hard for each breath, we sped to the emergency room, afraid of what the night would bring.
They gave him two hospital bracelets and oxygen. My parents came, bringing with them smiles and sustenance. Bean was shot with a steroid in his little thigh. His breathing calmed and he fell asleep, and five hours later we headed home with strict instructions to return if it should get worse.
So ends a frightening night.
In Spain, it stays mainly in the plain, but the rain in Virginia fell unabashedly in the city streets. But it did not deter us from our swashbuckling plans, and we stomped across the cobblestones from shop to shop paying no mind to the cold wet drops that sang “stay home you silly muggles.”
After capitalizing on my dearly paid for lifetime guarantee of naked-mole-rat-hairlessness, purchased in my flusher days, we sauntered to the cupcake shop and commandeered a Guinness-flavored treat for A. Then we dashed to the yet-unexplored storefront of Red Barn Mercantile. We wandered and marveled; I made my grown up Christmas list which included a number of fine mixers, and we bought bean his made-in-America Fourth-Day-of-Christmas present. Finally, through the puddles to the yarn store we stomped. I marveled and reveled but did not buy; it is enough to gaze at the colors and finger the fibers. At this point bean was napping and the rain was pouring so we made our way back home to the pup.