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Sunday, August 28, 2011
The Baba Fairy (late May, early June 2011)
My mild suggestions that Nora might be getting too old for a baby bottle went unheeded. Rich suggested we just get rid of them and go cold turkey. Since she only used a bottle first thing in the morning and last thing before bed, I didn't feel like they were doing her any real harm, but since she was using regular cups the rest of the time, it was clear that it was time to move on.
Luckily, the Baba Fairy came along and solved the problem for us.
I casually broached the subject of the Baba Fairy one day-- how the Baba Fairy leaves really great presents for kids who give her their babas, and then the BF gives those babas to kids who don't have any. But when I asked her whether she was ready to give the Baba Fairy her babas, she replied definitively that she was not.
So Rich and I brought up the Baba Fairy here and there for a week or two, and one day on a walk, Nora brought her up herself. "The Baba Fairy is going to bring me a present," she said. "Yes!" I replied. "Should we wrap up your babas for her when we get home?" "Yup." And that was it.
So we went home, found a box and some tissue paper, and made a nice presentation for the BF to find.
And off to nap we went. When she (ok, we) woke up, this pink trike was waiting for her on the front steps.
She only asked for a baba one more time after that. She cried, and I cried a little bit too, thinking about how getting older means getting new privileges and abilities, but it also means giving things up that you never get back. I'm getting pretty schmaltzy in my old age.
Luckily, the Baba Fairy came along and solved the problem for us.
I casually broached the subject of the Baba Fairy one day-- how the Baba Fairy leaves really great presents for kids who give her their babas, and then the BF gives those babas to kids who don't have any. But when I asked her whether she was ready to give the Baba Fairy her babas, she replied definitively that she was not.
So Rich and I brought up the Baba Fairy here and there for a week or two, and one day on a walk, Nora brought her up herself. "The Baba Fairy is going to bring me a present," she said. "Yes!" I replied. "Should we wrap up your babas for her when we get home?" "Yup." And that was it.
So we went home, found a box and some tissue paper, and made a nice presentation for the BF to find.
And off to nap we went. When she (ok, we) woke up, this pink trike was waiting for her on the front steps.
She only asked for a baba one more time after that. She cried, and I cried a little bit too, thinking about how getting older means getting new privileges and abilities, but it also means giving things up that you never get back. I'm getting pretty schmaltzy in my old age.
Saturday, August 27, 2011
Easter 2011
When my sister and I were little, the Easter Bunny used to leave us written clues that we had to figure out in order to find our Easter baskets. This year, the Easter Bunny introduced Nora to the idea of following clues. But since she can't read yet, he/she drew pictures of places in our house, each clue leading to the next one until she discovered her Easter basket inside her Dora the Explorer play house.
Easter was a big success. How could a candy free-for-all not be a big success?
Easter was a big success. How could a candy free-for-all not be a big success?
The bone marrow test I've been avoiding writing about
One of the things that put a damper on my blogging was not wanting to write about Nora's bone marrow test, even though everything turned out fine. So, let me write about it so that I can move on to more fun things.
A problem with Nora's condition is that it's not easy to positively diagnose; it's more of a process of elimination that has led the doctors to assume she had ITP. But her hematologist had mentioned that if the condition lasted for over a year, we should consider doing a bone marrow test as a more definitive diagnosis; they could check to make sure her platelets were being produced normally, and make sure there wasn't something more insidious going on.
I had resisted the idea of a bone marrow test because it requires general anaesthesia, and because I guess I didn't even want to consider the possibility that it could reveal something really bad. But the hematologist made a deal with me: If Nora was still dealing with low platelet levels by the end of April, we would do the bone marrow test.
April came to a close without her body cooperating, so we took her to the hospital very early one morning-- we had to be there at 6:30 am because that's when they do this particular procedure, for whatever reason. As it turned out, getting Nora out the door by 6 am was the most traumatic part of the process.
We got there and Prince William was getting married to Kate Middleton, so we watched that over the shoulders of some nurses, and then the anaesthesiologist came in to talk to us. "I'll keep her safe," she said, and that was the first time I cried that morning. We signed lots of papers, and then it was time to go across the hall and get it over with. Nora already had her IV in (no problem; IVs are old hat), so they administered the anaesthesia while I held her and Rich and I sang "Blackbird." (The nurses thought we were cool for not singing some Barney song, apparently.) She suddenly became very heavy in my arms, and she was out. I laid her gently down on the white sheet, and as we left the room I began to cry in earnest.
The procedure seemed to take forever, but in fact it only took about ten minutes. They finally called us back into the room after Nora had been wheeled over to the recovery area. The bone marrow test went fine, and after about 15 more minutes she woke up. After about two minutes of grogginess, she was back to maximum Nora and scarfed down a bagel, yogurt and a banana. And that was it.
The hematologist called me later that afternoon to say that preliminary results looked consistent with ITP. A few days and phone calls from me later, we heard that the tests did indeed confirm ITP. So, that's that. As scary as the ITP was originally, and as much of an inconvenience as it can be at times, we feel very, very lucky that it wasn't something much worse. So. It's late August as I write this, and my brave girl still has a little pinprick pink spot on her lower back, reminding us how lucky we are.
A problem with Nora's condition is that it's not easy to positively diagnose; it's more of a process of elimination that has led the doctors to assume she had ITP. But her hematologist had mentioned that if the condition lasted for over a year, we should consider doing a bone marrow test as a more definitive diagnosis; they could check to make sure her platelets were being produced normally, and make sure there wasn't something more insidious going on.
I had resisted the idea of a bone marrow test because it requires general anaesthesia, and because I guess I didn't even want to consider the possibility that it could reveal something really bad. But the hematologist made a deal with me: If Nora was still dealing with low platelet levels by the end of April, we would do the bone marrow test.
April came to a close without her body cooperating, so we took her to the hospital very early one morning-- we had to be there at 6:30 am because that's when they do this particular procedure, for whatever reason. As it turned out, getting Nora out the door by 6 am was the most traumatic part of the process.
We got there and Prince William was getting married to Kate Middleton, so we watched that over the shoulders of some nurses, and then the anaesthesiologist came in to talk to us. "I'll keep her safe," she said, and that was the first time I cried that morning. We signed lots of papers, and then it was time to go across the hall and get it over with. Nora already had her IV in (no problem; IVs are old hat), so they administered the anaesthesia while I held her and Rich and I sang "Blackbird." (The nurses thought we were cool for not singing some Barney song, apparently.) She suddenly became very heavy in my arms, and she was out. I laid her gently down on the white sheet, and as we left the room I began to cry in earnest.
The procedure seemed to take forever, but in fact it only took about ten minutes. They finally called us back into the room after Nora had been wheeled over to the recovery area. The bone marrow test went fine, and after about 15 more minutes she woke up. After about two minutes of grogginess, she was back to maximum Nora and scarfed down a bagel, yogurt and a banana. And that was it.
The hematologist called me later that afternoon to say that preliminary results looked consistent with ITP. A few days and phone calls from me later, we heard that the tests did indeed confirm ITP. So, that's that. As scary as the ITP was originally, and as much of an inconvenience as it can be at times, we feel very, very lucky that it wasn't something much worse. So. It's late August as I write this, and my brave girl still has a little pinprick pink spot on her lower back, reminding us how lucky we are.
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
Perfunctory Apology and Butterfly Show Photos
Oh dear. I've gotten quite behind on my blogging. I blame technology; now that I've become accustomed to checking emails and Facebook on my itouch (a hand-me-down from Rich after he got his iphone), booting up the laptop seems like a burden. Technology is making it so easy for me to be lazy.
When I was very little, I kept a diary. Almost every entry (of which there were not many) begins with a profuse apology for not having written earlier. I came to see my diary as a real nag and stopped writing altogether. So I'm not going to fill this blog with apologies-- I'll just do my best to catch up. There's lots of adventure and adorable pictures ahead in the April - June postings, as well as a scary hospital visit to relay. The one good thing about my itouch (ok, one of the many good things-- I love the $*%& thing) is that I've kept short notes about events I want to be sure and cover. I'll start with a visit to the Butterfly Show, April 23.
Oh, and right in the exit from the Butterfly Show there was this weird toddler rave that Nora could not get enough of. I kept trying to get her to leave, and she was all, Dude, go on home. I'll just call a cab.
When I was very little, I kept a diary. Almost every entry (of which there were not many) begins with a profuse apology for not having written earlier. I came to see my diary as a real nag and stopped writing altogether. So I'm not going to fill this blog with apologies-- I'll just do my best to catch up. There's lots of adventure and adorable pictures ahead in the April - June postings, as well as a scary hospital visit to relay. The one good thing about my itouch (ok, one of the many good things-- I love the $*%& thing) is that I've kept short notes about events I want to be sure and cover. I'll start with a visit to the Butterfly Show, April 23.
Oh, and right in the exit from the Butterfly Show there was this weird toddler rave that Nora could not get enough of. I kept trying to get her to leave, and she was all, Dude, go on home. I'll just call a cab.
Sunday, April 3, 2011
Ballerina Birthday Party
Nora feeling very proud of her ballerina outfit before the party
Posing with one of her best friends, Olivia, who is adorable in her shy devotion to Nora
Enjoying some post-performance Skyline, just like the professional ballerinas doMonday, March 28, 2011
Eating ice cream, working some deals, and looking cute
We had a lovely Sunday afternoon ice cream break with Aunt Patsy and cousin Tyler yesterday. Nora hugged her double chocolate chip close and devoured every bite of the generous scoop; I don't think we'll ever need to take a DNA test to establish paternity on this one. 
And here she is at home wheeling and dealing on the phone with Itsy. Note the adorable jeans jacket; I bought it in the big kids section at Old Navy so that I wouldn't have to deal with any applique butterflies or flowers. A baby or toddler in a jeans jacket is on my list of the cutest things in the universe. 
And here she is at home wheeling and dealing on the phone with Itsy. Note the adorable jeans jacket; I bought it in the big kids section at Old Navy so that I wouldn't have to deal with any applique butterflies or flowers. A baby or toddler in a jeans jacket is on my list of the cutest things in the universe. 
Does she know something I don't?
Most nights, after I tuck Nora in and sing that night's songs (normally "Blackbird" and "Sweet Baby James," also known as "The Cowboy Song"), after we blow two-handed kisses to each other as I back out the door, as I'm closing the door and just before it clicks shut, Nora calls out, "Be careful."
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Stir a Spoon and DRINK IT.
Thank goodness Nora doesn't know any actual swear words; she'd cuss like a dockworker if she knew how.
The only word we've outlawed at our house (so far) is "stupid"; I'm sure there will be many more, but that's the first word we made the mistake of reacting to, so Nora latched onto it. We had to explain that it was a word that could make people feel bad. And then we noticed how often we say it ourselves.
Prohibition has made "stupid" an exotic and exhilarating word to contemplate. When she's in the mood for a thrill, she'll say "st" with a little half-smile on her face, and at a warning look from me, she'll boldly say "Stir a spoon and DRINK IT!" She made that expression up all by herself, but it certainly conveys the particular flip contempt that one looks for in a crude idiom.
The only word we've outlawed at our house (so far) is "stupid"; I'm sure there will be many more, but that's the first word we made the mistake of reacting to, so Nora latched onto it. We had to explain that it was a word that could make people feel bad. And then we noticed how often we say it ourselves.
Prohibition has made "stupid" an exotic and exhilarating word to contemplate. When she's in the mood for a thrill, she'll say "st" with a little half-smile on her face, and at a warning look from me, she'll boldly say "Stir a spoon and DRINK IT!" She made that expression up all by herself, but it certainly conveys the particular flip contempt that one looks for in a crude idiom.
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Sunday, February 13, 2011
Girls' Day Out
Nora and I had a nice morning at the Museum Center a week or two ago, followed by a lunch date at Skyline-- a typical combination, since a hot dog is pretty much the only bribe that can get her off the slide or away from the sandbox.
Waiting for the balls to drop out of the ceiling
Jam session
Making the dinosaurs kiss each other
On our way out, we discovered a ballerina.
My girl has graduated from hot dogs to coneys.
Stealing my crackers just for the thrill factor
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