Rachel broke the Drew/Lisa record for a cast-less life.
On Saturday morning she complained that her left knee hurt, but as is usual with me (and the way I was brought up), I minimized her distress. We didn't even give her any Tylenol. She and Drew went to tumbling class and swimming and the farmer's market while I stayed home and did some freelance writing. When they got back Drew said she'd had trouble with tumbling but it didn't register with me; she went down for a nap and I went for a walk with my good friend Julie.
When we got back Rachel was curled against Drew's shoulder, holding her stuffed puppy Spot and looking sad. He said they'd gone to the playground nearby and she couldn't play because her knee was still bothering her. More Tylenol, dinner and then Drew and I left her with my tenant Craig and his girlfriend, Brenna, who had generously offered to babysit Rachel for free while we had a night to ourselves. Before we left I told Rachel we would have a playdate with her friend Lila at the "playplace," which is a great indoor play park that just opened in the Pearl District. "I think in the morning my knee will be better," she said.
Well, it wasn't. Rachel got upset when I told her to walk from the toilet to the toilet-paper dispenser (two steps) and I winced when I saw her knee give out. ("I'm telling Daddy that you made me walk," she said accusingly; Drew has been carrying her everywhere since Saturday). We canceled the playdate and Drew took Rachel to the urgent care clinic while I worked at home. They got back about 45 minutes ago. Bottom line: The doctors took X-rays but couldn't find anything wrong. They told Drew that in kids there is a lot of undeveloped "stuff" around their knees, like soft tissue or ligaments, that can get messed up. (There was no swelling or bruising around the knee). So they put her in a cast that largely immobilizes her leg. We can't get it wet, so that means sponge baths for the next few days. We'll bring her back on Wednesday and hopefully the cast will get cut off and she'll be feeling better. Drew will head to Seattle tomorrow unless daycare won't take her; then we'll have to switch off which tays to take off.
"I can't tell you how impressed I was that Rachel did what the doctors said," Drew said. "When she lay down on the X-ray table, she was really still." Drew said she got to see the X-ray photos of her knee ("that's my KNEE!" she said delightedly) and was otherwise remarkably cheerful. (It helped that we're reading the Madeline books and Drew told Rachel that she was like Madeline, who had to go to the doctor for her appendix).
When they got home Rachel was hungry so we hovered over her with challah and chicken. She went down quite willingly for a nap and after Drew got out of her bedroom he had this to say:
"Other kids could use this as an opportunity to really freak out; 'I've got this big thing on my leg, I don't get to go out and play,' but she's remarkably cooperative about it all," he noted before heading to the grocery store.
It's her mommy who's freaking out. I hate the thought of my baby in a cast. I know she'll get well, and everything will be fine, and her great attitude helps, but something in me just wants to cry.
Sunday, June 26, 2011
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Magic!
Drew took Rachel to Grant Park tonight. It has statues of Ramona and Henry Higgins and Ribsy, the iconic children's characters in the "Ramona" books by Beverly Cleary who lived in our neighborhood when she was a girl.
There were kids playing the foutnains and Rachel wanted to feel the water. It was cold. Drew told her that cold water will feel good on a hot day and she'll be able to take off her shoes and shorts and run through the water.
She looked down at hands and said, "My hands are wet! I need a napkin!"
Drew replied, "I think, sweetie, they'll dry off on their own pretty quickly."
Rachel whined, "NO! I need a napkin!"
Drew said again, "No, sweetie, I'm pretty sure they're gonna dry off pretty quickly."
Then Rachel looked down at her hands and said in surprise, "Oh! They're dry!"
Drew said, "Yes! As if by magic!"
Whereupon Rachel started singing, "Puff the magic dragon lived by the sea..."
There were kids playing the foutnains and Rachel wanted to feel the water. It was cold. Drew told her that cold water will feel good on a hot day and she'll be able to take off her shoes and shorts and run through the water.
She looked down at hands and said, "My hands are wet! I need a napkin!"
Drew replied, "I think, sweetie, they'll dry off on their own pretty quickly."
Rachel whined, "NO! I need a napkin!"
Drew said again, "No, sweetie, I'm pretty sure they're gonna dry off pretty quickly."
Then Rachel looked down at her hands and said in surprise, "Oh! They're dry!"
Drew said, "Yes! As if by magic!"
Whereupon Rachel started singing, "Puff the magic dragon lived by the sea..."
Newest worry item
As I've already noted, Rachel has taken to pitching fits in the morning when Drew and I drop her off at school. Today, at my suggestion, Drew asked her why she got so upset when Mommy or Daddy leave.
She replied, "I don't like a lot of kids. I like a little kids, but not a lot."
Drew asked, "Why don't you like a lot of kids?"
Rachel answered, "Because there's a lot of screaming and I don't like loud noises."
You can imagine how distressed this conversation made me. Drew went on to explain to Rachel that she'll have to deal with lots of loud kids in life and that she'll have to learn how to tune out the noise. And that even if the teachers don't rush up to her when she starts crying after we drop her off, they sill care about her.
I'm not mollified. Is this what we're leading our daughter into? Overcrowded classrooms with screaming, noisy children where very little learning gets done? Why does she have to live with that scenario? Why can't funding be adequate to hire more teachers and keep classrooms smaller? Why do we insist our kids get used to intolerable situations when, really, we should be fighting day and night to ensure the situation isn't intolerable in the first place?
She replied, "I don't like a lot of kids. I like a little kids, but not a lot."
Drew asked, "Why don't you like a lot of kids?"
Rachel answered, "Because there's a lot of screaming and I don't like loud noises."
You can imagine how distressed this conversation made me. Drew went on to explain to Rachel that she'll have to deal with lots of loud kids in life and that she'll have to learn how to tune out the noise. And that even if the teachers don't rush up to her when she starts crying after we drop her off, they sill care about her.
I'm not mollified. Is this what we're leading our daughter into? Overcrowded classrooms with screaming, noisy children where very little learning gets done? Why does she have to live with that scenario? Why can't funding be adequate to hire more teachers and keep classrooms smaller? Why do we insist our kids get used to intolerable situations when, really, we should be fighting day and night to ensure the situation isn't intolerable in the first place?
A post from Drew
As everyone knows, I'm the one who writes and maintains this blog, not Drew (Mr. Anti-Social Media and Proud of It.). But a sweete little interchange between Rachel and him last night so inspired him that he wrote it down on paper. So consider this blog entry a Drew contribution:
"Rachel and I were discussing how I'd have to go back up to Seattle next week. She asked why, and I said, 'for my job.' Just like she has a job at school, I have a job I have to work at.
After determining that I do in fact have to take the highway to get to Seattle (traffic engineering apparently being one of her budding interests), Rachel then said, 'When I'm a little bit bigger, can I come up with you to Seattle?'
'Oh, sweetie,' I replied. "I'd love it if you could, but what would you do all day while I worked?'
Rachel paused.
'I'd find a little bench or a couch, and sit on it, and watch you work.'"
"Rachel and I were discussing how I'd have to go back up to Seattle next week. She asked why, and I said, 'for my job.' Just like she has a job at school, I have a job I have to work at.
After determining that I do in fact have to take the highway to get to Seattle (traffic engineering apparently being one of her budding interests), Rachel then said, 'When I'm a little bit bigger, can I come up with you to Seattle?'
'Oh, sweetie,' I replied. "I'd love it if you could, but what would you do all day while I worked?'
Rachel paused.
'I'd find a little bench or a couch, and sit on it, and watch you work.'"
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
Roller-coaster ride
Remember I said that last night with Rachel was absolutely wonderful? Welll, I got paid back today. This morning sucked. Absolutely SUCKED. She was reluctant to wake up and finally whined, "I'm TIRED! I don't want to get UP!" (and I'd rather have a kid who doesn't want to get up instead of a kid who gets up at the crack of dawn and expects the whole household to follow suit), but I really needed to get to Salem by 10 a.m. I yelled at her a couple of times to hurry up and she cried and cried. "I can't WAIT until Daddy gets home tonight and he gets to deal with this tomorrow morning," I muttered. Whereupon Rachel sobbed, "I WANT DADDY!"
She was OK in the car with granola and orange juice (and beforehand I carried her into the kitchen and set her on the counter which seemed to calm her down) but once we arrived at school she threw a fit, crying and shrieking for me not to leave. (One thing that annoys me about her school is that the teachers don't comfort her as I leave. Today my strategy was to shake off her hands, put her backpack in her cubby and walk rapidly out of the room, hoping she wouldn't follow me. I could hear her screams down the hall).
When I picked her up, all was fine although she was a little whinier than usual tonight. I was probably more sensitive to it, too; I had a terrible stomach ache and nearly bent over double to suppress the pain. Pepto-Bismol helped a little but I ended up having to lie down on the couch. Rachel whined that she wanted to snuggle with me, then proceeded to find every way possible to lie or tumble or jump on my aching tummy.
Finally got up and made dinner at 7:15, which pretty much guaranteed we wouldn't take a walk, but I don't think I could have gotten through walking around the neighborhood even though it was a beautiful night. Toward the end of dinner I started feeling a lot better even though I ate the worst thing possible for a tummy ache -- leftover steak and a baked potato.
As my mood improved slightly, so did Rachel's.
"I really really really really really really really really love you, Mommy," she said.
"Well, I really really really reallly really really love YOU, Rachel!" I replied. "Isn't it great that we love each other so much?"
"Yeah!" she answered.
Of course, she then followed that up with:
"I miss Daddy I miss Daddy I miss Daddy I miss Daddy!"
She was OK in the car with granola and orange juice (and beforehand I carried her into the kitchen and set her on the counter which seemed to calm her down) but once we arrived at school she threw a fit, crying and shrieking for me not to leave. (One thing that annoys me about her school is that the teachers don't comfort her as I leave. Today my strategy was to shake off her hands, put her backpack in her cubby and walk rapidly out of the room, hoping she wouldn't follow me. I could hear her screams down the hall).
When I picked her up, all was fine although she was a little whinier than usual tonight. I was probably more sensitive to it, too; I had a terrible stomach ache and nearly bent over double to suppress the pain. Pepto-Bismol helped a little but I ended up having to lie down on the couch. Rachel whined that she wanted to snuggle with me, then proceeded to find every way possible to lie or tumble or jump on my aching tummy.
Finally got up and made dinner at 7:15, which pretty much guaranteed we wouldn't take a walk, but I don't think I could have gotten through walking around the neighborhood even though it was a beautiful night. Toward the end of dinner I started feeling a lot better even though I ate the worst thing possible for a tummy ache -- leftover steak and a baked potato.
As my mood improved slightly, so did Rachel's.
"I really really really really really really really really love you, Mommy," she said.
"Well, I really really really reallly really really love YOU, Rachel!" I replied. "Isn't it great that we love each other so much?"
"Yeah!" she answered.
Of course, she then followed that up with:
"I miss Daddy I miss Daddy I miss Daddy I miss Daddy!"
Monday, June 20, 2011
Rachel proves my point
Yesterday Drew and Rachel were upstairs watching old versions of "Sesame Street." Drew held Rachel on his lap. He told me proudly that Rachel had made the number 10 by putting the 1 and the 0 together.
"Wow, Rachel, you're really sharp!" I said. (I'm trying to consciously not tell her she's smart all the time).
"I'M not sharp!" she retorted. "I'M not a knife!"
Um, maybe it's time to teach her about metaphors and similes?
"Wow, Rachel, you're really sharp!" I said. (I'm trying to consciously not tell her she's smart all the time).
"I'M not sharp!" she retorted. "I'M not a knife!"
Um, maybe it's time to teach her about metaphors and similes?
Rachel won't stay little
Tonight as I was changing into my comfortable at-home clothes, I said to Rachel, who was being incredibly delightful (see previous post): "I don't want you to grow up. Can you please just stay little?"
"NO!" she exclaimed. "I need to open doors!"
"OK, you can open doors," I conceded. "But that's all."
"NO!" she replied. "I wanna be a GROWNUP!"
Oh, how I remember desperately wanting to be grownup when I was a kid. All that rushed through my head as I hugged Rachel from behind and said darkly, "being a grownup isn't all that great, kid."
"NO!" she exclaimed. "I need to open doors!"
"OK, you can open doors," I conceded. "But that's all."
"NO!" she replied. "I wanna be a GROWNUP!"
Oh, how I remember desperately wanting to be grownup when I was a kid. All that rushed through my head as I hugged Rachel from behind and said darkly, "being a grownup isn't all that great, kid."
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