Tailor-made Weekend January 19 - February 5, 2005 about quality time spent with our family -- in the E.R.

	February came; it became not only warm at the ocean, but sunny, too

Since middle of January our weather has been somewhat reasonable. The sun shines, one can wear short sleeves outside around noon, and daffodils, dandelions and daisies are in bloom -- simply put, our short California winter is gone. It's a relief for me -- taking Tom out into the rain is nothing enjoyable, you soon exhaust all available attractions and inevitably end up with a toddler who discovers drowned earthworms and similar tasty items. Imagine what that does with a pregnant stomach. However, junior romping on a lawn and plucking dandelions is a completely different cup of tea.

	Spring has arrived... ...may it be the end of drowned earthworms and mud

Me and my Little Hippo #2 have progressed into a second trimester. Surprisingly, this time I noticed something like "new influx of energy", which is being promised by all clever books. Oh no, I did not turn into a steam-roller mother, who would wake up at five a.m. and before rousing the rest of the family, she sweeps the house clean, cooks breakfast, irons all laundry, has weeded the roses and begins lunch cooking. We keep on living in the state of chaos (among my books, Toms toys, and Sid's computer components), but I managed to return to a system that lets me civilize one part of the house or yard every other day or so, hence perhaps we won't perish on scabies and filth after all. I am still having days when to cover mine and Tom's elemental life functions, I have to try really hard; Sid coming back from work finds me collapsed in some corner while Tom jumps on my exhausted body. Still, there are moments now when I enjoy taking a walk, or when I can rejoice from just having cleaned up our yard jungle a bit. Sometimes, I even manage to respond to Sid's greetings.

	Older buddies are good for Tom - he learns mischief from them

Some optimism came with my first proper consultation - with a real doctor. So far I had a session with a midwife who seems to be new at the clinic, hence she did not know me at all. Last time I wrote about that and about my tidings with genetic specialists. Now I finally got to "my" doctor, or one of my five doctors, actually. Thanks to my problematic pregnancy with Tom, I became a well-known entity at the clinic, which allows me to skip at least half of the introductory explanations. So when we talked with my doctor about my current pregnancy, only one sentence dealt with amniocentesis -- and I finally felt that I did not have to defend myself before an Inquest, or justify my (in my opinion, quite substantiated) fears of miscarriage. The receptionist has, too, began to recognize me from afar -- now this is the work of pregnancy dementia -- no visit of mine would pass without me having to humbly return for a purse, cell phone or similar item, left at the reception by a kind nurse who had found it. I wonder why it is that I haven't misplaced Tom already?
Shortly thereafter, they called me from the genetics lab -- all tests turned out well -- alas, the nurse could not avoid mentioning that I still can have amniocentesis done -- so I don't know -- my feeling came back that I was dealing with an obnoxious insurance agent, whom you kick out the door and who climbs back in through the chimney.

	Drinking fountain The biggest attraction in various parks.

Our program with Tom became quite loaded lately. With our neighbor's boy (who's name is Kevin Connor and is called K.C.) and his grandmother, we organize some event every week -- so far we had been to a children's museum, Monterey Aquarium, and as latest in San Jose ZOO. The ZOO itself is tiny, but the few animals they have are well picked -- I had seen capybaras for the first time in my life there, just as live meerkats. They also have a pen with farm animals, which kids can pet and feed. Understandably, our boys are only mildly interested in animals; the greatest attraction was a drinking fountain. Understand: it has a button you can push, it sprays water in which you can splash - and you can alternatively drink it. Is it not amazing?

Carousels were another good attraction. They have small ones there, for babies -- and so Tom rode a horsey, a lady bug, and a car (which was, naturally, his favorite). Rides are included in the ZOO admission, so once again I saved money on my child (having taken advantage of our neighbors' membership ticket). As if it wasn't enough, I topped the bill by taking my stroller into the ZOO, instead of paying three dollars and renting a CAR STROLLER, like K.C.'s grandma did. Several dramatic scenes ensued, for Tom immediately demanded to ride in the said car; fortunately K.C. was only mildly interested, hence we solved it diplomatically. The moral of the crisis is clear -- Tom must have exactly the same things other kids have.

	Capybara is a funny, porky rodent with webbed feet.

A quite new event in our family is Tom's sudden affinity to stuffed toy animals. Till now he had been ignoring them -- being interested in cars and books (those, if possible, about cars). And then on one day, he erupted into a love affair with his hippo Hugo, who accompanies him in bed. A few weeks ago he has requisitioned a pillow from our living room and sleeps with it; now, he won't part from Hugo, day or night. So far we have reached a phase, where we explain about places the stuffed hippo cannot go (like the bathroom and subsequently a toilet bowl, onto the back yard, into the cupboard with casseroles, and into the garbage bin) -- Tom keeps experimenting with spaces -- what would fit where, how to put something somewhere, close the door, and find the object again when you open the door. We are afraid that Hugo might not survive all these experiments and expressions of passionate affection.

By the end of January Tom became literally torn apart by his social commitments. All two of his child friends (or children of his parents' friends, respectively) were celebrating birthdays. It gathered all in one weekend -- K.C.'s celebration on Saturday, Lukas's party on Sunday. I bought presents, put Sid on notice about the events -- and went down with a flu. Not wanting to infect unpredictable number of children at a children's museum during the first party, neither daring to endanger Luke's five-days-old sister at the second party, I gave Sid a choice -- we would either cancel it all, or he could sacrifice himself and facilitate a little fun for his poor child. Sid, you must know, would rather donate a kidney than attend to a formal occasion. Yet, they returned from the first party an hour later than expected, and both in a very good mood; they came back from the second party barely in time to put Tom to bed. It makes me suspect that Hippo has not really suffered any harm.

	Tom and Hugo in the morning

Sid's note: a party at Children's Discovery Museum was a great idea. Invited children played for a moment with colored, synthetic slime, and then received a serving of fried chicken dinosaurs (besides the usual birthday cake). Tom entertained most parents present by approaching everyone with a smile, showing adults and kids various things (toys, food, buttons etc.), and gradually explored all corners. I even overheard some girls (age: 4-10) whispering among themselves how cute Tom was. Instead of waiting for someone to come up with an excuse to start departing, Tommy has hung himself at the door handle and everybody, children and all, rolled out into the public areas of the museum, where one can find many expositions and experiments that even small hands can touch. Tom naturally obliged to get very wet at a water trough with fountains, and got smeared with soap at a giant bubble-making contraption.

Lukas's second birthday was rather very family-oriented. I found amusing a situation with a cake that we suddenly had to hid again from the toastee, for his father forgot a video camera in his car. While the birthday boy only slightly nibbled on his cake (I guess he does not like sweet stuff), our eating machine grabbed a spoon and processed all by himself a substantial portion of a creamy cut with strawberries. Then all the sugars did things to him. Luke has raised only mild protests as Tom (who's nine months younger, but not much less assertive) requisitioned Luke's brand new fire engine toy with an extensible ladder. Fortunately, Tom likes to alternate toys and like to learn new tricks from Lucas. It soon became apparent that he had also stolen and nibbled on a nectarine and an apple; we saved the bananas, but only under protests. Tom then kept on going late into the night, running up and down like a ricocheting bullet, burning off the caloric overload.

	While the birthday boy plays with a toy train, Tom focuses on a cake.

Alas, my flu eventually felled my Hippo as well, which has presented us with a problem for our Thursday swim class -- I was still sick and sniffling, Sid already infected and coughing his lungs out -- there really was nobody available to go with Tom, and we had to skip. Our weekend program reflected our limited strengths, which finally gets us around to the tailoring. In the morning, Sid took Tom to a "walk" into Fry's (computer store), to obtain a new power supply, replacing the one which hopelessly died on our server (and we apologize for temporary interruption of text, image, and mail services). Followed a short all-family outing in the afternoon, with a stop at a playground.

Tom is relatively self-sufficient on playgrounds; he comes up with his own interests and he asks for help with things he cannot do, by pointing (you, mother, lift me up to this here swing). We were chatting amicably with a dad of a girl of same age, while the children toddled on a jungle gym. It happened in a moment when we were both within Tom's reach (and he was in ours). He stumbled and fell and started to squeal. Falls happen on a daily basis with us, but when I lifted him and wanted to reassure him as usual that it would be OK, ready to pat his back and release him into the world, I suddenly became queasy. Mostly because it was not clear if all that blood was coming from his nos or from his mouth. A quick wipe with a hanky revealed the source being a relatively small wound on Tom's forehead, and we estimated that it would need a few stitches -- so we drove off to a hospital, despite Tom showing all signs of wanting to continue to play with the gym.

	Tom playing on a jungle gym -- picture taken shortly before he fell right at this spot

I had mentally prepared myself for an emergency room of a late Saturday afternoon, full of people, implying hours of waiting. A receptionist was typing something into her computer and it took her about two seconds to lift her head to indicate she has noticed us. Well, before she could finished voicing her standard, "May I help you?" she spotted Tom (who still had his face only slightly wiped with a handkerchief, as we came straight from the playground); she gulped noisily and said that she would call a pediatric nurse right away. Nurse came to see the damage and assess how urgent a case we were. We were asked in almost immediately -- Tom got his first proper washing of the wound, and we got our assurance that a doctor would be around shortly. Shortly took twenty minutes, during which Tom made several attempts to explore all other exam rooms and offices, re-format a few computer hard drives, and open an oxygen bottle valve. The doctor gave us two options how to close the wound -- a super-glue, which, however, must not be disturbed, for then it cannot be re-glued nor stitched -- or classic sewing, which is a much more difficult procedure, but it would last. Given Tom's temperament (and age, in which we can't reason with him that he must not touch the wound and remove a bandage), we chose the Frankenstein option.

	The band aid does not suggest six stitches underneath.

The nurse tried to apply a numbing cream on Tom's forehead. The bandage with the cream was supposed to stay there for ten minutes -- and lasted exactly five seconds. During our second attempt we gave up our good manners and simply held Tom's hands for the required time. At that time, we congratulated ourselves to choosing sutures over glue -- even those ten minutes were excruciatingly long -- we could never hold him like that for four days.

Then we wrapped junior tightly into a sheet, the nurse sat down at Tom's head, the doctor grabbed a syringe with anaesthetic (to numb Tom's forehead before sewing it). I gave Tom a milk bottle, and for a while all went peacefully. Tom happy, doctor and nurse hummed approvingly, and Sid, who's job was to hold Tom's body, had practically nothing to do. Then Tom got a sterile cloth over his face (revealing only the area to be sewed) and that he did not like at all. For the rest of the time, Sid, the nurse, and I sat on Tommy, and the doctor was sewing. I must say the result looked very tidy -- definitely better than that gaping hole we brought to the hospital. Finally, they plastered a band on it, which concluded the metamorphosis of a midget guerilla fighter with a clean head shot wound into a mere toddler with a bruised forehead.

It seems that Tom has actually forgotten all about this accident right back there at the playground, and his suffering at the hospital has impacted me (via surgery nightmares) more than our kid. Tommy keeps on climbing high, eats with an undiminished appetite, and appears to be of good spirits and excellent health.

Copyright © 2005 by Carol & Sid Paral. All rights reserved.