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Wednesday, December 7, 2011
Sunday, October 23, 2011
How Baby C came to be...well, her birth story...finally
It's only taken me 17-months to pull this one up and post it for documentation reasons...
I prefer my meals all prepared au naturale - no sauces, no real added oils or flavors...just straight-up proteins and veggies in their natural state...I did not know that this philosophy also carried over to my preference for child birth - no medical sauces, just straight-up pain.
I woke up the morning of the 17th, and thought that it was going to be the day. Throughout the night, I had extreme feelings of pressure, and felt like the pangs were more than typical Braxton-Hicks contractions. B had a PT appointment for his knee that morning in Foxboro that he abruptly canceled, so as the day progressed nothing was really happening, I felt like he postponed his therapy for not.
Fast forward to the 18th - all day I was experiencing intermittent labor pains - went to Whole Foods, stopped in my tracks by the baby food while the pain subsided...went to Trader Joe's, paused by the fruit display to see the aches through. The labor started the night before at around 2:30am - strong pressure with tinges of pain - our neighbor EL came by around 3pm to hang out while the cleaners finished up at their place, and as we chatted, I found myself bending over with each contraction. At this point, the pains were about 12 minutes apart - pulling back to when I went into labor with CR, I would have been out the door hours before, not knowing what to do with myself. With her, I felt like 12 minutes was an eternity between contractions...like I had time between each clinch to nearly forget what the former twinge felt like until another one came.
Around 6pm, B walked through the door, and I was feeling pretty bad. The contractions were getting closer together, and their duration was increasing - they got to be about 5 minutes apart lasting thirty seconds each time. I called the hospital, and they advised that I wait until they lasted for at least a minute for each onslaught. I was a bit wary of this advice, as I have had many a friend tell me that your second child shoots out of you a heck of a lot quicker than the first, but nonetheless we held tight at home for another hour or so.
Once my contractions reached the "we need to go to the hospital" threshold, we called in the first tier of troops for CR-care.
EB came to take care of CR - she was a saint to be there while SM finished up work - such a relief to know he was in good hands, with people who he was comfortable with - not to get all religious, but it was truly a blessing to know that our first offspring was fine while we welcomed the second.
We arrived at the Brigham, and walked through the doors, thinking that we knew where we were going - apparently the hospital likes to toy with ladies in labor and they decided to move the check-in to a new location. After staring at the wall where the home of the original office was, we finally located the registration desk. Luckily I actually remembered to send in my pink pre-reg sheet a few weeks back, so they already had all the details on my baby-making history, so I was quickly guided upstairs to triage.
We sat [paced around] the waiting room for about 10 minutes before they called me in. There was a woman who had apparently come in with a friend or her sister who recently welcomed their bundle of joy. We overheard her reporting the news to an anxious listener on the other end of the phone..."yeah, she is out cold now...I would be too if I had a 10+ pound baby..." Daaaamn. This was not something I wanted to hear while my baby was still inside of me...B and I know we breed small, but who knows who our little lady would take after - who knows if there is some gargantuan ancestor on one side of the family who decided to toss their genes in Baby C's direction....
A nurse called me in first, leaving B to himself in the waiting room. The clinician asked me a series of medical questions between contractions, and hooked me up to the baby monitor. The wee-one's heart rate looked great, and my vitals were on point.
After I was cleared as in good shape, B rejoined me, and the doctor came in to check how dilated I was. The labor pains were pretty intense, so I figured I must be at least 2-3 cm...remembering back to the last time I was in this situation, I was crossing my fingers that they wouldn't knock my pain threshold ego by letting me know that I was not yet in "true" labor at 1/2 cm. Much to my surprise (and the doctor's, based on how my demeanor was pretty relaxed at this point), I was 7cm. Wow. This was going to go fast from here on out.
I was immediately brought up to my own delivery room, and reattached to the monitors to ensure Baby C was okay. My delivery nurse was amazing. She did not hover over me, but simply automatically did things to help me deal with my pain. She kept asking if I wanted to do it without drugs...I struggled, fearing all that could happen without a buffer between me and the passage of our little girl through my body. I remembered back to how CR did a number on me as he entered the world, and did not want that to happen again while I could feel it. As my labor progressed, I continued to refuse to give in to an epidural.
My groans became drawn-out moans...like a wild animal. Embarrassing, as I look back, but it was the only thing that I could do to stifle the pain. I swear B thought he was in a Nat'l Geographic movie - I was just short of needing a leather strap to bite on. Now on all fours on the hospital bed, I kept feeling the urge to push - I never thought it would be a feeling that I could not resist - I had to push - but they had to first manually break my water...it was so much easier with CR when my body did it for me.
I kept looking around for a trashcan - I felt like I was going to get sick due to the pain, but the nurses around me did not see any need for grabbing a boot-bucket - I am sure they have witnessed much worse things hit the delivery room floor. At this point I was in so much pain that I screamed out "I want my f&cking epidural!!" Apparently Baby C's head was making it's initial appearance, so it was too late - SOL for a pain reliever...no hot anesthesiologist to tap my back and take away the ouchies.
"How much longer?!?!" I groaned. The nurses said it all depended on me, so I pushed and I pushed 'til Baby C popped into the world.
As soon as she arrived, B and I did not feel the immediate bond and elation we felt when CR joined us, but as soon as she opened her little peepers, we felt a little more connected - she was a little puffy and squishy from the fast delivery. One eye was droopy, and she had so much dark, long hair (that's why I had such horrible heartburn!!). It's just so crazy to add another little member of our family.
Baby C followed her brother's lead and gave me a second degree tear - what thoughtful children I have. After the whole delivery and stitching episode was over, I crazily felt great. After having CR, the epidural left me paralyzed from the waist down. I had to have a catheter to pee, and couldn't get out of bed. After Baby C? I seriously wanted to go out for a walk. I was nearly pain-free, and after a day I was able to literally go out for a stroll (illegally...B and I walked outside around the Fenway area unbenounced to my nurses). The only thing that ailed me was my throat from all the groaning during birth - I had the feeling that I went to a concert the night before...
All in all, despite the real intense pain of active labor, I would do it all over again without the drugs. I feel lucky to have had the chance to experience childbirth both ways.
Baby C is home, and is fast becoming a part of our family - we feel like she's always been here.
I prefer my meals all prepared au naturale - no sauces, no real added oils or flavors...just straight-up proteins and veggies in their natural state...I did not know that this philosophy also carried over to my preference for child birth - no medical sauces, just straight-up pain.
I woke up the morning of the 17th, and thought that it was going to be the day. Throughout the night, I had extreme feelings of pressure, and felt like the pangs were more than typical Braxton-Hicks contractions. B had a PT appointment for his knee that morning in Foxboro that he abruptly canceled, so as the day progressed nothing was really happening, I felt like he postponed his therapy for not.
Fast forward to the 18th - all day I was experiencing intermittent labor pains - went to Whole Foods, stopped in my tracks by the baby food while the pain subsided...went to Trader Joe's, paused by the fruit display to see the aches through. The labor started the night before at around 2:30am - strong pressure with tinges of pain - our neighbor EL came by around 3pm to hang out while the cleaners finished up at their place, and as we chatted, I found myself bending over with each contraction. At this point, the pains were about 12 minutes apart - pulling back to when I went into labor with CR, I would have been out the door hours before, not knowing what to do with myself. With her, I felt like 12 minutes was an eternity between contractions...like I had time between each clinch to nearly forget what the former twinge felt like until another one came.
Around 6pm, B walked through the door, and I was feeling pretty bad. The contractions were getting closer together, and their duration was increasing - they got to be about 5 minutes apart lasting thirty seconds each time. I called the hospital, and they advised that I wait until they lasted for at least a minute for each onslaught. I was a bit wary of this advice, as I have had many a friend tell me that your second child shoots out of you a heck of a lot quicker than the first, but nonetheless we held tight at home for another hour or so.
Once my contractions reached the "we need to go to the hospital" threshold, we called in the first tier of troops for CR-care.
EB came to take care of CR - she was a saint to be there while SM finished up work - such a relief to know he was in good hands, with people who he was comfortable with - not to get all religious, but it was truly a blessing to know that our first offspring was fine while we welcomed the second.
We arrived at the Brigham, and walked through the doors, thinking that we knew where we were going - apparently the hospital likes to toy with ladies in labor and they decided to move the check-in to a new location. After staring at the wall where the home of the original office was, we finally located the registration desk. Luckily I actually remembered to send in my pink pre-reg sheet a few weeks back, so they already had all the details on my baby-making history, so I was quickly guided upstairs to triage.
We sat [paced around] the waiting room for about 10 minutes before they called me in. There was a woman who had apparently come in with a friend or her sister who recently welcomed their bundle of joy. We overheard her reporting the news to an anxious listener on the other end of the phone..."yeah, she is out cold now...I would be too if I had a 10+ pound baby..." Daaaamn. This was not something I wanted to hear while my baby was still inside of me...B and I know we breed small, but who knows who our little lady would take after - who knows if there is some gargantuan ancestor on one side of the family who decided to toss their genes in Baby C's direction....
A nurse called me in first, leaving B to himself in the waiting room. The clinician asked me a series of medical questions between contractions, and hooked me up to the baby monitor. The wee-one's heart rate looked great, and my vitals were on point.
After I was cleared as in good shape, B rejoined me, and the doctor came in to check how dilated I was. The labor pains were pretty intense, so I figured I must be at least 2-3 cm...remembering back to the last time I was in this situation, I was crossing my fingers that they wouldn't knock my pain threshold ego by letting me know that I was not yet in "true" labor at 1/2 cm. Much to my surprise (and the doctor's, based on how my demeanor was pretty relaxed at this point), I was 7cm. Wow. This was going to go fast from here on out.
I was immediately brought up to my own delivery room, and reattached to the monitors to ensure Baby C was okay. My delivery nurse was amazing. She did not hover over me, but simply automatically did things to help me deal with my pain. She kept asking if I wanted to do it without drugs...I struggled, fearing all that could happen without a buffer between me and the passage of our little girl through my body. I remembered back to how CR did a number on me as he entered the world, and did not want that to happen again while I could feel it. As my labor progressed, I continued to refuse to give in to an epidural.
My groans became drawn-out moans...like a wild animal. Embarrassing, as I look back, but it was the only thing that I could do to stifle the pain. I swear B thought he was in a Nat'l Geographic movie - I was just short of needing a leather strap to bite on. Now on all fours on the hospital bed, I kept feeling the urge to push - I never thought it would be a feeling that I could not resist - I had to push - but they had to first manually break my water...it was so much easier with CR when my body did it for me.
I kept looking around for a trashcan - I felt like I was going to get sick due to the pain, but the nurses around me did not see any need for grabbing a boot-bucket - I am sure they have witnessed much worse things hit the delivery room floor. At this point I was in so much pain that I screamed out "I want my f&cking epidural!!" Apparently Baby C's head was making it's initial appearance, so it was too late - SOL for a pain reliever...no hot anesthesiologist to tap my back and take away the ouchies.
"How much longer?!?!" I groaned. The nurses said it all depended on me, so I pushed and I pushed 'til Baby C popped into the world.
As soon as she arrived, B and I did not feel the immediate bond and elation we felt when CR joined us, but as soon as she opened her little peepers, we felt a little more connected - she was a little puffy and squishy from the fast delivery. One eye was droopy, and she had so much dark, long hair (that's why I had such horrible heartburn!!). It's just so crazy to add another little member of our family.
Baby C followed her brother's lead and gave me a second degree tear - what thoughtful children I have. After the whole delivery and stitching episode was over, I crazily felt great. After having CR, the epidural left me paralyzed from the waist down. I had to have a catheter to pee, and couldn't get out of bed. After Baby C? I seriously wanted to go out for a walk. I was nearly pain-free, and after a day I was able to literally go out for a stroll (illegally...B and I walked outside around the Fenway area unbenounced to my nurses). The only thing that ailed me was my throat from all the groaning during birth - I had the feeling that I went to a concert the night before...
All in all, despite the real intense pain of active labor, I would do it all over again without the drugs. I feel lucky to have had the chance to experience childbirth both ways.
Baby C is home, and is fast becoming a part of our family - we feel like she's always been here.
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
Elf on a Shelf...
This week at dinner, CR wouldn't finish his meal. I started to explain to him that it's getting close to that time of the year when a certain someone will be watching him, making note of whether he is being naughty or nice. I reminded him about the Elf on a Shelf, and proceeded to ask him who the little guy reports to about CR's behavior.
Mommy: So, CR, do you know who will be watching you to make sure you've been a verrrrry good boy this year?
CR: Daddy?
Mommy: Noooooo, he watches you too...this person is big, round, and wears red...
CR: Gee?!?!
My poor father. He doesn't wear that much red ;)
Mommy: So, CR, do you know who will be watching you to make sure you've been a verrrrry good boy this year?
CR: Daddy?
Mommy: Noooooo, he watches you too...this person is big, round, and wears red...
CR: Gee?!?!
My poor father. He doesn't wear that much red ;)
Saturday, August 6, 2011
They give them away for free at Trader Joes...
Background - CR is really into passing out stickers to people that purveyors give him freely at the checkout line, probably to just shut him up from asking for them. He saves them, cuts them into individual "portions," and gives them out. Family. Strangers at the grocery store. You name it, they are offered a sticker.
Tonight's good-night conversation.
CR: Mommy, do you want a sticker?
Mommy: I would love one - which one do you want me to have?
CR: You choose it, but I want money for it.
Mommy: (a little perplexed as to where he grasped the concept of currency) How much will it cost me?
CR: Twenty ducks
Mommy: (laughing) You mean twenty bucks - are you going to now start charging for stickers?
(I wanted to express to him that exchanging water fowl for adhesive is not necessarily something that flies these days, especially in that quantity...coincidentally we did go to the zoo today, but if I had only known about this proposition when I was there....hindsight is, well, you know...)
CR: I can make a stand and people can get them (I presume he is referring to the lemonade stands that are so prevalent in our town this summer - not sure how successful stickers will be in competition with the lemony liquid portals for those who pass by...)
Mommy: (while walking downstairs) Okay sweetie, I will make sure you will have payment on your bed when you wake up in the morning for my sticker...
CR: (while I walk down the stairs) I am sure you can find a buck in your wallet if you look...
Since when did CR become so fiscally driven? I am sure B has some part of it, and if I forget to put that dollar on CR's bed before morning, I am sure there will be harsh repercussions...
Tonight's good-night conversation.
CR: Mommy, do you want a sticker?
Mommy: I would love one - which one do you want me to have?
CR: You choose it, but I want money for it.
Mommy: (a little perplexed as to where he grasped the concept of currency) How much will it cost me?
CR: Twenty ducks
Mommy: (laughing) You mean twenty bucks - are you going to now start charging for stickers?
(I wanted to express to him that exchanging water fowl for adhesive is not necessarily something that flies these days, especially in that quantity...coincidentally we did go to the zoo today, but if I had only known about this proposition when I was there....hindsight is, well, you know...)
CR: I can make a stand and people can get them (I presume he is referring to the lemonade stands that are so prevalent in our town this summer - not sure how successful stickers will be in competition with the lemony liquid portals for those who pass by...)
Mommy: (while walking downstairs) Okay sweetie, I will make sure you will have payment on your bed when you wake up in the morning for my sticker...
CR: (while I walk down the stairs) I am sure you can find a buck in your wallet if you look...
Since when did CR become so fiscally driven? I am sure B has some part of it, and if I forget to put that dollar on CR's bed before morning, I am sure there will be harsh repercussions...
Friday, June 10, 2011
Everybody needs a "day"...
Mommy: What should we do for Daddy for Father's Day?
CR: I don't know - what do you want to do?
Mommy: It's next weekend so we need to decide soon
CR: When is it going to be Kids' Day?
CR: I don't know - what do you want to do?
Mommy: It's next weekend so we need to decide soon
CR: When is it going to be Kids' Day?
Friday, March 18, 2011
Misunderstandings
Baby C came down with the stomach bug yesterday morning - just in time for B's trip to VT for the weekend...lovely. CR and I are still feeling okay (knocking on every bit of wooden furniture in the house), and today Baby C is tired, but definitely better.
After a call yesterday morning to their pediatrician to make sure it was okay to send CR to school (yes, I am a little crazy...I know he wasn't the one who was throwing up, but out of fear that he might still be able to transfer the belly bug to others by way of association...this crazy lady needed to make sure his classmates weren't in danger...), I Purelled the heck out of his hands and shipped him out of the sick house into the school house.
I picked him up after "Lunch Bunch," and his teacher shared with me a little tidbit that CR said to his classmates earlier in the day.
What his teacher heard:
My babysitter had too much of the bottle and got sick...
What CR actually said:
My baby sister had too much of her bottle and got sick...
Mrs. W laughed, thinking what kind of bottle CR's babysitter drank too much of to make her sick...Jameson? Cuervo?
Gotta love everything that gets lost in translation...
After a call yesterday morning to their pediatrician to make sure it was okay to send CR to school (yes, I am a little crazy...I know he wasn't the one who was throwing up, but out of fear that he might still be able to transfer the belly bug to others by way of association...this crazy lady needed to make sure his classmates weren't in danger...), I Purelled the heck out of his hands and shipped him out of the sick house into the school house.
I picked him up after "Lunch Bunch," and his teacher shared with me a little tidbit that CR said to his classmates earlier in the day.
What his teacher heard:
My babysitter had too much of the bottle and got sick...
What CR actually said:
My baby sister had too much of her bottle and got sick...
Mrs. W laughed, thinking what kind of bottle CR's babysitter drank too much of to make her sick...Jameson? Cuervo?
Gotta love everything that gets lost in translation...
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
A standing O
Baby C put her hands together and clapped for the first time today - video to follow...
Amazing trip...
We have so many pictures from our trip - just battling with technology to get them uploaded appropriately...here is one snapped by Uncle J to get a little glimpse of heaven we experienced last week in St. John...
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Old MacDonald had a...menu...
As I stood in my kitchen tonight, picking the pinbones out of my dinner, (a center-cut piece of wild salmon - B has convinced me to eat only wild salmon after a conversation he had with an impressionable client - his take was that there are horrible dietary ramifications for consuming farm-cultivated spawn), I thought about at what point do you charge your child with the association between fuzzy and cute, and delicious and seared?
I almost called CR into the kitchen to start such conversation while I freed my meal from it's natural choking hazard, but then paused.
I grew up on a recreational (read: edible) farm. My first real association between what I pet with my hand, and what I put in my mouth, sent me into eight vegetarian years.
The brief: Nancy the ewe had triplets - she came down with a nasty case of mastitis (again, read: horrible, horrible, unimaginable as a former lactating female), and as a result, we bottle-fed her lambs...
Every day "Sweet Thing," my favorite little surrogate, would run at me when I arrived home from school, often with so much excitement that she would lunge herself through the squared-off fencing that separated her from our extended side lawn. I took it as a sign of love, when in reality, it was more her excitement to become one with the ghetto bottle that my father rigged up for her - a Forty, complete with a rubber nipple that was poorly attached to the oversized beer bottle...
At any rate, I loved my "pets," I loved raising them, but that ideal shifted when one day I came home from school, and asked my father "where's Sweet Thing?" - my father, thinking he was being funny, said "Check the freezer..."....so, there you have it. I knew about the kill...I witnessed the execution of countless turkeys, etc., but never a fluffy little thing I looked at as a pet...
So, I will refrain. As much as I know I want my kids to know where their food comes from...I hope to join a co-op for natural animal and vegetable supplies to bring our intake closer to home and healthy for our family...but tonight was not the night to make the connection....let CR have a little more time to crave the meatballs on his plate, and enjoy petting a cow at a visiting farm for just enjoyment alone...
I almost called CR into the kitchen to start such conversation while I freed my meal from it's natural choking hazard, but then paused.
I grew up on a recreational (read: edible) farm. My first real association between what I pet with my hand, and what I put in my mouth, sent me into eight vegetarian years.
The brief: Nancy the ewe had triplets - she came down with a nasty case of mastitis (again, read: horrible, horrible, unimaginable as a former lactating female), and as a result, we bottle-fed her lambs...
Every day "Sweet Thing," my favorite little surrogate, would run at me when I arrived home from school, often with so much excitement that she would lunge herself through the squared-off fencing that separated her from our extended side lawn. I took it as a sign of love, when in reality, it was more her excitement to become one with the ghetto bottle that my father rigged up for her - a Forty, complete with a rubber nipple that was poorly attached to the oversized beer bottle...
At any rate, I loved my "pets," I loved raising them, but that ideal shifted when one day I came home from school, and asked my father "where's Sweet Thing?" - my father, thinking he was being funny, said "Check the freezer..."....so, there you have it. I knew about the kill...I witnessed the execution of countless turkeys, etc., but never a fluffy little thing I looked at as a pet...
So, I will refrain. As much as I know I want my kids to know where their food comes from...I hope to join a co-op for natural animal and vegetable supplies to bring our intake closer to home and healthy for our family...but tonight was not the night to make the connection....let CR have a little more time to crave the meatballs on his plate, and enjoy petting a cow at a visiting farm for just enjoyment alone...
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Welcome to Needham
Scene from earlier today:
CR and I were taking a leisurely walk in the cold, with Baby C strapped to me in the Bjorn. It was mid-afternoon, and after over an hour of indoor games, and looking ahead to a welcome stretch before it got dark, I thought it might be a good idea to get outside for at least a stroll around the block.
We made it a couple of houses beyond a street that intersects our road, when I noticed a minivan backing up with aggression. With all the snow piling up along the roadsides, there is really only space for one car to get through at a time.
The driver of said minivan rolled down her window. I caught a glimpse of two occupied car seats in the second row of her family truckster, when I heard the following message uttered from the mother's dainty mouth:
I want you to tell me - what makes you think you are the most important thing in the world, BITCH?!
As the minivan hit Drive, a Jeep skirted by her, around the corner, parking three houses down from our place.
Angry Mom screeched down the road.
If someone, complete with children in the car, has that much anger and aggression on a side street without any other traffic, I cross my fingers I don't encounter her on any of my daily excursions around town...I am usually pushing a duallie with my kids in it...her random expletive will not even come close to what I would have to say if she screeched tires at me...
CR and I were taking a leisurely walk in the cold, with Baby C strapped to me in the Bjorn. It was mid-afternoon, and after over an hour of indoor games, and looking ahead to a welcome stretch before it got dark, I thought it might be a good idea to get outside for at least a stroll around the block.
We made it a couple of houses beyond a street that intersects our road, when I noticed a minivan backing up with aggression. With all the snow piling up along the roadsides, there is really only space for one car to get through at a time.
The driver of said minivan rolled down her window. I caught a glimpse of two occupied car seats in the second row of her family truckster, when I heard the following message uttered from the mother's dainty mouth:
I want you to tell me - what makes you think you are the most important thing in the world, BITCH?!
As the minivan hit Drive, a Jeep skirted by her, around the corner, parking three houses down from our place.
Angry Mom screeched down the road.
If someone, complete with children in the car, has that much anger and aggression on a side street without any other traffic, I cross my fingers I don't encounter her on any of my daily excursions around town...I am usually pushing a duallie with my kids in it...her random expletive will not even come close to what I would have to say if she screeched tires at me...
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Just one more reason it's great to be kid
As CR and I were chatting and playing a game the other day, he could not sit still. Every pause to take a turn at Memory, he matched his focused moment with a series of manic moves - it ranged from lying on his back, to jumping off the couch, to doing a little dance to music playing in his head - it was fascinating to me. I simply imagined myself, as an adult, behaving in the same manner while having a conversation with another adult...I would be labeled as manic, or worse, flat-out crazy. It must be nice to be able to be a little nuts, and smilingly have it passed off as simply being a kid...
Monday, January 24, 2011
Conversations...
Mommy: What should we do this afternoon?
CR: I don't know, go downstairs or somethiiiing...maybe paint, yeah, lets paint!
Mommy: Where do you want to paint?
CR: I don't know, on my diesel, yeah, on my diesel!!
Not a first choice for artists, but a huge hit on the Island of Sodor...
After changing Baby C's diaper and applying diaper rash cream to her backside, I remarked to CR that her bum hurts (note to self: cut back on feeding her lentils and split peas).
CR: Maybe you shouldn't take her temperature then.
After a long, long string of ear infections as a wee-one, CR endured way too many thermometer sessions. Knock on wood, we haven't had to take his temp for a long time...this is going to sound wrong, but the next time we have to and ask him to lift his tongue rather than drop his drawers, I hope he is relieved rather than disappointed...
CR: I don't know, go downstairs or somethiiiing...maybe paint, yeah, lets paint!
Mommy: Where do you want to paint?
CR: I don't know, on my diesel, yeah, on my diesel!!
Not a first choice for artists, but a huge hit on the Island of Sodor...
After changing Baby C's diaper and applying diaper rash cream to her backside, I remarked to CR that her bum hurts (note to self: cut back on feeding her lentils and split peas).
CR: Maybe you shouldn't take her temperature then.
After a long, long string of ear infections as a wee-one, CR endured way too many thermometer sessions. Knock on wood, we haven't had to take his temp for a long time...this is going to sound wrong, but the next time we have to and ask him to lift his tongue rather than drop his drawers, I hope he is relieved rather than disappointed...
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