Rain, Rain, Go Away

Seriously, 2014, what gives?!
It's only April and I'm ready to be done with this year already...

Forgive me if this post is incoherent, as I am currently under the influence of (prescribed) narcotics. Read on.

This mess kind of began in August, but everything really hit the fan within the last month-ish. I had a biopsy done in mid-March, and two days later got a call from the doctor's office saying "we have your results and you need to come into the office as soon as possible and bring your husband with you so we can discuss treatment options." Yea, never a good thing, and it completely ruined what would have otherwise been a lovely weekend because aforementioned call occurred around 4pm on a Friday. Ugh. Earlier that same day, I took our dog to the vet because she had been acting funny and, surprise! Her bladder stones were back and she needed surgery the following Tuesday.
That Monday, I went to my doctor and we discussed me having surgery. Which was scheduled for yesterday, 4/24. So, puppy has surgery and mommy has surgery. Which equals a serious drain of our savings account.
Puppy's surgery went well, and her recovery was OK. I stayed home with her for a few days because she was absolutely miserable and was unable to pee or eat without assistance... that was no fun whatsoever. My surgery went well too- it was an outpatient surgery and I didn't even feel nauseous coming out of the anesthesia. I was only under for about an hour, which probably helped. I slept for the majority of the day yesterday.
This morning, hubby said he'd get up with the baby and let me sleep. Except, that didn't happen. After he got her up, he came marching into our bedroom and told me something wasn't right with the baby. He sat down on the bed with her on his lap, and said she was acting funny. He was right- she just kind of sat there and stared off into the distance. When she would finally come back to reality, she was quiet and very still. She would mutter a few words, then space out again. He handed her to me, and she immediately laid on top of me with her head on my chest, completely still again. And if you know anything about my child, you know that the only time she snuggles with me like that is if she's scared or hurt. So something was definitely not right. When she finally started becoming more oriented and talking more, hubby took her into the other room to feed her. I sat with her while he was making her breakfast, and she seemed better for the most part. I started recording her just in case, and she had another episode that I luckily got on video. She was asking daddy for a pancake, then noticed me videotaping her. She looked at the camera and said "cheese" and then went completely blank. She stared right through the camera, without moving anything other than her hands. I rubbed her cheeks, waved my hand in front of her face, and called her name to no avail. She finally snapped out of it, looked around for a second, and then happily said "pancake" again.

All signs point to a cluster of absence seizures.

I called the doctor and they got us in right away. I was so focused on my poor baby that I didn't shower, eat, or have any coffee. I grabbed my pain meds as I rushed to get everything together and off we went to the doctor. Emma was excited to see the fish tank in the waiting area, as usual. She said hi to the fish and wanted to kiss them... love that kid. I showed the doctor the video, and he agreed that she was likely having seizures. He gave us a referral for a pediatric neurologist and that was that. It wasn't until after we left the doctor that I realized I was absolutely starving and in a significant amount of pain. And I really needed some coffee. A quick stop at Dunkin Donuts fixed all of that, and my sweet girl happily chowed down on almost half of my pepper-jack bagel. It was relatively spicy, but honey badger don't care. She gobbled it down.

I can remember two other episodes similar to this morning's, but neither was nearly as what we experienced today. The other two episodes were short and isolated, not repeated like today's were.

My goober was a big goober for the rest of the day, and you would have never known that she spent the first part of her morning in such bad shape. She had a great appetite, took an OK nap, and chatted up a storm all day long. So at least it didn't ruin the rest of her day... although it really put a damper on mine. Of course I spent the day Googling "absence seizures" off and on, in between dozing off in bed and watching somewhat of a marathon of "The Office."

I feel like this is the beginning of another chapter in our lives. More doctor's appointments, a lot of tests, and a very anxious and nervous mommy. There are no words to describe the feeling of watching your child go through something like that and knowing that there's nothing you can do to help her... and it puts a pit in my stomach to look at the neurology referral and see a diagnoses of "petit mal seizures," knowing that it's about my sweet, precious, helpless little angel. Ugh. This blows.

So prayers are appreciated, and advice is always welcomed. I'll do my best to not curl into a ball and try to hide from 2014... but omg make it stop.

Bossy Mockingbird

Incoming novel. Prepare yo'self.

My little walkie-talkie's verbal skills are INSANE these days. She started stringing together two words a little while ago, and is now up to three- and four-word sentences every so often. "Mommy eat waffle" was a notable one. An honorable mention for most hilarious goes to "mo' sawse!" (more sauce). She caught on to the concept of "two" a few months back, when she would happily grab two identical objects and identify that- i.e. "two Elmos." Now she can count to three on command. She knows all of her colors, three shapes (circle, square, and triangle) and part of the alphabet. She loves to sing "rain rain go away, come again" and "la la la Elmo song." Love this kid. She knows a lot of animal noises, and will randomly say "puppy say woof." She also tends to repeat everything we say... hence the mockingbird. But she's so rude and bossy, as is normal for a toddler, and I swear sometimes she sounds like an angry German.

I shamefully admit that I don't handle oncoming transitions in the land of parenting very well. I easily adapt to changes in my other life (do I really have a life outside of parenting now?) but when it comes to changing anything in my child's life, I'd rather run and hide in a corner somewhere. And curl up into a ball, rock back and forth, and hum "Yankee Doodle" until it's all over. It's that bad. 

It's a full-blown case of first-time parent syndrome. If you're a parent, you may know what I'm talking about. It's the completely neurotic, inexplicable need to obsess over everything about your child. The routine. Safety. Germs. Food. Sleep. And OH MY GOD THE SCHEDULE.

*points to self* guilty as charged. I often get that look of  "aw, isn't that adorable... she's a first-time mom. Look at her go..." which at first really irritated me. Now I appreciate the sympathy and continue with my neurotic behavior. Ok, ok... fine. It's not that bad. She once ate a stale puff that had been sitting in the driveway for a day or two, and I have resisted the urge to put knee pads on her now that she's getting clumsy and has scraped her knees a few times.

My real problem are the transitions and the schedule. She does so well with a good routine and schedule, and we so rarely deviate from it because we've been able to work our lives around it. And that's not a problem for us, so don't get all judgey on me. I see photos on Facebook all the time of people toting their babies and toddlers to various restaurants, events, and blah blah blah. Because that's the way they live their lives, and they incorporated their child into that. We've always been more homebodies than anything. Pre-baby, we would go out to fancy restaurants here and there and waste time shopping and buying things we probably didn't need. Kids are expensive. And I have no desire to take my little bug with us for a $40 steak. So, the schedule has been our saving grace and has given us a very settled, comfortable, happy-go-lucky kid who goes to bed well and naps like a champ (most days).

And then... the two-one nap switch came along. It started out rough for a couple of days, but she adjusted pretty well and it was smooth sailing. Life was great again, and the one-nap-a-day routine has been so incredibly liberating. Ah, yes. And then one day, when I picked her up from my mom after work, my mom let me know that my little bundle of one-nap-a-day joy had escaped from her pack-n-play after her nap. That was clearly a fluke. The next time she was at my parents' house, the same thing happened. I decided their pack-n-play must have been easy for her to get out of. That weekend, as she was getting up from her nap at home (a little too early), I saw her little feet lifting up off the mattress. I walked into her room JUST in time to witness her doing an Olympic-gymnast-style plank pose on top of her crib rail.

It was time to switch her to a toddler bed. ON A SUNDAY. When I had to be up extra super early the next day to be in another county for training all day long. I was not ready for this, and I felt like my little bug was not ready for this either because SHE'S NOT EVEN TWO.

So yes, my little preemie wonder child who started crawling at 11 months of age and walking at 14 months of age turned into this crazy monkey who wants to "kimbe" (climb) into and out of absolutely everything.

When we made the two-one nap switch, I was all "ugggghhhh I hope this works out and she isn't a mess."

When it was time for her first sleep in her toddler bed (ON A SUNDAY NIGHT) I was all " OH MY FREAKING GOD I AM NOT GOING TO LIVE PAST TONIGHT AND EVERYTHING IS GOING TO BE IN A SHAMBLES FOR THE REST OF TIME GAAAAAHHHHHHHH"

No joke. I was so horrified at the thought of my tiny little toddler having free roam of her room when I wasn't in there that even though her room was pretty well child-proofed, I kept imagining her unplugging something and subsequently electrocuting herself. But I had no choice... the possibility of her falling off her crib and breaking her neck was too great for me to ignore. So hubby took the front off of her convertible crib (whoever invented that is a genius and I hope he/she is currently sitting in a kiddie pool full of Benjamins and drinking from a solid gold goblet because they deserve it) and put on the toddler rail. I stared at it... there was no way this was really happening. Crazy baby immediately got excited and proceeded to climb in and out of her big-girl bed like a hundred times in a row.

I took every opportunity to read other parents' stories about their first night with a tiny toddler in a big-kid bed. Then hunkered down for what was certainly going to be an awful night and... I was right. She went to bed before 8pm just fine and fell right asleep. Then, at about 10:30pm, when mommy was getting ready to turn in for the night, the little bug sat up in her crib and looked around. Then her little butt started scooting off the edge of the bed... it was time. Thankfully I read that info on the toddler bed transition, because I knew the battle that lay before me and that it would probably not last all night long. But I had to be the one with the stronger will... that was key.

I marched into her room and when she saw me, she froze and said "noooooooo." I picked her up and put her back in bed, told her it was time to go to sleep, and walked out. My fancy-shmancy video monitor showed me that she immediately got right back up again. So I immediately went back into her room. She had decided to run for her air purifier because it was so darned fun to turn it off and on repeatedly. I picked up my protesting child, and put her back in bed and again told her that it was time to sleep. And repeat. I kept reminding myself that I am the parent and, although sometimes it may not seem like it, I have a stronger will than my toddler and I would ultimately succeed in this little battle. I finally decided that the air purifier wasn't worth it (we use it for white noise) so I unplugged it and put in a new outlet cover. But then she decided that the drawer on her nightstand looked interesting. As time went on, I started not speaking to her when I would go in. Finally, I didn't even touch her. I walked in as she was still in the process of getting out of her bed, and told her to get back in bed and go to sleep. She crawled back in bed and I scooted her up on the mattress a bit, then walked out. She was pretty pissed. But she didn't get up again. By now, it was after midnight and I was exhausted. When I was confident that she probably wasn't going to get up again, I went to bed.

But sleep well? I did not. You know that kind of sleep you get the night before something really exciting or when you're reeeeaaalllllyyyyy nervous about something? That's the kind of torturous sleep I got. She didn't end up waking up again until about 6:30, which is early for her, but I couldn't shake the anxiety of her being in her toddler bed. I suddenly found myself wondering what was really in the drawer of that nightstand... and whether or not there was something in there that could injure her. Oy. I felt hungover the next day from all of the anxiety. I know, I know. In retrospect, it was not that big of a deal. But it was a huge transition for us all that I was NOT expecting to happen for a lot longer. I don't like diving into these things without being fully mentally prepared.

Night 2 was better. At 10:30, she woke up and started to get out of bed. I immediately walked in there and when she saw me, she said "noooooo" just like the night before. She knew she was busted... I told her to get back into bed, which she did. And proceeded to put herself back to sleep and slept until 6:45. After that night, she hasn't gotten up again after I've put her in bed. She's been waking up around 6:45 every morning, which is pretty early for her. Until this weekend, when she's slept until 7:30 or 8. Which is so. glorious. And when she gets up in the morning, she walks to the door and waits for me. If I don't come in right away, she goes back to her bed and lays down for a few minutes, and will then get back up and quietly wait at the door again. I'm putting that in the "mommy wins" column of my imaginary scorecard of parenting. Emma still has way more wins than  I do, though. It'll probably stay that way forever.

So that's that. Napping the toddler bed hasn't been so great, because she wakes up about halfway through and wants to wander around her bedroom. Today, she went to her door and then got back into bed. I thought she fell back asleep, but she was up again about 20 minutes later. The culprit appeared to be a poopy diaper.

AND. She put about three drops of pee in the potty today! Woo! She's definitely not going to allow us to potty train her until it's her idea, so we're not even pushing it. So three drops is a significant success.

Let's see... what else.

She has twelve teeth. She's up to about 23.5 pounds. She still hates eating anything that's not a fruit pouch. She still LOVES to read books and is obsessed with animals. She couldn't care less about her babydolls and can't go anywhere without an Elmo. She loves bath time and coloring with crayons. And has complete and total meltdowns over practically nothing. She often says "hands" and proceeds to grab your hand and drag you to wherever she wants you. She's the boss these days.

Oh, and she finally acts like she loves her mommy and daddy. Which is great.