The past several days, The Boy has thrown up sometime around dinnertime. He has always been otherwise fine afterward and ready to eat lighter fare like applesauce or Rice Chex. Don't know what the deal is here. We are trying to be more careful with him and cutting him off after an approximate amount of food, because we have a feeling that there is something screwy with his ability to feel full. It used to be that he was very good at that, and if he wanted to eat a lot it was because he was very hungry, and it was fine. But then, we were pretty careful today and stuff just came up. Whole.
The Boy is going to the center tomorrow. He almost certainly will need platelets and probably will need red cells as well. Might be a long day.
Meanwhile, Tiny Guy has some odd swelling on his penis. Almost like a blister but it doesn't look much different from the skin. We called the pediatrician who told us to put some Bacitracin on it a few times and to call him tomorrow if it is still a problem. Which I'm sure it will be, so we'll take two cars and I'll probably be taking the little one to see the doctor. Good times.
End gross alert.
My parents were here from Friday at 1AM until Sunday at 2PM. We had a wonderful weekend. Usually when my mother is here, The Boy is in the hospital. This time, they actually got to have fun. Tiny Guy seems to like my dad a lot. One of his major jobs was to make sure that Tiny Guy got his walks and his outside time. Grandma was in charge of his naked time.
The thing about Tiny Guy and his raging--which was really not so bad today--is that sometimes it seems as though he forgets what he is mad about and he needs something to distract him from being mad. So if we put him down and take his pants off, or if we take him outside, sometimes he just gets over it. Of course, he is also hungry frequently.
Here's the other thing: there are always discussions about breastfeeding on demand and how nursing moms will just feed the kids at the first squawk. I don't know about your nursling, but mine won't eat successfully if he isn't hungry. The breast is not a mute button. He'll latch on and fitfitfit, even after getting out the burps, and I'll know that he isn't hungry and needs something else. Preferably someone else too--going for a walk with Daddy or Grandpa is usually just the ticket. Or, snuggling with Grandma.
Saturday evening, we went to a wedding. Musical Daddy used his new iPhone to take pictures and instantly post on Facebook. The iPhone was a present from my parents and his father. Also, my mom gave us money for a year of the data plan. Which, by the way, we get a discount on because we found a university discount plan on our phone.
It was hard to leave the boys, particularly Tiny Guy, for so long, but it was such a wonderful celebration. The food was just out of this world--lamb chops and sushi were the highlights of the cocktail hour. The meal itself was incredible. I even had a Drink--an appletini. Strong drink, tell you what. I had that drink after my second pumping.
By the way, at the risk of bragging, I brought home an entire pint of milk last night, from pumping. Tiny Guy didn't drink that much while I was gone, although he probably should have. He tolerates bottles, but it's as if he is never satisfied when he is given them. I don't have any idea how much he "should" be getting--I only think of it in terms of, does he want one side or both?
I don't even remember when the last time was that we got dressed up to go out.
We had a lot of fun. Oddly enough, the people that we picked to sit with at the cocktail hour were the same people at our assigned table during the reception. Even more odd, but certainly not a bad thing, was that the people were all at least one age level, if not two, older than us. As in, there were two couples with high school and college-aged kids, and they were the people we spent the most time with (and met at the Town Tavern to kill some time between the ceremony and reception), as well as the parents of the best man and two other couples. We danced, we talked, we ate drank and were merry. I was particularly amused by the best man's choreography skills.
In other news, I am pleased to report that my maternity clothing is in a box. I have some ways to go before I'm back to where I'd like to be, body-wise, but I'm not in a rush. Tiny Guy is taking care of most of it by nursing well and gently reminding me to take him for walks outside (and by "gently reminding" I mean screaming his head off), and the finishing touches will take place once I have the time to spend in the gym downstairs. I'm waiting on that until Musical Daddy finishes his dissertation.
But I am excited at the prospect of being a gym jock again.