<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?>
<?xml-stylesheet type="text/xsl" media="screen" href="/~d/styles/atom10full.xsl"?><?xml-stylesheet type="text/css" media="screen" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~d/styles/itemcontent.css"?><feed xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xmlns:openSearch="http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearch/1.1/" xmlns:georss="http://www.georss.org/georss" xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0" gd:etag="W/&quot;DU8CQHk-fSp7ImA9WhRUF00.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24426977</id><updated>2012-01-27T18:44:21.755-05:00</updated><category term="cooking" /><category term="glitch" /><category term="Help" /><category term="hugs" /><category term="strange" /><category term="milestone" /><category term="talking" /><category term="movies" /><category term="books" /><category term="bugs" /><category term="beach" /><category term="grace" /><category term="NaBloPoMo" /><category term="dmf maxim" /><category term="bedtime" /><category term="hair" /><category term="Happy New Year" /><category term="moods" /><category term="Nostalgia" /><category term="tantrum" /><category term="summer" /><category term="travel" /><category term="Halloween" /><category term="Mommy Moment" /><category term="relishing the dirt" /><category term="family" /><category term="review" /><category term="cars" /><category term="friends" /><category term="worry" /><category term="frugal" /><category term="meme" /><category term="blogher 07" /><category term="TV" /><category term="Galloping Horse Rule" /><category term="stress" /><category term="blankie" /><category term="blogher" /><category term="groups" /><category term="Parent Bloggers Network" /><category term="music" /><category term="discrimination" /><category term="gratitude" /><category term="school" /><category term="moms" /><category term="blog" /><category term="relishing" /><category term="angry" /><category term="potty" /><category term="life" /><category term="sleeping" /><category term="flirt" /><category term="construction" /><category term="cold" /><category term="websites" /><category term="words" /><category term="Dada" /><category term="baby" /><category term="escape" /><category term="giveaway" /><category term="food" /><category term="holidays" /><category term="play" /><category term="Dear Daniel" /><category term="writing" /><category term="health" /><category term="oddities" /><category term="noise" /><category term="pregnancy" /><title>Schmutz Bildet Fett - "Dirt Makes Fat"</title><subtitle type="html">Grandma Marguerite's sage advice translated from a lilting German phrase...  sort of a German version of "eating a little dirt never hurt anybody."  This fussing new Mom has since tried to adopt this philosophy.  Life is messy - ENJOY!</subtitle><link rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://susansamom.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://susansamom.blogspot.com/" /><link rel="next" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24426977/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25&amp;redirect=false&amp;v=2" /><author><name>Susan S.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13652825503815118552</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0f7vDbVF0kM/SONtxYUBOmI/AAAAAAAAAVo/ANZivnPyHDc/S220/grass.jpg" /></author><generator version="7.00" uri="http://www.blogger.com">Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>264</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/DirtMakesFat" /><feedburner:info xmlns:feedburner="http://rssnamespace.org/feedburner/ext/1.0" uri="dirtmakesfat" /><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="hub" href="http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/" /><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DE8FQXsyfyp7ImA9WhRSF0s.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24426977.post-2468153648758548874</id><published>2011-11-19T23:52:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-11-20T00:26:50.597-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-11-20T00:26:50.597-05:00</app:edited><title>Most certainly not for cookie...</title><content type="html">&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Pi3Pk-P3m34/TsiIbmdt4KI/AAAAAAAABCw/-wcd5SargPI/s1600/cis4cookie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Pi3Pk-P3m34/TsiIbmdt4KI/AAAAAAAABCw/-wcd5SargPI/s1600/cis4cookie.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
So.&amp;nbsp; Late in the evening of my last post, Ethan woke coughing and gagging and pretty upset.&amp;nbsp; His chest and belly had him looking like he was sucking hard, trying to get air and H and I went - not into panic mode, but call it "crisis mode" of what do we do here?&amp;nbsp; We tried a hot and steamy bathroom, but nothing seemed to be keeping the situation from spiraling further.&amp;nbsp; Leaving H home with Daniel I bundled Ethan into the car and off we went to the ER.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyone who has dealt with croup will probably guess that the cold night air calmed things a bit, but I was still plenty worried and continued my journey.&amp;nbsp; Frustration set in almost immediately with my little local hospital as they trundled me through their admittance procedure - even though it was Ethan and I in a completely empty waiting room.&amp;nbsp; We were finally ushered back, and after Ethan was diagnosed we were started on blowby oxygen, rescemic epinephrine and steroids.&amp;nbsp; It was around 4:30am when he still wasn't responding well to the treatments that it was decided to transport us to Bigger Hospital via ambulance.&amp;nbsp; EMTs strapped a car seat to a gurney, Ethan to the car seat, and off we went.&amp;nbsp; It's still a vivid memory of my teeny kid looking wide-eyed around at this commotion all for him....&amp;nbsp; and his little voice saying "Cuck?" (Truck?) as he looked out at the ambulance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They settled us as best we could be settled at Bigger Hospital.&amp;nbsp; Any way you go about it, though, it's hard on a 16 month old to be getting Xrays, monitors, IVs (3 pokes there), steroid shots...&amp;nbsp; and he absolutely hated the most common treatment of the epinephrine being blown in his face.&amp;nbsp; Each treatment he'd get temporarily better, then worse again.&amp;nbsp; None of us expected a case of croup to result in a 5-day hospitalization.&amp;nbsp; Most everyone helped us make the most of a bad and unexpected situation.&amp;nbsp; I thank God for those who looked after my little boy with such care.&amp;nbsp; And I learned to appreciate those who gave a little extra TLC to an exhausted Mama trying to look after her boy...&amp;nbsp; the kind nurse who ran to the cafeteria for me to make sure that I had something to eat, who made sure to ask if I needed anything at all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After 5 days Ethan finally had a night of not needing any breathing "treatments" and we were allowed to go home.&amp;nbsp; We've all been dealing with congestion and cold symptoms but nothing like the problems that we were having that sent us to the hospital.&amp;nbsp; Here's to getting back on track for the start of a healthier winter.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24426977-2468153648758548874?l=susansamom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://susansamom.blogspot.com/feeds/2468153648758548874/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24426977&amp;postID=2468153648758548874" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24426977/posts/default/2468153648758548874?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24426977/posts/default/2468153648758548874?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://susansamom.blogspot.com/2011/11/most-certainly-not-for-cookie.html" title="Most certainly not for cookie..." /><author><name>Susan S.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13652825503815118552</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0f7vDbVF0kM/SONtxYUBOmI/AAAAAAAAAVo/ANZivnPyHDc/S220/grass.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Pi3Pk-P3m34/TsiIbmdt4KI/AAAAAAAABCw/-wcd5SargPI/s72-c/cis4cookie.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CEAERX88fCp7ImA9WhRTE0o.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24426977.post-2160276822653722288</id><published>2011-11-03T22:11:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-11-03T22:11:44.174-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-11-03T22:11:44.174-04:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="life" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="baby" /><title>We Have Liftoff!</title><content type="html">&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-k6Hv58R1cuQ/TrNG5mKjy4I/AAAAAAAABCc/bwkRKvR060c/s1600/Liftoff.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-k6Hv58R1cuQ/TrNG5mKjy4I/AAAAAAAABCc/bwkRKvR060c/s320/Liftoff.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
Ethan has been a stubborn little booger when it comes to things like walking.&amp;nbsp; He seems to get sort of stalled at each stage of the game.&amp;nbsp; I can remember when he was "commando crawling" around and it seemed like he'd never get his belly off the ground.&amp;nbsp; Now he's been crawling and cruising for quite some time.&amp;nbsp; Each of our pushes to do any walking seemed to be met with an attitude of:&amp;nbsp; &lt;em&gt;Feh.&amp;nbsp; Why do that silly stuff when I can crawl around here so much faster?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We're finally seeing him initiate some steps all on his own, which sends us cheering.&amp;nbsp; I'm trying to remind myself too, however, to not wish each stage away.&amp;nbsp; It's those little milestones that take your breath away, when you realize they have suddenly slipped by you...&amp;nbsp; the last time breastfeeding, the last bath where they fit in the sink, the last word they sweetly mangled in such a cute way that you had to keep it...&amp;nbsp; Savoring these precious times.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24426977-2160276822653722288?l=susansamom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://susansamom.blogspot.com/feeds/2160276822653722288/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24426977&amp;postID=2160276822653722288" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24426977/posts/default/2160276822653722288?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24426977/posts/default/2160276822653722288?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://susansamom.blogspot.com/2011/11/we-have-liftoff.html" title="We Have Liftoff!" /><author><name>Susan S.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13652825503815118552</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0f7vDbVF0kM/SONtxYUBOmI/AAAAAAAAAVo/ANZivnPyHDc/S220/grass.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-k6Hv58R1cuQ/TrNG5mKjy4I/AAAAAAAABCc/bwkRKvR060c/s72-c/Liftoff.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CU8DSH44fyp7ImA9WhRTEkU.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24426977.post-1457230792588784688</id><published>2011-11-02T21:31:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2011-11-02T21:31:19.037-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-11-02T21:31:19.037-04:00</app:edited><title>Doctor, Doctor...</title><content type="html">&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2NvuA45kZwo/TrGwJ1rzqxI/AAAAAAAABCU/yVTcxRfHfpc/s1600/Red-Cross-Nurses.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="213" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2NvuA45kZwo/TrGwJ1rzqxI/AAAAAAAABCU/yVTcxRfHfpc/s320/Red-Cross-Nurses.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;
Baby up bunches last night - a slightly up temperature, and a raspy cough that concerned me.&amp;nbsp; Quick run through the doctor's office today resulted in a negative strep test and decision of bronchiolitis.&amp;nbsp; Even with all that, he's been playing and smiling and refusing to nap until late in the game today.&amp;nbsp; Definitely acting like there's a sore throat in progress.&amp;nbsp; I'm a little concerned about it affecting his weight gain&amp;nbsp; which was progressing nicely.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know that it is inevitable, but I have a hard time with the illnesses...&amp;nbsp; that wheezy breathing makes my heart turn over.&amp;nbsp; Off to check on the patient...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24426977-1457230792588784688?l=susansamom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://susansamom.blogspot.com/feeds/1457230792588784688/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24426977&amp;postID=1457230792588784688" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24426977/posts/default/1457230792588784688?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24426977/posts/default/1457230792588784688?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://susansamom.blogspot.com/2011/11/doctor-doctor.html" title="Doctor, Doctor..." /><author><name>Susan S.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13652825503815118552</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0f7vDbVF0kM/SONtxYUBOmI/AAAAAAAAAVo/ANZivnPyHDc/S220/grass.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2NvuA45kZwo/TrGwJ1rzqxI/AAAAAAAABCU/yVTcxRfHfpc/s72-c/Red-Cross-Nurses.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A0UGSX0-fSp7ImA9WhRTEUQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24426977.post-5168503363013238815</id><published>2011-11-01T22:00:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-11-01T22:00:28.355-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-11-01T22:00:28.355-04:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="NaBloPoMo" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="writing" /><title>Just Because</title><content type="html">&lt;div&gt;
&lt;img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5670208784898152018" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xwIHXnHbnos/TrCg2QonVlI/AAAAAAAABCM/JcrxEiEPayM/s200/Albino%2Bseal.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 136px; margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; width: 200px;" /&gt;I've had this picture floating around for quite some time.  Thought we would start November with a clean slate and a funny/adorable pic!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I've been away from here for much longer than planned.  October ran away with me with Cub Scouts and karate classes, school and homework, chasing my youngest and his food issues...  All excuses, excuses.  If I honestly stop to think about it, I've been falling into my old perfectionist habits regarding my writing.  Wanting it to be perfect as it flows onto the page and allowing that to paralyze me.  I need a kickstart to allow myself to just be writing again, however imperfectly.  Many folks use November as National Blog Posting Month - &lt;a href="http://www.blogher.com/blogher-topics/blogging-social-media/nablopomo"&gt;NaBloPoMo&lt;/a&gt;.  Not sure if I have the gumption to "officially" sign on, but I thought I might set myself the challenge.  Here's to November!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
(This little fella is an orphaned albino seal.  If I remember correctly, he was found somewhere in Russia and was being cared for...  I've since lost any credits I had pertaining to the photo/story, and will add them if I (or someone else) can find/provide them.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24426977-5168503363013238815?l=susansamom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://susansamom.blogspot.com/feeds/5168503363013238815/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24426977&amp;postID=5168503363013238815" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24426977/posts/default/5168503363013238815?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24426977/posts/default/5168503363013238815?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://susansamom.blogspot.com/2011/11/just-because.html" title="Just Because" /><author><name>Susan S.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13652825503815118552</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0f7vDbVF0kM/SONtxYUBOmI/AAAAAAAAAVo/ANZivnPyHDc/S220/grass.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xwIHXnHbnos/TrCg2QonVlI/AAAAAAAABCM/JcrxEiEPayM/s72-c/Albino%2Bseal.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;Ck4ERH84eCp7ImA9WhdWGU4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24426977.post-7368909776220994618</id><published>2011-09-13T11:59:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-13T12:21:45.130-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-09-13T12:21:45.130-04:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="escape" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="books" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="family" /><title>Spiraling</title><content type="html">&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1E2W7OEFdxc/Tm9-SsxUamI/AAAAAAAABBg/fcGzdf5wGO0/s1600/Size-of-a-Black-Hole.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5651874917094025826" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1E2W7OEFdxc/Tm9-SsxUamI/AAAAAAAABBg/fcGzdf5wGO0/s200/Size-of-a-Black-Hole.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Fall is here! There's that crisp little bite to the air in the mornings and evenings (while our mid-days are still hovering in the 70s-80s...). I still don't feel like the parent of a 1st grader. Daniel seems to be adapting fairly well to school, although I've gotten comments about how it seems to be a &lt;em&gt;really&lt;/em&gt; long day. (Kindergarten was half-day.) We're still doing karate and considering Cub Scouts. And I'm finally getting to do a playgroup that is devoted to Ethan and not just a tagalong with his older brother event. In many ways we're rocking this new schedule. And yet...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What do you all do for, well... you? Don't get me wrong, I love my family dearly and wouldn't change a thing. H works his ass off so that I can be home with the kids. Between his work schedule and my spinning top household/kids schedule it often feels like we simply wave at each other before falling into bed at night. I'm wishing we could get to a movie or something that doesn't involve, say The Smurfs. And I find myself pondering the me that isn't attached to the labels we all have: daughter, sister, wife, mother... What fills you up, sparkles your rainbow, puts a Cheshire Cat grin on your face? I'm struggling to reconnect with that core of me a bit more of late. Lately it's involved some clandestine reading of my favorite fantasy &lt;a href="http://www.rachelcaine.com/Rachel_Caine_-_Writer/Home.html"&gt;authors&lt;/a&gt;, while swigging frozen lemonade. What do you do?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And could someone please come over and figure out where the clicker to my DVD player went when it vanished? Not sure if it's where the stray socks go, but it's been missing &lt;em&gt;forever&lt;/em&gt;...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24426977-7368909776220994618?l=susansamom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://susansamom.blogspot.com/feeds/7368909776220994618/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24426977&amp;postID=7368909776220994618" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24426977/posts/default/7368909776220994618?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24426977/posts/default/7368909776220994618?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://susansamom.blogspot.com/2011/09/spiraling.html" title="Spiraling" /><author><name>Susan S.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13652825503815118552</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0f7vDbVF0kM/SONtxYUBOmI/AAAAAAAAAVo/ANZivnPyHDc/S220/grass.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1E2W7OEFdxc/Tm9-SsxUamI/AAAAAAAABBg/fcGzdf5wGO0/s72-c/Size-of-a-Black-Hole.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A0MAQHs5fyp7ImA9WhdQEUw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24426977.post-6154247652761314666</id><published>2011-08-11T19:40:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2011-08-11T23:24:01.527-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-08-11T23:24:01.527-04:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="health" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="worry" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="baby" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="food" /><title>The Other Side of the Scale</title><content type="html">&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hGS08XkzqMY/TkRo99wvUeI/AAAAAAAABAQ/SDsHbfjSIto/s1600/baby%2Bscale.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5639748047135003106" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hGS08XkzqMY/TkRo99wvUeI/AAAAAAAABAQ/SDsHbfjSIto/s200/baby%2Bscale.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;It's everywhere: talk of the obesity epidemic in children, campaigns to improve school lunches... even one memorable article I read somewhere where someone was advocating taking obese children away from their parents. So I've felt a bit adrift recently after Ethan's one year pedi appointment where we found out that he had bottomed off the chart where weight is concerned. My reactions have skipped willy-nilly from &lt;em&gt;"They must think I don't feed this kid..."&lt;/em&gt; to &lt;em&gt;"What if there's something terribly wrong?"&lt;/em&gt; We were drawing blood anyway for the lead test, and so the pediatrician checked a number of things, 98% of which were fine. Low protein and low IGA resulted in a referral to a pediatric gastoenterologist.
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;That appointment seemed pretty anti-climactic (take a history, and yup - he seems pretty healthy) and resulted in an appointment with a nutritionist. Long story short, we're massively striving to find ways to get extra calories into this kid. I add a teaspoon of canola oil to every meal. Push proteins, fats, dairy, avocado, cheeses, butter - anything I can think of to give his calories a boost. We just had our followup appointments, and yay he gained .7 pounds! If we were pushing calories and he weren't responding we'd have to look at other problems, such as celiac disease. But I think we're headed in the right direction. Honestly, I think he's so busy/active that he doesn't pay attention to food cues. Rather than let him lead I'm going to have to be stricter about plunking him down and insisting that &lt;em&gt;"We're eating now."&lt;/em&gt; Still roughly 2 pounds to go to get back on the charts...
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24426977-6154247652761314666?l=susansamom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://susansamom.blogspot.com/feeds/6154247652761314666/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24426977&amp;postID=6154247652761314666" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24426977/posts/default/6154247652761314666?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24426977/posts/default/6154247652761314666?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://susansamom.blogspot.com/2011/08/other-side-of-scale.html" title="The Other Side of the Scale" /><author><name>Susan S.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13652825503815118552</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0f7vDbVF0kM/SONtxYUBOmI/AAAAAAAAAVo/ANZivnPyHDc/S220/grass.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hGS08XkzqMY/TkRo99wvUeI/AAAAAAAABAQ/SDsHbfjSIto/s72-c/baby%2Bscale.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C0UMSHc6cSp7ImA9WhdRE0k.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24426977.post-393843921904938890</id><published>2011-08-02T23:06:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2011-08-02T23:14:49.919-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-08-02T23:14:49.919-04:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="movies" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="escape" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="TV" /><title>Overture, Curtains, Lights...</title><content type="html">&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-fy916UF3D44/Tji7nQOwXaI/AAAAAAAABAI/Ll-0qs_xu3I/s1600/cowboys_and_aliens03.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5636461216700325282" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-fy916UF3D44/Tji7nQOwXaI/AAAAAAAABAI/Ll-0qs_xu3I/s200/cowboys_and_aliens03.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I miss movies. Daniel is finally of an age where he would sit through one in a theater, but I highly doubt we could get away with having a 1 year old there as well. A good action / escape flick like &lt;em&gt;Cowboys &amp;amp; Aliens&lt;/em&gt; sounds great about now. H may try to take Daniel and his cousin Nicholas to the Drive-In in the near future. A great summer adventure!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wonder if I can get away with making popcorn while I am up at 3am with the little guy surfing the On Demand selections on cable?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24426977-393843921904938890?l=susansamom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://susansamom.blogspot.com/feeds/393843921904938890/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24426977&amp;postID=393843921904938890" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24426977/posts/default/393843921904938890?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24426977/posts/default/393843921904938890?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://susansamom.blogspot.com/2011/08/overture-curtains-lights.html" title="Overture, Curtains, Lights..." /><author><name>Susan S.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13652825503815118552</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0f7vDbVF0kM/SONtxYUBOmI/AAAAAAAAAVo/ANZivnPyHDc/S220/grass.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-fy916UF3D44/Tji7nQOwXaI/AAAAAAAABAI/Ll-0qs_xu3I/s72-c/cowboys_and_aliens03.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkQBR3g4fCp7ImA9WhdREkg.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24426977.post-7755797547870151949</id><published>2011-08-01T23:53:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2011-08-02T00:12:36.634-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-08-02T00:12:36.634-04:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="bedtime" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="sleeping" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="baby" /><title>To Sleep...</title><content type="html">&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-UBEX0NfCECw/Tjd2zIYXxpI/AAAAAAAABAA/1seMCGHfgw0/s1600/MoreSleepPlease.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5636104079472576146" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-UBEX0NfCECw/Tjd2zIYXxpI/AAAAAAAABAA/1seMCGHfgw0/s200/MoreSleepPlease.gif" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Sleep training sucks. I know I created this monster, and that it will take some time to undo it, but Holy Cow. Sleep training. Sucks. My eyeballs feel like they've been rolled in Tabasco Sauce, kicked around in some beach sand awhile, and been popped back in my forehead a little too close together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ethan spent the first two days at home with us sleeping in his crib. Then refused altogether. We slept awhile in a bouncy chair, and then it was co-sleeping. He is so mobile now that none of us were getting proper sleep. Well, perhaps he was until he pulled himself off the end of the bed one morning before I woke up. And I knew it was time. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This past week has taken me back to those newborn months of waking round the clock for feedings. It's like the kid has some sort of internal gyroscope. He can be sound asleep and the very act of trying to lay him in his crib has him awake and shrieking. Tonight is the very first night that he went into the crib with only a whimper. Please, please let this be the start of a trend! I am off to bed!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24426977-7755797547870151949?l=susansamom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://susansamom.blogspot.com/feeds/7755797547870151949/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24426977&amp;postID=7755797547870151949" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24426977/posts/default/7755797547870151949?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24426977/posts/default/7755797547870151949?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://susansamom.blogspot.com/2011/08/to-sleep.html" title="To Sleep..." /><author><name>Susan S.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13652825503815118552</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0f7vDbVF0kM/SONtxYUBOmI/AAAAAAAAAVo/ANZivnPyHDc/S220/grass.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-UBEX0NfCECw/Tjd2zIYXxpI/AAAAAAAABAA/1seMCGHfgw0/s72-c/MoreSleepPlease.gif" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CEcFQ3gzeCp7ImA9WhdSGUw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24426977.post-6543967228355742201</id><published>2011-07-28T23:37:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2011-07-29T00:00:12.680-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-07-29T00:00:12.680-04:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="bedtime" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="family" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="baby" /><title>Daze</title><content type="html">&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-d5Tsn1oeLrI/TjIr6HYr7RI/AAAAAAAAA_o/BZK0PDTXsrQ/s1600/220px-WarrenStatueGettysburg.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 156px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5634614361208909074" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-d5Tsn1oeLrI/TjIr6HYr7RI/AAAAAAAAA_o/BZK0PDTXsrQ/s200/220px-WarrenStatueGettysburg.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;So Daniel's kindergarten adventure ended with one of those fun school programs. You know the kind - they're equal parts being proud of your kid showing off what he's learned, signing songs and so forth and equal parts getting hysterical over the antics of umpteen 5 and 6 year-olds packed into risers and hamming it up. Our local high school even taped the production and so Grandma and Grandpa got a chance to see it via DVD.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For a relatively unscheduled summer, we've somehow gotten awfully busy. Immediately following the kindergarten graduation, we set out for Gettysburg. It was a trip we had planned for earlier in the year, except that H's back had gone out on him and we weren't able to travel in early May. If you're at all into history and the Civil War, Gettysburg is a fascinating town with loads of stuff to see and do. Just for fun, we stepped into one of those photography studios and got an "old time" photograph of our family.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A trip to Grandma and Grandpa's place in Wisconsin almost didn't happen after Daniel came down with a stomach bug right beforehand. Last thing we would need was 2 days driving with barfy kids (or adults). In the end, we crossed our fingers and set out. Ethan was feverish for the 4th of July (an old-time, small-town parade - great fun!). A relaxing and fun time was had by all, until Grandma fell ill with the bug right before our departure. Thank goodness we all have stayed well since.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the meantime my baby turned 1 this month! My big boy will turn 6 in August, and (pinch me!) will be starting 1st Grade in the Fall. I am hunkering down to sleep train the little man, and hope to come out of Zombie, No Sleep Land before school starts. Off to bed!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24426977-6543967228355742201?l=susansamom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://susansamom.blogspot.com/feeds/6543967228355742201/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24426977&amp;postID=6543967228355742201" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24426977/posts/default/6543967228355742201?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24426977/posts/default/6543967228355742201?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://susansamom.blogspot.com/2011/07/daze.html" title="Daze" /><author><name>Susan S.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13652825503815118552</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0f7vDbVF0kM/SONtxYUBOmI/AAAAAAAAAVo/ANZivnPyHDc/S220/grass.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-d5Tsn1oeLrI/TjIr6HYr7RI/AAAAAAAAA_o/BZK0PDTXsrQ/s72-c/220px-WarrenStatueGettysburg.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkQNRH08fSp7ImA9WhZUEUg.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24426977.post-3672699750530198638</id><published>2011-06-03T23:18:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2011-06-03T23:33:15.375-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-06-03T23:33:15.375-04:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="stress" /><title>Hoo Boy!</title><content type="html">&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-oHEjZPbm65A/TemkwaA2djI/AAAAAAAAA94/lFG2v6eKutE/s1600/bees.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5614199562017601074" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-oHEjZPbm65A/TemkwaA2djI/AAAAAAAAA94/lFG2v6eKutE/s200/bees.bmp" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I've been single parenting this week, and holy crow am I tired! My place looks like a bomb went off in it - no way could I ever have ANY visitors over the state it is now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We seem to have finally ironed out the 5 (almost 6) year old's sleeping challenges, only to have the 10 month old start to develop them. Lack of sleep makes Mommy patience in much less supply.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And yet, the oldest has gotten to school every day. Kids are fed, and seem reasonable happy even if the younger is grumping at me in the middle of the night. For my part I have developed an even greater appreciation for those folks who go it on their own all the time. And I'm upping my efforts to keep the coming summer as busy as I possibly can.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24426977-3672699750530198638?l=susansamom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://susansamom.blogspot.com/feeds/3672699750530198638/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24426977&amp;postID=3672699750530198638" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24426977/posts/default/3672699750530198638?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24426977/posts/default/3672699750530198638?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://susansamom.blogspot.com/2011/06/hoo-boy.html" title="Hoo Boy!" /><author><name>Susan S.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13652825503815118552</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0f7vDbVF0kM/SONtxYUBOmI/AAAAAAAAAVo/ANZivnPyHDc/S220/grass.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-oHEjZPbm65A/TemkwaA2djI/AAAAAAAAA94/lFG2v6eKutE/s72-c/bees.bmp" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DkUBQns9cCp7ImA9WhZVGEo.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24426977.post-3678921023664714228</id><published>2011-05-31T16:21:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2011-05-31T16:37:33.568-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-05-31T16:37:33.568-04:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="books" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="review" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="blogher" /><title>Discover Strange New Worlds...</title><content type="html">&lt;!-- BEGIN BHBadge --&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="bhbadge" id="bhbadge_BookClub" style="display: inline;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogher.com/deborah-harkness-discovers-fantasy-smarties?from=bookclub?from=bhbadge" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.blogher.com/files/bookclub_badge_v2.jpg" border="0" alt="BlogHer Book Club Reviewer" title="BlogHer Book Club Reviewer" width="160" height="150"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;!-- END BHBadge --&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mother has always said that I could talk, almost before I could walk. In first grade they were bumping me up to second grade for reading because I had done everything they were working on already. By junior high I had burned through anything I had even remotely considered interesting in the school library. Books were always a good birthday gift, but people were hard-pressed to find something I hadn't already devoured.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Did I mention I like to read?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fantasy is a particular favorite of mine, and so I was thrilled to be offered the chance to review Deborah &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Harkness&lt;/span&gt;' latest book: A &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;Discovery&lt;/span&gt; of Witches through the &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Blogher&lt;/span&gt;.com Book Club. My review just went live today. Click the link above, and hop over and check it out!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24426977-3678921023664714228?l=susansamom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://susansamom.blogspot.com/feeds/3678921023664714228/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24426977&amp;postID=3678921023664714228" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24426977/posts/default/3678921023664714228?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24426977/posts/default/3678921023664714228?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://susansamom.blogspot.com/2011/05/discover-strange-new-worlds.html" title="Discover Strange New Worlds..." /><author><name>Susan S.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13652825503815118552</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0f7vDbVF0kM/SONtxYUBOmI/AAAAAAAAAVo/ANZivnPyHDc/S220/grass.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEYMQn44eip7ImA9WhZVEUo.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24426977.post-7418465229552909110</id><published>2011-05-23T14:39:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2011-05-23T14:43:03.032-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-05-23T14:43:03.032-04:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="relishing the dirt" /><title>Pay it Forward</title><content type="html">&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8MKaxVK-Avk/TdqqoWu9LnI/AAAAAAAAA9s/Xi_NOtpfMQs/s1600/dollar_sign_thumb.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 182px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5609983896117390962" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8MKaxVK-Avk/TdqqoWu9LnI/AAAAAAAAA9s/Xi_NOtpfMQs/s200/dollar_sign_thumb.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Hop next door to &lt;a href="http://www.relishingthedirt.blogspot.com/"&gt;Relishing the Dirt &lt;/a&gt;and find out how to win $50 for the organization of your choice.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24426977-7418465229552909110?l=susansamom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://susansamom.blogspot.com/feeds/7418465229552909110/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24426977&amp;postID=7418465229552909110" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24426977/posts/default/7418465229552909110?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24426977/posts/default/7418465229552909110?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://susansamom.blogspot.com/2011/05/pay-it-forward.html" title="Pay it Forward" /><author><name>Susan S.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13652825503815118552</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0f7vDbVF0kM/SONtxYUBOmI/AAAAAAAAAVo/ANZivnPyHDc/S220/grass.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8MKaxVK-Avk/TdqqoWu9LnI/AAAAAAAAA9s/Xi_NOtpfMQs/s72-c/dollar_sign_thumb.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DE4MRXs8fSp7ImA9WhZXF04.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24426977.post-6829413575218887373</id><published>2011-05-06T14:09:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2011-05-06T22:56:24.575-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-05-06T22:56:24.575-04:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="escape" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="health" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="family" /><title>Mobile Me, Mobile You</title><content type="html">&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SwU79omuDCM/TcQ5pRed4uI/AAAAAAAAA9U/NFt0O7rqDzw/s1600/babyboycrawl.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 150px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 123px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5603667217584349922" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SwU79omuDCM/TcQ5pRed4uI/AAAAAAAAA9U/NFt0O7rqDzw/s200/babyboycrawl.bmp" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;So the little guy is just so,&lt;em&gt; so&lt;/em&gt; close to being able to get around to everything on his own. He figured out early on that rolling was a pretty handy way to get from here to there, and I could put him down in the living room and find him steadily making his way to the kitchen (&lt;em&gt;front, back, front, back&lt;/em&gt;). Now he can sit, and has a pretty steady push-up going with his arms. He can even do a bit of that modified sort of army, belly crawl using his arms... His little bottom will occasionally scooch in the air, but the front and back ends aren't quite coordinated together yet for actual crawling. I think I need to start baby-proofing soon. As we all know, a 5-year-old's toys usually come with itty-bitty parts (thank you Star Wars figures!).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While Ethan is learning how to be mobile, H suddenly isn't. He threw out his back earlier this week. There was a point where I was debating the need for an ambulance to get him out of the house as he was having trouble getting up from the floor. Prescription painkillers and muscle relaxers later, and he is &lt;em&gt;ouching&lt;/em&gt; his way around the house. Not better, but somewhat bearable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need to be seen for possible hip bursitis, as my hip pain that started during pregnancy has never exactly left me. So, while us old-timers envy the baby his elastic little body that lets him roll in a ball and nibble on his own toes - Spring may have finally sprung. The trees are painted a delicate green. The farm stands are open. I'm looking forward to being out in it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24426977-6829413575218887373?l=susansamom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://susansamom.blogspot.com/feeds/6829413575218887373/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24426977&amp;postID=6829413575218887373" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24426977/posts/default/6829413575218887373?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24426977/posts/default/6829413575218887373?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://susansamom.blogspot.com/2011/05/mobile-me-mobile-you.html" title="Mobile Me, Mobile You" /><author><name>Susan S.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13652825503815118552</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0f7vDbVF0kM/SONtxYUBOmI/AAAAAAAAAVo/ANZivnPyHDc/S220/grass.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SwU79omuDCM/TcQ5pRed4uI/AAAAAAAAA9U/NFt0O7rqDzw/s72-c/babyboycrawl.bmp" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C0MDSX4-cCp7ImA9WhZQGEk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24426977.post-6486268961598155106</id><published>2011-04-26T13:59:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2011-04-26T14:11:18.058-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-04-26T14:11:18.058-04:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="health" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="family" /><title>Sheesh!</title><content type="html">&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8R627abL1EI/TbcJkRg0aeI/AAAAAAAAA8k/WAMwtIXtpFk/s1600/413px-Glasswing_butterfly_Panama.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 138px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5599955180439497186" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8R627abL1EI/TbcJkRg0aeI/AAAAAAAAA8k/WAMwtIXtpFk/s200/413px-Glasswing_butterfly_Panama.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;So we had been in the midst of a lovely visit from The Grandparents. On the way back from an excursion to &lt;a href="http://butterflyplace-ma.com/"&gt;The Butterfly Place&lt;/a&gt; I heard those dreaded words: &lt;em&gt;Mommy, my tummy hurts&lt;/em&gt;. Now Daniel has been known to get the random cold or fourteen, so hearing this usually means one of two things. My picky eater hasn't eaten enough today, or he has to go to the bathroom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Usually.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You probably guessed it. The stomach bug. When Grandma and Grandpa flew some 1200 miles for a visit. Luckily five-year-olds bounce pretty quickly, and about a day and a half later he was recovered. Didn't even miss school. And than H got it. And then I got it. The only one not to get it (thank goodness) was Ethan who of course was teething at the time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know it's inevitable, especially when you have children. They get sick, you get sick... but man. I have not figured out how to be both Mom and the patient at the same time. Especially at this point - breastfeeding and a stomach virus do not mix well. And I've been playing catch up (at least it feels that way) ever since. Behind on pretty much everything I can point a finger at. But - Hi Everyone! Back on the blog! Hopefully to write much more frequently!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24426977-6486268961598155106?l=susansamom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://susansamom.blogspot.com/feeds/6486268961598155106/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24426977&amp;postID=6486268961598155106" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24426977/posts/default/6486268961598155106?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24426977/posts/default/6486268961598155106?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://susansamom.blogspot.com/2011/04/sheesh.html" title="Sheesh!" /><author><name>Susan S.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13652825503815118552</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0f7vDbVF0kM/SONtxYUBOmI/AAAAAAAAAVo/ANZivnPyHDc/S220/grass.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8R627abL1EI/TbcJkRg0aeI/AAAAAAAAA8k/WAMwtIXtpFk/s72-c/413px-Glasswing_butterfly_Panama.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CEACQ3w_fCp7ImA9WhZTE0s.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24426977.post-4429195014678784652</id><published>2011-03-17T07:34:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2011-03-17T07:52:42.244-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-03-17T07:52:42.244-04:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="escape" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="moods" /><title>Unhibernation</title><content type="html">&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-uh4gBTQlJhs/TYHx3yfMfZI/AAAAAAAAA7M/fznUY7Np0J4/s1600/hibernation.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 120px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585010953663839634" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-uh4gBTQlJhs/TYHx3yfMfZI/AAAAAAAAA7M/fznUY7Np0J4/s200/hibernation.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Whoo! I've been away from this space for far too long.  This winter has done a number on me it seems, and I hesitated to come to the blog simply to complain, complain, complain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First it was snow upon snow upon snow.  A friend had to evacuate her condo one weekend due to a roof collapse.  Luckily it was not her unit and she was back after only a few days.  Some other friends had such a problem with ice dams on their roof that they developed leaks in their kitchen and had their front door frozen shut one day.  For the first time ever our condo complex posted notices requesting people to try and shovel their decks so they wouldn't be compromised by the weight of the snow.  H had to squeeze out the storm window on the screen door to get out there and remove all the white stuff.  We lost our front awning due to heavy snow another day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Compounding my feeling forced-inside-ness was our ability to pick up any little germ floating around our family.  One of the last colds left the baby with his first ear infection.  The 10-day course of Amoxicillin also left him with the most wicked case of diaper rash you ever did see.  It's taken weeks to kick it, and I never thought I would be so versed in bum-creams - prescription and otherwise.  The poor kid has finally stopped looking like he's sitting on a sunburn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While Daylight Savings Time has done a number on all our sleep schedules, I'm finally feeling like we've turned a corner.  It's lighter, later.  I think the official calendar start of Spring is this weekend.  While there's still snow on the ground, the towering, vision-obscuring snowpiles have diminished.  It's supposed to get near 60 degrees the next few days.  I'm breathing a little easier.  How about you?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24426977-4429195014678784652?l=susansamom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://susansamom.blogspot.com/feeds/4429195014678784652/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24426977&amp;postID=4429195014678784652" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24426977/posts/default/4429195014678784652?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24426977/posts/default/4429195014678784652?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://susansamom.blogspot.com/2011/03/unhibernation.html" title="Unhibernation" /><author><name>Susan S.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13652825503815118552</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0f7vDbVF0kM/SONtxYUBOmI/AAAAAAAAAVo/ANZivnPyHDc/S220/grass.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-uh4gBTQlJhs/TYHx3yfMfZI/AAAAAAAAA7M/fznUY7Np0J4/s72-c/hibernation.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DU4NQ309fCp7ImA9Wx9VEU4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24426977.post-6553263136598258051</id><published>2011-01-27T09:06:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2011-01-27T09:19:52.364-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-01-27T09:19:52.364-05:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="bedtime" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="sleeping" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="cold" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="baby" /><title>Uncle</title><content type="html">&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0f7vDbVF0kM/TUF8Q0514CI/AAAAAAAAA5I/F3YjOQoKZnQ/s1600/Boxing%2BBell.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5566867242927644706" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0f7vDbVF0kM/TUF8Q0514CI/AAAAAAAAA5I/F3YjOQoKZnQ/s200/Boxing%2BBell.bmp" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;How do I do this again? We keep adding new wrinkles to this "sleep in a crib" business.  Ethan has slept in the darn thing, but the slightest peep around the house wakes him up.  The other day?  When I (oops) let him fall asleep in the chair?  Big Brother Daniel could run screaming from one end of our little condo to the other, and Ethan hardly twitched a muscle.  I think the circles under my eyes are developing circles from all the up and down, interrupted sleep.  I want to grit my teeth and power through this, but I think I'm getting a little loopy from the incomplete sleep schedules.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And Ah, lovely New England has gifted us with what the news has called the 6th storm in as many weeks.  I'm not sure, I've stopped keeping count.  We're at 60+ inches of snow which is more than the average for an entire season.  And it's January.  I cry Uncle!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24426977-6553263136598258051?l=susansamom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://susansamom.blogspot.com/feeds/6553263136598258051/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24426977&amp;postID=6553263136598258051" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24426977/posts/default/6553263136598258051?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24426977/posts/default/6553263136598258051?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://susansamom.blogspot.com/2011/01/uncle.html" title="Uncle" /><author><name>Susan S.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13652825503815118552</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0f7vDbVF0kM/SONtxYUBOmI/AAAAAAAAAVo/ANZivnPyHDc/S220/grass.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0f7vDbVF0kM/TUF8Q0514CI/AAAAAAAAA5I/F3YjOQoKZnQ/s72-c/Boxing%2BBell.bmp" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkANRHozfSp7ImA9Wx9WEUk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24426977.post-2354101363937437092</id><published>2011-01-15T22:16:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2011-01-15T22:33:15.485-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-01-15T22:33:15.485-05:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="bedtime" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="sleeping" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="baby" /><title>Sleepless in New England</title><content type="html">&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0f7vDbVF0kM/TTJjZusaWoI/AAAAAAAAA4s/VgGCkMCL6Rc/s1600/birthday%2Bcandles.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 160px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5562617783438170754" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0f7vDbVF0kM/TTJjZusaWoI/AAAAAAAAA4s/VgGCkMCL6Rc/s200/birthday%2Bcandles.bmp" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Ethan celebrated his half birthday this week. I blinked, and it's been six months!  We marked the occasion with a pediatrician appointment.  All good positive news on height and weight and so forth, except for the dreaded words.  &lt;em&gt;You've really got to get him in a crib.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From early on the kid expressed an extreme dislike of his crib.  I quickly found out that he loved the little chair that used to be Daniel's and that he would sleep like a champ in that...  Pop him in the chair, park him next to our bed, pull out the foot and recline him back and poof!  Problem solved.  I was getting pretty jealous? possessive? of the lovely sleep I was getting, and so I delayed moving him to his bed.  The doctor expressed some safety concerns as he is getting more mobile all the time, and so on top of the three shots trauma Mommy decided it was time to be sleeping in the crib.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Night #1 was brutal.  Hours of 10 minutes wailing in the crib, 10 minutes of Mommy holding and comforting, 1o minutes of crib crying, 10 minutes of Mommy soothing.  Poor kid was so exhausted that he would fall asleep immediately in my arms when I picked him up.  But as soon as his back hit the mattress - &lt;em&gt;Wahhh!&lt;/em&gt;  I think we slept from about 1am  - 5:30am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Night #2 was a vast improvement.  Maybe 20 minutes of back and forth with one wakeup in the middle of the night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had our last feeding of the evening tonight and I just put him down in his crib.  He kicked hard for a minute and then turned his face toward the wall and just seemed to go to sleep.  Could it be??  I'm hoping for a better night's sleep for all.  And maybe now I can stop feeling like the Wicked Witch of the West...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24426977-2354101363937437092?l=susansamom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://susansamom.blogspot.com/feeds/2354101363937437092/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24426977&amp;postID=2354101363937437092" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24426977/posts/default/2354101363937437092?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24426977/posts/default/2354101363937437092?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://susansamom.blogspot.com/2011/01/sleepless-in-new-england.html" title="Sleepless in New England" /><author><name>Susan S.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13652825503815118552</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0f7vDbVF0kM/SONtxYUBOmI/AAAAAAAAAVo/ANZivnPyHDc/S220/grass.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0f7vDbVF0kM/TTJjZusaWoI/AAAAAAAAA4s/VgGCkMCL6Rc/s72-c/birthday%2Bcandles.bmp" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C0QBSH44eCp7ImA9Wx9TEEg.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24426977.post-2213440046155708057</id><published>2010-11-17T22:26:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-11-17T22:35:59.030-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-11-17T22:35:59.030-05:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="health" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="baby" /><title>sick, sick, sick</title><content type="html">&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0f7vDbVF0kM/TOSdXPmmoLI/AAAAAAAAA2s/AVmBTXAXS_s/s1600/COUGH.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 168px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5540726464223551666" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0f7vDbVF0kM/TOSdXPmmoLI/AAAAAAAAA2s/AVmBTXAXS_s/s200/COUGH.bmp" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I know it's inevitable, with two kids and a hubby who works outside in all kinds of weather. But I can't help but cringe as one of us starts to get sick.  Daniel had a slight cough Saturday night which has morphed into the whole tribe of us sneezing and coughing at all hours.  A random fever moves through the house occasionally, but only seems to strike at night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is on top of my feeling fairly certain that Ethan has started teething.  The kid is gnawing on anything he can get his hands on - and even just his hands if nothing else is available.  He's normally so even-tempered and smiley that the crying jag we just had tonight tears at my heart.  We have a regularly scheduled doctor's appointment tomorrow, so hopefully I can get some advice.  I'm pretty sure I blocked Daniel's teething from my memory...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24426977-2213440046155708057?l=susansamom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://susansamom.blogspot.com/feeds/2213440046155708057/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24426977&amp;postID=2213440046155708057" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24426977/posts/default/2213440046155708057?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24426977/posts/default/2213440046155708057?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://susansamom.blogspot.com/2010/11/sick-sick-sick.html" title="sick, sick, sick" /><author><name>Susan S.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13652825503815118552</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0f7vDbVF0kM/SONtxYUBOmI/AAAAAAAAAVo/ANZivnPyHDc/S220/grass.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0f7vDbVF0kM/TOSdXPmmoLI/AAAAAAAAA2s/AVmBTXAXS_s/s72-c/COUGH.bmp" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEcNRXo4fip7ImA9Wx5aFEw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24426977.post-4195053118698497438</id><published>2010-11-10T14:01:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-11-10T14:08:14.436-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-11-10T14:08:14.436-05:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="oddities" /><title>A Numbers Game</title><content type="html">&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0f7vDbVF0kM/TNrsa75x_2I/AAAAAAAAA2U/ROZ2PKg2Ucw/s1600/fortune%2Bcookie.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 179px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5537998639306243938" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0f7vDbVF0kM/TNrsa75x_2I/AAAAAAAAA2U/ROZ2PKg2Ucw/s200/fortune%2Bcookie.bmp" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Ever have special numbers that just keep popping into your life? I'm amazed by the ones I've been noticing that crop up around birthdays.  My husband H's family has a rash of birthdays all on the first of various months.  He also shares his birthday - April 1st - with his oldest sister.  There is the &lt;a href="http://www.fox10tv.com/dpps/news/strange_news/ohio-baby-born-on-8-9-10-at-11-12-ob10-jgr_3543143"&gt;Ohio baby girl&lt;/a&gt; who was born on 8/9/10 at 11:12pm.  And for the next few years we will have the possibility of kids born on 10/10/10, 11/11/11 and 12/12/12...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've taken to calling my boys "The 13 brothers" as they were born on August 13th and July 13th respectively.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What about you?  Maybe we should be considering some lottery tickets...  I'm putting in a bid for Lucky Number 13!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24426977-4195053118698497438?l=susansamom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://susansamom.blogspot.com/feeds/4195053118698497438/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24426977&amp;postID=4195053118698497438" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24426977/posts/default/4195053118698497438?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24426977/posts/default/4195053118698497438?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://susansamom.blogspot.com/2010/11/numbers-game.html" title="A Numbers Game" /><author><name>Susan S.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13652825503815118552</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0f7vDbVF0kM/SONtxYUBOmI/AAAAAAAAAVo/ANZivnPyHDc/S220/grass.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0f7vDbVF0kM/TNrsa75x_2I/AAAAAAAAA2U/ROZ2PKg2Ucw/s72-c/fortune%2Bcookie.bmp" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;Ck8CRXY8cSp7ImA9Wx5bGUs.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24426977.post-2136036472531984835</id><published>2010-11-05T08:19:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2010-11-05T08:41:04.879-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-11-05T08:41:04.879-04:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="life" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="family" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="moods" /><title>Slippage</title><content type="html">&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0f7vDbVF0kM/TNP2yjqJPrI/AAAAAAAAA2I/ijn3UQmcYqc/s1600/rockheart.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5536039715394371250" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0f7vDbVF0kM/TNP2yjqJPrI/AAAAAAAAA2I/ijn3UQmcYqc/s200/rockheart.bmp" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Okay, where did October go?  Some days I'm a &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;rockstar&lt;/span&gt; Mama and I feel as though I've got this two-kid thing down.  And then other days it's just not working and I'm looking for a do-over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Remember when you were little and summer seemed to last forever?  Days of racing out the back door to go ride bikes through the neighborhood, or go swim in the lake.  Freeze tag and cookouts, and one lazy afternoon a friend and I read books in the crook of a couple of tree branches with the breeze filtering through the leaves and our hair.  The arrival of Fall and school was always a little bit of a surprise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, I blinked, and suddenly H and I were celebrating our 10&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; Anniversary at the end of last month.  I blinked and here I am, Mom of two blond, blue-eyed boys.  One is a 5 year old and the other is a 4 month old cherub - who fill my life with more energy and mischief than I would have thought possible.  I guess I'm keenly feeling the passage of time, of late.  This was probably helped along by the discovery of some video of Daniel at the approximate age Ethan is now.  All adorable, all good stuff...  concrete evidence of the march of time.  It leaves me a bit tender, and so as I struggle with the time to sit and write at my blog I also fumble for the words.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24426977-2136036472531984835?l=susansamom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://susansamom.blogspot.com/feeds/2136036472531984835/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24426977&amp;postID=2136036472531984835" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24426977/posts/default/2136036472531984835?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24426977/posts/default/2136036472531984835?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://susansamom.blogspot.com/2010/11/slippage.html" title="Slippage" /><author><name>Susan S.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13652825503815118552</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0f7vDbVF0kM/SONtxYUBOmI/AAAAAAAAAVo/ANZivnPyHDc/S220/grass.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0f7vDbVF0kM/TNP2yjqJPrI/AAAAAAAAA2I/ijn3UQmcYqc/s72-c/rockheart.bmp" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUcDRHw4cCp7ImA9Wx5XF08.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24426977.post-635899317174252954</id><published>2010-09-17T07:02:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2010-09-17T07:31:15.238-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-09-17T07:31:15.238-04:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="stress" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="family" /><title>Just a Jab</title><content type="html">&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0f7vDbVF0kM/TJNLfDIVfYI/AAAAAAAAAzw/2cMvwfxnCa4/s1600/needle.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5517836965247286658" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0f7vDbVF0kM/TJNLfDIVfYI/AAAAAAAAAzw/2cMvwfxnCa4/s200/needle.bmp" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;How do you help your little ones handle shots? We had Daniel's 5 year appointment yesterday and I spent the whole time fielding the question over and over:  &lt;em&gt;Is this just a checkup, or am I going to get a shot?&lt;/em&gt;  This was compounded by the fact that his pediatrician was running late and the poor kid was sitting in the exam room, on the table in his underwear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't know whether we were caught up on shots or not, and we certainly have the flu shot coming up...  so the best I could do was to say &lt;em&gt;I don't know&lt;/em&gt;.  Lying would have been comforting in the moment, but would have caught up with me in the end.  I tried several other tactics, such as &lt;em&gt;shots are meant to keep us healthy...&lt;/em&gt;  &lt;em&gt;it's really quick, and it's done...&lt;/em&gt;  and the capper:  &lt;em&gt;Poor Ethan will have to get a lot of shots coming up, you're just getting one.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No shots yesterday, although Daniel now knows that the flu shot is coming.  I'm hoping it will be alleviated by the fact that Mommy has to get one too.  Daniel is voting that I should go first.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24426977-635899317174252954?l=susansamom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://susansamom.blogspot.com/feeds/635899317174252954/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24426977&amp;postID=635899317174252954" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24426977/posts/default/635899317174252954?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24426977/posts/default/635899317174252954?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://susansamom.blogspot.com/2010/09/just-jab.html" title="Just a Jab" /><author><name>Susan S.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13652825503815118552</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0f7vDbVF0kM/SONtxYUBOmI/AAAAAAAAAVo/ANZivnPyHDc/S220/grass.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0f7vDbVF0kM/TJNLfDIVfYI/AAAAAAAAAzw/2cMvwfxnCa4/s72-c/needle.bmp" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DkIMRnw9eyp7ImA9Wx5QE0Q.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24426977.post-9028737135959247796</id><published>2010-09-01T22:19:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2010-09-01T22:29:47.263-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-09-01T22:29:47.263-04:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="family" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="baby" /><title>Tag Team Parenting</title><content type="html">&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0f7vDbVF0kM/TH8KaxTn9SI/AAAAAAAAAzE/WF1_boAgMZk/s1600/relay.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 133px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5512135923953300770" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0f7vDbVF0kM/TH8KaxTn9SI/AAAAAAAAAzE/WF1_boAgMZk/s200/relay.bmp" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Long before Ethan arrived, I sort of wondered how it would go this going from one to two kids. It's felt a little odd. I mean, I've been blessed to be able to stay home with my children and for so long my focus has just been Daniel.  Suddenly I'm back to the beginning with diapers and feedings and that special kind of attentiveness that comes from a little one needing you so much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At five years old, Daniel is Mr. Independent and I can ask him to help me, or do things for himself like getting dressed.  And that's a definite relief.  Yet by the end of the day I'm so very grateful for H's arrival home from work.  He can wrangle the five year old, and help him burn off some of that boy-energy while I take care of the little one.  A side effect of this tag team method, however is that H complains that he needs more time with Ethan, while I often feel like I am neglecting Daniel.  Still working to find that balance, I guess.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24426977-9028737135959247796?l=susansamom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://susansamom.blogspot.com/feeds/9028737135959247796/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24426977&amp;postID=9028737135959247796" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24426977/posts/default/9028737135959247796?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24426977/posts/default/9028737135959247796?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://susansamom.blogspot.com/2010/09/tag-team-parenting.html" title="Tag Team Parenting" /><author><name>Susan S.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13652825503815118552</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0f7vDbVF0kM/SONtxYUBOmI/AAAAAAAAAVo/ANZivnPyHDc/S220/grass.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0f7vDbVF0kM/TH8KaxTn9SI/AAAAAAAAAzE/WF1_boAgMZk/s72-c/relay.bmp" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C08HQXs9fyp7ImA9Wx5REk8.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24426977.post-8408703442892859801</id><published>2010-08-19T08:41:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2010-08-19T08:43:50.567-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-08-19T08:43:50.567-04:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="bedtime" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="baby" /><title>Enough Said...</title><content type="html">&lt;a href="http://www.amazon.com/Sleep-Weak-Mommybloggers-Including-Finslippy/dp/1556527721/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&amp;amp;s=books&amp;amp;qid=1282221767&amp;amp;sr=8-1"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5507100396287581554" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0f7vDbVF0kM/TG0moe8iXXI/AAAAAAAAAyo/mmJTnJXu4zQ/s200/Sleep.bmp" /&gt;Best of the Mommybloggers&lt;/a&gt;...  and my mantra of the moment.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24426977-8408703442892859801?l=susansamom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://susansamom.blogspot.com/feeds/8408703442892859801/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24426977&amp;postID=8408703442892859801" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24426977/posts/default/8408703442892859801?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24426977/posts/default/8408703442892859801?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://susansamom.blogspot.com/2010/08/enough-said.html" title="Enough Said..." /><author><name>Susan S.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13652825503815118552</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0f7vDbVF0kM/SONtxYUBOmI/AAAAAAAAAVo/ANZivnPyHDc/S220/grass.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0f7vDbVF0kM/TG0moe8iXXI/AAAAAAAAAyo/mmJTnJXu4zQ/s72-c/Sleep.bmp" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C0YBRH04fCp7ImA9Wx5TF08.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24426977.post-2332876379927995747</id><published>2010-08-01T23:47:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2010-08-01T23:52:35.334-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-08-01T23:52:35.334-04:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="life" /><title>Everything...</title><content type="html">&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0f7vDbVF0kM/TFZAMipwqMI/AAAAAAAAAyA/K5hCIOvphlY/s1600/everything_is_ok.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 134px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5500654579084208322" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0f7vDbVF0kM/TFZAMipwqMI/AAAAAAAAAyA/K5hCIOvphlY/s200/everything_is_ok.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Attending a kid's birthday party today, we all had a bit of a scare when one of the preschoolers had a piece of candy lodge in his throat.  One of the Dads is a cop with emergency training - he flew into action with the heimlich maneuver, and all is OK thank God.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Holding the little ones a bit tighter tonight.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24426977-2332876379927995747?l=susansamom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://susansamom.blogspot.com/feeds/2332876379927995747/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24426977&amp;postID=2332876379927995747" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24426977/posts/default/2332876379927995747?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24426977/posts/default/2332876379927995747?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://susansamom.blogspot.com/2010/08/everything.html" title="Everything..." /><author><name>Susan S.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13652825503815118552</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0f7vDbVF0kM/SONtxYUBOmI/AAAAAAAAAVo/ANZivnPyHDc/S220/grass.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0f7vDbVF0kM/TFZAMipwqMI/AAAAAAAAAyA/K5hCIOvphlY/s72-c/everything_is_ok.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C0ADRX8zeyp7ImA9Wx5TE08.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24426977.post-4241742547852337256</id><published>2010-07-27T10:03:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2010-07-28T08:56:14.183-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-07-28T08:56:14.183-04:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="pregnancy" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="family" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="baby" /><title>A Wild Ride</title><content type="html">&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0f7vDbVF0kM/TE7nbWD8SCI/AAAAAAAAAww/VQNZkmFzAwk/s1600/roller+coaster.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 106px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5498586652030552098" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0f7vDbVF0kM/TE7nbWD8SCI/AAAAAAAAAww/VQNZkmFzAwk/s200/roller+coaster.bmp" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That didn't go how I imagined.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Tuesday, July 13th we welcomed Ethan - the newest member of our little family. I also joined the ranks of those somewhat disappointed in their birth experience, but not for the reasons you might think.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Around 5pm I was lying down, #1 Son and I watching some cartoons together when I felt a distinct "pop." Checking out the situation, I couldn't decide that my water had broken or contractions had begun. I mean I had one or two, but that was not unusual at the 38-weeks stage of the game. Still puzzling, I called the hospital. Unfortunately for me - I got the OB on call rather than any of my doctors. &lt;em&gt;Oh no&lt;/em&gt;, she insisted. &lt;em&gt;You'd be leaking fluid or having timable contractions. Call if you have that.&lt;/em&gt; This is despite my relaying yet again that labor with my last child never had timable contractions to start. Waited awhile, H came home. Still didn't feel right, so we made the decision to have Daniel spend the night at his cousin's house for a sleepover. If it was nothing, so be it. But if we had to head to the hospital, then he was taken care of. H drove Daniel several towns over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the time it took him to make this trip, and start the return I was suddenly having knock you off your feet contractions extremely close together. All I could think was - even if H makes it back, how am I getting to the hospital like this???&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I called 911. Embarrassingly, this of course means that the whole circus shows up: fire department, police and the EMTs. They loaded me up in the ambulance, just as H finally made it through traffic back to our place. We all took off for the hospital. The EMTs were asking me questions, while sticking an IV in my arm, and can I just say that their gurneys seem frighteningly small to a whale of a pregnant woman who is flailing around trying to get a handle on her pain? I kept grabbing for something to hold onto, and hitting the button that collapses the back of the gurney. At some point the guy in the back with me yelled, &lt;em&gt;Hey! Pull over and come help me, we're having a baby!&lt;/em&gt; Now I am not a yeller, but my high-volume response was: &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; Pushing on that tiny gurney was going nowhere, so we continued to the hospital.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We came bombing into labor and delivery, and the only thought pitter-pattering through my tiny brain at that point was: &lt;em&gt;Oh thank god, now they can give me something.&lt;/em&gt; I've had my eyes screwed shut the entire time, panting (nearly hyperventilating) against the pain. And then I hear from the nurse: &lt;em&gt;Honey, you're fully dilated. It's time to push.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nonononono. NO! This is the hospital! This is supposed to be where I get the drugs!  After what seemed like an unimaginable amount of time, cajoling from the nurses, and a bit of what felt like browbeating from the doctor - who was most decidedly &lt;em&gt;not&lt;/em&gt; my favorite person at this point - baby Ethan was born.  It was only later that I cobbled together from bits of paperwork the information that they admitted me at 10:17pm and Ethan was born at 10:40pm.  That's a grand total of 23 minutes in Labor &amp;amp; Delivery folks!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eeks.  Apparently I go from 0 to 60 in no time when it comes to having children.  Daniel was around a 12 hour labor, and that makes Ethan around 5 or 6 hours.  The important thing is we're all home, happy and healthy.  I'm breastfeeding and short on sleep, but that's the way these early stages go.  And &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;IF&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; there are any more children in my future?  I think I'm announcing my pregnancy, and scheduling my C-section all at the same time.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24426977-4241742547852337256?l=susansamom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://susansamom.blogspot.com/feeds/4241742547852337256/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24426977&amp;postID=4241742547852337256" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24426977/posts/default/4241742547852337256?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24426977/posts/default/4241742547852337256?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://susansamom.blogspot.com/2010/07/wild-ride.html" title="A Wild Ride" /><author><name>Susan S.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13652825503815118552</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0f7vDbVF0kM/SONtxYUBOmI/AAAAAAAAAVo/ANZivnPyHDc/S220/grass.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0f7vDbVF0kM/TE7nbWD8SCI/AAAAAAAAAww/VQNZkmFzAwk/s72-c/roller+coaster.bmp" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>

