Ready, aye, ready?: February 2011

Monday, February 28, 2011

What she said

Oh, man, I love me some riled up feminism on the Interwebs this week.

If you don't want to read about motherhood and the impact of private life on the public sphere, go away and read something really stupid instead.

Here in the Love of Christ I Stand

Just really discovered the Newsboys. I wish most contemporary Christian music was this thoughtful. Lots of it is just some dude singing "Jesus, halleluia, holy" over and over.

Sunday, February 27, 2011

The Hoover

Baby E. likes to explore the world around him, just like most nine-month-olds. But he has a prodigious talent for finding things that could hurt him, and promptly sticking them in his mouth.
Stuff we've fished out of his gob this week include:

three pieces of LEGO;
dirt;
a hot banana pepper;
many, many pieces of paper;
the front page of the National Post;
a bottle cap;
a plastic bag;
wires;
a crayon;
a magnet.

Yes, I know this shows an appalling level of baby-proofing at my house. But come on, I have three other kids, and they have to live their lives, too. They try their best, but now that E. can crawl, he sometimes saunters into their rooms and helps himself to the bounty of forbidden objects.

My trusting swiping finger is getting a workout, at least.

Thursday, February 24, 2011

Another (terrifying) parental milestone achieved

Mr. Sicky-pants, in all his snotty glory.

A. brought home a cold last week, which, for him, involved a whole lot of nose-blowing and a very red and sore upper lip. It was starting to resolve on Friday, much to his relief; I was just glad no one else had caught it.

I put baby E. to bed at nine, and crawled in half an hour later. It had been a long and busy day, and we soon were both snoring.

At midnight, I woke to a strange, almost hissing sound, and a flailing baby. I sat up and looked at E.; in an instant I knew he had croup. He was gasping for each breath, his whole chest coming in. He could barely breathe at all.

I picked him up and ran for the bathroom, thinking a hot, steamy shower would do the trick as it had for his siblings, so many times before. Instead, his breathing became worse. Then he wasn't really breathing at all. His mouth started turning blue.

"C.! Call 911! Call 911! He's not breathing!" I admit it, I was hysterical.

The 911 dispatcher told us to take him outside in the cool air and to wait for the ambulance. His breathing improved a little, but not much.

Just as the ambulance pulled up to our house, E. started to cough and then threw up an enormous amount of phlegm. He started to cry. It was the sweetest sound I've ever heard.

He spent the night at the ER, getting breathing treatments and steroid shots. We've spent the week since dealing with mild dehydration, a stuffed-solid nose, suction and Tylenol and saline drops. He's finally on the mend, but is now, joy of joys, teething his two front teeth.

This is the first time, I think, I've taken a kid to the hospital via ambulance. I'm hoping to never have to repeat the experience.

Wednesday, February 23, 2011

Wherever we go. However we dress, part 2

Here are some shots of me breastfeeding...

E.'s very first latch:

E. and I on the couch:

Here's E. and I all dressed up for dinner in Tofino on my tenth wedding anniversary (photo by Hubby). Yes, I nursed like that in the restaurant, but used a scarf to cover the top of my breast:

Tuesday, February 22, 2011

Wherever we go. However we dress.

Forcing a woman to cover up while breastfeeding is an oppressive act. I never cover up while nursing in public because I want to make the point it is acceptable and normal to breastfeed in public, covered or uncovered. The choice is the mom's.

HT to Annie -- great job! www.phdinparenting.com