Of elbows and armpits

About a year ago, Melody became fascinated with her elbows. Specifically, she wanted to know "Where my elbow went." She would bend it and there it was. She would straighten her arm and *poof* it disappeared.

Now it is Dixie's turn to ponder armpits.
Dixie: Papa, why do your armpits have lots of fur on them?
Papa: Because I water them, and they grow.
Dixie: Really?
Papa: Yes, if you water yours, they will someday grow when you get older . . . oh, nevermind. You will be a delicate lady. Men are just hairy sometimes.

Now this explanation of my father's clearly goes against my parenting style of giving them incredibly complicated scientific information so factually presented that it might encourage them to simply, well, shut up about it. I would have started to answer that question with a detailed function of the pituitary gland.

Dixie again this evening broached the subject of pits at the dinner table. During the fine dining experience of eating eggs already clad in your jammies, she declared that she will never, ever take them off. They are her favorite, and her best. And she will never, ever take them off except then she might get sweaty. And then they might make her armpits itch. And then she might have to scratch a lot and if she scratches too much, she might bleed. Then there would be blood allllllll over her favorite jammies. And that would be bad.

So she decided that she might change in the morning after all.

How many questions can a girl ask in ten minutes?

Dixie:

Mommy? Am I magic? mommy, I have to go pee. Veryveryveryveryvery bad. Mommy, can you take me to the grocery store? Mommy, can you tell me a joke? Mommy, that joke wasn't funny because you didn't say knock knock. Mommy? Do you wish you were Cinderella? Mommy, please tell me your middle name. That isn't your middle name. No it isn't. Because I don't like it. Mommy, if that is your middle name, then I won't be your kid anymore. Mommy, when will baby Charlie turn one hundred? What is bigger than one hundred? What is bigger than one hundred and one? And then what is next? Mommy, how many is sixty-forty-twelve? Mommy, do you like blue? Mommy, how long until the Fourth of July? Why can't it be sooner?

Mommy, it's broken

Dixie: Mommy, it's broken!
Mommy: What is?
D: My magic wand.
M: Lemme see. It doesn't look broken to me. What is wrong with it?
D: When I say the magic words and do this (waving wildly) nothing happens.
M: Silly, girl, nothing is going to happen.
D: But my magic wand! It's supposed to do magic and it won't work!
M: Well, magic is just pretend, honey.
D: No, magic is NOT pretend. I will just wait until daddy comes home. HE will fix it for me if YOU won't.

We're out of people to vomit next

Charlie had his turn all day and I just started my round.

***

Dixie had been asleep tonight for about an hour when a bad dream woke her up. So she came to snuggle in with me. Dowlan was finishing up his project du jour and was standing in the kitchen with tools. Dixie whispered to me: "Mommy! Do you think Daddy is building a whole new house?"

She overheard a woman's voice on the TV and asked me, "Mommy, is that God's wife talking?"

She is also not quite recovered from Halloween. She only refers to Dowlan as Scarecrow and me as Ursula. Tonight's Dinner Conversation:

Dixie: Scarecrow, why did you want to marry Ursula?
Dowlan: Because I don't have a brain. (Quickly Backtracking) So I needed to marry someone who had one.
Gretchen: So are you saying that you married the sea witch because she bewitched you or she b****ed at you until you gave in?
Dowlan: I didn't say that. I am going to stop talking now.

Charlie is already hiding his drinking from his mother

Keeping Charlie happy in a tiny room for four days was even less fun that you'd imagine. Especially when you consider that he had to be in a crib under an oxygen tent for much of that time. Most sick babies are compliant and make things easy on their poor dear mothers by lolling about and staring listlessly. Not Charlie. He was happy, chipper, awake, and alert through most of the ordeal.

I did make one initial error. We hadn't been there but a few hours when I whipped out his Christmas present that had been hiding at Oma's. By whipping out the big guns, I taught him that acting bored and pretending to be hearty, healthy and hale between bouts of gasping for air will only result in the scrambling of the tall people in frantic efforts to find him more cool toys.

I realize that I am ascribing large motives to a small boy, but you have to remember that this is Charlie we're talking about here. Until this point, his needs have never been considered. Not once. He has never had this much time with this much attention focused on him. Nothing has ever once belonged solely to him. He realizes that he is finally getting his due and that the pesky sisters are nowhere near to thwart his plans. Sure, Melody tries her best with this puking-all-night bit, but not even Dixie's getting-hit-in-the-face-by-a-rope scheme comes close to 'Hey! I'm the baby and I can't breathe!"

Charlie has finally found a winning plan and is not letting it go.

He was actually really good during all the breathing treatments, poking, prodding, listening and measuring he endured during his, uh, unfortunate incarceration. And I will soon have the pics of him doing all the cute things he did to share, including games of hide-n-seek.

Which brings me back to the subject that is concerning me: Charlie is hiding his drinking from me.

As we were waiting to be discharged, he was walking around the room with a bottle of God-Knows-What. The ENTIRE bottle. Between nips, he kept opening the little cabinet door, setting it on the shelf, closing the door and looking at me with this big innocent grin. He showed me all six teeth.

Then he'd toddle around the room some more. Play with the buttons, go into his little hiding spots. As soon as he'd walked it off, he'd check to see if I was looking and return to where he hid the good stuff.

Pretty soon he was so desperate that he just stayed at the door, trying to not let me see him. He would open the door and stand behind it. I would hear the sound of him chugging from the nipple. As soon as the squeaking stopped, blue eyes and that same 'What, me???' grin would appear from nowhere, only to pop back behind the door, seeking more of the crazy juice.

It is the hospital's fault you know. Putting him on steriods, then bring him such horrible food at such long intervals that his tummy had no choice but to turn to it's former habit. I guess we'll be hitting the rehab hospital next.

I need a Kick Me sign

Melody has strep. Her tonsils are the size of grapes.

I promise all you, however, that I will be posting again soon with my normal stuff. Really, I well.

home

got here at 3:55 a.m. i got four hours sleep before charlie's nebulizer treatment. then dowlan went to work and now it is just me and the three short people

dixie and melody played with the perfume. this triggered a migraine.

my current goal is to remain upright as much as possible to minimize the possibility of me falling asleep.

Hooray!

Charlie was released from the hospital today and is currently playing on the stairs in Papa and Oma's house.

Dowlan and Melody threw up all night.

I have a nasty sinus headache.

Dixie is just fine.

Charlie gets out on Sunday!

Sorry for no updates--there is a computer I can get to at the hospital, but it is pretty limited as far as what it will allow you to access on the internet.

Charlie had a much better night last night and was off of the oxygen most of the day. If he can make it through the night tonight without being on oxygen, he gets released. We'll have to bring home a nebulizer and continue treatments. He is still cruddy and wheezy, but no longer barking constantly.

The girls spent a lot of today at Grandma Jane's house. Jane called me about five to tell me that Melody was throwing up. It is 7:30 now and she has thrown up three times. So now my mom is at the hospital with Charlie so that I can be with pukey girl until she goes to sleep.

I am tired. So freaking tired.

There's not much funny to share

with a baby in the hospital. He has croup and has been in an oxygen/humidity tent since yesterday morning.

We got into Abilene on Wednesday night, went to a Halloween Carnival, went Trick-or Treating at Aunt B's house, and came to Oma and Papa's and then tried to get Charlie to bed. He stayed up until 11:30, happy and playing.

He woke up at 4:30, crying, screaming and miserable. Coughing and snotty. We swapped off bouncing and snuggling. He finally ate something at 7:30. Charlie never skips a meal. By 9:30, he was struggling with every breath. So I took him to see Dr. Maslanka, who I used to see as a kid.

I expected that it was more bronchiolitis, which he has had a couple of times and just needed an allbuterol treatment. However, it is croup. When he had his first good nap, the oxygen rate dropped to 88%. Normal is 94-96%. So they put one of those hoses on his nose, which he loved, of course.

He has been in the hospital for a day now and will definitely be in till Saturday. He can't go home until he can go all night without oxygen. Last night his pulse oxygen rates kept dipping and they had to double the amount of oxygen going through his nose tub. So I am afraid this may take longer than anyone wants it to.

Between bouts of torture, he plays pretty happily in his little crib and has finally started eating. Mostly he is just grumpy because he is a very, very tired boy.

We have our cell phone with us there if you need to find us.