El Chapulin Colorado!!!

Regin FINALLY agreed to put on the hat we made him for his Halloween costume -- only three months late.  They tell you about toddler time, but they don't tell you it can be months off your desired schedule!

Last Snuggles With My Only Child

I'm laying here next to Regin in our family bed, all snuggled up and warm, and I'm feeling something bitter-sweet. I'm relishing this moment together and the peaceful stillness of the morning with my little one curled up against me.  But I can't help but wonder... How many days or even hours do we have left to be just the two of us?

Our relationship will change so much soon. His life will change. Three is becoming Four and Only is becoming First or Older.

Somehow even at his age I get the feeling he somehow understands his life is in transition. Even though he's going through a powerful Papi phase, he clings to me and cries for me more than ever.  He's become suddenly hyper and more difficult for an easily overstimulated Mamma to handle and it's been a sudden shift. We've talked about the baby in Mamma's tummy, how it's going to come out soon and how we'll love it and care for it when it does.  We've read Welcome with Love and We  Have a Baby together.  But can a two-year old understand what's happening?

Even if he doesn't, I do. And it makes me think back over the last almost three years...

His birth was long and difficult and I didn't bond with him right away, but when I started pulling out of my post-labor fog, and I looked at his poor little face that had been squeezed out of me, I recognized him and I smiled at the large feet he'd inherited from his Papi.  And on that first night together, as he slept on my chest, I listened to and learned the timbre and cadence of his voice in his breath.

In the early days I couldn't believe I'd made him.  When I looked at him sleeping next to me I marveled at the thought that I had made something so beautiful and I whispered to him that things would stay as they were and we'd never fight.  As he learned to focus his gaze on mine, I saw his love and felt mine.

In the following months, I learned how he and I would be together, that the books and websites were often wrong, and that I could trust what we developed together.  He learned to smile almost right away, earlier than supposedly possible, though he'd never let me catch it on camera, and after months of stressful and painful breastfeeding, I learned that I could go lengths of time without feeding him from my breast and still not lose my milk.  So in tune were we that if I was ever out of sync with his feeding schedule, even if it had changed suddenly and I wasn't there to know it, I would leak, and not any time I felt emotional or heard a baby cry like they show on TV.

As he's grown, I've been astonished at every new thing he's learned and wished I could track his language acquisition (English, Spanish, ASL, and even Faroese) and record every word as it came to him.  I tried a couple of times but just couldn't keep up.  I chuckled at my little climber, who did amazing stunts, scaling relatively high furniture before learning to walk.  I've seen him fall in love with identifying monkeys ("mono!"), motorcycles ("moto!"), balls, balloons, airplanes, fire trucks, robots, trains, and now letters, especially his favorite: the letter 'H'.  And I've watched him study his world as a scientist while using the same 'concentration face' I do.  I love that face, Little One, even though at some point you'll be misread as grumpy when you use it like I've often been and your Omma was before me.  It's funny that the 'sign name' that Tía Monica gave you is based on the word 'happy' (because you were always so happy as a baby) when others have often commented how serious you are.  I know you're just as silly as you are serious though.

He has gravitated towards boyish toys and interests despite having had no reinforcement for that from us.  So, maybe building and cars and shooting (SERIOUSLY don't know where he got that one) really do have something to do with the chromosomes.  Or maybe it's just coincidence.  After all, I did gravitate towards similar interests as a child even though I consciously made efforts to make myself like baby and Barbie dolls like my friends did.

He has his particulars with his foods as most children do.  Since graduating from purees, veggies and wet foods have been completely out, there is no limit to the amount blueberries he can eat, and as of the last six plus months, he has to have a glass of water and a glass of milk with every meal, including cereal.

He's always been extremely sensitive and empathetic and I adore that about him.  When he sees me upset or hears me yelp he asks me what's wrong and comes over to offer his kisses and rubs to make it better.  He uses pleases, thank yous, you're  welcomes, and such of his own accord, I frequently get an "I love you too, Mamma," and sometimes even get an unsolicited "I love you."  He's a hand holder, like me, and loves to hold our hands off and on when we eat together at the kitchen table.

Every day I learn something new about my boy.  Every day I get to laugh, even through the struggles and yes, fights, and delight in all the silly things he does.  I love even the things that annoy me like his singing Smilla-de-Lilla or Heffalumps and Woozles for hours on end, though I must say his aggressive display of affection for Smilla is not my personal favorite. 

Most of all I love the morning wake ups together; our snuggles and tickles and all the good stuff that comes before he insists we get up to eat.  I hope that a new baby won't interrupt that morning ritual too much, I hope it won't be too long before (s)he joins in the morning yumminess and that another member of our snugglefest only enhances the warmth of it.  But for now I want to savor the last moments we have alone together.  I love that it's just we, my little boy and me.

One of those parenting moments...

This weekend when we were shopping at Target, Regin picked up a large ceramic ball ornament, thinking it was a bouncy ball. I ran over to him saying, “noooooo that’s nooooot a toooooy!!!!” but I was too late.  By the time I’d reached him, he’d already held it high over his head and thrown it on the ground as hard as he could.

SMASH!!!

I gasped! I started telling him, “you see? Mamma said it wasn’t a toy…” but the poor guy was completely shocked and embarassed. He ran around the corner and hid. I stayed and apologized profusely to the Target workers, while he watched from a distance with his Papi, and saw as they cleaned it up and assured me repeatedly that it was no big deal and I didn’t have to pay for it. (thank goodness it was a cheap, Target item!). Poor guy. It took a long time to recover; he was pretty mortified.

I can’t really blame him. It did look like a fun ball!

October Photos - Misc

We filled our time with silly things once GEORGE STARTED HIS NEW JOB!!!

One day, I found Regin sitting peacefully in the window sill.  He looked so sweet staring out at the snow.

Turns out...

He was actually looking at and playing with the dead flies in the sill.  Ew, gross! 

I had a crazy day the Friday of George's first week.  I had an INTENSE dizzy spell that continued to get worse even though I laid down on the floor, and I got pouring sweats and chest pain.  So I ended up going to the emergency room.  Dear Teddi came over to make sure I was ok until George made it home from work (I think he was there for about 30 minutes that day!) and he took me.  Since the three of us were recovering from a 'cold' we were asked to wear masks.

Our drive home...

The emergency room doc didn't even want to hear about me talk about a cold.  He immediately corrected me and told me I had the flu.  "The flu?" I asked.
"If you've got flu symptoms right now, it's gotta be the flu.  Swine flu."
"Really?"
"Yep."
"I was wondering since just about everyone I knew got sick at the same time - even all around the country!"
"Yep.  We're seeing around 30 cases a day around here right now."


We got a new sweater from Omma.  Isn't it awesome?


Almost lost it before it was ever worn!  We left it in a diaper bag at a store in Boulder and it was about 3 days before we realized!  Thankfully the store (Ellie's Eco Home Store) held on to it for us.  I was SO relieved!


You can see the rest of our October photos in our October 09 album.

I know you'll say it was inevitable...

Two days ago, as the music played on the radio, Regin took his first solo salsa steps.  It was spontaneous, without any encouragement or anyone to watch and copy.  He's had a couple of "lessons" from Papi along the way.  His first one being when he was probably around 15 - 18 months.  A few weeks ago he started requesting salsa music.  It's the ONLY kind he requests.  And he knows.  If I put on oldies, he will persistently ask for salsa until I change it.  In fact, salsa was the only kind of music he could identify by name until he learned 'cumbia' about a week ago. 

I know you'll say it was inevitable... we're two salsa instructors, most of our friends are salsa dancers, but we hardly ever play salsa music or dance it at home.  We don't even dance it out very often anymore; I think we've been out twice since we moved back from Penang.  But now the requests are daily. And as far as it being in his blood... oh my gosh don't say those words in front of me ever.  It will take everything in my power to hold off the eye-rolling.   We didn't expect him to have any necessary interest in salsa, but then again he's still very little, we're still just awesome to him, and not everything we do is lame yet.

By the way, I think it's pretty impressive that he already gets the difference between salsa and cumbia; it's often not an obvious difference to beginning listeners and I have had to explain it numerous times.

Then, yesterday, another such moment occurred: he created art, on his own, spontaneously, with found materials.  He grabbed a sopping wet plush ball and very carefully and precisely used it to "paint" on our cement steps.  If you're in doubt that that's what he was doing, get this - when I held up the camera and pointed it at him, he stood up and proudly said, "Mama! Coloring!"

That's right.  Our one-time soccer prodigy who is no longer more than mildly interested in balls, is a natural salsa dancer and artist.  I wonder where he gets that from?

Penang -- Week 29 -- A Salt and Neglect

Week 29
WEEKEND, September 26th - 28th
The weekend starts out nice.  Early Friday evening, we take a walk, as a family, along Gurney Drive and out to the rocks along the shore.  There, we sit for a while and take in the view.  I never get tired of looking at the water, and the warm pinks of sunset, combined with the other sensory experiences of sitting out by the wave-kissed shore and the sounds and smells of the nearby restaurants only makes it that much more of a moment to remember.  And as if that wasn't enough, we spot a monitor lizard darting between the rocks right in front of us!

After that it's all downhill.  Salsa dancing is ok, Saturday's highlight is watching iTunes downloads, and Sunday is all about missed trips to our neighborhood Buddhist temples (was feeling ill) and forgotten fun at the monthly Little Penang Street Market (how could I forget again?).

Monday I'm determined to go out and do fun and productive things, but Mother Nature has other ideas.  So the witch throws serious storms at us all day and night.  Actually it's been since Sunday night.  Great.  Now I'm going to be behind on my laundry again with no dry balcony to hang my clothes on.

MONDAY, September 29th
It's an eventful day as it turns out.  It has one event too many as far as I'm concerned.  One particular event:  Regin finds the baggie of sea salt on the dining room table and spreads some salt love around the apartment.  He's gleaming with his glorious find when I finally see what he's up to.  I'm pretty sure he's eaten some of it.  Question is, how much?  And how much is too much?  I go online to answer the latter question. 

Great.  Apparently some small number of tablespoonfuls is fatal to a toddler.  There's an alleged murder case popping up again and again on various news sites.  George arrives just then and I tell him we may have to take Regin to the hospital.  I don't think he's had much if any salt, but to be sure we probably aught to go.  George asks about the milk mustache Regin has.  Turns out (after a taste test) it's crystalized, salty saliva.  I call my beloved Dr. Goh.
"I know that if he's eaten enough that it could be fatal."
"I very much doubt that he could eat that much.  Did he have a spoon?"
"No."  I wasn't thinking yet about the easy-pour bag the salt was in, and about how long he'd had to consume a deadly amount over a length of time instead of in one sitting.
"Well, I think it would be very difficult to eat that much salt.  It just wouldn't taste good."
"OK, but are there some signs I could look for that would indicate that he'd had more than we thought and that he should see a doctor?"
"Well, I don't know, I mean there might be fits [seizures] and he would be very thirsty, but I don't think that could happen.  It would be very hard for a little boy to eat that much salt."  She pauses before asking, "How was he after his runny nose?"
"Sorry?"
"You called me after he fell and had a runny nose."
"Oh! Yes!"
"So how did that turn out?"
Grrr... I don't like her tone.  "Oh I don't remember, I think he got sick, that was a while ago now."
"Yes, well, I think he will be just fine."

I'm sick of her.  She doesn't take anything I ask about seriously and now she's implying that I am overprotective and paranoid.  I'm neither.  I just never want to look back and wish that I would have checked that one thing out.  If we were all wrong and he had consumed too much salt, I would be upset with myself for not making sure I'd checked it out appropriately.

I called the pediatric clinic at the hospital that gave Regin his CT scan. 
"I think my son ate a bunch of salt."
"Ah?"
"My son may have eaten too much salt."
"You want a consult?"
"No, salt, table salt.  My son ate salt.  I want to know if I should bring him in."
"Oh salt! Umm... hard to say without see him.  I think you should bring him and doctor can have a look.  Can not say for sure if we not see him."

Hmmm... I think she just didn't want to deal with the language barrier over the phone.  George suggests I call Ask-a-Nurse in the States, but we don't know the number.  So we call North Suburban Medical Center in Thornton and they transfer us.  The connection is terrible because of the storm.  Every other word is gone, sometimes entire sentences.  We're absolutely struggling to communicate before we get disconnected.  I go through all the hoops to connect back to the same woman.  She's dismissive.  In as few words as possible (I know, not my strong suit) I explain that I know it's unlikely that he has eaten that much, but I just want to know some signs to look for that would mean I should change my mind and take him to the hospital. 
"Is he thirsty?  He would be very thirsty.  But I just don't think he could eat that much on his own." (Being dismissive is just as common in American doctors).
"OK, but what are the signs that I should worry about if he did eat too much?"
"Well if you're really worried, you should call Poison Control."

So I call Poison Control.  The connection is just as bad, but thankfully the woman is very patient with me.  She's trying to give me suggestions but every suggestion is cut out of our conversation, and half of my questions are too.  Finally I'm able to answer when she asks what he weighs and she looks up the toxicity of salt at that weight.  She says it's only a couple of teaspoons, and do I think he could have eaten that much."
"I honestly don't know."
"Is the hospital far?"
"No."
"Well, you could wait and see, since the hospital is close, but if you think that he may have possibly eaten that much..."
"Well, he did have the bag to himself for quite some time. Maybe half an hour.  Maybe more."
"Go to the hospital now!  You could wait and see, but you don't want to have to start thinking about going to the hospital when he's already having seizures, so just go."
FINALLY A CLEAR ANSWER!!!

So we take him to the pediatric clinic.  It's the same doctor as last time.  I may have to find an alternate clinic if I'm going to continue checking everything out!  She's also dismissive.  I tell her what Poison Control had said. She offers to do a blood test to check sodium levels.  We accept.  Regin is an absolute star when they are poking him, taking his blood, and leaving a tube in his arm (in case they have to flush him with fluids if he does have too much sodium.)  Then we wait and wait.  No food.  Missed dinner.  No food in the hospital.  Regin couldn't be happier though.  There is a slide in the waiting room and a pond with fish.  Finally the results are back.  Normal.  But suddenly her dismissive tone has changed.  "You know, you really should lock detergents and medicines away from your son."  Oh!  So now she thinks I'm neglectful!  I'm not sure what that has to do with table salt though.
"They are locked away, this was salt... on the dining room table!"
She nods, but she has that judging look in her eye.

Yeah, I know, mother of the year.  I'm both completely paranoid and totally neglectful.  I can't win in either direction.

Penang -- Week 25 -- All because of a big lip and a runny nose

MONDAY - THURSDAY,  September 1st - 4th
George has Monday off because of Merdeka.  We spend the day doing some more shopping and we have a great time.  But that's about it.

Well, it never is about it with me, right?  Yeah, not this time either.  So picture this scene:

A woman (you can go ahead and picture me for the sake of the story) arrives at the door of a pediatrician's clinic.  Her brow is shiny and dripping and she's visibly flustered as she wrestles a stroller up some steps and through the door.  She approaches the counter, panting, her voice is hurried and breathless and there is a determined clarity in her wide eyes.  The small boy in her stroller, who has a swollen lip and a little blood on his shirt, is chirping away happily and waving at the fish in the aquarium as his mother asks to see the doctor. 

The doctor is about as concerned about the boy as he appears to be about himself, but she tries to comfort the mother who's alarm seems a little excessive.  She asks the usual questions and seems content with the answers though the mother does not.  Nothing to worry about.  Little Boy had a minor fall, bit his lip, and Mother is a paranoid freak.

Now wait a minute!  Let's go back about an hour.

Regin is playing around my chair as I'm doing something on the computer.  He backs away from my desk and then, boom!  He starts crying.  I'm not alarmed, I hear this and deal with this at least 10 times a day, but when I turn around and bend down to pick him up off the floor this time, I see a bunch of blood below me.  It's on the floor, and coming from his mouth.  MY GOODNESS!  I mean this is a LOT of blood we're talking about.  He's absolutely wailing, and I am completely failing at the whole calm-mother schtick.  I'm shaking as I try to figure out what to do.  Is this the moment we've been fearing?  The one where I have to rush Regin to the hospital even though I have no car?  No, probably not.  I try to calm myself.  Think about it.  It's just some blood, it's just a little fall, his own doctor is more than likely sufficient.  But that doesn't change the fact that I am absolutely trembling as I look for Dr. Goh's number.  The blood is everywhere by now.  It's all over the place in my office, it's all over Regin's shirt and mine, as well as my hands.  I'm telling you!  I think this may be the most blood I've ever seen!  (I think it's more blood than my fall down the stairs several years ago, and I got to ride in the ambulance for that one!)  I try to do my best to quickly mop up the blood so Shanti doesn't freak out when she arrives, and then I run out. 

I'm walking quickly as I push the stroller by the security hut.  No time to talk to Rada today, though she's shouting questions behind me!  We hurry to the intersection of Jalan Birch/Jones and Kelawi and as usual it's a steady stream of cars, motorbikes, trucks, you name it, absolutely flying past me.  Waiting makes me more anxious.  It's so hot out and it's lunch time.  I haven't eaten, I'm already in a mild hypoglycemic crash, and the heat doesn't help.  It hasn't happened yet, but I'm always afraid of the first time that I have Regin out and I faint from hypoglycemia.  I can imagine some pretty awful things resulting from that.  And Regin, who is still upset, though not wailing, also hasn't eaten.  I'm trying to give him water and crackers, but the poor fellow has really hurt his lip!  Who wants to eat with that?  And how much blood has he lost?  Should I worry about the heat with him? 

When I finally see my opportunity to cross, I sprint.  I'm almost pushing my luck with the small break in traffic, so it's a real dash.  I'm already running at this point, so I just continue.  It's not that far, and if I'm going to faint, or if Regin is going to faint, I want it to be in a doctor's office, or right in front of it, when it happens.  I run most of the way to the clinic, and I slow down just before I reach the steps.  I'm less worried now, I can recuperate with my almonds and water and Regin seems to be calm.  But now I'm out of breath, sweating, and panting from the run.  I look down at Regin and his big lip.  Man I wish I'd changed his shirt!  What they must think of me to let him walk around with blood on his shirt! 

Grr!  Why is it the doctor hears me when I say, yes there was a little blood from his nose, and she still isn't worried?  Ok, so FINE, there was a tiny scratch inside the nose.  But I can't stand how she doesn't seem to take anything seriously!  I know he's probably fine and this is what she keeps telling me.  It's not the "probably" I'm worried about.  And I'm not even that worried.  I already know he doesn't appear to have any signs of concussion, and she hasn't mentioned stitches, so OK good.  I just don't want to ever look back and wish I had investigated something a little more.  Just being thorough is all.

After we're home, Rada and Shanti fuss over Regin appropriately and Shanti is very concerned about "so much blood" on some of the napkins I'd apparently missed on my way out.  And when George gets home from work, I tell him the whole saga.  Later on he asks me about Regin's runny nose.  It seems incessant.  I say it's nothing; Regin's been crying off and on all afternoon.  This is what he reserved for me.  No tears at the doctor's office (her primary way of telling that Regin is OK) but with me it's cry, cry, cry, cry, whine, whine, cryyyyy....  So of course his nose is runny, poor guy! 

In the morning, it's still there and now I notice it too.  It's now been many hours since the last time he cried and his nose is STILL running.  So I Google it.  It's probably not, but it COULD be "cerebrospinal fluid" leakage from his fall.  YIKES!  Further, I read:  Any persistant runny nose after a fall should be looked at by a doctor!  So I call Dr. Goh.
"It's probably a cold."  (This is without seeing him.)
"But it wasn't there before the fall and suddenly it was there after."
"He was probably just about to get a cold when he fell.  Give him some antihistamines."

George tells me about another pediatric clinic that some coworkers go to.  We call them up and take Regin right over.  The doctor doesn't think it is, but she acknowledges that it COULD be cerebrospinal fluid.  She consults a neurosurgeon who agrees that we should give Regin a CT scan just to be sure.

Oh that is so sad.  First they have to inject Regin with a sedative so that he will lay completely motionless for the scan.  He has to be completely passed out.  I have to help them hold him down for the injection (sniff)  and then I have to hold him for a while in the waiting room and wait for him to become limp, (sniff sniff).  When we go for the scan, they will NOT let George follow me through the doors.  They totally close the doors behind me and in George's face!  When I say that my husband is still out there, they say, "It's ok, it's very fast."  Um, no, it's not ok, you just closed the door on him!
"But he wants to--"
"No need, no need.  It's very fast."
Excuse me?  No need?  Who's need?  What about George's need?

Then I have to leave Regin, limp on the table, with the big machine around him and go to another room to watch.  (sniff sniff sniff.)  He looks so sad and helpless.  But I get to watch and see the scans of his brain which is really cool but in a scary, I-wonder-if-all-that-looks-normal-to-these-guys sort of a way.

When all is said and done it is nothing, and we go home (after I thank the doctor for taking me seriously).  Yes.  He has a cold, and the next day, I get one too.