"Oh no!"

Last week was relatively uneventful.  After the excitement of Max's seizure, Daniel decided he didn't want to be the only Salvateenie who hadn't been to the Emergency Room, so he set himself to a teething-induced screaming fit that the advice nurse felt was worthy of a visit.  He and Max both went and tag teamed in the screaming department.  But Daniel shut right up when the pretty doctor came in and there was flirting to be done, so we weren't too worried about him.  After a day or two more of crazy screaming jags they both seem to be doing just fine.

Then, there's Caroline.

Caroline has started talking.  Well, they all talk all the time, but Caroline has just begun to speak English, while the others still primarily communicate in Salvateenese.  (You cannot imagine how pleased I am to have come up with 'Salvateenese'.)  On Friday, while watching Intentional Talk on the MLB Network with Daddy, she quoted Kevin Millar saying "Got Heeeem!" and from there on it was off to the races. 

"Got Heeeem" - not Caroline

She is, in fact, so excited about talking that she'd rather do it than almost anything else, including sleep.

Way back when the babies were just barely rolling over, Caroline set her mind to sitting up and she would work herself into a frenzy trying to crunch her little abs and sit up, sometimes even waking herself up.  This seems to be the case with talking.  On Saturday night, after just over two hours of pleasant baby slumber, Caroline started screeching at the top of her lungs.  Normally, we let the babies "cry it out", but it had been months since she'd had any problems sleeping and she was sobbing and gulping for air, so I went in and rescued her.

As soon as we got into the kitchen, she perked up.  Once we were in the living room, she was all smiles, running to her toys and pointing to the TV, chanting "Die-oo!".  A quick glance at my English-to-Salvateenese dictionary showed this meant she wanted to watch the insipid pre-school cartoon "Caillou".  We found an episode and she sang along and played for a bit.  When I tried to turn the tv off to calm her down, she started again, "Mommy! Die-oo!"  I gave in and over the next three and a half hours we watched nearly every episode of Caillou on Demand (and I do mean that both as the cable service's "On Demand" service and Caroline's demands of more).  Finally, I found a different cartoon that bored her to the point that she slept.

Sunday night she slept fine until 12:30, at which point she woke up screeching again and howled bloody murder for the next half hour until she apparently decided we weren't coming to get her and she should just go back to sleep.

Monday was bath day and I cracked out the new bath crayons - a first for everyone.  For Valentine's Day, they tried coloring on a card for Grandma and Grandpa, but it became clear they need a little more practice holding the crayons, so bath time seems like a good opportunity to practice.  They have just recently started enjoying their bath books (soft, puffy plastic books they can read in the tub - when I introduced them they all gravitated to the Elmo books and shunned the ones with unfamiliar characters, so we know they're "reading"), so they jumped right in drawing on the pages. 

Caroline grabbed for the red crayon and swiped at the side of the tub with it, leaving a bright, red line.  She saw it and gasped, turning her little lips into a perfect "O", looked at me, and said, "Oh no!" in a little sing song way.  She repeated it at least fifty times over the next twenty minutes - "ohno, ohno, oh NO!" At one point, Daniel reached over to take a book away from her and she varied her tune, telling him, "NO NO NO!"  I was pleased to see he paid her the same attention he pays his parents when we say no - he laughed uproariously.

We see the doctor for the 18-month visit in a month.  I'm really hoping that by then I will have a better answer to the "What words can your child say?" question than, "Hmmm...'mommy' 'daddy' 'oh no' caillou' 'thank you' and 'got heem'".

Max is SO BRAVE!

The Salvateenies have been fighting a cold for the past week and a half.  Max was the first to come down with the sniffles and it spread like wildfire to his siblings.  They have generally had runny noses and coughs, but nothing too persistent and no high fevers, so we were in "watch and see" mode.

They seemed to be on the upswing, so we thought we'd take them on a trial outing.  I had the day off on Friday and we headed to Best Buy to see if we could find an HDTV that would fit both on our wall and within our budget.  As would stood, paralyzed, looking at the wall of televisions, Caroline decided she needed to get out of the stroller and explore the store.  Her favorite item was a Bissell vacuum that she could pick up herself (believe that claim that it's "light weight"!), but she was a huge fan of the front-loading washers:

The boys were mostly content in their stroller, which was odd. We were sure they'd get jealous watching Caroline running around.  When we got home everyone went right down for a nap and slept well past six o'clock.  Friday evening, both Max and Daniel were a little warm, but I checked their temperatures and it wasn't anything to worry about.

On Saturday, they woke up early and I made them breakfast smoothies as a treat (blackberries, strawberries, pineapple, banana, yogurt, and milk).  They sucked them down and asked for more.  By eleven they were more than ready for naps, and were asleep almost before I put them in their cribs.  They slept through until a bit after one, when it was time for lunch.  Caroline stuffed her face with cheese sandwiches, but the boys were not interested, opting instead for the Cheerio diet.  I checked their temps again, and again got something a bit over 100, but under 101.  I'd given them Tylenol at 10, so I was planning on the next dose at 2 and wasn't too worried.

My brother, Uncle Kelly, was playing with them and getting them to eat Cheerios while I slipped into the kitchen to find them some fruit.  I emerged with a bowl of pear bits only to find Max goofing around in his chair.  He had his head back and he was snoring.  Big, loud snores.  But he wasn't goofing around.  His eyes were open, but not focused, and when I called his name, he didn't move.

I waved my hand in front of his face.  Nothing.  So I picked him up out of his high chair and he was limp as a little rag doll.  Instinct told me it wasn't a good idea to have his big head lolling around on a limp neck on my shoulder, so I lay him down flat on the ground and asked my brother to bring me the phone so I could call the advice nurse.  He was still breathing, but with a sort of gurgle sound, and he still wasn't responding to anything and was totally limp.  As the Kaiser automated system picked up, I all of a sudden remembered the announcement they make at the beginning of each call - "If you think you are having a medical or psychiatric emergency, please hang up and call 911."  So, I did.

I called 911, and there was a sort of high pitched hum, but nothing connected.  So I frantically hung up and called back.  Same thing.  And a third time.  I'd finally decided to give it a try on my cell phone when the landline rang - it was 911 calling back because they'd gotten a hang up from our line (there were actually two messages on our machine saying officers were being sent to our address based on a hang up that came in while I was trying to call out).  I gave the operator Max's information and she said that help was on the way.

Uncle Kelly kept Caroline and Daniel distracted while we waited so that I could keep my eyes on Max.  He was still breathing, but his color had gone and his lips were getting dark.  I put my finger in his mouth to check that he didn't have a Cheerio lodged in his throat and his jaw was clenched with his teeth about half an inch apart.  At that point, I noticed that the index finger on his left hand was twitching a bit.  His hands slowly closed into fists and at some point he raised them up in front of his chest like he was boxing.  He sort of twitched all over and then moaned - a tiny, faraway moan, but his body sort of sighed and relaxed a little and his eyes closed.

Within two minutes of the call from the operator, we had three EMTs coming in from a fire truck outside.  Uncle Kelly let them in and moved Daniel and Caroline out of the way (in their high chairs - brilliant move to keep them contained while folks were moving in and out).  They set up a little oxygen mask for him and as I held it on his lips slowly started turning pink again.  They added little electrode thingies so they could check his heart rate and then handed off to the paramedic whose ambulance had just shown up.  The paramedic pinched Max's shoulder and he cried, which was the correct reaction.  But because he'd shown signs of a seizure and was still warm, he decided we were going to the ER.  He carried Max out to the ambulance while I put on some clothes (it's one thing to be disheveled taking your toddler to the ER - it's another to be in your pijamas at 2pm!).  My brother stayed with the others and I grabbed my purse and phone and headed out.

When I got to the ambulance, Max was on the gurney with a little teddy bear he'd been given:

We named him Dr. Rex Bear.  I was invited in to sit on the gurney and hold Max.  I called Joe from the ambulance but could only give him the basics because I needed both hands to hold Max.  It was a short drive to the ER and we were ushered right in to be registered and into a room, where we were met by a very friendly nurse and the equally friendly Dr. Lim (I resisted the urge to ask him if he was related to Jeremy, but he was Lin-credibly calming and nice).

Because everyone who had attended us was male, Max did not get the chance to show off his flirting, but he checked out as pretty normal anyway.  His temperature was 103 when we got there, so we need to get a new thermometer!  They gave him some ibuprofen and a prescription for amoxycillin for us to hold onto just in case it turns out to be an ear infection (his left ear is a little red, but that's often viral and we don't want to give him antibiotics if they're not going to do anything for him).  More likely, this was a small febrile seizure, scary to live through, but that won't do any real damage.

You can't imagine how happy I was to see those pink lips!

Once I knew everything was OK, I had a chance to calm down and realize that I had left the house in an ambulance.  And since I had brought my keys with me, there was no way for anyone to bring the van to take us home.  So, our choices would be for someone to drive all the way to the hospital and get the keys from me, just to double back, or to put one of the new car seats in my dad's car so he could come get us. The second option made more sense and by the time we were out of the pharmacy, our chariot was awaiting!

I can only imagine how scary it was for Joe, getting the phone call that I was taking Max to the hospital in an ambulance and then getting only spotty updates from there because cell service was not good in the ER.  He made it through the next four hours of work and came home to hug Max.  As strong as he'd been thinking about it all, and even though he knew it was all OK now, he couldn't help let out a couple of sobs as he pulled Max in extra close for a hug.  The folks at work arranged for someone else to take his shift tomorrow so that he can stay close and keep an eye on all of them, which was really nice of them (the weekend crew at the radio station has had three babies make ER visits in the past month...spooky!).

Everyone's off to bed now.  I think it's time for Mommy and Daddy to have a drink!  Cheers!

Mommy Emotions

Sorry for the lapse in posts - the babies have been down with a cold, while teething, and I've been super busy at work, leaving Daddy to bear the brunt of the wailing.  Hopefully everyone will be on the upswing soon.

A week ago Saturday, I packed all of the Teenies into the van and headed to Congregation Beth Sholom - the synagogue I went to for Sunday School growing up - for a program of "Shabbat Songs".  After the less than welcoming reception we'd gotten at the PJ Havdallah service at Sherith Israel a few weeks earlier, and considering I was by myself with them this time, I was a little nervous.

The entire synagogue has been re-built since I last attended.  The front doors used to lead to a run-downish lobby outside the sanctuary, with double doors to the plain-open-room meeting area known as the Friedman Center.  I remember vividly the guard who stood outside those doors the evening of my class's Sunday School confirmation, on high alert because there had been a rash of anti-Semetic vandalism in the area, including swastikas painted on the walls just next to the doors.

The front doors are now glass and lead to a little courtyard area.  There are offices to the left and a glass staircase straight ahead.  Behind the staircase, there is a path that leads in both directions.  I followed the signs to the PJ Library event and wound my way down a hall and to the library.  The library is a long, rectangular room with a sunken donut-hole in the middle of it.  There are about ten steps that lead down into the "Children's area" (I am assuming this because there appeared to be kids' books down there), and that's where the wonderful entertainer had set up with his guitar.  The donut hole area was packed with pre-school and elementary-school aged kids and their parents.  There were a few adults scattered among the benches and tables "upstairs" and so I migrated over to a corner, parked the stroller, and released the babies.

Everyone seemed to enjoy taking in the whole scene and folks were smiling at us.  Then the Teenies noticed the floor-to-ceiling bookcases and set themselves to extracting every volume on Talmudic interpretation (including "101 Things You Should Know about Judaism") to peruse.  I'd like to take this opportunity to apologize to the congregation's librarian for the disorder left as I jammed books back into the shelves to protect the pages from Teenie tears.  From time to time they'd get bored with the books, being drawn into a song, or, in Caroline's case, becoming intrigued with the things in somebody else's purse that she could try to "borrow".  At one point they found the basket of loaner yarmulkes and that was good for at least a couple of minutes of distraction as they tried on the various styles and colors.

About half way into the event, a young woman walked over to us and as I tried to shuffle everyone out of her way she said, "Oh no, I was just going to stand here - they're fine".  The boys heard her voice, and were in love.  They spun around and waddled over to her, so she sat down, explaining that she provided child care during the Sabbath services, as a way of explaining the thrall in which she held my sons, I suppose.  They each stood at one of her knees and smiled goofily at her, letting her play with them and put hats on them.

And Caroline didn't like it.

So she started crying.

A man came over to me and told me, nicely, that there were a couple of rooms just down the hall that were "filled with toys" if I thought the babies needed a change of scenery.  I thanked him, but imagined it would be easier to calm Caroline down than to corral all three of them, schlep them across the room and down the hall, just to play with toys we could play with at home.

I was wrong.

A moment later, a woman came over and informed me, not so nicely, that she really thought that Caroline's crying was "distracting him" (the guitarist, I think, but I'm not sure) and asked if I needed help.  It sounds in the re-telling as if she was being kind and offering help, but her tone was not pleasant, caring or nurturing.

And I had an embarrassingly emotional Mommy reaction.  Much like my mother, who upon tripping and falling responded to the folks who crowded around asking if she was OK by saying, "Hell no, I'm not ok - didn't you see me just fall down?", I snapped at the woman, "Not unless you can make her stop crying."  And then I felt my face get hot and my eyes fill with my own tears.  All I could think was, I should be able to take my children out of the house for an hour by myself without someone implying that I can't handle them.  Would she have offered to "help" if I'd only had one baby?  I didn't want to make a scene crying, so I scooped Caroline up and went through a glass door out into a tiny patio adjacent to the library, leaving Daniel and Max to flirt with their new friend Laura.

Another mom with a baby was outside and noticed I was crying and asked if I was ok.  I admit I am not proud that I answered, "Well, I was until somebody made me feel I'm not welcome here if my children cry." I'm even less proud that when she asked who had done that, I pointed through the window and outed the woman.

Oh well, I was upset.  So sue me.

Laura brought the boys outside and everyone seemed in a much better mood in the cool air.  The first man who had offered me the rooms full of toys as an option came outside with his six year old and chatted with me very pleasantly about the religious school and the kids programs they offer, while his son ran in circles through the plants, screaming at the top of his lungs each time he approached us and making my children laugh uncontrollably.

And I felt better.

The babies started to run around and play outside, and slowly other kids came out to join them, and they all had a great time.

Caroline explores the steps in her ruffle butt pants

At the end of the show, everyone came outside for grape juice and grapes (real creative...) and crackers and cream cheese.  The little courtyard was now packed with people and I decided it would be a good idea to get everyone in the stroller and start to plan our escape.  I had retrieved the boys and was staggering back to the stroller with one in each arm (they weigh roughly a combined 50 pounds at this point) when that woman approached me again.

As she started to talk, I stopped her, saying, "I just can't talk to you right now, thank you."  But, she persisted, and as I struggled to get the boys strapped in, she said, "Well, I was GOING to apologize".

"Good.  Thank you."

But she went on.

"It's just that, some children handle situations like that better than others, for some all the people and the sound is just too much, and it's really kind of inappropriate to bring them, then."

I stared at her.  I couldn't believe it.  I felt like asking, "And this apology? When am I getting that?"  Because this sounded more like a lecture on why my children shouldn't leave the house.  Instead, I just stared.  This seemed to make her uncomfortable, so she mumbled, "Well, Shabbat Sholom" and wandered off.

This little interaction made me mad all over again, but I stood, took a breath, and looked around at all the other folks who were smiling at me, complimenting Caroline's outfit, asking how old everyone was, and I was determined that that woman would not ruin the experience.  I strapped Caroline into the Baby Bjorn on my chest and stood for a moment trying to decide who to ask to help me get the stroller up the steps to the door that would put me back on the sidewalk.  A girl who appeared to be about 8 years old walked by, stopped, looked at the boys, then Caroline, then me, and asked, "You have THREE babies?" When I nodded, she added, "Wow - that's a lot!" and then "And do you have another one in your tummy?" and I could not stop from busting out laughing.

A nice, burly man agreed to help carry the stroller up the steps, and we left then, oddly in a good mood because a little girl mistook my fat belly for pregnancy.

Then on Monday, my aunt Laya came to visit the babies, hanging out with them for the better part of three days.  They showed off a lot for her, especially their wrestling skills.

but only Caroline would model the ski caps she brought for them:

Family Portraits

The first week of January we drove out to Ripon, Ca (about an hour and a half away) to take some family photos with Kree (http://www.kreephotography.com), who had done our "newborn" photos when the babies were just four weeks old.  We had attempted to work out a time in August to get together, but between her pregnancy and Caroline's irritation at travelling long distances, we had to reschedule and January was the first time that worked for all six of us!  Luckily, Caroline did much better on the trip now that she's in a forward-facing car seat.  We met Kree at a state park - we were the only folks there in the chilly January air, but it was actually sunny and almost warm, so things worked out well.  

First, we sat down on a log in front of a patch of trees and Kree "overshot" taking a zillion pictures in hopes that a few of them would result in five smiling faces looking forward.

Next, we moved to a blanket by a tree, overlooking the river behind us.  We were pretty near the edge, and it was a little terrifying, which may show just a bit in some of these pictures.

We packed everything up and moved to a more wide-open meadow area for some photos using Kree's RadioFlyer wagon, but the Teenies were not interested in sitting all together in the wagon:

Caroline started to cry at this point, so I pulled her out of the wagon to calm her down - allowing us to take some Mommy-Daughter pictures.

Joe and the boys were trying to keep up with us.

Then it was time for our Halloween pictures.  We swapped out Max's adorable monkey costume for a bear in the hopes of getting a Lions and Tigers and Bears - oh my! photo.  But it was late in the day and everyone was whining at this point.  Plus, Caroline HATES wearing anything on her head, including her lion hat!

So there was no way she'd keep it on and wait for Max and Daniel to get dressed.  We opted for individual pictures.  Max went next.  There were big bear feet that came with the costume, but we were happy he got into this much of it and didn't push our luck.

Then, Daniel, who was really the most calm and composed through the whole day of photos and looks the most comfortable in them now that I review the album.

And through the wonders of digital editing (and Kree's considerable talents), those individual shots rendered this for us:

The last thing on our wish list was a barefoot picture of the babies to mirror the one we'd taken when they were just four weeks old.

Here's the original, for reference:

Now the problem is deciding WHICH family photo to blow up and frame on the wall!