Ella rockin'

At music class this morning...

Ridin Sophie

What a great engine!!!

The Bloodbath

This is the dear sweet face of a baby who has had a very rough day. A baby who could only be soothed by Baby Guy. I took her to the pediatrician today for her 9 month well check. At nap time. That sweet baby put up with measurements and discussions and exams and more discussions asking repeatedly to go to sleep. She signed it to me, she yelled it at me, she sighed with resignation. Until finally she just fell asleep mid-squawk in her sling with her head lolled on my chest. Her sweet safe spot. 

So I guess I wasn't thinking when the nurse came in with the needles and the capillary tube for collecting her blood. I knew she was getting her finger pricked and I did my best to wake her. In the end, I let her sleep and settled for informing her in her sleep what was going to happen. Biggest mistake of motherhood so far. Her eyes snapped open with pained accusation at the prick of that needle. We got the blood we needed while she screamed in my ear and put the cotton on it to help with the bleeding. Only it wouldn't stop. For 10 minutes we held that cotton on while she screamed. We were holding her hand and squeezing her finger which pissed her off more. We finally elected to stop so that we could get the shots done. 

*gasp* 

The screaming and wailing and blubbering that ensued after that I will never forget. And at the same time, I hardly remember it. Because with each new breath, her tiny balled up fist emitted another tiny stream of blood. After 10 MORE minutes of screaming and holding, we finally put a precarious band-aid and cotton wad on the tip of her tiny finger and made it to the car. I'm sure you can hear the sobbing for breath that only a wee one can make after a good, long fit in your head. It was so sad. And just as I put her in the car, she ripped that band-aid right off. And the bleeding started all over. And so did the screaming, because (oh the injustice!) I wouldn't let her eat that band-aid. 

So I did what any good mother would do. I took her back in and made them fix her. They did the CBC at this point to make sure she had platelets. She did and after another 2o minutes of screaming and chasing her with a huge wad of tape and gauze, they decided to work. We left with what looked like a mangled boxing glove coated with liquid Tylenol and every cootie up in that place. That bandage made it all 10 minutes home where I had to tape it again. Thank God I had left Clare here with sweet, wonderful Callie. Thank God she was calm and that I had supplies and and and.....

My friend Kristy handles those appointments better than I do, I think. And yet even she says "well every time one tear sneaks out." And she's right. One tear always sneaks out. And it's really all we can muster. The tiniest release in the moment is all we get sometimes as parents. We can fall apart for one, fleeting tear of a moment and then we have to pull it together and get through it, because if we don't, who will? It's the hardest part to me. I'm learning it slowly and often without much grace. But I'll keep at it. It is why I was put here. Until I'm good at it, I'll rely on nap time to recover and know that a trip to the park can fix just about anything. Well, that and Baby Guy! 

BG goes to costco with dada

Clare left Baby Guy in the van. Oops. Then dad left for Costco. Double oops. And it's nap time. I'm holding my breath. I explain to the big girl that Baby Guy wanted to go to Costco and Dada said yes because BG took a nap in the car when we went into craft time at Lakeshore. With a sad and brave face, we head upstairs. We get Bitty Baby and Hello Kitty and climb into bed. We sing a few songs and turn on the mushroom light and we do our best. We text Dada to let him know what happened and we lay quietly in the dark thinking about how tender we feel about all this. And then the phone buzzes. It's an email from Dada. She's still giggling. I can hear her from here. It is a rare and wonderful man that will shop with a dolly in his cart for the sweet, tender sake of his daughter. I love that man.

•Kristin•

Motherhood is not for sissies.

Begin forwarded message:

From: Allen Smith 
Date: September 12, 2009 2:10:48 PM CDT
To: Kristin Braun 
Subject: BG goes to costco with dada

Allen Smith

Chubby roo likes watching TV with her sister

Clare hardly ever watched TV at this age. If she did, it was a Baby Einstein for 20 minutes. And even then, maybe twice a week, max. But Clare is so hooked on "Sesameet" that there just is no way around it. Most of the time, I put some toys on the floor and she's relatively distracted. But every now and then she is like a moth to a flame and I give in and plop her on the bed. And then the three of us get our complete and utter fill of the furry red monster. 

LA LA LA LA, LA LA LA LA....

So help me if her first word is Elmo.

Eating breakfast

Sister has been very impatiently awaiting the start of finger foods. She has been begging to feed Ella since she was "BlaBla" in-utero. Now, bless her, she cannot even finish her meal because she is so anxious to sit in front of her and feed her little bitty pieces of whatever. Precious girl. This morning she got bit. And she giggled with tears running down her face. Sharp little puppy teeth...

Garden panty

Oops, I meant party! I wonder what the neighbors think of our
pantsless shenanigans?