The Fish Pond

Skin to Skin

Nemo is at such a fun age right now - 18 months. When he nurses (yes, we're still going strong there) he yanks on my shirt to get it out of the way, and he likes to rub his soft pudgy hand all over my tummy. He will also sometimes take my hand and put it on his head, over his ear, or on his side near his tummy to hold and rub him. He loves to have that skin to skin contact, and while it does present a challenge being discreet while nursing in public, I am more than happy to give him all the comfort and caresses he craves while we are at home.

I love his skin, so soft and smooth and mostly unblemished so far. He's got a couple of scars from his rough and tumble lifestyle already, and he currently has a sizeable scrape on the top right part of his forehead, courtesy of yesterday's attempt to use a stack of cases of water bottles to climb on to reach his balloon from Trader Joe's (Boon!) and subsequent tumble onto the jagged part of our hardwood and crash of a three-quarters full 3 gallon water fire extingusher onto the back of his head. (yeah, that was fun.) I'm not allowed to rub that part right now. So now I just concentrate on rubbing his tummy, and when I sleep I rest my hand on the soft velvety smoothness of his belly as we spoon.

Our skin is such an amazing organ. It really is. It puts up with so much, and still continues to protect us and help us cool down and cleanse ourselves. And we abuse it. We go out without sunscreen. We let our skin burn. We cut it, we stretch it beyond reason with our excesses or with growing new lives. We let it dry out. We curse it when we see the lines and blemishes and other effects of our lifestyles on it. But it keeps on ticking.

Most of the time. I have very fair skin and a long history of burn/peel/burn summers, and my family has a history of skin cancer. Most of them haven't been a big deal; my grandfather in particular had numerous small cancers taken off of his face, but never had a problem. My aunt, who was a synchronized swimmer, had a melanoma on her leg that was successfully treated almost two decades ago, and she's still doing fine. As a result of this history, I go to have my skin checked for signs of trouble each year.

Nine months ago I went in to the dermatologist to have my annual checkup, and at that time one of my moles was removed from my arm and shipped off to biopsy. TUESDAY morning when I got up I had a message on my cell asking me to call the dermatologist's office because they had my biopsy results in and I have to come back in. When I called back I asked her why it took NINE MONTHS to get the results back and she guessed that someone was looking at the records and noticed there was no follow-up. She wouldn't say what exactly was going on, but she said I have to come back in to have it checked and probably frozen. So next Tuesday I will be going in to have the thing checked and possibly frozen off, and at that time I intend to interrogate the doctor and find out why it took 9 months to get my results, especially since something in the back of my brain says I called and was told it was fine, and to find out what the deal is. I'm pretty scared, actually.

So make sure you have your skin checked each year. Make sure it can do its job without hurting you. And whatever you do, follow up carefully, requiring copies of any test results.

Make sure those little ones get lots and lots of skin to skin contact for as long as they need it. The thing is, you need it, too, even if you don't realize it. I know it's a great comfort to me at the moment.

New Fishies - Updated

I mentioned that last weekend we fishsat for our neighbors. They have a little fancy goldfish in a bowl named, appropriately enough, "Fishy." We took care of him for the weekend and took care of feeding and changing his water, since he's in a little bowl and goldfish are particularly dirty creatures. Our kids went crazy, and it was all we could do to prevent them from committing fishicide, since they were hellbent on feeding it as many times as possible (which we couldn't allow, because goldfish eat til their intestines burst). We tried to convince our neighbors to take one of our old fishtanks to keep Fishy in, but they declined.

All weekend long BigDaddyFish kept saying "I want fish again." I reminded him that we had decided to wait until we got to our new house to have fish again, since we have a tendency to take it overboard when it comes to fish. But all week long he whined and complained about how much he missed having fish.

Wednesday he came to help me with the ballet pickup (don't ask, it's a PITA with Uncle Orca/AgincourtDB out of babysitting action) and he took Little Man over to the fish store across the street after ballet. He was supposed to be getting plants so that we could set up a small fish tank on our kitchen counter. So of course we now have this:

It's kind of hard to see, but there are two fish in there. There were three, but Trout learned a hard lesson about how fish are not petting kinds of pets and she has to keep her hands out of the tank and off the glass. They are platties, life bearers and our favorite kind of fish. The two we have right now are female; the male was killed, but he most assuredly got the other two pregnant before he died, and we'll be getting another male on Wednesday after ballet.

I had other pictures, but since I don't have a clue how to use the macro setting on my camera, they're all blurry. The kids are loving having them around, and I have to say I've enjoyed it, too. Nemo can't stop saying "Shee-shees! Shee-shees!" every time he sees them, and the bigs fight over who gets to sit on Granddaddy's stool next to the counter and watch them. It's cool.

Here's another picture that isn't too too blurry:

Shee-shees!

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My Mother's Day weekend included a nap for two hours in my big comfy bed all by myself, 2 breakfasts in bed, a shopping trip to best buy where an insane amount of money was spent on Wii and DS games, and an equally insane amount of time spent playing said games after we got home. In addition to the requisite hand-made cards that made me cry, of course. This was after Muffins for Moms at Sunny's school on Thursday, where I not only ate a delicious crumbly muffin but was gifted with my third puzzle piece pin. Guess we have to stay local so I'll get my fourth when it's Nemo's turn, eh? Since Mother's Day is always so bittersweet for me, not having my own mom around, it was nice to just make it all be about me for a change. Hope yours was great, too.

In the annals of ew that's gross, it seems that Trout was carrying around the dead fish in her pocket. Since Saturday. Just in her pocket, not in a baggie or anything. Little Man told on her and I was never so grateful to have a tattletale in the midst. I may or may not have squealed a little and made her dispose of it properly and wash her hands in the hottest water she could stand. Ewww.

Why My Eldest is in Some Seriously Deep Yogurt

Trout is in second grade, and in our school that means a fair amount of homework. Each week during reading initiative, she gets an assignment on Monday and Wednesday, and those assignments are due Wednesday and Friday. They usually involve reading some book they send home and answering some sort of questions about what she read in her writing journal.

Tuesday afternoon I asked Trout about her homework, because I knew she hadn't done it the day before. She told me that the teacher got busy at the end of class and never handed the books back out. Because she has a track record of not always being entirely truthful, especially when it comes to getting out of doing something she doesn't want to do, I looked in her backpack for the book, which wasn't there, so I figured she was telling the truth and made her finish her spelling packet and then let her go play.

Yesterday afternoon I was writhing around on the floor exercising my muscles, and I happened to glance under my couch and instead of seeing the metric ton of cheerios I usually see, I saw Trout's reading bag with her books and journal in them.

It's a good thing I was already on the floor or the impact when I hit the ground after my stroke would have done some serious damage.

I called her on the carpet, literally, and demanded she explain herself. She couldn't. Of course she couldn't, she'd just been nailed and she knew it.

Now, I know kids lie. All of them. I did it a ton, too, but really I don't think I did it quite so deliberately when I was her age. And while I know it's normal and I did it, too, it's my job to send the message that this is unacceptable, that if she does this later in life it can lead to fines, imprisonment, and just maybe the loss of public office. And I'm miffed because it's just so disrespectful, and I don't handle that well. So what did I do to her?

The girl down the street invited Trout to her birthday party this coming weekend. Yesterday I marched Trout down to her house so that Trout could explain to both her and her mother why she won't be coming to the party that I'd already said she could go to. She was duly embarrassed. And when I was talking to BigDaddyFish on the phone about it I Emphasized. How. Angry. I. Was. You know, to make a point.

I'd like to say I think this will make an impression, but in reality it will just give her incentive to hone her skills and not get caught next time, right? How would you handle it?

Insult, Have Some Injury, Please, and a Side of Salt for the Wound, Too

The past week and a half has kicked my ass. Done me in. Rode me hard and put me away wet. Really worked me ... alright enough with the cliches already. It was tough.

First it was the lyme disease. Then Monday, my uncle's wife called to tell me her father died. Her parents live in Delaware and because Trout's First Holy Communion was this weekend and that's not exactly something you can reschedule when you have 90 kids getting first communion (it's a big parish), I couldn't go to the memorial service. This may seem like a bit of a distant relation, but my aunt's parents and my grandparents had a relationship that from my experience is kind of rare - they were friends. They had never met outside of the relationship of my uncle and aunt, and wouldn't have if not for them, but they shared a faith and common values, and my aunt's parents were at most of our family gatherings for holidays, birthdays, and anniversaries. I feel really bad that I couldn't be there for her mother like she was for us so many times.

Tuesday the doctor called to say the lyme test was negative, which isn't as good news as you might think. She said that a lot of times the test will show negative if it's too early, so she wants to repeat bloodwork in 4-6 weeks, and keep him on the nasty antibiotic for the full 21 days. He doesn't have a fever anymore, but he's still sleeping more than usual, and nursing a ton. I had him weaned down to once a day, at bedtime, before he got sick, but I just can't deny him that comfort right now.

I mentioned before that I've been having issues with my left knee and my right ankle. The left knee has been grinding when I go up and down steps, particularly when I'm carrying something with some weight to it, like full baskets of laundry, or Trout when she's in trouble and being defiant. The right ankle has been swollen and painful, especially along the inside of the ankle and down underneath to the arch of my foot. After months of BigDaddyFish badgering me lovingly suggesting I get it looked at, I did the research to find and orthopedist and I saw him Wednesday. It is a huge sports medicine group with a young staff, which isn't clear when you just look up orthos in the insurance company database. The doctor was younger than me, which is a great way to make yourself feel ancient when you're not.

After X-rays and watching me walk and grabbing my feet and torturing me practicing Hulk Hogan moves examining them, the upshot is that he thinks I have some mild arthritis in my knee. He gave me a CORTISONE SHOT in the knee, and oh my holy hell did that hurt. If I hadn't ever had an epidural where the doctor missed and hit a nerve it would have been the most painful thing ever. He wants to follow up in 4-6 weeks and then do an MRI if it isn't cleared up and not grinding by then. He also suggested I trim down as much as I can, and well, duh, but even he acknowledged it's hard to do that when you can't exercise much because of the knee and the ankle.

Ah, yes, the ankle. The state of my knee was the good news. The short version with my ankle is that I have a tendon that is degenerating for some reason. Frankly I think that they're ALL degenerating to some degree; I've always had loose joints and could hyperextend pretty easily, and I think all the loosening up that you do during pregnancy has just done a number on them. At any rate, I've got a brace for the ankle that I have to wear pretty much all the time, I have to get prescription orthodics made and wear them in a pair of high-end running shoes like New Balance or Asics which I have yet to purchase, and I get to look forward to some sort of full reconstructive surgery sometime in the future. It isn't bad enough to go there yet, though, in part because it's a mite inconvenient at the moment to be down for the count for months, what with the 4 kids and a move and all.

As if all of that wasn't enough, we've been having issues with Little Man being...well, sad and angry and violent. I've been reluctant to blog about it, and I won't discuss most of it here, but we are quite concerned about him and working on getting him what he needs to feel better. In the course of his acting out recently, he threw himself backwards into our woodframe couch, giving himself an enormous goose egg on his head. Later in the week he started to thrash about as BDF picked him up to take him upstairs to time out, causing BDF to drop him onto the edge of the baby jail playyard where Nemo was. Nemo wasn't hurt but Little Man has a huge bruise on his leg, and somehow in his efforts to not drop Little Man, BDF ended up breaking a toe.

The week hasn't been all bad, but it's been wearying. Trout had her First Holy Communion this past weekend, and we had a lovely day with my best friends and three of their children (they have seven total), including my godson. I even had the presence of mind to ask one of them to take a picture of our family, so we have a rare family photo. BDF's been tweaking his work schedule here and there and we've been spending a lot more time together, both as a family and one-on-one, which has been helping Little Man with his issues. We fishsat for our neighbors this weekend, and it reminded us how much we loved having fish around, so we just might get some more before we move, instead of waiting which was the old plan. The weather has been glorious, and I've been able to work out despite the state of my knee and ankle (he said biking and swimming are great, but don't do much else, NO running - I asked him if he realized the impossibility of running when you have four little kids but he told me not to do it anyway) and I've actually enjoyed it, and I am dropping weight slowly. The brace makes it so it doesn't hurt. This past weekend we were able to dig through eight more rubbermaid bins in the basement and get rid of more stuff and stage more stuff to go into storage.

Man, am I tired.

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The Barenaked Ladies have made a cd for kids called Snacktime due to be released tomorrow, and I had the privilege of reviewing it. See what I thought about it over on Props and Pans.

New York Memories, Old and New

When BigDaddyFish was 5, someone he knew entered his photograph in a contest being held for some famous photographer, who wanted to make a coffee table book about people in America, and he won. BDF has an extremely expressive face, and I've no doubt that is what was so appealling about him. As part of his prize for winning, he and his family were flown to New York. They stayed at the Plaza. They went to the World Trade Center. They went to Central Park. They went all over the place. This had a tremendous effect on BDF. He remembers this trip so clearly to this day, in his late thirties. Fondly. He wanted to provide these kinds of memories for our children.

Since we know no photographers having contests like this, he makes the memories. When Trout was 6, he took her to New York. They flew up on a Friday, went to the Natural History Museum, Central Park, Times Square. They saw The Lion King on Broadway. They saw the Statue of Liberty. They spent the night at a high end hotel in Times Square. They ate pizza and ice cream and went shopping, and flew home Saturday.

BDF told me that the whole time they were there he kept thinking "I wish FishyGirl were here." So two weeks later he took me, since I'd never been.

This past weekend, it was Little Man's turn. Airfare has become quite expensive and Little Man isn't quite as enamored of flying as his sister, so they took the train up on Friday morning and did much of the same stuff. Natural History. Central Park, where they even took a boat out on a gorgeous afternoon. Top of the Rock. And they saw The Lion King.

BDF said Little Man didn't stop grinning the entire time. Little Man has started to suffer a bit of middlechilditis, and we've been having some trouble with him acting out, bad enough that next week we'll be meeting with the school about what we can do to help him. Here's hoping that this trip, this time alone with his dad, with have lasting effects far beyond the memories that they built.