The Fish Pond

I'm Big and Old

So, I'm as big as a house.  Really.  For some reason I am carrying this child such that the pants that I walked into the hospital to deliver the other 3 kids in DONT FIT.  Can't get much in them beyond my knee.  The weird thing is that I don't weigh any more than I did at this time in the previous pregnancies.  I've had to order some more maternity clothes to get me through, and this is a BIG DEAL because I'm only 4 foot 10, and even the short length pants are too long.  Guess I'll have some good stuff to sell to short people on Ebay after this baby comes.

Apparently, also, I am old.  I guess I just don't fit into Old Navy's target demographic any more, because all the pants I could find there are under the belly, which was fine until I hit the seven month mark, and ever since then my belly is so big it PUSHES THE PANTS DOWN.  I look like a redneck plumber with a crack problem, constantly hitching them back up again.  It's driving me crazy.  I need the granny pants that come up under my boobs, apparently, and Old Navy just doesn't have them.  This is a blow to my ego.

A couple of other things are making me feel old.  Yesterday as I was driving past one of the high schools I pass to pick up Little Man from school, they apparently got out early, or broke for lunch or something, and all the kids driving out of the parking lot looked like they were 12.  Seriously young.  Now, I know they were at least 16 or they wouldn't have been driving, but man, were they little kids.  I wouldn't have turned MY car over to them.

The other thing is that my cousin is about ready to have a baby.  I am the oldest of the cousins on my mother's side of the family, and if you don't count my sister I am at least 9 years older than the rest.  I babysat most of those kids.  My dear cousin C is about to have a baby girl any day now - she is ten years younger than me.  I remember holding her and changing her diapers.  I keep thinking she's too young to have a baby, but then I remember that she is the age now when I wanted to have my kids, so she isn't really that young at all.  The baby might have a problem with her kidneys, so we are praying everything goes well for her.

I've hit that stage in pregnancy where just moving is a chore, where my hips lock up while I sleep so I gimp like my 82 year old grandfather who's had a broken hip and has a form of bone cancer every time I get up to go to the bathroom, which is at least 4 times a night.  It is hard to get comfortable.  Getting up and down off the floor is a sight to behold (or not, really), so I try not to do it, but sometimes things have to get picked up or a particularly nasty diaper needs to be changed (we do most of them standing up).  I have absolutely no energy, and need a nap every afternoon, though I rarely get one. 

I'm too old for this.  I'm too old for my pants.  I'm too old to be a great-cousin, or second-cousin, or whatever the hell you call that generational link.

Mostly, I'm much too young to feel this damn old.

Getting Rid of Our Vises

Tuesday night, we had a broken chair in our kitchen.  BigDaddyFish and Little Man hauled out their tools and spread them all over the room, and then discovered they needed a different size screw, or something, and so they trooped down to the basement to get what they needed.  I was simultaneously helping Trout with her homework and feeding Sunny some grapes, so we just hung out up here.

First there was tussling, then bumping, then screaming and crying.  The "I'm really hurt" kind of crying, vs. the "I am angry/embarassed/have hurt feelings/am tired/want to get my way" kind of crying.  First, BDF calls us downstairs, but no sooner had I finally wrestled Sunny out of her booster seat straps than BDF comes up the stairs with Little Man in his arms.  Little Man was clutching his foot.  Which. was. covered. in. blood.

BDF put him on the kitchen counter and I kept asking what happened.  Little Man kept crying and screaming that it hurt, and he wanted a band-aid (note to self: post bandaid story from own childhood sooner rather than later).  We explained that we had to both wash off his foot and give it a proper examination.  He wanted nothing of it.  Nothing.  We then resorted to those stupid weak parent bribery attempts to get the kid to do what we wanted, "We will give you cool bandaids/chocolate/cookies/a pony/a new car/your own apartment" (why do we do this?  it NEVER works) and then, since none of those were takers, the stupid parent threats "If you don't let us look at it we'll have to go to the hospital and they'll stick a needle in it/it will fall off/it will turn green/it will grow another toe" (and why do we do this? not only doesn't it ever work but it is mean, too).  Nothin', for at least a half hour.  Wanna know what it took to get him to wash it off?

Letting him use the hose nozzle from the sink to wash it himself.  He stopped screaming and crying.

We finally got it cleaned off, and boy was it nasty.  Bloody, nasty, purple, right at the nail bed of his big toe.  Of course, he had to do this on a day when he hadn't been wearing any shoes for most of the day, so his feet are FILTHY - he looks like a farm kid from the 1800's in the summer.  His feet are practically black.  So despite the hosing off, he is still pretty dirty.  I keep asking what the hell happened.  Somehow, he unscrewed the vise from BDF's work desk (I have no idea how - I didn't have the hand strength to do it, so now I'm weaker than your average almost 5 year old).  BDF thinks he was trying to pick it up and just didn't have any idea how much it weighed.

He dropped it square on his bare foot.  Right on the big toe, just at the base of the nail bed.

Less than an hour after The Incident, though, he was back on the floor with BDF, using the screwdriver to fix the damn chair that started this mess.  Although I was glad he calmed down and the chair was fixed, next time I'll just go buy a new chair at Target - that's safer.

We gave him a bath that night and band aided him up real good, then sent him to bed.  Since then we've been washing it out and re bandaging it (and we need new Boy bandaids, as I can't convince him to go for either Barbie or the Care Bears), and keeping an eye on it, because he is walking on it and we don't think it's broken.  However, it keeps breaking open and bleeding again and again, so this afternoon I took him in to have it looked at, because I'm concerned about infection and though I know he's going to lose the nail, I'm worried about how it's going to grow back in.

Of course, the pediatrician doesn't like how it bumps up at the base of the nail bed, so she wants it x-rayed.

Fortunately, the radiology lab is less than a mile away, so we dash over there 5 minutes before closing (did I mention that I did this in the afternoon because I had to take my grandfather to have cataract surgery yesterday and follow up today?  No?  Sorry, didn't have time) and they take the x-ray.  We are in and out of the office in 15 minutes, including paperwork (note: this doesn't happen in DC.  Ever.)

Little Man says x-rays are fun and they tickle, and he liked that he got to lay on a special pillow that moved up and down like a ride.  I couldn't go in because of the 7 month gestational state of his brother.

Little Man was very brave.  I think he liked all the attention at the lab - and he got TWO stickers.

Since it was so close to closing, we won't get the results til morning.  If it's broken, he'll need to see an orthopedist to decide how to treat it since it's a pretty nasty wound. 

And he starts preschool in the morning.  He will be 5 next week.  He said next time he drops a vise on his foot, he won't be afraid of the x-rays. 

I told him he needs to give up the vises.

How to Make Mom Cry in One Easy Step

Lose your first tooth in PE class, and run off the bus shouting "Mommy!! Mommy!! I lost my tooth!!!"  Trout, age nearly 7, FINALLY lost her first tooth today.  What's the going rate for the tooth fairy these days?

Updated to say I made her entire tooth fairy pillow this evening.  I used white felt, and I put a little pocket out of lavender felt on one side, and on the other I used embroidery thread to put "Trout's Tooth Pillow" and just stitched it up with the stitches showing, all rustic like.  She loves it, and its pocket is full of tooth, and it awaits the Tooth Fairy on her nightstand.  Not bad if I do say so myself.

Can Someone Please Tell Me....

how in the hell my almost five year old son managed to poop on the OUTSIDE of his shorts, but not his underwear or anywhere else on the inside?  Most of it was in the toilet, even.  WTF?

Whitening Not Needed Here

Apparently this is explore your body and its parts week here in the Fish Pond.  Actual incident:

I'm in the bathroom, washing my hands and finishing up when Little Man attempts to open the door.  Thinking he is playing with me, as he usually is, I turn off the light and unlock the door so he can open it.  When he opens the door, I hide behind it.  He doesn't see me, so he reshuts the door, and then opens it again, and then I jump out and shout, "Boo" really loud.  The kids usually love this game.  This time, though, this conversation ensues:

"AAAGGGHHH!  Mom!  Stop that!  We can't play!  Trout has toothpaste in her vagina."

Blink.  "Wha?"

"Come Mom, quick, Trout has toothpaste, the new toothpaste she got at the dentist, in her vagina, and she's crying."  I consider the possibilities as to what this means, none of them good, and possibly necessitating a trip to the ER.  ToothPASTE or toothpaste TUBE?  Either way....

"What the....."  I run up the stairs as fast as my pregnant belly will let me.  RT is standing at the top of the stairs, stark naked, with her hand over her vaginal area, just wailing.

"It hurts, Mommy, it hurts.  It BURNS!  AAAAAAAA!"  She shrieks.  Thankfully, just the paste.  Unfortunately, it is whitening with mouthwash in the formula.

Huh.  Yeah.  I grab the baby wipes and wipe her off the best I can, but she is shrieking about how much it hurts.  I throw her into the tub, instruct her in washing herself, and make sure she gets clean.  After she dries off, I apply diaper ointment to a very, very red area.

"Trout, honey, WHY did you put toothpaste in your vagina?"

"I didn't know what it would feel like."  Well.  I don't know, either, but I imagine about like a fire ant, or hydrochloric acid.  I'm all for experimentation, but somehow didn't think I'd have to worry about this yet.

"Honey, I hope you've learned a lesson.  Don't put anything there that doesn't belong there."

"Okay, Mommy, don't worry, I won't.  Mom, what belongs there?"

Guess it's time to have a little talk.

This is why I can't go pee by myself

In the 3 1/2 minutes it takes me to pee and wash my hands, Sunny took off her diaper and covered herself in yogurt.  All over herself.  Diaper area and all.

I'd drink if I wasn't pregnant.

At least it wasn't the subject of the previous post.