Sunday, bloody Sunday

Just when I thought she was significantly more coordinated and well balanced (in a movement sense), today happened!

She somehow slipped while climbing onto one of the dining room chairs and smacked her face right on the edge of the table. She's got this nice little gash just under her lip (it's oozing still a bit in this picture; it's much more linear) and two little marks inside her lip where here teeth dug into, but did not break the skin of, her lower lip. She looks all pouty all the time. The initial blood was distressing to me, but Gaz was mostly upset by the pain of course.

Freezer teethers helped greatly, as did my not dabbing at her lip after a while. Tonight she surprised me by asking (with grunting and pointing) for Tylenol at bedtime. We're hoping for a much less exciting day tomorrow.

October catches up with Mama

I meant to update this last night, but feel asleep while getting Gaz to bed. I must have really needed it!

We have just returned from her 15mo. appointment and her current stats are: 34 inches in height, 30 pounds six ounes in heaviness, and 47 somethingorothers in head circumfrence. She's still off the chart. She's big enough now that she doesn't have to get up on her tip-toes to see what's on the dining room table, and her reach has grown as well. Best part of the visit is that Dr. C. says that she's progressing so ideally in terms of her vocabulary and coordination that she doesn't need to see her at 18 months. We're going back in a month for the second dose of flu vaccine so we're just going to do her 18 month vaccinations then and we won't have to worry about an actual doctor visit until August. Hooray!

Let's see. . . I keep thinking of things I should be putting down here but now of course they slip my mind. Halloween was a big success. We ended up going over to our friend Lis's house to help her hand out candy and to show off the finished Mothra costume. She's a very popular wee kaiju.

She fell out of bed for the first time last week, which was quite memorable for Mark and I. I scrambled to pick her up off the floor even before I was conscious enough to articulate what was going on--I was awoken from a sound sleep by a loud thump, my daughter was not right next to me, and my body moved instantly toward the end of the bed to pick her up before I knew what I was doing. Mark came rushing in asking how she fell off the bed and I said "I don't know. I was asleep!" She's definitely getting more fidgety in her sleep, but I think this is largely due to her crazy sleep schedule the past few weeks. She's evening out now.

She has her first owie from walking around outside, too. Yesterday we went out in search of discounted candy, and at first Gaz refused to ride in the stroller. She took a little tumble almost a block from home, but was completely unfazed. While we were at Walgreens I noticed a red spot on her hand and sure enough, there was a little scrape there. And even though mean Mama was the one who took soap and water to open wound, she still wanted to cuddle with me after the ordeal was finally over and I was reasonably sure we'd gotten the ick out of her abrasion.

I know there's more new tricks, but I can't think of any right now. Gaz is sleeping off her frustration and shots. I should probably get some straightening up done before Hurricane Gaz arises.

Hope your Halloween was groovy and Happy Day of the Dead to you all!

Ouch

Ouch
Originally uploaded by georgiegrrrrl.

Gaz took a spectacular tumble from the couch last night. I was more of a bounce, actually. I found her climbing on the arm of the couch and went to get her, but before I could get there she flopped backwards, bounced off the cushions and, twisting mid-air, landed face first on the floor. It seems to have scared her (and me!) more than anything else. As soon as I got her Mr. Bump cold pack out of the fridge she brightened up and wouldn't let me hold anything cold to her face.

I'm happy the bruising wasn't more extensive and that the swelling hasn't affected her nursing. Her nose still whistles a little when she breathes, but it's not swollen shut. Small favors. I'm trying not to feel like the horrible mother--I know I had much worse accidents as a child and it sure wasn't my mom's fault.

Oh, the Cranky

Gaz has been on a hair trigger/not sleeping well/not eating as much solids the past couple of days, so naturally I start wondering What's Wrong With My Baby. I call the nurse this morning and she asks if she's running a temperature. Let me tell you about trying to take this child's temperature.

1. Raise Gaz arm; apply thermometer to arm.
2. Gaz starts whining and refusing to let me lower her arm over the thermometer.
3. I persist and she progresses to keening and twisting away from me.
4. I move the thermometer so that it's behind her where she can't see it and try to grab it.
5. Gaz howls and writhes, now crawling away from me while I try to hold onto her and the thermometer.
6. The thermometer has still not registered her temperature, after five minutes of trying to keep it under her arm. Mama gives up and calls nurse.
7. Nurse says "just keep her distracted."
8. Mama asks if this really is the best way to take a temperature; nurse suggests taking a rectal temperature while I'm changing a daiper. Clearly, this woman has not seen Gaz getting her diaper changed.
9. Mama ask when walk-in hours are tomorrow.

::headdesk::

Not to mention that Gaz did finally fall off the couch this morning while I was trying to contain her for temperature taking. But fear not: she was much more upset that I wouldn't let her chew on the cold pack I was trying in vain to hold on the back of her head than she was about bonking her noggin.

And after all this I still don't want to ship her off to the moon. I am a glutton for punishment.

and downward, suddenly

Of course just as soon as she figures out how to climb up onto the coffee table, she also figures out how to creatively fall off the coffee table. We've got it pushed up against a wall, just under some windows. She was on the table and I was sitting on the floor next to it. I foolishly figured that if I just kept nearby to keep her from toppling over one of the three free sides that all would be well. Silly me.

She is strong enough to push the table away from the wall with the greatest of ease, after which feat she immediately fell between the table and the wall: butt and legs first, leaving the top half of her to register her surprise before following the bottom half of her. I threw the table to one side to expose a crying little girl with absolutely no bruises or little red bump marks. You know ultrawhite babies: every little bump usually leaves a red mark for a minute or two. Not even any of those! So mostly she scared the hell out of both of us.

Lessons learned, probably just on my part. We really need to find another place for the coffee table.

why didn't anyone mention this before?!?!

Teething biscuits are perhaps THE most messy thing in the galaxy.

I know, something that solid and rectangular doesn't look like it could be as bad as all that but don't let the little devil fool you. As soon as it encounters baby spit (and oh, can a baby with teeth generate the drool) it liquifies into a sticky brown mess and ever few chomps the baby will inevitably decide that what would be even cooler than chewing on this tasty treat is rubbing said tasty treat all over his/her face, neck, clothing, the carpet, the furniture, Mom, etc. Normally it hurts my wrists to hold her out from my body--deQuervain's tendinitis, remember--but when confronted with her gooey hands all thoughts of wrist pain fled like startled bunnies. I ended up sticking her in the high chair and now that looks like a war zone. It's not technically as gross as diaper detail, but oh the laundry. The Horror; the Horror.

I don't know if we'll ever get Gaz clean. Fortunately being covered in dried cookie residue isn't hampering her nap (if anything, it's helping).

Cruisin' Daddy's Hall of Shame

Gaz has just started cruising along furniture, as I previously mentioned. She was somewhat active when Mark got home from work, so I set about trying to encourage Miss Thang to take a stroll in some manner for one of us to get some video of her. First I took the camera while Mark tried to get her to walk over to him along the coffee table by tempting her with a comb and, when that didn't work, the phone. She loves the phone.

Then we switched and I sat on one end of the couch and waved our electronic sudoku game (from Grandma Judy) at her while Mark operated the camcorder. She loves to play with things we don't want her to, so she immediately sped over to me.

But (there's always a but to these tales) Mark then said that he's zoomed in on the sudoku game and by the time he zoomed out Gaz had made it over to me and stopped walking. I told Mark that I was, of course, going to have to tell everyone of his faux pas. Then I realized that I could tell everyone of his video shame right now.

Let the mocking commence!

tooth and consequences

It had to happen eventually and now it has: Gaz has bloodied her mouth. I was brushing my teeth after my shower this morning and Mark was hanging out with Gaz in the living room. (Lisa's home sick, so Mark's taking some vacation days to cover our childcare needs.) Just as I turned off the faucet I heard the tell-tale pain howls that usually mean that she's just bonked her head or she's aggressively cutting a tooth. I threw open the bathroom door to find Mark coming toward me with Gaz in his arms, blood on his chest, her chin, and her shirt.

Seems she had been goofing around while standing at the coffee table. She lost her footing and crack! Chin hits table and tongue, which is perpetually sticking out of her mouth, gets impaled by tiny sharp teeth on the delicate underside. Once I got a hold of her she quieted right down and started smiling so much I couldn't get her to open her mouth for me to have a look. Figures. Just call me mammabalm. She periodically had whining episodes before I left for work (late, because I had to help comfort the upset Gaz who wasn't always sure if she wanted Mama or Daddy), but seemed to be generally no worse for the wear.

I'm proud of my little girl for bouncing back so easily, thankful that she bit a part of her tongue that doesn't interfere with nursing (no more nursing strikes!), and pleased that Mark and I both managed to handle things without freaking out. We're the level head twins. But now we've resolved to not let her near the coffee table without really, really close supervision, at least until she's steadier on her feet.