October 16, 2007
Sometimes, though, you get a curve ball. No one on either side of my or my wifeÂ’s family has an allergy to peanuts. So, while we have run into people who have kids who have these allergic reactions, I was pretty sure that it was not an issue for my family.
Well, until now. The baby has one. A severe allergy to peanuts.
We discovered this on Sunday when, at lunch, his face swelled and become covered with white, raised welts and he began coughing and crying and sneezing. The doctor, hearing he was crying and believing he was breathing ok, advised me to drive him down to Greenwich hospital (where he was born, coincidentally).
So, there we are, whipping down the Merritt parkway at 85 miles an hour, in the SUV, when, exhausted from his ordeal, he decides to take a snooze (I realize later). Only, he doesnÂ’t respond when I reach back and grab his leg. Nothing.
I pull into the gas station by New Canaan going 70 mph, convinced that my baby has stopped breathing and that I better get 911 on my cell phone right away. I screech to a halt and the noise and motion wake him up. So, I decide, ok, he is breathing and maybe he is just completely exhausted. I pull back on to the parkway to continue on down, my heart going a million beats a minute, or so.
Have you ever gotten your SUV up to 90, on a twisty parkway, while reaching your right hand back into the back seat to get your index finger under a babyÂ’s nose to make sure you can feel him breathing?
I may have lost two years, or so, of my life on that drive.
We get to the hospital and an EMT immediately comes over to my car, saying, “I figured something was wrong when I saw you come speeding up the ramp”, and he brings us right into the ER and directly to the doctor in charge. By this time, the swelling now includes the whites of the boy’s eyeballs (this was really quite disturbing; I have never seen anything like that before). They need to weigh him but he flips out when I try to put him down on the scale.
His crying continues at a very high volume and with great intensity as they take his clothes off and put him in a baby hospital gown. It then takes two nurses, and me, to hold him down on the bed to get the intravenous line in his arm so they could start the steroids and the other medicine. It upset me to watch this line go in his arm.
It takes forever to calm him, after that.
We sit there, he and I, in the examination room, my shirt soaked from chest to back by his tears, as the medicine starts to work. The benadryl makes him sleepy and he naps on me for about two hours. When he wakes, I feed him some lunch and we wait.
We wait until a little after 8 that night; some seven hours after we pull in to the ER. They need to observe him for a six or seven hour period after the medication is administered.
He was a lot better after his nap. He ate and the swelling had gone right down. He took my hand and we took several laps together in the ER, him in his little gown and diaper, all smiles, by that point. All smiles, up until I asked a nurse to hold him so I could go to the bathroom. He came with me, in the end.
We were home very late, with all sorts of prescriptions for things like Epi Pens and with instructions about making sure he eats no other nut products. The house is being purged of them and when we went out to eat on Monday, we confirmed that the restaurant was not cooking with peanut oil.
We are all a bit exhausted and kind of freaked out by the need to be even more vigilant going forward.
You assess these risks for your life but, like all risk plans, your assessments do not always survive contact with reality.
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October 03, 2007
I guess it sunk in because this is what I overheard when the Girl Child (age 6.5) and the Boy Child (age 4.5) were playing "store" next to where I was reading the newspaper (they had just agreed on the price for whatever they were buying/selling and were now arranging payment terms):
BC: Ok, I'll take it. Let me give you a check.GC: Uh, I would rather take cash. A check is just a promise to pay, you know.
While I am quite pleased she remembered our discussion and understood it and applied it, I am equally saddened by her unwillingness to take her brother's marker. Still, an exquisitely focused grasp of reality, my little girl.
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September 24, 2007
We were returning to the house Friday night after Kol Nidre services. I brought the Girl Child and the Boy Child with me. Kol Nidre is an interesting service, if you were wondering. It is the point in the repentance cycle in which you ask G-d to release you from all the promises and bargains you struck with him during the year and which you were unable to fulfill. It is a nifty little concept. Anyway, we were driving home, me, the kids, and my parents and we got to talking about repentance and the Girl Child asked what that was:
My Father: To repent is tell G-d that you are really, really sorry and to ask him to forgive you.My Mother: And you also tell G-d that you will never do it again.
Me: Or at least, that you will try to never do it again.
GC: Right, that makes more sense. I mean, nobodyÂ’s perfect and people do make mistakes.
Indeed.
The second lesson I learned from my daughter this weekend came during the football game late Sunday afternoon. We donÂ’t watch a lot of television in our house but I do like the occasional game, especially early in the season when, in theory, everyone is tied for first place. The Girl Child was sitting to watch a little with me when a commercial came on and I promptly muted it. The problem is, you see, that the Girl Child can read and this is what happened next:
GC: “Life takes Visa”? No, it doesn’t. That’s so wrong.Me: Oh? What does life take?
GC: Life takes love.
I was a little humbled by that. Such a simple answer but such a significant truth. I cannot help but think that if that is her view of things, my wife and I cannot be doing as bad a job with her as I feared.
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September 17, 2007
We had everyone out the door by 8:50 to head off to Winslow Park where the Viking Bride had arranged a sitting with a photographer for a family portrait, courtesy of a PTA fundraiser. The boys were dressed in matching pants and both in seersucker jackets while the Girl Child picked out a skirt. The baby was not terribly cooperative but I will note that we appeared to be the only family there not in tears so even if we donÂ’t get a good portrait out of it I will still count it as a moral victory. Then, back to the car.
Off we went home to get the Girl Child changed for riding and the Viking Bride changed for her dance class. She took the GC off and I played with the boys. The Boy Child and I played balloon tennis (hitting a balloon back and forth to each other with our hands) for a half an hour and the baby played with cars. Then, I loaded the boys into the car and we toddled off to watch the end of the GCÂ’s riding lesson.
We arrived just in time to be told that we missed seeing her jump. Actually, I was kind of disturbed when the instructor told me, with a sort of awed tone of voice, that the GC is totally fearless and that instead of jumping over a piece of pipe laying on the ground, she and her pony went over two pieces of pipe crossed in an X and at much greater speed than she was supposed to be going. “Ah, well”, I was told, “at least she didn’t fall off”. Yes, I was left very reassured indeed. That said, I was really pleased at the progress the GC has made in the short time she has been doing this. She posts along like a pro and her instructor seems to think that she has great potential here since she is without fear. She looks so much more comfortable in the saddle, happy to kick her horse into moving faster, happy to trot along and do her own thing.
Her lesson finished at 11:00. She was loaded into the car, still in riding gear, and given a snack and a drink, and we headed off to Sunday School, arriving just in time. I took her chaps off in the parking lot and brushed her hair from the damage her riding hat had caused. Sunday School started at 11:15.
The boys and I went back to the house for more balloon tennis and to wait for the Vking BrideÂ’s triumphant arrival from dance class. Then we all went off back to the Club to get lunch. Unfortunately, the Club was closed due to hosting a major antique car show. The cars on display were stunning and, in the parking lot, I saw more Porsches and Ferraris in one place than I have ever seen before. We admired the cars and listened to the ceremonial starting of the engines. The race cars made fairly impressive noises.
After lunch at home, the boys were shooed off to bed for naps and I returned to the synagogue to fetch the GC from Sunday School at 1:15. She assured me it went well. She was given a snack at home and packed a bag to be taken by the Vking Bride off to a 2:00 swimming birthday party. I stayed home, breathed a sigh of relief and did what manly men do all over the country – I turned on the football game and did some ironing.
The BC woke up at 2:45, just as I was going up to get him. He put on his tennis whites and had a snack as we waited for the VB to return from dropping the GC off at her party. She came back and the BC and I immediately left to hit the tennis courts at the Club. We were on the courts by 3:00 and we played for an hour and ten minutes.
I could not believe how good the BC was at tennis. We worked on getting his racquet back and watching the ball throughout the stroke and he was soon getting the ball back over the net consistently and with great coordination. Every time he concentrated on watching the ball, he had no problems unconsciously moving his body to the right place to make contact. And every time he hit it back to a place I could not reach it, he was positively gleeful. Whenever I told him how well he was doing, he positively glowed and he buckled down and concentrated even harder. We actually had a four hit rally at one point with him hitting the same ball back to me four times in a row. After one series, he told me happily that I had said “wow” two times! I was also really pleased at how he was able to maintain his concentration for a total of 70 minutes without flagging at all. On our last 10 balls, he dinked the first one into the net and declared that it didn’t count towards our ten because only the ones he hit over could count. He appeared to be delighted with the whole experience. I know I was.
We arrived home just before the GC and her gang at 4:20. The BC and I washed our tennis clothes and got ready for dinner. We went out to a new (for us) restaurant in Fairfield which, while it turned out to be expensive, was quite good and made the VB very happy. The baby was in an exceptionally good mood all dinner, blowing kisses to people, playing hide and seek with his napkin, playing peek-a-boo with the clearly enthralled wait staff, chirping to all the new customers as they came in, all while putting down almost as much food as the BC did.
It was funny but it was during dinner that the GCÂ’s clear competitiveness came through loud and clear. The GC, BC, and I were playing a game that they like to play in which they have to guess what number I am thinking of between 1 and whatever I pick. The BC won three times in a row. The GC was practically beside herself, insisting that we keep playing and would only consent to stop playing after she won a couple of times herself. The girl cannot stand to lose at anything. Period. The BC, while competitive, is clearly a bit more laid back. It was just interesting to watch. She was leaning forward on the edge of her seat and carefully considering all of her options before she was prepared to hazard a guess.
After dinner, we were home in time for another chapter of the mystery we are reading together and then they were all off to bed.
A successful but very busy weekend day.
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August 30, 2007
Me: You realize that the Supreme Court has held that you can have no expectation of privacy with respect to your locker, don't you?GC: What does that me-- wait, that means that if I bring stuff in to school and put it in my locker, I can't expect that it will be private, right? People can look in it?
Me: Exactly. It is not like your night table at home where you can keep your private things.
GC: [Said with a smile] So, I shouldn't bring my night table to school.
Me: Right.
I was more than a bit surprised that she immediately grasped the concept.
I am pretty sure that she is going to be a lot smarter than I am.
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August 29, 2007
While we waited for the bus, I unclipped the hair brush she keeps on her back pack and I brushed her hair. Stroke after stroke, taking out the knots she missed, making her hair gleam in the morning sunlight, making her hair soft and pretty. I clipped the brush back on her pack as the bus came up the road, collected my kiss, and sent her on her way.
First grade. Where does the time go?
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August 08, 2007
The Viking Bride told me that the Camp Director told her that a ghost story was making the rounds at camp and it had scared the heck out of all of the kids. The Girl Child told us about it, too. It has to do with Bloody Mary (no, not the cocktail) who has had her head chopped off and is now coming to do the same thing to you if, in a dark room, you call her name three times. The VB did not improve the mood when she told the kids to try it and they did and when they got to the third repetition of the name, she yelled, "BOO!!!"
We realized later how seriously the Girl Child took this when her bed was empty when we went to check on her before going to bed ourselves. We found her sleeping with the Boy Child. They were sharing his pillow. She was sleeping on her side, face to the wall. The Boy Child was sleeping on his back with his right arm thrown back, over the Girl Child's shoulders, as if he was comforting her or shielding her. The Viking Bride and I both said, "awwwww", at the same time. It was terribly sweet. We left them there.
This morning, the VB told me that when she spoke to the GC about it, she said:
VB: Aren't you lucky to have a brother who loves you so much and who protects you?GC: When I am with him, I'm not scared. All he has to do is touch me and the scared goes away.
Again, awwww.
I am tempted to throw salt over my shoulder and spit at the ground in an attempt to avert the evil eye. I am clearly a lucky guy.
Where did these children come from?
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August 07, 2007
She expressed great interest, it was reported to me by the Viking Bride, in acquiring her own horse. Uh huh. She had the following conversation with her riding instructor. I admire her ability to keep driving at an answer:
GC: If I wanted to buy a horse, how much do they cost?RI: You would have to save up your pennies.
GC: How many pennies?
RI: A lot.
GC: Well, how long would I have to save them for?
RI: A long time.
GC: Ok, how about this horse? How much would it cost to buy this horse?
RI: He's not for sale.
Like a good litigator taking a deposition, she just kept on going to try to get her answer. I am really quite proud.
The instructor told the Viking Bride, by the way, that the Girl Child is absolutely fearless. I gather that this is meant to be a good thing.
The Girl Child is already speaking with great anticipation about getting to canter so she can start jumping.
Interesting aside, I have noticed that when it comes to sporting activities, the Girl Child is not so much of a team player. She has shown a marked preference for the individual sports: swimming; riding; tennis; and martial arts. Not a team sport in that entire list. She's going to have us sign her up for the local YMCA swim team for the winter. She's keen to acquire another team swim suit. I don't know quite what lessons to draw from this observation but it is clear, as it always has been, that she is quite comfortable living inside her own head and playing by herself. I guess her sport interests are an outgrowth of this.
Either way, I find her to be a creature of endless interest and boundless fascination. I am so lucky to have a daughter.
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July 27, 2007
I started the day with the Boy Child, though. He had his tennis lesson at camp that morning and I took both kids to camp so I could attend his lesson. It started very badly. He came up to the front, took the racquet in his right hand, turned his body, and flailed pathetically at the ball with the ugliest forehand I have ever seen on a child. It was horrible. I could not believe he had the guts to get up there and perform so badly, week after week. I couldn’t just sit there. So, I called out the pro and interrupted the lesson: “Hey! Jaime! Did you know that the Boy Child is a LEFTY?” Oh, he replied. The Boy Child was then duly turned to his other side, the racquet was switched to his left hand, and he began banging the ball around. It was a marked improvement almost immediately. I was very gratified. I believe that the pro and the Boy Child were also gratified. The lesson lasted an hour. In the sun. I had carefully applied sunscreen to the kids but not, of course, to myself. Tant pis.
I then walked over to meet the Girl Child to accompany her to her horseback riding lesson. You should have seen this gorgeous little thing – long, lean, bronzed, in her riding hat, boots, and chaps, striding along like she owned the world. Reminded me of the description my grandfather used to give of me, actually. So, as it turned out, this was a perfect day to attend her riding lesson. This was the first time the riding instructor took her off lead and let her walk and trot around the ring all by herself. It was a big day, according to the instructor. The instructor assured me that the Girl Child was doing very well. She looked so great on her pony, her back straight and her manner very confident. She was also quite pleased to be allowed to ride the pony back to the barn from the ring. I was quite happy to witness that. Then I went home, to meet my sister and nephew to take them to lunch.
Fortunately, they were late. That gave me time to review a major settlement agreement and make comments to my client. That was a huge boost and made me thank whoever made my Blackberry possible.
After lunch, I collected the Girl Child, still damp from the pool but proudly sporting her swim team bathing suit. We drove over to the other Club through the back roads. Can I just say, whoa, there are a lot of old and beautiful houses in Fairfield County.
As I said above, I believed that it was a short meet for us. SheÂ’d be in the first heat and then weÂ’d take off. I declined, therefore, the request to act as a timer. I mean, I didnÂ’t think weÂ’d be there that long.
Then the swim coach came up to the Girl Child, bent down to look her in the eye, and asked her if instead of swimming with the minnows, if she felt up to swimming a leg of the backstroke relay with the bigger kids. No hesitation at all. She simply looked up and said, “yes”. She started the race, the first one after the minnows did their thing. She got in the pool and hoisted herself up on the handles. I leaned over and told her to bend her legs so she could explode out and back and she did that, looking up at me for a moment, squinting in the glare of the sun, and we waited for the announcer to blow her whistle. I stood there and looked down at her and I thought I was going to cry, I was so proud of her. Her first big kid swim meet! I was so happy I could be there. When the whistle went, she threw herself backwards and backstroked with all of her might, until she got hung up for a moment on the lane divider. I walked the whole length of the pool, yelling “GO!” and otherwise cheering for her. If she had not gotten hung up on the divider, she had a shot at beating one of the older kids because she actually caught up and almost passed one of them.
We walked back to the start where her coach congratulated her on her efforts and asked her if she felt like she was up to swimming a freestyle event, too. Again, no hesitation, just an immediate yes. She relaxed for a moment or two, sitting on the grass and throwing it at some of her friends, who threw it back at her. Then her race was called. The freestyle girls, 8 and under. She climbed up onto the racing start platform like she had been doing it all her life and got into a racing start position. The whistle blew and she kind of launched herself forward and sort of fell forward into the pool. She swam her little heart out. A much better effort than anything the Viking Bride had described having witnessed at earlier meets. She came last, again, but only barely, I think. Again, I walked the length of the pool, cheering my head off for her. I may have been the only parent to do that, come to think of it.
Again, we walk back together and again her coach approaches her and asks her if she is up for swimming one more event, the 8 and under freestyle relay. Again, no hesitation in answering yes. Again, she swam her little heart out and again she finished last. But there was no hesitation in effort on her part. She left everything in the pool.
She swam three events, under pressure of real competition, when she normally only swims one event with no pressure. I asked her if she was scared when she was waiting for whistle to blow and she said, no. Nervous? No. Nothing.
We stayed for the team cheer but she passed on the popsicle in favor of taking off and eating the goldfish she had reserved from her lunch box. As we got to the car, and she climbed in, she looked at me and said, “Boy, I sure am going to sleep good tonight.”
While we were off swimming, the Boy Child was at music class to try out an instrument to see what he might like to start taking lessons on. He had been partial to the flute, before, but today was the cello. The teacher was impressed that he knew all the parts of the cello and liked the Boy Child’s fancy bow – one arm behind his back and one arm in front of his stomach. The teacher told him that the cello bow was different, just arms to the side. He showed me later – just leaned over, looked down, and said, “hello, toes!”. On the ride back, the Viking Bride asked him if he wanted to go back to see a group lesson on the flute and he declined, saying, “no, I’ve seen enough”. He picked the cello, explaining that with the flute you have to keep blowing into the instrument and he didn’t think he could hold enough air in him to do that. Also, he liked the sound of the cello.
Well, I thought that all of these accomplishments today merited a celebration dinner out and I let the kids pick. Pizza it was. As we sat over dinner, we had the following exchange:
Girl Child: See, thereÂ’s this problem. . .Me: If you are not part of the solution, you are part of the problem.
Viking Bride: If you are part of the problem, get out of the way.
[small silence and then the Boy Child pops up, earnestly]
Boy Child: Pappa? I am part of the solution!
If I could have picked a day to take off from the office, this would easily have been the day I wanted to have. It was perfection.
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July 24, 2007
So, last night, I had the following exchange with my little diplomat:
Me: What did you guys do at camp today with all of that rain?
BC: We mostly did art projects and watched a movie. I made two projects, Pappa. One for you and one for Mamma. Which one do you want?
Me: I want the best one!
BC [Pausing to think for a second] Ok, Pappa, you can have the best one. [Turns to his mother] And you, Mamma, can have the VERY best one!
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July 23, 2007
interchanges we had last night:
[I am in the bathroom brushing the Girl Child's teeth and the Boy Child comes in with a scrawled all over piece of paper]
BC: Pappa, read my sign!
Me: I can't, BC. You read it to me.
BC: It says: "Do not come into the Boy Child's room because of the poetry".
Me: Poetry?
BC: Yeah, poetry. We have poetry every night at 12:00.
GC: Wow! Can I come?
BC: Sure!
* * *
Me: Well, goodnight, young man.
BC: What do you mean when you call me "young man"?
Me: Well, you are not yet a man but when you act so grown up, I want to
let you know that.
BC: Well, I am not a baby anymore.
Me: You are always going to be my baby.
BC: It is my room and I make the rules here.
Me: Really? What are your rules?
BC: First, no monsters.
Me: That's a good one. Any more?
BC: Then, no trolls. After that, no cars with strangers in them and no
cars with bad guys in them.
[pause]
BC: I have a lot more rules, I just can't remember them right now.
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June 22, 2007
There he stood, next to the kitchen table, naked as a jaybird, hair still wet from his bath, very earnest and hopeful expression on his face as he shyly stumbled through the following:
Pappa, I know I can't read, but do you think you could make me a note telling me how proud you are of me for pre-school?
The Boy got his note, left for him next to his breakfast spot for discovery when he came down this morning.
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June 15, 2007
Grandfather: Boy, that donut sure looks good. I am sooo hungry. I wonder if anyone wants to offer me a bite.Boy Child: You're kidding, right?
The Viking Bride joined me in New York City last night for another black tie affair; my last black tie affair until the autumn arrives (I hope). The babysitter drove her, along with the kids, to the train station. On the way, the babysitter told my wife the following:
Listen, I have to tell you that I have asked the children not to speak Norwegian around me. I am pretty sure that every time they are speaking Norwegian, they are plotting against me.
The babysitter, while possibly paranoid, is certainly correct. I am so proud of the kids for realizing the potential of a good, secret language. Up the revolution!
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May 29, 2007
There are only two choices for drinks and that is totally unacceptable. They did have pink lemonade; however, it was yucky.
A very tough customer.
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April 18, 2007
The Girl Child said that they shared the window seat. Their plan, she explained, was to switch seats at every stop so that they each got turns at the window. I was holding their hands and walking them back to Grand Central when she told me this and so I turned to the Boy Child on my other side and asked him whether this was his plan, too.
"No", he told me, "that wasn't my plan". "My plan was that whoever got there first got the window".
Not a bad plan but it did not survive contact with his sister.
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April 06, 2007
I wouldn't trade it for anything.
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April 05, 2007
Guess who found the afikomen?
I declined to allow my dad to give her more money than her brother received. I sort of felt like she wasn't playing fair. Although I was secretly pretty amused by her sleight of hand.
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April 02, 2007
This morning, walking to work after my morning squash match (lost, but it was close and who cares since it was so much fun anyway) and weight lifting, I cut across another guy's path to cross the street. I tend to walk very quickly and I easily passed in front of him without him even having to break step. Just the same, he spit out: "F*!k you". Maybe that's just normal behavior in his neighborhood, beats me. So, the post-three children guy that I have become responded, without thinking about it, not that way I would have 6 years ago "("Oh yeah? Suck my ****, you asshole!), but:
HEY!! That wasn't very nice!!!
Any street cred that I ever might have plausibly laid any potential claim to is now officially dead, kaput, gone, history, finished.
I am now officially rated G, even when angry.
That G rating does not apply when I am behind the wheel, however. Just saying.
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March 28, 2007
After school, I took her away with me for lunch, just the two of us. Well, I had lunch and I let her just have dessert since she had eaten lunch earlier at school. Over lunch, we had a wide ranging conversation and I told her that I was having difficulties with her definition of pattern since I thought that the word design implied a conscious decision to create something and that seemed to me that it would leave out the patterns created in nature. She thought for a second and told me that wasn't right. First, she said, the patters in nature were created by God. She pulled a leaf off of her sprig of mint and held it up to show me the tracing of lines that constituted a pattern. She reminded me that the world and everything in it was created by God and therefore it was all a conscious design. Or, didn't I believe that God created the world? I decided simply to assure her that I did and enjoy her reasoning, complete with visual aid.
It was a gorgeous day in Westport. It was 75 degrees (or 24 celsius) and blue skies everywhere. I came back with the GC and collected the BC, changed into shorts, and took them both to the beach playground to run around for an hour or so. The ice cream guy was out and, after playing, I bought them each a popsicle and we sat by the edge of the ocean while they ate their ice cream and we all chatted. It was idyllic.
Hope you are all as great as we were yesterday!
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March 23, 2007
Yikes! Its my mom!
We have no idea why he said that but I have been amused all day by it.
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