Some Weekends Are Like That, Even in Australia

Friday night, Virginia hit her head while we were visiting the Grandparents. Virginia hits her head a lot these days because she is pulling to stand on anything she can get her hand on. Frequently she doesn't cry at all. If she does I comfort her and she gets back on the horse. Friday night she was pretty upset, but like always, I calmed her down and she went back to playing.

I stepped out of the room to talk to my mom on the phone and the next thing I knew, John was calling for me urgently. Virginia had just coated him in vomit. I took her and cleaned her off while John cleaned himself off. I was kind of concerned, but everyone insisted that they had been dancing with Virginia and she had gotten too jiggled up. So we decided to assume that was why she had puked and take her home.

Only, at home she started puking some more, and fearing she had a head injury we took her to the ER. Four hours and one CT scan later, they sent us home saying it didn't look like she was damaged.

Virginia threw up a couple more times on Saturday morning, but she stopped vomiting after I gave her a bath and later she developed diarrhea so we felt confident that she had a stomach bug.

This morning Virginia still wasn't interested in solid food, but was doing great. Then I got sick. Really, really sick. It seemed like the more time passed, the more life was being drained out of me. I couldn't keep anything in my stomach and was getting dehydrated and weak. By the time John found a doctor for me to go to I could barely walk to the car.

The nurses insisted on checking all types of vitals before giving me something that would make me feel better. It was especially hard to find my blood pressure. I think I had low blood flow to my extremities because fingertips, toes, and lips were tinged blue. I wanted to scream, "Just make it better!"

They finally gave me an injection in the behind (that really hurt and made my hip cramp) and after waiting a certain amount of time had me shoot a grape flavored antispasmodic. I promptly threw it back up. They gave me the injection in the other hip, waited, then had me shoot the purple goo again. And I promptly threw it up.

After that they sent me home. I was sorely disappointed because I was still so shaky I could barely walk. But, the drugs seemed to finally kick in and I've been slowly getting my strength back since we have been home.

The worst part of this: I can't breastfeed Virginia while I'm on these medications. She is old enough that I think she'll be okay without milk for a few days and plenty of solid food and water. But she doesn't understand what is going on and it breaks my heart.

Nevertheless, this is the only time I have been so sick that I was afraid of what was going to happen to me. So, I am very grateful that these medications exist.

And now I need to see if my sore hips will let me drift off to sleep.

Overheard

The past two days have been especially good for funny gems from my students.

Yesterday I had a third grade class I was teaching about folktales. We had already spent one lesson on folk tales and fairy tales. Yesterday we were focusing on tall tales. I read them the story "Pecos Bill," asked them what exaggerations they heard, and then let them play add-on telephone. We had played telephone at the beginning of the last class to demonstrate how folktales change with retelling (but hopefully retain some of their original message). I thought playing again would be a fun way to end class, and letting them purposely add to or change the message could let them experiment with exaggeration. The young man who went first informed us that his phrase had been "bunnies like pie." Twenty children later it turned into "fart pie on a bucking bronco."

Today I had two fifth grade classes and a fourth grade class. During book check-out time for the first fifth grade class several gentlemen were standing around a computer, performing various searches and talking to each other. A cheerleading book showed up on the screen and one young man said, "My sister's a cheerleader."

Another young man said, "Oh, your sister's a cheerleader?"

The first young man answered, "She's too old for you, son."

Book Book Book

Virginia said her first word this week! It was "book."

Very fitting, since I am a librarian and John is a lawyer. We think we may teach her to say "database" next.

But seriously, the fact that she has learned to say "book" isn't mystical at all. She plays with a book while having her diaper changed (thanks to the advice of Funky Mama Bird). Every time I change her diaper I hand her the book and say "book."

So now what has started happening is I hand her the book and she says "book!" She definitely knows the changing table book is a book, but she has commented on other books, too. So maybe she has understanding of the Aristotelian concept of book-ness.

Virginia also claps and occasionally holds her arms up over her head to indicate that she is "so big." It is very exciting to realize that she understands what we are saying to her and is able to respond.

Red Tastes Better

Virginia likes to eat red strawberries, red raspberries, and red peppers.

Yes, red peppers.

I have been trying to offer her more of the foods that John and I eat. She is a really good eater, and what is mostly holding her back is the fact that she doesn't have many teeth. (The two in the bottom front are currently at about half mast.)

Anyway, John and I had quesadillas the other night and I gave Virginia some of the chicken and peppers I used. The chicken had been cooked in the crock pot and then frozen, specifically for use in quesadillas, so it was shredded and tender.

Virginia liked the chicken, but when she saw a red pepper... Well, she pulled the chicken off the pepper strip by strip, dropping many pieces on the floor. The she delightedly put the pepper in her mouth. Why did the pepper have to be chicken free? I don't know.

But Virginia does like red foods. And apparently she likes them better when they aren't mixed up with anything else.

Twix Bear Cub

When John and I were on our spring road trip across England and Wales an incident happened which spawned the term "Twix Bear."

We had stopped at a rest stop and John had gotten a couple of candy bars. As he was getting into the car a Twix fell out of his hand and got lost under the car seat. He roared and pawed at the seat until he finally retrieved the Twix.

I sat in stunned silence and once he finally calmed down, all I could do was laugh. John looked at me and said "What?" I said, "You were like a bear. 'Rawr, I lost my Twix bar!!!'"

Then John started laughing, too. Since then, if John gets upset over something kind of silly, we say he has turned into the "Twix Bear."

Yesterday Virginia was trying to climb up John and got kind of frustrated (she isn't as mobile as she wants to be). John said he thinks its funny how she can get mad so easily about silly things. I said, "Oh, like the Twix Bear?"

Virginia must be a Twix Bear Cub.