More book blogging

Reading the OED: One Man, One Year, 21,730 Pages by Ammon Shea

My review

Rating: 5 of 5 stars
Funny - almost enough to make me want to pick up a copy of the OED myself. Shea's description of his struggle to get through the definition of the word "set" by itself is worth reading.

Enlightening - each of the 27 chapters (one for each letter of the alphabet and one for the bibliography, which was exceedingly boring apparently) begins with a stream-of-consciousness type narrative and ends with an eclectic sample of seldom heard and even less often used words.

Refreshing - I read this in a couple of days after reading a much weightier volume, and it was a welcome change.

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Book blogging

Dreams from My Father: A Story of Race and Inheritance by Barack Obama

My review

Rating: 5 of 5 stars

Beautifully written, if somewhat overwrought at times. Written before Barack Obama had any presidential aspirations (and it's obvious in his plainspoken accounts of the drug use, drinking and smoking of his youth), this book is a moving account of a man between standing between worlds trying to find his place. It was great fun to read in the final days of the campaign that would make the author the President of the United States.

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MY FEEP!

C-Rex jumped off the couch at daycare. The sitter was just across the room cleaning up from lunch, and CR and another boy were both standing on the couch. She told them they needed to sit down or get off, and they both jumped off the couch. CR hit the floor hard - but on his feet, gave a yell and started screaming. She called me right away, (I could hear him screaming in the background) and I told her to watch it for a while and call me if he were still crying in 30min. She called back 15min later and said she thought it was getting worse and asked if I would be OK with her giving him some Tylenol. I said yes.

So I cut my errands short and hurried back to get him. She had finally calmed him down a bit, but he of course started crying again as soon as he saw me. We got him to the doctor, but while we were sitting and waiting I was looking at his foot and ankle - wiggling them around - and nothing seemed swollen or discolored. Nothing looked wrong, but when I put him on the floor he curled his left foot under his bum and cried out, "my feep! my feep!" The doctor came in and asked me to take off his pants so he could look at his whole leg. He took both legs and bent them up and down, stating, "his hips are OK, and his knees. His thighbone is good. His ankle and toes and all of the bones in his feet" (this as he carefully fingered each bone in turn). Then he took the boy's calf in his hands - firmly but gently - and CR flipped out, screaming, "Hey! TOP IT! TOP IT! Owie! My feep!!"

The doctor said he was pretty sure it was broken and sent us to the hospital for an x-ray. At the hospital the admissions girl was surly and rude. She couldn't find the order for the x-ray and kept us sitting there for 20min. Finally she got everything she needed and sent us over to radiology. They took the films - C-Rex hated it b/c he had to hold his leg out straight and not move. Plus he was not digging the little lead apron they wanted to cover his boy bits with. I had to hold him down for the pictures, but we got through it. Then we waited for the films to be read and for further instructions from the doctor. The word finally comes down that, yes, he has a broken leg. In fact, he has *two* broken bones. The verdict is "non-displaced buckle fracture of the tibia and the fibula."

All this time the boy's mood is surprisingly upbeat considering the fact that he has two broken bones and has not had a nap.
Finally we went back to the doctor's office where we waited another million years and finally ended up with a blue cast that goes from his mid-thigh down to his toes. The casting process was the worst part of the day. He had to be held down by two people (me and a medical student) while the nurse and the doctor wrapped his leg in the casting material. He screamed and tried to thrash and kick, and we were holding him down! It seemed like it was never going to end!

Of course, it did, but that only left me with a very unhappy boy with a massive new weight holding him down. He wanted it OFF and tried and tried and TRIED, crying "pease! pease! I need on!" (He doesn't get the difference between off and on all that well).

He's sleeping now, but I don't know what kind of a night I've got ahead of me. By the end of the day he was crawling around well enough, but he's still pretty ticked that he can't stand up. He's got to have the cast on for at least four and a half weeks, and I can't bathe him in the meantime. I guess he'll be a bit ripe for the next month or so.

So that's my saga. Honestly, I'm surprised it took him this long to end up at the hospital, as I've been expecting it for the last year or so - ever since he became mobile, really. I thought it would be a cracked open skull, but a broken bone is just as good.

I'm exhausted - it's been a LONG, crazy day.

A Brief Update

My boy likes to sit on the potty. But don't try to take his diaper off for it. No, he'd just like to sit with his clothes on and make a "sssssss!" sound. It's pretty cute. Hopefully this means he's getting close to actual potty training.

I'm actually pretty spoiled about diaper issues right now. Since the boy goes to daycare all day most days, I don't deal with a whole lot of diaper mess. It's a pretty sweet deal.

(edited to remove the repetitive "actually"s - where's my thesaurus?)

Ulcers

Apparently they will keep you up nights.

C-Rex had a fever a few days ago and has been HORRID ever since. He has kept me awake through the wee hours of the night and has been cranky and clingy beyond measure. I finally had enough, and we went to the doctor. I suspected teeth, because he's just at the right age for his 2-year molars, but he wouldn't open for me to have a look.

At the doctor's office his temperature was fine. He weighed in at 23lbs, which is low for some people's kids, but totally normal for mine. The doctor checked his ears and saw nothing, and then he had to pry little guy's mouth open with a tongue depressor. He wedged it between his teeth and turned it on it's end like a key in a lock before getting a split-second glimpse of the back of C-Rex's throat. "Oh yeah, it's a viral enanthem," he stated confidently. Kind of a virus's last ditch effort to wreak havoc on a body that has kicked it's viral butt. He said it's wicked painful, but it should clear quickly. In the meantime he gave me a prescription for viscous oral lidocane to coat his mouth and throat and let him get relief.

Let's hope, anyway.

Book blogging - SPOILER ALERT

Natural Selection: A Novel by Dave Freedman

My review

rating: 3 of 5 stars



Eh.

A viral infection originating in the sea drives an ancient predator out of the depths. This nightmarish predator somehow manages to leap evolutionary tall buildings in a single bound, not only leaving the sea but learning to thrive on land. Wings that used to propel the animal through the water are now used to soar above the clouds. A vestigial air bladder is miraculously adapted - in a single day no less - to breathing air. Eyes that evolved in the pitch blackness of the deep oceans can not only withstand the brilliant glare of the sun but are somehow super keen. This animal could threaten the future of humanity.

Ok, so the idea was fresh, I'll give it that. But can you say pre.dict.a.ble? Was I shocked when the one guy who was supposed to be one of the good guys turned out to be a slimy character? Nope. Was I surprised by the standard horror-movie twist at the end? Not a bit. The book jacket calls it an excellent beach read. That's laying it on rather thick. Sure, it's an OK book, pure escapism, but it's not likely to keep beach-goers out of the water.


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I'm a BAD parent

I don't plan on paying for my kids' college educations.

There was a program on NPR recently about this topic. One young woman called in and told her story. She is starting school this fall at [expensive Ivy League school] after having been accepted to two other schools which both offered her full tuition scholarships - one even offered a full tuition with stipend scholarship. She turned both down, and instead chose to attend [EILS]. It will cost upwards of $200,000 for her to earn her degree, and her parents are taking out a home equity loan to pay for it. So that's their choice. However, she went on to talk about how a good education was worth the sacrifice, and how it would be so worth it in the end.

The thing that burned me was that SHE was not sacrificing ANYTHING. Then, to make things even more unbelievable, she went on to say that because she had chose this ridiculously expensive school, and her parents were essentially mortgaging their future for her sake, her little brother - several years behind her - would not be able to have the same opportunity. Because her education - which she could have gotten for FREE - is sucking up all of her parents equity, her younger brother will be screwed.

I paid for my own college education. I got Pell grants and student loans, and I worked a part-time job. I've got a modest pile of debt to pay off, but it's MY debt. Not my parents'. All of my siblings that went to college have likewise paid their own way.

So I'm a bad parent, but I won't feel guilty about it.

Book blogging

Savage Pastimes: A Cultural History of Violent Entertainment by Harold Schechter

My review

rating: 5 of 5 stars
I like to bring books to school as I finish them to share them with my students as a way to inspire them to read. I won't be doing that with this one.

There were pictures.

They were mostly illustrations from very old thrill rags - by very old I mean eighteenth century and older, but even so they were more graphic than I'd want to share with my students.

The author's main argument is that they hysterics over the violence in the media - TV, movies, video games - is blown out of proportion. As it turns out, our culture is far less violent now than it has been in the past, and that vicarious violence or violent imagery can actually serve to reduce violence in society.

It was a pretty fascinating book.

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She's big

I got a phone call today from Coio. She was playing at a friend's house, and she decided she wanted to come home, so she called me. She remembered her phone number and everything.

This may not seem all that remarkable, but it was the very first time she has ever used the phone on her own. She's never been very interested in gadgetry. She doesn't talk on the phone, she doesn't play games on the computer (much), and she has no idea how to work the remote control.

Yeah, she's six and a half.

I assume she'll get it eventually, and then I'll be all bothered with her grabbiness of my gadgets, but for now it was a sweet moment. The first time my child picked up a phone to make a call, and it was *me* she calls.

How to Get Attention FAST in the ER

Tell them you have chest pain.

I woke up yesterday morning with flu-like symptoms and a searing pain deep in my chest. I couldn't catch my breath because each attempt to fill my lungs brought on a sharp pain and a coughing fit. Needless to say, I was rather alarmed. Especially when I called the urgent care clinic and was told not to come in but rather to go directly to the ER.

So we left the kiddos with grandma and grandpa, and off we went. Most people probably know what it's like to visit an emergency room. You sign in and are seen by the triage nurse only to wait around for ages to be seen by a doctor. This was not that kind of visit. I was seen at triage and immediately taken to a bed. Within minutes the nurse intern and her supervising RN had been in to see me and take my vital signs, and *while I was changing into the gown* the doctor knocked on the door. It had been about fifteen minutes since I had arrived at the ER.

The doctor did a physical exam and ordered all sorts of labs and tests. The nurses came back and inserted an IV. No one had told me she was an intern, but when she inserted the IV and started saying things like, "where did it go?" I sort of figured it out. They drew blood and hooked me up to a bag of fluid. Apparently someone had decided I needed fluids because my blood pressure was hovering around 85/55. Had anyone bothered to ask, I could have told them that is *normal* for me. But whatever.

Then for added fun and excitement, a phlebotomist came in and stuck me again for an arterial blood gas, or ABG. This is a super-fun procedure, in which the tech has to stick a needle into an artery that he cannot see. No, this one is done all by feel. I was very nervous about this one, but the tech was a pro, and he stuck the artery on the first go. I also had an EKG and later a chest x-ray. At one point there were four or five nurses and techs in my room at once, and I felt like a patient on House.

A couple of hours passed. Things were moving quickly, and the nurses came frequently to check on me - mainly because the automatic monitoring machine kept sounding an alarm every time it took my blood pressure. Those things are picky about what is an acceptable reading, and mine was certainly not acceptable. Finally, around 2:45 the doctor came in and told me the labs all looked good, and that the chest x-ray had shown some bronchitis and pleurisy. Wonderful, I've got an old lady disease. He said he'd put me on an antibiotic and prescribe something for the pain. Then he left, and we were preparing to be discharged. We had been in the ER for about three hours; it was the quickest visit ever.

But then he came back.

The last lab, he said, had been positive for an indicator sometimes associated with pulmonary embolisms. I may have a blood clot in my lungs. So, instead of letting me go, he has ordered a CT scan. The nurse - the supervising RN, not the intern - came back and told me that for the CT scan they needed to have my IV in the crease of my elbow so, he's very sorry, but they're going to have to stick me again. That being done, the radiologist came in and unhooked me from all the wires and gadgetry. Then he took me for a ride.

Riding through a hospital while laying on a bed and staring at the ceiling is pretty disconcerting. The radiologist was moving quickly - at least it felt like it to me - and hubs couldn't keep up, so I didn't even have him to look at. We turned a dozen corners and went through several doorways before coming to the CT room. The radiologist helped me from the hospital bed to the CT bed and told me how the test would go. He said that when the x-ray dye went into my veins I'd feel warm inside, there would be a metallic taste in my mouth, and I'd feel like I was peeing my pants. If he hadn't said anything I would have been convinced there would be a puddle when I got up - that's how real the sensation was.

When the CT was over, we went back to the room to wait again. This time the doctor came back with good news. My lungs were clear - no blood clot. I would be discharged with a diagnosis of acute bronchitis with pleurisy. The nurse should be in soon. Sure enough, the nurse came back and started taking me off the monitor. I asked if I could change out of the hospital gown but then remembered I still had the IV; they were giving me fluid again because my pressure was still not in their happy place. He told me that I knew myself, and that if I wanted the IV out, all I had to do was tell him I wanted it out, and he'd take it out. I had him take it out.

It was about 4:00 when I was finally discharged. We had been in the ER a total of just under five hours. I had been hooked up to more medical machinery than ever before in my life, and I'll be surprised if the bill comes back less than five grand.

I'm supremely grateful for insurance.

It's been HOW LONG?

Yes, it's been several months since I last logged on. It's not like I don't spend enough time online, but I've never been a very good journal keeper. I'd like to do better.

School is starting up again in little more than two weeks. Where did the summer go? One of the big drags of being a first year teacher is the mountain of prep work that has to be done before the students come back. At least it really only has to be done once, though. Next summer ought to be much better (yes, I'm already looking forward to *next* summer - what of it?).

The students don't come back until August 18th, but I have to report back to work on the 11th. That is a week from Monday! I'm panicking a bit over here. Will I be ready? (No) Will I be OK even though I'm not ready? (Probably) I'm having anxiety dreams and even thinking about it too long - like long enough to write this - gets my heart thumping.

Six-year-old girls and body image issues

Coio has always been a very petite child. She was born little (5lbs 11oz), and due to some sensory defensiveness issues, she has never gained weight very well. At her birthday checkup this year she weighed in at just over 30 lbs.

We have gotten comments on how skinny/thin/tiny/etc. she is since she was about 18 months, and I've always tried to be positive. Yes she's petite, but that doesn't mean she's not a healthy child.

Well, all of the talk about how small she is, how little she weighs, etc. and the fact that she is a kindergartner in a K-1 classroom, has born some fruit: today, after asking me if there are any "skinny" girls in my class (I teach grades 3-4), she told me that she is skinny, and that I'm sort of fat.

Augh.

I responded calmly, saying that no I'm not fat. My body is just the right size for me, but inside I was freaking out. She's ONLY SIX! She's got years ahead of her to obsess about size and weight. Can't she be a little girl for a bit longer, please?

Running

It's been AGES since I laced on my Asics and hit the roads, and I'm WILDLY out of shape. It was a good run, though. I went around the neighborhood and up and down some pretty good hills. I was out for a little over a half hour. My pace was pretty slow - over 13min/mi, but, like I said, it's been a long time since I got out there. I'm sure if I can get back into it I'll be able to work back up to a quicker pace.

WFMW - The metoo Seat

This week's Works For Me Wednesday is a tribute to the Phil and Ted's metoo. I looked around for a good, simple, chair that I could use for C-Rex. We have a very small apartment, and floor space, especially in the kitchen is at a premium. There was just no way I could fit a high chair in there. Unfortunately, most everything I found was huge, bulky and impractical.

Until I discovered the metoo. It is lightweight (weighs only two pounds!) and collapses to just one inch thick. It's nylon, so it wipes clean with just a washcloth, although one time in the summer I took the garden hose to it after an outdoor cookout. No need to wrangle off the washable cover or any such nonsense. I've found that it attaches to most tables, although I have had problems with foldable picnic tables. Phil and Ted's is a great company with an impeccable reputation, so you can buy with impunity.

Check it out, but don't blame me if you're tempted to chuck your bulky highchair.

WFMW - Be A DIVA!

My humble submission for this week's Works for Me Wednesday, hosted over at Rocks in My Dryer is the Diva Cup, hands down the most life-altering product I've ever used. In high school - as I dashed from class to the crowded girls' bathroom during my five minute pass period in a vain attempt to deal with my leaking tampon without being tardy for 3rd period English - I used to dream about a product I could put in place at the beginning of the day and not worry about until bedtime. Back then I thought my dream was hopeless, but then I discovered the Diva. The Diva Cup is a soft silicone cup that is worn inside the body like a tampon, but instead of absorbing blood, it simply catches and holds it until you are ready to deal with it. The only catch is that you have to be comfortable dealing with your own body fluids. You will get blood on your fingers, but - as I tell my six-year-old when she begins to freak out over dirty hands - they will wash. It is a small price to pay for TRUE freedom during your period.

I wish I had had this product as a teen, and I fully intend to induct my daughter into the Diva club when she comes of age. It Works For Me!

Stomach Flu Bites - WARNING: This Post is NOT for the Faint of Heart!

My entire family came down with a nasty bug this week. It started on Monday night when C-Rex vomited all over me at 4:30 AM. Things went downhill from there. He developed diarrhea, but then - bizarrely - he seemed to be better on Wednesday, and we went to school without incident. After his nap that afternoon, though, he started vomiting again landing a spectacular shot right down the front of my shirt. Picture me attempting to calm a crying baby while trying NOT to toss my own cookies due to the fact that I've got a lake of vomit formed inside my bra.

It was nasty.

That night was Coio's birthday. We had cake, and she got the Barbie Mariposa (she's got wings, so she gets a green light in our no-Barbie home). She was thrilled. That night Tilo slept in the living room so his sleep wouldn't be interrupted by a sick and fussy baby (gosh, how would it be?). Coio took advantage of his absence by climbing into bed with me at some point in the middle of the night. Then at 3:30, SHE vomited all over me and the bed and everything.

Amazingly, C-Rex slept through the whole episode - the crying, "I vomited! My pants are wet! The cleaning up of the mess. The vomiting AGAIN - repeated three times. It took up much of the wee morning hours. In the meantime, Tilo told me HE was sick, and my frantic dash to the bathroom told me that I had not dodged this bullet either. We got up at 6:30.

We were all in a bad way. Coio impressed me by jumping up off the couch and darting to the bathroom twice to vomit in the toilet - making it both times. She never had diarrhea and recovered much more quickly than anyone else in the house.

Tilo and I stumbled through the day as best we could. C-Rex, who by then hadn't vomited in almost 24 hours, continued (and continues to this moment) to have unpleasantly pungent and watery diapers, but he has been remarkably cheery throughout the whole ordeal.

Everyone else is back to normal. Five by five.

Hair Help!

This week's Works For Me Wednesday works in reverse. That means I get to post a question for y'all to answer, and, boy, I've got a doozy.

My life is full of hair drama. Coio - who turns six TODAY (wow!) has long, fine hair. It can be quite pretty, but most of the time it's a tangly, snarly mess. We do braided ponytails most days because I can't handle the trauma of combing out hair that has been through the day of an energetic little girl.

But yesterday, out of the blue, she announced that she wants to cut her hair. I'm astounded, as every time I've even mentioned it she has responded with adamant protestations that she *loves* her hair and wants to keep it LONG.

I'm happy to turn over the task of hair care, but I want to make sure I don't leave her with a task that is too much. So my question to you is this: how much hair can a six-year-old manage, and what can I do to help her take responsibility for her own head?

Thanks!

And Here Comes the Diarrhea

Oh. Joy.

Rude Awakening

There's nothing like being jolted awake at 4:30 AM by projectile vomit.

C-Rex had a rough night. He couldn't get to sleep and was twitchy all night. Finally he was still and quiet, and I thought we'd be good till morning.

We almost made it.

I awoke to the sound of impending vomit. I heard it coming, and there was nothing I could do but sit up and try not to get too much of it on me. He coughed and puked and then laid (lay?) back down and went back to sleep without much fuss. We tried to clean up around him as best we could - don't worry, he wasn't in it - thinking it was just something from dinner that had bothered his tummy.

No dice. Just a few short minutes later I heard it again, and this time it got everywhere. So I got up and got him cleaned up - even putting him in the bath to wash his hair.

Since then we've been through the cycle of nurse/vomit a dozen times. I'm not looking forward to the rest of this day.

Field Trip EXTRAVAGANZA!

We have a field trip planned for every day this week. Today we went to the bank. We took the kids over in two groups, and each group had about thirty minutes inside the bank. The bank manager talked to them about setting up an account, interest rates, and (their favorite part) how the security cameras work. Then they were taken behind the teller desk into the area where the drive-up tellers sit. They thought the vacuum system for transporting the canisters was cool, but they all gasped, "COOL!" when the teller opened the pneumatic drawer for the nearest lane. They're so nine-years-old.

Finally the bank manager took us into THE VAULT. My mind fills with images of stacks of money and gold bars behind a huge door (probably round) with a massive steering wheel-like locking mechanism. I'm sorely disappointed when we're taken behind a Plexiglas door into a tiny room filled with safe deposit boxes. THIS is the VAULT? We're told that the bank, while it has about 25 million in deposits only maintains a paltry $90,000 on hand at any given day, and it's secured in cashier drawers. That's it.

The kids loved it, though, and they all got suckers when we left. The most exciting part of the adventure, though, was pushing a student in his wheelchair over the icy sidewalks to and from the bank. Maybe next time we ought to bring our own ice pick.