Favorite posts about DoodleBug and ToddlerBug from my previous blog.
It’s A Boy! March 2008
No, I’m not pregnant, and no I don’t have any inside information on anyone else who may be pregnant at this time. I’m talking about ToddlerBug. We knew for sure that he’s a boy on July 31, 2006 at the third ultrasound appointment. The first appointment was too early to tell, the second appointment he was being shy, but at the third appointment – oh boy – we knew. Captain Winkie was proudly displayed for all to see. (All being me, Munky and the radiology tech.) But it was there (and still is – phew!) Since his birth, we’ve had many fine discussions with DoodleBug about the differences between boys and girls, and oh how lucky ToddlerBug will be when he’s potty-trained because he’ll be able to stand up to pee. We’ve also had many late-night discussions, Munky and I, about how different ToddlerBug is from DoodleBug at his age. Said discussions usually take place as I’m falling (literally) into bed with a loud sigh after the final bed-check of the night. You see, ToddlerBug is, well, he’s so…so…active! He’s into everything and fears nothing. About to leap off the bed? No problem! Gate across the stairs? Just pull it down and climb up. Hey, is that door open? I must go in! And out! And in! And out! Hey, what’s that cool shiny thing on the side? A hinge? I can get my fingers in there and pull it closed! Yippee!
I’m trying very hard to remember just how active DoodleBug was at this age. Perhaps I’ll pull out the DoodleBug DVDs for movie night to take a peek, because the brain cells where that info is stored are in hibernation, if not completely erased. I know for sure that she walked later than ToddlerBug did, and she was definitely more content to sit still and read books with me. Or maybe she was just as berserk as he is but I didn’t get to see it because it happened while she was at daycare. In any event, in case I needed any more proof that my son is a boy, the evidence presented itself this morning. As he was wiping his fist across his germ-encrusted runny nose (and then promptly wiping it on me), he yelled “Buh-bye boogers!” His first un-prompted two word sentence – “Buh-bye, boogers!” That’s my boy.
ER, April 2007
10:59 PM As I write this, Munky and DoodleBug are on the way to the local ER. I’m home with ToddlerBug, trying to keep from pacing while I wait for Munky to call. Twenty minutes ago, DoodleBug fell out of bed and landed face first on the wastebasket. She hit hard enough to break the basket in half. There’s a gash across the bridge of DoodleBug’s nose, and it’s swollen. Not much blood, so she won’t need stitches, and I don’t think the nose is broken, but it looks nasty, so better safe than sorry.
11:18 PM They’re at the ER now. Through the miracle of cell phones, I’m on the phone with the ER registration personnel answering insurance questions. Thankfully, she has her Daddy with her, her Elmo boo-boo ice pack, and her faithful Froggy to comfort her through the exam and any tests. Be brave, sweet girl. Mommy’s there in spirit, wishing she could be there in person. I couldn’t hear her crying in the background while I was on the phone with the registrar, so I’m taking that as a good sign that the pain and initial shock has worn off. She’s an inquisitive girl, and the last time we were in the ER (after the car accident in August 2006), she calmly took everything in, asked alot of questions, and only cried when they did the automatic blood pressure cuff. (I’d cry, too – those suckers hurt!)
11:33 PM They’re in the exam room now. (Thank goodness for cell phones!) The ER doc thinks it’s just a nasty cut, but has ordered an X-ray anyway. (Darn it – they just did the letter X at school last week! However, I don’t recommend this as a homework assignment…) She’s laying on the bed, being a brave girl. “I’m being brave, Mommy. My nose really hurts, but I’m being brave.” I want to cry listening to her little voice trying to reassure me. I explain that they’re going to take a picture of her head, that the picture won’t hurt, but the machine will look a little funny. I tell her that Daddy will be with her, and so will Froggy. (Yia-yia, if you only knew the places that Froggy would go with DoodleBug when you first gave it to her 4.5 years ago…)
11:42 PM Another call – was she getting up from the floor when I ran into the room? Was she disoriented? Yes, she was getting up; yes, she was disoriented – from being woken abruptly by a falling out of bed face first onto a trash can! But no more disoriented than when I usually wake her up to use the bathroom.
11:57 PM And while I wait for the phone to ring again, I clean. I take the offending trash can out of her room and straighten up her bed. And quickly realize why she fell out. The child has a full-size bed and two-thirds of it is taken up by stuffed animals and books. I put the books back into the bookshelf and take all but the “crucial” stuffed animals off the bed. Dora stays, as does the BoSox flower, and the lion that was really a gift for ToddlerBug, but has been adopted by DoodleBug. Froggy will retain the place of honor in her arms when they arrive back home. I listen to the rain slashing against the windows. I check on ToddlerBug, blissfully unaware that anything is amiss. He’s snoring away, his sore gums soothed by a dose of Tylenol before bed. I pointedly ignore the chocolate chip cookies we baked earlier today, knowing that I’ll inhale all of them if I take even one bite. Perhaps I’ll empty the dishwasher instead.
12:18-12:46 AM The door opens. They’re home. No X-ray, because she’s too little and they don’t want to expose her to radiation. Even if the nose is broken, there’s nothing they can do. It’ll heal on its own, and if there are problems in the future, then we go to an ear, nose and throat specialist. For now, keep Bacitracin on it three times a day, and give her Tylenol or Motrin for the pain. If it’s broken, she’ll have two black eyes in the morning. Most likely, it’s just a bad abrasion. Once it’s healed, keep sunscreen on it and wear a hat outside. She was a brave girl in the ER, only she had a fit when they tried to put the bandage on her nose. (They finally succeeded after much negotiation.) Oh, and she wouldn’t wear the hospital bracelet, so now Froggy has a collar. A little bit of Motrin, a sip of milk, one book, one lullaby and a snuggle later, she’s back asleep in the middle of her bed.
And now I must fall into bed myself, the excitement over, the adrenalin rush gone, the noise of the alarm clock a mere 6 hours away. Thank you, God, for watching over us tonight. Amen…
Edited to add: The nose isn’t broken. Hooray! She’s in good spirits, just tired. Back to school tomorrow (it’s a holiday here in Massachusetts today) – I know she’ll be in her glory relating the story to all of her friends and teachers. I told her we’d go to Target so she could pick out a new trash can….she said she’d like a fuzzy one.
