Chit Chat

One of our favorite regular activities with Christopher is teaching him how to talk. He's gotten good at repeating our words if we begin with, "Say..." But because his enunciation still isn't perfected, we enjoy listening to him attempt to say whatever we ask him to try. When he wants the movie "Chitty Chitty Bang Bang," he calls for, "Bain! Bain!" Of course, Aaron tries to get him to say, "Chitty Chitty," exploiting Topher's oblivious to naughty words. When he wants to hear his Thomas the Tank Engine songs, he begs, "Trai! Trai!" He's getting better at the "pl" sound in, "Please!" Christopher also calls, "Poo!" or "Far!" if he hears someone pass gas. He overheard a tv character chant, "Fusspot, fusspot!" And when Christopher tried to imitate him, what came out sounded more like, "fuh..." than "fuss." The other word he's had to practice recently has been, "Sorry," which usually comes out as, "Sorh." But more often than not, whenever I ask him to repeat something to practice his words, it sounds close enough to distinguish. And his sweet little voice makes the word a wonderful new discovery for both us.

Trees, Turtles, & Tumbles

Christopher has been a busy boy discarding his usual schedule. I have the fear that the wonderful days of two long naps are slipping away. On Wednesday, we made plans to meet Sariah with Ben, Janelle with Elliott, Heather with Gwynne, and Lisa with Lincoln and Sawyer at the local farmer's market. Christopher has gotten much better at holding hands, but when he gets anxious to run, he does. And he thinks it's a riotous game to flee from grown ups. And at one point, as I was playfully chasing after him, he fell on his knees when he hit the grassy edge of the woods. We all laughed. So for the next half hour, any freedom Topher found he ran towards the same grassy spot and fell immediately, recreating his former tumble and reveling in the moment. Such a clown!

We bought some apples and raspberries and rolls, intending to eat them for lunch at the Vienna Botanical Gardens. Christopher, however, seemed intent on eating every raspberry at the farmer's market and he started getting a little red spotted rash around his eyes soon afterwards. It didn't seem to bother him much, so I simply took note of it. And while at the Gardens, Christopher seemed more intent on feeding the turtles and geese with his food than himself. The weather proved ideal for a long stroll through the gardens, sunny but mild, especially for June. And the flowers were dancing all over the green hillsides. Christopher begged to be let free from his stroller, and as soon as his feet his the ground, he was off, stumbling down the long slope towards the catfish-filled pond. I hurried after him and kept one hand on his shoulder as he half-signed and half-said "water," over and over again. I was glad to see that he seemed to understand that he couldn't jump into the water, but the temptation was obvious. Topher seemed to enjoy just as much delight in the sunshine as he had to endure the despair of my constant shadow. The silly kid simply couldn't run away far enough fast enough, for I was always right behind him, tugging on his pants or wrestling him to the grass when he wanted to tromp in the lush flowerbeds or explore the stone drain tunnels.

We stopped again at a gazebo at the end of a platform that reached into the pond and hovered high over the water. There Christopher discovered geese and turtles and fish all fighting for food together. He spent an hour hurrying back and forth between me and the railing, snatching scraps of bread from me for the eager animals below. The other moms calmly sat under the gazebo, feeding their children content to stay near them. Mine, however, kept me jolting all over the place. We left the gazebo for a winding walk up a high grassy hill. I let Topher escape the stroller to follow after Ben and Lincoln, for whom he was calling enthusiastically. However, the steepness of the hill surprised him, and soon Christopher was tumbling awkwardly down the hill, tripping and falling and occasionally slamming into the ground. I chased after him and tried to keep him from rolling again, but that only frustrated the poor boy so much that our adventure on the hilltop ended rather quickly. We continued our stroll with the others into a wooded area where Christopher wanted to hide among the trees and bushes. When we stopped for a minute, he hurried off to the edge of the woods where we found a beautiful yellow and brown tortoise. Ben was quick to take the turtle from us, but because Christopher seemed a little nervous about the walking rock, I didn't mind Ben enjoy the tortoise in his place. Ben tried to share the tortoise with Topher, but my little guy kept turning away from it. So soon after, I strapped him back into his stroller and took him (and his many grass-stains) home for the day.

Father's Day

Aaron has always insisted that he doesn't enjoy surprises, but I think he liked them this Father's Day. Three days before, I planted a "clue" pertaining to his upcoming Father's Day gift in his lunch. It was a card listing his competition: Chris Patton, Steve Lundsford, Kent Kemeny, Kelly Busby, Neil Sood, John Gardner, Jason Bassett, and Bryson Giles. After a series of questions, Aaron eventually guessed that they would be going go-kart racing! Mario Kart action for the big boys! And all the wives and kids stood in the wings to cheer them on.

So on Saturday, Neil and Lori Sood arrived with their pretty little daughter Annalisa. Neil was under the impression that they had come for a barbeque to celebrate Lori's and my birthdays. So he was doubly surprised when he learned about the go-kart reservations we'd made at a local track. So with very little time to eat our Rachel-Ray-inspired hamburgers, we tossed the kids in the cars and headed to Sterling, Virginia. Everyone had gathered at the indoor racetrack, little munchkins running around under their daddies' legs as the men zipped themselves into hot, thick, racing uniforms. After a ten-minute safety video, our husbands were off to the races!

Christopher did laps just like Aaron did--only while Aaron was whipping in twisted circles around the track driving a super-small convertible, Topher was running back and forth among the bleachers in his favorite "blue shoes." There was no slowing either one of them down. After a practice race of 20 laps, the men paused to compare speeds and scores and to rethink their strategies about how to take turns. And after the real race of 40 laps, they were all dripped with sweat from their hot suits and insulated helmets, but they were also pumped full of testosterone. Christopher had tried to steal into one of the go-karts, open one of the vending machines, and make one of the ashtrays into a sandbox. But besides all that, he was an especially fun little boy. He stood on the chair next to me and clapped for his daddy even though he couldn't see which of the men in black whizzing by was his daddy after all. In the end, the first place trophy went to Christ Patton, but that didn't matter much. Aaron had fun!

On Father's Day itself, Christopher presented Aaron with a card and a new XBox 360 game. It's a football game that Daddy can teach to his little boy who always begs him to "play." We invited Heather and Kent to join us for a night of Catan, a chance to use our new expansion. Christopher sat in front of a movie, eating tomatoes and pretzels and cheese while their little Gwynne fussed with fatigue. We were all a little distracted, but it still nice to visit together as couples. It finally grew so late and we had made so little progress that we had to end the game before it was really done. Still, it was a happy Father's Day and a super fun family weekend. And I hope Aaron felt how much we love him!

The Croup

After five days in the hospital, Christopher came home knowing full well that the croup is "crap!" (When Topher says it, he rolls his R's and it makes us laugh!) But there wasn't much to laugh about when late Thursday night we realized that Topher's sudden heavy wheezing was a serious indication that he simply couldn't breathe. Aaron had taken Christopher hometeaching because he hadn't seen him in several days and he wanted to spend some time with him. Although they came home long past Topher's bedtime, he still seemed to be in good spirits -- but he was breathing hard. And when we tried to give him a bedtime snack, he choked so severely that it induced vomit. His throat was swelling shut.

I thought it was an allergic reaction because the breathing problems struck suddenly during dinner, accompanied by a little rash on his arm. So at Urgent Care, the nurses started treating him for an allergic reaction with shots and IV's and an oxygen mask. Oh, the poor kid was miserable! He curled up in our arms, bawling in his raspy way, coughing like a barking seal, and pleading with what little voice he had, "Help!" The mask terrified him, so we had to administer the medicine by a tube in front of his nose instead. And after a CAT scan and an X-ray, our sweet little boy managed to fall asleep from sheer exhaustion while I curled up with him on the gurney. He was so terrified and so tired and so confused, and we felt so sorry for him. It was around 4am when the doctor determined Topher needed to go to the Fairfax County Hospital to be treated for a severe case of croup. Larry and Larry, the two EMT's, drove Christopher and me to the hospital via ambulance. That was Christopher's second ride in an ambulance in two months. What a special boy!

We got settled into a cramped shared room at the hospital on Friday morning, and after more poking and prodding for vital signs, Christopher was finally allowed to sleep. Aaron also tried napping, but that was futile because of the sobbing little boy in the bed next to us. So he eventually went home to get some real sleep. He had been up all night, whereas I had napped a little while lying next to Topher. I took the day shift with our little guy, feeding him small bits of food, taking him to the kid's activity room, and rocking him for hours when he woke coughing and vomiting again. His harsh breathing had subsided by Friday night, thanks to the steroids the nurses had administered, so they sent us home around 9pm. I was so grateful to see Christopher settled into his own bed for a good night's sleep! And I was also grateful for a shower!

But Saturday afternoon, Topher woke from his nap with fear on his face because he couldn't breathe again. He could barely gasp enough to cough the harsh, hacking sound we had learned to hate in the hospital. So we rushed to the emergency room and immediately, the nurse had him on a bed and was administering a mask full of medicine. He squirmed and cried and fought the mask as he had the day before, but soon he could breathe again. What little appetite he's had on Friday had disappeared by Saturday. We could hardly coax him into drinking apple juice and nibble on a graham cracker. By the time the hospital opened a private room for Christopher in the pediatric wing, I was desperate enough to have him eat that I bribed him with a bottle of chocolate milk. It was the only thing of substance he had all day.

Despite his lethargy from not breathing, not eating, and not sleeping, Christopher proved so patient during his next two days trapped in the hospital. Sadly, he became accustomed to the nurses taking his blood pressure, listening to his lungs, and applying wires to his chest. He liked playing with the monitor attached to his big toe, and we kept him entertained with all of his favorite movies: "Mary Poppins," "Annie," and "Joseph." By Monday morning, Christopher didn't even want to venture to the kid's activity room. He was only mildly interested in playing basketball at the outdoor court with Aaron. He trembled when I tried to prop him up to stand. And he curled up to sleep on my chest or under my arm without any attempt to escape and explore on his own. Mr. Mischief was so not himself. By Monday morning, Christopher had also stopped drinking. Even chocolate milk couldn't tempt him anymore. He had coughed so much and thrown up so much that he wasn't interested in taking anything into his belly anymore. And I became accustomed to calling for the nurse to bring a change of pajamas and sheets. Sunday night, he vomited all over me while I cuddled with him under the cool mist tent in the crib. I don't know what surprised the nurse more when she walked in: seeing me in the crib or seeing the puke all over the place. Aaron helped me clean Christopher up and calm him down again.

I was glad that by Monday, the doctors had decided to be more liberal with the medicine mask that help Christopher so much when he really started struggling. By the time Topher was comfortable with holding the mask to his own face, the respiratory technicians had administered the medicine several times in a just a few hours. But it seems to make a world of difference. The nurse brought in another steroid mashed up in some applesauce around lunchtime, and I feared that Christopher would thoroughly object to it as he had all other food. But when I explained to him that it was "help," he opened his mouth and let me feed him the two scoops of drugged applesauce. That was it. That was all he would take in. But within a couple of hours, I started to see our curious kid return. It was like magic.

Christopher started showing some interest in the way Jello could be mashed through his fingers. Then he wanted to play with his DVD player. Then he started pretending he could climb out of his crib. And by the time Aaron returned from a short sleep at home, Christopher was ready to conquer the world! The doctor didn't let us go home until nearly 10pm, and by then Topher was tired and irrational again. But after taking a tour of the cafeteria and watching us pack up our things, Christopher started getting terribly excited to go home. He kept begging for "home" using his sign language. So we were very relieved when the doctor finally agreed that we could go. As grateful that I was for the medical support when Topher couldn't breathe and when he would throw up from coughing so severely, I was eager to go home where we could all sleep without being interrupted by well-meaning stethescopes.

From what I understand, croup is a common childhood virus. It typically causes a nasty cough, but in some instances, it causes "stridor," the strained breathing that I've come to recognize so readily. It only affects young children under the age of 5, which means Christopher has three more vulnerable years ahead of him. How I pray we never have to deal with the croup again!