Where to begin?

I’m only posting words for now. I intend to post pictures in the near future, but my life seems to be a little busier than it used to be.

Chilkoot is a giant. He’s 13+ pounds now, at about 6.5 weeks. KrisDi’s home height measurement showed 23.5 inches or so. KrisDi gauges him in the 90+th percentile in both height and weight. He’s freakishly strong. He’s rolled over five times, and he can support his relatively substantial weight on his legs. He either has gotten better about diapers, or we’ve learned how to deal with his diaper badness.

Chilkat has regressed in her potty behavior. There’s so many things going on for her that it’s hard to figure out why. At home, she’s pretty good, because KrisDi and I pay a lot of attention to her and she’s pretty comfortable. She’s had a lot of issues at school. We’re trying to work through it with bribes. Right now, we’re bribing primarily with fruit snacks. One of the things we’re worried it could be is an infection, which would result in discomfort urinating and consequently reluctance to urinate until it is unavoidable (get it? Void!). I took her to the doctor on Friday because she complained that it was hurting when she peed (knowing full well that it could be nothing but an attention-grab). I was shocked when Chilkat voluntarily provided a urine sample. The doctor hadn’t even considered a voluntary urine sample to be a possibility, and she had considered a catheter to be a bad option, and she was about to send us home with instructions to give Chilkat antibiotics if she kept complaining. She’s been having fevers off and on since last night, but hasn’t complained about pain. It could be that she has some other random illness, or it could be her incoming molar, or whatever. There is no certainty in parenting. Right now, I intend to wait for lab results on Tuesday before giving her antibiotics.

My dear brother Northwood visited us briefly the other day. He and his friend Chris from work have embarked upon a ~4400 mile motorcycle trip. They arrived at our house approximately 24 hours later than planned after mechanical problems, and had to stay through Monday to wait for a Triumph dealer to open to buy parts and then until Tuesday afternoon to actually implement repairs and get going again. It was good to see him, and I’m glad he got to meet his new nephew, but I don’t know why he had to leave me with a hangover.

Chilkat came into our room at around 3:00 AM the other day. This is abnormal; if she wakes at night, it’s usually because she needs to pee or because she just peed, and she normally just starts yelling or crying, rather than heading into our room. But, I picked her up and asked her if she needed to go potty, and she said yes. She was burning hot, and when I got to the bathroom and stood her on the floor, she started retching. Keep in mind, this was three in the morning and I’d been awake for about 45 seconds, so my reaction may or may not make sense: I cupped my hand and put it in front of her. She vomited into it, and I looked at it puzzled for a moment, and then washed it off and put her on the potty, where she peed and I cleaned her up. A few hours later, I was driving to work (not having gotten back to sleep after the exciting event described), and I thought to myself, “Well, at least I’ve only been puked on today. Nobody’s shit on me yet.” And I felt a little better. And then I recognized that this is a depressing thing to cheer you up, and I felt a little more depressed.

Today, while Mom was here, she stupidly said the words, “ice cream.” Chilkat heard it and immediately desperately needed to go to the store with Grandma to buy ice cream. I said, “Grandma doesn’t have a car seat in her car.”
“We could take the truck?” she suggests.
“We don’t have a car seat in the truck right now, sweetie.”
“We have three cars!” she says, clearly indicating that I’m a frickin’ idiot for not thinking of this myself.
We went in KrisDi’s car. After she goes to bed tonight, I’m totally having some Graeter’s Salted Caramel Ice Cream.

Friday, on the way home from work, I was singing along with the music. Chilkat got upset with me, like she does from time to time, and told me to stop singing. “I don’t like it, Daddy. And Chilkoot won’t like it, and when he gets bigger, he’ll yell at you.”

Chilkat still really likes putting a monster head on me and making me chase her around and roar at her so she can pretend to be scared. Yesterday, we were at the False Alarm Family’s house, and I suggested to Chilkat that she should scare M. M happily (and without prompting) played along nicely, by screaming and running away when Chilkat weakly roared.

In the same visit to the False Alarm Family, KrisDi mentioned how similar Chilkoot looks to Chilkat when she was the same age. They said, “No, they don’t really look the same.” So KrisDi pulled up a picture of Chilkat when she was about 6 weeks old and asked them which kid it was. “Uhhh…Chilkoot?”

Posted by snaotheus

1 comment

[…] to leave, I thought to myself, ‘When was the last time I had vomit on my hand? Oh yeah, that time Chilkat barfed right into my palm. This will be fine. It’ll wash off.’ And then I felt better. After I got into the […]

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