Day 11

Ari is a peeing machine.  He's hooked up to IV fluids 24-7 and drinks about 16-32 oz of milk daily.  At home, I was used to changing 3-4 diapers per day (I probably should have changed him more often, but that's another story).  Now, we change a diaper almost every hour.  And if we don't, we get wet.  (Yesterday, I had to change my pants 3 times.)  And probably because he's not feeling well, Ari has a fit during every diaper change.  So today we wised up and asked for some pull-ups - easier on and easier off.

And like every request we make, within 10 minutes we were granted a box of size 5 pull-ups.  I thought they were pretty awesome.  Matt did not.  Check 'em out:

Front:

 Back:

Real men wear pink, right?  Wrong.  Matt refused to let the little guy wear the diaper.  (He also said no when the nurse suggested we put a sanitary pad inside the diaper.)  And he even made a joke when our doctor assured us the disease would not cause infertility that "if he wore the diapers provided, it would."  So we sent out Matt's dad in search of more manly pull-ups and...

Ta-da!  Mechanic?  Race car driver?  Construction worker?  Doesn't matter because as this pic shows...

...Ari is all boy!

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Daily update:

Another tough day.  Ari woke with fever (first fever he has ever had...like since he was born!) and cold symptoms so he is being treated as having both a bacterial infection and virus.  The bacterial infection is very common and expected but is cause for concern as the little guy has no way to fight infection himself since the chemo has wiped out all white blood cells.  The viral infection makes Ari a risk to the other patients on the floor so he is not allowed to leave the room for the time being.  In addition, both make him even more susceptible to outside germs and bacteria so his room is closed to the public.  We're hoping he recovers very quickly so we can have guests again soon.

And he's still not feeling well.  His tummy pain and nausea has definitely subsided (all food was kept down today - hurray!) but he's extremely tired and achy and if he could verbalize it would probably say, "Mom, wtf is going on?  I feel like sh*t."  He spent the majority of the day watching Elmo videos and sleeping.  We also think he has a mouth sore or two (common side effect) as he points to his mouth and makes a sad sound so we've been giving him morphine (gasp...a very very small dose) for pain and it helps (physically and emotionally).

Ari, say "morphine"...

Shabbat Shalom.

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Day 10

Father's Day is taken very seriously around here.  This morning, Ari made a card for Dad, we picked out a balloon to give him Sunday, and we even had a brochure of gifts delivered and were asked to select 3 to give Dad on Sunday.  I think Dad may read this post so I will wait until Sunday to share the gifts Ari chose for him. 

But on the topic of Dad, I want to share how incredible Matt has been since the moment we stepped through the hospital doors.  Here are just some of the daily tasks he has taken upon himself.  He changes almost every diaper, he makes the bed every evening, he cleans the room, and he keeps the nurses well fed and well sugared.  He fits his 6 foot 2 inch frame on a 5 foot 10 inch bed every other evening and he never complains. 

He is in the hospital every day and almost every night.  He has put everything else aside.  And he provides care for Ari like I never could have imagined.  He holds Ari in the operating room when they give him anesthesia, he invents games and distractions to keep Ari entertained, and he downloads new toddler-friendly apps daily for the Ipad.  He asks the doctors every possible question to ensure we have all the information we need, he researches the disease, and he advocates for his son.  He is strong and fierce and incredibly loving.  And he remains my best friend and support.  He is truly remarkable. 

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Daily update:

It has not been a very good day.  The morning lumbar puncture went smoothly but Ari woke up cranky and tired and spent most of the day feeling sick.  He is having trouble keeping food down but is still very hungry (okay, you want gross details?  After his 2nd vomit of the day, he tried to eat the just ralphed spaghetti and meatballs.  In his defense, it did look exactly the same coming up as it did going down), his tummy hurts, and he just doesn't feel well.  He was given a large dose of medication in his spinal fluid this morning which may be contributing to his general malaise.  It is also very possible that these are all side effects of the chemo medications and that he will remain feeling like this for much of the next 20 or so days. 

The good news is - Ari loves narcotics.  He had some happy juice this morning pre-op and he became a wobbly silly man.  I took a video (I just couldn't help myself, but I won't post it here...that would be even too much for me) of his giggling and rolling and loss of balance.  It was the only belly laugh Matt and I had today and I'm excited to watch it over and over tonight.  And, as the docs are trying to make Ari as comfy as possible, they gave him a small dose of oxycodon this evening.  As I suspected, he thoroughly enjoyed it and it made all the pain go away.

His numbers are still looking good, the cancer cells are depleting, the mass in his chest definitely shrinking and everything else is on track, but his ANC count (google it, I don't know what it stands for) is now at 0 which makes him very susceptible to infection for a week until his body begins to create new good cells. We are asking all kids, anyone who works with kids, or anyone who has even the slightest sniffle (or lives with anyone with a sniffle) to not visit this week.  And all visits should be quite brief so Ari can rest.  (Or just ask Scott our mealtrain deliverer from tonight...you probably won't want to stay long anyway.  Sorry Scott.)

And thanks for all of the emails, texts, and phone calls.  I read everything but have gotten very behind on responding.  I promise I will get back to you eventually. 

It's my night off so I'm outta here...

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June 13, Day 9, Treatment day 13

I dread the nights.

Days are packed with visitors, activities, meals, and procedures which keep us together and busy.  But the nights are long and lonely.  Matt and I switch off both because there is only one parent allowed to sleep in the room, and also because we know deep down it is good for us to get a good night's sleep, take a shower, and leave the hospital.  But I find going home harder than staying put in our cozy room.

Home doesn't feel like home anymore.  There are toys and a monitor and a beautiful nursery.  But there's no Ari.  There are no sounds of laughter or little feet going pitter patter, no humidifier running all night, no electronic toys making silly noises, and no gagging sounds when we drop a used diaper in the genie.  The floors are cheerio free, the coffee table uncluttered, and the stroller out of sight.  Home feels sterile and empty and lifeless. 

And the nights in room 616B are filled with signs of life.  The nurses come in hourly to check vitals, the machines beep when the medications have been fully administered, and the parents quietly commiserate with one another in the hallway.  But most importantly and satisfyingly, Ari sleeps.  He tosses, he faintly moans when the nurse changes his diaper, and occasionally he lets out a cough or a call for "Mama."  But he is here and only a few feet away from me he is breathing and his health improving.  He is alive.  In this room, I feel charged with purpose. 

Yet I cannot sleep.  I am awakened by the beeping and the door creaking, by my hips aching, and by my mind wandering.  I listen to the ticking of the wall clock and wait patiently for daybreak.  And I look forward to another day of battle.

But most of all, I envision the not-so-distant future when we can all leave together and go back to what feels like home.
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Daily update:

Health wise, today was uneventful.  Ari's numbers are steady and his belly aches less frequent.  He had a bunch of great visitors today including a short curly haired red head who put on an incredible puppet show in the shower (she's very creative), and a guest appearance from a great friend who has an awesome Halloween costume:

Our roommate was discharged this evening so we are crossing our fingers that we will have some extra space for at least a day or two. 

Tomorrow Ari has a lumbar puncture in the morning and then we may try to venture to the playground if he's feeling well after the procedure.

My chin is up.

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June 12, Day 8, Treatment day 12

Living in the Oncology Ward at Children's Hospital is a little like being on a cruise ship.  There's free room service, ice cream available 24-7, and an all-you-can-eat buffet. (And after a few days, the food all tastes the same and gives me indigestion.)  Plus, there are a variety of reading and computer rooms, play spaces, and resource labs.  We are offered movie nights, pizza parties, bingo, and many other themed events.  But most similar to cruising, there's a calendar of daily activities and entertainment and even a cruise director (but here they are called the Child Life Specialist) to keep us and our little one active and interested.

When I cruise, I love the daily print-out of events and carry it with me throughout the day so I can stay busy.  Matt and I are treating our stay here as if we're on a cruise and attempting to keep Ari engaged in as many fun activities as possible.  Here's the schedule for the month:

And a close-up of today's activities:

This morning, Matt and I painted footballs (Ari was too cool for arts and crafts).  Can you guess whose is whose?

After our nap, we will get our face painted and then check out the live music.  And of course we will grab some snacks later to keep us going til dinner.  I'm psyched for tomorrow at 11am - clowns are coming!

Now I know what you're thinking and you're right, a cruise has its drawbacks.  And here too the halls are noisy and crowded, there's always a wait for the elevators, there are tons of crazy kids everywhere you go, and the bathrooms are tiny.  Oh, and how did I forget?  Just like on a cruise, we're trapped...

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Daily update: (Clarification, we are on treatment day 12 because they count the steroid Ari was prescribed for "asthma" as the first 4 days of treatment, even though today is day 8 in the hospital.  I'll take it.)

Ari's counts are steady and his lumbar puncture report from yesterday good.  He's having some belly aching and we are trying to figure out the cause and then prevent pain.  He may be having some nausea as well as he's become an expert puker.  (Sorry roommate)  We gave him a bath today because he was beginning to smell and he wasn't too happy with this decision.  But, I could tell he felt better afterwards as he put on a peek-a-boo and honk-the-noses show for the nurses before falling fast asleep.  He received a dose of chemo (Vincristine) earlier today and so tomorrow he may be sluggish.  All in all, his attitude is positive and he does not realize he's sick.  His cough is almost gone and his breathing is back to normal.  He hasn't asked to go home once and seems happy walking the halls, driving his car, and playing with all of the new toys.  Fingers crossed this continues!

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June 11, Day 7

Our first 3 nights at Children's Hospital were spent in the ICU.  Ari was having serious trouble breathing and he needed to be monitored very closely.  Now, in no way am I saying I want to go back there for any reason ever again, but I will say the accommodations were pretty sweet.  The room was huge, the bathroom private, and there were two beds for the parents.  We had a large window and a private nurse and lots of TLC.  It was like the Ritz Carlton of hospital stays.

And just as we got used to things, we were moved to the Motel 6...better known as the 6 North Oncology Ward. 

We still receive great care, but we only have one parent sleeping bed chair cot bench and we also have a roommate and a roommate's temper tantrums and a shared bathroom.  But what we thought was worst of all, we have a terrible view.  Our room looks out at a construction site...and not a few blocks away or downstairs but rather, right next to our room. 

I was pretty bummed when I first saw this and realized we wouldn't see sunlight enter our window for 30+ days.  But as it turns out, this view is a toddler's paradise.  Ari can watch the construction workers, the ladders, and the little trucks moving all day long.  The workmen wave to him and show him their equipment and he's sad when they go home at night.  (This also made for one very long weekend.  We tried to explain to the little guy that they were Union but he did not understand.)

Here are two pics of Ari and the construction workers and Ari's awesome new hard hat (thanks Zayde).

Daily update:

Ari had a great day yesterday.  As promised, we were able to take him outside to the garden.  He loved the flowers and walking on the grass (particularly where the "do not walk on the grass" signs were located) and tried very hard to get in the fountain.  (He must know he hasn't had a bath in 7 days.)  Next time we go outside, we'll remember pants.

Today, Ari had a lumbar puncture and he did great.  He ate a falafel and hummus lunch immediately following surgery and is now taking a nap.  Well, to be more accurate, he's doing this.  His counts are all still steadily decreasing and the doctor told us today he is responding better than they even anticipated.  As I said yesterday, we expect things to get worse in the coming days and weeks as the drugs begin to take a toll on his little body. 

Thank you everyone for all of your love and support. 

(p.s. some of you emailed asking if the blog updates could be emailed to you, and yes, all you have to do is use the "follow by email" field on the left side of your screen and go through the steps.)

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From poop to platelets

For the past 18 months, I blogged about poop.  I documented my hilarious, vivacious, brilliant little boy.  I wrote about my perfect life with Ari.  Never in a million years did I think this blog would change from smiles to sadness, from funny to fear, from happy to hopeful.  But it has.

Because my son has cancer.

Just typing out these words overwhelms me with shock, disbelief, and immense sadness.  Yet this is now my reality.  So after some thought, I decided to maintain the blog.  I will blog to record the days, the procedures, the highs and lows.  And I will blog to keep you updated.  I can't promise I won't be inappropriate, vulgar, or sarcastic.  In fact, through the worst week of my life, my spirit has remained strong, my humor is still present, and my ability to cross the line still intact.  I will try to make you uncomfortable by making light of a serious situation.  It is how I cope.

So to answer a few common questions first:

1. How did you know he was sick?

Ari had a rattle in his chest for a few days and was having trouble breathing at night.  We took him to his pediatrician who diagnosed him with asthma.  She put him on a nebulizer/steroid regimen and told us to come back the next day.  24 hours later, his breathing was better and the doctor said she could hear pneumonia in his lungs.  She prescribed antibiotics.  7 days later, he was significantly better but suddenly the cough/wheezing returned and we called the doctor on a Saturday.  She put us back on meds and told us to come in Monday morning.  After seeing him Monday, she sent us to Children's Hospital for a chest x-ray to rule out an un-cured case of pneumonia.

And we haven't left.

2. What is the diagnosis and prognosis?

Ari has T-Cell Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia.  He has a substantial mass of cancer cells in his chest which was causing the breathing problems.  In the childhood cancer if-you-have-to-get-it world, this is the one cancer you want to get.  The brief overview of treatment is: 4 weeks in-patient chemotherapy, followed by 2 years of mostly outpatient chemotherapy - 1 day a week for 2 years.  That's longer than he has been alive.  But here's the good news - there's a 95% chance Ari will be in remission after these first 30 days.  And an 85% chance he will be cured after 2 years.  And if he's cured, his chances of the cancer recurring or developing a new type of cancer is the same as any other person. Leukemia does not metastasize.  And we are at the best place for childhood oncology and we have the best of the best leukemia doctor.  And most importantly and most reassuringly, he has already responded extraordinarily well to treatment.  His white blood cell count was 180,000 when we were diagnosed.  Today, it is 2800.  This means treatment is working.  Doctors are highly optimistic.

3. What goes on during these first 30 days?

Ari's chemotherapy consists of 7 medications.  4 of the medications he has already received full doses and now we wait for them to work.  In addition, he receives multiple lumbar punctures (spinal taps) each week to administer chemo directly into his spinal fluid and to test for cancer cells in his spinal fluid and brain.  He will need 3 clear lumbar taps before these discontinue.  He also receives 3 doses of steroids every day for 30 days to shrink cancer cells. And, he will undergo radiation treatment later in treatment to destroy any bad cells in his brain.

4. What are the side effects of treatment?

Each drug has its own set of effects.  We expect to see side effects of the first 4 medications within the next week.  They have been giving him anti-nausea medication and so far, we don't think he's been sick to his stomach (he did over-eat last night and puke up all his food, but I should have known 3 steak tips, a chicken thigh, a scoop of mashed potatoes, 5 mushrooms, a bunch of vegetables, a popsicle, and a glass of milk would be too much for his little tummy.  I now know for next time.  Oops).  He has bruises all over his little body.  His hair will fall out starting next week.  He will be tired.  He may have mouth sores and skin sores.  He may be agitated and cranky and angry.  The steroid makes him ravenous and causes extreme highs and lows.  To date, we've only seen the highs and we see them daily.  Only a video could adequately do these highs justice.  He becomes a crazy man.  He sings and dances and jumps and talks and tickles and flirts and goes berserk.  Last night he had an uncontrollable laughing fit for 30 minutes.  The high lasted from 6pm until 10:30pm.  I laugh just thinking about it.  I hope we continue to have one every day (just maybe not so late at night).  

5. Will 30 days of steroid use cause his penis to grow?

I've asked every doctor.  They're not sure.  But I hope so.  He ought to get some benefit from this.

6. Will anything hurt?

Aside from the side effects of medication, he should not feel much pain over the course of treatment.  He has a surgically placed IV line which makes blood draws and medication administration painless.  He will have a central line placed in his chest and that will stay in his body for 2 years.  No needles. And, he is sedated for every procedure that would cause even the slightest amount of pain. 

7. How did he get it?

Bad luck. Plain and simple.  They've done research and more research.  It's not genetic and it's not caused by environmental factors.  It just sucks. 

8. How can you help/what do we need?

Everyone has been asking and we really appreciate it.  We are fine!  We have dinners coming for the next 30 days (the last 2 nights have been incredible, not sure how they will be topped!).  We have toys and books and not much more space in our (double) room.  Ari is blood type O+ if you would like to donate blood or platelets.  And if you want to dress up as Elmo and come visit, I'm sure he'd love it.  Other than that, your thoughts and prayers (and please no pity or sad eyes) are all we request.

There's so much more to report...like what this week has been like, what our stay in the ICU was like, what our room on the oncology floor looks like, how incredible Matt has been, how the outpouring of love and support from our friends has utterly and completely overwhelmed us, how we are really doing, how I feel to have a child with cancer and a baby on the way, how great our parents have been...but if I go through all of that now, you'll get bored and I'll be out of material.

So until tomorrow, here's our daily update - Ari is so happy right now.  He's already played with a train set, watched some Elmo, had a little breakfast, and taken a walk around the floor.  He will be getting some blood soon and then we've gotten clearance to take him outside!  Tomorrow we have a lumbar tap so today we will live it up.  He looks great, huh? 

Oh, and for the record, I'm still obsessed with poop.   And so much more in love with my precious little boy, the light of my life, the person I believe I was brought on earth to care for and protect.  He's a fighter.  And so are we. 

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We are family

I know you're going to find this hard to believe, but here goes...

We are related to Elmo. 

Crazy, right? 

I just came to this conclusion recently, but now that I'm aware of Elmo's genetic composition, it's easy to understand why Ari loves Elmo...and why Ari loves my dad (his Pa-Pa).  As it turns out, Elmo's Dad and my Dad are long lost brothers!!  We're all freaking out!  This means...I have a new Uncle.  And Ari has a great Uncle.  And best of all, Ari and Elmo are first cousins!!

PROOF:

Elmo's Dad:

My Dad:

There's no denying the resemblance!  We must take a trip to Sesame Street for a family reunion.  Maybe we'll be invited for Thanksgiving. 

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Wax on

I love to clean out my ears.  If I could rub a q-tip inside my ear canal all day, I would.  Now, I understand that ear wax is there for a reason, but I choose to ignore medical advice and scoop and scrape until my ears are free of that yellow so-called good-for-me gunk.  I did learn the hard way once that, if I accidentally go too far inside my ear, I can disturb my equilibrium.  Since then, I am careful not to indulge too much.  I'd rather be waxy than dizzy.

Where am I going this?  Here...

Ari has had insane amounts of ear wax since he was a baby.  So much wax, in fact, that I could just use my pinky finger and gently remove globs from his ears...daily. As he got older, we started using the safety q-tip swabs after his bath and only removed the gooey goodness that had escaped his ear canal and was calling my name from the outer ear. 

I'm still amused by his overabundance of earwax.  This is last night's catch:

And as it turns out, Ari greatly enjoys the nightly ear ritual.  Every time I clean his ears, his entire body relaxes and he turns to the side until I finish.  He enjoys it so much that he doesn't want it to stop.  He gazes at me and signs for "more."  So I wasn't a bit surprised when he took the q-tip from me so he could do it himself. 

Talented, right?

I'm happy that my little guy and I share a fondness for the stress-relieving, massaging abilities that a simple q-tip in the ear can provide.  Life sure does have some simple pleasures.

Thanks for letting me wax poetic.

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R.I.P.

Brookline resident Toy Ferret, 3 months, died April 24th, 2012 at his home in Brookline, Massachusetts.

Toy ferret was born in China to parents with the same names.  He moved to an orphanage in Chestnut Hill, Massachusetts as a newborn and was adopted soon thereafter.

 

Toy lived a short but vivacious life.  He had boundless energy and a true joie de vivre.  He loved to roll around the house and buzz around the hardwood floors.  His big brother Ari spent hours chasing Toy and trying to pick him up and hold him.  Toy never complained, rather, seemed to revel in the attention.  The two were best friends.

 

Toy suffered a tragic end to his short life when Toy's mother, plagued with a splitting headache, was heard yelling, "I can no longer deal with this annoying Toy.  He never stops.  I can't take it anymore."  And with that, she tried to give Toy a short rest but accidentally injured Toy's internal organs making it impossible for Toy to regain his strength.  The family determined it would be in Toy's best interests to keep him out of medical care and simply pull the plug battery. 

 

 

 

He is survived by his brother Ari, his parents, and his many fellow annoying battery-operated toddler toys.

 

Condolences may be sent to Big Brother Ari.

 

A private burial was held at home.

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Private parts

Towards the very end of my 18 week ultrasound, the radiologist asked if we wanted to find out the gender of the fetus.  I told him we already knew it was a girl because we had CVS testing due to our genetic genes. 

With that, the doc said...

Doc: ...Okay, then if you look right there, you can see the labia.

Matt: (quivering) Labi-what?

Doc: Yes, the labia, it's part of the vagina.

Matt: But I don't want my baby to have labia.

Doc:: If she doesn't have labia, her vagina will be abnormal...deformed.

Matt: (Muttering) Oh. I didn't think about that.  Wait.  You mean, she's going to have a vaa...vaa...?

Doc: Vagina.

(Matt stopped talking and looked away from the ultrasound monitor.  He became eerily quiet and withdrawn.  I collected the print-out pictures, pulled up my stretchy pants, poked him to signal it was time to leave, and we walked out of the room.)

(Outside)

ME: Matt, you understand she will have a vagina?

Matt: Does she have to?

Me: What do you mean?  Yes, she has to.  That's what makes her a girl.

Matt: I don't want her to have a vaaa...vaaa...

Me: Gina. Vagina.

Matt: I don't want to talk about it.

Me: Okay, but Ari has a penis, right?  Boys have penises and girls have vagina's. 

Matt: I don't want to talk any more about it.

Me: Are you joking?

Matt: And I'm not going to touch it.

Me: Incorrect.  You will change her diaper.

Matt: That's fine, but I won't touch it. And I won't look at it. 

Me: I touch Ari's penis multiple times a day.  I put vaseline on it for a week after his circumcision.  I clean poop off of it on a regular basis!

Matt: That's really nice of you.  I am just letting you know I won't be touching her... her... her...

Me: Vagina?

Matt: I don't want to talk any more about it.

(Matt gets in his car and drives away)

I went home and googled "dad afraid of baby girl" and I found this list of 10 common dad fears.  What's on the list?  Concerns included are the baby's health, lack of sleep, not being a good dad, and having to grow up (examples include drink less beer and play fewer video games).  It seems anxiety over a baby girl's vagina is not so common.

There's also gynophobia, defined as an abnormal fear of women.  This could be the diagnosis, except we all know Matt doesn't have that (or else we wouldn't have conceived this little issue in the first place).

So, I guess I'm just going to have to wait and hope Matt gets over this fear as soon as the baby arrives.  I'll hold off from teaching him about front-to-back wiping for now.  That may put him over the edge.

And, I can't believe he's really freaked out about this. 

What a pussy!

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Sh*t my Nanny says (part 2)

I once blogged about my Jamaican Nanny D.  That post was such a hit that people always ask for new D stories.

So, I'm going to humor all of you.  But let me preface this all by saying that she's the racist, not me.  I am simply re-stating the things she says. No hate mail.  OK?

Soooo...

On a warm day, Matt and I go to the park to find Ari running around without any shoes. 

Me: D, where are his shoes?
D: He doesn't need shoes.
Me: Why not?
Do: He's West Indian.
Me: He is?
Do: Yeah, he loves spicy food, he listens to Bob Marley, and he doesn't wear shoes.  He's West Indian.
Me: Okay, but he could get hurt.
D: You crazy. West Indians are tough.
(Me: How can I argue with that?  She's obviously right.  My kid must be West Indian?  His skin tone is just deceiving.)

Then a week later, I hand D an outfit for Ari.  The conversation continues as follows:

Do: I'm not putting my baby in this.
Me: Why not?
Do: It's mitchmatched.
Me: No it's not.
D: Yes it is.  You always dress him mitchmatched.
Me: It's not mismatched.
D: It is mitchmatched.  The colors don't go.  He looks like an Asian.
Me: Excuse me? 
D: Yeah, you always dress him like an Asian.
Me: First of all, he is dressed well.  Second of all, so are the Asians.
D: Not an Asian, an Asian.
Me: Come again?
D: Not an Asian, an Asian.
Me: Like Chinese?  Korean?  What?  I don't understand.
D: ASIAN!!!  Not Asian!
Me: Why are you yelling at me?  The Asians I see are always in designer outfits.
D: NOT ASIAN...ASIAN!!!  AAAAYYYSHHHHHAN!
Me: Calm down D.  Will you please spell that?
D: ASIAN! spelled H-A-I-T-I-A-N!
ME: Oh, Hhhhhatian.
D: You crazy. What did you think I was saying?
Me: Well this makes sense now.  I dress Ari like a Haitian...since he's West Indian.
D: Girl, you crazy.

Whatever you say D.

(If you're interested, you can watch my little West Indian jamming to Bob Marley here.)

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Cool as a Cucumber

Most kids are picky eaters.  They mainly like carbs and candy.  Not my kid.  He likes green vegetables.  No joke.  So much, in fact, that I called the pediatrician to ask her what to do since there were a few weeks when he would only ingest broccoli and green beans and brussel sprouts.  Her response?  Take advantage of it.

His all-time favorite green veggie... the cucumber.  He'll take it raw or pickled.  Sliced thin or thick or speared.  Peeled or unpeeled.  And most commonly, in full form.  He'll just suck and slurp all day long.  (I know what you're thinking.  And no, he didn't get that from me.  That's why girls get married.)

Exhibit A:

It took him the entire shopping trip, but he successfully swallowed every bit of that Persian cucumber. 

He also likes to hold his cucumber while lounging.  (This he may, in fact, get from his daddy.)

Exhibit B:

Pretty good form, eh?

And finally, we have the little boy who thinks he's Moses.

Exhibit C: Check out my rod.  Go that way!

An old man stopped us to say, "that's a mighty fine cucumber you've got little boy."  (Sick-o.)  Ari giggled and offered the man a bite.  (Sick-o.)

I've learned to relish in the fact that Ari loves his veggies.  But maybe I should introduce him to celery instead?

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How do you feel??

It's the question of the hour 9 months.

Friends, neighbors, and family (and strangers) all want to know.  JulieSue, how are you feeling?!  And they expect the standard answer.  So I oblige.  "I feel pretty well."

But, do you really want to know how I feel?  Like, really and truly? 

Alright, then I'll tell ya.

I'm constipated.

My nipples could cut glass. 

I am a discharge factory.

I have to pee.  Oh wait, I have to pee again.

I am awake at night more than I am asleep.

I fart all day long.  And the smell is nauseating.  Well okay, I like it, but you don't. 

I have zits.

My ass has already doubled in size.

I am a hairy beast.

I can smell your breath from here.

My gums bleed when I brush my teeth.

I sweat through my sheets at night.

I'm glowing. My skin is so dry it is flaking off.

I look fat, not pregnant.  Stop lying.  (And I hate when you glance at my gut and tell me I look good.) 

Oh, and the hemorrhoids are back.  Lovely.

So how am I feeling?  Thank you so much for asking.  I'm feeling great!

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Perv

Ari is a chatterbox.  He's been vocal for many months, and he carries on lengthy conversations with me (and with himself), yet his English vocabulary is still a bit, well, ineffective.  I'm pretty good at deciphering his broken English, but the residents of Brookline are often taken aback by his word choice.

You see, he uses the same two words to point out the following items: Clock, Train, Tree, Rooster (or any bird), Truck, Sock, Tickle, Toes, Cloud, Carrot, and many other "c" and "t" words.

And what, you ask, are the two words he shouts every single time he sees or hears any of these things?

"COCK!"  "TITTY!"

Usually, it's like this (pointing) to one tree after another, "titty titty titty titty titty titty."  And when he sees a bird, he runs after it screaming "cock!!! cock!! cock!!" 

(We won't be teaching the next kid the sound a rooster makes.)

So now you understand my problem.  There are a lot of trees in the neighborhood.  And he's obsessed with trucks.  And on cloudy days, I really should just stay inside.

There's not much I can do except say the full name of the object and hope he catches on.  (And try not to laugh.  Too much.  Other moms don't find it funny.) 

And until then, I'm the Mom with the potty mouth child.

(And I couldn't be prouder.)

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Potty Training part 1

Now that the cat's out of the bag  fetus is out of the sack  enough JulieSue, we you know what you're saying word is out, I feel a bit more authentic blogging about my life.  It also helps to feel much better and have the energy to sit down and type.

And boy-oh-boy do I have a lot to tell you. 

Oh wait, first and most importantly, I should have said GIRL-OH-GIRL do I have some funny sh*t going on these days.  (Yeah!  Catch my not-so-subtle baby making drift?)

So here's my first of many upcoming posts. 

I decided to start potty training my not-yet-ready toddler.  Now, if you were to ask me which training approach sounds most effective and least painful and time consuming, it's this 1 week plan.  The gist?  It's like tearing off a band aid, err, or a diaper.  One wet week and then you're diaper free.  However, listening to the the voice from above Nanny and not my instincts, we purchased a potty seat and continue to let Ari sit on the toilet when we think he needs to pee...or poop...or, whenever he wants to sit on it.

The good news?  He loves the potty.  In fact, he can now remove his diaper all by himself!  He doesn't even need to remove the adhesives, he just shimmies and yanks and...

...there it goes.

He walks to the toilet, points and says "up", and...

...he sits patiently, makes a grunting sound like he's pushing (he must have learned that from his daddy, he definitely did not learn that from me over the last 4 months since I simply don't go anymore), and sometimes he even has a snack as he hangs out at the toilet.

But the bad news?  There's no action.  It's like waiting for Godot...or, more fittingly, for Ari to go.

And then, when we're both sufficiently bored and convinced nothing is ever going to happen, he hops off his baby throne, I take out a clean diaper, and...

...he does his business. On the floor.  Pretty often. (I can already hear our playdates calling to cancel.)

Crap!  Where did I go wrong?!

It's good to be back,

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Oh SHOO-T

I often dream about what Ari will be like when he gets older.  Since he's already very athletic, and he loves to be the center of attention, and he's constantly doing silly things to make people laugh, I can imagine him playing on a sports field, speaking at a podium, and joking with a group of friends.  He's going to be one very cool guy.

But there's another trait that has me a tad concerned.  I first noticed this strange behavior a few months ago when Ari went from crawling to walking.  Whenever I would attempt to put his shoes on his feet, he would squirm and kick and run away as fast as possible.  And, after I would corner him, pin him down, and velcro on his kicks, he would, almost immediately, kick/pull/maneuver just right and set his feet free. 

Has this Houdini-like shoe behavior gotten any better?  Nope.  In fact, while I have become more efficient at getting the shoes on, he is just as proficient at removing them (particularly in the car).

I know what you're thinking... the kid doesn't like to wear his shoes.  Normal toddler behavior.  No big deal. 

But wait.  There's a catch.

As it turns out, he does like to wear shoes.  He wants to wear them all day long.  In fact, he is happy taking them on and off and on and off.  And sometimes, he puts a pair on his hands and a pair on his feet.  He just can't get enough shoe.

So what's the issue?

Well, it's not these trendy, perfectly fitting, little boy sneakers that he likes to wear:

Nope.  Rather, he likes to wear these:

And these:

And, well, yeah, these:

He's like the naked cowboy.  Or something.

Since Ari refuses to wear his own shoes, and prefers to raid my closet, there's really only one thing to do about it...

Hey Matt - Mama needs a new pair of shoes!

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