Year: 2013

(Warning: Minorly graphic pictures of bumps and scrapes in this post. It’s really not bad but I feel like you are supposed to advise about these things.)

So as I remind everyone constantly, most of my time is spent taking care of a 31 pound picky eater with a fluctuating appetite, short attention span, ever-changing moods and a huge, monster love for climbing, jumping, and you know, any kind of physical activity really. Now that the weather has finally turned nice, we are outside a lot a lot a lot. (Sunny days + warm air) ± (shorts and Crocs) + running¹⁰ = BOO BOO SEASON. 

Since the last time I posted, there have been a few major incidences, only one of which landed us in the emergency room. About 10 days ago, Ashton was outside playing with a toy firetruck, pushing it way too fast and those damned Crocs…he tripped and fell and sliced the bottom corner of his lip open.

It doesn’t look that big, but then, Ashton’s not that big so size is all relative. That’s an authentic teardrop too. Anyway, it was really deep in person blah blah and I had one of those moments where I felt totally frozen. Jason was at work and of course it was a Sunday so the pediatrician wasn’t open. Do I take him to the ER? Do I not? Sigh. I packed up and went. Luckily it was not the 6 hour affair it was the last time. They told me that if it were any other spot, they’d stitch, but with toddlers they do not have success with sutures holding in that area. Home we went and by 2 pm Ashton was asleep in his crib. Don’t worry, we went for another walk that afternoon, Ashton fell again and got more scrapes on his face. Oh the joy.

OVERALL OUCH FACTOR: 6+
(+ stands for ERVN – emergency room visit needed)
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We are 2 for 2 with his knees. They actually look worse right now – this picture is a few days old.

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And then, last night. Ohhhh, last night. I picked Ashton up, we went to the grocery store and then took a walk around the block before dinner. There is some road construction nearby and he is obsessed with tractors, trucks, bulldozers and backhoes. So we went to take a look.

We were having a nice walk, full of adventure 😉 And then, ugh. He stood up on the curb and was walking along it. I took out my iPhone to get his picture but realized my camera roll was full (as it often is). So I flipped through and was quickly deleting to make space for new ones and that’s when he fell. 😦 Right off the curb and faceplanted into the street. He split his forehead up by his hairline, scratched the side of his nose and blood was going everywhere. I could not believe how fast it flowed! I stripped his t-shirt and used it to try to apply pressure and get the gravel out of his mouth and nose…he was screaming. It was awful. We were two streets from home and I ran back with a shirtless, bloody toddler in my arms and called Jason no less than 6 times. He ended up coming home from work for 20 minutes to help me clean out the cut (I couldn’t see how bad it was because his hair was matted and he wouldn’t let me near it). Luckily, I did not see his skull gaping through which is what I had braced myself for (I can be, as they say, a bit dramatic). I was praying not to have to go to the emergency room for stitches and aside for the monstrous egg on his forehead, he seemed to be ok. I, on the other hand, was still crying long after Ashton had stopped.

OVERALL OUCH FACTOR: 7.5
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Yes, I know kids get hurt. Yes, I know little boys especially. It still doesn’t make it any easier. Twice in the past ten days (three times actually, he fell and bit his lower lip that resulted in bleeding too), Ashton has fallen on his face and started crying. There is literally that moment of dread, like Oh my god, right before you pick them up when you wonder what you are going to find: where the cut is, how deep is it, if all his teeth will be there, etc. It’s hard

But for Ashton, nothing above compares to the worst pain of all. Not one of his injuries in the last couple of weeks can compare to the dreaded haircut. This event warranted a very public pacifier both before and after. That’s when you know it’s bad. That awful salon! And all those poor hairs, cut within an inch of their lives…I didn’t get a “during” picture, you can imagine why.

OVERALL OUCH FACTOR: 10. It’s been a tough couple of weeks.

And that was Mother’s Day part deux. What a difference a year makes…

That’s one and three quarters, for the layperson.

Usually at the nice round numbers of age, we have a pediatrician appointment and I can report all the new stats. But not this time folks – go ahead and lean back in those seats. We are on a long stretch without any well-visits and Ashton doesn’t go again until 24 months (two, for the layperson). I’m no expert, but I think this is pretty accurate:

Height: tall
Weight: heavy
Teeth: lots
Head: hard

That about sums it up. Oh, and if anyone wants to buy him anything, he’s a 2T (3T pajama) and size 7 shoe.

Here’s what else 21 months looks like around here:

Biggest challenge: It’s a tie, between being not quite counter height and staying awake during lunch.

Alias: Pigpen. This kid gets DIRTY (see cheeks above right) and has ripped two pairs of pants in the past week. He also likes to use his hair as a napkin during mealtimes.

Favorite word: TITS. He means, of course, “grapes”.

Most improved skill: teeth brushing. He used to thrash, whine and jerk his head away when I tried to do it. Now he goes and gets the stool, climbs on, and holds the toothbrush under the water before putting in his mouth and chewing on it licking it “brushing”. In another couple of weeks he will have all his teeth in except for his 2 year molars. Pearly whites!

Obsession: belly buttons. His, mine, yours. They are fascinating.

Most likely found at: the top of the slide.

Record number of “Buh byes”: 5. Now, when a little toddler tells you “Buh bye!” you can’t not echo the sentiment. You have to say it back otherwise you’re just rude. The problem is, Ashton will keep repeating it and he trapped our poor neighbor last night into saying it FIVE times. I dragged him from the sidewalk, up the front steps and then through the door and it was like this the entire way:

Ashton: “Buh bye!” (waving)
Neighbor: “Bye Ashton!” (waving back)
Ashton: “Bye!”
Neighbor: “Goodbye!”
Ashton: “mmmm bye!”
Neighbor: “Bye! Good night!”
Ashton: “Buh byyyye…”
Neighbor: “Bye bye.”
Ashton: “BYE! Buh bye!”
Neighbor: “[haha] Okay! Buh bye, yes! Buh bye.” (still waving, by the way)
Ashton: “Bye…” (ALSO still waving until I finally shut the door behind us and cut him off. Phew. He said it one more time when I put him down and then ran off to find his cars. Longest goodbye ever.

Versions of the word “No”: 8. (Most popular: “NOOOOOOoo” with a gradual descent in tone. I don’t know if you’ve heard, but things are rarely satisfactory around here.)

Biggest “When did you get so big?” moment: It’s time to get a potty. In the last month, when he goes, 75% of the time he will come find you and say “Poo-poo!” and he knows it is time for a diaper change. Earlier this week we were getting ready for his tubby and he kept tugging at his diaper and saying it. I said, “But Ashton, you haven’t gone yet – there isn’t any poo-poo in there.” He persisted, pulling his diaper and then:

“Ashton, do you have to GO poo-poo?? Right now? OMG!” So I stripped him and perched him on the toilet like as fast as I could. He smiled. I held him there for a full minute, waiting and literally composing my text to Jason in my head that Ashton had gone on the potty and then, obviously, he didn’t go. Oh well. But he looked so proud to be up there. This has happened one more time since then and you can tell he thinks sitting on the toilet is a HUGE adventure. The joke might be on me. But I still can’t believe that we are approaching such a big kid thing.

Worst meal: Dinner. Conveniently the one that Jason misses 5 nights a week. I don’t know what it is, but dinner isn’t enough. This kid wants dinner and a show. Or some kind of entertainment. Unless his food is hidden in something, presented in a new container, grouped by color or in a sauce, he won’t eat it. And his preferences change daily. Most days I throw the kitchen sink at him because I never know what will win him over.

If you asked me what Ashton ate for dinner, I’d say: “Well, some watermelon, but only after he stacked the halved grapes on top. A quarter of an avocado, but only when it was scooped directly out of the skin, and with a spoon NOT a fork. Cottage cheese, out of the original container, with a fork NOT a spoon. Some beef and cheese quesadilla – just the pieces that had salsa on them. The ones that touched the sour cream or were plain he threw on the floor. Oh, and a sharp piece of potato chip. That he used to spear the pieces of the quesadilla that only had salsa on them. No fork or spoon for that, JUST the chip. Lastly, some string cheese, that he ate as long as he had a piece in each hand. Always a piece for each hand. And water of course, in the blue sippy. Like I would consider the green one. Until tomorrow, when everything I just said will be reversed.”

Sigh: He has now joined the 3 billion other males out there that know where their penis is. I’d say I’m so proud but they are the only ones that think they deserve a medal for this.

Ad Nauseum Book: Collection of Nursery Rhymes featuring Mickey Mouse. This will become Ashton’s second book club book – stand by.

Biggest procrastination: I own this one. The great PACIFIER PHASEOUT PLAN has commenced. Pacis in cribs only, for sleepy time. But this kid can whine me to death and I have been known to break my own rules. This is going to be very tough, in all seriousness. Ashton goes to sleep and wakes up with a paci in his mouth and one in each hand. Yikes. My head keeps saying, “He’s too big for a paci!” but my heart responds, “He’s still a baby!”

So, somewhere between a baby and a big kid, this has been the 21 month report. Busy as always. xo

Honestly, I’ve stopped going on Pinterest. It makes me feel inadequate. Given the time, I’m pretty sure Pinterest could help me make everything in my life magazine-perfect, from my hair to my house, but I was spending too much time pinning and not enough time DOING. And I was developing a complex. All these great ideas, sooo many great ideas, and truthfully I have never brought even one of my pins to fruition.

[pause for dramatics] 

UNTIL NOW.

The lucky winner of my time was this pin. It promised me like-new, clean cookie sheets after years of abuse. You KNOW you have one that looks like this:

Or worse. I do, in fact, have worse but this is my favorite, half-sheet Sur la Table pan that I use every day so I decided to start here. In my case, this is night after night of cooking Ashton’s chicken fingers, tater tots, and fish sticks and never properly cleaning it because there is simply too much other stuff that ALSO needs cleaning. Including but not limited to: the floors, the walls, the counters, the sink, the dishes, the highchair and Ashton himself. But I digress.

The pin is really simple. Put about 1/4 cup baking soda into a small bowl and add just enough hydrogen peroxide to make a paste. I smeared it on and, maybe a little too eagerly, immediately started scrubbing.

Hmmm. Let’s just say I was afraid this post was going to be more like a before and…well, before. The pan was laughing at me. I double-checked the original website off of Pinterest- she had tested this method on a flat cookie sheet and specifically noted corners and grooves are the toughest. And of course, mine had grooves – 66 to be exact.

So I mixed more paste and let it sit for a few minutes…voila! You know those little wooden BBQ skewers? They are my all purpose cleaning tool for hard to reach spots and I scraped all 66 grooves out, plus the middle circle.

Welllll…

p.s. this post is dedicated to my mom. Now she knows how poorly I have taken care of the pan she got me

GOLF bag, that is. And by bag I mean job. Although, he does have a new golf bag too, and I guess he COULD use it at his new job, but not for awhile probably. Too confusing?

How about: As of May 7, Jason will be the new Food and Beverage Director at Brae Burn Country Club in Newton. Officially. Wow. This is such a huge opportunity and I’m so proud of him. He definitely has his work cut out for him – they are finishing up a major renovation to their clubhouse and are looking for an overall freshening up of the food and beverage program. We have some wonderful family friends that recommended him for the position, he interviewed twice and fast forward to yesterday, he was giving his notice at the Lenox. I know he was really sad about it, especially because it’s become an even more tight knit group after the bombings, but this means no more 3 am nights and a big step up career-wise. I am super excited for him, it’s going to be such a welcome lifestyle change.

If it’s any indication what a classy and thoughtful community he is entering into, I received absolutely gorgeous flowers today at work: “Dear Kristen and Ashton, on behalf of the Board of Directors, the Management Team and the Staff, welcome to the Brae Burn family!” I was so touched. Everyone knows what a big move this is and Jason has support from all sides – it was incredibly nice for BBCC to think of me too! Could not believe it.

Something tells me Jason will become a regular at Golf Town. Gotta look the part. He got new clubs last summer (he does play, and I swing the sticks at the driving range every now and then) but I have a feeling his golf game is going to be getting a lot of new attention. To the point where things might go like this at our house:

But I know he will do great – he is totally committed, a creative problem solver and he never gives up.

Boy there is no shortage of golf cartoons out there.

Honestly, it seems like there is never a dull moment around here. Two weeks ago, Ashton was in the emergency room. Last week, the Boston Marathon was bombed and the perpetrator was captured in our hometown. This week, Jason has a new job. These are like major things! I would have combined this post with the one I just did but this is so much more newsworthy that it deserves to stand on its own. Congratulations again honey! 🙂

It is spring. FINALLY! Yesterday was sunny, in the 60’s, and the warm air has never felt so good. One of the best things about spring is watching the leaves and flowers come out. We have been looking at sticks and general brownness (sp?) for so long that when all this life comes back out, it’s easy to feel renewed and refreshed.

We moved into our house at the end of January when this was the view out of our bedroom window.

I admit I do love how the only color is the red American flag, especially after last week. (Can I be honest about something here? I could have written that sentence as “I admit I do love the red in this photo for its pop of color, especially after last week.” I just hate that phrase “pop of color”. No idea why. Hate it. Phew I feel better to get that off my chest.)

Anyway, I’m in love with the tree out front. I’m in love with our entire house actually. We’ve lived here almost 3 months and the novelty has not worn off. I still can’t believe we got so lucky and am grateful every day. But back to the tree. Like the rest of our yard, we had no idea what it would do with the warm April showers. And then all of a sudden, it was yesterday and the tree had exploded. Here’s a little before (early February) and after (late April):

I just think they are so beautiful. Although, what WON’T be beautiful is when all those petals fall and smoosh into the sidewalk. Sigh.

Another thing that is not beautiful is our yard and specifically, the front right corner if you’re looking at the house straight on. If you can bear to look:

The green shoots turned out to be random clumps of daffodils. They were unfortunately yanked out and, where they used to be, we put in pretty little shrubs with pretty pink flowers. The entire bed was raked, mulched and now….

So, we’re getting there. Our backyard is the true horror story but I won’t tell that one yet.

The best part about the sun coming out, besides a new landscaping season, is baby-sized aviators from Target. It’s just so BRIGHT around here!

Awwww yeahhhhh. 🙂

Where do I begin. My last post documented what happened on Monday, April 15th, 2013 – the bombings at the Boston Marathon and my personal connection to it. What I didn’t know at the time was that things were going to get even more personal by the time the week was over.

The day after the bombings, Tuesday, was hectic for Jason. The FBI took over the Lenox Hotel – he put in a 15 hour day trying to piece together all the financials from the previous day (guests that had paid to stay but had been evacuated, all the open checks from revelers in the middle of lunch when the explosions happened, etc.) and trying to coordinate everyone coming back for their belongings that they were forced to leave so suddenly.

Perhaps most notable to Jason was how weird it was that Boylston Street was like a ghost town. All the baby carriages, balloons, banners, etc. were still sitting in the exact same spots. The cafe across the street still had beers and plates of food sitting on their tables. The FBI and pretty much every kind of law enforcement officer that you can think of had descended upon these few blocks and when the Lenox set up a buffet, expecting 100 people, over 250 came through and they were out of food in no time. They said they hadn’t eaten – in fact, they had raided the Dunkin Donuts and convenience store right across the street for drinks and snacks as the doors were wide open, the cash registers abandoned. Nothing was allowed in or out of the area (Jason himself had to get through multiple checkpoints from where he parked his car to the hotel – military police were everywhere) and Jason said he himself was back in the kitchen with the other few employees that had been able to show up that day, cooking every last scrap of food they could find.
The evidence collection process appeared to be painstakingly slow. Jason told me that they had everything on a grid in small squares no more than a yard each. They took pictures of how the debris lay, a camera took a 360 degree circular snap, and then each piece was picked up, labeled, sorted, boxed and brought inside. Next square. With a territory of several city blocks to cover, not to mention the roofs and sides and windows of buildings to scour, it was not going to be over any time soon.

He came home late Tuesday night and could not stop saying how weird it was. They had dozens of dogs – the conference and events rooms at the hotel had become a kennel. Snipers scanned the neighborhood from multiple lookout points, including the brand new suites on the top floor. And there were 2 guards at all times blocking the entrance to where the evidence was being kept. The remains of the bomb itself had been swept off to Quantico almost immediately.

Wednesday was Jason’s day off and I think the trauma of the last two days finally set in. He spent most of the evening very quiet and a bit withdrawn, clearly in a far off place mentally. He had not slept at all. He said he could not stop reliving it – how the blasts felt, how they sounded, where he was, what he did. After the explosions, he ran to the windows of the hotel and looked out at the chaos as the doors were being locked. He said, “I kept thinking, ‘I need to go out there, I need to help!’ But my feet wouldn’t move. My mind kept flashing to you and Ashton.”

Wednesday night was another sleepless night and Thursday, at work again, he felt a bit better being back down there, surrounded by the people that were working tirelessly to identify the suspects and amongst others that had been through the same horrific experience. I think it felt good to know he was not the only one feeling how he was feeling. He got home late again, although by now other restaurants in the area were taking turns bringing food in to feed the massive group of people that had been flown in from all corners of the country to work on this. The FBI released pictures of the suspected bombers and then every person in Boston was on the hunt.

Yesterday, Friday morning. I was vaguely aware of our house phone ringing around 5:15 am. My phone buzzed. And buzzed again. The house phone kept ringing. Jason’s rang. Mine buzzed again. And finally around 6:15 am we were awake enough to realize that something was going on. Our parents and some of our friends were desperately trying to get in touch with us. SECOND BOMBING SUSPECT ON THE LOOSE IN WATERTOWN – DO NOT LEAVE THE HOUSE!! If we were not fully awake before then, we were at that point. Pulling up the news on our phones, we laid in bed and tried to get ourselves up to speed. They were Russian brothers. There had been a robbery the night before. Then a dead security officer. Then a carjacking. Then a high speed chase and finally a shootout and explosions in Watertown and the older brother was killed. The younger one had fled on foot and was somewhere near where we lived.

The next 10 hours were, safe to say, awful. We were locked in our house, glued to the TV. Law enforcement had set up a 20 block perimeter in a neighborhood on the opposite side of town as us and were searching house by house. We waited all day, praying there would all of a sudden be a press conference saying they had caught him. Ashton was a monster – beyond bored. Jason paced. We were so stressed out. Then, our worst fears. At the 6:30 pm news conference, they announced they had completed their search and had come up empty handed. We watched it with a heavy heart. Jason started to cut some wood to reinforce our doors. I wondered how on earth we would sleep. This guy could be hiding in our garage! His last known location was a mile from our house.

I made Jason turn off the TV. I was done. We made gin and tonics, strong ones. And then gave Ashton a bath and did storytime up in his room. I read while Jason checked Facebook. He said, “Oh my god, wait…they think they have him now!”

We put Ashton to bed, bounded downstairs and turned the news BACK on. He was hiding in a boat in a backyard on Franklin Street, not too far from here at all:

During the news conference 45 minutes prior, they had said that the lockdown, shelter-in-place order had been lifted but to please remain vigilent as this was still a dangerous situation. People went outside, took their dogs for a walk, and fired up their BBQ’s. And then, not long after that, authorities received a call from a house one block outside the perimeter of the area they had spent all day searching. The caller had noticed his garage doors were open, but he had not been outside. Then he noticed blood on the side of his boat…The rest is history. Suspect #2, the younger brother, was taken into custody. Alive.

Here is a fun fact. The house next door, the one that shares the fence? Jason and I considered buying it before we bought this one last fall. We have personally seen that boat and stood in the next yard over.
Anyway, words can’t express the relief we felt. So totally consuming. We watched the ensuing news conference confirming he was in custody, listened to all the people lining the streets of Watertown clapping and cheering. And then finally went to bed and Jason slept for the first time since Monday. The closure gave us both peace.

The news teams will move on. FBI agents will leave the hotel, Boylston Street will re-open and eventually normalcy will return for most of us. But for me and especially for Jason, it’s an experience we will never forget. Reflecting on this past week and remembering the runners on Monday, where this all began, it feels like a hundred years has passed. Almost makes me want to train for the marathon next year. Almost 😉

As the world knows, bombs went off at the finish line of the Boston marathon yesterday, killing 3 people and injuring over 100 more. Everyone has their own story of the day but this is mine.

Jason was scheduled to work 9 am – 9 pm. He manages the restaurants at The Lenox Hotel, which is about 10 feet from the finish line on Boylston Street. It is their busiest day of the year – New Balance rents out Solas, the bar there, and the whole place is filled all day with runners, cheerleaders, press, etc. So Ashton and I were on our own. We briefly considered going downtown to visit him in the morning but I didn’t want to deal with parking and all that. So Chera and I decided to take the boys to over to Commonwealth Avenue in Newton (mile 18 or so) to try and see some runners there. I drove over to her house and we took Ashton and Owen for a walk around the block first. They held hands.

What a day. Jason was supposed to be off today but when they evacuated the hotel, they went floor by floor and everything was immediate. Guests still have their belongings in the hotel rooms and literally all the lights are on, the beers, food, unpaid checks are still sitting on the tables. Ghost town. So he is there now to help clean up and try to get things back to normal. I’ll be anxious to hear his stories when he gets home tonight.

I have obviously read many other accounts and we continued to watch the news all night last night, mostly in silence. A lot of close calls, people who finished 3 minutes before the first explosion, tearful reunions. This was an incredibly sad day in Boston. But I can’t help but think – this is what the streets are like every day in other parts of the world. The violence and bloodshed in these far off places are accompanied by men with guns, perpetual fear, and much, much bigger bombs. What must that be like?

Jason came home to me. Runners met up with their families and the wounded received immediate medical attention. It seems inappropriate to say “We are lucky”, but we are. Americans are strong and full of heart – we will honor the victims and our spirits will heal. This was an event that will strengthen our bond and for me, has been an important reminder to be thankful that this is not daily life for my son:

Courage and love to all the runners and everyone who was impacted by yesterday’s tragedy. Of course we all were, but some much more than others, including my husband.

Hello? Hello, hi, it’s Ashton. A little birdie told me I’m getting a bad rap on this blog. Specifically, that I’ve been referred to as “a ferocious little dinosaur”. Now that’s just silly – dinosaurs aren’t little and neither am I. Not sure where that comes from. It also seems that my mom is already blaming me for any and all future coffee table damage. You know that saying “who needs enemies when you have friends like that”? As if I would bother with the coffee table, the most boring piece of furniture in the house. Anyway, the point is that the birdie told me if I ever wanted to get on this blog and say my piece, now would be a good time. To save my reputation and all.

Besides general destruction, chaos and constantly sticky hands (“grubby little fists”), I am also accused of whining a lot. Well picture this: you’re minding your own business, quietly playing with your trucks and then faster than you can say “Pampers” you are swept up, laid flat on your back with your legs in the air and your nether regions violated with a wet wipe. How do you think that feels? No warning whatsoever. You were just playing with your trucks! The only thing worse is the nubby washcloth that assaults my face after every meal. Listen, you’d whine too. You’d also be mad if your milk was too cold, your toys were too organized, and you were forced to take a nap every day. Who has time for that?? Personally, I’m too busy.

My mom recently started to read “The Happiest Toddler on the Block”. I snuck a peek – who is this person? What kind of Kool-Aid are they drinking? While it didn’t give me a name, I did learn that members of my demographic should be considered “little cavemen”, unequipped with patience or the ability to reason and hence, prone to tantrums. I sat quietly pondering this. Well, which is it? Am I a caveman or am I a dinosaur? Perhaps the problem is that they can’t come up with something more modern! Either way, I would like to meet this H. Toddler. Maybe the snacks are better at his house.

I’ve been enrolled in Early Intervention for speech. At 20 months old, my vocabulary is not big enough and I don’t pro-NUN-see-ate. I do wave and say “Buh-bye” quite frequently, and it’s intentional, but my mom never gets the hint. She smiles and then STAYS where she IS. So annoying. I end up having to be the one to leave, usually in search of a toy that I don’t own because she never buys me anything. But where was I. Oh, Early Intervention. So far EI has meant a nice lady coming once a week for an hour to play with me. Besides her terrifying bumblebee puppet, I like her. She calls me “adventurous and brave” instead of  “ferocious” like my mom SOME people.

My best friend is Owen. He is the only one I would ever want at the top of the slide with me. NOT my mom. The bottom line is, what does she want from me? I know I’m not the best shopper. Sitting in one place for an extended period of time (>1 minute) is a lot to ask. I know I tug at her leg when she’s trying to brush her teeth, or cook, or do anything at all, really. I like to be included, so what? But I sleep through the night. I drink my cold milk. I take the damn nap! A little appreciation for my positive qualities would be nice around here. In fact, based on what I’ve read, my mom should be thanking me for the material. I’m the talent! Now who do I call about royalties?

This might get long but I think it’s necessary. Let’s start with last Tuesday around 5:30 pm. Chera and Owen had just left after a little impromptu playdate and the boys had been running around like crazy with their trucks. I put the oven on for Ashton’s dinner when I noticed he was having an extremely difficult time breathing. Short gasps and wheezing. He had had a bad cold but I have never heard him struggle for air like this. I sat on the floor next to him and my stomach dropped – I just knew we were headed for the emergency room (because doesn’t stuff like this always happen on nights and weekends when the pediatrician is closed?!). I paged the doctor on call and put the phone up so she could hear Ashton’ breathing. Long story short, off we went to the pediatric ER at Newton Wellesley. We have been there twice before, once for croup and once for the gash Tate left on Ashton’s face when he bit him.

The rest of the story plays out like your typical emergency room visit. Forms, co-pays, a packed waiting room, check-in, and finally, a room where we waited and waited. A room filled with gadgets and buttons and wires that I had to keep Ashton from playing with, pushing and pulling. The medical treatment for his wheezing was a nebulizer – a little machine that you put liquid meds into, it shoots out a mist and the patient is supposed to breath in the white fog for as long as it takes to empty (ideally with a mask on). Ashton was petrified, screamed and I was sweating from holding his flailing body for five solid minutes (I was by myself – Jason was working). Afterwards, “We’d like to monitor him for the next couple of hours to make sure his lungs don’t close back up.” Excuse me? The next COUPLE of hours? “Yes, and we should mention, the medicine we just gave him can act as a stimulant for some children.” So he is going to be even more hyper than he is now, not having had dinner and past his bedtime by 2 hours? N.o.t. p.o.s.s.i.b.l.e.

It was a blur. Ashton was up, down, on the floor, on the ceiling, rolling around and basically a pinball in a pinball machine. They brought toys in, a little DVD player to watch Mickey, snacks and books and it was a very long 2 hours. They give him a liquid steroid, monitored him for another hour, and he finally crashed after crying his head off for a solid ten minutes. We left at 12 am. Once I got him in his crib I sat and gave him another 20 minute nebulizer treatment, snaking the tube next to his nose and mouth and he breathed it peacefully, fast asleep. I did this again at 4:30 am.

I had to take Wednesday off from work to continue to try to give him nebulizer treatments (even with Jason’s help, yeah right. He won’t sit still for anything for 20 minutes, let alone a machine that blows white mist into his face), go fill his prescriptions and get him to the pediatrician for a followup visit. He did not want to take a nap in the afternoon so I spent about 90 minutes off and on rocking him and trying to get him in his crib despite his wailing. I tried to squeeze some actual work in somewhere. Wednesday night I was so, so tired.

Thursday was ok.

Friday morning Jason had to be at work at 7 am so he was out the door by 6:30. I was on my own. I had to be at work at 8:30 and get Ashton to Chera’s by 8:15 so I  rolled him out of bed at 7:30 am and straight into his highchair with breakfast waiting. He did not like this one bit. Usually Jason is home and they play and watch a little bit of cartoons before he eats. Perhaps he was not hungry but he whined and screamed and eventually I just threw in the towel and packed it all up to take to Chera’s. 5 minutes later, he is pointing to his high chair. Oh, NOW you want breakfast?? I put him back in, unpack his food, and re-serve him. It’s 8 am.

Nope. Ashton starts to pick things up one by one and fling them in every direction. Isn’t this fun? He laughs. I  want to scream. Back out of the high chair, repack breakfast, get his lunch, get my lunch, change him, change me (because a piece of jelly toast had hit my white shirt, of course), and we’re off to Chera’s. 8:15 am. I unload him and the car and realize his milk sippy has leaked all over the place. My passenger seat and my bag are sopping. When this happens with water, fine. Milk, not fine, and it’s ALWAYS milk on mornings like this. I stomp into Chera’s and apologize for him not having had breakfast and am off to work in my sticky car with my sticky stuff.

11 am. Back at Chera’s to pick Ashton up to head to VT for the weekend. Jason is going to a bachelor party and Kathleen and Woody (10 weeks old) and Ashton and I had planned on going home for about two months. But, considering Ashton’s ER visit and breathing problems and cold (he is not quite better and is coughing) we had decided Woody and Ashton should not share a backseat for a 3.5 hour car ride. So that was a real bummer for me – me and Ashton went alone.

The drive up was ok even though Ashton only slept for 30 minutes. There was no real additional trouble until Saturday. He was up at 6:15 am and then his nap was a mere 12 pm – 1:15 pm. Yikes. But off we went to Shelburne Farms to see the baby lambs – me, Ashton, my mom and our dear family friend Patti. Shelburne Farms is such a special place, incredibly beautiful, and I snapped a couple of cute pics.

Afterwards, we went to a cute toy store, filled to the brim with everything you can imagine, and Ashton just started to puke everywhere. Totally out of the blue. Fab. My mom took Ashton outside and Patti and I mopped it all up. Met back at the car, Ashton had a dirty diaper but seemed as good as new. We all commented that it seemed he just had a sour tummy and felt better after getting sick. So we went off to a furniture store to check out their outdoor clearance stuff (I need a set for our deck). Welllll Ashton got sick there too. Another mop-up session while I took Ashton outside. At this point, he was stripped down to his diaper and long sleeve tee, that’s it. His other clothes and shoes were filthy and my poor mom – she was too. Back in the car on the way home … sick again. Pull over, more mopping, more stripping. At home – sick AGAIN. But he seemed to feel better each time and leading up to each incident there was no warning at all – we were all beside ourselves. I ended up calling the pediatrician (“Um, yes hi, this is Ashton’s mom… yes I know we just saw you but this isn’t about his breathing, it’s something else..”) Oy. I put him to bed with no milk and no dinner, poor baby.

Sunday (yesterday) Ashton woke up at the glorious time of 8:30 am, had a big breakfast, and was generally fine except super clingy. He was like a little barnacle all weekend in general and I feel like he never had his paci out of his mouth (which he is getting too old for, but that’s another story for another day). We drove back to Boston, got home around 3 pm, and I just wanted to collapse. Jason had just rolled in from his bachelor party in Sunday River and between the two of us we had the energy of a snail. But no rest for the weary! We had cars and suitcases to unpack, laundry to do, chores chores chores blah blah blah. Ashton was asleep by 7, we were in bed at 10, and I don’t think Ashton, Jason or I moved a muscle until 7 am.

Monday (today) was not an ordinary morning either. Jason had to work at 9 am (and me at 8:30 am) and Chera couldn’t take Ashton until 10:30 am so Uncle Berg, Ashton’s hero, took the bus out to babysit. But we no longer live on the bus line so after carefully coordinating our getting ready schedules, Jason took Ashton for a quick car ride to pick Berg up while I got breakfast ready. (Incidentally, it was Berg who put the “bachelor” in “bachelor party” this past weekend – his wedding is this summer and Ashton is the ring bearer 🙂 ) Luckily, Ashton was in a happy mood and I landed safely at work on time, in unstained clothes.

And a new week is upon us. You see why I feel like I get nothing done! When I do have a free moment, I like to spend it writing ridiculously long blog posts about why I never have free moments.  If you’ve made it this far, I hope this illustration was as long and drawn out to read as it was to write (and to live!) because then I will have made my point 🙂 I love Ashton but boy am I tired!!

p.s. Ashton’s breathing was much improved by Wednesday evening but the pediatrician said if this kind of wheezing episode happens again in the absence of a cold, it is likely asthma. Unfortunately, considering he has allergies and eczema, this could be the case- these conditions are usually a package deal. If he has it, he may or may not grow out of it. To be continued…