Tuesday, May 20, 2014

An Update on our Punks

Micah just made the announcement that he needs to go poop, so I wager I've got a solid 13.4 minutes to sit down and write before I hear hollering from the bathroom and I need to go see exactly how much of the toilet paper he managed to waste in a single sitting.

When last my sleep-deprived self sat down at the keys, I chattered away about the mysterious pains Isaiah was experiencing and how it landed him in the ER only to experience a very expensive normal X-Ray followed by a visit to the clinic where my co-pay purchased the ever helpful advice of something along the lines of "wait and see if he gets better and bring him back if he doesn't."

I tell you what, I do not envy medical professionals.  The frustration I felt after being awake night after night with that kid was only exacerbated by the lack of answers I was getting about the cause of his pain.  Of course I understand that if any of the lovely folks with RN, MD, or another such acronym behind their name could have given me an answer, I am sure they would have presented it happily.  I can only imagine how it must feel to have to fight off the threat of internalizing the frustrations of patients and their loved ones when answers and cures are hard to come by.

Burning daylight here, Sarah.  That kid is has likely tossed Batman down the toilet by now so you'd better get a move on.

Anyway, thank you for all your comments and prayers for Isaiah.  Thankfully after about a week or so of his troubling symptoms, they gradually went away all on their own and he was back to his normal self!  The bad news is that Micah decided to pick up that torch and carry it for a few nights, awaking in the wee hours seeking snuggles and complaining of a tummy ache.  He did that for about 3 nights and I'm still not entirely sure if it was legitimate or just a ploy to attain some of the attention his brother had been receiving for the last week.  Following right on the heels of middle brother's shenanigans, Thomas started producing the most vile diapers I have seen in a long time multiple times a day for about three or four days straight.  He didn't seem out of sorts otherwise, but his lethal diapers told an entirely different story.  Just ask our poor 15 year old babysitter - he unleashed the beast on her and it was all she could do to get through it without gagging.

All I know is that my boys are back to sleeping normally and bellies are behaving once again.  We still don't really know the cause of all this hoopla, but I'm just choosing to celebrate the multiple consecutive full nights of sleep I've achieved!  I swear, it was starting to feel like I had a newborn all over again, which was just one more reassurance that we are so very much DONE having babies.  :)

I am so much easier to be around when I've slept.

We have also recently started to introduce Thomas to his own Teach Me Time alarm clock, the secret weapon that allowed us to keep both his older brothers in their beds until 7:05 each and every morning.  It glows a warm yellow through the night and then changes to a bright green at whatever time you set it to, signalling to the kid that it's ok for them to get up.  Once Thomas perfected the art of climbing out of his crib, we was waltzing into our room at 5:45 am and silently stealing the iPad while we slept.  We would wake up a couple moments later to the sound of Endless Alphabet or the theme song to Curious George.  Since he was getting up so early, the boy was a hot mess by lunch time and would often wind up like this before we were anywhere close to naptime.  

So we got him his own special clock.  He has learned the concept quickly.  Yellow means "Stay in bed."  Green means "GO!!!!"  Ask him to explain this and he will nail it perfectly.  Too bad he doesn't give a flying fart about the rules and continues to come out of his room at 6 am and then scream bloody murder when we tell him to get his butt back in there until the clock is green.  "No Green!  No Green!" he bellows before stomping back to his room and slamming the door, making it very clear what he thinks of us and our stupid clock.

It's almost like he's the third child or something.

What really pisses him off is when he walks out of his room and into his big brothers' only to have Isaiah walk him back across the hall and scold, "No Thomas.  You can't come out until the clock is green."

Hilarious.  No way that little punk is going to strike up an alliance with his rule-following, type A, by-the-book oldest brother.  Not gonna happen.  

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