This Metatarsal
Eldest Only Child


I mentioned to Steve much of what I told you about Celexa and he nodded and said, yes, yes, true, true, much better, now with 1000% less get-a-grip but... did you also mention the narcolepsy?

So in the spirit of unvarnished disclosure: for the past month or two I have been noticing what might be considered a side effect. Namely, I start to read stories to Caroline and Edward after lunch but we only make it through about three or four books (or half a Curious George) before my eyes roll back into my head and my last conscious thought is of reaching for the remote control. Thus Steve frequently finds me sound asleep under the pages of Chicka Chicka Boom Boom, while Caroline and Edward sit on top of me watching Wonderpets. Since my inability to sleep let alone nap harks back into my infancy Steve feels - reasonably - that the Celexa is making me unnaturally sleepy. So be it. Nothing is perfect and when Edward fell and bit through his lip today I was a beacon of maternal calm due at least in part to Celexa.

That said I do find it inconvenient to pass out for an hour in the middle of the day and I will discuss it with my doctor when I see him next month. I've started running again and I think that plus the vaguely Buddhist recommended therapies plus the fact that the children are getting bigger (I have loved loved loved having newborn/baby/toddler twins but the fact that they seemed so breakable and there were two of them and one is Caroline, frankly, stressed me out) might lead to a Celexa exit strategy. We'll see. 


He was his sunny self again by this afternoon but if you look closely you can see where Edward punctured himself and you do not have to look closely at all to see where he hit his chin. He and Caroline were playing in the basement with Patrick and it was more or less at the exact moment that I loaded the dishwasher and reflected upon how nice it was that the kids are old enough to play without constant supervision that Patrick burst upstairs with the news that Edward was hurt. I was able to gauge the severity of the injury less by Edward's shrieks (Edward always sounds like that) than by the fact that having delivered the news Patrick promptly flung a banket over his head.

Edward and I met on the basement stairs and he was bleeding all over the place.

"I bumped my yip," he sobbed "and I am beeding ah ovah the pace."

I gave him a cold, wet cloth and a kiss and some tylenol and decided to take him to the doctor after Steve looked at the oozing lip and shrugged eloquently. Since this is not my first rodeo I packed a bag suitable not only for the pediatrician's office but also for the emergency room. So far only at about 25% of our urgent care visits turn into hospital trips but still... one in four. When I took Caroline into the doctor for her mouth/chin gash we waited for an hour for the walk-in doctor only to be told that they send facial cuts to Childrens' to be stitched. Then we had to drive and wait all over again and the six books I had brought for the lobby were no longer meeting her needs. So this time I was ready.

After he stopped crying Edward realized he quite liked the attention he was getting, which either says "twin" or "youngest" or "hypochondriac." He was very chatty at the pediatrician, telling first the receptionist and then the nurse, "I bumped my yip." When we got into the exam room he stood on the chair in order to see himself in the mirror and then tried different expressions (The Waif, The Urchin, The Orphan) to highlight his pitifulness. 

When the nurse asked how it happened he said, as if surprised by the obviousness of the question, "I bumped it when I falled."

This reminded me of my old friend Pete who jumped from a third story window when his new roommates set the house on fire. They were freebasing in the oven, just in case you were wondering how that happened, and if you were wondering why Pete moved into this den of iniquity it is because he had been crashing in my four room apartment for three weeks and I finally told him he simply must find a new place to live. And yes it has been twenty years and yes I still feel guilty about it.

Pete, who had broken half the bones in his body, was conscious when he got to the emergency room so the nurse gave him forms to fill out. When he was asked whether the given address was his current address he wrote "not anymore" and when asked to describe the cause of his injuries he said "not the fall. the ground." Pete was always very droll.

Where was I? Oh right. I was telling you about how Edward explained that it wasn't the fall it was the rapid deceleration into the arm of the chair that bumped his yip.

The doctor studied his mouth for a long time and finally decided that it was better to leave it as it is. She did not think they could get the edges much closer with stitches and she thought he would basically eat off any dermabond so she told me to watch out for infection and sent us on our way.

I saw our usual doctor in the hallway and he came over to ask how Patrick is doing. I told him that Patrick had another episode on Saturday (oh by the way - Patrick had another headache/vomit/fall asleep thing on Saturday) and that we were seeing the ENT next week for a CT scan. He said good and that we should bring him into the clinic again too.

Speaking of Saturday, last week I sent out an email to all the neighbors we know with kids about the same age as ours and said that we were going to be hanging out at our house after dinner on Saturday and they were welcome to bring a bottle of wine and their kids and come join us until bedtime. This was a new form of entertaining for me (wildly half-assed and exponentially liberating) and it was surprisingly fun. We had five or six couples and about a dozen children and I made crab dip and "cookies" (Jane Brody recipe - combines rolled oats and wheat flour with a little egg white, a sprinkle of sugar and few chocolate chips; I figured it was harmless enough for kids at that hour) and that was it. The kids ran around like maniacs, the adults drank wine and watched basketball and when the little kids went home/to sleep we put on a movie for Patrick and his particular friends and continued with the wine and the watching. Or we would have if Patrick hadn't appeared suddenly at my side and announced that he had a headache and needed to go to bed with a bucket right that second. Within five minutes he had vomited, taken some ibuprofen and fallen into a profound sleep in the center of our bed. By morning he was fine again. I continue to be mystified. He had gone to tumbling that day but it was hours earlier so... I don't know. I really don't know what is going on with him and I am anxious to get back to the ENT so we can either diagnose or rule out some more things.

Ah yes. Basketball. Some of you mentioned your surprise that I made it all the way through the month without mentioning the High Holy Days of March. Nerts, I say. First our entire clan got obliterated in the suicide pool (elimination format; one team per day but you can only pick a team to win once during the entire tournament - it takes careful planning, razor sharp instincts and a certain hoops genius. like I said, all five of us got knocked out by day three.) Then I wallowed at the bottom of the money pool until Sunday when all of the sudden my Kentucky pick wasn't looking so very silly after all. In fact, it looks brilliant except for the fact that our old football pool nemesis (PHIL - you have to hiss it, PHIL) also has Kentucky picked and he has more points that I do so there is no way I can win even if Kentucky does. So... VC-who? VCU! Woot.    


I was so touched by Caroline's obvious concern for Edward until she explained that she was crying because she wanted to go to the doctor and get a sticker toooooooooooo. It was all very Madeline.

PS The comforter that allows Steve to play Inuit while I stay sensibly warmed is made by Cuddledown and is from their Dual Warmth line. We got the cheapest option as I recall and it is still very soft and nice and everything. Link here.

PPS Book time!

Patrick and I got lost in the Chrestomanci series. Not, I hasten to say, because of the books themselves but because of our limited access to them in an audio version. We wound up with The Lives of Christopher Chant on cassette, which I cannot play in the car. I tried bringing a forty year old boom box with us as we drove to school but 1) Patrick could barely hear it and 2) it goes through 8 C batteries in, like, twelve minutes. I finally checked the book out for him today and I expect he will simply read the rest of the series. So we need something else to listen to. Is The Hunger Games too much for him do you think? Is Fablehaven worth listening to?

Also, Caroline and Edward have developed a passion for... it's hard to explain but it is a fictionalized account of one of Vivaldi's violin students arriving at the orphanage and it appears at the end of one of their Vivaldi CDs. Edward has a screamy passion for Vivaldi (BiBALdi.) Four Seasons. Fall. Allegro. and Caroline likes most of Winter and the presto part of Summer so that is all we ever listen to in the car. As you can imagine this was getting a bit old (I'm not so into classical and although I guess Vivaldi is fine he's not, like, Mads Langer or anything) so at first I was pleased when they started asking for the Vivaldi story part over and over again. Now, however, however it is driving me to the brink of madness.

We must find something new but what books are there that I can listen to with Caroline and Edward? I tried Stuart Little today and it started well enough but by chapter three Caroline's polite "Bibaldi please" had turned into a shrill "I don't LIKE Stuart! I don't LIKE him! I want that little two inch mouse to go right back down that drain."

So any audiobook recommendations for Patrick or Caroline/Edward or (with summer car trips fast approaching) a trifecta of Patrick/Caroline/Edward appropriateness? 

PPS I am debating a summer return to speech therapy for Edward. I truly cannot decide if his lack of L's and gummy R's and slipshod THs and SHs and CHs are age-appropriate. My instinct is that his speech is getting markedly clearer without any outside assistance and no one else (like his preschool teachers) has mentioned it so I might just be seeing him to his disadvantage through crystalline Caroline. Or maybe he needs a little more therapy. Can't decide.