Swine Flu in Peoria

I understand the Peoria County Health Department (PCHD) is working under constraints, and by all accounts the clinic at IVC on Monday was well-run and efficient. But I was just out at Woodrow Wilson for today's clinic, and there has GOT to be a better way. A long line of families with small children, many of them fussing and running around (near busy roads), standing in the cold, for an indeterminate amount of time. Surely individuals could go to the health department and sign up for 15-minute appointment blocks (15 shots in 15 minutes or however fast they manage them), or at least hold clinics places the lines can be indoors. An adult standing in line for half of forever is no big deal -- Lord knows I've done it at the Cook County DMV -- but trying to corral little kids in line that long is a nightmare.

We were not able to wait and get me a shot; it was simply too cold for Mini McGee to be out in the cold that long, particularly as I had no idea if it would be 30 minutes or 90 minutes or 3 hours. (Plus I have to teach later.)

Enter the Peas

Last night we introduced peas to Mini McGee. He's been eating rice cereal for about three weeks now because THAT BOY IS CONSTANTLY STARVING. It took him a few tries to figure it out; he thought having the spoon delivered to his mouth was pretty much the funnest game in the world, except that the swallowing took a few "feedings" before he figured it out. Then there was this loud, enormous gulping sound as he accidentally swallowed the rice cereal, and suddenly he is DIVE BOMBING THE SPOON with his mouth to try to eat as fast as he is able to. At first we were playing a game with it -- "Mommy take a bite -- now baby take a bite!" -- so he would mimic us (which he did, opening his mouth whenever we did) but now it's just, "How fast can I shovel food in?" because if you're too slow, he tries to keep attacking the spoon even when there's nothing on it yet.

So anyway, the peas. He gets about a tablespoon of rice cereal once a day and he is clearly still looking for more, so we thought we'd introduce some veggies while he's still thinking food is super-fun. (The current baby food orthodoxy is to introduce veggies first after the rice cereal, on the theory they're less sweet and the baby might reject them if he gets used to sweeter fruits first. But a friend of mine who's a pediatrician said they're moving towards recommending MEAT as the first food for exclusively breast-fed babies because so little iron comes through breast milk that exclusively breast-fed babies, especially those whose parents delay the start of solids, can end up iron deficient. Isn't it amazing the human race managed to raise babies for thousands of years before the Baby-Industrial Complex started telling us all how to do it, with new rules every 10 years? Not that I don't obey my Baby-Industrial Complex overlords; I have the requisite quantities of American parenting guilt that forces me to obey the rules that inform me that if I accidentally introduce carrots only TWO days after the peas instead of THREE days after the peas, THE SKY WILL FALL, but I try to keep a healthy skepticism going at the same time.)

Okay, the peas. So we introduce the peas last night, which smell exactly like peas, which for some reason always surprises me about baby food. (The entire ingredient list is pureed peas and water, I don't know what I was expecting.) Mini McGee has had his rice cereal already, and I break out the peas, and it goes something like this:

"Oooooh, the spoon! DIVE BOMB! Wait -- this isn't rice cereal. This is ... weird. (Swallow. Make frog-like old-man face while pondering flavor of peas.) I'm not sure I -- oooooh, the spoon! DIVE BOMB! Wait -- this is peas again! (Swallow. Make a "beer face" that makes him look like an 18-year-old at a frat party TRYING to act like he's had a drink before and likes beer but having the beer face giving him away.) I'm really not sure about these peas, but -- oooooh, the spoon! DIVE BOMB! ACK! PEAS! PEAS! (Beer face.) Push them out! Push them out! Phew. Good work, tongue! Oooooh, the spoon! DIVE BOMB! ACK! STILL PEAS! Push them out! Push them out! I knew this tongue was here for a reason, good thing I can push out those disgusting -- oooooh, the spoon! DIVE BOMB! NOOOO! PEAS! No, wait, okay, I'll swallow this. (Beer face.) It's not rice cereal, but it's not the end of the -- ooooh, the spoon! DIVE BOMB! Sure, I'll have another bite of peas. (Beer face.) I mean, I am starving to death, so if this is what -- oooooh, the spoon! DIVE BOMB! DAMMIT, WOMAN, WHY DO YOU KEEP PUTTING PEAS ON MY SPOON???"

I probably got half a teaspoon of peas into him total, and almost all of it ended up down his front. Of course, when Daddy fed him the remainder of the peas an hour or so later, he's all, "I love peas!" and grinning and drooling happy green drool and not making a single beer face.

Motherhood Is Getting to Me

I keep putting clothes on inside out. Not just underwear ... not just T-shirts ... but EVEN MY PANTS. In fact, I wore my pants inside out ALL DAY the other day and nobody mentioned it to me. I didn't notice until I went to take them off that night and couldn't get the button and zipper undone, because THEY WERE INSIDE OUT. I guess with the "deconstructed" look in and with my shirt covering the tags, nobody noticed my pants were inside out. And I guess I was so tired when I put them on in the morning that I managed to figure out the inside-out zipper with out actually registering it was inside out.

Doh.

Technomom

My mom, who is now totally hot for Peoria politics, was following last night's board meeting on the PJS feed on Twitter, which raises a totally important question:

My mom knows how to use Twitter??????

In His Own Room

I'm trying to get back to blogging a little more often, but I've been a little busy and distracted.

We put the baby to sleep in his own room last night for the first time, in his crib instead of in the "sidecar" bassinet that he's rapidly outgrowing. He also is responding more and more to us rolling over in bed, etc., which wakes him, so it's time for him to have a quieter sleeping space (where he can go to bed at a nice early hour for babies). It was good -- he slept from 9 p.m. to 3 a.m., ate, and then slept again until about 7:30. Mr. McGee looked more rested this morning than he has in weeks. I heard the baby as soon as he woke up in his room -- I was afraid I might not hear him until he was wailing, but I heard him as soon as he started sleepy-hungry muttering. He went right back to sleep and woke up this morning cheerful and chatting with himself in his crib, and grinned at me when I came in to get him.

So it was good. But it was so sad! I know this is just the first in a long, long line of bittersweet parenting moments, but it was still sad. I kept asking Mr. McGee if I should go get the baby and bring him in, and Mr. McGee kept reassuring me he was fine. I checked on him about six times in the night (which is why I'm not quite so rested as everyone else), which for a worrywart like me is a low number.

I know I'll be glad he's in his own room because I am an extremely light sleeper and with him right next to me, his every wiggle and snorfle wakes me up and I end up exhausted. And now that he's only nursing once in the night most nights, it's easier to put him in the nursery than it would have been when he was up every two hours. But right now I'm sad that my baby doesn't need me quite as much as he did yesterday, and isn't quite as little as he was yesterday.

Shopping List

"Bean-jolly? What is bean-jolly?"

"Beaujolais???"

"... OH! That's a 'u'!"

"Yes. But I kind-of like bean-jolly."

DMV

Went to the DMV. NO LINE AT ALL. Felt this deserved blog commemoration!