Today Bowie had to go to the pediatrician for his 5 year check up, which also involved getting shots and tests done so his doctor could fill out this very official looking yellow sheet of paper for the school district.

My first plan of attack when I made the appointment was to stay mum on the subject of shots until the moment of truth, so he wouldn’t get scared and nervous and all of that. But then yesterday during summer preschool circle time, it was announced that a fellow Kindergarten-bound classmate had gotten her shots that very morning, and could everyone please be extra gentle today.

Bowie asked me, “Do I have to get shots too, mom?”

Oh geez.

“Well yes, buddy, actually tomorrow.”

And then he commenced to completely freak out for the rest of the afternoon, through the night, and into this morning.

“I’m NOT getting shots!”

“I’m sorry, but you have to.”

“No I DON’T!”

“Well, then I’m sorry, you won’t be able to go to Kindergarten.”

“Ok, fine, I don’t want to go to Kindergarten anymore!”

Over and over. Lather, rinse, repeat.

This morning, after long talks about bravery and camaraderie (all his friends will also be getting shots) and hugs from mom and permission for Fox to accompany us to the doctor, he finally announced about 3 minutes before we had to walk out the door that, “Ok. I will go.”

He did great while getting his blood pressure taken, and getting measured, and getting poked and prodded. He told her he was nervous about the shots, and they talked a bit about it. Up until this point, I thought there were only 2 shots, but he also needed a TB test, which counts as a shot I suppose. So, he was a bit perturbed that there were three pokes and not two.


She’s like, “Oh, I see here he needs some lab work. He hasn’t had any done since he was a baby so I suppose we should take care of that today too.”


We leave her exam room, and she gives him a book as a special reward, and she tells me to sit in the waiting area and the lab technician will call us back in very soon.

So we go back out and he’s on cloud 9, thinking he’s done. But, I say no, we have to wait, hang on. We read his new book, and then they called us back in. And he asks with a very worried look, “Why are we going in here?”

I sat in the chair and put him in my lap, as she requested I do, and then I whispered, “You need one more shot.”

It was an unexpected poke in an unfamiliar room from an unfamiliar (albeit very friendly and sweet) medical professional and suddenly…he was sobbing on my shoulder. “I don’t want this shot mom, I REALLY don’t want this shot.”

Oh my good HEAVENS was my heart breaking for him. (And also secretly I was loving that he was needing me so much in that moment!) But then, she inserted the needle, he sat back, and even had a LOOK at it (something I’ve never been able to do) and he said, “Well, that didn’t hurt so bad. I guess I was really brave!”

He’s sad and sore, but he went to school today. And it’s all over now.

And my brave boy gets to go to Kindergarten.


Let There Be Carbs

I just returned home from my appointment with the diabetes center at my hospital, and all I can say is HALLELUJA.

The nurse I spoke with was shocked at how much I’d cut back on the carbs. But, I explained, the women’s clinic didn’t offer me much information at all, except to “cut way back” and I wanted to play it safe.

This makes me wonder why hospital policy isn’t that someone from the diabetes center calls you within 48 hours of your diagnosis to just give you a quick run-down of things over the phone, rather than make you wait 10 days in the dark until you can get an appointment. But, I know none of you are part of my hospital’s administration so…end of rant.

She had a lot more info than I found anywhere on the Internet too. She tailored a diet plan for me based on my results and my health (before and during pregnancy), which is so helpful. And she said I can probably afford to have a much more significant amount of carbs than other women. This means bread! Crackers! Pasta! Just keeping it to a reasonable amount, of course.

I treated myself to a tuna sub from Subway for lunch, just to see what numbers came up and: totally normal. So, that slice of pizza I “indulged” in Sunday night? Probably no biggie whatsoever. I can still eat (basically) what I want to. I’m so relieved. I’ll be full for more than a half hour at a time! I won’t be so crabby all the time!

The womp womp news is that I do have to test my blood sugar periodically. FOUR TIMES A DAY at least for this first week. But, our insurance got me a pretty sweet little monitor with “gentle” lancets.

I’ve already tested twice today and it’s not so bad. I’m even typing away with the fingers I’ve tested, no issue whatsoever. I had this image in my head of me having to test like, every hour, and my fingertips would be so sore I couldn’t do anything. Not so. Still a pain to do, and to remember to do, but I only have 11 weeks left. And I actually have to birth this little man. So, you know, I can handle this.

I want to really give a shout out to the fellow moms who gave me so much info on past posts. It really helped me feel better, and I got some much needed firsthand info when I was totally clueless. Thank you thank you thank you!

Preschool Petri Dish

We were warned about preschool. About how a preschool (or any school or daycare, for that matter) can bring down even the healthiest of children (which I thought my little bug was) on a weekly basis. I shrugged it off. My kiddo is uber-healthy! Won’t happen to us!

I never made a single sick visit to our pediatrician, save for the sprained ankle and the Diaper Rash From Hell, until a month ago. Not that he never got sick, he did have a couple of minor colds. Just nothing doctor-worthy.

Then, we started preschool last December. And we all got a cold. (The unspoken part of this warning that failed to occur to me is that, when kiddo gets sick, the whole family gets sick.) Then the holidays came and went, and we spent our New Year’s Day nursing cold #2. A month later, we are all sick again, this time kiddo gets his first ear infection. And now, another month later, we’re all sick again, and he’s got a double ear infection.

So basically we’ve been sick all year.

Here’s to Spring, opening up the windows to air out the house, sending those germs packing. I’m so tired of being sick. I guess I can be grateful for all of our healthy years. But seriously, TIRED of the SICK.

The Pink Stuff

Perhaps a young child being on antibiotics during cold and flu season isn’t exactly newsworthy, but this is the very! first! time! Bowie has ever gotten a prescription, so I was feeling a little…bloggy.

Bowie has been sick off and on since New Year’s Eve, and it all came to a very dramatic head in the past few days, with a 102 fever and coughs so violent that he threw up a little bit. So, we had to get in to see the pediatrician. And I haven’t had to call for a sick appointment, only regular check ups. So, when I talked to the doctor, and she heard his symptoms and asked a little sternly, “You can’t get him in this afternoon?!”, I was a little worried.

Plus, the whole preschool has been sick this week, all the parents frantically asking if other parents can cover their shifts. I went in and worked my shift yesterday without Bowie, just because I knew it was unlikely anyone could cover for us. And all the moms that did manage to make it yesterday were talking about how their kids had just gotten over such ailments as pneumonia, bronchitis, RSV, you name it. GASP.

Thankfully, Bowie’s chest congestion was deemed “mild” by the doc, likely leftover from the first cold at the beginning of the month. And she informed me that the other symptoms were all probably from the raging ear infection in his left ear.

I’m thinking, an ear infection? That’s IT? I have to keep reminding myself that an ear infection is still kind of a big deal, still needs the pink antibiotics, especially since we’re set to board an airplane in two weeks. And also, my brother and my husband have childhood tales of bad ear infections and tubes and hearing loss. So. Still important.

But THANK GOODNESS for dodged bullets. Gotta keep my little man hydrated, well-rested and full of vitamin C. And the pink stuff.


At Bowie’s six month check up, I was feeling pretty good about myself because I’d been making my own baby food for the previous month and he was loving it. I followed all of Dr. A’s guidelines about when to start what, and how much milk he should still be drinking.

But, once she saw him without his shirt on, she put her hand up to his chest and I instantly knew what she was looking at: he was really orange. “You’re feeding him too much orange food,” was all she said. I was devastated. Not only because I had turned my baby orange with my cooking, but also because he loved sweet potatoes, carrots and squash and now I was going to have to find something else to give him, something not orange.

We managed. We moved on to things like spinach, corn, broccoli and cauliflower. And eventually he looked less orange to me, but a month later when he was in getting the flu shot he still looked too orange for her taste.

Today I was looking through all the food I have for him in the freezer, and I saw it there. The lonely little bag of sweet potatoes I had made for him. Sometimes his nose still looks orange in pictures, but I said screw it and gave him sweet potatoes for dinner. Afterward I wiped him up thoroughly and joked that we had to “hide the evidence from daddy”. I hope the little bugger appreciated that.