Who's that guy with the tuba, then?

Boy Wonder was eating breadsticks on the drive home today.

"Mommy? These are my drumsticks."
Oh, that's nice. Are you playing drums?
"Yes! Because, Mommy? I have a band!"
Hmmm.
"Mommy? It's a PRETEND band."

Maybe you had to be there.

Anyway, then he pretended the breadstick was a pencil, and spent the rest of the drive home asking how to spell my name, Dragon's name, his name, and Baby Boone's name (his syntax was a bit garbled; he was asking, "And what is the start with next letter? D? OK! And what is the start with..."), and then "writing" the names on his knee.

Holy $#!t

I never wanted to be one of those mothers who calls the doctor when her child so much as develops a sniffle. But after today, I'll be rethinking that.

This morning, Baby Boone had an unpleasant crust in the corner of his eye. Now, Boy Wonder just finished up with his course of antibiotic eyedrops, for the same sort of eye grossness, so I said, "Aw, hell. I bet this gets worse." And lo, it was true; by midmorning, his eyes were oozing. I felt rather bad for him - he's been all sniffly since Tuesday or so, and had just developed a cough overnight - and to have an eye infection on top of that seemed grossly (sorry) unfair. But I wasn't particularly worried; sure, he was coughing and sneezing, but he didn't have a fever and seemed in good spirits.

So off we went to the doctor's office, where the doctor said, "Well, he's definitely got a cold. And an eye infection, so we'll get you some eyedrops for that. And...hmm, he's wheezing a little. You know, I usually like to do a chest X-ray the first time a child wheezes, just to check on things."

So off we went to the X-ray department, where Baby Boone's cuteness was much exclaimed over, and all were stunned by the fact that he did not cry when placed in the infant X-ray restraints. And then we went back to the exam room, where the doctor came in to say, "Mrs. Anithe's Lastname, I need to show you something." And I carried Baby Boone into his office, where he pointed out the spot of pneumonia on Baby Boone's right lung.

Pneumonia.

When Boy Wonder had pneumonia, he was ten months old, and he might as well have had an orchestra standing behind him playing the "Your Child Has Pneumonia" Overture.* He was bloody miserable. He was running a high fever. He was having visible trouble breathing. I knew he had pneumonia before we even went in for the X-ray.

I've had pneumonia many a time myself: several times during grade school, a couple of times during high school, and one memorable time during adulthood (I was 22 and didn't have a regular doctor at the time, and I walked around for three weeks feeling miserably short of breath before finally calling an allergy/asthma specialist and saying, "I think I need my medication adjusted." He said, "Um, well, you might. AFTER we treat the pneumonia. Which is in both your lungs, by the way. Take these antibiotics, go home, and don't get up from the couch for at least a week." Ah, reckless youth). And, except for the Reckless Youth incident, it was always quite obvious when I had it, what with fevers and audible wheezing.

But Baby Boone has pneumonia, and I had no idea. I wouldn't even have taken him to the doctor today, except for the eye infection. (Which, incidentally, is now raging. A six-month-old with conjunctivitis is quite a heart-wrenching sight.) So now, I wonder what's in store for us. Every time he gets a cold, will he need to go have an X-ray taken? Will I flinch, remembering how unconcerned I was earlier today, every time he coughs? And, of course, I wonder what would have happened if we hadn't gone to the doctor today. How sick would he have gotten before I knew? I like to think that I'm a reasonably informed patient. I've been told that I am by various medical personnel. But Baby Boone has pneumonia, and I missed it. How informed can I be?

*Not an actual musical composition. But please feel free to give it a try. Be sure to include a piccolo to symbolize the piercing shrieks of an unhappy infant being separated from Mommy, a small, very fast drum to symbolize how babies' hearts beat faster when they have fevers, and a steady trumpet to symbolize the whirr of the nebulizer.

Lost and found

The Christmas before Boy Wonder was born, one of my Christmas gifts was a very nice new cordless phone. We used it enthusiastically for a few months, and then decided to get a cell phone, for the usual reason that couples get a cell phone during the last few months of a pregnancy. We ended up liking the cell phone so much that when it was time to renew our phone contract, we decided to get a cell phone for each of us and drop the land line entirely. The fine new cordless phone went into a box, and a month later we moved from Arizona to Wisconsin. We didn't get a land line hooked up in the new apartment, and so the phone stayed in a box. Now, however, we have decided to have a land line in addition to cell phones, and lately I have devoted some energy to searching for the cordless phone so we can use it. It was not where I expected it to be, and then it wasn't in the other place I expected it to be. Still, I knew it was in a box. Somewhere.

During the last trimester of my pregnancy with Baby Boone, Dragon and I searched frantically for the bag of newborn-sized clothing. We looked in the apartment, in my parents' attic, and in the storage unit. We did not find them anywhere, but I knew they were in a box. Somewhere.

Most recently, the weather turned chilly for a few days, and Dragon was reminded that during winter, he needs to wear an extra layer under his work uniform. So we searched the storage bins and a variety of packing boxes for his thermal undergarments, and we did not find them anywhere. Still, I knew they were in a box. Somewhere.

Last weekend, we finally moved all of our possessions into the new house, and everything from the storage unit went into our basement. And tonight, I decided to go on an expedition. My object: find the cordless phone.

I found the newborn-sized clothing packed away in a box with the Christmas decorations. I am not sure why I put it in there, but I'm sure it seemed like a good idea at the time. Of course, now that Baby Boone is six (!) months old, he's already outgrown it.

I found the thermals, and they were where I expected them to be. Yesterday, while in the basement, I noticed a large tote bag, and opened it to find a large plastic bag; through the top of it, I could see a few polo shirts. This morning, I thought, "Hey! I'll bet Dragon's thermals are in that bag!" And lo, they were.

I found an astonishing variety of tote bags, many of which were crumpled up and shoved into other tote bags. And when I say "astonishing variety," I mean, "at least a dozen, including a rather nice insulated lunch cooler

I found an old purse, which I may wash and kick back into action; my current one is too big and getting overstuffed. (The amount of junk I keep in my purse expands to fill the purse.)

I found all of our cassette tapes, including all of the workout mix tapes I made when I was going to the gym regularly...which was in 2001. Oh, dear.

As for the phone...no luck. The search continues, although quite frankly I have no idea where to look next.

Hey...St. Anthony?

The thin plastic line

The hero approaches the opposing army.



"General Dust Mite? Colonel Green Cup? A word, if you please."



This is not going well for the opposing army.



"Conquering is hard work. Where is my dinner?"



(Before anyone decides to comment on my lax personal grooming habits, those are Dragon's legs in the last photo. Not mine.)

Conversation piece

"Mama! Mama! There's a baby under our coffee table!"

"Hmm. Well, is it Baby Boone?"

"Yes..."

"Well, that's fine then. But if another baby shows up under the coffee table, you let me know right away!"