anna in med school

Ari hung out with an aunt, a grandmother, two great-grandmothers, and one great-great-grandmother this weekend.  She had a blast, albeit not during our attempts to take a five-generation photo.  Bloopers below:

Question: how do women with multiple children and no access to help survive sick days?

John and I concluded that I had/sorta still have the flu.  It sucked.  At one point I literally ripped the babe off my nipple, tossed her (gently but urgently) onto the couch, just in time for me vomit onto the living room floor.  I am thankful for the following:

1. Eric and Caleb: friends who came to my rescue on no notice, armed with ginger ale, zofran, beautiful singing voices and patient temperaments.  I stole an entire day of studying from Eric; may the USMLE lords smile upon him on testing day!
   
2. John: ah, love of my life.  He was supposed to spend two nights in Lewes, DE moonlighting at a local ED.  He called in someone to take his last shift and came home a night early to relieve our friends, coax me into taking antipyretics with a hot toddy, and put me and the babe to bed.
3. Aurelia: somehow she must have known that I needed her to be awesomely low maintenance (at least until Eric and Caleb arrived–sorry boys!).
4. Zofran: the antiemetic (anti-vomiting) wonder drug.  It dissolves under your tongue so you don’t even have to swallow.  I would be willing to pay homage at its birth place, the Glaxo’s laboratories in London.
5. Flu shot: Yes, I got it.  No, it doesn’t/can’t protect against all strains.  But, besides protecting against the majority of influenza virus strains, it reduces the severity of the disease, reduces chances of hospitalizations, protects others in the community, and saves lives.  Today a friend told me her infant nephew died of the flu this winter.  Apologies for being preachy, but if you don’t want to get the vaccine for yourself, get it for those who can’t and need you to protect them.

John’s a little bit of a snob.  Having spent five years of his adolescence in Italy, he refuses to say words like “mozzarella” in good ol’ American English, pronouncing it instead, “Moh-tsa-rell-llaaa.”  Be careful when speaking words like “bruschetta” in his presence.  I think it’s ridiculous, considering a good part of our language is derived from latin/romance languages, and you don’t hear everyone speaking as though he’s fresh off the Mediterranean boat.

He’s also a bit of a caricature, and I’m pretty damn good at imitating him.  So when he started talking about JAMA (the Journal of the American Medical Association) and kept pronouncing it as though it rhymed with llama, I had to step in: “Oh, I think I’ll read an article from Jah-Mah while nibbling a bit on my moh-tsa-rel-la.”  Hunh.  It was funnier in the moment.  So he starts laughing, in his twitchy, convulsive, hysterical way, and I get to laughing…then he laughs harder, and I laugh harder.  Finally he squeaks out: “You’re peeing yourself, just a little, right?”

Apparently my stress incontinence post-delivery of an 8 lb 3 oz chunk has created a meter stick for gauging humor.  And I was so good about doing my kegels.

Age: 4 months, 2 days (yesterday)

Length: 25.25 inches (81st percentile)

Weight: 15 lb, 11 oz (60th percentile)

Head Circumference: 16.2 inches (52nd percentile)

What a beefcake.  Look at her busting out of her 6-month clothing:

Since I lost it during her two-month vaccines, John made me wait in the lobby while Ari got her four-month vaccines–apparently being down one shot since Hep B isn’t given at four months makes a world of difference…thanks for sweet white lies, honey.  I could hear her screams from the waiting area, where small children watched curiously as I sobbed underneath the posters about healthy food choices.

A few hours (okay, minutes) later, she was no worse for wear, albeit a bit cranky and sleepy.  An upper respiratory infection on top of things did not help.  It’s a little sad/cute when an infant can’t blow her snotty nose; and the suction thing-y totally traumatizes her.  But the gurgly noise she makes when she giggles is pretty adorable.  Definitely a day to curl up in bed:

Ari with new friends Allie and Paul:

This weekend was my first road trip with Ari…with just Ari.  We went down to Lake Anna, then up to Fairfax to celebrate the bridal showers of two fabulous women in our lives.  My darling daughter who absolutely hates the carseat rose to the occasion; with the exception of the 45 minutes on 495 that I spent with my right arm twisted backward, shoving a bottle into her mouth, she was either peacefully inquisitive or fast asleep.

There was not a shortage of experienced arms willing to take a turn holding Ari.  On the phone with John while pumping in the basement of the lake house  he asked, “So, where’s our girl?”  “Being held by people who are more skilled in this department than we are.”  It felt odd, though…not to have an infant attached.  And I still felt/feel like I’ve lost a bit of my ability to listen, like I’m unable to momentarily reclaim the part of my attention that’s keeping an ear out for my daughter’s squawks.  This is why (one of the reasons why) we’ll have a babysitter for the weddings this summer.

Also, I’m super proud of the gluten-free chocolate raspberry cake Jill and I made.  I ate it at the shower on Saturday…then at 3am when Ari and I were up…and then again for breakfast.  As documented by the picture, I did not make my own raspberry preserves for the cake.  F— that.  $2.95 Trader Joe’s preserves work just fine.

It’s a pretty cool time to be a kid.  Just stumbled across these pictures from right before Christmas…it’s hard to remember Ari being two-month-old sized now that she’s wearing nine-month-old clothes.

Have you heard of Kate Davis?

On Monday night, John and I were dealt a sweet hand.  Erica gave us comp tickets to see the Young People’s Chorus perform at Carnegie Hall with a smattering of other renowned musicians, including Renee Fleming (!!).  She and Dan, her equally generous (and spunky) fiance, offered to hang with the babe.  It’s like the bomb of goodness that kept exploding: $500 comp tickets to see YPC–BAM!!  At Carnegie Hall–Ka-POW!  With Renee Fleming–PSSSHH!  Free babysitting with people we trust–HUZZAH!  (Bombs make sounds like pssshh and huzzah, right?)

The unexpected highlight of the concert was Kate’s performances of her original “Only Growing Old” (on ukulele) and her cute-as-hell cover of the Beatles’ “Got to Get You Into My Life ” (on string bass), both with YPC and the New York Pops.  Holy.  Shit.  The bio in the program described her robust series of competitions won and fellowships (including a full scholarship to the Manhattan School of Music) for her performance on string bass, violin, and piano and for her compositions.  But it didn’t even mention the power of her voice; it’s haunting beauty had us completely enchanted.

And here’s us, stupid giddy:

It’s good to share a first name with a sister-in-law who’s been a member of the Met since 1996.  And to have a kind, thoughtful, and patient friend willing to venture over to the island to spend the afternoon holding Ari’s hand.  And to have an exhibition of works by Matisse, an artist who clearly had small children who delight in bright colors and large shapes in mind.

After we said our goodbyes and were moving toward the parking garage, Ari decided that a walk among the sculptures was the MOST hilarious thing.  She giggled for a solid two minutes, had John and me in tears, and enchanted the otherwise stern security guards  There were many great moments of the weekend; that might have taken the cake!

Looking through all these pictures in a row, I see what a chunk Ari’s become–LOVE my healthy, happy girl!

We barely made it to NYC in time to get snowed in with family.  John got home from his overnight shift shortly before 9 Friday morning, we finally made it out the door at 11am (have not figured out how to travel light with infant yet), stopped by the post office to apply for Ari’s passport (Israel in April!!!), and drove through the Holland Tunnel just as the snow really started accumulate around 2pm.

Above is Ari with Mireille, her oldest cousin, age 7 & 5/6.  Mireille is so fascinated by and completely devoted to her littlest cousin and, whereas before I think she felt slightly apathetic toward our visits, John and my popularity has skyrocketed as a result.

And here is Mireille almost exactly seven years ago…

John and I hired a babysitter a couple weeks ago.  She’s a friend, actually, and the girlfriend of one of my classmates.  She comes for five hours once a week.  She’s creative and kind and down-to-earth and Ari adores her.

We also recently started a weekly Daddy-Ari time.  John will block off a five-hour shift when he’s available to take her.  He schedules it on our google calendar.  It’s really a win-win-win; I know he and Ari love their uninterrupted time together.

And, as proof, he sends me stuff like this:

Needless to say, after five hours of sequestering myself in a coffee shop reviewing metabolic pathways or, let’s face it, just getting some errands done that are 80x easier to do sans infant, I am really ready to come home to these kids!

Isn’t it hilarious how we’ve lost all sense of being self-conscious regarding cutesy, silly talk with our daughter in public?