|but it's still snowing, we better take shelter.|
Today was a snow day for the government and pretty much everyone in DC/MD/VA. At lunch time Kraemer took Calder to the neighborhood hardware store in our hiking pack, bundled up and sheltered by an umbrella. They were predicting between 4-8 inches, which we easily accomplished. I heard we got 9. Calder enjoys getting out of the house any way he can, but his face was still icy by the time they returned from their mission. We are all simply itching for spring.
Calder had yesterday what I am hoping is his last Synagis shot. Synagis does not prevent infection but has the potential to make RSV infections less severe in high-risk infants. As I’ve said before, the cost is astronomical, and insurance is picky about who they authorize to receive it, but Calder qualifies. I’m grateful for it (and more so for the fact that we haven’t had to deal with RSV yet, knock on wood), yet taking him to these appointments is excruciating. He is smart enough to know what’s coming and claws your shoulders, hanging on for dear life so that you cannot put him on the scale (dosage is according to weight.) Poor sweet thing. Then I have to hold him and his hands down while two nurses each inject a vial into each thigh simultaneously. Excruciating. Last year the season was a long one so he still got a shot in April – I’m hoping we get to call it quits this month instead.
|in fact, let's get outta here.|
|guys, i'm serious!!! (we left)|
Calder learned to sign “please” a couple months ago and now thinks that works for everything. “What would you like, Calder?” “Please!” He understands nearly everything I say to him, even before I expect him to understand it. Last week I was saying, more out of habit than anything else, as I do always try to narrate my actions for him, “Now we have to get your bib,” and instead of standing while I retrieved it, he scurried off to open the drawer, pull out a bib and hand it over to me. Our nanny speaks to him absolutely nonstop, nearly all of it in Spanish, so his providers have been surprised at his Spanish comprehension as well. He’s going to be bilingual and I’ll have no clue what he’s saying once he starts spouting words. His current project is learning how to clip himself into and out of his booster seat at the table; I’m happy to teach him how to snap in but not so much how to snap out. His mind works a mile a minute, and Kraemer and I enjoy just watching him go; he’s our entertainment. Sometimes I feel like a kid at the zoo watching a monkey.
|sporting Mom's sweater,|
handknit by great-Gram, circa early 1980s!
embracing his feminine side.
Re: my pregnancy, just like that, everything seemed fine and dandy again! At my next appointment, Dr M seemed far less concerned – perhaps it was because my cervical length was 3.7, which is just fine compared to when you really start to worry, knock on wood. (Since then, I had another measurement the next week of 4.19, even better.) He did not seem at all phased to learn we were going to pass on the surgery. That said, he maintained that I needed to telework, although concluded that if I wanted to negotiate with my supervisor to go once a week, that should be fine. The idea is to stay off my feet as much as possible and keep gravity from working against me. Overall, he told me that in terms of restricted movement, I needed to just take it easy and, when I asked about specific activities (like picking up Calder) use my best judgment. Interestingly, he told me his goal was to get me to 30 weeks, which caught me off guard as, hey, dude. My goal is 40!
|already breaking the [piggy] bank|