Adventures in Ellison

When I was young, I imagined being a big, important doctor at a big, important hospital. I did not dream about being a mommy. But I am one now, which is a good thing. It gives me a whole new world of blog fodder. Like this one.

Earlier this week Nick got home just a few minutes after me. I'm standing in the kitchen, holding Archer and getting dinner started. Nick is down the hall in our room changing out of his work clothes. Ellison is dragging one of her little kid chairs from the playroom toward her room. She often does this when she wants to reach something high up.

E: I nee my stew. [I need my stool.]
Me: Why do you need your stool, sweet pea?

Visions of her reaching for something on top her dresser and it subsequently toppling over on her fill my mind. Chaos and major loss of parenting points ensue. So I look up. Ellison is naked. So I chase her down the hall. She's on the chair, reaching for the top drawer.

E: I nee new diepuh. [I need a new diaper.]
Me: Yes, you surely do. [I reach toward the drawer for her.] Wait a minute... what is on your bottom? Is that poo?! Oh my gosh that's poo!

I get her onto the ground and start wiping her baby bottom. Then, just like they taught me in med school, I begin to cry for help.

Me: Nick! We've got poo! I need you to find the poo!
N: Huh?
Me: She pooed! I just saw her walking around with poo!
N: Well where is it?
Me: I DON'T KNOW! I need you to find it.
N: Is it in her little toilet?
Me: I DON'T KNOW! You have to look for it! I need you to locate and isolate the poo!
N: Hmm, not in her toilet. And this diaper is empty. And I don't see any poo anywhere. Hey, Elle, where did you put your poopee?
E: In dare. [In there.]
N: But where? Can you show me?
E: [prancing into the hall bathroom] In dare! [points at toilet]
N: No, that's not possible.
Me: Well, she can climb on and off the toilet by herself now.
N: OK, let's see. Well, huh. Look at that.
[We both stare down into the toilet, then exchange a look of awe and wonder.]
Me: Elle, you did it! You put your poopee in the potty!
Nick: Did you do that? All by yourself?
[She beams a full-face baby smile up at us and nods.]
E: I get chockit chep? [Do I get a chocolate chip?]
Me: Baby girl, for that you get a whole handful of chocolate chips!

And there was much rejoicing. And dancing the happy potty dance.

The end.

My Tuesday: a prospective, longitudinal, observational study

I know it's Wednesday, but I didn't have time to post this yesterday. Sorry.

What's in my purse:
1) a stethoscope
2) a bottle of 2% lidocaine
3) MakeUpForever lipstick*
4) baby washcloth (clean)
5) the Humira drug rep's business card
6) a plastic spoon

What Amazon.com suggests for me today:
1) Yes! (Jason Mraz)
2) Drink and Wet baby doll
3) Ficciones (Jorge Luis Borges)
4) Enfamil Newborn Formula
5) Jedi dressing gown (you've got to see this one to believe it)

What's on my docket:
1) 2 news and 2 olds**
2) making shepherd's pie
3) running 3 miles, hopefully without stopping
4) debating whether to eat or toss the failed salted caramel blondies***
5) visiting Jen and Chile and their brand new bebes

*I finally tossed the Dior0
**Hopefully this will be a real half day and not the fake half day I usually end up doing on Wednesday. Unless you count finishing patients at 3:00 pm as a half day. I don't.
***This will likely entail me eating half the pan in the name of taste-testing to decide if they're worth trying to tinker with and make again. The answer is no. I already have a blondie recipe I like, and I could easily just make it with a caramel swirl. But it's way more fun to keep taking little nibbles of ooey-gooey mess this new recipe turned out to be.

A day late and a nickel short

Well, yesterday was Father's Day. Elle and I made Nick cookies, and Archer and I (by which I really mean just "I") bought him the tool belt he's been asking for. Other than that, it was the average Sunday with laundry and chores and whatnot. But then I checked FB on my phone last night, and everyone else was posting about how wonderful their dads and their husbands (as dads) are. And I got social media-induced guilt. So here, in a cyber-nutshell, is an ode to 1) my dad 2) Nick, who is not my dad.

My father...
Taught me that no work is ever below you. The best doctors were once janitors.
Showed me by his example that anything worth doing is worth doing well, by which we mean better than everybody else.
Never told me math was hard or that I shouldn't like science. Or that I had to like it, which is probably why I do like it.
Let me think he was letting me do things and learn them on my own.
Never played golf on the weekend. We watched Godzilla marathons together instead.
Was never surprised (like I was) when I succeeded because he always knew I'd do well.
Told me I was just like him and that my smart mouth would get me in trouble one day. I didn't believe him then, but I should have.
Liked Nick right off the bat.
Gave me a lot of good advice that I ignored at the time because I knew everything, and I'll say the same things to Ellison and Archer even though I know they'll do the same.
Would have kept telling me I should have been a dermatologist but would secretly have been very proud that I chose rheum, just like him.
Would have adored Ellison and Archer and spoiled them oh so rotten. But stories and old photos will just have to do.

Nick...
Makes our babies laugh like nobody else.
Means it when he says something. Good or bad.
Has eaten the same thing for breakfast and lunch every day for years now, which gives me hope that he won't get tired of me, either.
Has as much trouble as I do saying the words "daughter", "son", and "children" because they make him sound like a dad dad.
Is going grey like Brett Favre, just like I asked him to do a long time ago.
Sings silly songs to Elle in the bathtub and thinks I can't hear him.
Falls asleep on the couch with Archer on his chest, and it's heart-meltingly cute.
Keeps track of the money so I don't have to.
May not be allowed to talk to Elle between the ages of 13-19 because he will only aggravate the situation.
Can tell when I (or Ellison) is on an emotional ledge and somehow pulls tenderness out of his man's man heart just when we need it.
Does his best every single day to make me happy, even if it's only so he won't have to feel guilty spending time watching Supernatural or playing Xbox.

The daily report

Here's a little peek into my average Tuesday.

What's in my purse today:

1) blood pressure cuff

2) bib (unclear if clean or used)

3) almost-empty Dior lipstick in Rock Star

4) brand new Makeup Forever lipstick in 34

5) Tide pen

6) empty water bottle

7) Marshall's receipt (for the purse it's inside)

What Amazon.com suggests for me today:

1) Pampers Swaddlers size 3*

2) Conair hot rollers

3) Garnier eye de-puffer

4) 1 ounce silver coin**

5) Rustoleum water-proofing kit

*Um, what? First of all, we buy Huggies. And furthermore, we buy size 2 and size 4 but not 3. Maybe Amazon is averaging?

**I have no idea. I mean, seriously, no idea.

What's on my docket:

1) 4 for-sure rheumatoids and 1 diagnosis TBD

2) interviewing a housekeeper

3) cooking spaghetti

4) running 3 miles without stopping

5) futile attempt to stay dry while sitting in the splash zone of Ellison's bath

6) fall asleep within 3 minutes of lying down in bed

Wash, rinse, repeat tomorrow.  

Something good

Lots of stuff happens to me every day, much of which isn't worth blogging. Other stuff is way too big to throw out there into cyberspace. And other stuff is totally blog-worthy (and appropriate), but I simply run out of time. Just like I run out of time to put away laundry. Or paint my last 2 toenails. Both of which I'm neglecting to write this, all while Nick is fussing at me from the bedroom to just go to sleep if I'm as tired as I say I am. So I'll keep the second half short and sweet. Unlike the first half.

I used to call Ellison my favorite baby in the world, but we've had to alter that a bit now that Archer has a right to at least half that title. So Elle and I have a little ritual now - in the car on the way to daycare, at the dinner table, in the tub, where ever.

Me: Ellison, you're my favorite little girl...
E: In da werd! [in the world]

Guys, it's just perfect. She points out toward the wild blue yonder and gets this huge smile that scrunches up her whole face. The smile of a little girl who knows she is loved absolutely and unconditionally. And it makes her happy. And now, at the risk of sounding really super cheesey (which somehow seems not as bad when I'm sleep-deprived = almost always these days)...  it's been a real lesson to me about how our Heavenly Father views us.

God: Bethie, you're my favorite little girl...

OK, cheese-tastic moment over. I'm going to bed. Good-night, all.