A little shampoo is a dangerous thing

Sorry about the post fast. This little tidbit of benign parental sadism should tide you over until I finish reading Brideshead Revisited for book group.

Another earful

My poor little bambina has another ear infection. I have been concerned about ongoing fluid in her ears since December. Her last infection resolved quickly, but a tympanogram in mid-December showed that she still had some fluid: it wasn't flat, but it was more foothill than Mt. Everest. The audiologist said it was probably residual from the ear infection and to postpone her audiology exam for a month. Two weeks ago, Yelena and I visited Ari and he had his audiologist check her out. She passed the hearing screening, but her tympanogram was still not spiky and Ari said she did have fluid in her ears. I was just going to bring it up at her 18 month check-up but Monday night she woke up crabby and, when I was cuddling her, she kept digging her thumb around in her ear. She's doing better now, but am sick of all this fluid and made an appointment with an ENT doctor for when she's completed this course of antibiotic and am thinking ear tubes to help drain her tiny little ears. She passed the hearing screening, but the fluid could still be dulling her hearing or even affecting her balance. At this point, even if ear tubes were to help only 5-10% it'd be worth it.

Snotty

My least favorite aspect of parenting is aspirating. It's really awful. You know you have to do this invasive procedure, first the saline and then the slurping of snot, so your child can breathe better, avoid festering mucus triggering an ear infection and not wake herself up in the night with a burble of snot -- but it just causes misery. Like vaccinations. They're just too young to understand the nasty needle is nothing compared to tuberculosis. Unlike most kids, Yelena doesn't mind me wipping her nose and even welcomes the warm washcloth, she just wails the second the drops go in her nose and sobs for a few minutes after the lines of goo are sucked out. Today the only thing that distracted her afterwards was going on the bouncy ball while listening the Jimmy Smith's The Cat. Thank God for Jimmy Smith.

Last Wednesday in music class a girl, who must have been making up from another class, was covered in nasal secretions. You know, the lava trickle of technicolor snot running between the crusted crags of booggers all down her face. Because it is just our luck, she seemed to like Yelena and kept waddling up to her. I thought, "Oh shit. We're in for it." Unfortunately, I am clarvoyant and Yelena had a very rough night of it Thursday and has been a bit congested ever since. I, too, have been just a bit out of sorts and now Eli is as well. Nothing dramatic, able to make it through the day and all, just not enough energy to go see the midnight showing of the Buffy musical Saturday night or muster the energy to sit through Die Fledermaus tonight. And last night I was out of it enough that when I was cleaning my Stack splint it fell down the drain. I even took out the sink trap (Super hero ID: Handy Girl. Or, perhaps: Klutz Girl?) but it had already gone to swim with the gators. Ugh.

Sleep now.

Music Together

Finding a music class up to Yelena's parents' exacting standards in this here mega-major city has been more challenging than one might think. When she was about 6 months, we started her at the Suzuki-Orff school. She enjoyed it, it had a good pedagogic foundation and the teacher was very good at engaging the children. Next session, we were reminded of the first precept of education: it's all about the teacher. The new teacher was so terrible -- all fake bubbly and mispronouncing words that rhymed or screwing up the order of words in songs so they no longer rhymed -- that Eli physically couldn't bring himself to go after a few classes. There was also a father in the class whose sense of rhythm and pitch were so abstract, and always fortissimo, that it took all my restraint not to beat him over the head with an egg shaker while Eli strangled him with a scarf. I switched to a weekday. This teacher wasn't annoying, but she seemed to have a perpetual headcold. I have been told on more than one occasion that I sing like a Muppet (in tune, no oomph), but compared to her I am Renee Flemming. Also, I was sick of driving down to West Town.

Next we tried Wiggleworms at Old Town School of Folk Music. It was ok and for the right parent and child I would recommend it, depending on the teacher. Yelena enjoyed it, but I thought the teacher was way too lenient with the parents, allowing them to kibbitz too much and participate too little. The other problem is that when we made up classes with other teachers, they sang totally different songs. At this age, the point of a weekly class is to build some familiarity and routine, not throw the babies for a loop. Wiggleworms doesn't seem to have any system behind it other than to play guitar and have the kids move around -- which is fun, but I like something a little more formal. There were also way too many children in the class and it was always crowded and too chaotic.

I tried to get her into a Kindermusik class, but at two different places they had stopped teaching the 6-18 month class and at a third the weekday class was full for the entire year.

Finally, I decided to check out Music Together. Yelena started at Music Together of Lincoln Square in December and we are both very happy. The teacher is engaging without being fake or irritating and she has a lovely singing voice. One of the things I love is that the class is for all ages under 4; it's a more natural way to learn, operating under the theory that older kids learn from teaching younger ones and the younger ones learn from watching the older ones. (Also helpful if you have more than one little one.) This also works well for Yelena, since she's not the only kid who isn't walking. I'm not sure if she's self-conscious about it, but I get concerned. There is definitely a method, including a book on how to foster musical development, and the course materials included sheet music and a CD which is, surprisingly, one of the least irritating children's CDs I've ever heard. And there are songs in minor keys and time signatures other than 4/4! (There is even a song in 7/8. No, not Sting's.) Each 10 week session, there is a new CD and book, so we should get a pretty decent repertoire in a couple years. The class size is also reasonable, about 5-7 kids, and the other parents are friendly and involved, not like the Trixie horrors at that Gymboree class I checked out.

Half-Yelena-asana, Variation 2

With those funny but less than flattering images below, I thought I'd post another for a more balanced picture, so to speak.

Yelena had her first speech therapy session on Tuesday. (Starting next week, she has OT Mondays, ST Tuesdays, music class Wednesdays, PT Thursdays and swim Fridays. She is the hardest working baby in show biz.) It seemed to go well, but it was a little nebulous since, so far, I pretty much do most of the things with her already that we covered. I did get a few more tips and hopefully will get more. Yelena seemed to like the therapist and enjoy the games. The therapist thinks she'll do well and was impressed by Yelena's absorption in her and everything they did. She said that often children with motor planning problems become disengaged very young, but that Yelena doesn't show any sign of that. Not that I needed vindication, but I am super glad that I practiced my modified attachment parenting style and ignored everyone who told me I was spoiling her or too attentive by engaging her constantly. (Yeah, plopping my baby in front of the TV or ignoring her cues would certainly have helped her brain disorder. Of course, some of those critics probably blamed her lack of mobility on my parenting. Shame on them.) The ST said that she's a huge observer, we just need to get her to be more of a participator.

Teeth, teeth and more teeth

In the past few days, Yelena's two upper molars cut as did her remaining bottom front tooth. The lower right molar is burgeoning under the gum, as it has been for weeks. Ouchie. She's been taking it in stride, although she's gnawing on everything like a puppy. Here she is showing her teeth and snacking on a platypus.

Happy New Year

At our pre-nuptial dinner Dennis, who as far as I am concerned is the Grand Vizier of Cool, said that he was happy I was marrying a cool guy. And Eli, by all outwards appearances, is pretty cool. He plays guitar, looks good in tight shirts and wears groovy glasses. He's also a few years younger than me, which gives his relative (to me) cool factor an extra boost. Ladies and gentlemen, I would like to present to you my very cool husband at 10:30 on New Year's Eve.

Yes, Eli pooped out well before the stroke of midnight, like an 8 year old waiting up for Santa. (An 8 year old yeshiva bucher on Shavuot doesn't have the same ring.) Tony was sick and had to be up to do a radio show at 6 a.m., so I released them at around 11 and spent the transition into 2007 rubbing noses with Cheru and watching Young Frankenstein, which I did not find as funny as when I was 8. The true sign of me teetering on the perch is that I didn't really mind the collective fink out. Eric had made a butternut squash ravioli so divine that I will never be able to eat anyone else's and I made ice cream out of Vosges candy bars, so a kiss at midnight would have paled in comparison. I wouldn't have minded another few rounds of cards and some champers, though.