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July 22, 2001
two years ago
three years ago
four years ago

First Regret

10:41 am: Jet played really hard this morning. A lot of it with Dad, as he'd gotten up at 6. He was up twice last night to eat, so I was really tired, and I just let them get up and John fed Jet some of the frozen breast milk instead of me. So I slept in until 8:30 and woke up to pump and shower and found John in the hanging chair reading his paper and Jet in the other chair with a brilliantly colored ad in his hands. He was crinkling it, waving it about, and sucking on parts of it happily. Reading his paper while Dad read his. That was pretty cool.

I just meandered about. John wasn't too hungry, so he just cut some cantaloupe for breakfast. I had a fried egg and two blueberry muffins and a big glass of milk as well. I definitely eat more while Jet's nursing. I am going to have to change those habits when he does stop. I've been debating weaning him, a feeding at a time, perhaps. Thing is that I wonder if I'll be able to provide much milk at all if he only nurses two or three times a day; but I guess it's better than eight a day, timewise.

Jet played while sitting in the end of his bassinet for quite some time, too. He looked a little bit like he was sitting in a bathtub, which was pretty funny. But he had good back support, and he had fun being able to reach his toys by just leaning forward a bit. He even figured out how to right himself after he'd done a face-plant into his alligator or his small Whoozit. I was very impressed when he sat himself back up after diving after his Whoozit.

Jet got pretty tired after playing pretty much continuously from 6:30 to 10:05 with stops for snacks from bottles. I nursed him when he was squawking for food and he fell asleep while nursing. So I put him down for his nap.

John's cleaning stuff up outside. This is one of those times when I suddenly realize that I don't have anything I *want* to do, as in I haven't, for the last few months, had any time for anything but Jet and work. And now I have what is probably an hour's worth of free time to do something in and I don't have any idea what it is that I want to do. I could play the second half of my Final Fantasy IV game, but I'm not at all sure I was doing it for any good reason.

Than again, it might be fun.

There was once a time when I wanted to write. Now I have no idea what I wanted to write about anymore. I had a lot of negative comments about present day breastfeeding guides, but then I read the Avent one and found one that was actually practical. So I don't really need to write that anymore.

I really don't need to cook while it's already 93 degrees outside. It just seems really wrong to pump heat into the house while I'm running the air conditioning to keep it cool inside. Maybe I'll work...


11:38 am: Well, okay, I didn't work. I got the recipe for the pot roast off line, instead, and then watered the plants and did the breakfast dishes and some laundry. Then I heard Jet yelling, so I picked him up, checked his still very dry diaper, and he still seemed really crabby and tired, so I just put him back down on the bed and lay down next to him. After fussing the entire time he'd been up, he just smiled at me and then closed his eyes and went back to sleep.

Maybe *this* is the trick to those two hour long naps.


5:08 pm: So I've now had my first regret as a parent. At breakfast Jet was really liking sitting up and playing with his toys, so I put him, sitting, at one end of his bassinet. The curve of the end of the basket was perfect, it gave him back support when he leaned back. When he leaned to either side, he could catch the rails on either side and pull himself back up and it had enough space for his alligator, Whoozit, and a new Pooh chime ball that chimed every time he moved it.

The toys didn't get away from him and he couldn't drop them to either side of him without him being able to pick them up again. So he loved it. He played in there for a good half hour in the morning, another half hour after his nap, and then I had him in there while John was finishing with a couple weeks of pictures and I started Alton Brown's Chuck for Chuck pot roast.

John had wiggled the whole setup to test if it was stable, since the bassinet is on a plastic base with four legs. The whole thing wiggled some, and jiggled with Jet's motions, but even with a good shake on John's part with Jet in the end it seemed safe enough. Not perfect, but solid enough that Jet couldn't knock it over as short as he is. I was thinking that since there was no chance of him getting up at all it would be safe enough.

Both of us were wrong.

Somehow, while I was cutting onions, Jet managed to tip the whole thing backwards and the only thing I knew was when the bassinet hit the wood floor. Then there was this thunk of the back of Jet's head hitting the floor and then he started crying.

It was horrifying.

I scooped him up a second after he hit, and from upstairs, John practically fell down the stairs and was there nearly as quickly as I was. Jet wailed and kicked and cried in my arms, and if I'd really thought, I should have let him lie if he'd had a neck or spine injury.

It seemed nearly impossible, but there wasn't even a small bump on the back of Jet's head. Not a bruise or bump or anything swelling. He was holding his head up just fine, looking around as he was crying, and he flailed all his limbs in his upset. When I really thought about it, the flash in my brain of when I heard the bassinet hit I actually think Jet had reacted to falling backwards by curling forward. So when it actually hit the floor, he landed on his butt, but since his legs were against the floor of the bassinet, that tipped him back and he only banged his head when he'd fallen backwards from where his butt was planted on the floor.

A head bump, sure, but only about as bad as if he'd fallen backwards while sitting. At least that's what I think happened and is the only way to explain not even the least bruise or bump. I can't be sure, though, and from that height, there's some part of my brain that kept saying he could have killed himself.

When I was holding Jet while he was crying from the fright, he suddenly started nuzzling me to nurse. Both John and I gave a small sign of relief. I put Jet on to nurse, for comfort, I'm sure, as much as sustenance, and he sighed, wiggled in close and settled in for a nice, long feed. Both John and I read up on concussions then, and concluded that it wasn't likely. Both eyes were dilated the same amount and contracted the same in light. We'd watch for dizziness, confusion, throwing up two hours later, and bleeding through the nose, though. Then he had a short, fifteen minute, nap.

He woke up happy. Jet was smiling, wiggling, and wanted to play. He had full control of his head, and when I changed him he grabbed his foot to suck on it. He had his head at all the strange angles he puts it when he's straining to see something, and he didn't seem to have strained anything in his shoulders or neck. This is where all that time with Fezzik really paid off, there are countless clues as to pain even when someone can't talk, and Jet wasn't showing any of them. He was in a great mood, a little tired from all the crying, but happy.

He also needed a little more comfort, as when he ate at 4, he just wanted to stay on continually and nestled in as long as he could. So I let him, and only put him down on our bed for a nap when it had been an hour. I probably needed the comforting, too. It had been really frightening, and it was good to just be able to hold him and listen to him breath and be able to hug him against all the irrational fears. At the two hour mark he was just fine.

In the meantime, I'd put together the 'pot roast' in its foil packet, and instead of roasting it in the house, I put it out on the grill. I fired up one burner as low as it could go, and put the packet on the other side. I put my thermometer probe on top of the packet and checked it every half hour. It was a little higher than the recommended temperature, but it was a bit over boiling, which I wanted because I'd really messed with the recipe.

I'd added potatoes, carrots, and celery as well as the onions and garlic. The rest I kept mostly the same, but I knew that I'd need a bit more of a temperature for the potatoes to cook. My packet was significantly larger than Alton's. We'll see how it comes out.

Jet only slept fifteen minutes after the 5 o'clock feeding, was quiet while being changed and played pretty quietly. Tired boy. He talked a bit, kind of low, just commenting quietly on things. He was doing just fine. The bassinet basket is now on the floor, safe, and he enjoys it as much as he did before. I'm so glad his memory isn't quite that good, yet.

John pulled something in his mad rush down the stairs, so he's been limping about. He's not complaining, and it'll probably be okay. I also sliced open a finger on the heavy duty aluminum foil while sealing the packet, so we've had our three bad things in a row again. I hope that's all there is to it today.


8:19 pm: I had to resort to a pot for the pot roast. Oh, the indignity. The grill idea might have worked, maybe, if I'd a) turned the aluminum package every time I checked the temperature and b) if I'd had another two or three hours. I forgot that the high altitude means that braises take a whole lot longer, not just a little longer. The lower temperature of the simmering braising liquid just really messes with the timing on when meats actually get tender. And the potatoes were raw after three hours of cooking.

I hadn't expected that.

I stuck it all into a pot and set it to simmer while we fed Jet some bananas and then went upstairs to do pictures. There are a lot more to go through, and we sat and went through them. Jet got steadily more and more irritable. I fed him and he was okay with that for a little while, and then he got angrier and more upset and finally he started pulling his hair.

He does that when frustrated, and this time I thought that it might be that his head hurt from his early mishap. But when I brought him downstairs and put him on the couch so that I could get the Tylenol, he started smiling and laughing and wiggling. It was not his head.

It was the same thing that happened at all the parties in Seattle. He'd only take so much holding and then he had to wiggle on his own for a while. John put him in his exer-saucer, and Jet turned his back to us and played away happily. He refused to look at us, no matter what we said, and would frown at us when we tried to get in front of him. He just wanted to play by himself for a while. That was it. He was pretty much tired of being coddled and hovered over because of the spill.

That reassured me more than anything.

John laughed and said Jet had to have gotten the need to be on his own from me. He's likely right.

So we were able to eat dinner while he played in his saucer. I'd had to cook the whole mass another hour before the potatoes even got close to being cooked. They were just barely cooked when I finally pulled them and some of the meat, vegetables and sauce out. It smelled wonderful, even with all the changes I'd made, it was really tasty.

Jet was grumpy for part of the evening, half an hour before his last feeding, and we both assumed it was because he was hungry. John bounced him and played with him and tried to get him to stop being grumpy for fifteen minutes of the half hour, and then I took him while he was protesting and yelling. I put him up on my shoulder and he burped up bananas, and then was perfectly content.

We played peekaboo with a blanket while he wriggled and laughed and played. That was pretty cool, and my fifteen minutes passed pretty quickly.

It's amazing how little burp-up means anymore, so far as an irritant. Sometimes I think that that is what being a parent means, finding something that seems to be a limit and then getting punched to a new level and finding that ones limits are far more out there than one would have thought.

John's knee was starting to stiffen up, so I found my stick-to-itself bandage and he wrapped an ice pack around his knee with the wrap while I fed Jet. I also got up to heat the bottle for him and changed Jet before the bottle to wake him up a little for it. That worked a little too well, and Jet wanted more after his bottle of breastmilk. So I made him another two ounces and had to open another can of formula. We're going through an entire can in about a month, so that's good, as that's supposed to be how long they last.

I emptied the container we send off with Jet when he goes to Joan's and washed it. I'll fill it tomorrow. I opened the cut back up washing dishes and then letting my skin dry in the open air. When will I learn? I'll just have to stick another Band-Aid on it for tonight. I don't have to wash anything anymore, thank goodness, if I don't pump.

John's cool and he took Jet upstairs even on his knee, and put him to sleep. It took a little while, but then Jet was fast asleep.

We're both exhausted after this very strange day. I'm glad there will be a tomorrow, and that while I do have something to regret, it's not something that I'll mourn.

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