Fevers, Cough, & Cries---Aka, the Flu

Well, I fear I may be able to soon set my calendar by Maeve's getting sick. Aside from a case of Roseola when she was about six months old, she really never got sick until she hit a year. Then came Hand-Foot-and-Mouth and a month or so later, Croup, a month later some upper respiratory infection and now, here we are. About four weeks later we have ourselves the flu. Yippee! 

Playing peek-a-boo through a dog toy. 

She developed a cough around Sunday night, and a fever that started Monday and peaked at 104.7* last night. I consider myself a fairly competent and confident mama until my child is sick or bleeding. It drives Adam crazy. One time in particular she had hit her mouth on the tile at Target and was bleeding everywhere; the yin to my yang Adam remained calm and called the doctor (oh yeaaaah) while I kept exclaiming "Call one of our MOMS!!" Hey, they're the experts here, I just play one during the day. Anyhow, I took Miss Maeve in today and our suspicions were confirmed, we've got one miserably sick & contagious cutey. She still managed to charm the nurses and doctors, chatting them up while they checked her out. We've been really working on "No, thank you." instead of "NOOOO" followed by a swat. When she didn't want the nurses to look in her ears she kept saying "No tampk you, no tampk you!" while swatting them away. Eh, we're getting there.

 I was proud of myself for some mama creativity when it came to entertaining my wee one while keeping her at rest. (That girl and this mama can only do so many episodes of Sesame Street before we start to go mad.)  Yesterday after a particularly messy and unsuccessful lunch Maeve was covered in all manners of food and I was already praying for 5:30 to come at light speed. I stripped her down and enticed her up the stairs with promises of one of her favorites- a "bathff!" Once I got her in though, it occurred to me I could really stretch the time out by letting her enjoy the finger paints she got in her stocking, using the tub as a play-pen of sorts. I grabbed the paints out of our craft closet, squirted little primary colored piles around her toes and taped several pieces of paint-worthy paper against the side of the tub. 

It-was-magic! 

This kept her occupied FOREVER! I am so proud (perhaps too much so) to say this was not even a pinterest tip, and I will totally be using it again and again. When we (read, 'mama') were all done painting I simply peeled the tape off and stuck the paintings to the back of the door to dry, ran some water and wiped the tub down. Then, as promised, Maeve also got a long, cool, bath to drop her temperature that had creeped back up as we played. Which was good, because she covered herself pretty well in reds, blues and greens while playing finger-paint Picasso. 

Laughing at Dutchess trying to drink bath water. 

Where's Maeve?

Peek-a-Boo! Look at those sick little eyes. Poor, sweet baby! 

A Little Bit of Mama Mourning

Yesterday was (in theory, if I can hold strong) the last day I will nurse Maeve. And as ready as I am to have myself to myself, if I think about it for more than a second I find a catch in my throat and my eyes begin to water. Let's just hope that's hormones settling and not a long-lasting effect. I love watching Maeve grow into this sweet, smart little girl. Our talkative toddler who loves to run and climb, loves doggies and trees and books: but man oh man how I mourn the loss of her babyhood with each same step. 

Ironic, isn't it? 

We made it nearly sixteen months nursing, and considering what an awful start she and I had with it and the struggle it took to make it work I am proud that we got this far. My goal was to make it a year and then we'd see. When a year came and went at the end of September it just didn't feel time yet and we kept going; slowly shifting to just nursing in the mornings. As most mamas can tell you though, morning nursings seem to be the sweetest, quietest, most perfect of moments with your babe. My normally busy bee lays still and quiet, strokes my cheek and twirls my hair. *sigh* Afterwards it's a jump and a hop and a million babbling words and laughter and the stillness of the day evaporates.  

I knew it was time to wean when my anxiety began to peak again (I can't take my medication while nursing/pregnant), and knowing I had hit a plateau at baby-weight loss for several months now I decided we would wean soon. That was almost two months ago. I've set several "this is it" goals, but when the morning came I just couldn't make myself do it. Yesterday,(yet another goal) felt different. I savored our morning and talked to Maeve about how this was our last time to nurse. More for me that for her really. I tried to study her face, her fiery curly tickling my skin, her tiny fingers curling my hair round and round and her smiles peaking round at me when we would lock eyes. And then came today: today was hard. Hard to say "No, thank you. All done nursing, would you like a cuppie of milk?" Hard to lose that morning snuggle, the only stillness of the day. Hard to recognize she's a toddler now, and not my little baby. When did that happen? How do you witness and marvel at all these changes taking place and still become winded at the realization that time has passed and things will never be like they once were. That there is no freezing in time and clinging to a moment, only pictures and memory. 

I keep thinking of a piece of advice a friend wrote me when we were pregnant with Maeve. A mother of three girls, the older two teenagers now, she wrote, "Never let yourself become irritated with night feedings, the strange hours, having to put them in your bed. At 3am remember, this will only last a year or two, and then it's gone. There will come a day they can do it on their own, they won't want to climb in your bed, and they'll want their space. At 3am, try and enjoy it, try to remember this is fleeting." And I did, I tried to remember at 3am, "this beautiful creature is mine to love!" and I tried to study her features and memorize every feeling. It didn't always work, and many nights I was mad to see 3am again, but I feel like I mostly remember the beauty and love behind 3am. That's how I want to try and enter every stage of parenthood, and marriage in my life. To memorize how everyone looks, and feels and the love and pride in the room and remembering in those inconvenient moments, "it won't always be like this."