The Informavore

When Elliott woke up three times last night feeling warm – I gave him some Tylenol. No coughing, sneezing, running nose, vomiting, diarrhea and was still playing, talking, eating and drinking with a temp of 100.7 – I figure it’s just a teething fever, right?

Wrong. By 2:30, when I took him to have the pediatrician say, “Yes, that’s a teething fever, he can go to day care.,” he was a roasted 103.7. Clearly not a low grade fever. But other than being a little less rough an tumble – we still don’t know what the problem is.

The one upside to today? He laid on my office papasan with a blanket on his lap. He would pull it over his face, wait, then yank it back down while string straight at me. It took a few turns before I could smell what the rock was cooking. “Peekaboo, woman!! Ask me where I am, then proclaim, ‘There he is!’”

So we played. He led the game and I shouted along. It was neat to see him acting things out, even if he was sick as a dog.

If you’ve arrived here via Facebook, you probably already know that my parents gave Corey and I a night off from parenting. In reality, being a parent – much like Walmart or Batman – means never taking a night off. Our parenting is just taking a shift off.

Boy howdy – have we made the most of it thus far. Allow me to recount thus far:

2:15 p.m. – Arrive in Fort Worth after a jaunty little skip down I-30. We locate the hotel, but since we didn’t plan to check in til 4, we headed down to The Flying Saucer in Sundance Square. We munched on a plate of peppered salami, Gouda, smoked cheddar, olive tapenade, apple slices and almonds and had some frosty pints to wash it down.

3:30 – Walk around the square a bit, contemplating dinner. We decided that whatever it would be – it would be as indulgent as a Hilton sister. The top two contenders were Brazilian steak and Simply Fondue.

4:10 – Check-in. We marvel at the wide open marble lobby and roaring fireplace at the Omni. Fun fact – we never had to wait for an elevator, they popped open as soon as we pressed the button. Luxury, my friends. Luxury.

4:15 – Get in room. Perched on the 11th floor, we have huge mirrors, leather couches, a half bathroom, separate living and sleeping areas, down comforters, freestanding bath, dimmer switches on lamps (so much nicer than the aggressively bright, semi-flicker then illuminate lamps at most budget places) and a 5-head glass shower. The package my parents booked included: two personal bottles of bubbly, chocolate dipped strawberries, “romantic turn-down service” (robes and a rose on the edge of the bed), breakfast in bed and late check out. Luxury, my friends.

We relax in the hotel for a bit – then contemplate dinner more. We realize that Simply Fondue has a 4 course, bottomless fondue couple’s special for that night. Done. We make the reservation online.

7:00 – We walk down to the restaurant.

7:30 – We sit down to eat. The four courses include:

Salad-
I had the Greek, Corey had the Gorgonzola Greens.

Cheese Fondue –
We had the Wisconsin Sharp Cheddar with bread and raw veggies.

Meats -
We each chose three and they were served with veggies and a bajillion sauces.
Corey tried the Jerk chicken, teriyaki sirloin, bacon-wrapped tenderloin while I had coconut shrimp, salmon and honey-almond chicken.

Chocolate -
We played it safe with the milk chocolate and dipped cherries, pineapples, bananas, strawberries, pirouette cookies, rice krispies, angel food cake and brownies.

9:30 – We walk off the food coma. Corey gets a vanilla creme at Starbucks and we return to the hotel.

11:00 – 7:30 – Sweet, uninterrupted sleep for 8.5 hours. LUXURY.

8:50 – Breakfast is delivered. Eggs, bacon, hashbrown potatoes, toast/croissants, orange juice, water, coffee, mimosas and the tiniest bottles of Tabasco, ketchup and jellies on Earth.

9:43 – I finish this post and nap for 10 minutes before getting in the shower.

When we arrived yesterday, the desk clerk handed Corey an envelope with his name on it. I joked that it was a ransom note – that the whole night was a ruse for my parents to kidnap Elliott. After all this decadence, if it were, we would be in a very low-speed chase. In reality, it was just a note explaining the details of the package.

Every year, my mom likes to ask me what my favorite Christmas was. New baby and some quality time with the hubs? We may have a winner.

Elliott was ordered to stay home and out of daycare til our Friday check-up. So, Corey and I are taking turns on who gets to stay home. Today is my day. We spent a little time on our tummy after reading all the alarmist articles about decreased motor skills, lowered IQ, and cranial flattening. Good times.

Pretty much sums up this morning.

Sick = Unwell; poor health; Elliott’s deep chest cough that has kept him up all night.

Sick = Gross; nasty; the fountain of vomit said coughing caused all over myself, Corey, our bed and the bedroom floor. It’s just recycled formula, thank God he’s not on solids, yet.

Sick = In conjunction with tired, frustrated; put out; how I felt when I kept getting the Graves-Gilbert receptionist who said the Pediatrician’s office wasn’t open. “Is this an emergency?” Nah, I just wanted to call and hear how his holiday shopping is going.

So I’m blogging to kill time before can take him to his 9:30 appointment. Bless his heart – for being so sick, he still tries to smile.

In the past 3.75 months of being a new parent, I have learned the truths behind some of the cliches.

You know those “mom jeans” with the mile high waist and three foot long crotch? Awesome. Why? Do you know what a post-baby belly looks like when you haven’t been to the gym? Like Droopy the Dog. The higher the waist – the more the carnage is contained. Voilà.

Oh, and the guilt trips moms are notorious for? It’s because we ( I ) spend most of our days making ourselves feel guilty that we have to knock others down a peg just to maintain sanity. Everything makes me feel like a horrible person.

Even though we were only in Texas for two full days, I feel guilty that we didn’t visit my grandmother’s house when she invited us at Thanksgiving dinner. She lives less than five minutes away. It was possible – and though we will still be seeing her at Christmas – I feel like a jerk.

I have been wanting to return to the gym. I’m carrying around baby weight, which, is only an excuse until Jan. 1st. Then, I can’t say “I just had a baby,” without adding the “last year” caveat. While the gym has a child care room, I feel guilty unloading him on new strangers when he’s already been in school all day. Guilt. But I don’t feel inspired to exercise unless I’m in the gym – and I really like using a facility I am paying for. Guilty guilt.

The worst part? Lily. Our first “baby” had her world turned upside down. She doesn’t get the uninterrupted one on one playtime. Guilt. She’s been chewing her feet when Elliott cries because her ears are so sensitive. Guilt. She doesn’t have a happy, playful expression anymore. Now, she looks at me as she gamely paws to get under a blanket – as if to say, “What did I do to deserve this? Wasn’t I enough?” Fantasy induced guilt.

Is it all in my head? Probably, at least some of it. Do I think I’m demanding too much of myself? Not really. Maybe this guilt is a small contributor to my current decision to make Elliott an only child. The idea of finding new things to feel guilty about- coupled with being considered a high risk pregnancy now – is a little too much. But the sibling issue is best reserved for another post.

Now I need to feel guilty about how much Elliott hates his car seat as we drive the last few hours to Bowling Green from Pilot Oak.

Woo. Let. Me. Tell you. Driving from Kentucky to Texas round trip in a week will take it out of a full grown person. Imagine being 3.75 months old. It really tough.

Elliott was a trooper, though. Being a traveling man will make you tough. While Elliott has been placing his hands on his bottles for the past few weeks – lately he’s been able to hold it up on his own for a few seconds. If I’m helping him hold it – he’s learned how to push it away so he can rest and pull it back. He also had a drop of vanilla soft serve on his tongue. He loved it.

I read a poem by Mindy Nettifee that had a line that basically said – parenting is about teaching your child how to live without you. When I read that line, it broke my heart a little bit. When I saw Elliott hold his bottle, it made me think of that line.

What do they say about transitive properties, again?