The Mighty Quinn

The Mighty Quinn is growing like a weed. He smiles all the time, (except for pictures) he giggles when tickled and has a whole new batch of nick names. Amelia calls him "Little Quinners" and tells me that "Baby Cakes is cryin'!" Riley calls him "Jiggly Puff" & "Magmortar" after 2 of his prized Pokemon cards. And Hans (in a high pitched voice) calls him "Quinny Quinny!"

I must admit I was worried that the Conrad & Riley would be ambivalent about Quinn's arrival and that Amelia would be jealous, but they are all madly in love with their littlest brother. So much so that when they come home with their friends they say to them, "Come look at Quinn. Isn't he so cute? Do you want to hold him. You can kiss him if you like." It warms my heart that they adore him as much as Hans & I do.

Quinn at 3 months giving peace a chance

Conrad wearing Quinn (3 1/2 months) in our zebra sling

Conrad [fake sleeping (his idea) for the picture] and Quinn (4 months and real sleeping)

Sickos....

This week, our little family has fallen prey to the back-to-school-&-change-of-season sick monster.

(Note: This is not related to the change of season or back to school)
Riley had another seizure (#2) on Tuesday morning on the bus to school. Conrad caught it. He told the bus driver, counted how long the seizure lasted and then called me from a friend's cell phone and while we were talking, the ambulance came. Fortunately, the seizure only lasted 57 sec. (according to Conrad) Riley was able to go to school 2 hours later with no problem. I was hoping that he we wouldn't have any more. Maybe he won't.

Conrad said this experience humbled him and made him realize that he needs to be nicer to Riley. He looked at Riley later that night and said, "You have to sit by me on the bus from now on and Mom I need a watch so that I can time his seizures more accurately." Conrad is feeling the mantel of being the oldest sibling. I'm glad. He stayed calm under pressure. That's a good thing.

But that's not all...

This last week, Amelia had a nasty night time cough that crept into her throat around 2 a.m. every night.
Hans started having a sore throat on Friday and by Sunday he went to the clinic and sure enough it was flat-on-your-back-with-the-fever- Strep. That Sunday night around 11:30 Conrad started puking until he couldn't puke any more. (Poor little guy. There's nothing more exhausting than watching your child dry heave at 3:50 in the morning.)

Fortunately Quinn and I are healthy. (knock on wood.)



Sweet Amelia was playing Florence Nightingale by bringing Hans water, covering him up with her blankets (notice the pink?) and patting him on head.


*I was going to end the post, but as I reread it and looked at Amelia's smiling face next to Hans' sick face, I realized that my kids are good kids and they love our family and want to help each other because... well they love each other. It's nice to have a realization of that from time to time.

You've got to be kidding me...

Snow?

squeamish

Fall has hit Minneapolis with all the usual gusto of turning leaves, cooler temperatures, windy nights and illness. Our family seems to have a stuffy, drippy, sneezing sort of illness. We've tried to guard against the cold, flu and the ever popular H1N1 swine flu, but last night poor Conrad suddenly came home with an upset stomach, cold sweats and then minutes later, massive puking.
My first thought was, "Oh great. Time to pull out the Clorox disinfecting wipes. "
Conrad took a bath and I began the questioning, "what did you eat? You haven't been sick earlier today, so what happened?"
Come to find out that he and his friend, Crystal, (a fellow bunny enthusiast) had been playing, running skipping, laughing and then she accidentally stepped on the tip of a shovel. It was like the cartoons, with the whole "shovel handle to the face" gag. Apparently, the handle hit her mouth so hard that it knocked one of her adult teeth loose, with blood and bruising to go with it. Conrad came home soon after taking Crystal to her parents and the nausea started as he was coming home.
I had to laugh a little that my fearless, carefree, 9 year-old future veterinarian became a little squeamish at the sight of blood. Come to think of it, he did look a little green when he came home. Poor guy.