Monday we were in such a rush to get out of the house I left my tie hanging by the door, where I’d put it so I wouldn’t forget. On my way to Julian’s daycare I began to miss the familiar choking sensation. I realized I would work for the first day since residency without a necktie. It was freeing, but discomforting. I won’t let it happen again. Otherwise the day was routine, and after getting all the kids in bed I went up to the study to sort mail and check on Abby’s hamster, Peaches.
Peaches was in the study because Abby had told a fib the previous week, implicating Julian in a bathroom mess that was actually hers. She confessed immediately, and her punishment was to lose hamster privileges for a week. Upon going to bed, her last words were, “Tomorrow I get Peaches back!”
Usually Peaches stirs when people are about, so I was surprised to work near her cage for a few minutes without hearing her. I nudged the glass with my toe, but nothing happened. I pried the lid open, and still she didn’t move, lying with her nose buried in a corner of her fluffy bedding. I nudged her and felt she was cold. Immediately I thought of her water bottle, which sometimes gets siphoned dry when the tip touches bedding, but to my relief I saw by the shadow that it was full, something Margaret and I had both checked visually several times over the week.
I called for Margaret to come upstairs, and we both looked gravely at Peaches, thinking Abby has had too many rodent deaths already. Then I lifted the water bottle out of the cage and my stomach sank. It was completely dry. The shadow remained, cast by the metal contraption that protects the bottle from being chewed.
Margaret and I contemplated what to do. We even entertained finally letting Abby have her favorite of Granne’s dogs, Binky, whom Mom had offered us several times. I called Mom to let her know what had happened and gingerly explore the possibilities. She informed us that in the current state of our household we were not qualified to adopt a dog. So we went with Plan B. At this point I’ll turn the blog over to Margaret, who described Tuesday in an email to her dad:
Well, somehow we managed to keep it under wraps Tuesday morning, so the kids went off to school unsuspecting. Between patients I ran out and bought a new teddy bear hamster, a boy, even fluffier than Peaches, and a new cage with lots of things for him to do. We had Haley bring Abby and Sellers to my office rather than home, and they immediately saw the cage and assumed I had a new office mascot. "Mommy! Is he yours???" I hesitated, and replied, "No, he's yours." Abby paused about 20 seconds, searching my face, and then burst into tears. Sellers followed a few seconds later, and they piled into my lap. It was brief, though - within a minute or two, they were checking out their new friend.
I was calling the new baby "Butterscotch", which Abby liked, but Sellers did not. He favored first "Peanut Butter", and then shortened it to "Peanut". We moved on to pick up Julian and break the news, in the way he understands best: "Peaches drivin' Hummer." (This was the metaphor he came up with for Sugar...your guess is as good as mine...) We realized the name needed work when it sounded for all the world like Julian announced to all, "We got PENIS! Peaches died, oh sad, and now we got PENIS!" We mulled over the options on the way home and came up with "Caramel". And so it stands.
Caramel
Fortunately the rest of the last two weeks has been a lot more fun. Last Thursday I went to the Children’s Museum of Wilmington to celebrate the tenth anniversary of Wilmington Parent Magazine, the hometown freebie whose medical column I write. I didn’t know as many of the celebrants as I’d hoped, so I spent a decent amount of time munching shrimp and feigning fascination at the machine that suspends a beach ball on a column of air.
Friday was a classic Flop Night: strombolis, Avatar, and Top Chef. Saturday was double soccer, but there was a surprise. Both children were to play at the same time on two different fields, even though they had the same coach. The games were at ten, which left us an hour to blow. It didn’t take us long to figure out what to do: we had passed the United Methodist Church on the way to soccer, and their annual pumpkin sale was in full swing. Time for some photos:
The soccer games went great, we think. Torn between two fields, several potty runs, and a number of conversations with friends, we can’t quite tell you the scores. But the kids enjoyed themselves.
From there it was on to Pendercrest Nursery (we’ve bought everything they have at Home Depot), where we branched out into cana lilies and elephant ears.
What are these children watching at the nursery?
It's a GOURD dog!
When I returned Nancy Cunningham and Bill Hession came by with Jake and Sean and an entire dinner for us (broiled Mahi, rice, salad, bread, wine, wow!). Conversation turned to Halloween, and we offered to show off our costumes. When we all came down dressed as aliens, two-year-old Sean was certain he was about to become dessert, letting out a series blood-curdling screams. It took a minute to get it through our latex-covered heads that he was terrified and take off our costumes. We’ve offered to cover his therapy bills.
Sunday I awoke at 4:30 AM to get into the hospital early. I figured I’d make it home to help Margaret in the garden. Seventeen babies, six circumcisions, one spinal tap, and four floor patients later I came home to put the kids to bed. The family had a great time during my absence. Margaret got all her plants in, and the kids got basketball lessons from Josh. Then it was two more admissions from 12:00 AM to 3:00 AM. That’s what we get for having a call group of 16 full time equivalents.
Julian is finally potty training successfully. This means the potty goes wherever he goes:
This week started routinely, necktie and all. But Wednesday morning Julian awoke at 2:30 AM with a fever of 102 and diarrhea. I cancelled my patients and kept him in my office while I worked on the computer. He was a delight, stopping his DVD’s frequently to run to the potty. He was also sweet to me Thursday morning when I woke up with his disease.
Fortunately I recovered in time to join Sellers on his field trip to the Arboretum and Wrightsville Beach Park. It was our first time to see the Arboretum despite living four blocks away. Upon seeing the Zen rock garden Sellers dropped his leaf-collecting bag and sat on the largest rock in the Lotus position, fingers perfectly circled, eyes closed, breathing deeply. His classmates were confused, but his teachers got the joke. We spent an hour and a half there and even liberated some cana lily seeds to try at home. For a child who is often grave and introspective, Sellers does like to make people laugh:
This Saturday’s soccer games were in sequence, so we got to pay attention again. Let’s just say our opponents were unusually large and skilled. But Abby and Sellers both turned in strong performances. The rest of the day was given over to preparing for our big block party, an oyster roast. We supplied a keg, the first I’ve seen since medical school. (It turns out the minivan is good for something after all.) The neighbors appreciated Margaret’s ordering Dos Equis Amber, which turns out to pair very nicely with fresh local oysters. We couldn’t have ordered more perfect weather, and as the evening chill set in we fell into lawn chairs to swill beer and chat. There must have been two dozen children, all running around in huge packs on foot, scooter, skates, and bicycles. I’d like to say we knew where our kids were at all times, but at least we found them all by bedtime.
Josh waves over oysters while Steve Richards helps himself.
Amy Sause, Heidi Klein, and Ilana Reynolds enjoy goodies.
Jim Harris and Steve Klein deep in conversation.
This afternoon we’re supposed to gather again to finish off the remaining beer and oysters. The coming week is uneventful as far as we know (yes, Caramel’s water bottle is quite full). We’re supposed to attend a Halloween party next weekend, but that’s all we know of. Then anything could happen…
David
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