Don't Trust the Applesauce

Paxton does so many things now that my head spins, trying to remember what is new and what has just improved from the past. Right now, he's playing with one of his Hot Wheels on the floor, making the "brrrrrrruuum" truck noise that boys inherently know. I've suspected this for a lifetime. When I make truck noises, they sound much like a cartoon word would convey. "Beep, beep! Vroom!" Paxton is 14-months-old and he's already making realistic sound effects. I always tried to mimic them from my big brother when I was a kid, but I'm convinced that a woman's mouth just isn't physiologically capable of making those sounds.

And now he has wandered into the living room with a drum stick (courtesy of Dada) and he's telling me to throw my hands in the air. That one bit of real power in music class made an eternal impression. He's forever guiding us when is the right time to throw our hands in the air.

After two weekend nights of coughing in his sleep so much that he could only moan forlornly when between bouts, we took him to the doctor on President's Day. Our usual doctor was out, but I like the other guy fine. Some of the other moms find him creepy, but I've never gotten that vibe. I don't have the same confidence I have with our other doctor, but I trust him. He listened to Paxton's lungs for, oh, about 46 days. The kid was patient for an exceedingly long time, I think, before he was just over the stethoscope being pressed against his chest and him being forced to sit still. Frankly, I was with him, although I played the dutiful mom and continued to hold him still in my lap. Poor kid. Finally the doctor declared that Paxton had pneumonia. I didn't panic. He caught me pre-panic to liken it to the oft-heard of "walking pneumonia". He said it was just in one lung, slightly. His left, for future reference. I don't actually know much about pneumonia. From what I am guessing, it starts as some other ailment and can drain into the lungs and cause an infection? I dunno. But he sent us home with a prescription for antibiotics (Paxton's first) and told us to pick up some Mucinex to thin out the mucous. He also told us that the idea that greenish-yellow snot means there's an infection, isn't necessarily true. It more often relates to the amount of time it has been in the sinus passage. Interesting.

As we always seem to learn when Paxton gets his mouth checked at the doctor's office, he's...TEETHING! Shocker. He's had two coming in for ages. The front eight are all full-size baby teeth now and they're awfully cute. We had no big problems with those, aside from the vast amounts of drool. But these molars are living up to their bad reputation. They are making our little dude miserable. He constantly has a finger in his mouth, rubbing them. The doctor informed us that he has molars coming in on both the top and bottom, left and right sides. No wonder the kid is bummed. And that also accounts for all these illnesses he's been picking up. None of his other friends have their hands in their mouths nearly as much as Paxton. In fact, I can't think of a single time I've seen them chomping on their hands. For Paxton, it's a fact of life. But so is teething. He cut his first tooth early, and it's been one after another since then. I hope when all this is done, he manages to stay a lot healthier. And not just because every illness he has, I catch three days later. I had to sleep with my head on two pillows last night just so I could breathe somewhat. Paxton now laughingly mimics my coughing.

I started giving Paxton Motrin twice a day, per doctor's orders, and I now believe it was created by God. Paxton hasn't had his hands in his mouth for days. He's so much happier. Of course, I'm lacing his applesauce with it to get him to take it. Unlike most of my friend's babies, he has no love for the sweet taste of baby medicine. His antibiotics taste like bubblegum. I, personally, could probably drink a bucket of it happily. He makes a face like I've asked him to lick a dirty armpit. I also lace his applesauce with it, and he's gotten wise to me. This morning, at breakfast, he wouldn't touch the applesauce with a ten-foot pole.

While Paxton shows a startling capacity for learning, he also shows that he needs to temporarily push back old information to make room for the new. For instance, he no longer says "cat" or "dog". Now he only refers to the cats, and they are all "kitty!". Every kitty is exciting and endearing. He can be in the middle of a crying fit because I'm trying to pry the dried snot off his nose with a wet wipe, and, if, in the middle of shaking his head wilding to escape me, a cat should enter his line of vision, he smiles happily and declares that the world is good again with one word: "KITTY!".

He is getting his signs a little mixed up, but it does take a while to hone them. He still points out every fan, everywhere. We ate at a restaurant last night with no fewer than 13-ceiling fans in one room. The switch was off, so he pointed at them for Chris to obediently spin by hand. Chris drew the line at four. He also always does the sign for light if he sees an interesting one worth mentioning. At music class, when Miss Petra turns off the lights for quiet time, he always does the sign for "light" to show that he noticed the change.

We're currently working on the sign for "water". He knows the sign for "milk", and we do it when he's nursing. He is trying to master the sign for "ball", which is a little tough. He loves to do the sign for "shoes", but is still figuring out that the sign for "socks" involves pointing down, rather than up. "Cheese" is an easy one that he does only when he wants it. "Eat" is getting a little confused with his new skill of blowing kisses.

He's just a great little boy. He's so smart and funny and active and clever. We are more tightly wrapped around his finger by the day. I half-joke that I want my next child to be more like Chris, because Paxton is a mirror-image of my headstrong, sometimes bratty personality and I've always said that I would never date someone like me. Too high-strung. But he is teaching me patience--with him and myself. I am learning to read his signs and work within his limits and my own. For a week, everything we fed him, he would spit out of his mouth. I was ready to let him starve, thinking back to moms who put children to bed with no dinner for offenses such as these. But he's 14-months-old, and I don't think he's doing these things to antagonize me. Rather, I wrote it off to him learning a new skill that he wanted to show off, and seeing that it got a reaction from me just reinforced the action. Chris, meanwhile, would bend over backwards, cooking up alternatives to see what pleased his baby pallet. Once I got sick, I realized that all the sinus drainage going into my stomach was leaving me with an appetite for nothing. Since I was a few days behind Paxton in the symptoms, it all made sense. As soon as he was feeling better, he ate like a champ once again. I felt bad for making wrong assumptions, but I'm learning to think outside of my small box. Paxton is teaching me now just the kind of person I want to be, but that I have to actively choose to be that person in every situation. My mood is a choice. My reactions are a choice. Even my perception can be a choice. It's liberating.

He's off to nap and Chris is sleeping-in, so I suppose I'll close and hit some of my morning pet sitting jobs. It's getting busy again, and I'm rediscovering my love of caring for animals. My life is feeling awfully blessed lately. God is beyond good.