Last week Namine had a blood draw in order to check for things. Things that would explain her recent lethargy and lack of appetite. Friday evening we got a call from the pediatrician, who said that there is nothing to indicate sickness. The next step? Contact cardiology at Children’s Hospital.
Yesterday Namine had a blood test done at the pediatrician’s office. Normally I’ll manage to get away from work to be there, as Jessica gets queasy at the sight of blood and it bothers me not a bit, but I had a presentation to give. So three nurses held down a screaming, crying Namine to take her blood.
Do you remember those days – it seems so long ago – when we were told by GI doctors that Namine was not gaining weight, and that she’d have her g-tube until the third grade? They refused to back down on her g-tube feeds and just let her eat, convinced that her weight gain would happen by pumping formula into her and not by real food.
Namine is a smart girl. What she doesn’t understand outright – and there isn’t much, her vocabulary is probably in the hojillions – she tends to pick up from context. Before you know it, she’s using words, phrases, and expressions beyond what you’d expect from a three year old. But sometimes she totally misses the mark, like tonight.
File this one away as one of those times that Namine just blew my mind. It’s not unknown to us that Namine will climb anything and everything she can to stand up. She can’t quite stand up on her own yet, but it’s not like she’d let something as insignificant as that stop her.
I love the weekends. It’s not that I don’t have to go to work; it’s not that I don’t have to dress up – although “business casual” can hardly be considered dressing up compared to wearing a tie. It’s being able to spend the day with my family.
One of Namine’s Christmas presents was a fold-out tent and tunnel. I don’t have a picture outside of the tunnel (Namine wouldn’t come out), but here’s a similar one from Amazon. She was so excited while I was setting it up that she literally (and yes, I do know what it means when I say that) could not sit still. I had to tell her repeatedly, and repeatedly, and repeatedly (ad nauseum) to back away, because I didn’t want her to get whacked in the head, or anywhere else, with the poles that hold the tent together.