Home sweet health.

T is home.

On Friday afternoon as we were getting ready for Shabbat dinner at her mother's house she was plagued but a headache, one of several in the last few weeks. By the time we got to her mother's house she was also nauseous and having terrible stomach pains.

Let me just tell you that in the presence of your Persian Jewish mother and your Persian Jewish mother-in-law is not the best place to get sick. T knows this, but I don't think she could have hidden it. As it was, she tried to play it down, simply resting in the den where I hide with the kids.

It didn't stop the sporadic fits of worry that struck the mothers, but we muscled through the evening and went home early.

Somewhere around 3 am T came to wake me to let me know she was going to the emergency room. I retrieved the baby monitor and went back to sleep. I think.

Somewhere around 4 am Baby I's diaper exploded in a fit of rage and drenched his entire crib in pee.

I cleaned him up, threw all the peed on pajamas into the peed on crib, wiped his entire body with baby wipes and set up camp with him on the playroom bed. He fell asleep rather quickly and snuggled right up in my arm and it was SO CUTE.

Somewhere around 6 am J came down to the playroom and I nearly shot and killed him. But I don't own a gun. I roared something about it being too early, turned on PBS and went back to sleep. R joined us a bit later and I tried to snooze through them babbling and climbing all over me. Baby I woke up shortly after her arrival and then even feigning sleep was over. All over.

I got up, made breakfast and set about entertaining the munchkins until further notice. First, T's mom called to see how T was feeling. I told her the couple was out. She seemed unhappy with my answer, but she let me go. She called back an hour later and asked what they were wearing when they went out. I stuttered a little bit and then thought of something truthful to say about the situation without giving away T's location.

"I don't know. They woke me up early to say they were leaving and I wasn't really paying attention to what they were wearing."

Still unhappy with me and my lack of knowledge, she hung up. I texted E to let him know I was having a hard time fending off T's mom, which could only mean that when his mom grilled me the beans would be spilt.

He called a few minutes later to say they would call the family. T had been admitted for tests which had all come back negative. No kidney, appendix or gallbladder problems. She was about to undergo an MRI.

I spent the day trying to talk the kids into going to the library but they were too happy to be home all day so we stayed put. I turned a diaper box into a house which they finger painted. We made soft pretzels which no one but the baby and I would eat. We were having a good old time when the mothers showed up.

Sometime in the afternoon they decided that if they weren't going to be allowed in the hospital they would just set up camp under my feet and drive me closer to the edge of sanity than I have ever been.

The curses dripping out of my mouth that day were unfathomable.

E's mom kept telling me to feed the baby more fruit even after insisted that he had had enough. The next day he had some fierce bowel movements. T's mom kept telling me to follow him around the house even after I explained that he is quite a large baby now and can move freely about without dying. I decided not to mention the fact that he can go up and down stairs alone, but just started repeating myself.

"He can play in the living room. It's ok. He knows what he can touch."

"It's dangerous!"

"No, no, he plays in there all the time. He's ok."

As I was making dinner they both came into the kitchen to tell me how dangerous the table was. In their defense, Baby I has run face first into the table's edge before, but it's been a while. In my defense, it's not their house, it's not their table, it's not their job to watch the kids, it's not going to kill the baby to figure out that he can't walk directly into the table anymore and it's not going to kill the other two kids to not run in the kitchen, which they are not allowed to do anyway and if it takes running smack into the table for them to figure out why, then I think that is a lesson they need to learn.

The two mothers turned the table and pushed it up against the wall, telling me how much better it was and insisting that I help them in their quest by telling E and T it was better this way.

I pretended to have fallen deaf and finished making dinner.

As the lasagna cooled down, E's mom verbalized something I hadn't realized she understood.

"If I stay, the children will not eat."

"Yes, they sit and eat much better when there's no one else here." I agreed, exchanging a look with T's mom to let her know I didn't mean her. For some odd reason the kids will listen to her, but not E's mom. When the latter is here they are monsters at the dinner table.

"I'll go then, I'll go." E's mom said, putting on her coat and proceeding to stand directly behind the kids at the table. I waited a moment and then looked right at her.

"They really do much better when no one is here."

"Yes, they sit and eat when I go." And she stood there. She said goodbye to the baby, which makes him cry, and then held him to make him stop and set him in his chair and did it again.

Instead of tearing my hair out, or hers as I would have really enjoyed at that moment, I took a deep breath.

"Ok, thanks for coming. I can't serve them until you go, so...bye."

She took the hint and hurried out of the room.

T's mom sat down and I served the kids and they ate. Every bite.

E stopped by that evening and I got the kids all ready for bed pretty easily with T's mom helping and whichever child I was not handling at the moment following E around.

And then, JUST as I was going into the baby's room with him in arm, tired and cranky, more of E's family showed up. These people are very nice and very, VERY sweet. BUT DO THEY EVER THINK????

His sister and her teenage daughter came upstairs and right into the baby's room and took him and kissed him and tried to get him to talk to them. And he was moody. He wanted to go to bed. He started crying and reaching for me and they still kept at it. Finally E came in, took the baby and said, "He's going to bed now." And they got the message and left the room.

UGH.

Sunday morning E called to say T was being released later that morning.

Around 11 she came home and then had to go for an acupuncture treatment to alleviate some pregnancy related digestion issues that were believed to be the cause of all her pain.

Sunday evening the mothers decided it was their job to cook a huge meal and invite everyone in the family for dinner at our house, you know, to help T relax and recover.

E barbecued and T's sister's kids trashed the playroom and the new basement playroom. T's dad cleaned up the dinner dishes and put most of the food away and I will love that man forever for doing so.

Monday was back to normal.

In the afternoons after school we have been working on getting the basement put together for J's birthday party coming up on Sunday.

My other ongoing project, is keeping the baby's newly developed love for a security blanket in check. He has several of those tiny soft square blankets with a stuffed animal head attached. They're all blue and they are all the same or similar material but there are two that he favors. He never used to care about them but suddenly in the last two weeks he wants them all the time.

I am all for a security object but I hate when kids get too attached, mainly because I don't want to be the poor soul standing in the library while the baby screams bloody murder for a stupid blanket that I left at home.

So I am trying to keep them in his bed and we give them to him only for sleeping. He calls them "da-das" while the rest of the family calls them "na-nas".

Because of the timing of his naps and when R returns from school she us usually the only one home when he wakes up. She likes to go up to his room when he's awake and get into his crib with him until I come for him.

On Monday afternoon I was listening to them on the monitor and when it sounded like he had had enough crib time I started up the stairs. As I reached the top I could see R facing I in the crib and pointing a serious finger at him.

"Drop. Your. Na-na." She ordered. He did.

Smoothest transition ever.