Parenthood
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Elizabeth and Matthew had a karate tournament this morning. Amelia and I went to church to wander through an "Israelites wandering through the desert" obstacle course and to make a water out of a rock craft, which I figured would be far more entertaining for all involved than trying to get the two year old to SIT and WATCH. Brendan thinks next time maybe we should figure out how to get the four year old out of the dojo once his events are over as well. It's a long morning when you are all done competing.

 

Matthew was the first kid through his tykes obstacle course. He was very proud of this "It's because I'm the fastest kid alive". He was very taken with his (participation) medal. Daddy was less taken by having to protect bystanders from the heavy projectile on the end of a string while trying to focus on taking photos of Elizabeth.

 

Elizabeth won silver for her kata in a field of 11 competitors, and then took bronze in sparring. Won the first match 5-0, lost the second 3-5. She's beat the silver medallist "lots of times before" but was still quite proud of herself. "Next time I just have to be more FIERCE!" (Eek!)

 

Amelia was fine all morning running around -a little off balance but nothing serious, though she did keep tripping on nothing - but when she woke up after her nap she was a bit disoriented and complained her head was extremely "owie". I was getting ready for Brendan's birthday party so Auntie Janice helped the kids make birthday cards for Daddy and they "helped" Auntie Janice with her laundry.

 

It wouldn't be a party without someone throwing up though, would it? Not long after cousins arrived, Amelia decided she wanted to go play instead of clinging to Auntie Janice. Next thing we knew - Isabelle announced that there was "something by the piano". "Something" turned out to be Amelia throwing up. She threw up again upstairs, came down to watch Daddy blow out his candles (and help from a distance) and then threw up a third time in the dining room.

 

Combination of complaining constantly about her head, the weird off balance and the puking made us decide we had better head back to CHEO in case this was concussion related. I tried texting our pediatrician neighbour Catherine first in the hopes of being told I was overreacting but she thought it was a good idea too. So I abandoned my slice of birthday cake and Janice, Amelia and I headed to the ER. Triage was much faster than Friday, which gave us some vain hope we might be there a shorter time but it was clearly busier. If Friday was full of concussions, Sunday evening seemed to have a disproportionate number of hockey injuries.

 

We waited a really long time. Amelia was pretty perky in the ambulatory (airplane!) waiting room, but as soon as we got put in "isolation" to wait, she promptly threw up again. By now it was 11pm. Unfortunately the mattress in the waiting room was not exactly waterproof. It was so gross and Amelia actually needed to use a second change of clothes when the wet (disinfectant? leftover puke?) seeped out of the mattress. But neither Janice nor I actually needed to use any of the complete spare changes of clothes we'd brought for ourselves. You might think we sounded prepared, but you'd be wrong since we forgot Amelia's footwear. Sigh.

 

In any case, I was unimpressed with the mattress, and I was also unimpressed that we were abandoned in the waiting room by ourselves without any sheets or towels visible nor any kind of orientation on stuff like "how to turn out/down the lights". Not sure how they would go about doing it but a tiny bit more communication would go a long way. We actually got to the point of pinging for a nurse just to make sure they hadn't forgotten about us.

 

We didn't get to see the doctor until about 1:15am, and at first it was a resident. But he was extremely thorough and spent really a long time staring into Amelia's eyes looking for potential bleeding at the back, feeling her head and watching her walk (by FAR her least favourite part). He also took a really thorough history, going right back to Amelia's birth. "And how long were you in the hospital after your C-section?" "24 hours" "?!?!" "I don't like hospitals". I was just finishing remarking to Janice how odd it was that pretty much every single medical professional (including all the nurses) we had seen that evening were male when the main doctor arrived. She was very nice. After more evaluation, we were given the option to either be admitted overnight for observation, or have an anti-nausea drug and observe her ourselves at home. Since it was now 2am and Amelia was asking "we go home now Momma" (and yes, I don't like hospitals), I definitely opted against admittance. The idea was that the anti-nausea drug would take the puking out of the equation if it was due to something other than the concussion.

 

So we went home and heroine Janice covered the garden against frost, and Amelia and I crawled into bed and got a solid three hours of sleep. After which Amelia woke up and had a massive temper tantrum on and off until it was time for the older two to go to the bus. Let's just say Amelia ate six bowls of breakfast, we put the kids on to the bus, I checked my email to make sure there were no crises at work and then Amelia and I crashed. She slept until nearly 3pm, woke up and was fine again. Even her balance seems back to normal this time and she says her head and tummy are now "fine".


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