mommapalooza

one hundred and three

is the number of times since Madeline came home from school two hours ago that I have heard her utter, "Mama, can you ... ?" 

My head just spins ...

how Sadie was taken hostage at three day old, or: checking out is hard to do

On the Saturday after Sadie was born, I was all set to check out of the hospital and head home. Chris and Madeline arrived by nine. I had already changed out of my hospital gown and packed my bag up; around eight in the morning I'd reminded the nurses that i was checking out that day. As far as I knew, we were just waiting for the bill for the delivery and stay, and Sadie's hearing test. At ten o'clock, the bill hadn't arrived, and no one had come to collect the baby for the hearing test. The next time I saw one of the nurses, I reminded her that we were leaving that morning and Sadie still needed her hearing test. Shortly thereafter, my sleeping baby was whisked away to the nursery for what I assumed was a ten-minutes-or-less procedure. Either Chris or I confirmed that our bill was being prepared. 

 At 10:30, I was summoned to the nursery, surely to collect my baby. But no! The nurses showed me all of the parting gifts that Chris and I were supposed to haul home with us: a package of ginormously wide Mommy Poko diapers, a tub of cotton balls, a bottle of betadine, a pink package of phlalate-laden J&J products, and most curious of all - a ceramic plaque. This plaque featured a window displaying a tiny set of Sadie-footprints (which now explains why Chris told me that when he peeked into the nursery, he was certain he saw a nurse painting the soles of her feet), and most curiously, a photo of a baby.  We were not quite sure that the baby in the photo was ours, seeing as this baby's eyes were wide open, and I'd not yet seen Sadie open hers more than halfway, and for no longer than three minutes at a time. She was a very sleepy newborn. Chris remarked that maybe the nursery takes these photos at the exact moment that they startle the babies for their hearing test. Perhaps we have photographic evidence of the very first time Sadie had the bejeezus scared out of her ... 

Could I take Sadie back to my room? No, they needed to keep her in the nursery "for observing". Meanwhile, back in my room, our bill still hadn't shown up. It was 11 o'clock, and according to the hospital's policy, if I wasn't out by noon, I'd be charged for a fourth day of hospital stay.

A few more calls were made to the billing department, which probably labeled us as pesky customers. I was getting majorly twitchy as it had been over three hours since I'd fed Sadie and was certain that she was howling her little three-day-old lungs out in the nursery, irate that her lunch wasn't being immediately produced. I went over to the nursery to explain that it had been many hours since Sadie had been fed, but the nurses were insistent that she needed to stay in the nursery. Sadie wasn't actually screaming in hunger as I had imagined; she was still sleeping but the thought of the hour-long drive home with a hungry-and-awake baby was not appealing. I ended up feeding her there, surrounded by several dozen little plastic tubs containing swaddled babies both sleeping and fussing. I was suprised by how many babies were in the nursery. My guess is that Thai parents are not as into rooming-in, whereas that was the norm when I delivered Madeline in Calgary.  

Could I now take Sadie back to my room? No, she still needed "observing" but "come back when you have receipt."

Seriously? When we had a receipt? This is what for-profit healthcare is like? Hospitals take newborn babies hostage until their parent settle the bill? This concept was so weird to us, being Canadians used to cushy publicly-funded healthcare delivery. 

Finally, around half-past twelve (finally!), we were able to pay the ransom our bill, and we had a slip of paper to take to the nursery so that we could leave with Sadie. We had the carseat reasdy, and were rather surprised when Sadie appeared in the arms of a nurse, wrapped up tighter than a spicy tuna roll in a hooded blanket featuring the name of the hospital in embroidery across the top. So much for the idea of a "coming home outfit" . Thankfully, I'm not so much into stuff like that. The nurse maintained her tight grip on our baby until we were all loaded into the car, when she was finally passed to me. I then spent ten minutes trying to undo Sadie's swaddle to get her into the infant seat - they'd taped her blankets closed! 

All told, it took about five hours from start to finish to check out of Bumrungrad that day. And I really have no idea why. 

Definition: Mermaid Leg

When you try to wrestle a pair of pants onto your baby whilst holding them over your shoulder, only to end up putting both of your baby's legs into the same leg-hole on the pants.

Whunting? Grining?

There is so much that Sadie wants to say these days. 

• "I want up!"
• "I want down!"
• "I want to go outside!"
• "I want to have a bath!"
• "I want inside of this locked cabinet/door!"
• "I want water - but from that cup that you are drinking from!"
• "I need to play in the sink!"
• "I want Tylenol, too!"
• "I must taste that sticker!"

The unfortunate part, though, is that she uses the exact same whine/grunt to communicate every single one of those things. 

international incidents

Sometimes I am not sure what to think about parenting in a foreign culture. There are so many things that I experience with my eyes alone, as I don't understand the language to add hearing to my level of understanding.

For example, I've been getting a weird vibe from Sadie's music class. Today there were three new toddlers in attendance, with their moms. And their nannies. I tried not to stare in curiosity, but I really didn't get it. What did those moms expect to happen during a 45 minute music class that they could not handle alone? Could they not deal with a diaper change, or a tantrum? I spent most of the class ruminating on that instead of focusing on shaking maracas. 

Also, those other toddlers pretty much sat politely in their appropriate parental laps for the entire class, while my little girl alternately would wander over to offer her drum/shaker/scarf to her instructor, investigate the row of cabinets along the wall to ensure that they were indeed locked, and well, sometimes she sat in my lap. Or near my lap.  I know that some of Sadie's interactivity is appropriate for the class, such as running over to the shaker container to drop hers in at the end of the activity, and jumping up to push the large gathering drum into it's storage cabinet (someone has to demonstrate those things, right?). But the rest of it was acting out of turn, even though it's typical toddler behavior from my own cultural perspective. Her need to explore and investigate is something that I encourage, and something that my Canadian and American friends who are parents encourage. But in Thailand? I'm not sure. The way that those other toddlers sat around and let their moms direct their hands up/down/around to emulate the instructor perfectly makes to think that Thai parents value something quite different in their toddlers.  And now I really wonder what Sadie's instructor was saying when he'd switch back to speaking Thai and be looking in her direction ...

Quotable Madeline: the existential edition

One of Madeline's goldfish is ailing. Frankly, he looks like he's been in a knife fight and sustained heavy wounds and an eye injury. The other night, Chris gently told Madeline that Curly the Fish was going to "go away" because he wasn't feeling very well anymore. 

Madeline asked, "Where is Curly going to go?"

"Well, up to the sky," responded her dad.

Madeline, our astute little girl, promptly questioned, "How? I don't think he can SWIM there!"