Trouble Below

The other day during a diaper change, Brady began writhing around making it nearly impossible to clean him. I thought I was just taking too long and didn't think much more of it...until the next diaper change: his nether region was beet-red and he was clearly in a lot of discomfort. He kept yelling, "Hot! Hot!" when I wiped him, so I knew there was an issue. In the day of the Internet, it's entirely too easy to access information that worries a mother to the point where she can't sleep. This is what happened after I researched that "red, swollen testicles could be a sign of an internal infection that may need to be treated with emergency surgery." It was that little ditty, along with the possibility of "sterility if not treated immediately," that freaked me out. Needless to say, Brady and I made an impromptu trip to the pediatrician on Wednesday morning. Before I get into the diagnosis and treatment, I have to share a funny story...

When we got to the pediatrician's office, no one else was in the waiting room. So when we walked through the doors, we were the center of attention. Brady took this as an invitation to perform. He greeted everyone with his million-dollar-smile, a wave, and a very vocal, "Hiiiii!" Everyone, of course, ooo'ed and awww'ed and he soaked it all in. He rattled off all of the words he knows, including recent favorites such as "sunshine" and "outside." He then began pointing to and naming the colors of the floor tiles (I didn't even know the kid knew the word "purple" existed...). Every woman in the place was packed in the check-in windows to get a glimpse of Brady who, at this point, is staggering about like a drunken sailor laughing maniacally. One woman said, "Brady! You are so adorable!" He stopped what he was doing just long enough to point to his head, making sure that she was also aware of how smart he is. The kid is crazy and I love it!

Anyway, once in the exam room, he wasn't so excited. The doctor had his diaper off for literally four seconds, but he wailed the entire time. When she was through with the exam, I told Brady, "It's all done," and through tears and his sad lip, he repeated, "All done" so pathetically that I wanted to cry, too! The final prognosis: diaper BURN. I instantly felt like a horrible mother who allowed her child to sit in his own waste for hours at a time, but the doctor assured me that Brady's case is due to excessive wiping and cleaning. He had been pooing a lot, so of course he was wiped a lot. I guess too much maintenance can actually be a bad thing. The treatment was simple, but time-consuming: we had to later on a really thick paste and then cover it in powder, and rather than wipe him clean, we had to run warm water over the soiled area and pat dry. To do this required a trip to the tub for each diaper change; when the water hit the mixture of paste and powder (that we were forbidden to wipe off for three days!), we had one big gloppy mess! But, we followed the doctor's orders and I am happy to report that Brady's "boys" are all better! He thoroughly enjoyed his daily mini-baths; I personally did not.

 In other, unrelated Brady news, we went to our local hardware store last night to grab a few things to finish his big boy room (sidebar: the furniture SHOULD be delivered next week! Whoo!), and to our surprise, the owner's cat was running around! Brady was in heaven. He wanted that cat in the worst way, but it kept running from him (I can't imagine why...). He was relentless, though, and raced after it yelling, "CAT! MEEEOOOWWW!" thinking that if he spoke its language, it would surrender. He was not successful at tracking the poor kitty, but it was hilarious to watch. Every time he saw a person, he would say, "Cat" hoping that they would aid him in his search. We left the store "catless," but Brady meowed the whole way home.

My belly has officially "popped" and regular pants are quickly becoming a thing of the past. I can't help but wonder if it's the baby or my addiction to everything edible. Anyway, maternity pants are still a bit big and slide down, so nothing fits me well except sweatpants. I'd be more than happy to rock sweatpants every day, but I do have to go into public every now and again and unlike my husband, I don't think Stephanie in Her Sweatpants is suitable for the public eye. Especially because I have to wear them so low it looks like I'm in need of a diaper change myself...

Speaking of my wonderful husband, Happy Belated 32nd Birthday to Zach! I didn't post on Nov. 9th, so he didn't get any "blog love" for his big day. He actually had an in-service on the 9th so he was able to come home and eat lunch with me and the boy. We gave him his gifts then and that evening, he and I enjoyed an adults-only dinner at Hoffstadt's in Oakmont. It was beyond yummy and because it was Zach's birthday and we are expecting, our waiter/father of three gave us dessert on the house. Is there really a better birthday gift than that?! Oh carrot cake, how I love thee.

Speaking of birthdays, my 29+1 is tomorrow and Derek's big day is Monday. Not that it's in honor of us birthday kids (even though I'm kinda pretending it is!), we're all headed to Kim's parents' in Freeport for a big family feast today. Gram and Pap, Nonno and Nonna, Grandma Barb, Uncle Derek, and Kim's whole side of the family will be there. I made the orzo salad this morning, but all I can think about eating is one of my mother-in-law's famous chocolate chip cookies. If you've never had one, your life isn't complete. They're the size of my head and touched by angels or something--they're AMAZING. That was a not-so-subtle hint to Terri, a faithful blog reader :-)

"Help! I'm afraid Mom is going to eat me, too!"