Under the Influence

Something you should know about La is that she was born a skeptic. She's easily weirded-out by anything and everything. She has never been one to 'go with the flow.' She questions everything. Especially when a doctor looks her in the eye and tells her "I promise it's not going to hurt."

That's usually when she screams bloody murder and tries to escape.

So, the dreaded tooth extraction that was supposed to take place on Friday the 13th was postponed until this morning. I had researched the technique that they use to extract the teeth without sedation, and it turns out that they often have to strap the child to the table using a restraint much like a straight-jacket. And knowing how La is (she tends to overreact a tiny bit once in a while), I am positive that they would have had to use this contraption during the procedure. And this process, as my mom puts it, undoubtedly would have RUINED HER FOR LIFE. 

The dentist told me that they could perform the procedure under 'conscious sedation' where they would basically give her something similar to Valium and then yank the teeth. She wouldn't be knocked out ... just, uh, loopy. So, I signed her up for this morning at 9:00.

We got to the hospital and met the doctor that would be performing the procedure. La took to him right away and started telling him all about her friends, her school, and her favorite Disney Princess. He showed her the big fish tank. She laughed when he told her a silly joke. They became pals. It was going remarkably well.

Until we got off the elevator and went into a room to have her blood pressure taken. The doctor grabbed one of the child-size blood pressure cuffs and said, "Don't worry La. This won't hurt a bit."

And that's when La screamed bloody murder and took off sprinting across the hospital.

Myself, two doctors and two nurses all ran after her, thereby causing a slight scene at Children's Memorial Hospital. We didn't catch her until she was all the way on the other side of the corridor. I tackled her and then sat on the floor in the middle of the hallway, holding her in my lap as she cried that she DOESN'T *sob* LIKE *sob* THIS *sob* DENTIST *sob* AT ALL!

They wheeled the blood pressure machine down the hall and the kind nurse explained that the blood pressure cuff is just like a big band-aid that gives your arm a little hug. After much coaxing and explaining and after each of the five adults surrounding her had put a cuff on our arms and she saw that we DIDNT DROP DEAD ON THE SPOT, she finally agreed to let the nurse take her blood pressure. Right there on the floor in the middle of the hallway. They also took the rest of her vitals on the floor in the middle of the hallway, since that's where she seemed to be the most, um, comfortable.

Then we proceeded to the room where the extraction would take place. 

I gave her the liquid sedative (aka: Princess Juice! Yum!) and we waited for it to kick in, which only took about ten minutes. When it was time to sit in the special dentist chair, La freaked out slightly and insisted that I squeeze my body into the chair with her. Thankfully, the dentist allowed me to do so. 

She was pretty upset, but was holding her emotions together for the most part. She wasn't resisting the doctor, but I still ended up having to lay on top of her, holding her arms down with my forearms and holding the sides of her head with my hands. I used my thumbs to close her eyes and I sang Mary Poppins and Disney Princess songs as loudly as I could while they stuck her poor gums with one of the biggest needles I've ever seen.

In this position, my eyes were about two-and-a-half inches from her mouth, and I almost started crying just watching the giant needle sinking into her precious little gums. The good thing was that La didn't seem to mind it too much. Then, just as I was hitting a high note in "So this is Love," and simultaneously pressing La's eyelids shut, the dentist grabbed the first tooth with plyers, twisted it and yanked it out. The next one came out seconds later. And we were done!

And that's when things got fun.

The drug caused La to act like a drunken college girl at her first frat party. She was swaying and laughing and uttering nonsensical phrases like, "Cold potatoes are staring at my head." and "Your eyes are the taste of candy."

I spent the next two hours of my life trying to keep La from running into walls, and trying to convince her that snow was not falling inside our living room. (She would shout SNOW! and then dive and try to catch imaginary snowflakes, and would invariably crash into our living room furniture. I told her that the flakes weren't real, and then she asked "If they're not real, then what are they?" I replied with, "They're just a figment of your imagination." So instead she shouted, "FIGMENT!!!" and dove for another flake.)

It's been an interesting day.

27 years ago today, my mother was in the worst pain of her life. And today, La and I celebrated it.

I woke up this morning and told La that she had better be on her best behavior. Of course she had to question why she would have to perform such an outrageously impossible act, and I told her, "because it's my birthday!" She frowned and then told me that she doesn't like it when it's my birthday.

Great!

I put on the internationally-recognized Distraught Mom Face and gave her the, "it makes mommy so sad that you don't like her birthday" speech. And it worked. I totally guilted her into being ecstatic about my birthday. I think she's said, "Happy birthday mom! I'm so GLAD it's your birthday!" about 49 times today.

We rode the bus downtown and spent the day at the Art Institute. We started out upstairs, meandering through Impressionist and Renaissance art. The latter genre featured plenty of nude women as subjects, and it took going through 3 galleries for La to stop gasping, pointing and loudly proclaiming, "boobies!" each time she saw an exposed breast.

She finally realized it was rude to shout that word in a world-class art museum, and whenever we would come across another revealed bosom, she would tap me on the leg and give me a big grin, a little nod and a knowing look while gesturing conspicuously at the painting.

That part of the museum was a bit above her maturity level, I think.

Then she started imitating the figures in the paintings. And that's when I stooped to her level and began photographing her in the act:

As I look at the above photo, it occurs to me that La may have misinterpreted this work of art. The subject is sitting on a bench and sewing a white piece of cloth. It seems La thought this woman was sitting on the loo taking care of business.

I took the above photo in honor of Grandma Lin, who loves this piece. (A Sunday on La Grande Jatte by Georges Seurat) La and I sat next to this painting while I explained the technique of Pointillism used to create this masterpiece. La immediately proclaimed that it's her favorite painting ever in the world.

After a few hours at the museum (yes, HOURS. La loved the place. Especially the kids area), La said, "time to go to your birthday party!" And I was like THIS WAS MY BIRTHDAY PARTY.

She looked at me blankly while her brain processed that bit of information. Then she responded, "When you get old, you just have boring birthday parties?"

Yes, La. When you reach the ripe old age of 27, you're SO OLD that you no longer care about cake and ice cream and pizza and Chuck E. Cheese's. You just want to go to the good ol' art museum and see what boobs looked like in 14th century Europe.

We finished our outing by walking next door to Millennium Park for some ice skating and hot cocoa.

It was a happy day spent with my favorite person in the world. It may have been my best birthday yet.

More La-Made Outfits

This ensemble is titled: The Cotton Candy Dalmatian.

Top: Baby Gap clearance rack | Skirt: Talbots Kids from Grandma Dale | Leggings: Baby Gap clearance rack | Boots: Gymboree

I call this one: Nature Vs. Disney Princess.

Top: H&M kids | Skirt: Cherokee brand from Target, size 6-12 months. Yes, she has been wearing this thing since she was born. | Leggings: Gymboree | Snow Boots: these came from hell who knows were. I can't remember. I do remember who bought them though. They light up and are adorned with Disney Princesses. They are my worst nightmare.

Officially pushing 30.

So, I completely forgot that Aunt M was coming over to cook lasagna tonight. Yesterday, I knew in my mind that she was planning on coming over, but somehow today I completely banished this thought from my mind and thought that I would be spending the evening with La, as usual, eating leftover pasta.

Well.

I picked La up from school at the normal time and walked home. I unlocked my door around 5:40 this evening, expecting to see my home as I left it. I walked in and immediately knew that something was wrong because the light in the entry-way was on. Then I saw a person standing in my living room.

I just about jumped out of my socks. 

I literally did a little hop and let out a little yelp. And then I realized that it was Aunt M, who had come over to make her famous lasagna in honor of my 27th birthday (which is happening this Sunday). How could I have forgotten? What a nice way to celebrate a birthday! Stuffing my face with my two favorite people in the world.

So, I quickly calmed my anxious nerves with a glass of prosecco (thanks Kate!) and allowed myself to relax a bit. I changed out of my dress clothes and into an old, beat-up Miami t-shirt and a worn-out pair of sweats. I moseyed around the house aimlessly drinking my wine, and finally Aunt M looked at me, unable to contain her secret any longer, and said that I might want to at least put a bra on, because we were having a couple of people over.

And that's when it occurred to me that I would really be celebrating my birthday tonight.

All I can say is that by the end of the evening our tummies were full of Aunt M's yummy lasagna and that we were all a little bit tipsy. But it was a good time (and THANK GOD Aunt M told me people were coming over because I might have killed her for letting me entertain guests in a braless, sweat-suited state. Especially when certain people showed up in jackets and neckties!).

I remember when 30 seemed old. Now it seems so incredibly young. 

I'm ready for 27. Another year to relish. Another year to fly right though, wishing it could last longer. Another year to be endlessly grateful for.

Another Style Rookie

My coworker Angela recently introduced me to a fashion blog written by a twelve-year-old. I was inspired by this girl and her passion for funk. And so was La, I think.

La has been picking out her own outfits for about a year and dressing herself for a few months now. So, I've decided to start posting photos of La's more creative outfits. 

Here we go:

Top: Crazy 8 bargain bin » Sweater: some store in Florida purchased by Grandma Dale » Skirt: Baby Gap a la Grandma Dale » Snowman Tights: Marshalls from Grandma Lin » Black Wedge Boots: Gymboree

Top: Crazy 8 » Skirt: Tommy Hilfiger Outlet » Tights: Crew Cuts from Aunt Molly » Boots: Nordstrom Rack from Grandma Lin

Blue Stripe Top: Baby Gap » Sweater Dress: Crazy 8 » Leggings: dollar bin at Crazy 8 » Boots: Baby Gap » Necklace: DISNEY WORLD!

Hancock Building by La

... And 10 seconds later the neighbors below were pounding on their ceiling.

After this weekend, I can no longer call myself a vegetarian

So, yesterday was Valentine's Day. But, I happened to celebrate the holiday on Friday night. What did I do in honor of this amorous occasion, you ask?

Well.

I put on my teeniest, tiniest, littlest, sexiest black dress and went out to dinner with my grandmother. Oh, and my aunt. And my mom and my sister. 

Muy romantico!

It was the best Valentine's Day I've ever had, to be honest.

We went to Tru — one of Chicago's finest restaurants. (which was only possible because Aunt Kathleen had gift cards. Woo hoo!) And of course we made the server take our picture, as if we were dining at TGI Friday's.

I ordered the prime beef tartare with parmesan crust and a golden egg. Which was REALLY a golden egg. Like, an egg with real gold leaf on it that you eat. 

RIDICULOUSLY AMAZING.

And then for dinner, I had the red snapper with a chardonnay reduction and bacon vinaigrette. Everyone's food was amazing and the service was out-of-this-world. Considering the company, the service and the quality of the food, it may have been the best meal that I've ever had.

Yesterday we shopped, and today we walked around town for a bit. La wore her new coat from mini-Boden, courtesy of Granny Lin. (Actually courtesy of Grandpa Dave, he just didn't know it till now)

She looks so grown up in it!

And then this afternoon we drove down to Hyde Park to meet Aunt M for lunch (she had to work today) ... and I had this:

If you're wondering, it's called Croque Monsieur, and it's basically a souped-up ham-and-cheese sandwich.

Magnifique!

I hope you all had a great Valentine's Day filled with as much love and meat as mine was.

Celebratory Sushi Night

Tonight we're enjoying some Torajiro Sushi, in celebration of the above-30-degree weather, Valentine's Day, and mostly! ... the fact that mommy doesn't owe the IRS any money for the 2008 tax year.

Hallelujah. Pass the wasabi.

Celeb Look-Alike

I distinctly remember giving birth to the child pictured above. It was almost five years ago, and I remember it well. I am quite certain that she is my own flesh-and-blood. 

But, the photo above gives me reason to wonder if I may have in fact stolen her from Kate Hudson.

They left and now I miss them.

La and I had the pleasure of spending this past weekend with Mandy and her cute-as-a-button boyfriend, Grant. They drove in from Cleveland on Friday evening and stayed through Sunday afternoon.

We crammed as much as we could into the weekend. First, we enjoyed a drink in the Signature Room, located on the 95th floor of the Hancock Building. 

The view was sensational. 

Then we hit up SushiSamba Rio, and migrated over to Kingston Mines (a down-n-dirty blues club). 

Twas awesome.

On Saturday, La fell in love.

It was sunny and beautiful with the temps near 60. We spent most of the day out shopping, and La could not get enough of Mandy's man. Grant was her knight in shining armor. Her prince who swooped in to whisk her away from those wretched stores to sit on the curb and eat Skittles.

That boy sure knows the way to a girl's heart.

We crammed so much in over the weekend (shopping on michigan, eating crepes, eating deep-dish pizza, walking around the zoo, playing Cranium, visiting the Lincoln Park Conservatory, jamming at a blues club, La falling out of her stroller into a mud-puddle, THE DISNEY STORE, a few cab rides, a bunch of train rides, some bus rides, ten bottles of wine, one shot of tequila, and lots of good food), that I was in need of a quiet respite from my overly-stimulating weekend.

What did I do?

Went to Disney on Ice with La and James (thanks for the tix James!). Nothing like thousands of shouting children twirling glow-in-the-dark spinning toys to wind one's self down after a busy weekend.

Time for bed.

Sinusitis Gone WILD

Sounds riveting, doesn't it?

Well, for Dr. Conley, who I had the distinct pleasure of meeting this morning, chronic sinusitis is every bit as exciting as a Rolling Stones concert.

I've never seen anyone get so revved up from discussing various forms of snot. 

I told Dr. Conley that I've had this chronic sinus problem for as long as I can remember. That I've been on rounds and rounds of high-dosage antibiotics multiple times over the past few years, and it has done squat for my nasal cavities. 

He nodded excitedly as I spoke, with a huge grin on his face.

He asked me if I had a neti pot, and I was like, "Duh, who doesn't?" ... and that's when his eyes lit up and he slapped his pen down on his desk in a fit of excitement. 

Neti pot make doctor very happy. Indeed.

He then took out a long, snake-like object and stuffed it into my left nostril. The snake thing had a mini camera on the end of it, and I was able to see the inside of my nasal passages. It was darn cool. I then realized why this man was so worked up. Sinuses are neat! He even showed me my vocal cords (The vocal cords only became visible when nearly 10 inches of the snake had been thrust into my head. The thought made me a bit queasy, but it was still cool to see.) 

We discovered that my passages are all inflamed. He suggested we do a quick CT-scan to get a better idea of what was going on with my sinuses. 

When the results of the CT-scan appeared on the screen, I thought Dr. C was about to pass out from sheer joy. He was all, "You see? THIS is why we do these CT-scans! Look at that! Just LOOK at that!!!"

And so I looked. It looked like blobs, much like when I had the sonogram done in my fifth month of pregnancy.

He looked at me as if I were from Mars. "Don't you see all that gray matter in your sinus cavities?" he continued. I told him, Yes! I can see it now! He went on to explain that all that gunk was not supposed to be there. In fact, it was very bad that it was there. He also pointed out that my septum is shaped like a lollipop instead of a nice even straight line. He also showed me that my passages to my nasal cavities on the left side are incredibly screwed up. He used those very words.

His suggestion? Opening all the passages up surgically and filing down my septum so that it's closer to the normal shape. This way, my sinus cavities will be able to clear themselves of the infection (right now, whatever is causing my problems is trapped in there).

And then he noticed my right eardrum.

I was like, "Oh yeah. I forgot to tell you that I don't have one of those." 

He said the hole in the membrane wasn't looking too good and that my inner ear is beginning to look like it's suffering from not having an eardrum to protect it.

SO ... I now have an appointment with an ear specialist who may be able to repair my eardrum during the same surgery. Two birds with one stone.

OH GOODY!

I think I'll probably have a black-and-blue face for a while afterward (since they're filing part of my nose bone off). At least it's not a serious procedure like heart or kidney surgery, but it's still invasive surgery. I'm a little nervous.

Oh! An update: La's dentist said that they may be able to give her a mild oral sedative that will make her a little "loopy" and more relaxed for her tooth pulling, but won't knock her out. I wonder if it's the same stuff David's dentist gave him. 

Could be quite interesting.

If La's reaction is anything like David's, I'll be tickled pink.

After numerous people e-mailed me this video, and James even linked to it in the comments, I had to post it. WARNING: The first time I watched this, I almost peed myself. 

The Young And The Toothless

The saga continues ...

The other day, La was on the phone with her dad while I busied myself on my computer. She stood next to me, pleasantly chatting with her pops. Suddenly she became very silent and pale, her eyes growing to the size of golf balls and her mouth dropping open in utter horror. 

Now, keep in mind that it does not take much to get this reaction out of La. For example, she exhibited the same behavior when I told her that Hannah Montana is really just Miley Cyrus in disguise. She also responds this way every time I venture toward her with a hairbrush.

I took the phone from La to find out what SHOCKING THING her father had said. I found that he had simply (and harmlessly) informed her that he was going to have his wisdom teeth removed in a few days. He stated that the dentist was going to extract a few teeth, not knowing the shade of green La was turning on the other end of the line. Turns out you just never know what's going to freak La out. And that did it.

For the next day or two, she would be playing with her barbies or watching a movie or licking a cookie batter spoon, and she would turn to me with those wide, worried eyes and loudly proclaim, "I just don't want to talk about daddy's teeth!" And I would be like, "Dude. I didn't say anything about your daddy OR his teeth, so let's just take a chill pill por favor."

As you may recall, La has had more than her share of mouth trauma in her almost-five-years of life, which may account for her tremendous fear of anything involving a tooth. 

WELL!

Last night, I noticed a puss-filled pimple-thing on her bottom gum. The sirens sounded in my head, but I remained calm and asked La to pull her bottom lip down (you would think she would let me touch her lip, but NO WAY JOSÉ) so that I could thoroughly examine The Monster Boil up-close. She reluctantly tugged on her bottom lip, revealing a huge red bump with a yellow center. I smiled and assured La that everything was hunky-dory and then dashed to my computer to Google the bejeebees out of the mysterious bump. And lo, as I feared, a pimple on the gum indicates an infection in the root of the tooth. 

So, I dressed La up in her Oompa-Loompa snowsuit this morning and walked five blocks in two-degree weather to make a surprise visit to the dentist. (that's one of the working mother's dilemmas that I have conquered. When La needs to go to the doctor — rather than sitting around until 9:00 a.m. when the doctor's office finally starts answering the phone, scheduling an appointment for later in the day and then sitting around waiting to go to the appointment — I just show up at the practice the minute they open the doors and insist that they see her ASAP. I usually throw in gruesome details using words like boil, rash, puss, or seepage. Those usually do the trick. Today, all I had to say was "pimple" and they squeezed us right in.)

La, of course, was less than thrilled to be at the dentist for the third time in six months. She kept saying, "Will it hurt mama?" and I kept replying with things like, "No way! They are so gentle here! The dentist is our friend!"

She had an X-ray taken, which she handled very maturely. This was partly because the technician let her sit on my lap while they took the picture. Before we entered the room, the nice lady asked me if I was pregnant (I was either looking a bit round today or this is standard protocol when radiation is involved), and La answered for me by saying, "Nope, my mama is all done being pregnant." I couldn't have said it better myself.

The X-ray indicated that her two bottom front teeth are dead at the root and need to be "extracted." That word was never audibly spoken by the dentist, only mouthed expressively behind La's back, while he simultaneously made a yanking motion in the air. I figure he took one look at La and knew that if she heard a word like that, IT WOULD BE ALL OVER. 

Upon hearing seeing this news, I chuckled. Yes, I laughed. In the horror of the moment, it was the only thing I could do. The doctor went on to explain that they would give her a local anesthetic (LOCAL. As in needle-to-the-gums) and that it would only take one minute to complete the procedure. Little did he know that the last time La had to get her throat cultured for strep, it took an entire 10 minutes and two full-grown adults restraining her to accomplish the feat.

After the appointment, I dropped her off at school and climbed aboard a bus, heading to work. On the bus, I began to panic. I called my mom. Bad idea. She panicked. She said something akin to "Of course! This procedure will take two minutes, but will ruin her entire life KARI!" I think I hung up on her.

I understand my mom's point though. If she's getting a local anesthetic, she will see everything that's going on. She will see the needle, and she will see the pliers as they enter her mouth. It will be traumatic. I'm going to call the office tomorrow and see if they'll give her some sort of tranquilizer or laughing gas or something that will make her less of a complete spaz.

I was instructed by the dentist not to warn her or even mention needles, bright lights or anything related to the upcoming tooth-pulling. That I should just let them handle the prep-talk and the restraining that day. So, I'm not mentioning it at all in front of La.

The procedure is taking place on Friday, the 13th. (Yes. Friday the freaking 13th) I figure we have 9 full days to extract those puppies on our own. They're already loose as it is, and I keep reminding La to wiggle them as much as she can and if she gets the urge, to go ahead and yank on them a little. She asks me why on earth she would do this, and I respond with, "Trust me. You will thank me if you can get those teeth out. And you'll thank the tooth fairy who will undoubtedly leave a crisp 20-dollar bill underneath your pillow if you succeed in this task."

She's finally asleep, so I think I'll creep in her room and see if I can loosen them up some more while she sleeps.

Empty Bowls

La, Aunt M and I spent the afternoon today out in Oak Park, glazing pottery for Empty Bowls, a charity event that helps raise money to fight hunger. It's a neat idea. Artists and students spend the weeks leading up to the event creating the bowls and glazing them beautifully. The goal for the Oak Park event this year is to create 1,000 bowls. Visitors who attend the event may choose a bowl, which is then filled with soup donated by area restaurants. The cost is $15, and visitors leave with an original piece of artwork. 

The Empty Bowls event is open to the public, and will take place on Friday, February 27th at 6:00 pm at Oak Park/River Forest High School.