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Latest ER Trip: Nursemaids Elbow

June 15, 2012 by momindcity 11 Comments

It has been a week, hasn’t it y’all?!

Yesterday was supposed to be an easy day: Lira’s last day of pre-K (a half day), Zana spending the morning at daycare, and Dave and I working until noon. The car was already packed for our drive to Chicago; what could go wrong? I’ll tell you what: a trip to the ER.

When I got Zana out of her crib this morning, she winced in pain. I tried to get her dressed, more crying– and not just the cranky, sleepy kind. This was a painful cry. “It’s hurting, Mommy. It’s hurting.” Aren’t those your least favorite words? Well besides “uh-oh,” of course.

I figured out the pain had something to do with her arm when she couldn’t hold her own milk cup. Even putting on her favorite dress brought her to tears. I gave her some Tylenol and considered my options. The pediatrician? Urgent Care? The ER? I decided on ER because they have X-Ray equipment and I was pretty sure we’d need it.

The only time Zana stopped crying was when she held her arm completely still, and propped it up on something. I called Dave to let him know the deal, and I’m pretty sure he thought I was overreacting. Was I? At the next stop light I turned around and tried to hold her hand: more screaming. “You’re doing the right thing,” I reminded myself.

When we got to the ER, I walked her inside with her with her tiny, limp arm propped up on my shoulder. You know something’s wrong when she doesn’t even want to push the buttons on the elevator.

This was our second time at Children’s Hospital. Our first visit happened after Zana fell on the playground and had a golf ball-sized lump on her forehead. Both hospital trips have left me less-than-impressed. Nobody was very friendly or concerned, and they probably should be– it is an ER, after all. Plus, there’s a ridiculous amount of security (oh DC, how I love thee). Why do I have to wait in line to get a badge letting people know I’m there for the ER? Isn’t the crying baby with the gimpy arm enough?

As I asked myself why on earth I decided to come back here again, I got the reminder I needed… the doctors. The doctors at Children’s Hospital are a game changer. Today, a doctor looked at Zana in the waiting room within 20 minutes of us arriving. He immediately knew what was wrong: Nursemaids Elbow, also known as radial head subluxation (but that sounds terrible so we’ll stick with other one).

Wikipedia describes nursemaids elbow as “a dislocation of the elbow joint caused by a sudden pull on the extended pronated arm, such as by an adult tugging on an uncooperative child, or swinging the child by the arms during play.” Uncooperative child? Check. Swinging child by the arms during play? Check. So what I’m understanding is that it’s somehow my fault that my baby girl is in the hospital. Awesome.

Fortunately for my mommy-guilt complex, the doctor told me that this injury can also happen when a child is sleeping– like, if they roll over on their arm the wrong way. The treatment is a quick “pop” back into place and they’re good as new. Unless the “pop” doesn’t work… in which case we’ll need x-rays and the whole 9 yards.

Luckily, it worked! One minute, Zana was refusing a sticker because she couldn’t move her hand to grab it – the next she was high five-ing every Children’s employee, patient and security guard who walked by! A nurse gave her some Motrin and we were on our way. I couldn’t believe how fast all of it happened. There was still time left for me to make an appearance at work– which is a good thing, because Zana had an important meeting to lead.

We could only stay at work for an hour, then left to pick up my new Kindergartner, pack the car and start our journey west. All of this, before lunch…

Gone Postal: The National Postal Museum

June 12, 2012 by momindcity 2 Comments

I’m not sure what day it is anymore, thanks to a sick 2 year old, but I’m pretty sure it’s not Sunday. That’s when we went to the National Postal Museum, and it seems like weeks ago. Since then, I’ve changed Zana’s sheets at least 3 times, spent a couple of sleepless nights, and made it to work (physically, but definitely not mentally) once or twice.

In celebration of things getting back to “normal” around here, let’s revisit our last normal day: Sunday Funday!

We started at our favorite coffee shop, only this time we brought friends. That means there were six people in the coffee shop basement instead of the usual four– packed house! They had so much fun, they’re going to make it a weekly thing too. Trust me people, I don’t lie about awesomeness.

We enjoyed our lattes and planned our walk past Union Station to the Postal Museum, another favorite of ours that’s never busy.

I love it because it’s small enough that I (usually) don’t lose my kids, but big enough for them to wear themselves out.

Highlights include:

airmail planes hanging from the ceiling
a railway car used to transport mail (the old toilet in the corner of the car is a big hit in our family)
a tractor trailer cab (it’s meant for kids, but since it’s Dave’s dream to be a trucker, he usually monopolizes that exhibit)
the “spooky forest” that leads to a stage coach where you can pretend you’re in the Pony Express
the newest exhibit called “Systems at Work.” It takes you through what happens when you drop a letter in the mailbox (the kids couldn’t get enough mail sorting)

You can see all of these things and feel very safe at the same time. Why? Because this museum has the highest security guard-to-museum patron ratio of any place I’ve ever been. As long as you’re not a crying one year old who refuses to walk through the metal detector alone, or a seven year old who turns around on the escalator, you probably won’t be bothered. Oh, and don’t walk away from your stroller either. They will find you.

I’m guessing the security guards are just bored, because the museum is always empty. Surprisingly, people aren’t beating down the doors to get into the philatelic palace. But hey, their loss is our gain!

We ended the date with lunch and gelato at Union Station, followed by playtime in Nana’s front yard.

If someone would have warned me about Zana’s impending sinus infection, we probably could have skipped some of this and rested up for the all-nighter. Did you know sinus infections can cause vomiting? Me neither…

Date Night: Spent Too Much, Drank Too Much

June 11, 2012 by momindcity 4 Comments

It was a special Saturday for us this weekend… our annual date night! Maybe we go on a date more than once a year, but not a fancy one where Dave puts on actual pants and there’s candlelight involved.

We decided to check out Acqua Al 2, a Tuscan ristorante that opened a location on the Hill about two years ago. We asked Poppi (Dave’s dad) to watch the girls but, since he can’t be trusted, Nana and Aunt Dana came over too. The girls couldn’t wait for us to leave so they could start a dance party (oh, I can’t wait until they’re in high school).

We took a romantic stroll through Lincoln Park to the restaurant. And by romantic I mean, I complained the whole time that Dave was walking too fast. When we got there, we were taken to a tiny, candlelit table near the back. I sat beneath a plate decorated by Congresswoman Pelosi– DC really knows how to set the ambiance, don’t they?

“Let’s get this party started with a bottle of wine!” I shouted a little too enthusiastically.

We ordered a bottle of Nobile di Montepulciano and, suddenly, the date became fun (whew).

They brought bread and olive oil without any cheese or spices, which is never ideal. But I got over it because, once we ordered the Specialita, the food didn’t stop coming for the next two hours. First the three salads, then five pastas, then (the highlight) three to-die-for steaks. It’s funny how I can go from vegan cleanse to triple steak dinner in only a week. We got the five-dessert plate but decided to stop before the final cheese course.

During all of this, we managed to have some wonderfully adult conversation. Ever wonder what parents talk about when they’re out on dates by themselves? I always do, so I’ll share. We talked about the meaning of life, how much we adore each other and how to fix everything that’s wrong with the world. Just kidding. Here’s what really went down at our table: me making fun of Dave for moving his arms like a pterodactyl, him telling me how drinking makes me less of a nag, and lots of discussion about whether the pasta was homemade or Barilla. We also, of course, talked about the girls. It’s like going out with people from work and trying not to mention work. We couldn’t help it.

Date Night — Look, Our Pics Were on the Placemat!

The bill was $200. Two hundred dollars?!?! I mean, the bottle of wine was $70, but I’m not sure what else happened. I suppose we could have been much more economical about it. Like, maybe if we just got a salad and some pasta? Of course, we could cut out the wine, but what kind of a date would that be?

Thoughts on the meal itself: Everything was good, but the steak was exceptional: one was in a balsamic reduction, one in peppercorn cream sauce and one on a bed of arugula topped with parmesan. I, personally, didn’t love the desserts and ate brownies when I got home (don’t judge).

We walked (ok, stumbled) back home and thanked Nana and Poppi for making it all possible. Can’t wait to start planning our next date… 2013 here we come!

The Cupboard: It’s Not Just for Crack Pipes

June 9, 2012 by momindcity Leave a Comment

Sometimes, despite my best efforts, I’m tardy to the party.

Such is the case with “The Cupboard,” a convenience store on 15th and East Capitol on the Hill.

I walk by this store every day and have never been inside, mainly because there are so many other convenience stores on 15th St where I can buy things like blunts, rolling papers, and Mad Dog 20/20. I do remember The Cupboard when it was the DC Express Mart, and figured the new name was just window dressing for another ghetto bodega. Nine out of ten people who walk out of a convenience store on 15th Street are holding a beverage in a paper bag… and it’s not organic milk.

15th St Gem — One of many gems on 15th St NE

This brings me to how I finally decided to try The Cupboard. We were out of milk for Zana (again), and have been planning for two days now to go buy some. (I’m lucky Dave’s mom can’t find things on the Internet, because I’m pretty sure she’d call child protective services on us for that.) We got her a hot chocolate at Starbucks this morning and were hoping her dairy quota was met until after naptime, but she really wanted some milk..

Dave: I’ll run to Safeway when she falls asleep.
Me: She’s going to scream about milk and not fall asleep until she gets some.
Dave: No she won’t, she’s fine (while watching a soccer game and ignoring a screaming Zana)
Me: I’m walking to the corner store to get some.
Dave: The Bella Market?? Are you looking for crack pipes or organic milk?
Me: Crack pipes– duh. No, I’m going to The Cupboard. Caroline says it has good stuff.
Dave: I bet you they won’t have it either.

I knew there was something different about this place the second I walked in. For one thing, there was no bullet proof glass between the cashier and me. Also, not only was there organic 2% milk, but there was also organic 1%, organic skim and organic whole. I took a quick walk through the metal racks and saw Vita Coco (my favorite post-workout beverage), Spring Mill Bread, Green Mountain Coffee and quite the selection of wines and microbrews. Where has this place been all my life?

I paid $5.99 for a half gallon of milk (ouch) and happily walked home to hear Dave say “you were right.” I should probably mention (for the non-DC readers) that groceries are generally more expensive here. The same milk at Harris Teeter is about $4.50. Will I regularly buy milk there? Probably not. But will I start frequenting The Cupboard for my last minute needs and forgotten items? Absolutely. I will make it my business to go there often and hope that my neighbors do the same. And don’t worry about missing the old school convenience store experience. The Cupboard is wedged between a barber shop and Hong Kong Carry-Out, with its requisite bullet-proof glass. You’ll still get to pass by all of your favorite characters enjoying their malt liquor outside.

So here’s what I learned: if you want Fruit Barrels (think florescent colors and foil tops) and Funions, there’s no need to worry. But if you want something more, don’t take as long as I did to stop by The Cupboard. You will be glad that you did.

WooHoo, Party at the Biker Barre!

June 7, 2012 by momindcity 2 Comments

Today was a big day for me; today, I am officially free from pins, casts, stitches, and– most importantly– exercise restrictions. You wouldn’t think that a broken wrist would impact so many parts of life, but my doctor said that walking was the only exercise I could do during the healing process. No running, no Zumba, no square dancing (as if), and no yoga.

Since April 13, I’ve followed those orders. And during the past two months, I’ve managed to gain 10 pounds. I wonder how much I would have gained if I hadn’t done the vegan cleanse! So when the doctor gave me the go-ahead this morning, I immediately started plotting how to punish my body back into shape. First on the agenda: spinning. I have never been spinning (spun, spinned?) before, but I’ve seen people come out of those classes and that’s what I want to feel like. Legs wobbly, dripping with sweat and ready to vomit. Fun, right?!

A friend asked me to join her at a biker bar, and I immediately accepted– picturing a place like this where I could meet her for a beer after spinning:

But alas, she really meant Biker Barre, a new studio on the Hill that specializes in spinning and ballet-inspired fitness classes. We signed up for the 7:45 and I decided to walk the mile to class– these pounds aren’t going to melt off on their own! My friend arrived wearing a Camelback (which terrified me a little) and carrying an extra pair of padded biker shorts (which terrified me a lot). She told me to change so that my butt wouldn’t hurt “as much.” I told her I have plenty of padding back there, but she just laughed and pointed to the changing room.

Wearing my new, cut-off-your-circulation biker shorts and looking hella sexy, I walked into the dark room. The instructor explained how to adjust the bike– the seat moves forward and backward, up and down, and so do the handlebars. I hoped I wouldn’t need handlebars much since it still hurts to use my wrist. She turned off the lights, turned up “Born to Be Wild” (really) and proceeded to perform for the next 45 minutes. This instructor also happens to be the owner of the studio, and she is a rock star. Seriously, I would pay money to see her in concert dancing, singing and working the room (oh wait, I did pay money to do that). I knew I was supposed to take it easy as a beginner, but let’s be honest, I’m too competitive for that. I worked hard enough that I wanted to toss my cookies, and then took it down a notch to make sure that I didn’t; you can’t embarrass yourself like the first time you meet people! I like to save that for our second date.

When it was all over, Rock Star Lady gave us all a cold, lavender-infused towel– just like the one they give you at the end of Bikram yoga. Is that a thing now? It’s definitely my favorite part of either class. I walked out of the dungeon (classroom?) and into the light looking like I’d gotten run over by a truck. As I headed home– in my friend’s car because there was no way I could walk home after that — I took a moment to be thankful. Thankful for her cushy car seats, thankful to be able to sweat for a change, and thankful that the torture was over– at least until tomorrow.