My 2011 Memorial Day Weekend has been playing nurse Ki to a sick baby Skylar.

A common cold that was checked last week and all was well unfortunately turned in to Bronchiolitis this week requiring round-the-clock oxygen and a Nebulizer not to mention antibiotics, a decongestant, and infant Ibuprofen (that's for the two new front teeth that are coming in. Great timing, right?)

I think my last three days have gone something like this (but with serious sleep deprivation, it's all kind of a blur) - Nebulize, administer the plethora of medicines, make baby food and give a bottle, keep "cupping" his back to loosen phlegm, apply new re-adhesive Band-aids and adjust oxygen tubing in nose while trying not to trip over the 50-foot cord attached to a giant oxygen tank in the living room, do laundry, change sheets and crib bumper, clean and fill humidifier, love on Skylar, remove tubing to bathe him, put tubing back on as he thrashes about, soothe his wimpers away, wake to a 1 a.m. and 4 a.m. alarms to Nebulize all over again and oh, try to find time to pick up the house, get to the grocery store and Target, help the landlords make repairs to the house, and try to get Skylar out for some fresh air.

So yes, I'm going on little sleep and lots of anxiety (it's hard to sleep when I'm worried the tubes have come dislodged from his nose - they had on a couple of occasions - and just plain troubled by his cries that are muffled by juicy gurgles that could send him to the hospital with pneumonia if I'm not diligent with his treatments.

But on our third visit to the doctor's on Sunday morning (yes the pediatrician on call opened the office just to check Skylar) I got the go-ahead to take him off oxygen and to Nebulize every six rather than every four hours. All good news and all going in the right direction.

I say this honestly, but not once have I felt sorry for myself that I missed out on camping with Tim, Dax, and the grandparents. Not once am I sorry I couldn't attend a social BBQ or partake in typical Memorial Day activities.
For so long I've struggled with not having a full comprehension of what I'm "suppose" to be doing with my life. Feelings of inadequacies have always haunted my thoughts. But this weekend solidified just how important it was for me to be there 100% for my boy - to love him well, to stay strong, and to be competent as his hospice nurse (i.e. like trying to absorb a quick lesson from the Apria Healthcare guy delivering oxygen tanks to my door at 10:30 p.m. when I was going on only four hours of sleep from the night before. Um, could you repeat that again, please?!).

In all the isolation brought on by his sickness there were amazingly sweet moments between us - his over-zealous splashes in the tub that left my face dripping with sudsy water, all those skin to skin hugs, watching him wave to inanimate objects in the house, and chasing his naked bum around the bed as he tried to flee in a fit of giggles. And he said my name, mama, more this weekend than he's ever said before.

Sure my needs took a backseat for the past three days - I barely had time to eat and yes, I just plain stunk from a lack of proper hygiene. But like those in the workforce who receive satisfaction from a job well done when they've landed a new sales account or can feel a sense of accomplishment after delivering a well-choreographed power-point presentation, I too feel like I've accomplished so much when I see my boy improving day by day. To see him get some color back to his cheeks, to note an increased energy level and appetite, higher Pulsox numbers, bigger smiles and babbles, more restful sleep, and fewer coughs.

This afternoon as he was standing at the coffee table beating it like a drum, he looked up at me smiling with his tongue, in all its silliness, sticking out to one side. I felt like he was saying thank you mama.

Oh baby, it was MY pleasure.

This is a story about vanity. And about one very sweet husband who helped me through it.
The other day while shopping in one of those big box stores, I was picking up some baby bath products when I decided to check out the different brands of hair dye a few aisles over. Yup, I was finally fed up with the skunk streak in the back of my head that with every sleepless night and stressful day was just growing bigger. It was time to cover up those silver threads with an $8 box of soft medium brown L'Oreal Preference.
As I was trying to decide how dark I needed to go to bring back that youthful head of hair, I felt like everybody was looking at me. Ah, the poor woman, they were saying, she must be . . . old! Of course they were minding their own business and probably struggling with their own vanity issues, but I felt like all eyes were on me as I perused my choices.
Now mind you this box of L'Oreal sat on a shelf above my bathroom sink for nearly three weeks because I was still in denial about having a "graying" problem. But last night after the kids had gone to bed I asked Tim if he wouldn't mind being my hair stylist for the night. I thought he'd balk but he surprised me with a "sure, why not, I have nothing else to do." Cool. With the solution mixed, he went to town meticulously turning gray back in to brown.
Having my scalp massaged and my tresses tendered, gossipy talk for my "new" stylist just naturally oozed out of me. Usually Tim hates Hollywood hoopla or any details about the drama going on in my friends' lives but because he was in his zone if you will, he joined in.
Before I knew it, I was ready to rinse, condition, and dry my hair. When Tim grabbed the blow dryer from me because he didn't like how I was drying it out, I had to laugh out loud. "Oh my gosh Tim, I think you're enjoying yourself!"
We were both pleased with the results. I feel grateful to have a husband who wants me to feel beautiful inside and out and who is confident enough in his own virile masculinity to show me his feminine side.
(I haven't broken the news to him that from now on, he'll have to dye my hair every six to eight weeks!)

I waited on two older ladies the other night at Augustine Grill. They sat at table 9 - a pretty two-top table by the corner windows. I introduced myself and per usual, they commented on what an interesting name I had. In turn, one of the women told me her name was Freddy and that like my short name, hers was not a nickname either. We immediately clicked.
I took good care of them throughout the night. I noticed that they splurged on dinner, not holding back on calories and decadence. And when I suggested a dessert they said they shouldn't but then they went ahead and ordered our delicious homemade butterscotch bread pudding and ate every last bite. They stayed long after their dessert was finished engrossed in conversation like best girlfriends do.
But it was after they had gotten up to leave that I learned from Evelyn why they were out that evening. While Freddy was primping in the bathroom, Evelyn shared with me that they had been friends for nearly half their lives. She told me that Freddy's husband was living in a nursing home and that he was dying. And then as her eyes welled up she went on to say that she had lost her husband five and a half years ago to pancreatic cancer - the cancer that kills so quickly. She explained that years before he had battled melanoma which had moved to the lungs, surviving it and living another 20 odd years. But the pancreatic cancer got him in his late 70's leaving this lovely lady widowed and devastated.
I realized that this dinner was for Freddy. That night she needed her friend's sympathetic ear. She needed Evelyn's love and support and mostly she needed a friend who would understand what it was like to be loosing a husband.
Freddy came out of the restroom unaware that I had been filled in on her story. Here was this spunky older woman still hip with her choppy blonde haircut and red leather jacket obviously in very good health herself about to be widowed and on her own. Through her spryness I could see the sadness. It was there underneath her red lipstick smile. I just wanted to give her a hug but I didn't want her to know we'd been talking. Instead I laid a hand on Freddy's shoulder, telling them to take good care and to come back to see us again soon.
After they left I felt overwhelmingly sad. I went and sat down at the bar with my boss Anna who I knew would want to hear about this particular table. We talked about how no one is immune to death and dying, that we will all experience it with our partners. Depressing. But as I explained to Anna, even in this very dark time for Freddy there was one thing that was light and beautiful and uplifting - her dear friendship with Evelyn.
It made me realize how much I need my girlfriends and how lucky I feel to still remain close with so many of them. It's my girlfriends who pick me up when I'm feeling my saddest. They have been there to empathize and analyze and to help me sort through the messy chaos that is life.
Whenever I get off the phone with Annie or Corinne or Emily or Holly or Faith or Kate or Susan or Dawn or Julia or Nik, or Anna, Carole, Lisa, Melisa, Wendy or Sally, I always feel rejuvenated and clear-headed and mostly, I feel like I can face whatever darkness has come my way. I'm healthier and happier to have these women in my life. I don't know where I'd be without them. I'm pretty sure Freddy and Evelyn feel the same way.

Here are a few more of my favorite things:

For babies: I just discovered the BEST diaper rash cream. It's called Dr. Smith's Diaper Ointment with zinc oxide. It's sold at Walgreens. Bye bye Butt Paste, Mustela, and Desitin - this one tops them all.

For toddlers: Dax has been loving a series of books called, An If you Give book including If You Give a Mouse a Cookie, If You Give a Moose a Muffin, If You Give a Pig a Pancake, etc. by Laura Numeroff and illustrated by Felicia Bond. They are so much fun and they teach kids full-circle reasoning while picking up the concept of cause and effect. They capture how a toddler thinks and responds and to them, it all makes perfect sense all the time!

For mamas: Ok, I'm loving the new Revlon Just Bitten lip ($7)stain in Frenzy. I'm not a lipstick wearing girl so this has been perfect for having color that actually stays on for hours and hours. I just reapply the chapstick end and it brings back the luster. And I'm also not a foundation wearing kind of girl but I've now discovered the perfect tinted spf 15 moisturizer that goes on like a light foundation and evens out my ruddy skin. It's called VitaZing by Origins and it blends with any skin color. As soon as it goes on, it starts matching ones own unique skin tone. I'm hooked. ($37.50)

I bet everyone of you reading this blog knows someone who has a "doctor's complex", right? You know the type. They freely dish out unsubstantiated medical advice they read on-line and because they got it off the Internet, well, it must be true. Or worse, they try to cure your head cold, skin rash, or heart condition with herbal tinctures and high levels of one vitamin or another. (Now we're treading in dangerous waters.)
Really, moms are the biggest culprit. We spend so much time trying to make our babies' boo boos go away that we think we can cure cancer too. I'm the first to admit that I appreciate an old fashion panacea to make whatever I have go away but when a friend or a family member is adamant about how much Vitamin D I should take or how I should treat full-blown mastitis, I quickly start to tune them out. Because I know what they're doing. Most often, they're regurgitating information they found on a random Internet website or an article they read in Town & Country. Thanks but no thanks. Because the web is right at our fingertips and because we've all gotten so good at surfing it, we are starting to see ourselves as experts in fields we know absolutely nothing about and that's scary. We read and then we pass these unsubstantiated bits of knowledge on to our peers. But who says what we read is medically sound? The thing is we're bias ourselves. We read what we want to read from those who we like the most.
So during this horrible cold and flu season, I've learned to take others' unsolicited doctoring with a grain of salt. I smile and say, hmmmm, maybe I'll try that, and then I pick up my cell phone and call my internist.

Skylar Drake turns six months old today. Happy Half Year birthday chunky monkey! For all my family and friends who read my blog regularly, I wanted to let you know what our big Sky has been busy doing.

1. While on his back, Skylar grabs both feet and rocks from side to side until he's finally on his stomach and then he rocks back to Happy Baby yoga pose!

2. Sucks his thumb.

3. When on his tummy, he can push up so high on his forearms that his head clears the co-sleeper. We've now moved him to the crib!

4. Can successfully grab at all the hanging toys on his Jungle Play Mat (on loan to us from our dear friend Dawn), make them rattle, swing and dance. And everything goes in to his mouth.

5. Can sit on his own unsupported but because he's so big, he sometimes starts to cant forward and when he finds his toes, they go right in his mouth.

6. Has a late afternoon snack of DHA-fortified infant oatmeal, and either mashed banana, garnet yams, or avocado as a side dish. He'll be trying applesauce today.

7. Skylar points with his index finger at nothing in particular.

8. Is really trying to talk. The other day I said, "thank you" to Dax for turning off the outdoor faucet and a second later I swear I heard Skylar trying to say the same thing. Whatever he said it sounded like thank you. He also says "hi". No joke. He does.

9. When crying to be picked up, he has said "ma" and "mama" and Tim's pretty sure that he's also heard him say "da".

10. If you ask Skylar where mama is, he looks to find me. If you ask him where dada is, he looks right at Tim, and he does this for Daxie and our dog Kodi Bear, so Sky knows who his family is!

11. When you come toward him with a diaper, he lifts his legs. What a helpful little guy.

12. Dax can get Skylar to grunt out a deep, hearty belly laugh. Dax has nicknamed Skylar "Noonie" and "Pooping Machine".

13. When you say "kiss?" he opens his mouth for one, especially when Kodi walks by because he knows he'll get a nice wet one from his furry friend.

14. When I ask if he wants a bath, he gets very animated and starts punching and kicking with arms and legs. Same goes for "neh" "neh" (breast milk) and when I ask if he wants his oatmeal.

15. Can palm his bottle for a short bit but he isn't quite holding it on his own yet.

16. Is loving the Rec Center pool.

17. Coos along to songs on the car radio.

18. His pediatrician says it looks like Sky's two bottom front teeth are about to come in. He also says that at 90% for weight, 90% for height and 96% for head circumference, we've got a very healthy baby boy.

19. Aside from getting fussy when hungry or tired, Skylar is such a happy, laid-back baby. We adore him.

I want to dedicate my next blog to some funny (and frustrating!) toddler antics. One glace at this list and you might think I never have my eye on Dax but somehow he manages to pull these escapades off in a matter of minutes!

1. While the red load was washing, Dax manged to open the dryer door, stand up on its lip, grab the partially opened and brand new bottle of Downey softener, and proceed to dump its entire contents into the wash cycle.

2. Flushing a pair of small nail clippers down the toilet.

3. Getting in to a giant tub of Vaseline and smearing it ALL over his face, his bed, and the carpets. Oh what fun it was to clean up, but his skin was as smooth and silky as a newborn's bottom!

4. Dropping DaDia's beloved snow globe on the living room floor and then not owning up to it. He continued playing as if nothing bad had happened. So naughty!

5. Finding Dax sitting in the middle of the kitchen up to his elbow in a brand new jar of all-natural creamy peanut butter. There were pools of it around his entire body and he just smiled and said, "Look mama!"

6. Dressing up in mama's headband (he actually got it on right) and beaded clutch purse and telling me he was going shopping for turkey. (And just to set the record straight, he prefers playing with monster trucks and tractors!)

7. Smearing washable finger paint ALL over his playhouse with his good friend AJ. They even managed to get it on the fuzzy rocking horse.

8. Left alone for 10 minutes to play together upstairs, Dax gets into the shower and AJ keeps turning it on and off. Dax is soaked and both boys are giggling uncontrollably.

9. Lifting Skylar out of his vibrate seat and nearly toppling over from the weight of the chunky monkey.

10. Finding Dax standing on the coffee table launching himself through the air onto the couch.

11. Getting in to the chewing gum in the center console of the car and leaving wads of it for us to find.

12. Taking himself to his potty, he later yells for me to come look at the "18-wheeler" he had pooped out. Lordy, it was enormous.

More to come . . .