We have survived round two of the Holiday Marathon. Christmas Day went well, with only a few snags.

Last night was rough – Cordy was overtired from being up too late. I’ve never understood being overtired, probably because I never pass up a chance for sleep. But apparently being overtired means that you’re too tired to sleep, and so every hour Cordy was awake, shrieking for us to rescue her from her crib prison. It finally ended around 3am and she slept until 7am.

This morning, we got more bad news. My mom stayed with us last night and she planned to get up with Cordy this morning. However, when Cordy woke up, mom came in and told us that she had been up since 4am with the stomach flu, and she couldn’t take Cordy. No big deal for us to get up, but sadly my mom missed the entire Christmas Day and stayed upstairs in bed. She was too weak to drive home, so she’s staying with us tonight as well. She feels miserable. All of her gifts are still downstairs, waiting to be opened.

With mom out of commission, getting everything together and ready was left to us and my aunts. Since my mom and Aunt Dona were in charge of food, I had no idea what needed to be done to prepare the food, and Aunt Dona had no idea where anything was in my kitchen. It made for a slightly frustrating morning. Until then I never realized how much my mother did to keep things running smoothly on Christmas. Everything finally came together, the meal was prepared, and MY what a meal it was! Ham, turkey, stuffing, potatoes, green beans, fresh rolls, beets, cranberry sauce, and FOUR types of pie!

The gift opening was only slightly controlled chaos. While we used to always take turns opening one gift at a time, this year we saw Cordelia’s mountain of presents and decided to open a few of hers each time. Cordelia, for the most part, was uninterested in the opening of gifts, preferring to beg for mommy’s attention and throw her stacking cups around the room.

The child made out like a bandit: a toy workbench to pound pegs into, more Little People, a hand knit sweater, tons of really cool books (Aunt Dona is a librarian), and so much more. The most appreciated gifts were the hand knit sweater and the donation to her 529 college savings account.

After keeping my secret for far too long, Aaron opened his gifts and was thrilled to get an iPod. In black, no less. Since Thanksgiving, I’ve been sneaking around to all of our relatives, asking them to contribute towards this gift. I certainly couldn’t afford it on my own, and it was really the only thing he was asking for. Many people pitched in and made it possible, and I was so happy that we could get this for him. At this moment, he’s still uploading CDs to iTunes, and trying to figure out how to get video onto it. Saying he loves it is an understatement. I wouldn’t be surprised to find it in bed with us tonight.

We also were given several gift certificates for dinner at restaurants we love. The gift of eating out – yay!

Stay tuned. The next post will be my Christmas Gifts Hall of Shame. There are always some truly hideous gifts each year, and this year did not disappoint.

Today was the first of three days of family greeting, gift-exchanging, and sinful food eating. Thanks to Hanukkah being celebrated by Aaron’s family on Dec. 26 this year, we have are running the gauntlet of holiday gatherings.

Luckily, Cordelia was feeling much better today. She slept fitfully last night, but today there were no blow-out diapers or vomiting stains. Whew.

Our first challenge was my father’s side of the family gathering. One of the “benefits” (curses, really) of a divorced family is having multiple celebrations.

Dad’s family are very nice people, but we have little in common with them. They live in grand, well-styled houses, talk sports and fashion, and we’re poor geeks. That always makes things a little uncomfortable.

Plus my father and I have a currently on-again, but usually off-again father-daughter relationship. Let’s put it this way: he boycotted my wedding and didn’t speak to us again until he was a grandfather and suddenly wanted to have a grandchild to brag about. As you can probably tell, I trust him about as much as I’d trust a new AA member at an open bar: always a wary eye on him.

The theme for this Christmas could have been “over-compensation”. Cordy got a few nice gifts from the other relatives: a Toys R Us gift card, a Little People set, some clothing. And then my dad: the Cinderella DVD (which will be great in two years), a Snoopy (because she needs another stuffed animal to go with the other 859), a toy cell phone (that we already have), a musical book (seriously, what circle of hell is for people who buy kids loud, annoying toys?), and an effin’ solid wood rocking chair. They’re great gifts, but I just felt like it was a little bit of overkill.

For Aaron and I, we got a gift card to a restaurant we like, which is always appreciated, and an AMC movies gift card, complete with babysitting. We’ll use the card, but skip the babysitting. Cordy barely knows my dad, and at this time I don’t trust my father enough to leave her alone with him.

Cordy, for all the chaos of 20 kids running around, was a trooper tonight as well. The party started at 6:30pm. Cordy normally goes to bed at 6:30pm. See the fun that can come from this? She was cranky the entire night, but managed to hold in her meltdown until just after 9pm, when one of the kids took the ball she was playing with. At that point, all the candy canes in all the North Pole wouldn’t keep her from laying down in the middle of the floor and wailing with fury.

She fell asleep in the car, and when we got home, she was quickly changed into PJs and put to bed. Tomorrow morning will be a new crop of family members – this time from my mom’s side of the family. But at least we’ll be at home, where Cordy feels comfortable, and it will be during a time when she’s normally awake.

Monday will be the real test. Hanukkah at Aaron’s parents house, starting around 4:30pm. It will be the third day of having barely known relatives up in Cordy’s face, and it will be pushing her bedtime. If she can make it through this, she’s ready for anything.

For now, it’s late on Christmas Eve, the house is clean, the gifts are wrapped, the child is asleep, and I have a glass of wine. Merry Christmas to all, and to all a peaceful sleeping through the night.

This morning I was sleeping in while Aaron got up with Cordy. I heard him carry her downstairs, then drifted off to sleep again.

Suddenly I was awake again, hearing “Oh, yuck!” from downstairs, followed by unhappy cries from Cordy. It turns out that she had a blow-out diaper sometime overnight, and Aaron didn’t notice until he got downstairs. We’re talking a big, something’s-not-right-with-the-digestive-system blow-out diaper. It was Poop Fest 2005: there was watery poop up the back, up her chest, down the legs, and eventually on Aaron and on the floor.

The unhappy cries were from Cordy as she was being cleaned with wet wipes. Wet wipes, while mighty and capable of many things besides cleaning baby butt, cannot withstand a mess like this.

After cleaning her up, Aaron wisely disposed of the toxic waste by putting it in a bag and throwing it in the outside trash can, instead of in the diaper genie. Good daddy.

Then they came upstairs, and when I picked her up, my suspicions of a blow-out diaper were confirmed. She was no longer in her sleeper, and she still smelled horrid. I made the executive decision that a bath was in order. When we stripped her down, I could see the redness and the rash extending from her belly button to her knees. Poor thing.

After a happy bath, she was dried off and moisturized to take care of that rash, then dressed in new clothing. But I could still tell something was off. She wasn’t all that interested in food, including when we went out to eat. If my bottomless-pit just picks at her grilled cheese, then I know there’s something wrong.

We went out shopping in the afternoon (what the hell was I thinking?) and after sitting in traffic for far too long, we came home. As I sat down to look at the mail, I noticed the smell again. Damn damn damn.

I stripped Cordy down, and was greeted with oozing tapioca poop. I guess she didn’t want me to feel left out of the Poop Fest. Once again, poop was everywhere. After cleaning her up, cleaning myself up, and cleaning the carpet, I put some toys out for Cordy to play with. She was on clothing change #3 for the day, I was on #2.

She was showing no interest in playing, so I tried a little Wiggles therapy. That worked long enough for me to call her pediatrician and ask if this was some weird reaction to her shots from Wednesday. The nurse on call said it was probably just a bug, and to keep her on clear fluids and away from dairy. I was still not convinced, since her only symptoms were diarrhea and a bad rash.

15 minutes later, Cordelia convinced me by throwing up on me. Damn damn damn. To make it worse, she also wanted to cling to me and only me – daddy wasn’t good enough. So I sat there in wet, vomit-covered pants for a few minutes to calm her down. Of all the times that she only wants me, I wondered why it had to be now?

I got free and changed into outfit #3 and changed her into her sleeper after she vomited a little bit more. She was clearly exhausted. A little Tylenol, and a small bottle later (yes, we went against the nurse’s orders – without a little bottle of milk, this kid won’t sleep) she drifted off to sleep and Aaron placed her in her crib. We’ll hold off on the second bath until tomorrow – I don’t think her red, chapped and rashy bottom can handle any more abuse right now.

As long as she’s not any worse tomorrow, we’ll spare her the visit to the doctor’s. I’m praying that this will pass before tomorrow night. We’re pretty much required to show up at my father’s family gathering – well, Cordelia is required to be there, and I think Aaron and I are optional.

It’s really the worst time to be sick – she has the opportunity to be a plague bearer and infect many, many people over the next three days. Maybe it’ll make people think twice before snatching her from us and kissing her?

I find it interesting that someone found my site by doing a Google search for “stage combat Columbus Ohio”. I decided to check out where I ranked in that list, and wouldn’t you know it? I’m first.

Gee, I feel so special, considering I mentioned Aaron’s stage combat in one post. Wait, that would be two now, I guess.

Must tell my husband to update his site and include more talk about stage combat.

See, Aaron? This is why you should get certified and start teaching in Columbus. It’s clearly an open playing field.

Oh, and in case you’re searching for stage combat choreography in Columbus: Aaron is for hire.

Now back to your regularly scheduled mommy blog.

Today my daughter is 15 months old. Just 15 months ago I was at the hospital, having her cut out of me, because she was too damn stubborn to turn head down. I now believe that a person’s personality can be seen even before they are born: Cordelia is proof of that. But that story is for another day.

We celebrated the 15 month anniversary of her birth with a visit to the pediatrician for her well-baby checkup. She was happy at first, showing off her new walking skills in the waiting room, smiling at the other kids in the room, and being damn cute. But then her name was called, and as I started to walk her back the hallway to the examination room, her eyes widened as if she had a flashback and remembered that she did. not. like. this. place. Then the crying started.

First up were the statistics. She weighed in at 25 lbs 12 ozs. That put her in the 90th percentile for her age. No big surprise there, since she’s always been near the top. Her height was 32.5 inches. This was a big jump – at 12 months she was 30 inches and in the 75th percentile. Now she’s back up into the 95th percentile again.

Finally, they measured her head size. 19.5 inches. I snickered while the nurse placed the dot on her chart at, oh, around the 120th percentile mark. Yes, my daughter has a large head. “Would ya look at the size of that kid’s head! It’s the size of a planetoid and it has it’s own weather system! Looks like an orange on a toothpick! I’m not kidding, that kid’s head is like Sputnik; spherical but quite pointy at parts!” (bonus points for naming the movie here)

The nurse then left her alone, and Cordy calmed down and decided to explore the little room we were in. The fun was soon dispersed when the doctor came in the room. Cordy gave him the evil eye and hugged my knee as if it was a shield between her and the mean guy with the pokey things.

The doctor’s comments:

“She’s growing well.” Well, duh. It’s clear the kid is an amazon. My mom is already dreaming of her being a basketball player. Or maybe hockey. Still, I have to admit I love seeing those stats. You’d think I was judging her stats like a report card – everything in the 90’s, so she’s getting an A. I must tell myself, it’s not a race.

“As long as she’s eating well, she doesn’t need vitamins.” Good to know. And as long as you consider ice cream, chicken nuggets, and PB&J eating well, then she’s great. Eating fruits and veggies is often a bit of a battle, though.

“What made you think she should be wearing soft shoes? Put her in hard soled shoes for normal foot development.” OK, this one made me a wee bit angry. Gee, where did I get a crazy idea like that? Maybe it was from reading the quotes of pediatricians recommending soft shoes, or maybe it was this research done by Dr. Lynn T. Staheli, director of orthopedics at Children’s Hospital? Or it could have been the information I found from the Canadian Pediatric Society, but, well, they’re Canadians, so we can’t trust them, right? Or maybe it was something I read from those quacks over at the American Academy of Pediatrics, but what do they know, anyway?

“She certainly has good lungs.” Yeah, and if you put your finger any closer, you might even get to experience how strong her teeth are as well.

“Oh, we’re all out of the flu shot.” They gave my daughter a half dose of the flu vaccine a month ago, but didn’t think to keep any back for when she needed the other half? *bangs head against wall*

Don’t get me wrong: I sorta like Cordy’s pediatrician. He’s friendly and seems like a nice guy, but he doesn’t have the touch that our old nurse practicioner had (she retired when Cordy was 9 months old). And he looks at me funny when I tell him of research I’ve read, or when I tell him we give Cordy organic whole milk. He’s young, and probably fresh out of med school, and clearly seems a little nervous around educated parents. I’m going to give him another try or two, and then switch doctors if my opinion of him doesn’t improve.

Finally, what doctor’s visit could be complete without shots? Cordelia got two today, including her first MMR, which the nurse informed me was probably painful for her. Great. Cordy was so upset at that point that she didn’t even want me to comfort her. Probably thinking I’m the worst mommy ever for putting her through that. Sigh…this isn’t the last time you’ll have to do things you don’t like, child.

The good news is that Cordelia is as healthy as can be. Her reflux is pretty much gone, so we can discontinue her meds for that. She’s right on track developmentally, including her temper and stranger anxiety. And, barring any illness, we won’t have to see the inside of that office again until 18 months.