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September 29, 2002
I thought we was doin' this 'cause we're music lovers
Quinn is currently on the floor behind me in my office, emptying the bottom two shelves of the CD rack. She's started at Motorhead on the first shelf, Naked Raygun on the second, and is making her way down the alphabet.
She grabs a CD, looks at it, and then tosses it aside. Sometimes she puts a corner in her mouth, but mostly she seems intent on looking at every single one.
Oh no! She's switched to another rack! She's getting into the Bob Wills-to-ZZ Top shelf!
Posted by Andy at 10:38 AM | Comments (2)
sleeeeeep time
It's suddenly possible to lay Quinn down in bed and have her go to sleep.
All we have to do is put on the Norah Jones CD and she will talk quietly to her blue bunny until she falls asleep.
Amazing. Thanks, Norah!
Posted by Amy at 2:58 AM | Comments (4)
September 27, 2002
Stay the course
Quinn is crawling like crazy and pulling up on things. Her new trick is to crawl up the side of the tub while Mama's in the shower. She pulls back the curtain and climbs up on the side and then eats the edge.
We went to see Dr. Epstein again on Wednesday, since Quinn's breathing isn't getting any better, even though her legs are doing better. We basically don't have any new information, and he's reluctant to give her an MRI because of the sedation we'd have to put her under, and we agree. Her breathing is more of a nuisance at this point, it seems, and it's not really causing any problems beyond the problem itself. She's hitting milestones, growing, etc. So we're gonna go back in late November and see how things go.
Posted by Andy at 10:38 AM | Comments (1)
September 22, 2002
Gaaaahhh
Things are getting harder here, in a rapid fashion.
It's 11:15 p.m. and Quinn just fell asleep. She usually goes down at about 7:30 or 8:00. The culprit was probably the hour and a half ride home from Aunt Cinda's house at 6:00 tonight, which left her just refreshed enough to not want to go to sleep when we got home. Once placed in her crib, she started sitting up. And sitting up. And sitting up.
I don't want to recount the whole evening. Andy and I are both frazzled and don't really know how to handle this new burst of independence.
Refusing sleep. Crawling to the TV, outlets, dog toys, drawers, cabinets, blah blah blah. Grabbing at the spoon she's eating from and insisting on doing it herself. (Not a bad thing, I know, but a messy one.)
Where's our little baby bunny girl?
Posted by Amy at 12:19 PM | Comments (3)
September 19, 2002
Sleeping trouble
Oh, it's hard to be Quinn Lester!
After Gymboree today, then lunch with some of the mommies and babies, Quinn was ripe for a nap. She rubbed her eyes the whole way home and I had to sing my loudest to keep her awake. But as soon as I changed her diaper and plopped her in her crib, she popped right up with a big grin on her face.
"Great," I told her, lying her back down. "You're a big sitting-up bunny! But now you're going night-night. Just a little napper, goofus." I covered her up, stuck the pacifier in her mouth, and she pulled the blanket over her head and appeared to go to sleep.
A few minutes later, I heard her talking. I went in and she was sitting up, smiling at me. As I approached the crib she raised her arms, like I was just going to pluck her up and forget the whole nap thing.
"Night night. Little napper," I told her, putting her back under her cover and putting the pacifier in her mouth. Again, she was still.
Not even a minute later, I heard more chatter coming from her room.
She was over at the foot of her crib, addressing her blue bunny from Uncle Dennis. Chewing on its ear. Lifting her arms to be removed from the crib.
"Night night. Little napper." I flopped her back down and went through the routine.
A few minutes later, I decided that things were a little bit too quiet next door, so I poked my head in her room. This time she was on her hands and knees up at the head of the crib, scratching at the wallpaper. She'd undone the bumper pad ties in order to get to the wall. She was so busy at her work that I surprised her when I laid her back down.
"Night night. Little napper."
I was certain she'd fallen asleep, because I didn't hear from her again for another ten minutes. But soon enough, there was moaning from the next room. I went in and immediately smelled what she'd been up to. After a quick diaper change, I put her--with a very surprised and slightly disgusted look on her face--back in the crib. This time I vowed to leave her in there until she passed out.
After a bit she began to whine. And cry. And moan. And chant. "Mama! Maaamaaa! Mom! Mom! Ma maaaaa!" I left her in there until 45 minutes had passed since the start of this whole "nap." I had to start dinner downstairs, and I couldn't just let her scream in her crib any longer.
When I went in the final time, she was clinging to the crib bars like she was in a prison cell. "MA MAH!" she told me angrily, raising her arms to be set free. So I picked her up, carried her across the hall to our room, put her in our bed, and flopped down beside her.
She was asleep in about 45 seconds. A sleep so deep that she wasn't even moving. She was dead to the world.
Stinker.
---------
I got a last-minute appointment tonight for a haircut that I needed desperately. Andy had to go to class, and my sister Julie and my cousin Cathy weren't home, so I called my mom. She agreed to come over at 6:30 so I could go.
I left the house at 6:35 with Quinn playing happily on the floor, fresh out of her high chair where she'd greatly enjoyed eating the parmesean chicken and buttered noodles we'd had for dinner. Full. Happy. With Grandma, probably the person she knows the best besides Andy and I.
When I arrived home at 7:30, the TV was off in the family room and it was silent. Did my mom put her to bed, I wondered? What was going on? Then I saw them on the couch. My mom was cradling Quinn in her lap, and Quinn was red-eyed and tearstained. Her arms immediately shot out when she saw me and she began to moan "Maaamaaa! Maaamaaa!"
"Oh god," I said.
"She has been screaming," my mom said calmly, "since you walked out the door."
I picked Quinn up off her lap, and she smiled brightly at me. Then she turned and smiled at my mom.
"You," my mom said to her, "are a bad girl."
Quinn began to babble then, telling her side of the story. She babbled for so long that I sat her on my lap so she could finish comfortably.
"Aaaahhhh la la lallllaa. Ahhhh babababa. Ahhhhhh. Mmmmmmmaaah."
"I don't care," my mom told her when she finally finished. "You are bad."
Quinn looked at her blankly.
"For God's sake," I told her. "Can't mama get a freaking haircut??"
Then she laid her head on my shoulder and patted my back.
Pat. Pat. Pat.
And she was forgiven for everything.
Posted by Amy at 12:26 PM | Comments (5)
September 15, 2002
WE HAVE CRAWLAGE
LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!
BOYS AND GIRLS!
DOGS AND CATS, TOO!
I would like to announce that as of today: September 15, 2002, QUINN MARILYN LESTER CAN CRAWL!
She's been doing a few, um, crawls here and there for the past few days if she's really, really motivated to get something, but never consistent, across-the-room crawling.
But tonight, at Aunt Julie and Uncle Denny's house, while the theme song to "The Sopranos" blasted through the living room, Quinn crawled her little butt all the way across the room to get to the remote control we'd placed on the floor.
So happy. So freaking happy are we.
Posted by Amy at 10:48 AM | Comments (12)
September 13, 2002
Shocks and pokes
We went to CMH yesterday to have Quinn's EMG test. Everything came out just fine.
For the shock part, Dr. McRae put some electrodes on her arm, and then gave her a little jolt further up her arm, and checked the nerve reactions on the screen. Quinn didn't mind the jolt, but she DID mind that we were holding her arms. She HATES having her arms held or moved. Don't even TRY to help her, say, put the ball into the hole, or guide the spoon into her mouth. She will get VERY angry.
Then, for the poke part, he poked a needle into her leg muscle, and watched the electric impulses on the computer screen. Then he tickled her foot, and move things around a bit, and watched the impulses as he did these things. He did it once for each leg.
And then that was it. He said everything looked fine, and that he was confident that she didn't have any neuromuscular problems. That she was fighting back during the tests was a good sign in itself, and kids who really do have problems sometimes don't even cry, even though they're very unhappy; they're just like big ragdolls.
So what's next? We're not sure. We're waiting for followup with Dr. Epstein.
Posted by Andy at 10:25 AM | Comments (2)
September 12, 2002
Only slightly naughty
Yesterday I was in my office while Quinn was in her room napping.
Or so I thought.
I heard sounds that were a little too joyful for a girl who was supposed to be asleep. So I walked into her room and found:
Yes. Yes yes. The bunny has finally learned that she can sit up in her crib.
Needless to say, there was no nap that morning, as she would pop back up every time I laid her down, and we didn't have all morning for these tricks. There was a Gymboree date to make!
To further her firsts, this is what I found her doing as I packed her bag to go to Gymboree.
To complement this spate of naughtiness, she's now making very, very annoying noises when she doesn't get her way. "Ah HEH ah HEH ah HEH!" she'll exclaim as she pushes out her lower lip and squeezes her eyes closed. Ohhhh, it's gettin' old.
We're on our way to Children's to have Quinn's EMG done. Needles stuck into her legs. Muscles being shocked. This is not a good way to spend a Thursday for a pretty bunny who is only slightly naughty.
Posted by Amy at 10:07 AM | Comments (5)
September 9, 2002
ONE!
How old are you, Quinn?
She had 2 months to learn this trick--she picked it up quickly. Luckily she can't count.
Posted by Amy at 12:43 PM | Comments (5)
September 6, 2002
TherapyPants
I know, I know it's been nine years since I've updated. I'm feeling kind of blah, and it seems like I'm always busy busy busy. I have no idea how working mothers survive. Bless them all, dammit.
Here are pictures of Quinn in the infamous purple spandex shorts. They are probably some of the least flattering pix of Quinn I've seen, but...not every day is a Rock Star day. You might as well know that up front.
Note that she's wearing her saucy fire engine pajama top with the pretty pants. 
Oh, she can stand up against things now! Isn't that exciting???
OK, the next one showcases the sewn-together legs that prevent her from doing the splits. It also showcases what she looks like when she has a breath-holding spell. (Those are still happening, much to our dismay.)
Please notice her Augustus Gloop hair. She's annoyed because she's trying to sit and she can't just spread her legs and fall backwards on her butt...she has to actually maneuver her butt over to the side and do what's called a "side sit." She loathes the side sit. Loathes it.
In other news, her EMG is still scheduled for a week from today. The doctor's assistant thought it might be cancelled, given that the bloodwork they've gotten back doesn't show any Spinal Muscular Atrophy, but we haven't heard of any cancellations thus far.
The past two therapy sessions have been very hard on the bunny. She has cried pretty much the entire hour. Why? Probably from frustration: her therapist, Kim, is preventing her from moving in the familiar, comfortable ways and forcing her to learn new ways of moving. That pisses Quinn off, and she fights back every chance she gets by pushing the opposite way that Kim is trying to get her to move. (For example, she pushes backwards when Kim is trying to push her forwards in a crawling position.)
Kim also does infuriating things like moving toys out of Quinn's reach so that she is inspired to try and stand up to get them, or crawl forward, or crawl down a slope. Quinn gets so pissed that her whole head turns red and she screams and cries and I have to constantly mop tears and boogers from her face. It's very hard to watch her struggle so much.
I'm trying hard not to be angry that Quinn has to go through this routine. She could have so much wrong with her. We have seen so many kids at Children's that are far worse off than Quinn is. We are grateful that we see progress every week, and that she has such wonderful people on her case.
It's still hard, though, to not wonder...is it my fault she was born like this? Did I do something wrong when I was pregnant that caused her muscles to be all floppy? Am I doing enough to help her out now? I just hate, hate, hate seeing her anything but her happy, content, goofy bunny self.
Posted by Amy at 12:28 PM | Comments (10)
September 3, 2002
Standing
Quinn will stand against an object now, like the couch or her new Crawl 'n' Cruise Playground. We have to pick her up and put her in standing position, but at least she seems to like it, and realizes that it's a good thing when she does it.
She's also been playing peek-a-boo in the morning. "Where's Quinny?" we intone with great concern. [flooomp] "There she is!" [cover] "Oh no, where'd Quinny go?" [flooomp] "There she is!" It's great fun for all.
Posted by Andy at 1:05 AM | Comments (1)