Melissa | Growing Green Nutrition – Page 12

On beach time

We spent last week in Destin, Florida. I intended to post here while we were gone, but it just didn’t happen. I’m almost caught up on laundry for the trip, so here’s a recap before it’s totally irrelevant (and before I forget everything!).

A bit of background — my MIL has a timeshare at a beachfront resort in Destin, FL. Her unit is a studio, and, while I’d made the trip with Matthew and his mom a time or two before G was born, three adults and a baby/toddler crammed into one small studio was not my idea of fun (also, I’m not really a beach person). For the past two years, I sat out this trip and enjoyed some much-needed solo time. However, after two years of seeing pictures of G enjoying the beach, I gave in to Matthew’s urging and joined them this year (to preserve everyone’s sanity, we rented a second studio unit).

Prior to the trip, I did find myself wishing that I’d gone last year instead, when G was a bit more easy-going, but that’s hindsight for ya! I was also a bit worried about making the trip at all, given G’s ongoing cough, but by our departure day, things seemed headed in the right direction, if not completely resolved.

Day 1 (Friday, May 22)
We drove from St. Louis to Atlanta, GA — not the most direct route to Destin, but my MIL wanted to take G to the Georgia Aquarium to see the whale sharks. We got on the road about an hour later than planned because someone couldn’t drag himself away from the garden. This put us on target to hit Nashville around 4pm, which I hoped was early enough to beat rush hour traffic. Of course, it was not. We lost a lot of time in Nashville and didn’t arrive in Atlanta until 10pm (though that was losing an hour to the time change, so not crazy late for Central time).

While we missed Sprawl-lanta’s infamous rush hour, traffic heading into downtown on Friday night was still pretty crazy. At one point, I noticed an interstate message board warning that there had been over 400 deaths on Georgia roads in the first five months of 2015. I’m not sure how that compares to other states, but it seemed quite high to me, and also rather understandable given the driving displayed by other motorists. (I saw in the paper the next morning that it was the weekend of the Indy 500 — seemed like some of our fellow motorists forgot they were not on a racetrack.)

G fell asleep in the car, but woke when we exited the interstate in downtown Atlanta. He was disoriented and crying, as well as coughing a lot (to the point I thought he might vomit as we were trying to unload and figure out parking at the hotel) — so, basically a hot mess. We managed to get him settled in the room, before turning in ourselves.

Day 2
Even with the time change, we woke bright and early on the day of our aquarium visit. In my head, the aquarium was going to be similar to a zoo: outside displays, lots of ground to cover, and sunny and hot, but with fish instead of animals. Maybe I was thinking about Sea World?

Anyway, in reality, the Georgia Aquarium is a large indoor structure (could have left the sunscreen in the car), and we easily saw most of it in under two hours (we skipped the dolphin show because G didn’t feel like waiting in line). The whale sharks were pretty cool, as were the large sting rays that shared that tank.

The aquarium has a new beluga whale calf, but they’re giving mama and baby some bonding time (maternity leave?), so the tank was completely curtained off. Totally understandable, though I was a bit bummed to miss the chance to see baby beluga (when I started singing the Raffi song at the aquarium, I swear that G gave me a “Mom, please, you’re embarrassing me” look).

We also overlooked/missed a hands-on kids area that would have been nice for G. All-in-all, it was a nice visit, but at almost $40 per person, not something I’d repeat anytime soon.

We grabbed lunch on the way out of Atlanta and made tracks for Destin, though not nearly fast enough for G. When we were about two hours away from our destination, he announced, “I had planned to be at the beach right now. When are we going to be there?” It was a long two hours.

Days 3-8
Beach time! We had pretty great weather overall. Temps never climbed higher than 85°F — with cloud cover and beach breezes, that was pretty ideal for my vampire ways.

The water temperature was nice. We had red flag days all week — great for body boarding in the waves, not so great for little ones playing in the ocean (also not so great for my beloved prescription sunglasses, which are somewhere in Gulf of Mexico right now). Unlike previous years, G stuck to the sand and the swimming pool, where he pretended he was a mermaid. (“Merman, Pop! Merman.” Sorry, I couldn’t resist.)

I got in on some of the body boarding action, though with my sun-dodging ways, not to nearly the same extent as Matthew. (Unfortunately, he has a large number of itchy welts — we suspect an allergic reaction to either a specific jellyfish or seaweed. For whatever reason, I escaped this affliction.)

G’s favorite indoor activity was rolling around on the floor (ick!) saying, “I’m a kitten. I’m sick, and I need a paramedic.” At which point any adults present were expected to grab some medical tools (i.e., co-opted cooking ware) and help the kitten. More fun the first time than the fiftieth . . . .

The units have full(ish) kitchens, and we mostly ate in — I’m working on a vacation food post for later this week. Also, G’s cough completely resolved while we were gone!

Day 9
On Saturday, we all piled back into my MIL’s Camry for the long drive home. It’s worth noting here that the only way that three adults, one child, and gear for a week at the beach fit comfortably in a Camry was with the addition of a roof-top bag, which, childhood memories notwithstanding, worked great!

We left Destin at 7:30am on Saturday. Less than three hours into our 13 hour (plus stops) drive, G announced that he was ready to get out of the car. His statement did not bode well for the rest of the day, but things actually went rather well. G eventually took a nap, which gave all of us a nice break, and then fell asleep for the final two hours.

Matthew’s mom dropped us off at home just before 10:30pm that night, and once in his own bed, my sweet sleepy boy curled up and went right back to sleep while we finished unloading the car.

I spent Sunday morning in a complete daze. It felt like I had jet lag, despite the lack of a jet, or even changing time zones. My back was also none too happy about all of that car time!

All in all, it was a nice vacation. Having my MIL with us meant that Matthew and I got some breaks. I don’t think I’ll join them every year, but it was nice to experience with G (though I wish we’d been able to get him into the ocean a bit more).

To the doctor, again

Our current pediatrician practices out of an office that’s about seven miles away. Due to timing, distance, and route options, we have never made the trip by bicycle. Every time we take G to this doctor, we pass by a pediatric practice that is less than two miles from us, an easy and lovely bike ride.

I really like our pediatrician (and I’m hesitant to change horses midstream), but if someone had told me back in December that we would be making six visits in just over four months (including four visits in the last 5 weeks alone), I might have switched to the closer practice!

Our mid-April visit (trip 3 of 6 in 2015) resulted in an allergy diagnosis. Claritin seemed to clear up those symptoms, and we enjoyed a week or so of health, and then a cough popped up, followed by a fever and a pneumonia diagnosis (trip 4 of 6). The antibiotic seemed to really do its job — the fever disappeared almost immediately (surprisingly quickly, according to the doctor) and the cough was knocked way back . . . for awhile.

Last Wednesday (10 days after the diagnosis), we went back for a standard follow-up (trip 5 of 6) to make sure that his lungs were clear. They were, and there had been no recurrence of fever, but I had a nagging feeling even then that his cough was headed in the wrong direction.

He had a lot of nasal drainage and a clearly worsening cough over the weekend, and then on Sunday afternoon, he spiked a fever again. So yesterday we headed to the doctor YET AGAIN (trip 6 of 6), concerned about antibiotic-resistant pneumonia.

The doctor took a really good listen to G’s lungs, and, despite the coughing, said his lungs still sounded clear. The doctor’s best guess is that G now has a respiratory virus of some type. This means no antibiotics, which is a good thing (in terms of antibiotic resistance and not having to deal with the side effects of another drug), but it also means no quick fix.

I’m hoping that this virus resolves quickly, with no secondary infections, so we can have a reprieve from the all-too-familiar drive to the doctor (and also a reprieve from sleepless nights — SO tired).

In the meantime, I’m torn, but I may investigate the closer pediatric practice. We actually interviewed one doctor there before G was born. We weren’t impressed with this individual (felt rushed and unimportant during the consultation), but there are other providers in the practice. Trading a twenty-five minute car ride for a twelve-minute bike trip is tempting.

What would you do?

Wet weather biking with kids (and preschool peer pressure)

When we first got Big Blue, my plan was to make G a rain cover, a la Lindsay’s instructions. I already had the clip-off umbrella stroller sunshade and a big rain cover from our jogging stroller. I purchased the PVC, zip ties, and heavy duty Velcro, thinking it would be an easy project (I also liked that fact that it would double as a sun shade). I played around with it a bit, but I didn’t find it quite as easy to set up on the Yepp child seat as it seemed to be on Lindsay’s Peanut Shell child seat, plus, it was summer and there just wasn’t all that much rain (though the sun shade would have been nice).

Since then, it seems like most of the days when it’s raining and we need to transport Gabriel, it’s really raining (with heavy winds and/or lightning and thunder in the mix), and we’ve opted to take the car.

One drizzly day in March, I realized that the adult-sized poncho we bought at Crater Lake (when someone neglected to bring her raincoat on the hike (also, the hike where we almost got struck by lightning)) would make an ideal rain cover for G and his seat.

WetWeatherBiking — Photo op while waiting for a looooooong train

The poncho solution is as simple as securing the kid in the seat, then placing the poncho (with the child’s arms INSIDE, not sticking out), and topping with the helmet. To keep it from blowing around, I rolled the edges and secured them with a couple of clothes pins (you can see one near the bottom of the photo, behind G’s foot).

We weren’t using the poncho’s hood on this day, because it was just a little drizzly, and cool enough that he was wearing other head covering anyway, but in heavier rain, the hood could be worn underneath his helmet, for head to almost-toe coverage (again, if it has really been coming down, he would have had his rain boots on here. We’ve used this successfully on a couple of wet days now.

Yesterday morning was just such a day. It was sprinkling a bit as we all prepared to leave (me to a dentist appointment; M and G to school/work). As I was leaving for my early appointment, Gabriel was angling for taking the car, and starting to work into a bit of a lather (apparently he was sad that they weren’t leaving at the exact same time as me).

When I asked Matthew about it last night, part of the story was that G didn’t want to wear the poncho on the bike because he “didn’t want kids at school to laugh at him.”

I was floored. Really?!? My 3-year-old has to worry that other freaking 3-year-olds will MAKE FUN OF HIM??? At preschool???

My heart hurt for my sweet, sensitive little guy, and my mama bear instincts definitely kicked in — WHO, exactly, was going to laugh at him, because so help me, I was going to find that little punk . . . .

The truth is, this stuff will happen. Not to condone it, but short of home-schooling my kid and never leaving the house, we’ll have to deal with this. Preschool seems a little early, but I guess it’s time to start practicing how we deal with these things.

PA school: And now, the rest of the story

In mid-September, I wrote this post, in which I debated applying to Physician Assistant (PA) school. And then, radio silence . . . .

I decided to go ahead and apply, despite knowing that applying late in the game would work against me. Since I didn’t know what the outcome would be, I wanted to keep my options open. Writing more about applying to PA school in a publicly-viewable space, while continuing to explore other career options, seemed like a bad plan, hence the silence here.

I submitted my application one week before the November 1 deadline. I was not expecting to hear anything until January (maaaaybe December), so I did my best to submit it and forget it. I was one of over 700 applicants for Saint Louis University’s 34-seat program. While well-qualified in some ways, I felt even getting an interview was a long shot.

Then, on January 16th, I received an email inviting me for a February interview with SLU’s PA program (they interview 80 people for those 34 seats). It was both exciting and nerve-wracking. The invite came right as G was sick with [his first bout of] pneumonia. My flexible, part-time work schedule made it fairly easy to care for him, but I couldn’t imagine what we would do in that scenario if I was going to school full-time (in a very intense program).

Anyhow, I swallowed my fears and accepted the invitation, then realized that if I might actually be accepted, I needed to get my butt in gear and knock out a medical terminology course, the one outstanding prerequisite on my list. That took a bit of doing — the official registration deadline at the community college had already passed, but I managed to wrangle my way into a course (thankfully, an online course). Then I started researching “questions in a PA school interview.”

Interview day was ushered in by a snowstorm (that big snow we got in mid-February). Most of the local schools were already closed for President’s Day, but those that weren’t, cancelled. Interviews were ON, though I debated whether getting to the interview was worth risking life, limb, and car (which raised red flags about my commitment level).

I arrived without incident, though I did have a minor “this is not my regular bag so I don’t have a tampon and ALL (yes, I checked the bathrooms on all four floors) of the feminine hygiene vending machines are empty/broken” crisis. After that panic-inducing start, the interview day, which included a Q&A session with current students, as well as three one-on-one interviews with various faculty members, proceeded without incident.

I was part of the fourth round of interviews. At that point, they had already interviewed 48 other candidates, and awarded some unknown number of the 34 seats. Having made it to the interview stage, my guess was that my odds were a bit lower than 50-50 of being accepted. I had quite a few questions/doubts about embarking on this path (i.e., a very intense, full-time, 27-month commitment while also being a mother), but I had pretty much talked myself into accepting, and damn the torpedoes, if they offered me a spot.

Two weeks later, I was notified that I was consigned to the wait list. I was disappointed, but also a bit relieved. While my interviews did not go badly, I would also not say they were great. In retrospect, my heart was not in it, at least not all of my heart. I can interview well, when it’s something I really want, but I’m not great at faking it.

I decided that I needed to take some time to evaluate what I really wanted for my life, and what made sense for me, not just something that sounded good, that I could do. I set up an appointment with a career counselor at SLU (free service for alumni). After our initial meeting, I checked out the latest edition of What Color is Your Parachute? and started working through some of the exercises (more on that in an upcoming post).

In early April, I was notified of my position on the wait list — number 25, i.e., “Better luck next time.” I’m not exactly sure what my next step is, but I will not be reapplying to PA school this year (and likely not ever, but you never know). At this point, I just don’t want it enough, or for the right reasons. Now, to figure out what I do want . . . .

Weekend rides and rains

The intermittent rain and thunderstorms made things tricky both in the garden and on the bike over the weekend.

Poor Matthew took Friday off work, hoping for two full back-to-back garden days to get caught up. Instead, he got a few hours on Friday morning and a few hours on Saturday morning. On his way home from the garden on Friday, he swung by The Hub to pick up our Burley Piccolo!

The Piccolo mounts onto Burley’s proprietary rear rack. I was anxious to get the rack on my new bike so it would be ready for Saturday’s CyclingSavvy class. Of course, I made the mistake of assuming that the rack would be “easy” to install. It ended up taking at least an hour and required using our small, manual metal saw to cut the rack stays to the appropriate length. We had to wait on installing the second rack on Matthew’s bike — it will need some kind of extender to reach the bottom mounting point on his hybrid.

Saturday morning dawned overcast, but my bike was ready, and it looked like we might be able to squeeze in “Train Your Bike” (the parking lot, bike handling skills session of CyclingSavvy) before the next wave of rain hit.

NewBike_CyclingSavvy — Photo courtesy of Karen Karabell

The first rain drops began to fall as we started the second-to-last drill. We wrapped things up, mindful of the slippery pavement. We stashed all of the bikes under an awning or in Karen’s van and dashed into Kaldi’s just before it started pouring. After lunch, I accepted Karen’s gracious offer to give me a lift, though I felt like a bit of a wimp for not just biking in the rain. (My decision was fueled by the fact that, ~~for whatever reason~~ due to sleep debt and an unexpectedly challenging yoga class on Friday afternoon, my energy level was pretty low — I had felt every bit of the 6.5 miles on the way to the class location. That, and wanting to baby my new bike — yes, it will get wet (and scratched) eventually, but it’s nice to enjoy it shiny and new for just a bit longer.)

Instead of just stabling my bike and heading inside for a nap after returning home, I embarked on a garage-cleaning project, which expanded to include some basement cleaning. Both spaces look much better now!

We kicked off Mother’s Day with the Piccolo’s maiden voyage. G was excited upon seeing the new bike, and then, once sitting on it, immediately uncertain (called that one #mamaknows). He spent the first two blocks saying he didn’t like it and thought he was going to fall off (he wasn’t).

Then it changed to “I’m doing it” . . .

And finally, “I like this new bike.” Success!

For this first Piccolo outing, we stuck to the small streets right around our place. Given G’s initial reaction, I thought we’d go two blocks and head right back home, but we added a few more after he got into it.

I spent the rest of the morning getting stuff done around the house while Matthew tackled bread baking — so nice to have five beautiful loaves in the freezer!

We closed the weekend with a much-anticipated date night to see the student showcase at Bumbershoot Aerial Arts.

I was hoping we could make it a date night by bike, but the weather had other plans. The forecast was for a high chance of thunderstorms all evening, and the skies opened up just as we were ready to head to Lucky Buddha for dinner, so we took the car (of course, by the time we arrived, it had stopped raining).

We dined on noodle salad, steamed buns, and pho at Lucky Buddha, continued on to I Scream Cakes for dessert, and then hit the main event at the Bumbershoot gym. I enjoyed watching fellow students perform and thinking about perhaps being at that level eventually. When we left, it was dry as a bone outside, and it would have made for a lovely, if late, bike ride home. Fickle weather!

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