I guess visiting my parents really gave Baby Evan a sense of where he comes from, because he decided to take part in the long-standing Glidden family tradition of being TERRIBLY HORRIBLY ILL on Thanksgiving. Growing up, someone in our house (usually my sister) was ALWAYS sick on holidays. Thanksgiving? Pneumonia! Christmas? Flu! Easter? Strep throat! Arbor Day? The Plague! National Waffle Appreciation Day? Ebola!

On Wednesday when we got to Ohio we thought the baby was just fussy because of the long car trip. But by 2 am when he refused to be put down even for a second we decided it was more than just fussing. I thought it might be his two top teeth coming through, but when his fever kept getting higher and his wailing kept getting louder, we suspected he might really be sick. E went out on Thanksgiving (thanks People Who Work At The Grocery Store On Holidays!) and bought a thermometer and some infant Tylenol so we could do something – ANYTHING – to help poor Baby Evan feel better. It didn’t work. He spent all day on Thursday alternating between crying himself to exhaustion and passing out from exhaustion only to wake up crying. My entire extended in-law family thinks Baby Evan is a loud, angry, snot-producing machine and feels really really bad for me as the mother of such a difficult baby. For a while I tried to insist he normally wasn’t like this (Read my blog! He’s really good!) but after a while I was too tired to protest and by bedtime I had completely forgotten he had ever been a happy, easy-going child.

If we had been at home during Baby Evan’s First Illness (a milestone I will definitely NOT be putting in the baby book) we would have handled it. I would have been tired, the baby still would have been sick, and it wouldn’t have been over any faster, but it would have been SO. MUCH. EASIER. When you’re a houseguest in a very crowded house, taking care of a sick baby is misery. Thank God E was just as concerned about the baby as I was, because if he hadn’t done his share of nighttime rocking and changing and letting Baby Evan sleep on his chest I may have ended up stabbing a meat thermometer through my hand just for a couple of quiet hours in the hospital.

In the middles of Thursday night his temperature reached 104.5 and I spent two hours waiting for my pediatrician to call me back and insist I take my deathly ill baby to the ER. Instead, a very calm grandmother-type nurse told me a high temp was normal in an 8 month old, he was just fighting off a virus and “he must be your first”. I let her calm me down and her suggestions helped Baby Evan’s temp come down and by Friday morning he started to act more like his normal self.

Now we’re home and he’s so happy to be back in his own bed he may just sleep forever. Well, not FOREVER (And he’s definitely still breathing – I checked. About two dozen times.) but certainly long enough for me to catch up on some of my missing sleep and get started on the pre-holiday decorating clean-a-thon. I’m sure once he realizes there are ornaments to break, ribbon to eat and glitter to roll in he’ll be too excited to ever sleep again.

I am thankful for…

The roof over my head, and the knowledge it will still be there tomorrow. I promise to appreciate it and not complain about trivial things like the color of the walls or that the shower leaks.

A partner who loves and supports me and our child. I promise to appreciate him more and nag a little less.

My health. I promise to love the body I have and not be so hard on myself about my weight.

A wonderful, loving, thriving baby. I promise to be more patient when he needs me and more present during his days so I don’t look back in 20 years and wonder where all the time went.

My family and friends, both real, virtual, and the ones who are a little of both. I promise to try and give all of you as much love and support in everything you do as you’ve given me.

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Last Thanksgiving, I spent the night in the emergency room, worried about the possible end of my pregnancy and the loss of the family we were dreaming of. This year, my healthy, chubby baby and I are surrounded – REALLY surrounded – by loved ones and this holiday is more special than its ever been. I hope I always have this much to be thankful for.

Here’s Baby Evan’s Official First Halloween costume:

Aaaaand here’s the other one I bought yesteday at Old Navy for $2:

On Saturday, E and I took Baby Evan up to Amherst, Massachusetts to visit the Eric Carle Museum of Picture Book Art. I read Mr. Carle’s blog fairly regularly and he mentioned the museum was hosting an exibit of Tomie dePaola’s work this summer/fall. Now, I don’t like to play favorites with my children’s books – I have so very many favorites it would be impossible to choose one or two or twelve – but have you SEEN Tomie dePaola’s work? My favorite is The Quilt Story. It’s about a girl named Abigail whose family moves to a new home and her special quilt makes her feel safe and happy. Not to get all sappy and gross but we moved around fairly often when I was a kid, so that book meant a lot to me.

Along with the exibit of his work, Tomie dePaola was also going to be at the museum for a meet and greet on October 17th.  My copy of The Quilt Story was actually already signed “To Suzanne” by Tomie, way back in 1985. So the chance to meet him now, with my own child, was really exciting. (Sadly, Tomie just had surgery on his signing hand for carpel tunnel so he passed out bookplates instead of actually signing. Still worth the trip.)

Baby Evan is way too young to understand the actual museum and a little too young to enjoy the “studio” where kids can make their own crafts, but he was well behaved and – as always – a big hit with everyone who crossed his path. Ok, not WELL behaved – I’m told there was quite a bit of screaming during Tomie’s Q & A in the auditorium but E was nice enough to watch the baby in the hall so I could stay and listen, (Tomie was very funny in sort of an curmudgeonly old man way – he said he didn’t do school visits anymore because kids are hyper and awful and too much for him) but he didn’t poop or throw up on anything. Which is pretty much the baby equivalent of a standing ovation.

I couldn’t take any pictures in the galleries, which are set up like a regular art museum with lots of white space and low lighting. There are two galleries, one holds work by Carle and the other rotates original work by various children’s illustrators. It doesn’t take very long to see all the art (especially with an impatient child) but there is a children’s library, the studio and an amazing gift shop. We may have gone overboard in the gift shop, but with our military discount admission price (only $3 instead of $9!) the trip didn’t cost very much. The museum has an area called the “Cafe” but it was really just a dining space and a couple vending machines. We left to search for food and stumbled across a giant but insanely busy country market/grocery store/bakery/deli. If we hadn’t been in a hurry to get back and meet Tomie I could have spent HOURS picking out fresh produce and locally made goat cheeses. (In case you didn’t know, Amherst is a little…crunchy. Ok, the whole place smells like hippies. College kid hippies.) We also stopped at a pumpkin farm on the way home and got our family of pumpkins for carving and took some great pictures. I highly recommend Western Mass in the fall, and the Eric Carle Museum anytime.

Happy Easter from Suzanne, E and Baby Evan, who was so excited about his first holiday he fell asleep immediately after we dressed him up in his ducky jacket.