Beaching

Just snuggled Dean into his crib for the night. In the past couple of weeks, he has started sleeping on his side, and now he even seems to prefer his belly. During his wake time, getting him to be on his stomach is almost impossible -- he screams and immediately flips himself onto his back. Now, he gets angry if we try to move him on to his back when he's in his crib -- thank goodness for the movement monitor, since I know he's supposed to sleep on hjis back to reduce the risk of SIDS.

Overall, his sleeping has continued to be greatly improved from a month ago. We spent last week at the beach with my family and the extended Koske crew, and Dean was pretty hard to settle our first night there. But once we stuck him in the closet (he was in a port-a-crib and we didn't shut the door, it's not as barbaric as it sounds) he seemed happier -- fewer distractions, I guess. He was a real trouper at the beach. We got into a routine pretty quickly -- during his first morning nap, we'd all head out the door and into the sand and bring the baby monitor (it was a 20 second sprint from the shore to his bedroom door). When we woke up, I'd nurse him and then he'd spend some time on a blanket under our beach tent. I took him into the water at least a couple times a day, but the sun was so bright I didn't want to risk giving him a sunburn. The water really excited him. He would screech an squawk at it, like its existence was a personal affront to him, but he was giggle and coo when it splashed up on his legs.

Henry quickly made friends with some boys next door. Matthew and I both remarked on how neither of us was ever very good at those sort of spur of the moment palships. In truth, Henry was not the one who initiated it, and if the boy his age had not been as outgoing as he was, it's possible they never would have hooked up. But luckily the neighbor boys were extremely outgoing, polite, and very patient with Henry, since he was a good year younger. They encouraged him to go into the water (there were a lot of jellyfish, more on that below) so that he was boogie boarding by the middle of the week. They caught and tortured jellyfish, buried each other in the sand, and flew kites every evening. It was terrific.

And then Kate and her kids came -- eleven month old Thomas and three year old Anna. So then Henry had the chance to be the bigger kid and show her the beach, the crabs, the waves, and how to dig really deep holes. By the end of the week, our group's umbrellas and tents stretched in a line in front of our beach house, a happy little conclave of bright beach toys and sandy chairs and wind-swept heads looking out toward clear, azure water.

Aside from the jellyfish, the water was great. There were a couple of treacherous days when the jellys outnumbered the people 10 to 1, but on the other days there were hardly any and you could spot them easily But on one of the treacherous days, Matthew ventured out on his windsurfer. He went so far out I lost track of him on the horizon, and when he came back he was shaking and looked like he had seen a ghost. He actually came close to losing his life -- the farther he went, the more and bigger were the jellyfish, wider than a frisbee and blanketing the ocean as far as he could see. There were thousands. He was terrified to turn around, since he sometimes falls off as he turns against the wind, so he kept going out, thinking they would dissipate but in fact they just got larger and more numerous, like a nightmare. He finally turned around without falling and psyched himself up the whole way back -- don't fall off, don't fall off, don't fall off. And thank god he didn't -- I really think he would have been in mortal danger if he had fallen and gotten tangled up in one or more of those enormous jellyfish, with no one around to assist and in too much pain to get back. It turns out the swarms were so unusual they were reported on the national news.

It was a great week. We took a trip to nostalgia by howing Henry Flight of the Navigator and Swiss Family Robinson. We had group sing-a-longs while the guys played guitar. We ate great meals and drink lots of beer and sangria. We played Taboo and the women kicked the guys' bottoms. My sister and I swapped books and moral support. My Mom fished and fished and fished. I got a tad of a tan.

And now back to real life. I had a migraine this week that last 24 hours. Those are becoming less common, but now that I don't have insurance coverage for them for 6 months, I am always terrified that it will become one of those three day ordeals hat ends with me in the ER. Those are so rare I can count them easily over the past 15 years, but somehow when I know I can't afford it, it stresses me out more than ever. I have pretty much backed off the health care debate. I was becoming obsessed, anrgry, constantly agitated. I;ve given money, stood in the heat waving signs, gone to Mary Landrieu's office in person, made phone calls and e-mails...I don't know what else I can do without giving myself more migraines, which is hardly helping anyone. The week at the beach, I avoided the news entirely, and I'm trying to keep from getting so involved now that I am back. Maybe I'm a coward, but I just can't take the stress right now.