Disease, second-child syndrome, lost and found.

– “I need a sweatshirt!!”

– (sigh) I’ll go get it.

And so I trot down the stairs for the fifth time.

Nico was sick pretty much all week, which means he barely ate anything. So the other night, when we were eating up on the roof and I had already accepted defeat and cooked him two hotdogs for dinner (organic beef, ushers the park slope mom guiltily), Brent and I hurried about to meet every request, as if we were waiting on some Paris Hilton-type diva, just to try to keep him at the table. From an outside point of view it might look ridiculous, but that’s one of the many things parenting teaches you. In order to get some nutrients in a sick kid’s system, almost anything is justified.

The poor thing had a bad case of croup, which is this infection of the vocal cords. Another thing that you also get to go through as a parent is a short version of medical school. Pneumonia, infant dyschezia, seventy thousand ear infections, and now croup. For an Advertising and International Affairs major, it’s pretty fascinating stuff. I’m always intently studying the illustrations of our bodies that they have in the exam rooms, trying to recognize any of the names. I tell myself that I learned those names in Spanish, and they surely must sound a lot different in English and that’s why I don’t recognize them. That’s also a good excuse to justify my complete lack of knowledge about birds / trees / plants / dogs. Anyway, back to the croup. Nico sounded like a preschool Darth Vader, and after the medicine started making him feel better, he thought it was hilarious. He would come up and say “mama… I… want… juice…!”, with his little raspy voice, and start giggling, also in a raspy voice. After the DV effect was gone, he was still very low on energy for a good three days. A trip to the playground was spent with me walking Marco around and Nico making a slow run for the stroller every few minutes, where he quietly demanded more veggie booty. We really couldn’t have made it through the week without veggie booty and Kiki’s Delivery Service, Nico’s new favorite movie.

Marco, on the other hand, had a blast all week. He showed off all his new tricks to Ahmed, his physical therapist. He had Patricia all to herself on Tuesday, and he seized this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity and refused to take a nap after two intense play sessions and two different playgrounds. Only when Patricia left, he finally gave in and fell asleep in about a second and a half. Maybe not that long. We went to the zoo (wait, when was that? it feel like three weeks ago… oh time) with Andrew and Violet, which meant that Nico was hanging with Violet and I could devote myself to him. I walked out of the zoo looking like one of the figures towards the middle of the chart of the evolution of man from chimp. He better get walking on his own soon or my back is going to get seriously busted.

The Lagerman pool opened again on the roof, which is a favorite of Marco’s. I have to say though, he doesn’t seem to love it as much as he used to. After 5 weeks enjoying his custom-built tile pool in Spain, complete with a swing and lounge chairs, our blow-up probably screams trailer park to him. Sorry, little Euro brat, but this is Brooklyn. A blow-up pool is a real estate luxury. Speaking of water, we saw something pretty cool at the Brooklyn Bridge Park yesterday. They had this sort of sink on the sidewalk with 6 little faucets, hooked up to a fire hydrant, so people could get water (and hopefully not buy another damn plastic bottle). More on this here. The park was fun, it’s such a beautiful spot. It’s crazy how the city can make such awesome things like the parks at the piers – smartly designed, spotless, well-maintained – and they cannot figure out how to use a mop on a subway platform. Perhaps bleach has been banned for terrorism-related reasons. Anyway, it drives me nuts how disgusting the NY subway is, and even nutter is the tax that I pay to the MTA, but don’t even get me started on that or we’ll be here all night!

It’s the allergies that are making me lose track so much. I’ve been taking shots since mid-April, twice a week with a few exceptions and a five-week hiatus (we went to Spain, remember?). So I’m probably halfway through. You would think at this point I shouldn’t be an allergic basket case for 10 days straight. It’s very frustrating. On Sept. 1st I have scheduled an acupuncture session. No idea if it’s going to help, scared of the word needle, not happy about the trip to Manhattan, but what the heck. It can’t hurt. Maybe just a prick.

I had TWO nights to myself this week! It sounds better than it really is, you’ll see. The first night (Thursday) was fabulous, dinner with Victoria at Thistle Hill, which was fun and delicious. The next day, I got to drive all the way out to JFK all by myself, because finally after 10 days Delta had finally found the small orange suitcase, with black stripes, like a tiger, with big white wheels. On the way back I couldn’t do much day-dreaming because it was the storm from hell and even with the windshield wipers at top speed, I could barely see ten feet ahead of me on Ocean Parkway. The suitcase and I made it back in one piece, and Nico greeted us with a “Hi mama! … oh… MY SUITCASE!!!!!! YOU FOUND MY SUITCASE!!!!!!!!!!!!”. So there.

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Our Life in Brooklyn keeps you updated on what Brent and Teresa Lagerman are up to. Looking at most of the posts you’d think we didn’t spend much time in Brooklyn, we do love to travel, so we’ll take you along as we visit Stuart, Madrid, Syracuse, TX, Washington, and of course we’ll always end up back in Brooklyn.