Posts (page 2)
At least this one will end fairly soon. Or, at least, I know there's a definite end on the horizon.
Chris brought home the first disc of Freaks and Geeks a few weeks ago. How in the world did I miss this show? It's smart, it's funny, it stars people who remind me of people from my own high school days...
Okay, I really like this series. I even tried not to because, well, it's been a while since I've been a fan of period shows set in high school. (American Dreams, anyone?) Plus, it's set in 1980! That was just an awkward time for everyone. (Especially me - I was in kindergarten in Miss Winger's class, and, well, I just really didn't like her.) But somewhere along the line, I got sucked in. We're halfway through it, and I was so bummed that the next installment wouldn't arrive for another day or so.
If you aren't familiar with the show, do yourself a favor and watch it. Jason Segel and Seth Rogen are both in it, and the rest of the cast rocks. It's just a really cute show. I won't say what happened in the last episode we watched last night, but suffice it to say that I was sufficiently bummed for Lindsay (Linda Cardellini's role and the main character). I could explain what I mean by that, but it's a little complicated.
Oh, and the soundtrack is awesome. Go figure - it's set in 1980. But seriously. I think Styx and Journey and Rush should be featured in more television shows. I'm just saying.
Share a song that makes you laugh.
Cracks me up every time, though I'm not sure if it's the song itself or the memories it brings back...
...when the first news story you hear when you wake is that business in the local strip clubs is down.
What kind of a world do we live in where a stripper can't make a decent living?
I've spent the bulk of this past month silently congratulating myself each morning at the ease at which I can get The Boy up, changed, fed, and out the door with minimal fuss and little delay. I could even get his toys (mostly) picked up, and he would even help me!
But, as my sister is quick to remind me, as soon as I have his routine figured out, it changes. Instantly.
He had a really busy weekend, but Chris and I were conscientious about his schedule and made sure we didn't deviate from it too much. On Friday, he skipped his morning nap (too much excitement at IKEA) and didn't take his afternoon nap until around 3, but he slept in an extra hour the next morning. On Saturday, he took his morning nap but skipped his afternoon nap (note to self: do not sit in the back seat if you want the baby to nap in the car) en route to the wedding, but he was back in the car and fast asleep before 7:30 and at home in his crib just after 8 - plus he slept in until 7 the next morning. On Sunday, he took both naps and went to bed at his normal time. We made sure he stayed on schedule.
Yesterday afternoon, it seemed like there was a change in the air. Now, granted, I was home (which rarely happens when he comes home from school), but Chris even said that he seemed a little off his regular routine. When I crawled out of bed at 6, he didn't want to have any dinner at all; he just wanted to nurse and cuddle with Mommy. I was able to get him to eat a tiny piece of chicken, a few pieces of cheese, and half a pear - hardly enough to sustain this growing body considering how much he normally eats. But, I chalked it up to his not feeling well, and he did, after all, eat a hearty breakfast and drink a lot of milk, so I just doubled up his diaper insert and put him to bed.
If ever I questioned a shift in this child's routine, it was verified this morning - and then some.
I let him sleep in until 6:30. This was his usual waking hour for a while, so it didn't seem odd to me. Once he awoke and I collected him from his crib (Tommy Bear was left behind for once), he wanted his pacifiers (one in his mouth and one to carry, of course), then he wanted to be put down and allowed to wander the house. The first stop was my bedroom, where he sought out Daddy and threw himself on the floor in a fit when I told him Daddy had gone to work. (Apparently, that's just not acceptable.) I left the room, and he closed the door after me. Nice, huh? When I opened the door and beckoned him to come out, he obliged, only to throw himself back on the floor in a heap of invisible tears after I closed it.
But, no matter. DJ Lance and the rest of the gang were on TV, and it was the episode where Broby gets to eat lunch! (He perked right up for that!)
After the diaper came off, he decided Yo Gabba Gabba! looks better while standing, so I was treated to my very first standing change this morning. The diapering part wasn't so bad; it was the ointment application part that was ridiculous.
At any rate, once I got the diaper on, he decided the TV was no longer interesting (he's seen this episode before, after all) and went to his room to get a book: Sandra Boynton's Birthday Monsters. As you can guess from the title, it's a book about monsters coming to celebrate a birthday. Only he wasn't interested in the story, just in the pictures of the balloons. At which he kept pointing, over and over and over again.
"Yes, baby, that's a balloon."
"Ah SAT!" ("What's that?" for those who don't speak Toddler.)
"That's a balloon, too."
"Uh tuh SAT?" ("What is that?")
"That's a green balloon."
"Ah SAT!"
"And that's a blue balloon."
"Ah SAT!"
"That's a pink balloon."
"Uh tuh SAT?"
You get the idea.
Oh, and the pages with no balloons? Boooooor-ing. Who knew?
After the book, he crawled into my lap and wanted to nurse. I let him nurse for a little while, then moved him to his high chair... where he proceeded to scream and cry the entire time. He ate a few pieces of pear and three scoops of yogurt, but as soon as pears went flying, I plucked him out of the chair and let him sit on the ground. There, he happily ate three more pear chunks and drank a few sips of milk before returning to the family room and the (now off) TV.
"O abba!" he demanded, pointing at the television.
"It's not time for TV anymore, it's time to eat," I explained, offering a pear chunk. He shook his head, then started to cry and grunt.
When the grunting stopped, I waited about half a minute, then laid him down to change his diaper. Hooray for poops! This time, he didn't fuss, and I was even able to get some socks on him! But no sooner did I get the second one on his foot that he rolled over and crawled to the Little People bin (which I just filled) and began emptying it.
Since he was content, I decided to finish off his uneaten yogurt while he played, thinking that he would surely come back to the kitchen once he saw me eating. And he came to me several times, each time to hand me a different toy. Oh, it wasn't to play with him, though; he just wanted me to hold it for him. After the third time, I got wise and popped a pear chunk in his mouth before he could walk away, and he sat down to chew it, then reached for more.
Success! Or so I thought.
After another half hour of cajoling and pleading for him to eat, he finished half of his pears and most of his milk. At that point, there really wasn't a whole lot more I could do. I put shoes on his feet, then let him guide me out the door to the car.
On our way to school, I decided to listen to normal (read: not children's) music for a change and put the soundtrack to Cirque du Soleil's Love in the CD player. The Boy wasn't a fan. He didn't cry the whole time or anything, but kept talking over it and certainly didn't dance the way he does when Joy Division or the Offspring plays.
And when we got to school, I thought I was home free. Oh, no no no. Silly Mommy! You see, all the kids were outside when we got to class, and The Boy decided the classroom was so much more fun without the other kids there, and he just wanted to sit on the little Dora couch and play with the toys and look at all the books, so he wasn't at all pleased when I took him outside to join his classmates. In fact, he didn't want to be outside at all, but a cup of cold water distracted him until the end of outdoor play (there were only a few minutes left, anyway).
Once he was back indoors (with all his classmates), I was finally able to make my escape. This morning, my ever-so-easy 45-minute morning routine with The Boy was stretched into almost three hours.
Don't get me wrong - I'm not saying I want those three hours back. (No, that's the feeling I got after I finished watching Jumper - horrible movie.) I like hanging out with my son and, fits aside, couldn't think of a better way to spend three hours.
I just wasn't ready for this change!
I left work a few hours early to get some rest because this awful sinus cold is about to drive me insane. (Not that I'm not already there, mind you - just a worse part of insane.)
Anyway, I stopped at the store to pick up a rotisserie chicken for dinner. After all, I didn't feel like eating breakfast, I skipped lunch, and I'm really in no mood to make anything for dinner. So, a pre-cooked bird it would have to be.
And what do you think I did as soon as I got home (after I washed my hands)?
I cut open the chicken... and started cutting up bite-sized pieces to feed to The Boy for dinner.
Never mind that I haven't eaten all day, Never mind that he's got plenty of food in the house. And let's not talk about the fact that I think may have cut up two servings of chicken for him. Oh, no. When I see food, I think of The Boy's tummy first.
So, is this normal, this habit of putting my child's needs/wants before my own? I mean, I assume I'll outgrow it eventually. I can't, after all, imagine myself in another 13 or 14 years fretting about whether The Boy has had enough to eat or is getting enough sleep. Surely he'd be able to fend for himself by then. But at the same time, I have this strange feeling that there will be some other need/want of his that will be exponentially more important than my own.
Of course, it could just me another one of my (many) neuroses...
I don't know how, but I managed to pick up a really bad sinus cold this weekend. And now The Boy has it, too. It's the second cold I've passed on to him. It's only fair, I guess. Lord knows he's given me a lot worse!
Yesterday was my friend Todd's wedding. It was outdoors. In Florida. In the beginning of July. Is there any wonder, then, that The Boy was bright red (even though I kept him in the shade)? He was just really hot. He survived it splendidly, though. I constantly fed him ice water while we were outside, and after just a few minutes inside, he was back to his normal color.
Anyway, he was very well-behaved throughout the ceremony and reception. My husband was told (again) that we need to get The Boy into modeling. I just don't think it's a good scene, really. There's just too much pressure for a little kid, you know? But I told Chris that I wouldn't be opposed to sending in his picture for a Parents Magazine contest. Even then, though, I don't know that I could handle the rejection. He wouldn't care, but I'd be all sorts of annoyed.
We left just after the cake cutting. The Boy was getting tired (it was bedtime, after all). I put him into his pajamas before we left, and he (thankfully) dozed off within minutes of getting into the car. Once we got home (it was an hour drive), I only needed to gently get him from his car seat and deposit him into his crib. He protested a little when I lifted him from his seat, but he seemed grateful to be able to stretch out in bed.
My friend Bekki told me the most exciting news on Friday when we went to their house... She and her husband are expecting a little bundle of happiness sometime in January! I'm so excited, words can't begin to describe. For as long as I've known them, the two of them have repeatedly said that they're not interested in having children. And even after The Boy was born, she was still disinterested. But now she's pregnant! And I'm incredibly stoked for her.
So, The Boy has had an eventful weekend. Friday was a trip to IKEA and an afternoon at Aunt Bekki's and Uncle Doug's where he repeatedly climbed up the stairs (I'm still trying to teach him how to crawl down) and chased their cat - even tracking her under the couch! Chris was feeling poorly, so he took The Boy home while I went with our friends to Todd's rehearsal dinner. (And there was no fuss going down for a late nap, eating dinner, taking vitamins, or any other part of the bedtime routine.) Someone from the bride's side asked me where my husband and child were, and I told them that Chris took him home and put him down. I then added that tuck-in time is one of my favorite parts of the day, but that I was glad to have a night off from being Mom.
Then Saturday was the wedding. I don't want to talk about it. Suffice it to say that I kept The Boy amused throughout the ceremony by blowing bubbles while he fanned them away from him. I wish I had a video camera or asked someone to take pictures because it really was adorable. Oh, and my little cheese connosieur really liked port wine cheese.
Actually, there is one notable thing that happened during the reception. Any time we let The Boy wander on his own, he would make a beeline for either Uncle Doug or Uncle Lipman. It was the funniest thing. He wanted either Uncle Doug or Uncle Lipman to hold him, which is not usual at all. He was also happy going to Aunt Bekki (though I'm putting a stop to that very soon because she's not used to picking up 24 pounds of squirminess - and I'm going to make sure she gets the kid-glove treatment during this first pregnancy) and Mommy and Daddy, of course, but when left to his own devices, he sought out Uncle Doug.
Today, I made him sleep in until 7 (I wanted to sleep in), then reluctantly plucked him out of bed and began our day. Save an hour morning nap and an hour afternoon nap, he was going non-stop for the entire day. It was constant jabbering, constant running, constant playing... I took naps while he napped and still couldn't keep up with him. (Never mind the sinus cold handicap. I still think I ought to be able to keep up with an almost-15-month-old!)
Anyway, a part of me is glad to be heading back to work tomorrow. I need the rest.
I get to leave work early today, so I asked my husband to drop off The Boy. I wanted to get to the office early and finish up all my month-end things.
Anyway, when he collected The Boy from school yesterday, he immediately checked The Boy's diaper, as I asked. The teacher was a little taken aback; she had just changed him, after all, and didn't understand why the child's diaper needed checking. My husband explained that I asked him to do it, and, upon opening the diaper, what do you think he saw?
Lots of powder. No A&D.
He asked why they didn't use any ointment, and she insisted that they did. He kindly informed them that we use more than that at home and that she needs to put more on The Boy. Which she did. And then Chris told her to put more. And then some more. And then a little more.
There. That's how much we use at home.
I'm picking him up this afternoon and will change him before we leave there. I'll see if he's got enough ointment on his bottom. And if he doesn't, I'll follow my husband's lead and camly remind them to use a lot of ointment on The Boy, especially when he has a rash, and show them how much to use if necessary. (I figure they should go through about 3 ounces of this stuff a week.)
Right now I just have to keep reminding myself that it will get better. After all, this morning's diaper change was less of a struggle than yesterday's. And, truth be told, his bum doesn't look nearly as bad as it did from other diaper rashes (like last week's or any of the ones that accompanied his stomach bugs). So, it is getting better.
Slowly.
J got it back up and running!
Of course, I was lectured to never never allow this to happen again.
And now I owe him a gigantic plate of brownies.
I don't think there's a word that accurately describes my mood. "Livid" is the closest that comes to mind, but even that seems very tame by comparison.
So, what is it that has upset me greatly?
Ugh! Where to begin...
My little boy has sensitive skin. He always has. When he was four months old, he reacted so sharply to wheat proteins in my breastmilk that he broke out into a terrible rash all over his body. The doctors said the proteins aggravated his eczema, and I was put on a very strict diet. (I later learned it was wheat causing all the problems; prior to this, it was a mystery and I couldn't eat anything.)
Since he was two days old, I've used A&D on his bottom. Before that, we used Vaseline in the hospital (but that was more for the circumcision than anything). And he only got diaper rashes during stomach bugs and teething spells, all thanks to the accompanying diarrhea.
The Boy has also been in daycare since he was two months and six days old. (Yes, I know the exact date he first went to school. It's permanently etched into my brain.) The entire time he's been there, I've provided his diapers, his wipes, his ointment, several changes of clothing, and, until he transitioned to the Toddler level, his food. (I still provide his proteins on the days they have fish and snacks on days they're eating oats.)
Ever since the transition to the Toddler level, The Boy has had a diaper rash. Sometimes it's worse than others, but, just as his doctor says, when I see to it that he's properly cleaned and sufficiently coated with a thick layer of A&D, the rash clears within days. It's aggravating (and heartbreaking) to send him to school Monday morning with very little to no diaper rash, only to see it reappear and worsen during the week. This past Friday was the worst. When I changed his diaper on Saturday morning, his bottom was so raw, it was bleeding. He also had a rash on his scrotum, the poor kid. The bleeding was finished Saturday afternoon, and by Sunday evening, the rash was gone from his scrotum and almost gone from his tush. I wrote a note for the teachers (and verbally informed them, too) letting them know that he has a bad diaper rash, and they will need to use extra A&D on him. And, oh, by the way: Here's an extra tub.
Last night, Chris told me that one of the teachers said I need to start using Desitin on my baby's bum. Yes, I know it has zinc oxide, and, yes, I know the medication will help soothe the rash. But it's not going to keep the rash from coming back!
This morning, The Boy pooped en route to school. I signed him in, then proceeded to change him. Oh, what a nightmare.
First, the wipes that I brought suddenly went missing. Last week, I brought in two packs. One was used (I get that), but the other is nowhere to be found. The teacher told me that it must have been used and - didn't she tell me I needed to bring some in on Monday? Never mind the head teacher told her (and me) that there were still some in the cabinet. I still should have brought in wipes for him. (Note to self: bring new package of wipes each Monday along with 30 diapers and see how long it takes before said teacher tells me to stop bringing things for him.)
Second, the A&D tub I gave them two months ago is still not empty. How is this remotely possible? I go through one of those a month - and that's if I'm going easy on the stuff! That first tub wasn't even full when I gave it to them. To be fair, of course, it looks like there's about a day's worth of changes left in it. Well, that's if they use as much as they ought with each change. If they use as much as I suspect they do, it would probably last them another week.
And last - what is it with the Desitin? To hear these teachers go on about it, you would think I was the worst mother in the world for not using it on my child! Never mind that not one medical professional has ever told me that it's the best thing to use (they've never said it was bad, either). I've been told Boudreaux's Butt Paste is a much better product than Desitin (and I'm not opposed to getting this for him, either, since it was highly recommended by two pediatric nurses) - it contains zinc oxide and is much easier to wipe off. But his doctor said A&D is just fine - and a little bit of cornstarch to make sure the skin is nice and dry coupled with a thick layer of A&D is all my baby needs to keep his bottom nice and rash-free.
So, the teachers are going on and on about the Desitin, and one of them pulls out this card: "Do you know Ms L? She's a retired pediatrician. Talk to her, and she'll tell you he needs Desitin."
And I'm thinking to myself, "Funny you should mention her. She was one of The Boy's Infant teachers, and I still talk to her several times a week." So, I agreed to speak Ms L, and I silently resolved to do whatever she suggested.
Well, you know what Ms L said when I told her this story? Well, first, she was outraged. No one, and I mean no one, treats one of her babies' bums like that! She was so upset hearing about his chronic diaper rash because he almost never had diaper rash problems under her watch. And then when I told her that they said I needed to get Desitin for him, she was incredulous. "He don't need Desitin," she said in her broken English. "They need change him - a lot - and put Vaseline or A&D." She shook her head and repeated, "He don't need Desitin. Don't worry. I go talk to them on break and say he need clean and change a lot - every hour if need!"
Then she and Ms. A (both of The Boy's Infant teachers) told me to have Chris occasionally spot check The Boy's diaper when he picks up The Boy in the afternoons and make sure (a) it had recently been changed and he was clean and dry and (b) they put lots of goop on his bum. And if they don't? "He needs to speak to the director," Ms A said, forcefully, "and tell them it's not right that the baby gets home with a bleeding bottom because they aren't changing him! The A&D is enough protection and all he needs! You're a good mom, one of my best here. And he doesn't need anything else." Then Ms A lowered her voice and said, "Make sure your husband tells them, because he's a man and they'll listen to him. With you, they just think you don't know."
I love his old teachers.
According to the sheets they send home each day, it looks like he gets changed frequently enough. But neither Chris nor I think those sheets are entirely accurate. One of my coworkers said I need to take inventory of his diapers at the start of each week and see if the numbers add up. I think I'm going to start doing that. After all, if they're sending home sheets that say he gets 4 to 5 diaper changes a day, my pack of 30 diapers should only last a little more than a week. And if the numbers don't add up, well, it means they're either "growing diapers" (as one of the ladies in Finance says when someone is showing a drastic negative shrink) or not changing him as frequently as they say they are.
If that's the issue (which I really hope it's not), it needs to get fixed immediately. In the meantime, I can only hope that they'll listen to Ms L, change him frequently with a thick layer of ointment, and quit making me feel like I'm to blame for his diaper rash because I'm not using Desitin!
J still has the laptop in triage. He's still running a slew of diagnostics, but it appears the hard drive is defective. We'll know tomorrow morning if I need to get on the phone with Dell and argue my case to have them send me a new hard drive (I've had the computer in my possession for less than three weeks, after all). It appears that will likely be the case. Bleh.
In the meantime, the laptop will remain here overnight for observation, and J will have all the test results for me tomorrow.
This just means I actually have to get some rest tonight instead of staring at the laptop all evening.
