It's been over a month since I wrote in this space.
Honestly, I didn't have words. To blournal the small things seemed wrong when the BIG things were looming. But the BIG things felt too overwhelming to write about, and frankly, I just didn't want to vent and moan.
But the truth is, that little pill kicks some serious baby butt. The first few weeks were filled with side effects--horrible, sad side effects that left my sweet boy in physical and emotional pain. That, in turn, left Appa and I nearly bereft for him. Once the side effects tapered off, it became apparent the dose was too low, so we had to increase the dose again, restarting the side effects.
Swallow, melt down, repeat. Swallow, melt down, repeat.
The bad news is that I have a mother's intuition that this dose/particular medication isn't going to be the right fit either. The good news is I have total faith in our doctor and appreciate the slow and conservative approach to medicating a child off label (due to age).
The best news is that Little Bug is still thriving and continuing to improve his knowledge and capability to help himself. We've made some big decisions for his education this Fall that we hope will give him his very best shot at making the most of his last pre-K year. Although we are very much in the present with him right now, we're serious about positioning him for his academic future, and I am excited to start taking advantages of the many unique resources we have available.
As an aside: giving up a master bathroom to get into a really good school district was one of the best decisions I ever made. Way to go, me 6 years ago!
So, the thing is, I need to move on from this. Swallow, melt down, repeat is going to continue for a while, and I can't just censor myself anymore while I wallow in the cycle with my baby love. I'm going to make a concerted effort to blournal more about the daily things like I used to. Maybe I will blournal about Little Bug's new trick of taking his underoos off and peeing on the floor when he gets angry or about Little Bro's daily expository speeches. Maybe I'll blournal about my baby sister moving the the freaking Philippines for an 18-month mission or how she and I wasted an hour and a half watching possibly the most pointless movie in the whole world simply because Adam Brody was in it (my choice).
And Lee Min Ho is filming a new drama. Since Appa just bought me the complete Rosetta stone for Korean, I'm now officially on my way to becoming fluent in my children's' birth language.....right?
Or maybe I will blournal about the week we just spent on my Aunt's farm in Michigan. How Little Bug and Little Bro had smiles mile wide on their faces from morning to night with attitudes to match. How perfect it was.
And can be.
And is.
Showing posts with label staying alive. Show all posts
Showing posts with label staying alive. Show all posts
Saturday, June 9, 2012
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
Airplane 0, Mama 1.
I don't want to relive the meltdown that happened in the beautiful mountain-nestled major airport this morning as I tried to calm my shrieking 2 year old (who was pissed for no reason other than life was boring to him in that moment) while my 3 year old spent a full torturous 25 minutes loudly and violently throwing himself on the ground in fury that we could not board the white plane that had just pulled up to our gate.
And I certainly can't relive the horrific 45 minutes it took me to get my nap-deprived, stamina-challenged 3 year old from the end of our very big home Midwest airport through baggage claim and out to the passenger pick up. I was this close to crying right along with my nap deprived, hot inexplicably screaming 2 year old as his older brother gave up and went limp and refused to walk anymore in the middle of terminal C during rush hour. Your baby laying on the floor in the middle of one of the largest airports in the country is seriously gross.
But on that airplane, I OWNED it. Oh yes, I saw the cringing, dirty looks as the other passengers took their seats next to this poor little young mama with two toddler boys shooting energy out of their eyeballs. I don't blame them....I fully believed those 2.5 hours would be hell on earth. But I was determined to do my best to suck all that hell into myself and make things as easy as possible for my fellow doubters. My voice is hoarse tonight from talking, singing, soothing, teasing, and scolding nonstop. When I stopped talking, reading, singing, or playing my kids started entertaining themselves by dueling screams of fun, so I just kept right on talking and talking and talking.
I even successfully got us all to the bathroom for a diaper change. That alone drew some impressed looks from some ladies. I consider it one of my finer motherhood moments.
And I should mention that I hate flying VERY much and spent the whole time secretly thinking the plane was going to crash at any moment. Making up songs about applesauce and poop (Little Bug's requests for the day) is not easy to do when your internal monologue is making peace with God before your plane goes down.
But as people passed us on their way off the plane, a number of men and women commented to me on how well-behaved my boys were and how impressed they were. Although I was proud of the way my boys and I had handled the flight, it was validating that we did well enough for people to comment to us.
Sometimes that is the best praise a mama can get is that her kids are well behaved.
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
After 2+ Years as Parent....
...a red, painful bottom still sends me into panic.
The attractive, young pediatrician who took my weekend call had a hard time hiding his incredulity as I panicked through my list of symptoms, which included the abnormal and plentiful #2 and a tooshy that was bright red and painful to touch. We've had so much sick time lately that I think I was really asking him to just stop the madness and return my home into a healthy body haven.
Me: Should I take him somewhere?
Him: Where would you take him for diaper rash?
Me: Umm....I don't know. I was just wondering if there was anything I could do torestore my sanity relieve the symptoms.
Him: He's 3? Haven't you dealt with diaper rash before?
Me: Yes. I was just hoping....
Little Bug is still giving us a run (HAhaHa) for our money after a couple days, but things look to be on the mend, and he is finally back to school and Appa and I are finally able to work a full day again.
Just in time for the snow closures.
After 2+ years as a parent, I have learned the two things I will never have control of are my son's bodily fluids and the weather.
The attractive, young pediatrician who took my weekend call had a hard time hiding his incredulity as I panicked through my list of symptoms, which included the abnormal and plentiful #2 and a tooshy that was bright red and painful to touch. We've had so much sick time lately that I think I was really asking him to just stop the madness and return my home into a healthy body haven.
Me: Should I take him somewhere?
Him: Where would you take him for diaper rash?
Me: Umm....I don't know. I was just wondering if there was anything I could do to
Him: He's 3? Haven't you dealt with diaper rash before?
Me: Yes. I was just hoping....
Little Bug is still giving us a run (HAhaHa) for our money after a couple days, but things look to be on the mend, and he is finally back to school and Appa and I are finally able to work a full day again.
Just in time for the snow closures.
After 2+ years as a parent, I have learned the two things I will never have control of are my son's bodily fluids and the weather.
Monday, August 23, 2010
Family. Work. Sleep.
I've spent the last two weeks "hibernating."
In the last 7 days, I got promoted at work. Although this is a very cool thing, it also comes with a client and projects that need significant attention...like yesterday. I also flew across the country for a weekend. I hosted my family for a couple days and then turned around and started hosting my little sister. I attempted (and basically failed) to spend some quality time with my husband, as it has been nearly a month since we had a quality night to ourselves. I raised my kid and he's doing great.
So, by hibernating, I mean that I've drained my life down to the bare essential priorities lately.
Family. Work. Sleep.
I've barely uploaded (or taken) pictures of Little Bug this month. Blogging has been reduced to the barest minimum to preserve my family memories. Facebook is hit or miss. E-mail? What's that?
It's felt odd, but not nearly as odd as I expected it to feel. I don't FEEL disconnected or left out, I simply miss those people who I connect with through blogs and Facebook.
The people, not the medium.
The online community is here to stay in my life. I have made wonderful friendships and will continue to cultivate new ones that will enrich my life and my family's life. Am I going to throw that away? Not a chance. But, I've sort of enjoyed shutting the computer at night and curling up (in bed!) with a book. I've enjoyed turning away from my computer at work to proof a large project with only my iPod, and not Facebook notifications, as my companion. Yahoo? It's about to be a thing of the past.
I'm going to continue to find this balance that seems like it could really start working for me right now with some tweaking. Balancing what (or to be blunt, who and why) my online priorities with my basic life priorities.
Family. Work. Sleep.
In the last 7 days, I got promoted at work. Although this is a very cool thing, it also comes with a client and projects that need significant attention...like yesterday. I also flew across the country for a weekend. I hosted my family for a couple days and then turned around and started hosting my little sister. I attempted (and basically failed) to spend some quality time with my husband, as it has been nearly a month since we had a quality night to ourselves. I raised my kid and he's doing great.
So, by hibernating, I mean that I've drained my life down to the bare essential priorities lately.
Family. Work. Sleep.
I've barely uploaded (or taken) pictures of Little Bug this month. Blogging has been reduced to the barest minimum to preserve my family memories. Facebook is hit or miss. E-mail? What's that?
It's felt odd, but not nearly as odd as I expected it to feel. I don't FEEL disconnected or left out, I simply miss those people who I connect with through blogs and Facebook.
The people, not the medium.
The online community is here to stay in my life. I have made wonderful friendships and will continue to cultivate new ones that will enrich my life and my family's life. Am I going to throw that away? Not a chance. But, I've sort of enjoyed shutting the computer at night and curling up (in bed!) with a book. I've enjoyed turning away from my computer at work to proof a large project with only my iPod, and not Facebook notifications, as my companion. Yahoo? It's about to be a thing of the past.
I'm going to continue to find this balance that seems like it could really start working for me right now with some tweaking. Balancing what (or to be blunt, who and why) my online priorities with my basic life priorities.
Family. Work. Sleep.
Monday, July 12, 2010
Riding in Cars With One Boy
I think I have become a lot more laid back in my mothering in the last few years. Once over-vigilant to the point of obsession, I'm now more apt to let my kid go ahead and eat that cracker he found under the couch....if it has dust on it, he'll spit it out. I let him plop his butt in mud....shorts can be washed, usually with the hose like the rest of his body. I let him run sans clothes (but with diaper) in our backyard...I never quite figured out why I was so opposed to that one for so long.
But I'm still struggling with one area of unwavering resolve....leaving him in the car.
When I was little, I was left in the car while my mom popped into the gas station or pizza place. I'm confident that leaving the air conditioning on would protect my son from cooking inside out while I take 2 minutes to buy a DDP and a chocolate milk on our way to a park date or drop a library book off inside the library.
Yet, I cannot do it. I tell myself as I pull into the parking lot and gather my things while leaving the car running that he will be fine in plain view for a minute or two, but at the last minute, I chicken out and turn the car off, unbuckle my kid, and drag him into the gas station. Neither one of us is super thrilled with this decision.
I'm not sure if it is because my anxiety of the horror stories you hear of babies in extreme heat gets the better of me or if I am somehow envisioning someone stealing my car and my kid, or if my phobia of a car slipping out of park and into traffic is at play, but I cannot, despite my best attempts, leave my child unattended in the car for longer than it takes to run the video into the rental drop box or return a shopping cart.
Just a small look into the inner workings of a neurotic mama-in-progress.
But I'm still struggling with one area of unwavering resolve....leaving him in the car.
When I was little, I was left in the car while my mom popped into the gas station or pizza place. I'm confident that leaving the air conditioning on would protect my son from cooking inside out while I take 2 minutes to buy a DDP and a chocolate milk on our way to a park date or drop a library book off inside the library.
Yet, I cannot do it. I tell myself as I pull into the parking lot and gather my things while leaving the car running that he will be fine in plain view for a minute or two, but at the last minute, I chicken out and turn the car off, unbuckle my kid, and drag him into the gas station. Neither one of us is super thrilled with this decision.
I'm not sure if it is because my anxiety of the horror stories you hear of babies in extreme heat gets the better of me or if I am somehow envisioning someone stealing my car and my kid, or if my phobia of a car slipping out of park and into traffic is at play, but I cannot, despite my best attempts, leave my child unattended in the car for longer than it takes to run the video into the rental drop box or return a shopping cart.
Just a small look into the inner workings of a neurotic mama-in-progress.
Friday, March 12, 2010
"Hi, Doctor."
This morning Little Bug was having a serious meltdown. Serious. Real tears, thrashing, trying to gag himself to throw up (I don't know where he learned that trick, and thankfully has hasn't been able to pull the trigger, but COME ON!), etc.
The reason? I was trying to put on his clothes. You know, the type of injustice tantrums were made for.
So at one particularly violent part of this tantrum, I took his face firmly in my hands and turned it so we could make eye contact and I could let him know that I was kind of over this.
The blood gushing out his nose stopped that train of thought. Lots of bright red blood coming out of one nostril. Oh, God.
I'm really lucky that for as clumsy and uncoordinated as my sweet boy is, he rarely bleeds. Unfortunately, that means when I do see blood, this first-time mama sort of internally freaks out. It took me about 3 minutes to get the blood to stop and get him settled with some Thomas the Train (which he has never been interested in before, in part because I try to shield him from it because I find it incredibly creepy). It took me another 5 minutes before he would let me get near his face to wash the dried blood off. I figured his school would appreciate that one. PS: totally late for work at this point.
The whole time I'm thinking through the possible reasons for this nosebleed. Cancer? Brain hemorrhage? Blunt Trauma? Dry air? Picking his nose? Cancer? Brain hemorrhage? His cold? Random luck? Cancer? Brain hemorrhage?
Seth is a head banger when he tantrums, so I'm a little oversensitive about his head, which I think is why I kept worrying that this was somehow a manifestation of one-too-many whacks on the hardwood floor. Appa, who was not available this morning, is usually so calm and logical, but when it comes to Little Bug, he is as over vigilant as I am. So of course he was concerned when I called him and strongly suggested I take Little Bug to the doctor.
"Hi, Doctor. My son had a nose bleed this morning. It stopped. It's just a single instance. He has a cold, and I forgot to turn on his humidifier last night. Clearly he has cancer or a brain hemorrhage, don't you agree?"
I'll bet the doctor actually hears that a couple times a week. I'm going to call the doctor when the office opens, and I will bet you his nurse will tell me in the kindest terms possible to chill the heck out and remember to turn on the humidifier tonight.
The reason? I was trying to put on his clothes. You know, the type of injustice tantrums were made for.
So at one particularly violent part of this tantrum, I took his face firmly in my hands and turned it so we could make eye contact and I could let him know that I was kind of over this.
The blood gushing out his nose stopped that train of thought. Lots of bright red blood coming out of one nostril. Oh, God.
I'm really lucky that for as clumsy and uncoordinated as my sweet boy is, he rarely bleeds. Unfortunately, that means when I do see blood, this first-time mama sort of internally freaks out. It took me about 3 minutes to get the blood to stop and get him settled with some Thomas the Train (which he has never been interested in before, in part because I try to shield him from it because I find it incredibly creepy). It took me another 5 minutes before he would let me get near his face to wash the dried blood off. I figured his school would appreciate that one. PS: totally late for work at this point.
The whole time I'm thinking through the possible reasons for this nosebleed. Cancer? Brain hemorrhage? Blunt Trauma? Dry air? Picking his nose? Cancer? Brain hemorrhage? His cold? Random luck? Cancer? Brain hemorrhage?
Seth is a head banger when he tantrums, so I'm a little oversensitive about his head, which I think is why I kept worrying that this was somehow a manifestation of one-too-many whacks on the hardwood floor. Appa, who was not available this morning, is usually so calm and logical, but when it comes to Little Bug, he is as over vigilant as I am. So of course he was concerned when I called him and strongly suggested I take Little Bug to the doctor.
"Hi, Doctor. My son had a nose bleed this morning. It stopped. It's just a single instance. He has a cold, and I forgot to turn on his humidifier last night. Clearly he has cancer or a brain hemorrhage, don't you agree?"
I'll bet the doctor actually hears that a couple times a week. I'm going to call the doctor when the office opens, and I will bet you his nurse will tell me in the kindest terms possible to chill the heck out and remember to turn on the humidifier tonight.
Saturday, February 20, 2010
98% Whine, 2% Confession
I had high hopes of posting a special blournal entry about the fun mommy/son date Little Bug and I had on Wednesday (I took time off work and Little Bug out of daycare and canceled his therapy), but almost immediately after I got home, my week went in a couple directions I had not expected.
From Wednesday afternoon to Friday afternoon, Appa and I found ourselves faced with a pretty heavy and unexpected decision. Not a bad decision, by any means, but not one we had been prepared in advance to make. Ultimately, we made the choice that was best for everyone involved. It wasn't easy (especially in my condition, as you will see below), and it was a stressful couple of days.
The first night I had a horrible night filled with hot flashes and chills and hallucinations. I thought that it was stress from the situation. A pretty extreme reaction, to be sure, but as I do have some anxiety issues and this was a highly stressful situation, it made sense to me that I would react in such a way.
But once I was at work on Thursday, it became apparent it was not stress, but an actual illness causing my significant discomfort and making me plot out my escape route to the bathroom during a department breakfast filled with greasy eggs and meats.
I made it through about half the day before I went home and slept for the next 9 hours. I figured the stress was compounding whatever 24-hour bug my "carrier monkey" had shared with me. I didn't consider going to the doctor because I assumed it would all just go away.
We all know why you should never assume....
Blessed Friday morning came and my a$$y self found a lack of pretty much any sort of coherence. Appa had to stay home from work to take me to the doctor and make sure I could function.
ARE.YOU.KIDDING.ME. I've been sick more times that I can count recently. This is uncool.
Oh, but it can get more uncool, apparently.
I'm waiting to have it confirmed for sure on Monday morning (due to a miscommunication with my doctor, it was not confirmed on Friday like I thought it was), but it looks pretty much like I have a serious virus that takes 6-8 weeks to recover from. You know, because I totally have 6-8 weeks to lay around feeling like death.
What job? What 2 year old?
It's frustrating. My husband has basically taken on the role of single dad for the past few days. My interaction with my son has been limited to the times when he manages to race past Appa and burst into our bedroom chanting "Mama, Mama" as he pops up with his perfect grin to my side of the bed. Sometimes during my 5-10 hour "naps" I could hear him downstairs chanting my name and it broke.my.heart.
Which is why I am on the computer today.
Yes, I've been camped out in our recliner. Yes, I smell horrible (I try to shower and then lose my energy before I can shampoo and just sit down until the water turns cold). Yes, I'm trying to swallow down applesauce or pudding just to get some calories. Yes, I've been taking some cat naps.
But I am also trying really hard to work through this. It's not easy. I'm actually quite sick, and honestly, I am a big baby when it comes to being sick. I don't usually grin and bear it quietly. Appa gets up and does the dishes and martyrs around when he is sick. I moan and complain and pitifully sip my ice water while give Appa a play-by-play of my many ailments. He is a saint for putting up with me because I would drive myself nuts.
But I miss my boys. I miss talking to my husband, and I miss spending time with my son. The idea that this hellish feeling will go on for 6-8 more weeks is something I just cannot believe. There is this hope inside me that if I just take it easy for a few more days, things will go back to normal.
Maybe it will. I won't know for sure until Monday.
But today I have tried to be present for my family. I watched the Olympics with my husband and rocked my son to sleep for his nap. I'm feeling better today than I have the last two days, so that's a positive. As the day has gone on, I've gotten more and more lucid and functioning. I'm not myself, no, but I'm also not the moaning corpse I was for the last two days. Maybe tomorrow will be even a little bit better.
I'm not sure what I am going to do about work. Career-wise, this is pretty much the worst period of time for me to take an extended leave from work; I have a redesign for a newsletter I am just starting to manage that is going to need critical attention this week. I can't even think about the PTO that will be sucked dry; PTO that was being saved for my second honeymoon in April. A vacation already booked.
So, there are my whines and confessions. I am sick, smelly, tired, achy, feeling sorry for myself, and overall just a big baby about the whole business. I consider it a victory that I had enough energy to blog while the boys escaped the sick house this afternoon.
Is it bad that the only bright spot in all this is that I'll have a much better looking (if only temporary and unhealthily obtained) swim suit body in Jamaica?
Fingers crossed I can kick this soon.
Oh, and as for how I might have gotten this lovely little virus. Turns out that the mysterious illness that took Little Bug down hardcore a few weeks ago was most likely not a weird strain of the flu. It's was what I now have (that he so graciously shared with me via shared spoons and open cup practice). In babies, it's much different and remains for a much shorter period of time and is rarely diagnosed until it is passed on to a parent. Nice, sign us up for that case study. Sigh, I guess if I had to choose between him being sick for 6 weeks or me being sick for 6 weeks, I'd definitely choose myself.
Kids and their germs, man, kids and their germs....
From Wednesday afternoon to Friday afternoon, Appa and I found ourselves faced with a pretty heavy and unexpected decision. Not a bad decision, by any means, but not one we had been prepared in advance to make. Ultimately, we made the choice that was best for everyone involved. It wasn't easy (especially in my condition, as you will see below), and it was a stressful couple of days.
The first night I had a horrible night filled with hot flashes and chills and hallucinations. I thought that it was stress from the situation. A pretty extreme reaction, to be sure, but as I do have some anxiety issues and this was a highly stressful situation, it made sense to me that I would react in such a way.
But once I was at work on Thursday, it became apparent it was not stress, but an actual illness causing my significant discomfort and making me plot out my escape route to the bathroom during a department breakfast filled with greasy eggs and meats.
I made it through about half the day before I went home and slept for the next 9 hours. I figured the stress was compounding whatever 24-hour bug my "carrier monkey" had shared with me. I didn't consider going to the doctor because I assumed it would all just go away.
We all know why you should never assume....
Blessed Friday morning came and my a$$y self found a lack of pretty much any sort of coherence. Appa had to stay home from work to take me to the doctor and make sure I could function.
ARE.YOU.KIDDING.ME. I've been sick more times that I can count recently. This is uncool.
Oh, but it can get more uncool, apparently.
I'm waiting to have it confirmed for sure on Monday morning (due to a miscommunication with my doctor, it was not confirmed on Friday like I thought it was), but it looks pretty much like I have a serious virus that takes 6-8 weeks to recover from. You know, because I totally have 6-8 weeks to lay around feeling like death.
What job? What 2 year old?
It's frustrating. My husband has basically taken on the role of single dad for the past few days. My interaction with my son has been limited to the times when he manages to race past Appa and burst into our bedroom chanting "Mama, Mama" as he pops up with his perfect grin to my side of the bed. Sometimes during my 5-10 hour "naps" I could hear him downstairs chanting my name and it broke.my.heart.
Which is why I am on the computer today.
Yes, I've been camped out in our recliner. Yes, I smell horrible (I try to shower and then lose my energy before I can shampoo and just sit down until the water turns cold). Yes, I'm trying to swallow down applesauce or pudding just to get some calories. Yes, I've been taking some cat naps.
But I am also trying really hard to work through this. It's not easy. I'm actually quite sick, and honestly, I am a big baby when it comes to being sick. I don't usually grin and bear it quietly. Appa gets up and does the dishes and martyrs around when he is sick. I moan and complain and pitifully sip my ice water while give Appa a play-by-play of my many ailments. He is a saint for putting up with me because I would drive myself nuts.
But I miss my boys. I miss talking to my husband, and I miss spending time with my son. The idea that this hellish feeling will go on for 6-8 more weeks is something I just cannot believe. There is this hope inside me that if I just take it easy for a few more days, things will go back to normal.
Maybe it will. I won't know for sure until Monday.
But today I have tried to be present for my family. I watched the Olympics with my husband and rocked my son to sleep for his nap. I'm feeling better today than I have the last two days, so that's a positive. As the day has gone on, I've gotten more and more lucid and functioning. I'm not myself, no, but I'm also not the moaning corpse I was for the last two days. Maybe tomorrow will be even a little bit better.
I'm not sure what I am going to do about work. Career-wise, this is pretty much the worst period of time for me to take an extended leave from work; I have a redesign for a newsletter I am just starting to manage that is going to need critical attention this week. I can't even think about the PTO that will be sucked dry; PTO that was being saved for my second honeymoon in April. A vacation already booked.
So, there are my whines and confessions. I am sick, smelly, tired, achy, feeling sorry for myself, and overall just a big baby about the whole business. I consider it a victory that I had enough energy to blog while the boys escaped the sick house this afternoon.
Is it bad that the only bright spot in all this is that I'll have a much better looking (if only temporary and unhealthily obtained) swim suit body in Jamaica?
Fingers crossed I can kick this soon.
Oh, and as for how I might have gotten this lovely little virus. Turns out that the mysterious illness that took Little Bug down hardcore a few weeks ago was most likely not a weird strain of the flu. It's was what I now have (that he so graciously shared with me via shared spoons and open cup practice). In babies, it's much different and remains for a much shorter period of time and is rarely diagnosed until it is passed on to a parent. Nice, sign us up for that case study. Sigh, I guess if I had to choose between him being sick for 6 weeks or me being sick for 6 weeks, I'd definitely choose myself.
Kids and their germs, man, kids and their germs....
Friday, February 12, 2010
Trying to Keep My Kid Alive, Part I
As the oldest of 5 kids and a master babysitter, I used to think I was pretty prepared for the dramas of keeping a child alive.
Then I got a kid.
I remember the first time Little Bug got a high fever. Appa was out of town and I looked at that 103.5 on the thermometer and just froze. I second guessed all the actions I should take that ran through my head, which sadly, were very few. It took a late night house call by Jeff's aunt and a call to the pediatrician to convince me that Little Bug was probably going to be okay.
Things like that happen all the time now. I think I've got a handle of the parenthood thing and then something happens that leaves Appa and I momentarily staring at each other with that wide-eyed looked, like "Holy crap, what the hell are we supposed to do about THAT?"
You know, like this morning when Little Bug decided to have glass for breakfast.
Now, we don't have glass lying around as a pre-breakfast snack option, but apparently there was a bit of glass from an accident a few weeks back that had somehow managed to hide. Until my 2 year old found it with his "naughty radar." (PLEASE don't think we intentionally leave glass shards laying around.)
So, that is how we started our morning. I was making lunch while Little Bug munched happily on some cheerios and played with his toys when he started crunching on something a little more violently. It took another crunch or two before Appa and I had that moment of eye contact where we both looked at each other and realized something was not right.
Yeah, try the blood coming out of my kid's mouth. That constitutes "not right."
So we sprang into action, sweeping his mouth and trying to rinse it out. He had a cut on the side of his lip and we managed to get a small chunk of the glass out, but we honestly don't know how much, if any, he ingested.
Then our novice parenting kicked in. What does one do when your kid might have ingested glass? I'm envisioning his innards slowly ripping apart, and Appa is envisioning violent puking episodes. We stood there in our kitchen staring at each other, late for work and trying to figure out what to do for our son, who was pissed that he was out of cheerios.
Ultimately, after consulting our books and some online medical items (our pediatrician was not open yet), we decided to let his school know to watch for certain symptoms and call me immediately should anything seem amiss.
So there it is. Another humbling edition of "Trying to keep my kid alive." Needless to say, I'll be doing a hands and knees mop of our floor tonight and hugging Little Bug a little closer. Next time one of my kids eats glass, which I'd like to hope will be never, at least we'll already be a well-oiled machine.
Keeping a child alive is hard work.
Then I got a kid.
I remember the first time Little Bug got a high fever. Appa was out of town and I looked at that 103.5 on the thermometer and just froze. I second guessed all the actions I should take that ran through my head, which sadly, were very few. It took a late night house call by Jeff's aunt and a call to the pediatrician to convince me that Little Bug was probably going to be okay.
Things like that happen all the time now. I think I've got a handle of the parenthood thing and then something happens that leaves Appa and I momentarily staring at each other with that wide-eyed looked, like "Holy crap, what the hell are we supposed to do about THAT?"
You know, like this morning when Little Bug decided to have glass for breakfast.
Now, we don't have glass lying around as a pre-breakfast snack option, but apparently there was a bit of glass from an accident a few weeks back that had somehow managed to hide. Until my 2 year old found it with his "naughty radar." (PLEASE don't think we intentionally leave glass shards laying around.)
So, that is how we started our morning. I was making lunch while Little Bug munched happily on some cheerios and played with his toys when he started crunching on something a little more violently. It took another crunch or two before Appa and I had that moment of eye contact where we both looked at each other and realized something was not right.
Yeah, try the blood coming out of my kid's mouth. That constitutes "not right."
So we sprang into action, sweeping his mouth and trying to rinse it out. He had a cut on the side of his lip and we managed to get a small chunk of the glass out, but we honestly don't know how much, if any, he ingested.
Then our novice parenting kicked in. What does one do when your kid might have ingested glass? I'm envisioning his innards slowly ripping apart, and Appa is envisioning violent puking episodes. We stood there in our kitchen staring at each other, late for work and trying to figure out what to do for our son, who was pissed that he was out of cheerios.
Ultimately, after consulting our books and some online medical items (our pediatrician was not open yet), we decided to let his school know to watch for certain symptoms and call me immediately should anything seem amiss.
So there it is. Another humbling edition of "Trying to keep my kid alive." Needless to say, I'll be doing a hands and knees mop of our floor tonight and hugging Little Bug a little closer. Next time one of my kids eats glass, which I'd like to hope will be never, at least we'll already be a well-oiled machine.
Keeping a child alive is hard work.
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