MY FEEP!

C-Rex jumped off the couch at daycare. The sitter was just across the room cleaning up from lunch, and CR and another boy were both standing on the couch. She told them they needed to sit down or get off, and they both jumped off the couch. CR hit the floor hard - but on his feet, gave a yell and started screaming. She called me right away, (I could hear him screaming in the background) and I told her to watch it for a while and call me if he were still crying in 30min. She called back 15min later and said she thought it was getting worse and asked if I would be OK with her giving him some Tylenol. I said yes.

So I cut my errands short and hurried back to get him. She had finally calmed him down a bit, but he of course started crying again as soon as he saw me. We got him to the doctor, but while we were sitting and waiting I was looking at his foot and ankle - wiggling them around - and nothing seemed swollen or discolored. Nothing looked wrong, but when I put him on the floor he curled his left foot under his bum and cried out, "my feep! my feep!" The doctor came in and asked me to take off his pants so he could look at his whole leg. He took both legs and bent them up and down, stating, "his hips are OK, and his knees. His thighbone is good. His ankle and toes and all of the bones in his feet" (this as he carefully fingered each bone in turn). Then he took the boy's calf in his hands - firmly but gently - and CR flipped out, screaming, "Hey! TOP IT! TOP IT! Owie! My feep!!"

The doctor said he was pretty sure it was broken and sent us to the hospital for an x-ray. At the hospital the admissions girl was surly and rude. She couldn't find the order for the x-ray and kept us sitting there for 20min. Finally she got everything she needed and sent us over to radiology. They took the films - C-Rex hated it b/c he had to hold his leg out straight and not move. Plus he was not digging the little lead apron they wanted to cover his boy bits with. I had to hold him down for the pictures, but we got through it. Then we waited for the films to be read and for further instructions from the doctor. The word finally comes down that, yes, he has a broken leg. In fact, he has *two* broken bones. The verdict is "non-displaced buckle fracture of the tibia and the fibula."

All this time the boy's mood is surprisingly upbeat considering the fact that he has two broken bones and has not had a nap.
Finally we went back to the doctor's office where we waited another million years and finally ended up with a blue cast that goes from his mid-thigh down to his toes. The casting process was the worst part of the day. He had to be held down by two people (me and a medical student) while the nurse and the doctor wrapped his leg in the casting material. He screamed and tried to thrash and kick, and we were holding him down! It seemed like it was never going to end!

Of course, it did, but that only left me with a very unhappy boy with a massive new weight holding him down. He wanted it OFF and tried and tried and TRIED, crying "pease! pease! I need on!" (He doesn't get the difference between off and on all that well).

He's sleeping now, but I don't know what kind of a night I've got ahead of me. By the end of the day he was crawling around well enough, but he's still pretty ticked that he can't stand up. He's got to have the cast on for at least four and a half weeks, and I can't bathe him in the meantime. I guess he'll be a bit ripe for the next month or so.

So that's my saga. Honestly, I'm surprised it took him this long to end up at the hospital, as I've been expecting it for the last year or so - ever since he became mobile, really. I thought it would be a cracked open skull, but a broken bone is just as good.

I'm exhausted - it's been a LONG, crazy day.

Six-year-old girls and body image issues

Coio has always been a very petite child. She was born little (5lbs 11oz), and due to some sensory defensiveness issues, she has never gained weight very well. At her birthday checkup this year she weighed in at just over 30 lbs.

We have gotten comments on how skinny/thin/tiny/etc. she is since she was about 18 months, and I've always tried to be positive. Yes she's petite, but that doesn't mean she's not a healthy child.

Well, all of the talk about how small she is, how little she weighs, etc. and the fact that she is a kindergartner in a K-1 classroom, has born some fruit: today, after asking me if there are any "skinny" girls in my class (I teach grades 3-4), she told me that she is skinny, and that I'm sort of fat.

Augh.

I responded calmly, saying that no I'm not fat. My body is just the right size for me, but inside I was freaking out. She's ONLY SIX! She's got years ahead of her to obsess about size and weight. Can't she be a little girl for a bit longer, please?

WFMW - The metoo Seat

This week's Works For Me Wednesday is a tribute to the Phil and Ted's metoo. I looked around for a good, simple, chair that I could use for C-Rex. We have a very small apartment, and floor space, especially in the kitchen is at a premium. There was just no way I could fit a high chair in there. Unfortunately, most everything I found was huge, bulky and impractical.

Until I discovered the metoo. It is lightweight (weighs only two pounds!) and collapses to just one inch thick. It's nylon, so it wipes clean with just a washcloth, although one time in the summer I took the garden hose to it after an outdoor cookout. No need to wrangle off the washable cover or any such nonsense. I've found that it attaches to most tables, although I have had problems with foldable picnic tables. Phil and Ted's is a great company with an impeccable reputation, so you can buy with impunity.

Check it out, but don't blame me if you're tempted to chuck your bulky highchair.

WFMW - Be A DIVA!

My humble submission for this week's Works for Me Wednesday, hosted over at Rocks in My Dryer is the Diva Cup, hands down the most life-altering product I've ever used. In high school - as I dashed from class to the crowded girls' bathroom during my five minute pass period in a vain attempt to deal with my leaking tampon without being tardy for 3rd period English - I used to dream about a product I could put in place at the beginning of the day and not worry about until bedtime. Back then I thought my dream was hopeless, but then I discovered the Diva. The Diva Cup is a soft silicone cup that is worn inside the body like a tampon, but instead of absorbing blood, it simply catches and holds it until you are ready to deal with it. The only catch is that you have to be comfortable dealing with your own body fluids. You will get blood on your fingers, but - as I tell my six-year-old when she begins to freak out over dirty hands - they will wash. It is a small price to pay for TRUE freedom during your period.

I wish I had had this product as a teen, and I fully intend to induct my daughter into the Diva club when she comes of age. It Works For Me!

Stomach Flu Bites - WARNING: This Post is NOT for the Faint of Heart!

My entire family came down with a nasty bug this week. It started on Monday night when C-Rex vomited all over me at 4:30 AM. Things went downhill from there. He developed diarrhea, but then - bizarrely - he seemed to be better on Wednesday, and we went to school without incident. After his nap that afternoon, though, he started vomiting again landing a spectacular shot right down the front of my shirt. Picture me attempting to calm a crying baby while trying NOT to toss my own cookies due to the fact that I've got a lake of vomit formed inside my bra.

It was nasty.

That night was Coio's birthday. We had cake, and she got the Barbie Mariposa (she's got wings, so she gets a green light in our no-Barbie home). She was thrilled. That night Tilo slept in the living room so his sleep wouldn't be interrupted by a sick and fussy baby (gosh, how would it be?). Coio took advantage of his absence by climbing into bed with me at some point in the middle of the night. Then at 3:30, SHE vomited all over me and the bed and everything.

Amazingly, C-Rex slept through the whole episode - the crying, "I vomited! My pants are wet! The cleaning up of the mess. The vomiting AGAIN - repeated three times. It took up much of the wee morning hours. In the meantime, Tilo told me HE was sick, and my frantic dash to the bathroom told me that I had not dodged this bullet either. We got up at 6:30.

We were all in a bad way. Coio impressed me by jumping up off the couch and darting to the bathroom twice to vomit in the toilet - making it both times. She never had diarrhea and recovered much more quickly than anyone else in the house.

Tilo and I stumbled through the day as best we could. C-Rex, who by then hadn't vomited in almost 24 hours, continued (and continues to this moment) to have unpleasantly pungent and watery diapers, but he has been remarkably cheery throughout the whole ordeal.

Everyone else is back to normal. Five by five.

Hair Help!

This week's Works For Me Wednesday works in reverse. That means I get to post a question for y'all to answer, and, boy, I've got a doozy.

My life is full of hair drama. Coio - who turns six TODAY (wow!) has long, fine hair. It can be quite pretty, but most of the time it's a tangly, snarly mess. We do braided ponytails most days because I can't handle the trauma of combing out hair that has been through the day of an energetic little girl.

But yesterday, out of the blue, she announced that she wants to cut her hair. I'm astounded, as every time I've even mentioned it she has responded with adamant protestations that she *loves* her hair and wants to keep it LONG.

I'm happy to turn over the task of hair care, but I want to make sure I don't leave her with a task that is too much. So my question to you is this: how much hair can a six-year-old manage, and what can I do to help her take responsibility for her own head?

Thanks!

And Here Comes the Diarrhea

Oh. Joy.

Rude Awakening

There's nothing like being jolted awake at 4:30 AM by projectile vomit.

C-Rex had a rough night. He couldn't get to sleep and was twitchy all night. Finally he was still and quiet, and I thought we'd be good till morning.

We almost made it.

I awoke to the sound of impending vomit. I heard it coming, and there was nothing I could do but sit up and try not to get too much of it on me. He coughed and puked and then laid (lay?) back down and went back to sleep without much fuss. We tried to clean up around him as best we could - don't worry, he wasn't in it - thinking it was just something from dinner that had bothered his tummy.

No dice. Just a few short minutes later I heard it again, and this time it got everywhere. So I got up and got him cleaned up - even putting him in the bath to wash his hair.

Since then we've been through the cycle of nurse/vomit a dozen times. I'm not looking forward to the rest of this day.

It's all over

C-Rex has accomplished the inevitable. Yesterday he succeeded in climbing up onto one of the kitchen chairs.

Nothing is safe anymore. It's only a matter of time before I find him in the middle of the kitchen table, on the counter-top or even attempting to scale the fridge.

The countdown to his first trip to the ER starts right . . .

NOW!

OH! It's Wednesday!

Gosh, how did that happen?

OK - Works for Me Wednesday, round two: Peaceful bedtime.

Coio is a typical five-year old (for another week, anyway). Up until recently bedtime has been bath-jams-teeth-prayer-story-nightnight music . . . followed by an hour of trips to the bathroom (for obvious reasons) or the kitchen (I need a drink!!) or living room (I just have to tell you something . . . ).

But that has all stopped.

A few weeks ago I told her she could come out of her room three times - not counting bathroom trips - and that after that her bedroom door would be closed. Now, her door is usually left cracked, but she does have a nice night-light, so it wouldn't be totally dark. Since she wants her door open, she took to the routine very quickly. Now she carefully keeps track of the times she comes out of her room, and after two times out she stays in bed.

AAAHHHHH, peace.

It works for me!

Ho ho ho!

For Christmas this year I got just what I wanted: teething. Well, OK, I got a Microsoft Zune, but the teeth are what I was really looking forward to. And not just any teeth; no sissy incisors that slice their way easily through the gums. No, I'm talking MOLARS.

You know what I'm talking about. The inconsolable fussiness. The resistance of anything with more consistency than an overripe banana. The nights that go on and on forever. Being awake at 2AM.

Good times.

I'm Convinced

Being a stay-at-home-mom is not for me. I enjoyed being home with Coio when she was a baby - but I started working from home when she was one and a half and have worked ever since. Today was my first day home with the kids, by myself, since C-Rex was a newborn. My parents are out of town, so it was just us three, and I darn near drove myself mad. Being alone with two little people and my thoughts is NOT my idea of a good time. So, no, I don't want to be a SAHM. I'm seriously looking for work.

Today I called on a CNA job posting from the classifieds, and it's just not going to work. The available hours won't work for me, and I don't really want to change sheets. So I don't know about nursing school. I'd really like to do it, but I don't know if I can. Maybe I'll try to get a job at a bank. Part time if possible for now with the idea that when C-Rex is a bit bigger I could go back to work full time.

What would be really cool would be for Suzanne to be able to work her magic and get me hired on as a virtual whatever for her university. She's doing what she can, but it's anyone's guess how long it could be before I'd have a bead on whether or not it will work out.

I'm feeling desperate today, but it's probably largely due to the fact that I didn't have anything to do today but obsess about work and money. I'm hopeful that tomorrow - when things go back to semi-normal - I'll be able to relax a bit.

Oh CRAP!

Literally.

Taco was enjoying his diaper-free time this morning, which is something we do frequently. We're EC-ers, so we've been pottying since he was born. He's in the middle of a long-running potty strike right now, though. Anyway, this morning, during his diaper-free time, he pooped on the kitchen floor and then spread it all over the place. Yuck.

At least it was on the vinyl floor and not the carpet, but I don't think we'll be having diaper-free time anymore. That's not a mess I want to clean up on a regular basis.

How to Fix a Computer - A Parable on Discipline

So you've got a problem with your computer. You've tried everything. You've tried rubbing it with a feather, and you've tried hitting it with a brick. Nothing works.

Someone who knows a thing or two about fixing computers says, "Hey why don't you try these keystrokes?" or maybe offers you a book about computer repair.

NO! You insist. I'm going to fix this computer MY WAY; and you go back to the feather and the brick.

There are OTHER OPTIONS besides the feather or the brick. I'm a well-trained computer repair person. I really know what I'm doing. I've studied a lot, and I've tons of practice.

It's not that Mr. T isn't capable of repairing the computer, it's that he doesn't t know how. Why won't he let me teach him how to fix the darn thing?

___

Why is it that parenting skills are so disrespected? I'm GOOD at it. I've read tons of books and spent hours both online and IRL talking with other moms about strategies and problem solving methods. I've learned how to get an uncooperative kid to go to bed without resorting to yelling and threats (most of the time), and I know the importance of not micromanaging her eating habits. I know all of this stuff because I've worked at it for YEARS.

Mr. T seems to think that it's just a matter of personal style. The problem with this line of thinking is that it assumes that anyone can be a good parent just because they made a baby. Parenting takes work, and just like any other job there are skills one must master in order to do it well. I don't get why helpful advice from an expert in the field (if I do say so myself) is any more offensive than computer repair advice from the Best Buy Geek Squad.

But what do I know? Best I can hope for is that he'll try a different brick next time.