There are few things that strike fear into a mothers' heart more than the unmistakeable sound of a child vomiting. Yesterday was scary. Very scary.
K started just before lunch, and the poor bub is still too little to understand what is going on. Of course, my dear, sweet husband is out of town. And God love him, he is a great dad, but bodily function desensitization didn't kick in with him like it has with me. A mom will make a bowl with her hands to grab vomit before it hits the floor. Dad is usually gagging with his back turned. But a gopher for paper towels would have been handy.
So here are a few of my suggestions for getting through the day (and night) with a sickey.
First-Do your best to occupy other children with an activity that can keep them seperated. Chances are if one goes down, they all will. But keeping them seperated can also be keeping them out of the line of fire.
Second- As if you won't be doing enough cleaning, clean more. Make sure sheets, washclothes and handtowels get a good hot water or sanitizing wash. If your sickey is little, make sure you give all pacifiers, teethers, bottles or sippies a hot, soapy wash. Same goes for toothbrushes. You can vainly hope at heading it off by getting real serious with some extra hand washing, sanitizer and some house cleaning.
Third- BRATT diet. I know that when your kid is relocating all their lunch, feeding them more is not always on the list. And they may well not be interested at all. But if they do want to eat, stick to a BRATT diet. Banana, Rice, Applesauce, Toast and Tea. Simple, bland, easy to digest. Make sure your tea is decaf. I also opt for fitness waters over the kid forumlated electrolye drinks. They are much cheaper and taste better. I spent the extra dollars once on the kid ones and found out that my kids' won't drink them, money wasted. I'm not a fan of the sugar substitutes, but I'm willing to make an exception to keep them hydrated.
Fourth-Nightime sheet changing prevention. My daughter is 5 and has been potty trained for years. But if she has the flu, she is still sleeping in a pull up with a plastic bowl on her nightstand. I have had one pack of pull-ups that have lasted 3 years and we may never use them all, hope we don't. Kids have a hard enough time getting to the bathroom in the night, so make it easy on them and you. And be ready with backup. Make sure you have a mattress pad on the bed and opt for washable bedding, rehome any super sentimental keepsakes for the night. I often lay a towel on the floor next to the bed as well. Lay out a change of bedding and a change pj's before bedtime. And have a clean towel or two ready to go on the bathroom counter. For a baby, all you can do is be ready with lots of extra bedding and pjs. If you can move to be closer to baby, might be a good idea.
Five-Thanks to the wonder that is Murphy's Mom Law, chances are your child started showing signs of being sick a few minutes after your pediatricians office closed. So keep an eye on fevers and any unusual behavior and be smart when using any OTC meds. Before stores close, make sure you have some ibuprofen, Immodium (for an older child), something they like to drink, and diaper cream (even for an older kid, raw bums are no fun at any age). Keep kiddo as comfortable as possible. Know who to call in an after-hours emergency and call your ped first thing in the morning.
Good luck and feel better soon.
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
Monday, August 29, 2011
Call it what you want
The last couple of weeks have found me doing a lot of soul searching. You could call it Yuppie Guilt, Mommy Guilt, or called to do more. I'm going with the latter. I've already got guilt in spades.
You see, I am one of the blessed. And it's pretty likely that if you are reading this, you are too. Even if you aren't happy in your job right now, having a fight with a friend or wondering what do with your life, you are probably still clothed, fed and sheltered beyond your basic needs. Just the fact that part of my day included stressing out about how organize the massive amount of toys and clothes my kids have is a sign that we not only have enough, we live in excess. I do my best to teach my children gratitude, teach them how to give to others and not ask for themselves. But it is difficult and something we, and I'm sure many others, struggle with.
Knowing all that, I can't help but think about the kids and families in this world that don't have enough. Kids without toys, shoes, even a toothbrush. A mother who can't give her child the basic things they need, let alone have the joy of giving her child a gift and seeing them smile. It just brings a sadness to my heart that I cannot even explain.
So I try. I try to give my time. I try to give my gifts. I try to teach my children. And will my trying make a difference? I need to think so. For the sake of my kids and the world they will grow up in, I need to think so. I would rather be a drop in a bucket than an empty bucket.
So I will keep trying. And I hope you will to. Find a project, find a first step and take it. Take it with your kids. You'll never regret the path and you'll never turn back.
You see, I am one of the blessed. And it's pretty likely that if you are reading this, you are too. Even if you aren't happy in your job right now, having a fight with a friend or wondering what do with your life, you are probably still clothed, fed and sheltered beyond your basic needs. Just the fact that part of my day included stressing out about how organize the massive amount of toys and clothes my kids have is a sign that we not only have enough, we live in excess. I do my best to teach my children gratitude, teach them how to give to others and not ask for themselves. But it is difficult and something we, and I'm sure many others, struggle with.
Knowing all that, I can't help but think about the kids and families in this world that don't have enough. Kids without toys, shoes, even a toothbrush. A mother who can't give her child the basic things they need, let alone have the joy of giving her child a gift and seeing them smile. It just brings a sadness to my heart that I cannot even explain.
So I try. I try to give my time. I try to give my gifts. I try to teach my children. And will my trying make a difference? I need to think so. For the sake of my kids and the world they will grow up in, I need to think so. I would rather be a drop in a bucket than an empty bucket.
So I will keep trying. And I hope you will to. Find a project, find a first step and take it. Take it with your kids. You'll never regret the path and you'll never turn back.
Friday, August 26, 2011
Alone
It's a Friday night and I'm as alone as I get in my own house. It's just me, a pay-per-view chick flick and my three dogs. This time of the night, the dogs are basically area rugs. They are mastiffs and pretty much refrain from lifting their own body weight after 7 pm. So I sit, well protected, to spend a little time by myself. And breathe.
My day started with a 4:30 am wake up call from my 3 year old. In an attempt to get a bit more sleep, we opted to let him climb into our bed. This is always tempting in the middle of the night, but do not be fooled, NO ONE is going to feel rested come sun up. And we did not. The rest of the day was a blur of movies, administering antibiotics to my entire family after a diagnosis of strep throat and my vain attempts at clutter busting.
I used to savor nap time as my own. But recently my husband has started working from home and I'm still adjusting to it. During the day this means that someone is here to roll their eyes at my trashy TV and toss judgemental "are you really still on the couch" glances my way. Yes, I'm still on the couch watching Project Runway. If you had the morning I had and was still able to orchestrate the most beautiful of all motherly acheivements, The Trifecta Nap, then you would reap your much deserved couch time too.
So tonight, when I mentioned a movie that I wanted to watch and hubby decided he'd rather read than be subjected to Kate Hudson for even a minute, I did not protest. Didn't suggest an alternative movie. Just decided that tonight, I'd be alone.
Alone with my computer, alone with my movie, alone with myself. It feels nice. It feels soothing. Like I'm taking care of myself in a way I rarely do.
Tomorrow is a whole new day. A full one at that. And even if it starts at 4 am with a knee in my ribs, as it just might, I will feel a bit better for just having taken a bit of time alone and enjoying it. And enjoying breathing.
My day started with a 4:30 am wake up call from my 3 year old. In an attempt to get a bit more sleep, we opted to let him climb into our bed. This is always tempting in the middle of the night, but do not be fooled, NO ONE is going to feel rested come sun up. And we did not. The rest of the day was a blur of movies, administering antibiotics to my entire family after a diagnosis of strep throat and my vain attempts at clutter busting.
I used to savor nap time as my own. But recently my husband has started working from home and I'm still adjusting to it. During the day this means that someone is here to roll their eyes at my trashy TV and toss judgemental "are you really still on the couch" glances my way. Yes, I'm still on the couch watching Project Runway. If you had the morning I had and was still able to orchestrate the most beautiful of all motherly acheivements, The Trifecta Nap, then you would reap your much deserved couch time too.
So tonight, when I mentioned a movie that I wanted to watch and hubby decided he'd rather read than be subjected to Kate Hudson for even a minute, I did not protest. Didn't suggest an alternative movie. Just decided that tonight, I'd be alone.
Alone with my computer, alone with my movie, alone with myself. It feels nice. It feels soothing. Like I'm taking care of myself in a way I rarely do.
Tomorrow is a whole new day. A full one at that. And even if it starts at 4 am with a knee in my ribs, as it just might, I will feel a bit better for just having taken a bit of time alone and enjoying it. And enjoying breathing.
Saturday, May 28, 2011
Crusts
I refuse to cut the crusts off of a sandwich. I let them stay on the plate, but I am not going to help with process.
She used to like crusts.
She used to like cheese. We are going through an "I don't like cheese" phase. She still like pizza and cheese roll ups and tacos. I guess because they aren't straight up cheese. I know she still likes cheese, but sometimes being difficult gets more attention.
She hates eggs. Loves quiche. If anyone tells her that quiche is eggs, I'll kick them in the shins.
Usually I'm so happy that someone is eating that I'll let the little things slide. But I'm not cutting the crusts off.
She used to like crusts.
She used to like cheese. We are going through an "I don't like cheese" phase. She still like pizza and cheese roll ups and tacos. I guess because they aren't straight up cheese. I know she still likes cheese, but sometimes being difficult gets more attention.
She hates eggs. Loves quiche. If anyone tells her that quiche is eggs, I'll kick them in the shins.
Usually I'm so happy that someone is eating that I'll let the little things slide. But I'm not cutting the crusts off.
What is Real?
Real Housewives my butt. I will admit that I watch the shows. Call them a guilty pleasure, call it escapism. And now that I’ve written about it, I can call it research. Either way, I watch the shows, and undoubtedly end up feeling uber-frumpy by comparison. I consider myself a housewife. I know Stay at Home Mom might be more PC, but really mom is only part of my job. Mom is more important, but I can’t be a good mom without a house that is in order and being a good wife makes me a better mom. So Housewife isn’t demeaning to me, it’s encompassing.
Regardless, these women and I have absolutely nothing in common. I am astonished at how little we see them with their kids. They don’t “work” but they have nannies. Plural. I have me. Singular. None of them do any actual cleaning for themselves and I'm guessing they don't have to fold laundry. Laundry is the bane of my existence. They have assistants. After the nanny, housekeeper, cook and landscaper, you still need an assistant? I'm just happy we aren't living on assistance.
Not to mention that their lives are full of drama. Knock-down, drag-out fights with their “friends” and family feuds that rival the Montagues and Capulets seem to the norm. I’m happy to report that at the ripe old age of 33, my life is fairly drama free. Any toxic friends are long gone or relegated to acquaintances that I can hide on Facebook. My family drama is still there, but we are at a non-confrontational standstill, so the only drama left is me venting to my poor husband about it. I'm happy when I have time to shower in a day, so time to devote to drama is something I gave up back in college.
Here are the rest of my observations about these “Real” women that I hold issue with:
They wear white clothing. And it stays white.
They wear lots of jewelry and never seem to be missing as much as an earring.
They get their hair done, nails done and go to the spa, in the same week. And it's a normal week.
They wear clothes that need dry cleaning or ironing.
Their purse collections are worth more than my mortgage. Jeans that cost more than my monthly grocery budget.
Their cars don’t seem to be full of sippy cups, dried French fries and there are no visible crayon scribbles or stickers on the windows.
They throw childrens’ birthday parties that cost more than my wedding. Much, much more.
They go on dates with their husbands. Elaborate and often.
They all have plenty of time to workout and maintain a perfect figure. And if they don’t, they take a trip to their personal plastic surgeon for a fix up.
Their houses are spotless showrooms. Perfectly decorated and clean. And clean. Did I say clean?
And while sometimes those things seem like THE dream. I know how hollow they are. A mommy without stains is one who isn’t playing on the floor. A car without mess is one that isn’t driving the kids to fun activities. A party without personal touches and a face covered in cake is sterile. And a house without some messes, toys on the floor and happy noises is not a Home.
So I think I’ll stick with my version of Real. The one where I throw my hair in a ponytail and put on my uniform of clean (mostly) and cheap (very) tank top and jeans. Where the kids and I spend a good chunk of our day on the move and the car takes a beating. Where my canvas purse/diaper bag is filled with 3,926 things for the kids(diapers, wipes, snacks, juice, crayons, sunscreen, toys etc)and 3 things for me (wallet, phone and chapstick). Planning playdates, presents and parties that are joyously homemade. And a house that is spilling over with toys, to-do’s, messes, laundry, life and love. Real indeed.
Regardless, these women and I have absolutely nothing in common. I am astonished at how little we see them with their kids. They don’t “work” but they have nannies. Plural. I have me. Singular. None of them do any actual cleaning for themselves and I'm guessing they don't have to fold laundry. Laundry is the bane of my existence. They have assistants. After the nanny, housekeeper, cook and landscaper, you still need an assistant? I'm just happy we aren't living on assistance.
Not to mention that their lives are full of drama. Knock-down, drag-out fights with their “friends” and family feuds that rival the Montagues and Capulets seem to the norm. I’m happy to report that at the ripe old age of 33, my life is fairly drama free. Any toxic friends are long gone or relegated to acquaintances that I can hide on Facebook. My family drama is still there, but we are at a non-confrontational standstill, so the only drama left is me venting to my poor husband about it. I'm happy when I have time to shower in a day, so time to devote to drama is something I gave up back in college.
Here are the rest of my observations about these “Real” women that I hold issue with:
They wear white clothing. And it stays white.
They wear lots of jewelry and never seem to be missing as much as an earring.
They get their hair done, nails done and go to the spa, in the same week. And it's a normal week.
They wear clothes that need dry cleaning or ironing.
Their purse collections are worth more than my mortgage. Jeans that cost more than my monthly grocery budget.
Their cars don’t seem to be full of sippy cups, dried French fries and there are no visible crayon scribbles or stickers on the windows.
They throw childrens’ birthday parties that cost more than my wedding. Much, much more.
They go on dates with their husbands. Elaborate and often.
They all have plenty of time to workout and maintain a perfect figure. And if they don’t, they take a trip to their personal plastic surgeon for a fix up.
Their houses are spotless showrooms. Perfectly decorated and clean. And clean. Did I say clean?
And while sometimes those things seem like THE dream. I know how hollow they are. A mommy without stains is one who isn’t playing on the floor. A car without mess is one that isn’t driving the kids to fun activities. A party without personal touches and a face covered in cake is sterile. And a house without some messes, toys on the floor and happy noises is not a Home.
So I think I’ll stick with my version of Real. The one where I throw my hair in a ponytail and put on my uniform of clean (mostly) and cheap (very) tank top and jeans. Where the kids and I spend a good chunk of our day on the move and the car takes a beating. Where my canvas purse/diaper bag is filled with 3,926 things for the kids(diapers, wipes, snacks, juice, crayons, sunscreen, toys etc)and 3 things for me (wallet, phone and chapstick). Planning playdates, presents and parties that are joyously homemade. And a house that is spilling over with toys, to-do’s, messes, laundry, life and love. Real indeed.
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
Up! Unfortunately.
It's now 6:39 A.M. A perfectly respectable time to get up in the morning. That would have been awesome if that is when I actually got up. I've been up since 4. Ugh.
Now to give you the full perspective on this, you have to know that I am a nursing mother. With a baby who doesn't understand the concept of sleeping through the night. K is almost a year old. He's had about 4 long stretches.....in his life. A typical night has me awake 2-4 times, his average stretch being 3 hours.
I'm tired.
All.
The.
Time.
And I have two more kids under 5 to take care of. I will readily admit that sometimes "taking care of" means a day of movies and snacks while mama lays on the couch trying to recover.
Normally my goal is for the baby to get through the night without screaming and waking the rest of the house up. To that end, I nurse him when he wakes up. I know that he doesn't need to eat, but it's easier and I'm tired. And I also know that this has created a habit that I'm going to have to break. Got it, thanks.
The secondary concern for being up that many times is getting sleep inbetween wakings. I leave all the lights off and navigate my house like I have radar. I manage to stay in a bit of a stupor and return to my bed often unable to remember how many times I was up during the night.
But today was one of the frustrating days where I returned to my bed completely unable to fall back asleep. I tossed and turned. Jotted down notes that I will be unable to comprehend because I can't manage to write well in the dark. Contemplated getting in a workout and finally stumbled out to my computer.
I figure if I can't sleep I may as well get something done.
Facebook-check
(I'm on PST so at least I have plenty of friends 3 hours ahead of me)
Email-check
Window shop new Gymboree line-check
Upload new pictures-check
And finally...
Blog-check.
It's now 6:51 and my family will wake soon. The lights will come on. The cartoons and whining will start. The dogs will beg for breakfast and my husband will rush around frantically looking for clean laundry. But for now, it's quiet, save for a snoring dog. The snow is falling and I am alone. And while I'd still rather be sleeping, I'm trying to appreciate the gift of a bit of time to myself. The lull before the storm. A beautiful storm.
Now to give you the full perspective on this, you have to know that I am a nursing mother. With a baby who doesn't understand the concept of sleeping through the night. K is almost a year old. He's had about 4 long stretches.....in his life. A typical night has me awake 2-4 times, his average stretch being 3 hours.
I'm tired.
All.
The.
Time.
And I have two more kids under 5 to take care of. I will readily admit that sometimes "taking care of" means a day of movies and snacks while mama lays on the couch trying to recover.
Normally my goal is for the baby to get through the night without screaming and waking the rest of the house up. To that end, I nurse him when he wakes up. I know that he doesn't need to eat, but it's easier and I'm tired. And I also know that this has created a habit that I'm going to have to break. Got it, thanks.
The secondary concern for being up that many times is getting sleep inbetween wakings. I leave all the lights off and navigate my house like I have radar. I manage to stay in a bit of a stupor and return to my bed often unable to remember how many times I was up during the night.
But today was one of the frustrating days where I returned to my bed completely unable to fall back asleep. I tossed and turned. Jotted down notes that I will be unable to comprehend because I can't manage to write well in the dark. Contemplated getting in a workout and finally stumbled out to my computer.
I figure if I can't sleep I may as well get something done.
Facebook-check
(I'm on PST so at least I have plenty of friends 3 hours ahead of me)
Email-check
Window shop new Gymboree line-check
Upload new pictures-check
And finally...
Blog-check.
It's now 6:51 and my family will wake soon. The lights will come on. The cartoons and whining will start. The dogs will beg for breakfast and my husband will rush around frantically looking for clean laundry. But for now, it's quiet, save for a snoring dog. The snow is falling and I am alone. And while I'd still rather be sleeping, I'm trying to appreciate the gift of a bit of time to myself. The lull before the storm. A beautiful storm.
Saturday, March 12, 2011
Two posts in one day, imagine that!
This one is inspired by a friend's status on Facebook about her Houdini baby and the inevitable diaper removal. Sounds funny, when it's not your baby. And not your job to clean up the mess that usually results from a commando baby.
All these tips can be used seperately, together or in succession. Some of them work, some of them may just slow baby down a bit.
Put the diaper on backwards. This only works with certain brands, but worth a try.
Put regular underware on over the diaper. You will need them sooner or later, so might as well try it out.
If baby is big enough, try a Pull up. The closures are different and they may confuse them.
Find a sleeper or outfit without feet and put it on backwards. The snaps or zipper in the back should slow baby down quite a bit.
Duct tape on the diaper flaps. This one is really hit or miss because some baby's will figure out to tear the paper instead.
Good luck!
This one is inspired by a friend's status on Facebook about her Houdini baby and the inevitable diaper removal. Sounds funny, when it's not your baby. And not your job to clean up the mess that usually results from a commando baby.
All these tips can be used seperately, together or in succession. Some of them work, some of them may just slow baby down a bit.
Put the diaper on backwards. This only works with certain brands, but worth a try.
Put regular underware on over the diaper. You will need them sooner or later, so might as well try it out.
If baby is big enough, try a Pull up. The closures are different and they may confuse them.
Find a sleeper or outfit without feet and put it on backwards. The snaps or zipper in the back should slow baby down quite a bit.
Duct tape on the diaper flaps. This one is really hit or miss because some baby's will figure out to tear the paper instead.
Good luck!
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