Went to the pediatrician today to check about a possible ear infection before I send E on an airplane with my in-laws. Negative, thank goodness!
My son, I am told however, is abnormal. In a good way. His pediatrician, Dr. Jim, says it is absolutely atypical for a 2-year-old to sit calmly and endure an examination. E is such a chill little man that I am not super suprised, although he does tend toward being the nervous sort, so in some ways it is surprising that he is so calm at the doctor's office. He even talks about going and bops around the office charming nurse and singing out "Doctor Jim! Doctor Jim!" Sadly, this is because he is your typical little person - the king of ear infections, so he's been to the doctor A LOT recently. He's had a lot of ear infections this winter, but not enough to make tubes worth it. And the infections cause issues, but thankfully none of the up-screaming-in-the-middle-of-the-night issues.
But back to the doctors. I am pretty sure that E is so calm around doctors because he has had more doctor's in his life than most full grown adults. So far, he has been a patient of a pediatric cardiologist, a gastroenterologist, a urologist, a dermatologist, an allergist, and 2 different pediatricians. I am so grateful that we have access to these wonderful people who have improved E's life. Because for a healthy, happy little man, he's had his fair share of issues.
Monday, March 11, 2013
Saturday, March 9, 2013
Whining
I grew up in a home with a strict "no whining" policy. Now I'm faced with the conundrum...how do I instill this habit into a not-yet-two-year-old? I certainly feel that the "no whining" policy is the way to go, but on the other hand, I understand that sometimes a little guy gets frustrated.
I became a big fan of whining at about 8:30 tonight when I attempted to start my grad class homework on library cataloging using MARC. HOLY COW I have no earthly idea what I'm doing. I am not used to feeling like an idiot, but I certainly feel like one now. I am so frustrated and I really, really just want to whine about how unfair it is to expect this kind of understanding from someone who has no idea about any of this cataloging stuff and how the homework made zero sense and how I just want to throw my books out the window and go to bed.
I got a good amount of feeling frustrated, whining, and even temper tantrum throwing done tonight. Isn't it funny how God gives us these opportunities to empathize with our kids just when we need them?
I became a big fan of whining at about 8:30 tonight when I attempted to start my grad class homework on library cataloging using MARC. HOLY COW I have no earthly idea what I'm doing. I am not used to feeling like an idiot, but I certainly feel like one now. I am so frustrated and I really, really just want to whine about how unfair it is to expect this kind of understanding from someone who has no idea about any of this cataloging stuff and how the homework made zero sense and how I just want to throw my books out the window and go to bed.
I got a good amount of feeling frustrated, whining, and even temper tantrum throwing done tonight. Isn't it funny how God gives us these opportunities to empathize with our kids just when we need them?
Friday, March 8, 2013
Sacrifice
My son is not what you would call...um...particularly healthy. He was born with a rare heart condition, developed a rare skin condition, and has RAD, which is like baby asthma, when he gets sick. Despite all these scary things, God has been so amazing in the fact that while each of these conditions could be a big problem and affect his quality of life, none of them have been. At all. Shockingly so.
But when we gave him peanut butter for the first time and he got hives, we weren't exactly surprised. But we were definitely scared. His other conditions could be dangerous, but were rarely life-threatening. How would we keep him safe?
Thankfully, after a blood and a skin test, it appears that the hives may have been a fluke. Or something. But we found out the devastating (for me at least) news that he is allergic to cats and dogs. And we have 2 cats.
How does this happen? I thought. Kids who grow up with pets are supposed to have a better ability to deal with life and have fewer allergies. Now it looks like my first 2 babies are causing my real baby to have asthma.
I tried not to cry in the allergist's office, but it was a battle. Not only do I enjoy my cats' company, but I feel a responsibility. When I brought them in as wild little feral kittens and tamed them (this is actually true), it was with the intention of caring for them forever. Now I would have to hand them over to someone else. And they aren't going to understand. I keep thinking about a line from one of my favorite movies, where the main character bemoans the fact that after she left, her dog probably sat around wondering what he had done wrong. Will my girls think that when I have to leave them in a stranger's home?
I know in the grand scheme of things, this is seriously a small sacrifice. There are parents all over the world giving up their jobs, their food, even their lives for their children. I'm giving up my cats. It hurts. My little E-man is 100% worth it. But it still hurts.
But when we gave him peanut butter for the first time and he got hives, we weren't exactly surprised. But we were definitely scared. His other conditions could be dangerous, but were rarely life-threatening. How would we keep him safe?
Thankfully, after a blood and a skin test, it appears that the hives may have been a fluke. Or something. But we found out the devastating (for me at least) news that he is allergic to cats and dogs. And we have 2 cats.
How does this happen? I thought. Kids who grow up with pets are supposed to have a better ability to deal with life and have fewer allergies. Now it looks like my first 2 babies are causing my real baby to have asthma.
I tried not to cry in the allergist's office, but it was a battle. Not only do I enjoy my cats' company, but I feel a responsibility. When I brought them in as wild little feral kittens and tamed them (this is actually true), it was with the intention of caring for them forever. Now I would have to hand them over to someone else. And they aren't going to understand. I keep thinking about a line from one of my favorite movies, where the main character bemoans the fact that after she left, her dog probably sat around wondering what he had done wrong. Will my girls think that when I have to leave them in a stranger's home?
I know in the grand scheme of things, this is seriously a small sacrifice. There are parents all over the world giving up their jobs, their food, even their lives for their children. I'm giving up my cats. It hurts. My little E-man is 100% worth it. But it still hurts.
Thursday, March 7, 2013
Ethan's baby book
I haven't finished his baby book. My "baby," Ethan, is now nearly 2 years old and I haven't finished his baby book. Haven't started it, really. I worked on a page or two while sitting by his bedside in the NICU so very long ago. I've got a box filled with things meant for the book. But I haven't actually sat down to work on it.
Does this make me a bad mom, or just someone not gifted in this particular way of loving my child? In all reality, I've come to believe that my son will not care to ever read his baby book. He is a boy, after all. So really, it is just a way for me to remember the precious moments of his childhood. But since I can't seem to force myself to sit down and finish this baby book (I'm thinking I'll get to it as soon as I finish my senior year scrapbook, which I began 12 years ago), I need to find another way to remember these precious moments. Not for his sake, per se, but for my own, and for my husband's.
When Ethan was a few weeks old, I saw a commercial about a dad who creates an e-mail address for his baby daughter (you kind of have to lie about their age to do this, I learned). I thought...I can totally do that! So there it was - an easy way to document the day to day life of our family. I can write a quick e-mail, can't I? As it turned out, I could. I've been e-mailing my son every few weeks (or months) since his birth and it's been amazing to look back and reread the milestones he met. Like when he slept for 3 hours straight and we thought it was the best moment of our lives. Or the day he discovered he had hands. These precious times pass too quickly and are so easily forgotten. Like the fact that he created the word "beba" and that it meant "open" in every possible situation where you'd want to open something. Until one day, he abandoned the adorable "beba" in favor of English. Would we even have remembered this amazing time in our son's life had I not e-mailed him about it?
You'll note that I named my blog "emails to my kids" and have only named one kid. I currently only have one (other than the 22 I keep at school), but I plan on having more. And I plan on e-mailing them, too. They all need to know about their own "beba" stages.
Does this make me a bad mom, or just someone not gifted in this particular way of loving my child? In all reality, I've come to believe that my son will not care to ever read his baby book. He is a boy, after all. So really, it is just a way for me to remember the precious moments of his childhood. But since I can't seem to force myself to sit down and finish this baby book (I'm thinking I'll get to it as soon as I finish my senior year scrapbook, which I began 12 years ago), I need to find another way to remember these precious moments. Not for his sake, per se, but for my own, and for my husband's.
When Ethan was a few weeks old, I saw a commercial about a dad who creates an e-mail address for his baby daughter (you kind of have to lie about their age to do this, I learned). I thought...I can totally do that! So there it was - an easy way to document the day to day life of our family. I can write a quick e-mail, can't I? As it turned out, I could. I've been e-mailing my son every few weeks (or months) since his birth and it's been amazing to look back and reread the milestones he met. Like when he slept for 3 hours straight and we thought it was the best moment of our lives. Or the day he discovered he had hands. These precious times pass too quickly and are so easily forgotten. Like the fact that he created the word "beba" and that it meant "open" in every possible situation where you'd want to open something. Until one day, he abandoned the adorable "beba" in favor of English. Would we even have remembered this amazing time in our son's life had I not e-mailed him about it?
You'll note that I named my blog "emails to my kids" and have only named one kid. I currently only have one (other than the 22 I keep at school), but I plan on having more. And I plan on e-mailing them, too. They all need to know about their own "beba" stages.
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