Prior to our chicken pox, Great Granny came for a visit with Grandpa and Grandma. Here H gets a few words of encouragement as he tries his walking car (he hasn't quite gotten the hang of it yet, but Grandpa was helping him try).
6.19.2008
6.18.2008
A Pox in the House of B
One pox, two pox, three pox, four. There's so many, we count them by the score.
Oh yes, the pox. Thankfully, the boys are too young to realize that one of those nasty little shots they got several months ago was supposed to prevent this. Alas, it was a futile effort.
And naturally, it happens on a day that A) Dad is out of town for business; B) Grandma B has pneumonia (we hope she feels very better soon!); C) Grampa and Grandma are a flood covered interstate away. Which left mom to care for two very uncomfortable little boys alone. Two very uncomfortable boys who wanted their mommy at the very same time. I finally got them to sleep by sitting on the floor with one straddling one leg, the other straddling the other leg and then contorting such that both had their heads resting on one of my shoulders. And I somehow managed to even rock them in that position. Thank goodness I'm still a might flexible in my advancing years...
For those keeping score, in the last five months both boys have had:
1) RSV
2) Four ear infections each
3) Far too many upper respiratory illnesses to count
3) One hospitalization for E
4) Hand, Foot and Mouth Virus
5) Chicken pox
What's probably the most troubling is that we're quickly becoming the pariahs of daycare. Already there's been warning signs posted saying "your child may have been exposed to..." and now a second set of signs will be going up tomorrow. Perhaps we should start collecting the signs for their baby books. Never mind the fact that the boys literally only go to daycare and then come home. No restaurants and the occassional jaunt to the grocery store or Target is either in our own stroller or our backpacks. Leaving us absolutely boggled where they're picking this stuff up. But, somehow they are.
I know the first year is the hardest, but really, this is just getting silly.
Oh yes, the pox. Thankfully, the boys are too young to realize that one of those nasty little shots they got several months ago was supposed to prevent this. Alas, it was a futile effort.
And naturally, it happens on a day that A) Dad is out of town for business; B) Grandma B has pneumonia (we hope she feels very better soon!); C) Grampa and Grandma are a flood covered interstate away. Which left mom to care for two very uncomfortable little boys alone. Two very uncomfortable boys who wanted their mommy at the very same time. I finally got them to sleep by sitting on the floor with one straddling one leg, the other straddling the other leg and then contorting such that both had their heads resting on one of my shoulders. And I somehow managed to even rock them in that position. Thank goodness I'm still a might flexible in my advancing years...
For those keeping score, in the last five months both boys have had:
1) RSV
2) Four ear infections each
3) Far too many upper respiratory illnesses to count
3) One hospitalization for E
4) Hand, Foot and Mouth Virus
5) Chicken pox
What's probably the most troubling is that we're quickly becoming the pariahs of daycare. Already there's been warning signs posted saying "your child may have been exposed to..." and now a second set of signs will be going up tomorrow. Perhaps we should start collecting the signs for their baby books. Never mind the fact that the boys literally only go to daycare and then come home. No restaurants and the occassional jaunt to the grocery store or Target is either in our own stroller or our backpacks. Leaving us absolutely boggled where they're picking this stuff up. But, somehow they are.
I know the first year is the hardest, but really, this is just getting silly.
6.15.2008
6.05.2008
Just the beginning
When an incident happens involving your child and another child at a licensed daycare facility, they are legally not allowed to disclose any information related to the other child. For example, when your child bites another, all they can say is "your child was bitten by another."
So today when we arrived to pick up the boys, our provider said, "I'm afraid H was involved in an incident. He was bitten by another child." And there were quite the bite marks on his arm to show for it.
I started thinking to myself, "oh great, there's a biter in the group. No telling where this could lead..." when the teacher continued with, "and I'm afraid E was involved in an incident as well." My mind started racing, who is this little Hannibal Lecter taking chunks out of my children. When she finished "He bit another child in class."
Ahhh.
The incident report read, "H was playing with the piano when he was bit by another child who was also trying to play the piano. He received a bite mark on his left forearm, there are purple-colored teeth indents."
Ironically, on the daily activity sheet that says what each child did that day, E's read, "He enjoyed playing the piano today."
Apparently so.
So today when we arrived to pick up the boys, our provider said, "I'm afraid H was involved in an incident. He was bitten by another child." And there were quite the bite marks on his arm to show for it.
I started thinking to myself, "oh great, there's a biter in the group. No telling where this could lead..." when the teacher continued with, "and I'm afraid E was involved in an incident as well." My mind started racing, who is this little Hannibal Lecter taking chunks out of my children. When she finished "He bit another child in class."
Ahhh.
The incident report read, "H was playing with the piano when he was bit by another child who was also trying to play the piano. He received a bite mark on his left forearm, there are purple-colored teeth indents."
Ironically, on the daily activity sheet that says what each child did that day, E's read, "He enjoyed playing the piano today."
Apparently so.
A moment to savor
Tonight as we went about our evening routine of dishes and lunch packing, there came a voice across the baby monitor. Instead of the typical cries that summon us to their bedside, there was H saying, "Da da da da." Not just a babble mind you, but a very deliberate call to get our attention. When we didn't respond right away, mostly because we were dumbfounded, asking ourselves, "Is he really saying what we think?" He tried again, slightly louder this time. "Da da da." I went upstairs to find something had startled him awake and picked him up to soothe him. It was hard to put his little sleeping self back down knowing it won't be long before he's no longer my little baby.
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