Projectile Pear Puree

There's nothing that says, "I love you, Mom" quite like having your six-month-old son cough in your direction with a mouth full of pear puree. You can literally feel each particle of "love", or slobbery snot cootie, as it showers your hair, face, shirt and hands. I momentarily and mistakenly thought yesterday that I wasn't feeling all that sick for the first time in weeks. I woke up today wishing this new cold would pass quickly. 'Tis the season.

Moral of the story: Babies can't cover their mouth when they cough so either accept that for fact or learn to duck quickly.

The Family Cold

I'm nearing the end of a family cold. That's what happens when you have a child in daycare who brings back cooties every chance she gets. She got it and gave it to Rick. One of them gave it to Iain. And then I likely got it from all three of them. You would think that having a cold and knowing how miserable I've been these past few days with headaches and snot and sneezing and dealing with the kids' snot would have taught me to be better about disinfecting things and encouraged me to be more strict about hand washing and hygiene, but it didn't. I already considered myself to be good about hand washing, but clearly I'm not anywhere near as good about it as I thought since I can't even fend off the common cold.

As it turns out, it is tough to get your toddler to wash her hands after everything she touches. She touches a lot of things. And she doesn't really want to wash her hands. Just recently she started to give in to hand washing but it has taken awhile for her to acquiesce. I didn't grow up with the "wash your hands before you eat" rule so it's tough for me to remember to do that with Ada. We are just now starting to get into the habit of having her wash her hands when she gets home from daycare, and she's been there six months! Ug. I can only imagine the germs she's brought home so far this year.

It also doesn't help our desire to be cootie-free when everyone wants to touch and hold the new baby. Some people are really good about saying, "Let me go wash my hands so I can hold him.". And I know, as his mom, I should ask people to wash up before touching him...but I forget. I'm pretty scatterbrained these days at it isn't top of mind. (Some would say I have a lot going on with having a newborn and all.) It isn't even close to being on my mind to tell the truth. At least, not until we get a family cold and I'm considering making a holster on my belt for his snot sucker since I can never find it when I need it. Poor little guy.

For right now, this cold will serve as a reminder that we need to do more as a family to prevent cooties from attacking us. Now is the time we either change our habits or accept the fact that we are going to get more colds and other illnesses that could be prevented if we just tried a little bit harder and spent more time hand washing. It's not enough to just tell Ada to cover her mouth when she coughs. We have to get into the habit of doing more.

Moral of the story: With kids come cooties. Teach good hygiene habits from the start and it is bound to pay off. Even one less round of cooties will be worth your effort.

Sick of Ada Being Sick

Ada's asthma thing, or whatever it is, isn't quite better yet. She was on medicine and that helped a ton. Then the medicine was done and she was okay for a couple of days. Then the coughing came back. Then, two nights ago the throwing up came back. It was like she had stored up all of the throwing up she hadn't done in the previous week and let it all out in one night. It started at 11:30pm and just kept going. I gave up around 1 am and poor Rick stayed on the couch sleeping/watching movies with her until who knows when. It sucked. Then he stayed home with her so they could both get some much needed rest.

From this most recent episode, I'll say "You haven't experienced parenthood until..."

clearly, there are many ways to finish off this line. To which I'll add:

...you've been thrown up on four times within two hours.
...you've had regurgitated banana drip down your cleavage, twice in one night.
...you've run out of towels in the linen closet from all of the showers you, your husband and your child have used to wash off remnants of vomit.
...you want to change places with your sick child so they don't have to suffer anymore because they just don't understand what's going on with their little body.

Yesterday, Rick took Ada back to the Doctor, but it wasn't her regular Doctoress so it was a wasted visit in my opinion since the new Doctor said we'd have to wait until her regular Doctoress came in today to do anything more. Gee buddy, thanks for nothing.

On the way home from the Doctor's office, Rick picked me up from work and Ada proceeded to throw up all over the back seat of the car just a few blocks from my office. We pulled over and cleaned her up--or Rick cleaned her and the car up while I called the Doctoress' office to demand that they leave our normal Doctoress an urgent message to contact me ASAP. Then I got out and cuddled with Ada's half-nakedness on the sidewalk until Rick was ready to put her back into the pukey car seat.

We almost made it home without further incident but... with three blocks left, she had to let the juice flow. Talk about an easy way to make a distracted driver. Poor Rick was ready to plow through anyone to get around the block and park at that point. Ada's screaming. The car reeks. Traffic isn't letting us through fast enough. It's times like these that I want a button in the car that makes it glow or flash hot pink to indicate to other motorists something like "Move please, I have a really good reason to have the right of way right now. Trust me. Thank you." If only the hazard flashers had that setting...

We were able to park in a temporary unloading spot out front while Rick carried Ada into the house while holding his breath, holding her at arms' length, listening to her scream and trying to comfort her all at once. Straight into the house and down the hall to the tub. He tagged out at that point and I tagged in --just like tag team wrestling, only it's a two-year old we're up against, and there is only one of her. He got to clean the car, bring the car seat in for a major scrub down, and find more permanent parking. I got to give Ada a bath and clean her up. Knowing that I got the better end of the deal, I let him have the honor of drying her off --it really is the best part of the bath as we've made quite the game of it. She runs naked, he catches her, dries and cuddles her, she squeals with delight. It almost makes up for having to clean up her puke. Almost.

Thankfully, the rest of the night proved to be uneventful which was a plesant surprise as I've been expecting, and dreading, the worst. We gave her some Singular and puffs from her inhaler. She coughed before bed, but we haven't heard a peep since. Now if only I could have caught up on some sleep this morning instead of getting up to write at 4 am. Oh well. Maybe tomorrow. Yawn.

Moral of the story: Keep a change of clothes (for your child, and maybe yourself), diapers, wipes, and a towel or two in the car for unexpected incidents. You never know when they'll come in handy, but odds are good you'll need them.

Weird, Funny, Annoying and Disgusting

Weird, funny, annoying and disgusting things Ada has done this week:

Disgusting: I tossed the leftover frosting from a chocolate cake I had eaten the night before into our garbage can and used the side of the can to scrape off the fork. All was fine until Ada threw something away, saw the frosting and decided to have some--from the side of the garbage bag. I freaked out and quickly scrubbed her down and took the garbage out. Yuck.

Funny: On our walk home from day care on Thursday, we got to the corner by our house when Ada started screaming and pointing across the street. She's in a pointing phase now to communicate what she wants. And a bossy phase, but I digress. I waited for the street light to change and took her across the street only to have her walk up to the door of the ice cream shop and demand that I take her inside for a scoop. She must have been channeling a craving from BB in the belly because we all walked away happy. Oddly enough, we hadn't been to the ice cream shop in months due to my heartburn and crazy diet.

Weird: While on a walk yesterday, Ada picked up a small stick to carry. It wore out from her bending and swinging it so we quickly found another, more interesting stick with a good place to hold on to and several arching branches. She enjoyed it all the way around the block until we met up with a dog, I think he was a boxer, and he traded Ada a few kisses for the stick -- and then he devoured it. She found one final stick in front of our house and decided to bring it inside, and put it in her mouth just like the dog did. I washed it off, and her off, and now we have a pet stick.

Annoying: At nap time yesterday, I missed her "sleepy window" in order to feed her lunch. I should have just put her down and let her eat later but hindsight is 20/20. She refused to nap and when I thought she would just play quietly in her room, I laid down on the couch for a mini siesta myself. Twenty minutes later I awoke to her pink unicorn rocking horse on a repeat loop from hell "I'm a magical unicorn, I'm a, I'm a, I'm a magical unicorn..." as she kept pushing the button over and over and over, never letting it cycle through the whole song. I reacted like a grumpy bear by storming into her room, grabbing the unicorn by the handle at the side of its head and swinging it out of her room and into the hallway. GRRR. Then I gave up and let her lay on the couch with me until I woke up more properly five minutes later.

Weird: When I put her down for bed the other night, she refused to get into her toddler bed and insisted upon sleeping on the floor. She pulled down her pillow and blanket, grabbed her stuffed animals and laid down. At that point, I was too exhausted to care. I did warn Rick when he went in to get her the next morning not to step on her and sure enough, she was still lying on the floor in the middle of the room.

Funny: We had friends over for a BBQ last weekend and I cleaned the long mirror in our bedroom of all of the handprints at Ada's height. I didn't bother to clean the upper half of the mirror since I was cutting corners and knew it wasn't that dirty--after all, we don't eat a banana and then go dance in front of the mirror with sticky hands. When I looked at the mirror from an angle the next day, it was clear to see that I hadn't wiped the top down as it had a fine layer of dust adhered to the glass. Oops. At least we can see our legs and shoes clearly when we get dressed in the mornings.

Annoying: Trying to keep Ada from ruining things around the house is no easy task. Last week she was playing with the fireplace tools and I was fine with her using the broom tool since it was still new and had never been used. Then she moved on to the log grabber and scooted it across the cream part of the rug, revealing to me that it had indeed been used and was covered in black soot. That game ended fast and she is now banned from all touching of anything fireplace related. At least the soot came out with a little elbow grease and upholstery cleaner.

More Annoying: I'm a hawk about her and crayons as I've heard several horror stories of crayons and walls and all other surfaces really. She got crayon on her Easter dress and Grandma Ba miraculously got it all out. This time, she had the white crayon in hand and stroked it on the brown part of the rug before I could stop her (what are the odds?). I'll get around to cleaning that up this weekend hopefully.

Weird: She likes to taste the nuts in a trail mix and licks the ones she doesn't like, then leaves them on the floor or the table for you to throw away later. She also likes to dip french fries in ketchup or a sauce and then licks the sauce off and leaves the french fry on your plate. She's still a work in progress.

More Weird: Last night at dinner she poured salt onto the table from the shaker and then licked the table.

Disgusting: With her cough induced asthma, she's been throwing up a lot lately. That itself is gross. But the smell it leaves in your car even after you scrub the car seat is even worse.

Funny: In an attempt to make a cheese sauce for dinner to accompany a baked potato and steamed broccoli, I had a stick of butter in its wrapper sitting out on the counter. Ada grabbed it and took a bite out of it, through the packaging. I later found the chunk she spit it out lying on the floor. At least she didn't eat it.
Moral of the story: Each day that goes by with a child brings more surprises than you could ever imagine.

Maybe Not Allergies

Ada's date with the Doctoress went well yesterday. The current theory is that she likely doesn't have allergies, but instead has cough induced asthma--which can be aggravated by allergies. She has always had issues with colds lingering in her chest and nasty coughs that hang around. I must admit it was tough to hear the word asthma in her diagnosis. No one wants their child to have to worry about the simple act of breathing, which actually is quite complex. Growing up, my friends with asthma were delicate. Always carrying inhalers. Bringing a nebulizer to sleepovers or leaving early. Not being able to come over to play if their friends had pets. It was tough. Luckily, what Ada has isn't a full blown type of asthma, but it could one day turn into that. Hers is a spasm in her chest that causes her to cough like crazy and then throw up. It is typically worse at night and occasionally bad in the mornings. And we think it coincides with the change in seasons. Hopefully, five days of a drug the Doctoress prescribed should break the cycle she's been in for four weeks now. If this medicine, with a puff of her inhaler before bed doesn't help, then we will try a stronger allergy medicine. We've been trying Zyrtec for two weeks with no luck so plan B involves Singular, a prescription strength allergy medicine. If these attempts fail, then we'll draw blood to have it allergy tested and see what plan C will be.

Through all of this, I've got some guilt about living in the city since the air quality here isn't the best for people with allergies or asthma. Hopefully it won't be an issue and if it is, we'll cross that bridge when we get to it.

The best part of all of this is that Ada is acting normal and almost completely unbothered by this illness unless she is coughing or throwing up, both of which are rare and short lived. The solution is quick, easy and treatment thus far hasn't been expensive. And I'm so thankful that she isn't contagious since that would just wreck complete havoc on all of our lives.

I'm hopeful this will work and will be thankful when she isn't throwing up all over her bedding at 10 pm when Rick is working late and it's my job, as an uber pregnant mom with a 36 lb child covered in vomit, to get her into the tub, wash her hair, change her bedding, get a new set of pajamas, and start a load of laundry when all either of us want to do is get some sleep. I'm optimistic that the end of all that is near.

Moral of the story: It's great to have a family doctor that you see consistently. You can build trust in them, and they know your medical history so they can see the big picture and start with all of the relevant information to get a proper diagnosis.

Allergies at 2?

As parents, we worry about dietary allergies and what we are exposing our children to that could cause an alarming reaction and a scary trip to the emergency room. I’ve never really worried with Ada since neither Rick nor I have a history of allergies. I’m aware of the dangers and know to get her to the ER. I’ve heard stories of peanut allergies mostly. But it never really occurred to me that Ada might have seasonal allergies like Rick. We all had a bad cold during the Winter/Spring season transition, or I assumed it was a cold. Then Rick realized it was allergy season and our doctor suggested Zyrtec. Tree pollen has been bad all month so that could be it. Combined with a four day vacation at Grandma and Grandpas’ houses with multiple dogs and cats, makes me seriously suspect allergies as the cause.

In talking to friends about Ada’s symptoms – coughing so much she throws up clear phlegm or her latest meal, often at night or first thing in the morning, and now involving tons of snot that I’d classify as yellowish and disgusting—I’ve heard that some parents are having success with Zyrtec but it takes a few days to kick in so you have to keep them on it for awhile. Another recommendation was the addition of probiotics (like those found in Activa Yogurt) to her diet, which worked for a friend of a friend. And still another mom suggested getting children allergy tested once they are over two since that's when it is more accurate. I’m not excited about doing that until we know the Zyrtec doesn’t help and if we haven’t had any luck figuring out the causes just by observing her and taking note of what possible triggers may be.

Rick, on the other hand, is all for the allergy testing. Clearly he has never been tested, isn’t totally clear on what it entails and how painful it can be, and hasn't heard the horror stories. Or he just considers the benefits of knowing what she's allergic to more important than that trauma it will put her through. I had a friend who was tested in college and learned that she was allergic to 90% of the allergens she was tested for. I remember her showing me the red welts covering her entire back afterwards all labeled with their corresponding allergens. She was miserable for hours after the skin test. How do you explain that experience to a two-year-old? That’s where I draw the line. If Rick wants to know what the specific allergens are and the doctor recommends Ada should be tested, that’s fine. But I won’t be around when they do it unless they prove to me that it needs to be done.

In talking with other moms of kids with allergies, I am more thankful that Ada hasn’t had any food allergies so far. And I’m planning to stock up on Benedryl allergy strips to put in the car, house, diaper bag, and my purse so that I’m ready to at least buy her, or another child whom I happen to be around, enough time to get to the ER for treatment should they have a bad reaction. I’ve heard they are a lifesaver, literally. Not that I want to live in constant fear of having a kid react to an allergen on my watch, but it would give me more piece of mind since I don't cary EPI pens around in my back pocket.

Moral of the story: Watch for allergic reactions in your own children, be cautions when watching other children, and be prepared to act quickly should an allergy appear. That's the best you can do.

Easter Bunny Flu

Not to be confused with Swine Flu or Avian Flu, Ada caught a bout of the post-Easter Bunny Flu. Just a stomach bug really, but it knocked her out for a day and made my life a lot more messy. Here she can be seen passed out on the couch with Pooh Bear as a makeshift pillow. She was so exhausted that she feel asleep watching her 2nd movie of the morning. Too bad the towel wasn't more strategically placed. I was expecting it to protect the couch for anything that may not have settled with her that morning. Instead, she drank so much juice and water to get rehydrated that her diaper leaked, a lot. Now we are on a mission to learn how to clean down feather couch cushions.

Moral of the story: When it comes to having a sick child, cover every hard-to-clean surface with a plastic barrier and then washable blankets. The trick is to prevent liquid seepage whenever possible.

The 24 Hour Bug

It's finally here. We've been fearing it all winter and it finally arrived. Ada caught a 24 hour flu bug and it hit her yesterday afternoon. Talk about a rough 24 hours for the poor kid, not to mention tough on us (and our plans for the weekend now that we are contagious and awaiting the full-blown cootie invasion ourselves). Gesh.

We've done eight loads of laundry. Changed the sheets on our bed, her bed, her bed again. Covered the couch in blankets, towels, more blankets and more towels. Wiped up the floor in the kitchen, the floor in the hallway, the floor in the bathroom and the floor tiles in her room all due to messes caused by (what I call) the stomach flu. I've changed shirts and pants more times than I can count, both hers and mine, and finally took a nice cleansing shower at 10:30 last night when I was so covered in yuck I couldn't bear it any longer. Luckily, I suggested Rick change out of his work clothes, including his new dress pants, prior to tagging in for some Ada cuddles after work. Shortly after he changed, she begged for "wa-wa" and he succumbed to her whines, being careful not to let her have too much. But after awhile, she had worked him down and "not too much" became "more than enough" when it ended up all over him, his pants, and the couch--which got nailed three or four times even with all of the blankets and towels we could find to cover it and ourselves (Next time I'm getting garbage bags or a plastic drop cloth).

After changing her outfit three times in the first hour, I decided our house heaters, and her temperature, made it okay for her to don a diaper and a blanket or towel as needed. At one point, we had barely pulled the towels out of the dryer in time for her and Rick to dry off after her second shower of the night.

You know it's bad when, after draining the tub and wrapping her in a towel, she curls into the fetal position while still in the tub and hunkers down as if for the rest of the night. That was my sign that she desperately needed some rest and was too tired for me to even bother with a diaper at that point. She was so dehydrated that the diaper wasn't going to do any good and I knew she'd be up in three hours anyway.

I highly recommend you have a "tag team" system in place for sick kid days. I, once again, have no clue how I would have handled it all without Rick. Between running up and down the stairs for laundry, across the street to pick up dinner and, later on, shakes. Lifting Ada up and down out of the crib, off the couch, into the tub, out of the tub, into our bed, out of our bed. And then there is the whole task of waking up in the middle of the night with her. Rick got the first two times as I was a worthless lump in the bed at that point. I got the early morning wake up call at 6 am, which turned into me being the "wa-wa" sucker and having it come back to get me, literally, half-an-hour later in the form of a mess on the kitchen floor.

So if you want to see your heart break, just spend time with, or even look at, a sick child who doesn't understand why her little body is expelling a bunch of crud from her tummy. She just doesn't understand yet. All energy is drained and she can't understand why you won't give her water, even when she asks politely. It's awful.

On the bright side, I learned a few more tricks to add to my Mommy-arsenal.
1. Cover large areas with bath towels - or even beach towels if you get desperate- and then layer them with smaller hand towels, cloth diapers, or burp cloths that are easier to wash and replace.

2. When your child is demanding water, give them a few sips and then rub a piece of ice on their lips. Wrap the ice in a thin washcloth or a handkerchief and let them suck on it.

3. Consider raising the heat or just keep them covered so you don't have to wash their clothes every five seconds. Turns out that sick kids hate being dressed and undressed.

4. Have a lot of blankets and backup bed sheets on hand whenever possible, just in case.

5. When in doubt, just keep feeding movies into the DVD player while snuggling on the couch. Ada highly recommends Finding Nemo, Cars, and Toy Story 1 and 2.

Moral of the story: Sick sucks. Call in backup for help with mess reduction and pull out your patience reserves. You're going to need them... and a nap.

The $100 Pea

First off, Ada's fine.

That's a rule in my house that has been passed down from my mom. As long as you tell her her kids are okay, she'll listen to you. And if you are a police officer at the front door, she'll drill you until it is clear her children and husband are fine, then let you talk. So, Ada's fine...

But...

At dinner Monday night while I was out enjoying pre-natal yoga and Dad was on duty, Ada stuck several peas up her nose. "Several" being 6 6hat we know of. Rick removed five. He thinks she re-inserted two when he wasn't looking, and one is still there. I came home to find Ada watching a movie, the couch cushions on the floor with it's covers removed, and a husband saying "Ada's fine...but..."

Not only did she stick peas up her nose- and a carrot, she also had loose stools that caused not one, but two accidents. Rick just happened to put her on his lap or pick her up both times, resulting in his need to change clothes twice as well. Ada beats him for the most wardrobe changes since her shirt got wet when Rick splashed water in her eyes to try to get the pepper out of them. He was using the pepper near her nose to try to make her sneeze the pea out, but it somehow ended up in her eye and, well, that didn't go so well either.

I got to call our Doctoress who recommended the ER--it's 8;30 pm mind you. She was worried about the wet environment of the nose. If it was her ear, she could wait until morning. So, off to the ER. I got to wear one of those attractive face masks since I'm pregnant and it's flu season. Yeah. Ada thought that was awesome. The ER doctoress tried to remove the pea with no luck. She called an Ear Nose & Throat specialist who said to leave it alone and see him in the morning. "As long as it isn't a battery, and she's breathing fine, it can stay in there overnight." Too bad that wasn't our doctoress' advice or we'd still have our $100 copay.

So, we came home hoping that the pea would fall out overnight and prevent us from having to see the ENT in Skokie and scheduling a "surgery" to have it removed on Friday. Lucky for us all, while changing her this morning, the pea fell out of her pajamas and onto the bathroom floor. Yeah!

Now we just have to keep her from having a repeat performance.

Moral of the story: Kids stick stuff up their noses. As long as it isn't a battery and they can still breath and act normally, it probably isn't an emergency.

Sick, Sick, Sick

Today is my 18th day in a row of being sick. Ada's a close second with 16 days. We both have colds and hers is more of a cough than anything else. I finally transformed into the cough phase this last few days. And Rick just succumbed to all of the cooties in our house after being so good for about two weeks. If you can't beat 'em, join 'em. Yuck.

I took Ada in earlier this week to see a different Dr since ours wasn't in that day, and she said she's fine. Probably allergies and gave her singular. But they gave her a seasonal flu-shot while we were there so it wasn't all for nothing.

Then I went in on Friday afternoon and got a prescription for amoxicillian to help get rid of the green snot that has invaded my body. At least there is hope for me. And I got a seasonal flu-shot while I was there. I also learned that if Ada isn't better Monday, she's going in and likely coming out with a prescription for amoxicillian too. What a mess.

And today we broke down and went to a Chicago Public Health Clinic to get the H1N1 vaccine. Turns out that is almost the only place in the city to get it and boy were the lines long. I will say, they were moving people through quite efficiently and taking good care of everyone. It was quite the experience for us since we got to see a whole different side of the city, and a taste of how diverse our hometown really is. At one point, a woman got on the loudspeaker and asked if anyone speaks (something I've never heard of) . She then went on to explain that is the language spoken in Ethiopia and they were looking for someone to translate the forms for that person. Wow. I'm in a room with someone from Ethiopia.

The whole trip was manageable since we went with a friend and her son and the kids were pretty good. Ada was her friendly self and tough to keep nearby. She just couldn't understand why I wouldn't let her run wild amongst a crowd of about 300 people, all strangers. Hmmmm.... someday that will make sense to her. And I will say, my nurse yesterday was right. The aftermath of the H1N1 hurts less than the seasonal flu-shot. The arm I got the seasonal in still hurts over 24 hours later and the H1N1 doesn't hurt at all.

So today I am thankful for being on the road to recovery, modern medicine to get rid of my green goobers, the Chicago Public Health Clinic and it's supply of both the adult and children's version of the H1N1 shot, and my awesome husband for cleaning the house and running errands while Ada and I napped. I may be sick, but it could be so much worse.

Moral of the story: I guess I'm not such a flu-shot hater after all. I am, however, still a hater of all things cold related (snot, sneezing, cooties, the whole bit).

Alternate Halloween Costumes

Sometimes you miss out on the fun in life by being sick. This year, we sacrificed wearing silly Halloween costumes, attending parties and trick or treating in the neighborhood in lieu of getting some rest and attempting to keep our cooties to ourselves.

As we tried to stay entertained, while resting mind you, Ada tried on a few alternate costumes:

Bear's Defensive Tackle (Face it, they could use all the help they can get)

Shrek-earred Assistant Tailor

Dancing, Streaking Toddler... complete with Daddy's Magic Hat

Food Network's Youngest Chef

Moral of the story: Just because you're sick, doesn't mean you can't have any fun, even if it is Halloween.

My Friday Before Dinner

It's Friday. I've invited my college buddies over for dinner and what started out as just us and my friend Bob for dinner, turned into us three, Bob, Vern, Cara, Alex, Kim, Ted, Alison and Will. Sweet. We tend to have trouble finding time when we can all get together and this impromptu thing ended up working out really well.

Knowing that I can't cook, I arranged to order pizza and have it arrive about 6:45. Everyone planned to arrive around 6:30 or 7 and that seemed like as good a plan as any. We've learned from past dinners that if we don't pre-order, we starve while waiting for the food and then don't have time to play a game afterward, which is really what this is all about. Having fun with old friends, and playing games.

I had a few errands to run before picking Ada up so I left work at 4:30. I went to the ATM, then went to a different bank to make a deposit for the condo association. I have two letters in my hand that I need to mail. Previously, when making the condo association bank deposit, I though I had inadvertently put the envelope I keep the ATM card in, into the mail drop box with a bill I was mailing then. That resulted in me being distracted and telling the story about just how I'd lost the card when Ada fell down the back porch stairs. Yikes. Don't want a repeat of that. (It turns out that the ATM card was in an envelope on the kitchen counter the whole time.)

This time, I again have letters to mail so I crossed the street to deposit two bills into a postal drop box and re-crossed the street to be on the south side for the entry to the El train home. As I'm waiting for the light, it dawns on me that I can't remember where I put the ATM card. The light turns in my favor and I cross the street while quickly, not frantically but concernedly, digging in my purse for the ATM card envelope. I know it's there. I just can't find it under all of the crap I have. Why do I have a sippy cup, a diaper, wipes, and goldfish snacks in here? How the heck am I supposed to find...SMACK!

Oh no I didn't. Oh yes you did.

While intensely focusing on the contents of my purse, I continued to walk toward the El station and completely lost all awareness of my surroundings and walked straight into...wait for it...A BUS SHELTER. Thunk. My calf, knee and head all connected with the advertising side of the small structure.

"Oh My God. I did not just do that", I think.

"Oh yes I did." I start laughing uncontrollably. Then I realize, "What if there is someone waiting for a bus? They must think I'm an idiot."

I peer around the corner of the shelter. Yep. Hi there. In my head I'm saying, "That was me who just walked into the side of this place. Sorry about that. Hope I didn't startle you but damn, that's funny." In reality, I shot her a quick glance with the biggest smile on my face and quickly continued on my way down the street. Laughing to myself and at myself the whole way to the El train. Then I laughed even more as I sent my friend Colette a text retelling the event.

But that's not all.

I got Ada, got home and all but forgot about the previous "incident", putting it in my back pocket for a funny story later on. It was time I focus on cleaning up the last bits of things that are out of place and feeding Ada before everyone starts to arrive.

All is going well. I've done the dishes and she helped me put them away - which I encouraged as I quickly grabbed each glass plate and dish she handed to me from the bottom rack of the dishwasher. Boy was that nerve-wracking but she insisted on helping.

Ada is eating. I'm settled in to watch some Grey's Anatomy on ABC.com (since we don't have cable). I've supplied Ada with a gourmet dinner of bagel, goldfish crackers, graham crackers, turkey, and apple sauce. And I've just dumped out our old milk and given her a full cup of milk that tasted okay to me but is on it's last day as well. Why does our milk seem to go bad so quickly these days? I text Rick to have him pick up new milk since our friend Bob is coming over and that man drinks more milk than anyone I've ever seen in my entire life. Multiple gallons in a week. He could have been a dairy cow in another life.

All is well in the world. Rick comes home and greets us. He removes his winter coat (yes, I know it's early October!) and settles in next to us to see what is going on. I have two minutes left on Grey's Anatomy and friends will be arriving anytime now. Ada's finishing up dinner and... then... it starts. As we are sitting around all content with the world, Ada starts throwing up her entire dinner. At first, we think she's just choking on something and is going to spit it out. Then it keeps coming up, and up, and up. She has expelled everything in her stomach. All over herself, the highchair, the floor. Everywhere.

"It must have been the milk. I didn't think it was 'bad' but it clearly wasn't 'good'. Let's clean her up." I mutter as I take her to the bathroom while holding her at arms length, hoping to stay clean.

She is, by this time, hysterical. Screaming. Not quite sure what the heck is going on or why she has her dinner all over her body. I've got her in the tub and she won't let me take her vomit covered shirt off. I'm tugging, she's resisting. Finally I win and get her naked. I turn on the shower and start to spray her down. She's still hysterical.

"Screw it." I think to myself as she reaches out to me, wet, naked, and covered in her regurgitated dinner. She crawls out of the tub and into my fully-clothed, dry clothes and clean arms and cries. I get her to calm down a bit and then decide to join her in the shower to comfort her and get her cleaned up. So what if I have 8 people coming over for dinner in just a matter of minutes. They are such good friends, I practically consider them family.

I'm in the shower with her when I hear the first door buzzer. At least Rick's home to let people in. I'm shampooing her hair for the second buzz. We are rinsing off for the third tone. And we are standing naked, dripping wet and trying to towel off when the pizza arrives. Thankfully I set out money for the pizza guy ahead of time and Bob took care of it all. My kind of house guests.

I passed Ada out to Rick so he could get her dressed again. Then I quickly shuffle around the hall corner to my bedroom to get decent. A quick glance in the mirror reveals that my mascara has run, but overall my makeup is salvageable and my hair isn't too wet. Five minutes and a whole new outfit later, I'm dishing up pizza and enjoying friends.

About an hour later, I remember that good old bus shelter incident and decide it's a great time to share one of my most "blonde" moments ever as tears of laughter gush from my eyes.

Good times had by all.

Moral of the story: The best friends are those that can help themselves and love you just the way you are. And those that laugh with you instead of at you. Just keep laughing at yourself.

Parenting rule to live by: When in doubt, throw it out.

Will you just Pee already!

You know how, when something big happens or someone famous dies, everyone runs around years later saying "I remember exactly what I was doing when...". My parents have told me about when JFK was shot. I remember where I was when I found out about Princess Diana, the first plane hitting the twin towers. Big stuff like that.

I found myself today, sitting in the Doctoress' office with Ada, after waiting 1.5 hours for her to pee into a little baggie they sticker to her butt to catch a sample, and thinking that that will be the story I tell of when I found out Michael Jackson died. Yep. That will be my memory.

"Well Ada, when you were 1.5 years old, I took you to the Doctoress because you had been running a 'low-grade' fever for three days and I thought it was teething but wanted to be sure. The nurse taped some little baggie into your diaper and I tried to get you to pee for AN HOUR AND A HALF. I tried to feed you goldfish crackers. I tried to give you water. I ran your hands under warm water at the sink. We walked around the Doctoress' office. I pushed on what I thought might be your bladder. I sang to you, rocked you, spun you on the chair in her office. I tried everything. It was awful. You were fussy and screaming. Hungry. Tired. In pain from your molars coming in and all of a sudden, your daddy sent me a text message -- remember when we used to text message Rick? -- and it said "Michael Jackson died." And I replied "Farrah Faucet did too." She was one of the original Charlie's Angels but that was before my time (but not your grandma's-they all tried to have her hairstyle at their weddings--kinda like my generation and 'the Rachel'--Jennifer Aniston's haircut-- from the show Friends).

Never did get that pee sample. But there is always tomorrow.

In memory of Michael, I'll try to get some video of Ada doing her backward foot shuffle which I have lovingly dubbed the "moonwalk". He might have been weird and disturbed, but he made some really great music. And Farrah had great hair.

A few key questions for your doctor...

If you have a sick child who needs to see a new doctor for the first time, there are a few questions you might want to ask before making your appointment. Or if you are in the ER, make sure they can handle a child and know what do to with a little person.

This seems obvious but I am guilty of assuming that a Dr is a Dr is a Dr. If a Dr works at a clinic, I just assume they are a family practice clinic and that they can deal with any age of patient that walks in. That's how almost every doctor I've ever had has been. General family practice that can do it all.

This is not true.

Last weekend, my daughter was out of town while we were whooping it up for St. Patrick's Day here in the city. When she got to Grandma's house, we realized she had a fever and needed to see a Doctor in a different town, on a Saturday. My mom recommended a clinic she knows of that was open --thereby avoiding the expense of the local ER. I called ahead to make sure they knew she was coming, that she was with her grandparents, that I'd be available via phone for any questions, and that I authorized her grandparents to treat her as needed. Here I thought I was being the good, thorough mom. Boy did I think wrong.

What I should have asked was:
Do you have a pediatrician on staff who is available to see her?
Do you treat kids her age?
Is there another clinic that is better suited to see her?

And I should have caught the red flags when I was on the phone with the Dr. and when my mother-in-law was describing their visit on Sunday. When I mentioned that Ada was on Albuterol in the past for Bronchiolitis she said "What?" and I repeated, "Bronchiolitis" assuming my cell phone connection was bad and she just didn't hear me. Turns out, I don't think she knows what that is and it is one of the most common things kids get when they are little. During the visit, they didn't have an infant/toddler scale so they asked my father-in-law to step on the scale, then get on with her and figure out the difference. 28 lbs. She's just shy of that but it's pretty accurate so I didn't think much of it. Any Dr's office that can handle kids, should have a kid's scale.

Then, I took her in to our Doctoress for a checkup today since we scheduled it Saturday before we knew she had a fever. Thank goodness we did. What the clinic Dr diagnosed Ada with was an ear infection. She gave her 3.5 ml of amoxicillan 3 times a day. When I told that to my Doctoress today, she immediately checked Ada's ear. No infection. None what-so-ever. She asked if Ada had a fever when she went to the clinic. Yes. It was about 102. Ah ha! When a baby has a fever, it can make their ears red and therefore make it appear that she has an ear infection. Part one of the mystery solved.

When I heard the original diagnosis an hour after Ada was at the clinic, I looked at my husband like the Dr was crazy. It didn't make any sense to me that she would have an ear infection but Ada was on antibiotics so either way, I figured she was getting something to fight the infection and she was improving so that was good. Another red flag was that my gut told me things didn't add up. How does the ear infection deal with the coughing and throwing up? Rick's justifying it by saying that Ada was pulling on her ears a lot lately and I debunked that by saying that studies have recently shown that is just baloney and it doesn't correlate. Kids play with their ears either way. (Which my Doctoress confirmed again today.)

When Ada got home on Sunday, she was a mess. Tylenol and Motrin alternating for the pain. Ear drops to numb her ear. And when I went to give her the last dose of Amoxicillian of the day another red flag went up. This dose was way less than she's ever had before and she's been on Amoxicillian 5 times since she was born so I should know the dosing. Again, I convinced myself that maybe this was a more concentrated mixture since it was from a different pharmacy or maybe ear infections take a smaller dose.

HELLO! I read Blink. I know I'm supposed to listen to my gut. What the hell happened here?

As it turns out, I should have taken more responsibility in the first place. I woke up telling Rick I wanted to take Ada in and he said he didn't think she needed to see the Doctor. ALWAYS LISTEN TO A MOTHER'S INTUITION. Secondly, I wasn't going to take her in today but I ended up needing to see the Dr anyway so we got a two-for-one special. Luckily, the Doctoress instisted on checking Ada over and asked the right questions to get to the bottom of it all and now it makes sense. It's a good idea to get her in to see the regular Doctor just in case. Thirdly, I should have been the go-to person the whole time instead of having Rick talk to this Doctoress, me talk to the other, in-laws talk to the nurse and Dr at the clinic, without anyone really knowing the whole picture but me. My bad.

On top of all this, when Ada went to Sycamore, she had heat rash. When she went in today, it had turned into eczema -- we had to get a new prescription for that. Now she is on Amoxicillian for her brochiolitis, a cream for her eczema, an inhaler to open up her lungs and help her breath, and Motrin for the pain since she is teething during all of this too. If that's not enough, I don't know what is but I could sure use some more sleep. :)

Moral of the story: Listen to your inner thoughts. If something doesn't seem right, speak up. Question it. Get another opinion. Check into it more. And go with your gut. This is your kid we're talking about.

A case of bad timing...

My mom taught me about Murphy's Law at a young age. Whatever can go wrong, will go wrong. Occasionally, I find this to be true. My optimistic side doesn't let me think about it very often, but this weekend was one of those times.

It just so happens that this past weekend was Rick's 30th birthday. It also happens to have been the observed drinking holiday for St. Patrick's day, and the weekend we decided to celebrate both with a rather large party at our house involving 30 of our closest friends that were still sober enough to stumble to our house -- some of them started drinking at 9 am Saturday morning.

In preparation for the party, we had been hoping to clean the house, grocery shop, beer shop, and finish all of our chores. We also made arrangements to ship Ada to grandma and grandpa's house for an overnight. All was going well until Rick had a major deadline come up at work which made him unavailable most of the week. Then my mom came into town for Oprah on Tuesday which took a morning of cleaning from me, but she cleaned the stove and microwave while she was here so that was a bonus. Then my dad came into town Friday and took us to dinner so that stole a night of cleaning time from us. Then the bomb dropped. Ada got sick.

Friday night, after 3 or 4 glasses of wine each, we got home to a fussy mess of a munchkin. Ada was up on and off all night with a nasty cough, throwing up for the duration. We tried to tuck her between us for a family bed arrangement but she spewed hot dog remains on our sheets within 5 minutes of lying down and was thereby banished from our room. After taking turns going in and out, up and down, I finally made a bed on her floor and set up camp for the night. That was great until she took my pillow, woke me up every hour or so to spit up on my blanket, and stuck her extremities in between my ribs at every available opportunity. Needless to say, I was a cranky come Saturday morning, and Rick wasn't much better.

Luckily, we had grandparents coming to rescue us around 11. We did our best to get 4 loads of laundry done in the morning. Rick quickly made grocery lists and cleaned. I hustled around to do what I could with hacking Ada in tow. All around, a very bad scene. Once Ada left, we tried to take a nap that was shortened by a phone call from the Doctoress to say that if Ada had a fever we needed to bring her in as she could have pneumonia. In my hazy stupor, I at least had the foresight to have Rick pass his insurance card to his parents in case she'd need to go to the clinic back home. Of course she spiked a fever and the card did indeed come in handy. The Doctoress in Sycamore diagnosed her with an ear infection and soon her life would improve with the help of some antibiotics.

Meanwhile, the party must go on.

With Ada settled in good hands with good drugs, we set off to finish cooking, cleaning, and shopping to prep for our soiree. We finished the food at 7:30 with the help of a few guests and magically made the house look presentable to the untrained eye.

Since Ada was under the weather and we knew we'd have to drive over an hour each way to retriever her on Sunday, Rick and I opted for a lower key evening of drinking instead of all out partying.

Sunday morning we got to sleep in... until 7, 8, or 9 -- depending on when you count it since Rick got up 3 times and I made it until 9 when, surprise, my cell phone rang. We tried to take Rick's brother to brunch, but failed when the line to the diner was out the door. We opted for Einstein's bagels instead and witnessed a jammed packed parking lot that made things interesting. Once on the road, we stopped at a gaming store to pick up a few things off Rick's wish list for his birthday. Then back on the road, and back to discomfort for me as my herniated discs in my neck were not up for a drive -- having been mashed into Ada's floor two nights prior, my body wasn't up for anything. And the whole standing up all day cleaning didn't help much.

Once in Rockford to make the baby trade off, we stopped for lunch. Ada was a HOT mess as she was in desperate need of a nap. Hungry. Fussy. In pain. And all out ticked off that we ditched her in her time of need. I inhaled my meal while Rick played with her outside. Then vice versa. Then a long drive home where Rick drove and Ada and I napped the whole way. Finally, Bliss.

Poor Rick spent his first night of being 30 on the couch so that Ada could take his side of the bed and he could be in decent shape for work as he's still on deadline until Friday.

And so it goes.

Moral of the story: Sacrifice takes on a whole new meaning when you have kids. Beware.

What a day!

It started out well... and I was optimistic that we were going to have a great Monday... but then... well, things changed...

You know it's going to be a rough day when you've given your child 3 baths before noon and begin to run low on towels even though they all started out clean this morning.

Ada decided this was not going to be her day. She didn't want to take a nap. She got the runs, and diaper rash, and pooped every chance she got. Silly me didn't wise up and switch to disposable diapers because we are running low on them and I am committed to saving the world one cloth diaper at a time (who cares about saving my sanity?). What time we didn't spend in the bathroom flushing diapers clean, rinsing diapers out, washing poop off baby's bottom, we spent cuddling in her room, applying diaper cream, or wiping up pee and poop from her naked baby time -- supposedly the best cure for diaper rash. Not a cure for mom's sanity. Poor little butt.

On top of all that, Ada decided she didn't want to be a neat eater today either. Bananas and pancakes on the floor at breakfast, cheese and crackers and sweet potatoes at lunch, a teething biscuit somewhere in between -- which she got on her feet, in her hair, and all over her shirt and pants mind you-- eggs, mashed potatoes, applesauce and cheerios for dinner. I guess today was white/yellow food day. Do white/yellow foods give babies the runs? They sure did today. Poor baby.

In an attempt to try to make things better, we set out for a walk to run an errand. It's cold out but Ada loves being outside. I put her in the Ergo carrier, snapped her on my back and she was asleep before I even got into the hallway. I came back in from the hall to get a water bottle and we were off. Actually, I was off and she was out. I got 3/4 of the way down the street and struggled to get the little sleep hood snapped in place so that Ada's head would stay snug to my back as she slept. All the while I'm trying to pull her pant legs down and her socks up so that her legs don't get cold. Poor kid.

We get to our destination after a good ten minute walk in the cold. I go in, get the car passes from the alderman's office. I readjust her pants and socks again and we head for home. I stopped to get a toy for my neighbors' new dog and the clerk stops me to tell me my bag is leaking. Yeah, that water bottle I was so eager to get so that I wouldn't be so thirsty... yeah, well, I guess the lid wasn't on quite right because it soaked my bag. And everything in my bag. Fortunately, only a packet of tissues and the two thank you cards I had written earlier today were ruined. Everything else is airing out nicely. As I left the store I apologized for the water trail I left behind and the clerk was quick to point out that as a pet store, that floor has seen much worse.

As we continued on our journey, I decide to get a replacement peephole for our neighbor because we installed one for her last night and learned that her door is way too thin for a peephole. Now I don't know what to do. Make it stick out? Leave a big hole in her door? Or suggest that she get a more sturdy door for security's sake? I'm voting for the 3rd option. Anyway... we stop into the local ACE hardware, get another peephole and the nice lady there fixes Ada's hat so her ear doesn't freeze off from sticking out. Silly kid.

Then we decide to stop by Jen's house to say hey to her new baby and see how she's doing. The baby was asleep and adorable as usual. We got to see the nursery and it's so cute. Ada got hot and fussy so we decided to head back home as it was nearing dinnertime anyway. I walk down Jen's driveway with Ada on my back and as I turned the corner onto the sidewalk, ho hum, la la la, WHOOOP! I slipped on a patch of ice and landed, thankfully, on my left hand and my knees. Ada didn't even flinch. I got up. Looked around to see if anyone saw me and to ensure them I was fine but no one saw me. This is the height of irony as that's how Jen and I met. She fell on the ice while walking to work one day, I saw her and asked if she was okay. We've been friends, and neighbors, ever since. Of course I had to text her to say that we'd fallen but were okay and she needed to be extra careful if she goes out with the baby. My poor knees.

We got home alive, thankfully. As soon as we walked through the front door, Ada started crying. I changed yet another poopy diaper, fed her some milk, made dinner and tried to make the best of it until daddy came home. He got to witness at least two more poops, including one while on a towel in the living room that she immediately stepped in and was whisked off to the bathroom for her 6th rinse in the tub today. Poor baby!

She's screaming, I'm exhausted, life sucks and then there is Rick--calm, collected, sympathetic. He's happy to come rescue both of us from our crazy poop-filled day. Our hero!

Moral of the story: If you have to have a poopy baby, be thankful that you can stay home and not deal with that mess in public. And sometimes, it's worth screwing the environment when it comes to a baby with the runs. Sanity should trump all else when a screaming toddler in involved.

Mom-cation

What do you do when someone is willing to watch your child for a whole week?

Uh... that's not a hard question. You take them up on it of course!

Rick's mom and dad had the week of New Year's off from work and offered to spend it with Ada since our nanny was on vacation too. Rick and I had to work and were eager to take a break from diapering and feeding and all that baby stuff. And I needed a Mom-cation.

Talk about weird. Not only is a Mom-cation fun, nice, and relaxing, it is also lonely, worrisome, sad, and empty. We tried to sleep in and made it until 9 at best. Our bodies aren't made to do that anymore. We spent most of the time making shelves for the basement (see previous post). That wasn't very relaxing, but it also didn't smell like poop. We got to catch up on the laundry since we didn't have four loads of diapers and baby clothes to do. Oh, I got to ride in the front passenger seat of the car for the first time in months (I usually sit in back with Ada). And the highlight was that we went to brunch together at a local diner, and we went to dinner and a movie! Too bad we were tired by the time we got home at 10 and went straight to bed. It was nice knowing we could have stayed out until all hours of the night without a curfew. It was also nice not having to rush home at the end of the work day to relieve the nanny.

It wasn't as nice knowing that Ada was sick and wasn't drinking milk and wasn't eating well and was fussy and all that. I felt like a negligent mother. And it was sad every time I thought about coming home to a smiling hug-muffin, knowing she wasn't there to greet me. It's tough to adjust to that. And it's really weird going to the grocery store and not wanting to take every kid home with you that you see. Know I know why people steal kids. Not because they are trying to be mean, awful people. It's really just because kids are so dang cute that you just want to smother them with love and eat them. Weird. I know. Needless to say, we couldn't leave early enough on the day we went to pick her up. And I couldn't get enough cuddle time with her when we finally got to grandma's house. It was great to have her back.

Moral of the story: Mom-cations can be good and refreshing but I think you have to do them more often in order to get comfortable with the idea and make it easier. Just remember to take time to enjoy your "time off".

When panic strikes...

Three time this last week I've had to calm my mom instinct to repress the urge to immediately panic. The first was when Ada was holding on to the side of the bath tub and chewing on the porcelain when she somehow bonked her teeth on the tub edge. She started screaming and upon further evaluation, I noticed she was bleeding a little from her two front teeth. Instant almost-panic. I took a deep breath, checked her teeth again, wiped away the blood, and then took another deep breath. She's fine. Shake it off. No biggie. Crisis averted.

Then I worried that Ada had broken something when she decided to hurl herself off our bed. I was standing right there, between the bed and the closet. I turned for part of a second and she was able to launch herself off the edge of the bed, roll onto the floor and land on top of Rick's shoe with her cheekbone. After a minute of extreme screaming and a few tears, she settled down enough to reveal a red mark on her cheek that later turned into a bruise. Another crisis averted.

And finally, when I went in to get Ada out of bed on Thursday, she was covered with vomit. Not having had her really throw up ever before, I wasn't sure what to do with her. I immediately assumed it was a food allergy and stuck her in the shower with Rick to get cleaned up. A few hours later, our nanny called to say Ada had thrown up all over the couch and wasn't feeling well. Then she remembered one of the kids on Ada's play date had been sick. That led Rick home to stay with Ada for the day and me to make her an appointment with the Dr. Turns out it is just a case of the flu. She'll be fine. We just have to keep her hydrated. She'll be fine.

Moral of the story: Do all you can to prevent your child from getting injured or sick, and remember not to panic if something should happen. It's probably not as bad as you think. Stay calm.

Recovering slowly...

When there is a death in the family, it helps to have a small child accompany you to all of the related events i.e. visitation, ceremony and funeral. This past weekend was tough for the entire family, but made bearable for me at least, by having Ada with us. I stood in the back of the funeral home during the visitation with her as she cooed and sang, making the only audible sounds at times as everyone in the room reflected on life and death. It was a comfort in a way to know that the circle of life continues - how very Lion King of me, I know.

And at the funeral mass, I was able to hold Ada for the first portion of the ceremony in the church as she was amazed by the three, yes three ceiling fans. That worked for about 10 minutes, then the music entertained her for another five minutes and finally, with my mom's help, we moved out to the church's front yard so as not to completely disrupt the rest of the service.

Ada timed her nap well as my mom took her home while I attended the burial. Spending so much time with family causes you to reflect on many things but also to learn a lot about your family. For instance, Ada's great grandma on Rick's side of the family died fairly recently -- in 1990. She's the one Ada is named after, even though we didn't really intend to name her after a family member but it just happened that we liked the name. And then it turns out there is a great grandma Ada on my side of the family too. Bizarre. I never met either Ada, but Rick attended his Grandma Ada's funeral. Which I found a little weird because after paying our respects to Rick's grandfather, we were led around the tent to see the family resting area --complete with a tombstone with Grandma Ada's name on it --same as my daughter's name. Creepy, but cool at the same time. From the stories told this weekend about Great Grandma Ada, she was a wonderful woman.

On the other hand, my mom's Grandma Ada, whom she never met, was not quite the upstanding citizen we'd have preferred. According to my mom, her Grandma Ada had six kids with her husband and then left him and the kids to marry or run off with another man, leaving the six kids to be split up into foster care. My grandfather being one of them. And the sixth child was questioned as to belonging to her husband or not. Drama! So we're sticking with the story that our Ada is named after Rick's Grandma Ada who was a wonderful person.

And I'll just say, while it was great to have Ada with us for all of the family events, funerals are also a good time to catch cooties... so remember your hand sanitizer. Rick caught a cold and gave it to Ada and now we're listening to the biggest cough from the smallest little thing. And to make matters even more exciting, Ada had her first episode of projectile vomit today. Poor thing. Her cough is just too much. We're hoping for a speedy recovery, and some teeth while we're at it.

Moral of the story: Family is always important to stay close to, not just in bad times, but in all times, and a little hand sanitizer can do wonders when you're planning to shake a gazillion hands. Use it often.

Day Care Drama

I'm not one to over think things much, or I don't think I am anyway. So I've been pretty confused as to why everyone keeps asking me "How's day care going?" "How's Ada doing at day care?" "Is Ada adjusting to day care alright?" I mean, day care is day care. She goes to day care, I go to work. I pick her up, she urps on me, we go home. She eats, goes to bed and we repeat. Then our four day "weekend" comes, we try to stick to a schedule, and we do it all over again come Tuesday.

I've only known half a dozen parents who have taken their kids to day care and I've never really known other parents who didn't have it go okay so I don't have any preconceived ideas about how it should or shouldn't be. And Ada has been really fussy at day care but I just assumed that was her teething or one of her colds or her sinus infection, or just a rough day. So last week I was a bit shocked when her day care said we need to find a strategy to improve her experience at day care. I'm not sure what that means and I feel funny admitting it but, we have a parent-day care conference scheduled for this week to discuss how things are going. At 6 months old I already feel like she's dragging me into the Principal's office. My goodness!

So far, I think I've been rather relaxed about day care and not too worried about what she's doing all day since I know she's in good hands and I trust her care takers. But since she has been having a bunch of fussy days and there isn't much consistency between how she behaves at home vs. day care, it turns out that this whole day care thing is really stressful. Because she isn't getting reports of having a lot of "Happy Ada" time, now I'm concerned that it might not be going okay. She might not be adjusting to it as well as I thought. Which, as a mom, makes me feel like I am failing her and I constantly wonder if she is crying all day while I am at work. I know when I'm home with her, she always has a reason for crying -- mainly her teeth are hurting--but I can run through the wet, dirty, overtired, hot, hungry, gassy, bored, teething, uncomfortable list and figure it out. Occasionally she just needs a cuddle but for the most part, I'd say 99% of the time she has a reason to be ticked off at this age -- unlike before when you really just never knew. So I'm extra concerned that she may be crying just because she doesn't like going to day care. Maybe she's secretly allergic to other kids... hmmmm... that would be bad if we have more kids huh...

So among all of the things I must learn as a parent, I now get to include how to make sure she is adjusting well to day care -- or the more scary alternative of finding an alternative to day care while living in the city. To add to my list of things no one ever tells you before you have kids... not only is day care expensive, but there aren't many options - all having pluses and minus - and they tend to have wait lists to get your kid accepted if you live in the city. If things don't start to improve with day care, I'll have to look into a nanny share, other day cares, another mom who is looking to take in another kid during the day, a college student who needs a summer job a few days a week, or becoming a stay-at-home mom full time -- which would be a serious last resort for me and financially not really viable.

And on top of the stress of thinking she might not be her happy self all day long, here I am with the feeling that my kid is the one that day care just can't wait to get rid of at 5pm. "It's Ada's mom, Thank God!" "Finally we can get rid of this screaming child!" I don't want to be that parent. I don't want her to be that kid who screams all day and is miserable. Not only do I not want the day care staff to look at me like I've brought a monster into the world, but I don't want her to be unhappy. She's my little monster, and I love her. I'll admit there are days where I think it would be nice to send her back or give her away, but I don't really mean it. It's just a nice fantasy to have when she has been screaming at me for an hour because her teeth hurt and she's tired because she couldn't take a nap because she was coughing and couldn't sleep because her teeth hurt and the Orajel wore off already and she's tired...and I'm tired of her screaming at me.

Who knew?

Moral of the story: This blog is to be continued... we'll see how it ends up. Either way, Ada needs to be somewhere she is comfortable, happy, and enjoys going to three days a week. Hopefully we'll be closer to figuring that out by the end of the week for her sake and for ours.