Friday, October 23, 2009

"Ella, what are these?"

This morning I was helping Ella get dressed. Next to her bed is a play kitchen. While she was putting on her pants I noticed some tiny balls on the top of the kitchen. I picked up one and looked at it wondering what it was. "Could be a seed," I thought. "Could be a dropping from a bug?"As I gathered these 7 or 8 tiny balls, I asked Ella if she knew what they were. This is the conversation that followed:

Me: Honey, do you know what these are?
Ella: Yes. Those are my boogers.
Me: What? These are your boogers?
Ella: Yeah.
Me: Ella, why do you have boogers up here? Were you saving them?
Ella: Yeah. I was making a pile of them.
Me: Why?
Ella: So I could make a booger monster.

At this point I'm laughing so hard I'm crying.

Me: Honey! That is gross. We don't keep our boogers! We throw them away. (At which point I did - throw them away.)
Ella: Mom! Don't get rid of them! I need them!
Me: No. Ella. You don't. How long were you collecting your boogers, anyway?
Ella: Twenty years.
Me: So you wanted to make a booger monster?
Ella: Yup.
Me: And how many boogers does it take to make a booger monster?
Ella: Fourteen.
Me: And what were you going to do with the booger monster when you made him?
Ella: It was gonna be HUGE! And it was going to be Unicorn vs. Booger Monster!
Me: It's time to brush your teeth for school. No more collecting boogers, 'kay?
Ella: But Mom!
Me: Brush your teeth.

OK. So my kid is 5. She picks her nose. Don't even try to tell me your 5 year old son or daughter has never done that. But, how many of your kids could come up with such an elaborate story for why she was doing it? I thought so. I've got one very imaginative daughter!

What Ails Me

I hate it when my kids are sick.

I am not a hypochondriac....well not too much of one. If I feel a pain, or have a cough/sneeze/sniffle, I don't assume it is something more. But when it comes to my kids, I worry.

Ella and Grayson are not very sickly children. I have never had to hospitalize either of them for an illness, and they have never had to use nebulizer treatments. I can count on one hand the number of confirmed ear infections Grayson has had. And although Ella gets a bit of seasonal allergies in the spring, she has only missed one day of preschool due to illness in 1 1/2 years.

I try to let little things slide. If Ella has a runny nose, I give her tissues. If she has a cough, I give her a lozenge. If Grayson has a stuffy nose, I give him a decongestant. Although I am a firm believer in taking a pill to make myself feel better, I have been trying to go easy on meds when it comes to the kids.

Yesterday, Grayson had a cold hit him very quickly in the afternoon. I gave him some Advil thinking his symptoms might be teething related. He wouldn't eat his dinner, spaghetti-his favorite, and he only wanted to be near me. After his bath, he passed out in my bed. His body was so hot to the touch. I HATE that. Although I know he can feel that way, and still not have a fever, it still scares me.

This morning he woke up screaming around 5:30, and he was still so hot. I slipped some more Advil into a sippy-cup with juice, and snuggled with him on the couch. His eyes were red, he wasn't speaking very clearly, and his kept saying he hurt, but I couldn't tell where.

He had this same type of problem about a month ago, and the doctor gave him anti-biotics because he had an infection on his tonsils. I thought that maybe this was the same thing again, so I decided to take him to the doctor right away.

I always have an internal struggle with whether or not I should take the kids to the doctor. Do I drive all the way over to Christie on Windsor and pay $15 if my kids just needs some rest and Tylenol? What if it is something more and they need Amoxicillian? Should I wait a day? Should I take him/her to the ER? If I wait, and they get worse, will I feel like a bad mom for not knowing/doing better? ARGH!

I took Ella to preschool, and drove Grayson to the doctor's office. Of course, wouldn't you know it, he starts acting better on the way over. "Look Mommy! Leaves!" "Look Mommy! A pond!" He wouldn't take a snack, but he chugged a cup of juice.

He played with all the germ-infested toys in the waiting room. I say "all" when there really is only two. I sprayed them down with my Lysol-to-Go spray, and gave him GermX too. I'm no fool. There was a sign posted on the door to the preschool stating they had multiple children with "probable" cases of H1N1, and one kid with chicken pox. Nice.

The doctor tells me the Little Man has a cold. Well, there is another $15 down the Peace of Mind Toilet. I ask her what I have to do to get my kids their flu shots, because there seems to be a shortage, and my son is a thumb-sucker. Can you say, "Germ Mania"! She said he can get both his flu and H1N1 shot right then. Wow! I am impressed, and relieved. I decide that this is going to be the best chance for Ella to get hers, and set up an appointment for this afternoon.

Poor Grayson. Normally he does really well with shots. Today, not so much. One shot in each arm had him screaming at the top of his lungs and crying some of the biggest tears I've ever seen. Before the nurse gave him the painful arm pricks, he had asked me for a Thomas the Train sticker. The last time we were there, he left with two. This time there was a poor selection in the basket. I asked the nurse if she could look for one in another room. She wasn't sure if she could find one, but said she'd try. After his screaming started, she practically bolted out of the door in a mad search for Thomas. She came back a few minutes later, but my pained child refused to take the sticker. When I tried to give it to him, he turned away, as though he was thinking, "I know that is coming from the evil lady with yellow hair. She hurt me, and I don't want anything from her."

Grayson fell asleep on the way home, with an empty belly and two Garfield band-aids covering his "wounds." He slept for a short time in his bed, and is now, as I type this, sleeping on the couch in a pool of sweat. I hear him moan every now and then, but he's not awake. I feel so bad for him. It's so hard to help a child when they cannot quite put into words what is hurting them.

Brady should be back soon from taking Ella for her flu shot and H1N1 nasal mist. I'm hoping that went well, or there could be a new Barbie appearing later today.

Am I doing the right thing by having them vaccinated for the H1N1 flu? I sure hope so. I am not a doctor or a nurse. I am just a mother trying to do what is best for her kids.

Wednesday, October 14, 2009

Friday, October 2, 2009

Hair I Am

I am a hairy gal. I don't like this fact, but there is nothing I can do about it. Well, that's not true. For thousands of dollars, I could have laser hair removal, but I don't have thousands of dollars. (Wanna loan me some?). I have thick, coarse, dark hair, and shaving is not an easy task. I get razor burn easily. I have to use a men's razor, because those girly, pretty ones don't do a good enough job.
When I was in college, I had surgery on both of my legs at the same time. The scar tissue on my legs from the operation was so sensitive, that shaving was painful. Even now, over 10 years later, just touching those areas on my legs is uncomfortable.
So. Shaving my legs is not too high up on my priority list. It's slightly painful in some spots, and the hair grows entirely too fast.
Now, shaving the armpits is a different story. I don't have scar tissue to worry about, I just have crazy razor burn. Don't try to give me ideas on how to prevent it - I've tried everything. I am not one of you lucky people who can shave her armpits every day. No sirree. Once every three days is the best I can do. If I were to do it two days in a row, I'd be screaming in the shower.
When the weather is cool enough for me to be in jeans and long-sleeved shirts, it makes me happy. I can hide my embarrassing hair issues (except the facial hair, but that's a hormone thing, and a story for another day) and feel a little more confidant.
"Sarah, why are you sharing all this personal information with us" you ask? I'll tell you why.
I walked into my almost-five-year-old daughter's room the other day, and she was drawing a picture. She was very excited to show me.
"Look Mommy, I drew a picture of you!"
"You did?" I said. "That's great, baby! Let me see." She shows me this:

"It's beautiful," I said. "What is this? Hair?"
"Oh yes!" she says. "That's your armpit hair."
*Dramatic pause by me.*
"My armpit hair?" "Why would you draw my armpit hair?" I ask.
"Because your armpits are always hairy."
"But maybe Mommy doesn't like her armpits being hairy," I said.
"Oh, but I love your hairy armpits, Mommy!" Ella says, drawing another picture of me.

At least one of us does.