Does that chair have my name on it?

Well, it has been a week since my last blog post. Sounds a little like going to confession, doesn't it? Here we are again on another early morning. The kids are parked in front of the cartoons and not quite clamoring for breakfast yet. A few stolen minutes.

I think one reason that I haven't been posting as often is because I've added two new things to my life. One is exercise. I'd love to say it happens daily, but we're on track to make it 3 times for this week....IF I make it happen today and tomorrow. =) The second is a plethora of doctor visits. I've been to the doctor 6 times with the kids in the last month, none of which were well-care appointments.

It all started out with Spunky Girl getting a rash on her leg, which I basically ignored, and then it got infected. By the time I got her to the doctor, they were concerned it was MRSA and gave her tons of strong antibiotics. It wasn't MRSA, but it turned out then that she had an allergic reaction to one of the medicines, which resulted a body full of hives. So back to the doctor. It was about that time that the Big Guy came down with croup. And then shortly after that Spunky Girl ended up with a case of Vaginitis...probably another result of the strong antibiotics. Poor Girl. We just about get all those cleared up and the Big Guy falls of the kitchen chair and knocks his head on the wood floor. No big deal, right? Kids fall out of their chairs all the time (at least mine do). Well this time he managed to smack the floor just hard enough and just right to give himself a concussion.

The poor kid stopped talking for 45 minutes and kept trying to go to sleep, which freaked his mother out, so the doctor said we needed to take him to the Emergency Room for a Cat Scan. Turns out my Big Guy doesn't liked getting his head taped into a big Cat Scan machine. Wow, that was FUN! And, of course, when you finish spending your evening in the emergency room (with the other kids in tow because you husband is OF COURSE at the firehouse that night), they remind you to visit your doctor the next day to keep the medical care consistent. So there you have it...6 doctors visits...one month...and that doesn't even count the trip to the dentist to have the Big Guy's front two teeth pulled.

How does one have time to blog with all that going on?

I have to say, though, my overwhelming feeling about this last month is gratefulness. While I didn't enjoy spending the month in the doctor's office waiting room, I am so thankful to have medical care to rely on. There is such safety and security in asking a doctor what to do about something and following their advice. It takes away the worrying about whether I'm doing the right thing or not. I used to feel guilty about so many trips to the doctor, like I was abusing the priveledge or wasting their time. But then I didn't go a few times when I should have, and that didn't feel any better. So now I just call the nurse advice line and ask if I should come in or not. I enjoy my pediatrician so much, it feels like we are friends. This month, I think I've seen her more often than I saw my friends.

As the health care debate rages on, I think this is essentially what it comes down to. Is there a way to extend the kind of health care that I have access to to others without care, without making that healthcare so expensive or reduced services that it isn't worth having anymore. I don't know if there is a way to do that, but maybe I'll include that in my prayers tonight.

2 Year Old Woes

I took the Big Guy, my little boy, to the doctor for his 2 year old well-care appointment today.

My pediatrician, who I swear is the BEST pediatrician ever, asked me if he's been difficult lately? Ummm...lemme think. Yeah.

Yes, he's been a big ole pain in the butt lately. He cries ALL the time. He cries because he wants waffles and I'm serving cereal. He cries because I cut his muffin in half and he wants it whole. He cries because I say no. He cries because I refuse to hold him while I'm drying my hair. He CRIES.

I've tried to give the guy a little space. We've got a lot of chaos around here lately. A friend and her 2 year old little girl have moved in with us for a bit. He has to share his toys more than he's used to. He gets in trouble for hitting. But, he still has to cope. I don't know how to stop the crying (and I've tried everything), so I have to cope. So I do cope...and I wait for this phase to be over. So when the doctor asks "has he been difficult lately?" I had to stop and think. Is he difficult...Yeah, he's difficult.

"Well, maybe it is because he has a sinus infection" she answers.

...


How did I not know that? Because he's always been a cry baby; it has just been worse lately.

The doctor went on to check his private parts, like she always does. I commented to her, a little embarrassed, that there was a speck of something on his scrotum that I could not get off. I thought it was a bit of feces that was being stubborn, but I really scrubbed at it and it stayed there. "Well, that's because it is a mole" she responds. Wow. Could I be any more of an idiot today? It didn't occur to me that a mole starts out tiny, like a spec, and could just appear out of nowhere. Instead I just scrub my poor boy's scrotum trying to get it off...no wonder the boy cries.


I've been taking the Big Guy to swimming lessons twice a week. He cries every time the instructor touches him. It has been 6 weeks of lessons and the instructor has been accepting of his screams of protest, but I think she's getting tired of it. Today she asks me "Does Cade spend time with anyone else? Does anyone else ever take care of him?". I started to tell her that he occasionally is babysat by his aunt or grandmas...but I knew that wasn't really what she was asking. What she really wanted to know was whether Cade was a cry-baby in swimming class because he was unused to anyone else interacting with him (or commanding him around) except me. Somehow that makes me feel like I've ruined my kid by spending too much time with him. Well...I guess I'd rather ruin him by too much of my attention than by not enough.

Wouldn't it be nice if Cade stopped crying when his ear infection clears up? That would be amazing, but I'm not going to count on it. I think I'll just buy the swim instructor a set of ear plugs.