Yesterday morning E lost a tooth, his third. We put it in a baggie and I told him he could put it under his pillow for the tooth fairy that night.
Normally our weekday evenings are pretty routine but last night I took a friend out to dinner to celebrate her birthday and then when I got home N and I spent time picking what movies we wanted to see at the Sundance film festival so I ended going to bed a little later than normal.
And N and I totally forgot about the tooth fairy.
I didn’t realize our mistake until the first thing E did when he woke up was reach under his pillow and pull out the baggie with his tooth in it. I felt horrible.
Trying to salvage the situation I snuck into our room, grabbed the gold dollar coin I had set aside earlier, and went back to E’s room and slipped it under his pillow. Then I suggested E double check under his pillow. Lo and behold!
After he found the coin I nonchalantly suggested that the tooth fairy must have dropped the tooth or forgotten to take it but that she must have realized her mistake and would come back for it tonight. E was so excited about his dollar that he seemed unfazed about the tooth fairy missing out on her end of the bargain.
Yesterday was an EPIC FAIL, parenting wise.
I had gotten the kids ready to get in the car when I remembered I wanted to grab a cd. Mimi was happily playing with a drawer of Tupperware lids so I dashed down the 5 stairs to our family room. I was grabbing the cd from the shelf when I hear Mimi’s little knees crawling across the floor towards the stairs. I turned just in time to catch her as she starts tumbling down the stairs, but a second too late to stop her from bonking her head on the corner of the banister.
It doesn’t look that bad in the photo but she immediately got a huge goose egg which freaked me out. I used my cell to have a video call with N so he could weigh in on whether I should take her to the doctor but Mimi was fine after she calmed down; no signs of a concussion.
Then later that afternoon Mimi was playing in the Tupperware drawer again while I tidied up the kitchen. I turned my back for ten seconds and she got into the dishwasher packets under the sink. And bit into one. I rinsed out her mouth and gave her some water and called Poison Control who said she would be fine, which she was.
I felt TERRIBLE, like the biggest failure ever–I didn’t keep my baby safe.
If there’s a positive side to this it’s that it has inspired me to buckle down and get the rest of the cabinets painted and put back together so I can put baby locks on all of them. Gah.
So this heartbreaking story is big news around here. Yesterday I was busy making some treats for a Superbowl party we were going to (suck it, Patriots!) and heard about it from N when he came home from counting the tithing at church.
Unfortunately we didn’t realize that E could overhear us talking and so we ended up with a distraught little boy who kept asking us “Why did the kids blow up? Was there a bomb in their house?”
I was baffled and didn’t know what to say. N and I had one of those silent exchanges of meaningful glances and then commenced to flat out lied to E that no, the kids did not blow up and that everything was okay. And then we went on to assure him that our house was very safe and didn’t have any bombs in it.
And then we went over to our friend’s house where E ate treats and played games and then forgot about the whole thing. But I’m still thinking about it today.
E has a way of keeping me humble. Just when I start to get a bit smug that I have this parenting thing figured out fairly well something happens to deflate my ego like a sad balloon.
E still has the last bits of a insistent cold and was sort of tired yesterday. He took a long nap but even then I had to go in and wake him up so we could go to see Yo Gabba Gabba live. N had had a crazy day at work but he managed to leave the office a couple hours early so we could make it on time.
When we got to the arena E loved looking around and seeing all the kids and the Yo Gabba Gabba stuff. And then the show started.
At first he was intrigued and even had fun dancing around to the songs. But then they shot confetti into the audience and cranked up the volume and suddenly it was TOO MUCH. E started whimpering and then full-on crying to go home. N took him out into the hall to calm down and would bring him back into the arena where he was alternatively fascinated and terrified. After about twenty minutes or so he was still asking to go to the car.
So we gave up and left the arena. As soon as we walked outside E started crying again and asking to go back to the show.
The drive home was lame. I was frustrated and sad, N was frustrated and grumpy, and E was frustrated and tired.
In hindsight, I obviously shouldn’t have bought the tickets. They weren’t cheap and I spent basically all of E’s birthday budget on them. I thought he would like it–there were kids much younger than him there happily bopping around in their seats. Maybe having some sort of ear protectors would have helped? The show was really loud. Eh, I don’t know.
But the whole experienced emphasized that I need to let go when it comes to wanting to have Kodak-moment-type family experiences. For instance, I thought this would be a special experience the three of us could enjoy before the baby comes. I get sucked into “the idea” of things very easily. Sometimes I struggle with walking the line between not wanting to deny E experiences he would enjoy and having a realistic idea of what he would actually enjoy and what’s worth the hassle and money.
Not much is going on here. E has come down with his second stomach bug in as many weeks. He threw up again last Saturday and since then has been running a fever which means I’ve been stuck in sick-baby jail on and off for almost two weeks now. I’m starting to get a bit stir crazy and my patience, while never that of a saint, is wearing thin. On Sunday I lost my temper at E’s constant whining and yelled at him to “stop whining!” (Mother-of-the-year!) Predictably enough, yelling did not work to make either E or myself feel better. I felt horrible about losing my temper with poor sick pitiful E.
But when E’s sitting on my lap and resting his feverish little head against my cheek all I think about is how much I love him and how grateful I am to be blessed with the resources and ability to take care of him and protect him from harm.
I almost forgot to post today. I’ve been in a bit of a funk since this morning when, carrying E, I slipped on the ice outside of his daycare and fell. My right knee and elbow took the blunt of the fall but poor E fell on his back and bonked his head lightly. It freaked him out quite a bit and upset me too. I felt horrible about dropping E (mother-of-the-year!) and then really embarrassed since my graceful landing was witnessed by several people who then kept asking if I was all right. Le sigh.
Also, E ate a chicken nugget at daycare that contained something he was allergic to and so when I came to pick him up the skin around one of his eyes was red and covered with little hives. But on the plus side, he was still having fun playing with the toys and didn’t want to leave. I gave him a teaspoon of Benadryl right away and in about an hour and after a bath he was back to normal. When I had dropped him off I had asked the cook to check the ingredients of the nuggets for milk and eggs so I’m not quite sure where the breakdown occurred, but obviously something went wrong. The next time I drop him off I’m going to bring a bag of E-safe chicken nuggets for the daycare to keep in their freezer and feed to E if there’s any doubt about the food they’re serving that day in the future.
I know it’s wasn’t like anything super traumatic or even horrible happened today but I still feel like I’ve been put through a wringer. (Because I am a delicate flower like that.) So it’s nice that I have an outing scheduled with some girlfriends tonight for dinner and some Christmas shopping. I’m still a little concerned about E’s reaction. If E was going to be left with a sitter I would probably cancel but since N will be home so I can go out without feeling burdened by worry.
Now I just have to go clean my house like mad before my friends show up.
After much thought and discussion we’ve decided to send E to a daycare/preschool for two mornings a week. The main reasons behind my decision are 1) my work has really ramped up lately and I sometimes need to go into the office for meetings or spend a few hours at a time on my reports 2) E enjoys socializing with other kids and as an only child doesn’t get many chances to do so 3) the daycare I found comes highly recommended by a friend; it’s run by Kids on the Move (the county’s child occupational therapy program) and has a strong focus on activities (they don’t even have a tv).
Even though I feel that this is a good choice for E and our family, I’ve agonized over the decision. In general I’m not one for hand-wringing, but I do feel a bit guilty. I really enjoy being a mother but I like working too. I’m pretty good at what I do, I feel appreciated by my team at work, and the extra money is nice. And most of the time I’m able to manage watching E and working at the same time quite well (i.e. I usually work when he naps.)
But I have to admit that on the occasions when work gets really crazy E spends entirely too much time watching tv, sometimes several hours a morning. I think that sending him to daycare for a few hours a week is preferable to that. I’d rather get him on a routine where he can go and hang out with other kids and I can take care of my work at the same time. Then on the days he’s home I’ll have more time to focus on doing fun stuff with him.
While I feel like I’m making a good choice I have to admit that I’m a little apprehensive about being judged by other moms. Not many mothers with young children in my neighborhood work. I can’t think of anyone else who only has one kid and who sends them to daycare. I know I shouldn’t let it bother me but I feel a vague unease when I wonder how other people will perceive my actions.
Having said all that, the most important thing to me is that E does well. I truthfully think he will like it but if he has issues or doesn’t thrive I can take him out and figure something else out.
Even though I’ve lived in Utah for a number of years now I was still surprised when we got three inches of snow earlier this week. (Bleh.) Last year E was too small to really care about the snow but this week he was excited to go outside and explore.
E’s plucky, can-do attitude lasted all of about 30 seconds…
…or the amount of time it took him to trip and plant his hands in the frozen snow.
(I know, I know–he needs mittens and a new coat. But cut me some slack; I had naively thought I had until November to get them.)
This morning E asked for a drink as soon as he got up. So I went and got him a cup of juice (he still won’t drink soy milk but his doctor said it’s find as long as he takes a calcium/vitamin D vitamin). We went back upstairs to N’s and my bedroom to hang out while N got ready for work.
I don’t remember what set him off, but E shouted something and threw his sippy cup on the floor–which is definitely not allowed. So N and I asked him to say “sorry.” E wiggled and squirmed and flirted and danced around the room, doing everything he could to avoid saying sorry. We talked about how we shouldn’t throw cups on the floor. We took turns telling him he could get his juice back as soon as he said sorry but nothing seemed to work. This went on for about ten minutes.
Then a bolt of inspiration struck and N asked if maybe E had trouble saying the word “sorry.” E does pretty well with some two-syllable words but even then he sometimes drops their initial consonants. So I asked E to say “ree” and he did so immediately.
I handed him his juice and he ran around the room giggling. I felt like a bit of a dolt. Here we thought E was just being stubborn and refusing to apologize when we were asking him to do something he was incapable of doing. E sometimes seems like such a big kid when he’s being sassy or following instructions. But I need to keep in mind that he’s not even two yet.
I had been wanting to take E to the local pool for a while now. I decided to take him yesterday because school gets out today and I figured it would be better to go when it wasn’t super crowded–you know, in case he freaked out. Which he did.
I honestly thought he would really like it. E loves taking baths. Anytime I turn on the water in the laundry sink that we use for his baths (it is super deep so he still fits) he runs into the room and hopefully starts tossing his bath toys into the sink. When he realizes that no, we aren’t taking a bath right now, he usually has a mini tantrum.
Anyway, the whole experience started out poorly. E was totally freaked out by the swim diaper. He did not want to wear it and kept trying to take it off. I changed him at home because E hates public restrooms (he is afraid of loud toilets) and so I figured the less time spent in the locker room the better. But, novice that I am, I forgot that swim diapers don’t really absorb anything: they’re just there to catch poop. So when we’re walking through the lobby and E slips and trips on some water on the floor I was first annoyed at someone having split something and not having cleaned it up but then very quickly the annoyance turned to embarrassment as I realized that E had probably um, made the water himself. But they were very nice about it. (Lesson learned–change into swim diaper at the pool.)
E was fascinated by the pool and the people in it but the fascination quickly turned to horror when it became apparent that, surprise, surprise, we were going in the water. The pool includes a little toddler section where the water’s only 6-12 inches deep and there are two small water slides. My friend Kristin and her little boy were meeting us at the pool and were already in the water when we arrived. As soon as I carried E into the water he started freaking out. He was terrified. When I sat down in the water he scrambled around in my lap trying to climb up me so the water wouldn’t touch any part of him. I was seriously thinking that we might have to leave. But little by little we splashed around and he got more and more comfortable in the water. After 15 minutes or so he was okay sitting in the water by himself and even going down the water slide on his stomach.
We ended up staying for about an hour and a half and E cried and cried when we left. I loved swimming when I was a kid and I’d like him to be comfortable in the water so I think I’m going to try and take him to the pool maybe once every other week or so. Hopefully next time we’ll skip all the histrionics and go right to the fun part.