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Party Pooper
It dawned on me after my last post that some of you might not understand why I think balloon animals are in the same category as air rifles when it comes to kids’ health and safety. Well, I’ll be happy to explain. No, it’s isn’t because you would rather shoot yourself in the eye than try to twist a slippery piece of latex into a flamingo. And no, it’s also not because you want to shoot the kid who pops a balloon and scares the life out of you at the park. (OK, I wouldn’t seriously want to harm a child for being his developmentally appropriate, naturally exuberant self, but it takes years off my life.) Anyway, it’s for another reason. But rather than lecture you, I’ll tell you a story.
A couple weeks back we took the girls to lunch. Now that they eat everything (and I am including liverwurst—with a spoon!—at that!), my husband and I take great delight in seeing what they think of our Saturday brunches. We chose a restaurant that is known for being particularly child-friendly and picked a nice spot where our stroller wouldn’t obstruct the exit. (Because I’m fire conscious as well). A few minutes after we were seated, the manager came by. “Oh, what cute little girls! Can I get you some balloons?” she asked, winking at me and getting ready to be thanked profusely.
“Did you know that latex balloons are one of the top ten fatal choking hazards for young children?” I exclaimed in horror, also getting ready to be praised for being both safety-conscious and informative.
Needless to say, the manager looked at me like I had just stolen a bag of candy from one of the 25 kids in the joint, stepping on another 3 while returning to my seat. Apparently she didn’t want to know that her restaurant was passing out potentially lethal playthings to their customers. And obviously I am the biggest party pooper to ever live.
Well, that may be true. But until my children understand that you don’t bite or suck on a balloon, lest one of their very sharp little teeth cause it to pop and send a piece of latex deep into their airway where I can’t get to it, they can settle for a box of crayons. Sorry girls. Mommy’s mean.
p.s. Friends! I have improved my technology and you can now “Follow” me more easily with links to Twitter, Facebook and Google. If you do that, I promise to work hard at improved posts, better tweeting and all around availability. Thank you so much for all the support thus far.
The More The Merrier!
The girls had their first play date last weekend. It was actually more of a “family date,” with both sets of parents eager to see if we got along as well as the kids. That’s the way it is when you have children, isn’t it? You put a moratorium on making new friends who are single because you just don’t have the time. And then you try to find other families to hang out with who share at least some of your values and parenting style. Otherwise it can make for a really awkward afternoon. (Could you imagine me at a play date with a family who refuses vaccinations?! Seriously.)
Anyway, to my delight, the date was a success. Fips’ Mom didn’t mind when Zoe pulled out her little friend’s binky and put it in her own mouth. (She said, “Baby germs are very clean.”) I was really worried about how the girls would react to a new person inspecting their toys, but it wasn’t an issue. The three of them even explored the kitchen together before making a new game of standing up, letting go and falling down, which they all though was hilarious. (Fips just learned to stand alone the day before so I think Eva was humoring her.) And they happily shared an entire pint of strawberries.
So why is Dr. Zibners telling you about Mommy’s fabulous social life? It’s for a couple of reasons. Firstly, don’t feel bad about choosing to spend time with people who share similar approaches to parenting and exclude those who criticize “your way” or who have beliefs that could jeopardize your child’s health. (I’m thinking specifically of firearms in the home and immunizations but I suppose an obsession with latex balloon animals would also qualify). Secondly, know that kids go through phases. Maybe today they love Fips but should personalities conflict or any one of them is going through a stage that makes playing together stressful, then we’ll have to back off and avoid those situations for a while. Oh gee, wasn’t it just so much easier when they just lay on a cushion and stared at ceiling fans?
Keeping Up With The Jones
A child who speaks 2 or 3 words besides “mama” and “dada,” who can drink from a cup, is able to put one cube after another into a basket, shows interest when shown single pictures, and can take a few steps independently is what age?
Okay, so every few years I have to do recertify my board exams for both pediatrics and pediatric emergency medicine and this involves a certain number of hours spent on “educational” topics. Today I was working on a “development and milestones” unit. When I was in training everyone always said that you never really learn “development” until you have your own kids. What I mean by this is that you can memorize all these little charts about when a kid loses a reflex or sits unsupported, but it won’t really “stick” until you see your own kid do it. Which I’ve found to be sort of true. I can think back now to when Eva and Zoe started smiling or scooting or crawling and have a rough idea of what age goes with what collection of accomplishments. Then again, because the two of them are so close in age, it often all blurs together and gets muddy.
But I’ve decided this is a good thing. Because otherwise I’d spend a lot of time upset. Like when I read the above paragraph during my studying. The answer is, “12 months.” Really? Well that’s unfortunate because Eva is almost 15 and Zoe turns 1 in less than 2 weeks. And what are they up to?
Well, Eva has started to say a couple words. Like, “mama” and “papa” and maybe one other. Zoe just yells random sounds. They can drink from cups but yippee. They are very good at taking cubes out of baskets, but the only thing they put into anything is food into my water glass in a restaurant. When we try to read a book, they pull it out of my hands, shut it and use it to hit one another on the head. No one is walking independently. Eva has taken a sum total of 8 steps without support but never more than 2 at a time and she cries (out of fear? Resentment?) the whole time. Zoe, 1 step. On 2 occasions.
In other words, “milestones” are a great way of judging how your kid is developing and when her development seems several months behind the majority of other children, it’s worth speaking to your pediatrician. On the other hand, these lists of social, language and motor skills and estimations and the reality is that children vary widely in their individual achievements. Which means you can’t get too worked up when your little one doesn’t meet every single skill at her anticipated age. After all, Eva is more than happy to find me a banana when asked and will feed it to me piece by piece and Zoe has figured out how to climb up the back of the sofa and onto the television cabinet (heart attack), so I think they are doing okay. Stupid book. Upsetting Mommy like that.
Happy New Year!
Yes, I’m still alive. I must apologize for the silence. It has been an adventure. Let me share. Where were we? Oh yeah, roseola in one kid. Followed by a second child. But we still made it to see Santa. Then there were our flu shots, although it was only me and Zoe since Eva can’t have hers for a few more weeks. And then we were off on vacation! True to form, by the time we’d landed in Italy, Eva had a fever. She started wheezing a day or so later. Bronchiolitis. Revisited.
For those of you who pay attention and memorize my every word (ha, I know that is exactly no one!), bronchiolitis is a viral inflammation of the small airways in the lungs in kids under 2. It is a virus and can’t be treated with antibiotics. Also, it generally doesn’t respond to any of the wheezing medicines that we give kids with asthma since the reason for the wheeze is swelling and snot, not hyper-reactive airways. But even for me, this point is a hard one to drive home. In the ER, most of us find that we will try treating the kids who show up in November, at the beginning of bronchiolitis season, and by February we’re so sick of wheezing children we can’t help, that we just don’t bother. The same thing apparently holds true at my own house.
We were on holiday with my entire family, most of whom have an inhaler. We’re a sickly bunch. Anyway, with Eva wheezing her head off, refusing to eat and coughing to the point of puking, it was a real battle to continually argue the difference between bronchiolitis and asthma. After all, both cause wheezing and for a clan of asthmatics, it seems absolutely negligent to not at least try to help her out. So I caved. We fashioned a little mask out of a styrofoam cup and put my inhaler (albuterol) in a hole at the end. I gave her two little puffs over a couple minutes, with the cup firmly sealed to her face. (And with at least 2 other well-meaning family members holding down the rest of her body!)
I’m not convinced that it did any good. My family thought otherwise. It’s hard to say. My gut says that it was the adrenaline rush from the fight that helped ease her breathing for a bit. Now it is always possible that a child actually has a bit of asthma underlying a bronchiolitis infection and therefore asthma medicines might help. For instance, if I see a baby with bronchiolitis and the whole family has asthma, that might be a child who would benefit from medication. But most kids just won’t. Of course, if she had been really working to breathe, turning blue or unable to drink enough to stay hydrated, we would have been at the hospital. Instead she was just annoying, hacking her head off all day and night.
Anyway, about 3 days later Zoe started wheezing. I didn’t even bother with the inhaler on that kid. She was like my February. It’s bronchiolitis. I can’t fight it. I’ll never win. It’s a few days of fever and misery, then just a horrid hacking cough that will probably last for weeks. Time to cry, “Uncle.”
But now everyone is once again back to normal, with runny noses of course, but full of energy and enjoying all our new Christmas toys. Which gives me time to wish all of you a very Happy New Year. May 2011 bring you much joy, health and happiness.
From Gymbo to Jabs
Poor Eva and Zoe have had a horrible couple of weeks. First came shots, as you know. Zoe got her last hepatitis B and Prevnar. Eva was varicella (chicken pox) and Prevnar. Seems like these kids are constantly getting needle pokes. With the international move and slightly different vaccine components, confusing and different shot schedules and the occasional baby mix-up (Oh, that was Zoe, I mean Eva. I mean Zoe. Did you give her Eva’s shots?) they are quite immunized. I am not remotely concerned about the number of shots they’ve gotten for multiple reasons, including the fact that they are actually receiving fewer different vaccination components today than they would have, say, 20 years ago. And I like my children and I ‘d prefer to keep them, and their friends, healthy.
Enough on that. After the shots came roseola. I wasn’t sure Zoe was even going to get it but sure enough, 5 days after Eva’s rash, she spiked a temperature. This time, rather than worry, I knew what was going on. So we scheduled Christmas photos for Saturday, guessing that her rash would arrive early Sunday. (Yes, it did.)
And then there was today. Poor kids thought it was going to be a good one. Pancakes for breakfast and then we were off to Gymboree. But as soon as we’d kissed Gymbo bye-bye (and Zoe plants a proper, rather age-inappropriate kiss on that doll every week), it was off to the pediatrician. Mommy is a moron and completely forgot the flu shots when we were there two weeks ago. So we had to go back.
But here a stroke of luck hit Eva. Her doctor and I looked at each other and realized that she couldn’t get a flu shot today. After a live virus vaccine, such as varicella, you must wait several weeks before giving another shot against another virus. Just one of those “oh so careful Doctor things” you shouldn’t worry about but we like to play it safe. So while she crawled off to play with something germy and dirty (it is a doctor’s office), Zoe dropped her drawers and took it like a brave little soldier. And then her Mommy pulled up her sleeve and took Eva’s shot for her. Because her next line of defense is the people she’s around. And nothing says, “I love you,” like not giving someone influenza. Hey, just in case you were wondering what to get your family for Christmas, there’s an idea!
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