Archives for February 2006

It was a valiant fight for both sides, but the end has come. The germs have won the battle. I am sick.

The battle began last week when I started to feel a little sniffly. I took some (great stuff, folks) and it appeared to be the cavalry I needed to push back the germs. However, I got careless over the weekend, and didn’t keep taking the Emer’gen-C. The germs brought in reinforcements, with germ tanks and germ stealth bombers. Yesterday all was lost, and I succumbed to a horrible cold. The white flag is flying over my sinuses.

I should really count myself lucky. This year is nothing like Plague Fest, Winter 2005. This is my first cold since July, and other than one small stomach bug, my first illness of any kind since July.

Last year at this time, everyone in the house was sick. That’s the beauty of daycare – Cordy was 3 months old and started daycare at the beginning of January 2005. Exactly 10 days later, a perfect incubation period, all three of us came down with nasty, mucus-pumping colds. Just as we recovered from the colds, we were hit with a stomach flu. A week after that, more colds for everyone! Get the point? OK, I’ll stop listing each illness, although they are all detailed in her baby book.

Cordy served well as a plague-bearer, bringing home the virus of the week from the daycare to us. She learned sharing at such a young age, as she shared her illnesses with Aaron and I. To make a long story short slightly less long, there was a cold or stomach ick or ear infection affecting at least one of us from January to July 2005. You might think I’m exaggerating here, but alas, I’m not. It was one neverending sickness.

While I will give credit to the daycare for their efforts to keep everything sanitized, I will say that it is nearly impossible to keep a daycare germ-free. We took Cordy out of daycare in August, when my part-time work schedule stabilized. Since then, all three of us have been healthier.

However, it’s been so long since I had a cold, that I forgot how miserable it is. I feel ever so terribly not well.

Grocery shopping on a weekend is never a wise venture. But food was needed, and so off I went to pick up our necessities this afternoon. It’s been raining all day, and I wanted to get groceries before it changed into snow, when Ohio drivers lose all ability to control their cars,

I had no idea what I was getting myself into. First, the parking lot was packed. There were people waiting to take handicapped spaces. I should have turned back at this point, but for once a spot opened up for me very close to the entrance, so not wanting to turn down a parking gift from the gods, I took it.

Inside, it was chaos. Check-out lines stretching back into the aisles, aisles packed with people, screaming children, yelling adults. All of the carts available were soaking wet. I cut my list down to just the necessities, and tried to navigate upstream as best I could.

Once in the checkout line, I mentioned to the cashier, “Wow, this place is crazy today!”

“Well, yeah. Everyone is trying to get food for their parties.”

“Parties? I didn’t realize this was a big party weekend.”

“Uh, yeah. It’s Superbowl weekend. They’re getting food for Superbowl parties.”

“Ooooohhhhh.”

I may be the only idiot in the United States who didn’t realize it was Superbowl weekend. I felt like the biggest loser nerd walking out of the grocery. I wondered if there was a big neon sign over my head proclaiming “Geek! Likes science and literature, not sports!”

See, I guess I’m not your normal red-blooded American. I don’t care about football. I really don’t care about the Superbowl, either. Sure, if it’s on and nothing else is on, I’ll watch the commercials, but that’s about it.

It didn’t occur to me that people throw huge Superbowl parties. Most Americans go to big Superbowl and college bowl bashes, bet on the games and discuss the reputations of each team and its players.

Aaron and I, on the other hand, throw Oscar and Tony parties where we all bet on who will win each category and critique the fashion disasters on the red carpet.

Sometimes I feel like I belong somewhere else other than Midwestern America. I just don’t know where.

As each day goes by, I find I’m losing my sweet baby to an inquisitive, determined, strong-willed toddler. Cordelia now sees herself as her own being and, in her mind, she is ready to set out on new adventures. Well, at least for a few minutes, until mommy is out of view, and then she’s suddenly not so bold as she comes crying back to me.

Along with this new independence comes power struggles. I know many other mommy and daddy bloggers out there have gone through this, some many times over. So I apologize if this sounds silly, since most of you can tell me it’s going to get far worse.

I knew these power struggles were coming, and I have read all the books on what to do. But sometimes she does things that mystify me. Things that make me wonder just what is going on in that little head of hers, as she figures out the world around her. Let me give you one small example of what I’m going through:

The sippy cup. Yeah, the sippy cup. Who knew a struggle over a cup with a lid and a spout could be so strong?

Our first battle with the sippy cup involved simply getting her to try using one. Around a year old, she remained a hard-core bottle baby. I started with the Avent cups, since we were already using the Avent bottles. No go – she wasn’t even interested in trying it. So I tried a Gerber cup. Nope. The Nuby cup that everyone recommended as the perfect first cup? Not so much.

Soon I had a beautiful selection of nearly every brand of sippy cup offered by Babies R Us, all of which showed no sign of wear. At this point, Aaron was getting angry that we were wasting so much money on cups she would never use.

But then I found the holy grail of sippy cups: the cheap disposable sippy cups. I should have known she’d forgo the fancy valves and smooth ergonomic handles of the other cups for the plain Wal-Mart brand cups that come in a 4-pack for $3.99. She took to the cup right away, and we breathed a sigh of relief that our child would not be entering pre-school someday with a backpack full of bottles.

Best of all, that sippy cup was really just a gateway cup. After it, she was willing to use any other sippy cup we offered her, aside from straw cups. We still can’t get her to drink from straw cups yet. I was able to redeem myself with Aaron over all of the money spent on sippy cups.

However, the struggle doesn’t end there. Oh no, it gets far more ridiculous.

While she’s now been drinking from a sippy cup for about 4 months, she has one small quirk: she won’t hold the cup. We must hold the cup for her as she drinks. I’ve never felt more like a servant to her than when I’m holding her cup so she can sip as much as she likes. Yes, your highness, allow me to hold your cup for you to keep your dainty hands free from the rough plastic.

I’ve seen other moms complain that their tots will refuse milk from a sippy, or refuse to drink cold milk from a sippy. I find myself wishing for their problems. I know she understands the basic mechanics of the cup. She knows where to put her mouth, she knows how to suck out the liquid, and she knows that she must tilt the cup up. So why can’t she do this?

There are several solutions given in all of the advice books. I’ve tried not making a big deal about it. I’ve moved away from the cup, hoping that she would pick it up and drink it if I wasn’t near her. But no, she only picks the cup up and brings it to me so I can give her a drink!

All day long I’m smacked in the arm or leg with her sippy cup, as she then pushes it into my hands to offer her a drink. She can’t even be polite about it. We repeat “cup” every single time, but she always thrusts the cup at us with a loud, harsh “uuuunnggghhh!” Dr. Karp was right – I am living with a mini-caveman.

I’ve tried to move her hands onto the cup while she’s drinking, which results in her forcefully pulling her arms away and giving a squeal mid-drink, spraying me with juice.

So now, I turn to all of my readers (yes, all 8 of you). Am I doing something wrong? Is my child just lazy? Is this a normal phase of toddlerhood? How can I get her to hold her own damn cup?

And most importantly: if I can’t get over this hurdle, how in the world am I going to handle the more serious power struggles?

I’m really surprised just how many people out there are searching for tips on giving their toddlers Benadryl for travel. Let’s just say of all of the different Google searches that lead people here, that’s the #1 search, hands down.

I guess there are a lot of parents scared that their toddlers will be screaming monsters on vacation. It always makes me nervous to think others are taking advice from me. I feel an urge to end any bit of advice with: Remember, this is my crazy kid. Your mileage may vary.

So, to those searching, I give you this: the dose is usually 1 teaspoon, but always double-check. Also, please consider this as a last resort. It does work for many kids, making them drowsy and easier to deal with.

But, remember that a small percentage of kids go bouncing-off-the-walls-head-spinning-peasoup-spitting-Exorcist-hyperactive on Benadryl. Mine was one of them. Do you really want to play that parenting Russian roulette game and risk making it even worse?

In other news, Aaron had an interview today. Cross your fingers, folks. If he gets this job, he could be forced to go on a cruise each year for work, and his family are welcome to come along.

Oh, darn.