Still Sick

Day 2. Head cold still holding strong. Can't taste coffee. Can't taste what I believe was curdled cream in coffee. Gonna be a good day.

Yeah, Neomom's still in Dauphin. She's struggling with the same head cold, but she's a day or two ahead of me. I can't wait until she starts to feel better. It will turn on the light at the end of my tunnel. 

The boys are behaving fairly well so far. Probably the fear of poking the angry, sick bear that is hiding in the basement. Whatever works.

So, on top of the snot fest that has invaded my face, and the fact that I'm single parenting for a week, it's I Love to Read Week at Sonwun's school. And that means, in my Nyquil-hazed, tasteless, hearing-impaired state, I must remember the daily activities associated with this little festival, and remember to prepare Sonwun each morning.

Last night, we filled out the Valentine's Day cards. And if I wasn't so tired, I'd rant on about getting children started on their Hallmark-inspired addiction to meaningless paper sentiment. ("Swinging By With A Valentine Hi!" *picture of Spiderman*) But I am too tired.

I think they're also going on a hayride today, weather permitting. (Short pause and sound of Dad checking weather) And the forecast says +3 today. Looks like the hayride's a go. I think they said they'd have to call it off it the temp hit -27C. Good to have standards.

Oh, that reminds me. He's supposed to wear red today. Note to self. Find red stuff.

Well, 6:06 a.m. and Sontoo is up. 

"You know what I want to do this day Daddy?"

"No."

"I wanna go on a roller coaster ride."

What a sense of humour this kid has.

Well, that means I gotta start the day. Gonna be another long one.

Happy Valentine's Day.

Snork

So, Neomom took off yesterday. Five days in Dauphin for some training course thingy.

But she left us a little gift on the way out: a lovely head cold . . . for all of us to share. 

So far, I'm the only one enjoying the free-flowing phlegm, plugged ears, desire to sleep for 10 years and dead taste buds. And I'm hoping it stays that way. Not the disease, the fact that I'm the only one with it.

Last night I fed the boys leftover spaghetti, made with my hydroponic basil and oregano!! I wanted to make myself a nice cucumber, tomato, red onion salad with more of my basil. But I would have had to empty the dishwasher, and cut stuff up, and pour stuff in. Too much work for something I wouldn't taste anyway. Maybe today if all goes well. 

I do love this salad. I throw in a little olive oil and rice wine vinegar, salt, pepper . . . good to go. Delicious! When you can taste it.

Anyhoo, not motivated much this morning. To write, or to do much beyond fall on the couch. So I'm gonna keep it short. Must stock up on hot dogs and Kraft Dinner. Boys won't eat much beyond that anyway. Maybe some bananas and apples, for the vitamins. And maybe some chicken wings. The boys don't like them, but when you've got a head cold, there's nothing like hot sauce to clear things up.

Have a great Monday. 

Emergency!

Another day, another 5:45 a.m. wake-up call from the minions. Ugh.

It's a little extra special when the first words they speak are: "Daddy, emergency! You gotta come see what the cat did in the closet."

Now, I know my minions and what I can generally expect when they use the term "emergency."

It falls below house fire on the dire spectrum, but above cat puke on floor. It often involves a significant spill, or something cherished by Neomom being broken.

So I don't run up the stairs. I take my time, grab a towel in the kitchen and follow the minions to their bedroom. Inside the closet, somehow, the humidifier on the floor had fallen over. Relax, it was not plugged in. But water was working its way across the floor and under Sonwun's bed. A few quick wipes and the emergency was resolved.

I'm not sure how, or if, the cat was involved. But it's too early to play detective. It spilled, it's cleaned up, time to move on.

So, earache update. Got a call from the school yesterday at 2:20 . . . shortly following afternoon recess. The school secretary told me that Sonwun was in the office "in a lot of pain" and I needed to come and get him.

This is a first for me. And, of course, I imagined my poor son, crying and wailing in the school office, embarrassed in front of his friends. I imagined the look of derision I would get from the secretary for being such a horrible parent.

I grabbed the grape-flavoured ibuprofen off the counter, hoping to ease his pain as soon as humanly possible and checked to make sure I had the prescription for amoxicillin. If only I'd given it to him on Day 1, fought this thing for him instead of letting his little body build antibodies for the future. What kind of parent was I??

At the school, I steeled myself for the horrors that lay ahead. As I got out of the manly minivan in the parking lot, I stopped to listen, to see if his wailing had penetrated the brick walls. Didn't hear anything.

I quick-walk/jogged to the school and opened the outer door and . . .

"Hi Dad!" he chirped. "Let's go!"

Um . . . no tears, no whining, not so much as a pained expression - at least not on HIS face.

Now, I don't doubt there was some discomfort. He'd had medicine at 8:30 a.m. But the timing and the level of discomfort make me wonder. I don't believe for a second that he was "in a lot of pain."

Bottom line is I brought him home, gave him a little more ibuprofen and am still monitoring the situation. He got another dose last night before bed and he slept through the night until this morning's "emergency."

He didn't touch or complain about his ear until I asked if he felt like going to school this morning. Then I got a little show and some obligatory, though unconvincing, whining.

I'm going to err on the side of caution today, and keep him home for a long weekend to fully recover. I do believe it's almost done and I think I've done the right thing as far as the antibiotics go.

Time will tell.

Have a great Friday!

New Plan

Well, happy Monday!

I had big plans for this week, huge plans. Plans that would have been so very, very, very much fun. But some other bugger won the $40 million Lotto 649 jackpot, so I must once again put my big plans on hold.

So, new kid at playgroup. Turns out he's a friend of Sonwun from preschool and Sonwun was very excited to see him at playgroup. And I, therefore, was excited for him, ever so briefly.

The other kid? Let's call him, oh, I don't know, Fire.

And let's call Sonwun, um, Gasoline.

Now let's be clear. I have no delusions about my son. He's no angel. But, like gasoline, he's not too dangerous when properly controlled and contained. However, just below the surface he's a cauldron of potential energy just waiting to be ignited.

Enter Fire. Fire is, by nature, destructive. Left unattended, it grows and grows, consuming all in its path. And when it finds a can of gas . . .

Is that the karma train I'm hearing? Somewhere, some parent is blogging about Pit, my son, the Psycho in Training. Someone who has witnessed Fire and Gasoline careening about the bouncy house at playgroup with reckless disregard for their flying feet and the two-year-olds around them. Someone who watched the deadly duo take over the plastic playhouse and forbid entry to others. Someone whose readers are wondering, where is the parent?

Well, I'm there. And I'm doing my best to stay on top of the mayhem. But with the addition of fire, gasoline is occupying almost all of my time at playgroup, leaving little for the ever-clingy Sontoo.

My little gas can is still only 4. But I guess it's an opportunity to impart as many little life lessons as his little brain will absorb. Lessons about not following the crowd, about including others, about why flying tackles and headlocks are not generally welcome by strangers.

Anyhoo, that's my challenge in the coming weeks.

As for this week, instead of shopping for a nice condo in Whistler Village with my lottery winnings, I will be washing the vomit out of Sonwun's bedding, as this morning at 2, he woke up with a bad stomach. He's still asleep now, at 6:35 a.m., and here's hoping he feels better when he wakes up.

Neomom left half an hour ago for the airport and will be in Winnipeg for two days for court. Could be a long day.

In any case, have a great Monday, and a great week!

The Gift that Keeps on Giving

The good news is that Sontoo's tummy troubles were apparently of the 24-hour variety. So yesterday, he did not throw up once.

Neomom, on the other hand, got her turn. So she was home all day yesterday.

And again, the good news is that she's feeling much better today and has returned to work.

The bad news is that today is my turn. Feel like crap. So, very short post.

See you tomorrow, hopefully.

Get Up, Dress Up, Show Up

I feel like crap today.

I've been fighting some kind of cold thing for about a week and it feels like I'm now losing the battle.

Yesterday was a busy one. Second flu shot for Sontoo at 8 a.m. And I don't mean to complain (or maybe I do) but if you advertise a flu shot clinic beginning at 8 a.m., I think all of your people should be there by 7:30 setting up. That way, when your clients arrive at 8 a.m., you're ready. You're not trying to figure out the damn computer program or how to fill out the paperwork. Those giving the shots are seated and ready to go, not sitting there, filling syringes while the line of crusty toddlers gets longer and longer.

This clinic was for the second dose of the H1N1 vaccine. And that means all of the clients were between the ages of six months and three years. These are not patient patients. And odds are they brought along a parent and at least one sibling who was not old enough for school. That's a lot of impatient children and frustrated parents in a very small room, all anxious to get this over and done with.

I'm not saying anyone had to come in early, or that the Health System had to pay any overtime. I'm just saying, be ready. If that means starting at 8:30 instead of 8, so be it.

I guess I shouldn't complain too much, as we were out of there within an hour and 10 minutes. I know elsewhere in the country, people were waiting hours and hours for their shots. But I'm just saying that, with a little better organization and pre-planning, it could have gone a lot smoother.

Oh, and a quick note to some of the parents. Remember that little card they gave you at the first dose clinic? The one they told you to bring to the second clinic? The one with the date of the first dose, the child's birthdate and Manitoba Health number? BRING IT TO THE SECOND CLINIC YOU MORONS. That way I don't have to stand there for 10 minutes while you figure out when, exactly, your kids got their first shot and if that is at least 21 days ago. And I won't have to stand there for another 10 while you dig through your frickin' purse for the Manitoba Health cards.

There, that one's for the clinic workers who, I'm sure, had to put up with more than their share of impatient parents and screaming children. Must have been a rough day. But if you'd prepared a little better . . . just saying.

Anyway, after a quick stop at Tim Horton's for Daddy's cup of joy, we were off to playgroup. That went well. I'm getting to know more of the moms and am actually getting in on some of the non-breast-related conversations. Picked up a few Christmas shopping tips from those that have lived on this isolated iceberg for a few years. It was nice.

So, with my head clogged to capacity, we headed home for lunch and nap time. That's when I found the email from Neomom. She'd been called north to a crime scene and would not be home for lunch, and probably supper, possibly bed time. Ugh.

Oh well, got the boys fed and off to bed for their naps. I needed to sleep, but was afraid to. Sonwun's swimming lessons were at 4 and I had to be sure I wouldn't sleep through. So I stayed up.

Swimming lessons went well and, after phoning home and finding no one there yet, the boys and I stopped at McDonalds to pick up a couple of Happy Meals, as Daddy did not feel like cooking a damn thing. I did, this time, opt for the apples over the french fries and milk over coke. I know, it ain't Father of the Year material, but it's slightly better than the alternatives.

I managed to get them fed and to bed before taking my Tylenol night time sinus medication and passing out on the couch. Neomom woke me up and some point, there was some conversation and then I went to bed. I don't remember much of it as I was half asleep and in a well-medicated daze.

As I mentioned earlier, I still feel like crap today. But the refrigerator is empty and that means I must go shopping with the boys this morning. My challenge is to find a way to make it appealing, somehow, for Sonwun. He hates grocery shopping and the feeling, if left unattended, can be contagious.

Yesterday I received an email from my mother-in-law listing 44 life lessons, compiled by an 80-something-year-old woman. Some smarmy, but most really good stuff. Today, I must remember #36: "Your children get only one childhood," and #42: "No matter how you feel, get up, dress up and show up."

Have a great day!

This morning, a self-portait. Getting the blog done is step one

in the get up, dress up and show up plan.

Date Night at Last . . .

I almost put Crisco on Sontoo's little bottom. So desperate was I to put an end to one of the most nasty cases of diaper rash I have ever encountered.

It was going to be that or Bag Balm, a cow udder treatment that was recommended on one of the sites I searched for solutions.

This all began Sunday, a long-overdue date night, for Neomom and I. We had it all planned out and had even hired a babysitter in this new city; a daunting task. But we have not been out together, alone, for so long. We were looking forward to a nice dinner, followed by drinks at a local sports bar. No, it's not the perfect evening out, but it's the best Thompson has to offer. And it isn't about where. It's about with whom.

So Neomom spoke to a few colleagues and found one had a 15-year-old daughter who did the babysitting thing. We called, she was free Sunday night and the plan was coming together.

Until Sunday morning.

Sonwun fired the first volley at our plans. His tummy troubles took the northern route. He opened with an early-morning regurgitative redecoration of his pajamas, my pants, the couch and the floor. That was soon followed by a fever and our Sunday night plans were fading fast.

Sontoo put the final nail in our date-night coffin, but his tummy troubles took the southern route. Solid poop became a thing of the past and the poor little guy's bottom took the brunt of it. His tushy turned bright red and then developed open wounds as the liquid waste burned at his bottom. We tried to keep up with the changes, but any amount of time in a dirty diaper was too much.

As time on the change table became a painful, screaming battle, I was desperate for a solution. While Neomom pulled out the baby books, I hit the internet. And yes, among the proposed solutions, was Crisco (not the oil, the lard), Bag Balm and a combination of vaseline and Mylanta heartburn medication. The theory for the latter, of course, being that it would combat the acid in his poop and, hopefully, turn that little bottom back to it's normal colour.

As I read story after story of diaper-rash-related diarrhea (I used to read novels . . . sigh) it occurred to me that one of the common themes was coverage, sealant; keeping the nasties away from that precious posterior. The other most common theme was that, no matter what you tried, the problem wouldn't be entirely solved until the tummy troubles disappeared.

So, after considering Crisco and Bag Balm for a few minutes, I decided it was just best to use the available weapons, Desitin and Vaseline, and just bomb the hell out of the war zone with each diaper change. At the same time, I attacked on the northern front, offering foods I hoped would tighten things up; cheese, oatmeal, bread and less fruit for a little while.

This morning, it seems the tide has turned. Sonwun's fever is gone and Sontoo's little bottom is showing tremendous improvement. Yes, we lost the date-night battle, but we are winning the diaper rash war. And in the end (haha) that's what really counts.

Sharing, Taking Turns

Well, isn't Playgroup the gift that keeps on giving.

On Wednesday, Playgroup gave Sontoo a fat lip. I think I mentioned that. He was climbing the stairs on the little slide, slipped and smashed his little mouth on the steps.

Apparently angry over the incident and his newly acquired facial feature, he head-butted me that evening, right in the mouth. So now I've got a fat lip. What is with kids at 18 months? Why must they head-butt everyone and everything? And why the sucker punch aspect? You're holding this darling blue-eyed child, he's smiling, you're smiling . . . and then WHACK!

I'm getting better at seeing them coming, but he still gets one through once in a while and this last one was a doozy!

But back to Playgroup.

On Friday, at Playgroup, Sonwun was running up the slide (even though I'd told him not to) and, because he was wearing socks, he slipped and did a face-plant into the side of said slide. Fat lip number three.

So at least we all match. And I'm working on responses for anyone who dares to ask what the hell happened.

"Yeah, well you should see the other toddler, preschooler and stay-at-home dad. We messed 'em up real good."

Or perhaps:

"Well, if you don't get them into mixed martial arts early, they'll never make the UFC."

"Rodeo Clown Preschool ain't for sissies."

Or if I'm really grumpy and am sensing an "attitude" from the person asking:

"Doctor's waiting for lab results . . . Hey, who's up for a play-date?"

But back to Playgroup.

One of the main reasons for attending is social development. Your child learns to take turns, to cooperate and to share. He learns to be part of a community. And now, we've learned that at least one of the 50 kids in the Playgroup community Friday was sick. And this child, or children, was kind enough to share his or her disease with Sonwun.

And that, my friends, is the reason I've enjoyed three hours sleep. It's now 5:39 a.m. and I don't see much sleep in my future. Sonwun has been fighting an almost croup-like cough, sore throat and runny nose on and off throughout the night. We spent half an hour in the bathroom, hot shower running and that seems to have calmed things for now. And even though he is not yet a fan of sharing with his younger brother, I know Sonwun will be sharing this little gift with Sontoo. Who knows? I may even get to share.

But we'll survive. So far it just looks like a cold. No fever, pretty good attitude and appetite. Hopefully, they'll both be over it in a few days. If not, I haven't decided whether we'll return the favour, bring something to Playgroup to "share", and let some other children and parents "take a turn" at a few sleepless nights. After all, isn't that what playgroup's all about?

Computer Genius

Another day in paradise, another day living the dream . . .

Woke up this morning and puked. Not a great start to the day.

Not sure why it happened. I'm feeling a little off this morning and hope it's not the flu or something like that. We'll have to wait and see I guess. Nevertheless, the kids have been fed and the kitchen's clean. So whatever else happens until noon, I'm good.

Sonwun and Sontoo have been playing upstairs since breakfast. We didn't have an "upstairs" until we moved here. So, while I'm getting the kitchen in order, I can hear their little feet pounding around on the hardwood. I'm learning which "thump, thump, thump" means they're running and which one means they've both fallen off the bed while doing aerobics. The latter is usually followed by screaming.

In any case, in the course of kitchen cleaning this morning, I've had to make two trips upstairs; one for each of the progeny. Sonwun (who is now doing time in his room for teasing the dog) made a pretty good thump when he fell off the bed, but has quickly recovered. Sontoo, offering a slightly lesser thump, is sporting a bright red mark on his cheek - not sure what he hit. But he seems to be okay now.

But at least they're not on the computer. Sontoo has taken to hopping on my computer chair the second I'm out of site, and experience with Sonwun has taught me this is not a good thing.

I'm not sure if they are computer geniuses or if they are just so good at causing trouble, it translates naturally to electronics. When Sonwun was about two, he had the same habit Sontoo is developing now. And somehow, about a year and a half ago, he managed to get to the computer, bring up the home folder and rename it. This tends to cause major problems, as every program looking for the home folder can no longer find it. That was a $75 call to Apple tech support.

Sontoo, thus far in his computer experience, has managed to launch a video of himself learning to walk and, this morning, I believe he attempted to rename the home folder. Fortunately, he's not as adept as his elder brother. Silly child used a "." in the new name. Every computer programmer knows you can't do that, so when I caught up to him, the computer was reminding him of this and asking for a different name. I scooped him up before he had the chance to wreak that havoc once again.

Anyway, much to do again today. I am just waiting for Sontoo to poop, so that we can change that diaper and head out to do some shopping and return a video. So much easier to wait for that bit of paradise, than to make the change in the van.