There's a Child Out Here, People. That's the Reality.

Join me on my journey through parenthood. BYOHelmet.

Ding dong, the turkey’s dead November 26, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — aggieonboard @ 9:55 pm

and now I can geek out on Christmas guilt-free. WOOT!

I appreciate that the turkey brings families together and signals the beginning of the holiday season. (Some would say that’s Halloween’s job. They would be wrong.)

I also enjoy my family’s practice of celebrating said holiday back in Mayberry, so Andrew and I can do lots of this:

(Spoiler alert: I am totally in my pjs here.)

All told, it’s been wonderful. However, it’s time for Andrew to be reunited with reality since his new favorite word is “no!” and he goes into full on scream-mode if his requests aren’t heeded the moment they are (oh so clearly) expressed. Oh yeah, it’s time for someone to be taken down a peg or two. That’s why I plan to drive him straight from his Utopia to his dad’s apartment. Best of luck to him.

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Andrew’s completely unremarkable day November 20, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — aggieonboard @ 5:41 pm

woke at 7:30

grumped around until Mama forced him to nap early, at 10:00

woke up ready for “boat! boat!”

cruised the high seas

now eating spaghetti and then exploring the backyard

Life is good at Mamie and Pop’s

 

Focus, Self. Focus. November 16, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — aggieonboard @ 10:28 pm

How can I write all that I want to write when I’m distracted by the awesomeness of glee and the smell of yummy muffins?

My brain is mush. Mushy mushy mush. Mushier than the banana I smushed and added to the chocolate chip muffins so I could pretend they were healthy.

What were we saying?

Andrew is sick, dear interwebs. I tried telling him at the pedi’s office today but he didn’t seem to care. He did care about the fish, though.

Man I love Sue Sylvester. Love.

Anyway, so yeah. He’s been on six virtually consecutive rounds of antibiotics. I’ve been pushing for answers and for him to  eat more yogurt.

Friday he’s supposed to get tubes in his ears to combat recurring ear infections. He finished antibiotics for one this weekend.

He has another one already.

And a new medicine for his nebulizer (which he had to start with the last round of drugs).

This one costs $98 a month ($499 without insurance) and makes his sessions last twenty minutes, morning and night.

Have you ever tried to strap a steaming mask that sounds like a semi truck to the face of a non-compliant toddler and keep it there for twenty minutes?

Want to come over tomorrow morning and try it?

Before snotting our way to the pedi’s office unexpectedly, I had a nice long chat with the doctor about the Unfairness and Unacceptableness of it all when he called to check on Andrew. The visit wasn’t scheduled–but when daycare calls to say your kid is having trouble breathing, you find yourself saying “I’m bringing my kid ____ in to see Dr. _____ now.”  (Normally I’d go back and edit this stream of consciousness drivel and at least put stuff in order, but not tonight, friends. This is for realz.)

So during the call at lunch, I said things like “future immunity” and “side effects” and “runny poop” and he said things like “yeah, yeah, I hear you” and “further testing” and “compromised immune system” and “cystic fibrosis” and then I sat in my car and cried before going back into work.

Oh and my mailman is a complete idiot and returned Mr. Aggie’s half of daycare/insurance to the state, saying I’d moved. He continued to deliver my junk mail, though. Remind me to punch him in the taco, should the opportunity present itself.

So yeah. Money dramaz.. And Andrew’s sick. And work got all tense all of the sudden. And I’m tired. And sometimes, I feel overwhelmed by it all.

But I asked for this, and I can do this. I can deal with rushing out of a meeting, updating parents/grandparents, dealing with doctors and a sick kid and being at Target waiting on our prescription at 6:30 at night, scrapping plans to make spaghetti and play, instead picking up frozen veggies and a  premade chicken. I can feed, bathe, pajama, and feed again an increasingly headstrong kid without taking off my heels. I can feed myself somewhere in there (I think) and clean the kitchen and make muffins so the bananas don’t go completely to waste.

And then, when that little boy who is my whole world falls asleep during his breathing treatment while watching Glee, I can hold him and savor his weight, place him in his crib and tuck his quilt around him. I can tiptoe back to the couch and sit in the dark and type this entry and cry a little and say to you that I am tired. and sometimes I am overwhelmed. But I can do this.

And I will.

 

It’s the parents, stupid. November 2, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — aggieonboard @ 8:16 pm

So we made the decision to move Andrew to another daycare. That’s one of the things I’m pretty stoked about, that we’ve managed to keep Everything Else out of the way when it comes to doing what’s best for Fat Elvis.

Why Fat Elvis, you ask? Peep the belly, yo.

Before the change, he was in a nice, cozy in home daycare with quite a few other toddlers of varying socio-economic status. Seriously, it looked like something straight out of a ‘join-hands’ Coca-Cola commercial. Still, it came time for a switch and we decided on a completely different setting.

And I mean completely. Now I have to input a PIN to check A in and out of the facility, like he’s punching a time card at the sewing factory. I have to pay extra for breakfast and for someone to come and teach nutrition (to my two-year -old, not to me. I try to tell him all the time about the dangers of trans fats, but he pays me no mind.)

I was very nervous about these changes, as you can imagine. Even though we both felt right about the move, and even though we had received hearty endorsements, I was still wary. I shouldn’t have worried at all, of course, because he was awesome. The teachers love him already, and say he’s great at following directions and that he settled right in. As I watched for a minute before picking him up, he was playing happily with four ladies (that’s my boy!) and the teacher. I was happy to see that only two of the four were as albino as my spawn. 

I am not adjusting as well. Maybe it’s because of the d-bag father with the energy drink sticker on his truck who cut me off in the parking lot (in the parking lot! of the daycare that our children both attend!  Did he not think we’d meet again, ten seconds later, waiting in the same tiny entryway?) or maybe it’s the fact that I saw a mom signing out her child named Liberty and I died a little inside.

Alls I”m saying is, I’m pretty sure I’m rocking the only npr sticker in the parking lot. I hope I’m wrong, and that A makes tons of new friends and I meet some soft and liberal on the inside, crunchy on the outside parents to bond with as well. Otherwise, his only hope of getting the evite to Sarah Maverick Smith’s birthday party is if they think his father is the only one in the picture.

And for absolutely no reason, this.