Thursday, May 24, 2012

Wheezing, fevers, and bulb syringes

So, I've kept the kids at home all this week because the three of us have been in an alternating battle against sinus/upper-respiratory infections, colds, bronchial wheezing, and LOTS of drippy green snot (both of my little ones have had the "green elevens" all week, if you know what I mean), so I didn't want to further expose their already compromised immune systems to more germs/get a bunch of other kids sick.


As a result of trading our usual trips to the park, story time at the library, the Bounce House, play dates, the Little Gym, and even various errands for fevers, sniffles, aforementioned green elevens, coughing, Tylenol, Benadryl, Amoxicillin, respirators, humidifiers, saline, and bulb syringes, some of us have been struck with a bonus case of Cabin Fever, and by some of us, I mean MJ.


Even under-the-weather, she's into everything.


On Monday, MJ had a 102 degree fever.  Regardless, I spent 90% of the day saying things like, "Sit on your bottom!  Couches are not for bouncing!"  This inspired me to share some of the interesting conversations (albeit most one-sided) I've found myself having with myself my two-year-old.
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me: Okay, Lovey; let's blow your nose.
MJ: Nooo!  No blow nose!  I wike bogies!
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Alex: waaaaaaaaaah!
me: Oh!  What happened?
MJ: Machaewa throw shaker. Hit Bay-Awex head.
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me: Couches are not for diving!
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MJ: No poopies in uh unnawares.  Nooooo.  It's yuckies.
(Guess where the poopies were?)
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me: Couches are not for coloring!  Where did you get that pen?
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MJ: I snuggle Bay-Awex.
me: MJ!  We do not sit on our brother's head!
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me: MJ!  No bite!  Dining chairs are not food!
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MJ: Mommy's working.
me: Yes. Mommy's writing a grocery list so Daddy can go to the store.
MJ: Machaewa make list?
me: Great idea! (Handing her paper and crayons) Only color on the paper!
MJ: No bite.
me: Right! Crayons are for coloring.
MJ: (eats red crayon) I fixed it!  Nooooo!  Ugh!  No color lips!  Only color paper!
(apparently I'm not the only one who talks to myself.)
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me: MJ, what's in your mouth?
MJ: Rocks. Paper.
me: (trying not to laugh) Scissors, too?
MJ: No scissors.  No touch.  No put scissors in mouth.  That's yuckies.
(Duh, Mom.  Only rocks and paper are culinary delicacies.)
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MJ: Get down!  Right now!
me: Machaela!  We do not stand on the table!  Let go of that light fixture!
MJ: Time out.


Note: I was planning to post a pic of MJ wearing her nebulizer mask (poor thing), the giant bite mark left on the dining room chair by our goat daughter, and Alex up on his hands and knees (rocking back and forth!) but I can't find the connector thingy for my camera's memory card.  Ugggh technology!

Friday, May 11, 2012

Mean Girls

MJ is one of those wonderful little souls that has never met a stranger.  She will run up to any child, boy or girl, big or little, and attempt to engage them in some kind of play.  I've always liked this about her and encouraged her to be friendly to all little children.  She's so different than me, since I need a written invitation to approach a group, but motherhood has given me an excuse to get better about that, but hey, this isn't about me anyway . . . 


Apparently, other parents are training their children to be total jerks.  This isn't true of all parents, or their children.  And when it happens, I don't really think it's intentional.  Some children gleefully take MJ's outstretched hand and follow her into hours of fun.  For example, at the Bounce House the other day, two older girls were climbing up this huge inflatable thing and sliding down holding hands.  MJ, of course, wanted to join them, so once at the top the girls waited for her and then they lined up three across, yelled "Ready, Set, Go!" and all slid down into giggly oblivion.  My heart almost exploded witnessing her joy.


I had a complete opposite reaction to one of the world's most ginormous toddler-jerks yesterday.  MJ noticed a new little girl entering the park.  She looked about MJ's size, so my little greeter ran right over to her and exclaimed, "Hi!  Come on!  Let's go play!" as she extended her hand.  The little girl stared at this welcoming invitation from the cutest person on the planet and immediately rejected her, wrinkling up her nose as if she smelled something stinky, and ran off in the other direction.  MJ just looked at me as if she was thinking: was it something I said?  At that moment, my heart shattered into a million pieces, and I had to physically restrain myself from punching someone else's toddler in the nose.  


Okay, I would never really consider punching a toddler.  Or punching anyone, really, because I'm pretty non-confrontational.  Except with children.  I see a child out of line and I correct them, even if I don't know them.  You're welcome, parents.  Like the time we were at Water Country and this little boy kept literally climbing over the decorative part of the slide to cut in front of the kids who were waiting patiently to climb the steps to get to the top, and as he attempted to step in front of my sweet girl, I blocked him with my arm, looked him in the eye, and simply told him "Wait!  It's not your turn.  Go up the stairs like everyone else!"  His mother just looked on from beneath her sun hat, perched comfortably with a book in her lounge chair dangling her feet into the pool.  She didn't say a word, so I doubt it bothered her that her son was being a total jerk or that I was doing her parenting for her.


A similar incident occurred at the play space in Chesapeake Square Mall a few weeks ago.  MJ was happily climbing on all the plastic structures, chasing other children, and generally having a great, squeal-y time.  Because she is TWO, it takes her about 6 seconds to carefully lower herself to a sitting position at the top of the slide.  Apparently that wasn't fast enough for this kid, (we'll call him "Cage," because he should be in one, and it actually rhymes with his real name), because as she was mid-squat, he hurriedly ran up the steps, saw that MJ was in his way, and shoved her.  Because she was mid-squat, this sent her flying head-first through the air and into a crumpled mess at the bottom.  I placed Alex on the blanket I'd had for him on the floor and rushed over to make sure she was still breathing.  She wasn't really hurt, just surprised (the slide isn't really all that big), so she dusted herself off and looked up to find out what in the world had happened.  I gave her a hug and shot a glare at the brat still standing, looking a little shocked, at the top of the slide, and then hissed at him that he needed to keep his hands to himself and that pushing was unacceptable.  I may also have done some pointing/finger-shaking.  Usually I would have mitigated some kind of conflict resolution skills between the two children, but my heart was still racing and I was still eye-checking her for signs of sudden-onset bleeding or bruises.  


I then looked over the structure to see what his mother was planning to do about her little deviant (I may or may not be judging him a little harshly, but that's what happens when you poke a mama bear with a stick), only to find her oblivious to the entire situation because she was absorbed by her stupid iPhone.  Which should be illegal for all parents, because apparently the mere ownership of an iPhone makes people believe they are way more important than they really are, and that whatever text or app or status update or tweet they are checking is way more important than being present with their child.  I digress.  The point is, her reaction could have fostered an opportunity for positive growth in her child.  Her absence sends the message that it doesn't matter what he does or how he acts.  He was probably about six years old, and it didn't even occur to him to apologize to the baby he just carelessly pushed down a slide.


But we've experienced the effects of "Cage's" mother's "parenting" before, at a local park.  And I've written too much about them already, so that's enough rant for now.


Anyway, the experience with the toddler I wanted to punch at the park makes me think about how mean other kids (especially girls) can be, and I think about how much I am NOT looking forward to seeing MJ's (or Alex's) heart broken every time some little brat thinks he or she is king or queen of the playground.  Can it really be starting already?