So Max's nappy rash has cleared up! It was teeth related but there are no new teeth to be seen yet. He has had quite a week. He went to the zoo and he drank his own pee.
Let me tell you about the Zoo first. Max is at the stage that he doesn't really distinguish between the animals and the other people. He looked at goats, he saw penguins and giraffes. The humbolt penguins were the only real hit. They were walking around near to the glass and Max was nose to beak with one of them for a couple of seconds. He flaps his hands exactly like a penguin, he swims a bit like a penguin but there the similarity ends. The two looked at each other for those few seconds and turned away with their dignity and interspecies relations intact. He also looked at Meerkats. His parents enjoyed this much more than he did.
Now for the pee story. It was Friday morning and things were going very well. We were ahead of ourselves. Max was dressed and just ready to get into his car seat. His bottles were prepared and packed away with his and hers lunches. Ciara ran for a bus and I lifted Max up to put him into his suit for the bike. It was then that I caught a whiff of his full nappy. I am used to the noxious fumes that emanate from his nappies so I didn't react, I camly took him into the changing table and took off his clothes. I've got to give you a bit of background - whenever the nappy is taken off, Max grabs his penis. It's not of any concern, most boys do this for their whole lives. He reaches down and squeezes for all he's worth. I keep telling him that it's not a toy and that it won't make a squeaky noise. But he just keeps on squeezing until the nappy goes back on.
Interestingly when he is sitting on a towel bare bummed to defeat the spectre of nappy rash he doesn't go near mini-Max. It's only for the quick nappy change. So Friday morning, the nappy comes off and while I am dealing with the faeces I'm holding his hands. When he is clean he reaches down and I turn my back to reach for a new nappy. Nature takes its course and he pees. He pees while he is holding his penis straight up. The pee goes straight up and miraculously misses his clothes and lands on his mouth and cheeks. This doesn't phase him one little bit. In fact he sticks out his tongue and licks up some more. I am simply horrified. I clean him up, I put on his clothes and I put him in his car seat. I am full of horror and concern that he has done himself great damage. I storm out of the apartment muttering and cursing under my breath. Not only has Max now got some dreadfully virulent pee borne disease but we are late for the morning cycle.
It is only when we are cycling down the hill that I burst out laughing. He drank his own pee. He drank his own pee. As long as that virulent disease doesn't strike this is going to keep me smiling for weeks.
Sunday, February 26, 2012
Thursday, February 23, 2012
The rash that dare not speak it's name...
There is a lot of talk in the parenting community about nappy rash. I say community, it is more like a world. There are websites, forums, comment boards, experts, moderators and gurus. There are more bits of advice out there then there are babies. In fact I swear that there are people on these sites that never had kids and just like the buzz of reading a piece of advice on one site and repeating it on another. This has to be the case. There are just too many of them. So they all agree on nappy rash, they agree its a bad thing.
It is a bad thing. It compounds the ridiculous pain that teething causes in the mouth and mirrors it in the other end. At the risk of putting you off your food for a month it is like some evil doer took a cheese grater to our little prince's behind. There are powders, creams, poultices, remedies and herbs that are suggested and according to obsessive internet chat room parents are all guaranteed to work and not work in equal measure.
So Max has some nappy rash. We have lots of options. We can apply each suggested solution in alphabetical order until some or all of them work. We can ignore the problem and let it go away of its own accord with the associated pain suffering and gnashing of new little teeth. We could cover the house in plastic sheeting and leave his nappy off and let him go for it. Plenty of industrial strength cleaner around for the inevitable - and no more nappy rash.
Perhaps a system like the horses in Killarney with their low hanging bags. It would play havock with his crawling but no more nappy rash. Perhaps stop feeding or watering him, just IV injections of nutrients and carbohydrates - so it would mess up his development - but no more nappy rash.
In the meantime he will have to cope with his cheese grater behind, as we try option one, because that is what dedicated parents do. The rest are likely to get us arrested.
It is a bad thing. It compounds the ridiculous pain that teething causes in the mouth and mirrors it in the other end. At the risk of putting you off your food for a month it is like some evil doer took a cheese grater to our little prince's behind. There are powders, creams, poultices, remedies and herbs that are suggested and according to obsessive internet chat room parents are all guaranteed to work and not work in equal measure.
So Max has some nappy rash. We have lots of options. We can apply each suggested solution in alphabetical order until some or all of them work. We can ignore the problem and let it go away of its own accord with the associated pain suffering and gnashing of new little teeth. We could cover the house in plastic sheeting and leave his nappy off and let him go for it. Plenty of industrial strength cleaner around for the inevitable - and no more nappy rash.
Perhaps a system like the horses in Killarney with their low hanging bags. It would play havock with his crawling but no more nappy rash. Perhaps stop feeding or watering him, just IV injections of nutrients and carbohydrates - so it would mess up his development - but no more nappy rash.
In the meantime he will have to cope with his cheese grater behind, as we try option one, because that is what dedicated parents do. The rest are likely to get us arrested.
Sunday, February 12, 2012
Learning to crawl
Babies crawl don't they? That's what they do. They want to move and so they propel themselves with all of the might of their little arms and legs. I guess that Max wants to be a little different. Having mastered the art of rolling and letting us capture it on video as proof, he has never used this skill again.
It has become a talking point in the crèche. They refer to Max as the one who doesn't roll. I didn't understand the significance of this until I was there for a few minutes the other day being updated on the biting incident. That's another story altogether. So there I was listening intently to the apologetic tones of the wonderful educarer, a child, only a little older than Max began to roll. They rolled and rolled and rolled until they had reached their destination. Then they stopped, raised themselves up on their forearms and called for assistance from anyone who was listening. This roll was much better than a crawl as it had drama, periodic pauses to confirm trajectory and a good dose of fun.
I was told that such a roll is a clear precursor to a really dynamic crawl. Now crawling has taken a beating due to the advice from all quarters that babies never be left unattended on their tummies. If the babies are not on their tummies they cannot learn to crawl. So we have tummy time where Max is put on his tummy with full supervision and a safety vest. He can raise himself up, he can raise his neck, he meets all of the developmental goals and then goes back to sitting up and chewing anything within reach. As for rolling or crawling though, that's a no. We are putting items out of reach. We are cheering at the merest twitch of his thigh muscles. We are promising him untold riches if he will take that first lunge. But no. He will move when he is ready. His father, I have to sadly report did not crawl until he was one. This has held him back to this day and is a bit embarrassing. We will not allow a story to be told about max at his 21st birthday party that involves a cake, his five bellies and his first crawl. No disrespect to my own parents who were blameless in this matter, I was just a tubby lazy infant. Max may not have licked it from a stone.
But back to the biting incident that I teased you with earlier. Max was bitten by another toddler. The identity of this toddler has been kept a secret and it is just as well. If I knew which cannibal family he, she or it belonged to I would lie in wait for them at the crèche and slash their tyres. Joking aside, the whole episode was both comical and a testament to the great care that he is getting in the crèche.
When I picked him up on the day in question, which shall now forever be know as biter Tuesday, I was met with the usual routine. Max sees me and beams and then starts to cry as I try to gather his things to make the journey home, so I pause and pick him up. This makes gathering the rest of his things five times as hard. The educarers talk me through his day, the ups, the downs, the soiled nappies and the vomits, the sensory bottles and a list of the songs they sang. All went as normal up to this point when an A4 piece of paper was unfolded from the book and the nervous educarer told me that there had been an incident.
My first reaction was that Max had done something awful, like tried to drink the hand sanitizer or eye-gouged on of his crèche-mates. But no, he was the Mahatma Ghandi of this piece. He turned the other cheek, in this case forehead as the evil one sank all four of his/her razor sharp teeth stumps into his precious and delicate skull. I exaggerate. There was a tiny mark on his head. He cared not a jot and shrugged the whole thing off when we discussed it later. The educarers were a little more concerned and had filled out an incident report form with an exact report of the incident and how they had all responded. I was actually amazed. They had really gone to great trouble to detail everything and while I know that this kind of thing is driven by insurance and the spectre of Health&Safety it was very reassuring.
I know that Max could have lashed out and dealt a return blow to the biter. I know he can defend himself, he is capable of beating his mother and me away very quickly. But he chose not to do so under the watchful eyes of the educarers. He is biding his time, one day when their backs are turned and the time is right, that biter will regret ever getting their first tooth and the little tooth fairy will be paying a premature visit to that household. His kicks are coming along very nicely thank you. It's just such a pity about the crawling.
It has become a talking point in the crèche. They refer to Max as the one who doesn't roll. I didn't understand the significance of this until I was there for a few minutes the other day being updated on the biting incident. That's another story altogether. So there I was listening intently to the apologetic tones of the wonderful educarer, a child, only a little older than Max began to roll. They rolled and rolled and rolled until they had reached their destination. Then they stopped, raised themselves up on their forearms and called for assistance from anyone who was listening. This roll was much better than a crawl as it had drama, periodic pauses to confirm trajectory and a good dose of fun.
I was told that such a roll is a clear precursor to a really dynamic crawl. Now crawling has taken a beating due to the advice from all quarters that babies never be left unattended on their tummies. If the babies are not on their tummies they cannot learn to crawl. So we have tummy time where Max is put on his tummy with full supervision and a safety vest. He can raise himself up, he can raise his neck, he meets all of the developmental goals and then goes back to sitting up and chewing anything within reach. As for rolling or crawling though, that's a no. We are putting items out of reach. We are cheering at the merest twitch of his thigh muscles. We are promising him untold riches if he will take that first lunge. But no. He will move when he is ready. His father, I have to sadly report did not crawl until he was one. This has held him back to this day and is a bit embarrassing. We will not allow a story to be told about max at his 21st birthday party that involves a cake, his five bellies and his first crawl. No disrespect to my own parents who were blameless in this matter, I was just a tubby lazy infant. Max may not have licked it from a stone.
But back to the biting incident that I teased you with earlier. Max was bitten by another toddler. The identity of this toddler has been kept a secret and it is just as well. If I knew which cannibal family he, she or it belonged to I would lie in wait for them at the crèche and slash their tyres. Joking aside, the whole episode was both comical and a testament to the great care that he is getting in the crèche.
When I picked him up on the day in question, which shall now forever be know as biter Tuesday, I was met with the usual routine. Max sees me and beams and then starts to cry as I try to gather his things to make the journey home, so I pause and pick him up. This makes gathering the rest of his things five times as hard. The educarers talk me through his day, the ups, the downs, the soiled nappies and the vomits, the sensory bottles and a list of the songs they sang. All went as normal up to this point when an A4 piece of paper was unfolded from the book and the nervous educarer told me that there had been an incident.
My first reaction was that Max had done something awful, like tried to drink the hand sanitizer or eye-gouged on of his crèche-mates. But no, he was the Mahatma Ghandi of this piece. He turned the other cheek, in this case forehead as the evil one sank all four of his/her razor sharp teeth stumps into his precious and delicate skull. I exaggerate. There was a tiny mark on his head. He cared not a jot and shrugged the whole thing off when we discussed it later. The educarers were a little more concerned and had filled out an incident report form with an exact report of the incident and how they had all responded. I was actually amazed. They had really gone to great trouble to detail everything and while I know that this kind of thing is driven by insurance and the spectre of Health&Safety it was very reassuring.
I know that Max could have lashed out and dealt a return blow to the biter. I know he can defend himself, he is capable of beating his mother and me away very quickly. But he chose not to do so under the watchful eyes of the educarers. He is biding his time, one day when their backs are turned and the time is right, that biter will regret ever getting their first tooth and the little tooth fairy will be paying a premature visit to that household. His kicks are coming along very nicely thank you. It's just such a pity about the crawling.
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
The eradication of smallpox
They all said it. They all said what creche would bring. They warned us. They said to stock up on Calpol, Neurofen, anti-biotics and anti-virals. They said that creche is a petri dish, a breeding ground for diseases, a veritable pot-puree of poxes and pustule causing nasties.
We laughed behind our hands. We sniggered, not our Max we said. He is a strong robust fighting Irish sort of a baby. He has white blood cells like Ice Hockey enforcers, he has skin of iron and the constitution of an ox. He won't succumb to the little bacteria or the viruses, he is immune.
Look it turned out he wasn't. Now it's not as though he has been wiped out, it's not as though he has lain in bed for the last two weeks. He has however had a sort of running sickness. The best medical advice is that this could last until he is 10 and it becomes uncool to be the guy in class with the runny nose.
The runny nose is a baseline. The runny nose is like the flour in baking, a constant. There are many different additives. The first is a dry cough. A dry hacking 20 Benson's a day cough. Thankfully he coughs very little. The second is a spot of reasonable conjunctivitis. Aparently everyone gets this. It's pus in the eyes, that seems to be all. It didn't seem to bother him too much but the gunk in his eyes when he woke up glued his eyelids shut for a few seconds. This distressed him, but then he got them open and he smiled. Then of course he coughed and got distressed again. These three things, the nose, the cough, the eyes, they are in a little revolving circle of low level illness.
What's next I wonder? Could he get a bit of a stomach bug? I have the wall cleaning liquid at hand. I have the industrial strength nappies in stock. There is enough talcum powder and baby-wipes around to plaster-cast the GPO. If its not a bug then we have the major pharmaceutical companies on speed-dial.
My question is this, why in the hell can we not eradicate this stuff. Think of the loss of earnings, productivity and sanity that is caused by low level sickness. There must be money in it. Are the big multi-nationals not throwing millions at this. Parents of rich and poor alike could surely get behind a campaign. I will certainly throw in a fiver which is all I have left after the creche fees that caused all of this in the first place.
Little Max is bearing it all like a trooper. He was off his food for a bit but is back on it in a big way. Shepard's pie was today's big hit. He is sleeping very well and he is seriously on the mend. The funniest thing is when he sneezes. A long tube of light green splurg shoots out and rests like a dead caterpillar on his upper lip for a few seconds. Just until his hand comes up and spreads the splurg across his face. The trick is getting the tissue to his nose before he gets his hand there. Believe me I have considered strapping his hands down but in the meantime I have become very adept at grabbing tissues and leaping over furniture.
I plan to set up a small virus and bacteria reference lab and let Max be patient zero in an aggressive Edward Jenner style elimination of all baby diseases. Are you with me?
We laughed behind our hands. We sniggered, not our Max we said. He is a strong robust fighting Irish sort of a baby. He has white blood cells like Ice Hockey enforcers, he has skin of iron and the constitution of an ox. He won't succumb to the little bacteria or the viruses, he is immune.
Look it turned out he wasn't. Now it's not as though he has been wiped out, it's not as though he has lain in bed for the last two weeks. He has however had a sort of running sickness. The best medical advice is that this could last until he is 10 and it becomes uncool to be the guy in class with the runny nose.
The runny nose is a baseline. The runny nose is like the flour in baking, a constant. There are many different additives. The first is a dry cough. A dry hacking 20 Benson's a day cough. Thankfully he coughs very little. The second is a spot of reasonable conjunctivitis. Aparently everyone gets this. It's pus in the eyes, that seems to be all. It didn't seem to bother him too much but the gunk in his eyes when he woke up glued his eyelids shut for a few seconds. This distressed him, but then he got them open and he smiled. Then of course he coughed and got distressed again. These three things, the nose, the cough, the eyes, they are in a little revolving circle of low level illness.
What's next I wonder? Could he get a bit of a stomach bug? I have the wall cleaning liquid at hand. I have the industrial strength nappies in stock. There is enough talcum powder and baby-wipes around to plaster-cast the GPO. If its not a bug then we have the major pharmaceutical companies on speed-dial.
My question is this, why in the hell can we not eradicate this stuff. Think of the loss of earnings, productivity and sanity that is caused by low level sickness. There must be money in it. Are the big multi-nationals not throwing millions at this. Parents of rich and poor alike could surely get behind a campaign. I will certainly throw in a fiver which is all I have left after the creche fees that caused all of this in the first place.
Little Max is bearing it all like a trooper. He was off his food for a bit but is back on it in a big way. Shepard's pie was today's big hit. He is sleeping very well and he is seriously on the mend. The funniest thing is when he sneezes. A long tube of light green splurg shoots out and rests like a dead caterpillar on his upper lip for a few seconds. Just until his hand comes up and spreads the splurg across his face. The trick is getting the tissue to his nose before he gets his hand there. Believe me I have considered strapping his hands down but in the meantime I have become very adept at grabbing tissues and leaping over furniture.
I plan to set up a small virus and bacteria reference lab and let Max be patient zero in an aggressive Edward Jenner style elimination of all baby diseases. Are you with me?
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