if you look closely
near his eye, you can see the image from the corner of that table, sigh
if you look closely
near his eye, you can see the image from the corner of that table, sigh
Week
of February 19, 2003
So much for weekends filled with good health. This week's malady: a virulent stomach virus.Before we delve into that, let's focus on our good day! On Saturday we ended up investigating the newly opened Eric Carle museum. Owen has fixated on two of Carle's books (Brown Bear, and Polar Bear) in the past few weeks, and looking for something to do out of the house, we thought we'd check out the new museum. We arrived as it opened at 10 to maximize empty space, although Owen was a bit tired. I was edgy, anxious I guess about how Owen would be in such a public space. I figured a children's museum would be child-friendly, but he's a toddler after all. And regrettably, I have noise and intrusive-child issues, much as I try to overcome them.
There was a story time shortly after we got there, and we went to wait in the amazing library. There were some toys that Owen happily played with in the corner, all was well. But as the room filled up with other kids, and everyone gathered in a circle, something strange happened to Owen. He got hyper. Suddenly he wanted nothing but to run around and around the large table in the other half of this large room. The storyteller was very kind, but I felt horrible. Half way through, he whacked his head on the corner of the table (see picture above) and then we had to remove ourselves to recover in the bathroom. Fortunately I was able to distract him with the great animal tiles, and he just bore the mark for the next day or so. Why is it always his head that he hurts, usually in some visible spot?
As soon as the crowd dispersed, he went back to contentedly playing with the bead board in the corner of the room.
Owen had a strange day with us at Scott's parents on Sunday, the 16th. He was hyper and contrary, just what you want when a child is at his grandparents. Was this the beginning of the terrible twos, we wondered, when children are difficult as they try to assert themselves? Owen's always been independent and stubborn (despite his mild mannered, albeit active, demeanor), was this just the next stage?
He ate little on Sunday, he slept badly on Sunday night and then on Monday morning, while in the parking lot of CVS, he puked. While I was holding him, 5 times in row. Vast quantities of curdled milk, all over himself and all over me. Owen and I were wet and stank, it was a fun ride home for all of us. Owen of course was descending into tummy hell and crying his heart out, and Scott and I were wrecks unable to help our little boy. And a small part of me was given over to the fear that our oozing stench would drip on the car seats to haunt us in the future.
It was a laundry morning (and hey, my jacket apparently will go through the washing machine!). For good or bad, it was fortunate that it was a long weekend. Owen, for the rest of the day, would not move more than 6 inches from me. He's normally a creature in motion, but on Monday, he was napping and motionless most of the day. I was tethered to the couch and to him, and while it was wonderful cuddling with him, it was a tough experience feeling so trapped and useless. I felt powerless to do anything that would actually make Owen feel better. Owen drank a very tiny bit that day. He didn't vomit again until that night as Scott was holding him ("Wow, that's warm!" said Scott). We'd broken and given him some milk since he was drinking so little, so Scott got the full, curdled experience.
Monday was also the day of the enormous snowstorm. We'd been out and about early that morning, so we could beat the snow for errands and Owen's ride in the car (= nap). He didn't nap, he cried, our first clue that something was amiss. We decided to run one errand to CVS, and look where it got us! We shuffled home and cleaned up, and we were done with laundry by 10 o'clock, when the snow began. It snowed and snowed and snowed. In many respects, it was a good day to hole up inside the house with a sick child.
And the gods were smiling, because it snowed so much that by 7:30 on Monday night, UMass cancelled the next day's work. UMass rarely cancels, and rarely with notice, so this was a true gift. No sick days required, we could both spend the day with our little boy on Tuesday. Yay!!! We were delighted, although Owen was still very unhappy much of the time and we were going through diapers at a fast clip (ew).
We split Wednesday, so Scott got to take him to the follow up Doctor's appointment (to make sure his ears had cleared up from the ear infection several weeks past). Owen loathes being restrained so he immediately burst into tears when he saw the doctor. He was pretty worked up just getting undressed on the crinkly table (reminding him, no doubt, of past shots). They couldn't get him to sit to be weighed. He was described as "strong" and "feisty" - what else do you call a child using every ounce of himself to fight you off? Poor guy, I was hoping he'd have more innocent visits to the doctor, but the shots and the ear pokes have already made him wary of the medical profession. I'm not sure he's winning over our Pediatrician, she always sees him with eyes filled with tears. And he has such a winning smile.
Thursday, Scott took Owen for day. It's probably a good thing, since Owen has become rather clingy of me lately. He's clingy enough that I have to do most of the direct care-giving, Scott gets an ancillary role. While I'm happy to nurture him, it's a bit tough on Scott, having Owen push him away so often! I hope this phase fades out as quickly as it appeared; Scott is a little hurt, even though he realizes it goes with the territory. And Owen loves to play with Scott so it's not a rationale decision. I think Moms who breastfed have an edge for comforting, children turn to them when they're needy.
Or maybe he just loves me best.
:-)
We thought Owen was mostly better on Thursday, but he vomited as we sat him down in his highchair that night, so we split Friday at home with him as well. Both Thursday and Friday were sunny and relatively warm, for which we were grateful. He wasn't up for running around much, but he was happy to be out and about; by Saturday, he was recovered and began to eat once more. No one else we know has had this illness, Owen was an island of misery unto himself. The only thing worse than a sick child, must be caring for him when you're sick yourself.
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