What the heck...how is it Friday already??
I honestly have no idea where this week went. And I am a rather loud, vocal complainer when it comes to the week moving too slowly, so this is kind of a nice change. I'd like to thank Mother Nature for the drop in temperature, which I think played a role this week flying by. It is beyond blissful to be able to actually go to the park and not worry about your child frying off his hand on playground equipment.
So, what's new...let me think. We have more visitors in town this weekend; this is the SoCal Contingent (last weekend it was the NoCal Group.) I'm so excited to see Adam and Tiffany again on their first excursion as a married couple, even though they are in town for Young Republican stuff (::sigh::). How many weeks until the election? I'm at a place where I could really care less who wins (Harry Reid: blah, too), I just want the ridiculous phone calls to stop. Since Brian and I are in different parties, it seems like we get twice as many. And when they call during naptime...oh, lord. Yesterday, Scotty fell asleep at 2:45 (after only 19 minutes of fussing!) and then the phone rang at 2:52. He didn't fall back asleep until 3:45. And right now, as he sleeps, I have the phone off the hook. Not joking.
We attended another music class this week, and I take back everything I said previously. It was BEYOND fun. Oh my gosh, I had the best time and so did Scotty. I went to the 1:00pm class on Monday, and it was only four other kids...all between the ages of 12 months and 22 months. So it was just perfect, since they were all doing the same things. Scotty LOVED the music and dancing, and made a few new friends. Kai was a little bit of a loose cannon; he needed to be taken out a few times for bad behavior, but Elsa and Lily were sweet as pie. (the other little boy was Michael, who looked completely shell-shocked and clung to his mother the whole time). Scotty made the rounds, shook some hands, talked policy and essentially charmed everyone in the room. (sorry for the shameless bragging. I was so proud). At the end of the class, Scotty and Elsa, this adorable little blond, were standing and just looking at each other when we started the good-bye song. I think we all held our breath, wondering what the kids were going to do (as I silently prayed, "Don't push her down, don't hit her, don't pull her pigtails, please, please") and after a thorough once-over, they grinned and went their separate ways. I know Scotty is too young to understand it's wrong to pull a little girl's hair, but it was refreshing to not have to intervene. (there were a lot of looks exchanged when Kai started flinging castanets and blocks during free play and was subsequently dragged into the hallway.) I know it's going to happen, but you just never want to be that parent.
As we walked out, Elsa's grandmother (I think) asked how old Scotty was, and then said, "He is a handsome little boy. He's going to be a heartbreaker when he grows up." Aw. So nice of her.
Finally, I think I'll round out today's potpourri with a story from Wednesday. Let's call this "Traumatic Bear Injury." I was feeling rather smug having cleaned out Scotty's Closet (the one downstairs that houses all of his toys). It was now 100% baby-proofed and we could actually play in the closet, which had kind of a cool feel to it. So Scotty and I are just chilling, stacking some blocks on Wednesday morning when bam! He tumbles down (while drinking his sippy cup), and on his way down, he slams his little head into the bottom shelf in the closet. Mind you, I baby-proofed the shelf above it, but not the one farthest down (b/c at the time, I was like, "He'll never fall into that one. It's too low.") And just like everything else in Motherhood, I was proven completely and totally wrong.
He hit his head with such force that I'm surprised he didn't lose consciousness. I immediately grabbed some (crushed) ice and held it to his head while he screamed bloody murder. After 10 minutes, he was fine. No swelling, the redness had gone down, and he was playing normally. I relayed all of my concerns to Brian when he came downstairs, and he could barely see a bump. So I didn't call the doctor. I feel like she thinks I'm a little histrionic to begin with (okay, YOU trying having a child taken by ambulance to the hospital on their 8th day of life and not be a little overly-cautious) so I thought I would wait it out. He wasn't puking, no fluid coming out of his ears or nose (other than general snot from crying), no seizures, change in affect, mood, or energy, etc. (Thank you, WebMD). I gave him some Motrin and put him down for his nap at the normal time. No problem.
I had a baby-sitter coming over so I could run some errands, and when I left, I called the doctor to just double check regarding protocol for head injuries. Mind you, the injury happened at 7am and I was calling at 12:30pm. The receptionist, clearly skilled in the manner of how to freak out a parent in 2.3 seconds, told me 1.) I should have never let him go to sleep, 2.) I needed to bring him in immediately for assessment, and 3.) just because there is no bruising, there could still be internal bleeding. WHAT?!
We were at Dr. Awesome's clinic in about 4 minutes.
And she promptly told me I was overreacting, and kind of laughed at me. So now she is just Dr. Really-Competent-but-Not-So-Great-Bedside-Manner.
I feel like this story emphasizes one of the hardest parts of Motherhood: when do you react? In my gut reaction said, "No problem." But Chicken Little Receptionist made me forgo any kind of instinct and run for medical care immediately. I'm not saying what she did was wrong (it was very correct, from a litigious standpoint), but it's just so hard to know what to do, and when to do it. Oh, the gray hairs.
I am strongly considering a helmet for Scotty at this point.
Anyways, all's well that ends well. He's fine, he doesn't even have a bruise, and we have yet another busy day planned. On my list of things to do: make pumpkin cake. (Thank you, Williams-Sonoma). If it turns out good, I'll post the recipe.
Have a great weekend!
I honestly have no idea where this week went. And I am a rather loud, vocal complainer when it comes to the week moving too slowly, so this is kind of a nice change. I'd like to thank Mother Nature for the drop in temperature, which I think played a role this week flying by. It is beyond blissful to be able to actually go to the park and not worry about your child frying off his hand on playground equipment.
So, what's new...let me think. We have more visitors in town this weekend; this is the SoCal Contingent (last weekend it was the NoCal Group.) I'm so excited to see Adam and Tiffany again on their first excursion as a married couple, even though they are in town for Young Republican stuff (::sigh::). How many weeks until the election? I'm at a place where I could really care less who wins (Harry Reid: blah, too), I just want the ridiculous phone calls to stop. Since Brian and I are in different parties, it seems like we get twice as many. And when they call during naptime...oh, lord. Yesterday, Scotty fell asleep at 2:45 (after only 19 minutes of fussing!) and then the phone rang at 2:52. He didn't fall back asleep until 3:45. And right now, as he sleeps, I have the phone off the hook. Not joking.
We attended another music class this week, and I take back everything I said previously. It was BEYOND fun. Oh my gosh, I had the best time and so did Scotty. I went to the 1:00pm class on Monday, and it was only four other kids...all between the ages of 12 months and 22 months. So it was just perfect, since they were all doing the same things. Scotty LOVED the music and dancing, and made a few new friends. Kai was a little bit of a loose cannon; he needed to be taken out a few times for bad behavior, but Elsa and Lily were sweet as pie. (the other little boy was Michael, who looked completely shell-shocked and clung to his mother the whole time). Scotty made the rounds, shook some hands, talked policy and essentially charmed everyone in the room. (sorry for the shameless bragging. I was so proud). At the end of the class, Scotty and Elsa, this adorable little blond, were standing and just looking at each other when we started the good-bye song. I think we all held our breath, wondering what the kids were going to do (as I silently prayed, "Don't push her down, don't hit her, don't pull her pigtails, please, please") and after a thorough once-over, they grinned and went their separate ways. I know Scotty is too young to understand it's wrong to pull a little girl's hair, but it was refreshing to not have to intervene. (there were a lot of looks exchanged when Kai started flinging castanets and blocks during free play and was subsequently dragged into the hallway.) I know it's going to happen, but you just never want to be that parent.
As we walked out, Elsa's grandmother (I think) asked how old Scotty was, and then said, "He is a handsome little boy. He's going to be a heartbreaker when he grows up." Aw. So nice of her.
Finally, I think I'll round out today's potpourri with a story from Wednesday. Let's call this "Traumatic Bear Injury." I was feeling rather smug having cleaned out Scotty's Closet (the one downstairs that houses all of his toys). It was now 100% baby-proofed and we could actually play in the closet, which had kind of a cool feel to it. So Scotty and I are just chilling, stacking some blocks on Wednesday morning when bam! He tumbles down (while drinking his sippy cup), and on his way down, he slams his little head into the bottom shelf in the closet. Mind you, I baby-proofed the shelf above it, but not the one farthest down (b/c at the time, I was like, "He'll never fall into that one. It's too low.") And just like everything else in Motherhood, I was proven completely and totally wrong.
He hit his head with such force that I'm surprised he didn't lose consciousness. I immediately grabbed some (crushed) ice and held it to his head while he screamed bloody murder. After 10 minutes, he was fine. No swelling, the redness had gone down, and he was playing normally. I relayed all of my concerns to Brian when he came downstairs, and he could barely see a bump. So I didn't call the doctor. I feel like she thinks I'm a little histrionic to begin with (okay, YOU trying having a child taken by ambulance to the hospital on their 8th day of life and not be a little overly-cautious) so I thought I would wait it out. He wasn't puking, no fluid coming out of his ears or nose (other than general snot from crying), no seizures, change in affect, mood, or energy, etc. (Thank you, WebMD). I gave him some Motrin and put him down for his nap at the normal time. No problem.
I had a baby-sitter coming over so I could run some errands, and when I left, I called the doctor to just double check regarding protocol for head injuries. Mind you, the injury happened at 7am and I was calling at 12:30pm. The receptionist, clearly skilled in the manner of how to freak out a parent in 2.3 seconds, told me 1.) I should have never let him go to sleep, 2.) I needed to bring him in immediately for assessment, and 3.) just because there is no bruising, there could still be internal bleeding. WHAT?!
We were at Dr. Awesome's clinic in about 4 minutes.
And she promptly told me I was overreacting, and kind of laughed at me. So now she is just Dr. Really-Competent-but-Not-So-Great-Bedside-Manner.
I feel like this story emphasizes one of the hardest parts of Motherhood: when do you react? In my gut reaction said, "No problem." But Chicken Little Receptionist made me forgo any kind of instinct and run for medical care immediately. I'm not saying what she did was wrong (it was very correct, from a litigious standpoint), but it's just so hard to know what to do, and when to do it. Oh, the gray hairs.
I am strongly considering a helmet for Scotty at this point.
Anyways, all's well that ends well. He's fine, he doesn't even have a bruise, and we have yet another busy day planned. On my list of things to do: make pumpkin cake. (Thank you, Williams-Sonoma). If it turns out good, I'll post the recipe.
Have a great weekend!
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