I just reread Oliver's 16-month update and realized that not a lot has changed. He's still on much the same schedule, eating the same amount, and interested in the same things, like opening and closing doors, climbing stairs, throwing toys and pushing chairs or his carts or wagons around the house. I've found myself reluctantly relying on the pacifier more and more because he can otherwise be so cranky. He still only has four teeth, so the poor kid has a long road of teething in front of him!
My biggest disappointment about this past month is how fatigued (and often sick) I've been, which has meant less energy to play with Oliver. Like any toddler, he alternates between high-energy activities, then wants to be held for a minute, wants up off the couch, down off the couch, wants a book read, another book read, just wants to sit in my lap and hold the book and on and on. So I feel guilty when I don't have the energy to do much more than lie on the couch and watch him play.
My desire and energy to cook has also completely evaporated, so Oliver's diet has had the same lack of variety mine has had in the past couple of weeks. One minor change that has occurred is that in the last week or two, we started giving him a real sandwich, instead of toast with whatever random fixing (usually peanut butter). He'll pull the sandwich apart and eat each piece separately, but handing him a sandwich seems more big-kid like than the toast he's been eating since he was six months old.
Kiera, Matteo, Oliver and Soren
Monday, February 28, 2011
Thursday, February 24, 2011
Mommy Blogging
I started this blog before I had heard of the term "mommy blogger" and whether you think the term is condescending or not, that's what I am. I write about motherhood. Just like every woman who's started a blog about parenthood, (along with a smaller number of daddy bloggers) what I would choose to write about would be obvious - there's a never-ending source of stories to be told about family life.
Many of my "mommy friends" have blogs and although many of us admire and follow one or many of the famous mommy bloggers, none of us is writing to become famous or even for an audience beyond family and that small circle of friends who actually has the interest in hearing story after story about our kids. Yet maybe because of all the attention surrounding mommy blogs, some have felt sheepish about starting one or like they're "jumping on the bandwagon." It's hardly unique to write a blog, particularly about your children. But for those of us with an interest in writing or photography, blogging satisfies the need so many parents feel for a creative outlet. (Heck, I feel brain cells growing back with each full sentence I successfully type without interruption from my kid.) If done well, a blog can be a wonderful gift for your children.
With the attention blogs in general have garnered, has also come controversy surrounding blogs centered on personal narratives, especially when the subject matter is your children. Don't children deserve privacy? Shouldn't they be able to be kids and experience the natural developments of childhood - tantrums, potty training, whatever else made their parents absolutely miserable for days, weeks, even months on end - without every last embarrassing, annoying or non-endearing moment documented in words, pictures, video or all three? Will the cutesy stories we tell about their infancy and early childhood resurface in their vulnerable teenage years? By posting pictures, are we not properly safeguarding their rights to their images?
I continue to write even as I ask myself what impact this blog will have on Oliver in the future. Even before the Internet, there were plenty of ways to embarrass your kids, (For me, as an unphotogenic teenager, it was, "You're including that picture in the Christmas cards you're sending to everyone you know!") except I will admit that Facebook and blogs provide much more fodder to a limitless audience. So I do wrestle with my desire to share my stories of parenthood and my belief that Oliver will someday appreciate that he has this piece of me with the possibility that even if the feeling is temporary, I will embarrass him.
And too, I admit I feel I can get away with my desire to fulfill my need to write because I'm betting on the fact that no one in our family will become famous or run for politic office, and politic vetting teams or Fox News will ever go searching for my blog. And whatever unintended audience does stumble upon my blog, they'll be disappointed to discover it's not a tell-all. Most, no matter how much they appear to be, probably aren't.
In the February 23, 2011 New York Times article, "Queen of the Mommy Bloggers," one of America's most read bloggers, Ree Drummond, author of The Pioneer Woman, said, “Nobody reveals every piece of themselves online. It’s not really inventing a personality as much as shying away from certain subjects.”
And "David Sedaris once said that his stories are ‘true enough.’ Blogs, the ones that last, are also ‘true enough.’"
For my grandmother who wonders why you would "write all that stuff for the world to read," (but is also one of my most dedicated readers) the answer is that like any other blogger (at least those who understand boundaries) I don't write about everything. Some things are either too personal or too painful to write about, other stories are just too boring to bother writing. And then there are the ideas for posts I have, but don't have the time write, and too many posts are written, but never published, mostly because I deem them too unpolished to post and eventually I lose interest in the subject and move on to something else.
Just because you have the means to share with the world, doesn't mean you have to. Although we owned a camcorder and the hospital had no policy against videorcording births, no video of Oliver's birth exists simply because we chose not to film it. We did take some pictures to document the experience for ourselves, and I even let Chris take some unflattering ones, because we knew we had no intention of ever showing them to anyone, let alone posting them on Facebook. Our first family photograph - me still lying on the operating room table and Chris in scrubs holding up a swaddled Oliver - was my Facebook profile picture for months after Oliver was born. So many people commented on how radiate I looked despite just having had a c-section after a very long labor. Well, a look of radiance was simply luck, and because the picture happened to be flattering, I posted it. I was my own best PR manager.
Everyone has a story and this blog is the story I choose to tell.
Many of my "mommy friends" have blogs and although many of us admire and follow one or many of the famous mommy bloggers, none of us is writing to become famous or even for an audience beyond family and that small circle of friends who actually has the interest in hearing story after story about our kids. Yet maybe because of all the attention surrounding mommy blogs, some have felt sheepish about starting one or like they're "jumping on the bandwagon." It's hardly unique to write a blog, particularly about your children. But for those of us with an interest in writing or photography, blogging satisfies the need so many parents feel for a creative outlet. (Heck, I feel brain cells growing back with each full sentence I successfully type without interruption from my kid.) If done well, a blog can be a wonderful gift for your children.
With the attention blogs in general have garnered, has also come controversy surrounding blogs centered on personal narratives, especially when the subject matter is your children. Don't children deserve privacy? Shouldn't they be able to be kids and experience the natural developments of childhood - tantrums, potty training, whatever else made their parents absolutely miserable for days, weeks, even months on end - without every last embarrassing, annoying or non-endearing moment documented in words, pictures, video or all three? Will the cutesy stories we tell about their infancy and early childhood resurface in their vulnerable teenage years? By posting pictures, are we not properly safeguarding their rights to their images?
I continue to write even as I ask myself what impact this blog will have on Oliver in the future. Even before the Internet, there were plenty of ways to embarrass your kids, (For me, as an unphotogenic teenager, it was, "You're including that picture in the Christmas cards you're sending to everyone you know!") except I will admit that Facebook and blogs provide much more fodder to a limitless audience. So I do wrestle with my desire to share my stories of parenthood and my belief that Oliver will someday appreciate that he has this piece of me with the possibility that even if the feeling is temporary, I will embarrass him.
And too, I admit I feel I can get away with my desire to fulfill my need to write because I'm betting on the fact that no one in our family will become famous or run for politic office, and politic vetting teams or Fox News will ever go searching for my blog. And whatever unintended audience does stumble upon my blog, they'll be disappointed to discover it's not a tell-all. Most, no matter how much they appear to be, probably aren't.
In the February 23, 2011 New York Times article, "Queen of the Mommy Bloggers," one of America's most read bloggers, Ree Drummond, author of The Pioneer Woman, said, “Nobody reveals every piece of themselves online. It’s not really inventing a personality as much as shying away from certain subjects.”
And "David Sedaris once said that his stories are ‘true enough.’ Blogs, the ones that last, are also ‘true enough.’"
For my grandmother who wonders why you would "write all that stuff for the world to read," (but is also one of my most dedicated readers) the answer is that like any other blogger (at least those who understand boundaries) I don't write about everything. Some things are either too personal or too painful to write about, other stories are just too boring to bother writing. And then there are the ideas for posts I have, but don't have the time write, and too many posts are written, but never published, mostly because I deem them too unpolished to post and eventually I lose interest in the subject and move on to something else.
Just because you have the means to share with the world, doesn't mean you have to. Although we owned a camcorder and the hospital had no policy against videorcording births, no video of Oliver's birth exists simply because we chose not to film it. We did take some pictures to document the experience for ourselves, and I even let Chris take some unflattering ones, because we knew we had no intention of ever showing them to anyone, let alone posting them on Facebook. Our first family photograph - me still lying on the operating room table and Chris in scrubs holding up a swaddled Oliver - was my Facebook profile picture for months after Oliver was born. So many people commented on how radiate I looked despite just having had a c-section after a very long labor. Well, a look of radiance was simply luck, and because the picture happened to be flattering, I posted it. I was my own best PR manager.
Everyone has a story and this blog is the story I choose to tell.
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Monday, February 21, 2011
Another Day of Snow
The Twin Cities received another 12+ inches of snow last night, Chris was away for the better part of the day "powder" skiing in the mountains, I mean, hills, of eastern Minnesota, and my Monday morning was moving unbelievably slowly. Oliver's days are so predictable (eat, play, eat, play, eat, sleep, eat...) that even though they can sometimes feel tedious, (Oh, you want to read that book, again?) breaking the day up into pieces mentally - and knowing that soon we'll be transitioning to lunch or a nap - helps move the day along. Except for today when I assumed it had to be at least 10:30 a.m. and it was only 9:36 a.m.! So even though suiting Oliver up for playing in the snow and the tantrum he threw when I made him come back inside each lasted longer than the amount of time we actually spent outside, I managed to suitably kill enough time until lunch.
What a difference a couple of months makes in Oliver's interest in the snow. When a blizzard hit in mid-December and dropped over 18 inches of snow on us, Oliver wasn't able to walk yet and his coat and snow pants were so big on him, he could hardly move. Then he got snow down his pants and he suddenly wasn't having fun anymore in the winter wonderland. A neighbor had cleared the entire block with his snow blower bright and early this morning, so when I set Oliver down, he hit the ground running (well, toddling) down the sidewalk. It took him a couple of attempts to learn that the freshly-fallen, powdery snow in the snowbanks wouldn't support him when he leaned against them or put his arms out to brace himself. But once he realized how fluffy the snow was, he enjoyed swiping it with his mittens back onto the sidewalk. Luckily he's too small for that tiny pleasure to have been too counter-productive. While he explored the snow, I finished shoveling where the snow blower had missed and then chased Oliver down the street.
His dad will be proud. He'll be a snow-loving baby after all.
What a difference a couple of months makes in Oliver's interest in the snow. When a blizzard hit in mid-December and dropped over 18 inches of snow on us, Oliver wasn't able to walk yet and his coat and snow pants were so big on him, he could hardly move. Then he got snow down his pants and he suddenly wasn't having fun anymore in the winter wonderland. A neighbor had cleared the entire block with his snow blower bright and early this morning, so when I set Oliver down, he hit the ground running (well, toddling) down the sidewalk. It took him a couple of attempts to learn that the freshly-fallen, powdery snow in the snowbanks wouldn't support him when he leaned against them or put his arms out to brace himself. But once he realized how fluffy the snow was, he enjoyed swiping it with his mittens back onto the sidewalk. Luckily he's too small for that tiny pleasure to have been too counter-productive. While he explored the snow, I finished shoveling where the snow blower had missed and then chased Oliver down the street.
His dad will be proud. He'll be a snow-loving baby after all.
Thursday, February 10, 2011
Follow-up with the pediatrician
After Oliver's short stay in the hospital at the beginning of the week, we went to his pediatrician this morning for a quick follow-up. As a precautionary measure, he'd taken a steroid called dexamethasone the first two nights back at home to prevent the airways from constricting, (croup typically strikes at night) but didn't appear to have any lingering symptoms, so I wasn't surprised when the doctor declared Oliver recovered. While croup cases can range from mild to severe, the good news he said is that even cases serious enough to require hospitalization have a quick recovery rate.
Just as I had requested at the hospital, I had Oliver's pediatrician check his ears...just in case. Oliver has been infection-free since the beginning of the year, but with every tug of the ear, I become more paranoid. I feel like it's impossible to tell (given the symptoms Oliver displays at least) whether his extreme crankiness is an ear infection or just teething. After Oliver's front two teeth finally started coming in a few weeks ago, we had a period of good sleep and general good mood out of Oliver, but by this past weekend, he was back to displaying periods of being inconsolable. His ears looked good, though, but the doctor did notice what looked like emerging teeth on his bottom left gum line.
Just as I had requested at the hospital, I had Oliver's pediatrician check his ears...just in case. Oliver has been infection-free since the beginning of the year, but with every tug of the ear, I become more paranoid. I feel like it's impossible to tell (given the symptoms Oliver displays at least) whether his extreme crankiness is an ear infection or just teething. After Oliver's front two teeth finally started coming in a few weeks ago, we had a period of good sleep and general good mood out of Oliver, but by this past weekend, he was back to displaying periods of being inconsolable. His ears looked good, though, but the doctor did notice what looked like emerging teeth on his bottom left gum line.
Monday, February 7, 2011
Hospital Stay
Raising kids is never without an unexpected twist or turn. You send your kid to bed on a Sunday night and settle in early yourself so you are well-rested for the start of the week, never expecting that you'll start your Monday in the hospital. When Oliver woke us up with his crying shortly before 11:00 p.m. last night, I assumed it was another night terror and in my groggy state, hoped he'd settle down on his own. By the time I realized his awakening wasn't a routine part of his sleep cycle and had dailed his pediatrician's number I had programed in my phone, I already knew what we were dealing with: a case of croup.
Although croup is an upper respitory viral infection, similar to the common cold, I'd never heard of it before Oliver caught a minor case of it on Mother's Day last year, because it just affects babies and young children. The areas around the vocal cords (larynx) and windpipe (trachea) become inflamed, which presents itself as a simple case of laryngitis in adults, but can be more serious in young ones who have narrower airways. When coughing forces air through this narrowed passage, the result is a seal-like bark. But breathing can also be affected, which is why Oliver's case of croup was more serious this time around. In addition to the tell-tale cough, his breathing was noisy, including when he was breathing in. I had held the phone up to Oliver for the nurse to hear, and she had heard enough to tell us to skip the home remedies and go straight to the ER.
By 11:30 p.m. we were signing in at the ER at Children's Hospital in St. Paul and saw a doctor reasonably soon after that. They adminstered ephinepheron via an oxygen mask to open up his airways and took some x-rays to make sure something else wasn't causing problems (like pneumonia), and since Oliver's breathing sounded like it was improving, I thought we'd be on our way home after that. However, the doctor and nurses still weren't satisfied with his progress and were concerned about a relapse in symptoms, so they adminstered another dose of ephinepheron. That second dose then triggered admittance to the hospital for observation. It wasn't until 3:30 a.m. when we were finally settled into our room - Oliver nestled in the cage-like hospital crib and I sprawled out on the pull-out couch right next to him.
Although a stay at a hospital sounds serious, Oliver's was thankfully uneventful, even if it was tiring and boring. As can be expected, there was a lot of waiting around, but the nurses and volunteers at Children's Hospital were awesome. Poor Oliver cried at the sight of anyone stepping near him with a stethescope or thermometer, but everyone was super friendly and patient. A volunteer brought him a big box of toys and books to keep him entertained in our room since he wasn't allowed to play in the fun-looking playroom down the hall and nurses kept sippy cups filled, brought extra blankets for his crib, and let him choose his snack from the entire stock of cookies, crackers and other treats nurses keep for their littlest patients.
I couldn't believe that something seemingly as minor as croup landed Oliver in the hospital, but I was thankful that his stay was more a precautionary measure and that I knew he'd get better quickly. All around us were reminders that Oliver was most likely the healthiest kid there - kids in wheelchairs, glimpses of rooms redecorated as the nursuries from home and the tired-looking couple I saw waiting to be buzzed into the NICU who looked way too young to be parents. Luckily for us, just when we were becoming too restless, we were discharged. We went home and both took long naps.
Although croup is an upper respitory viral infection, similar to the common cold, I'd never heard of it before Oliver caught a minor case of it on Mother's Day last year, because it just affects babies and young children. The areas around the vocal cords (larynx) and windpipe (trachea) become inflamed, which presents itself as a simple case of laryngitis in adults, but can be more serious in young ones who have narrower airways. When coughing forces air through this narrowed passage, the result is a seal-like bark. But breathing can also be affected, which is why Oliver's case of croup was more serious this time around. In addition to the tell-tale cough, his breathing was noisy, including when he was breathing in. I had held the phone up to Oliver for the nurse to hear, and she had heard enough to tell us to skip the home remedies and go straight to the ER.
By 11:30 p.m. we were signing in at the ER at Children's Hospital in St. Paul and saw a doctor reasonably soon after that. They adminstered ephinepheron via an oxygen mask to open up his airways and took some x-rays to make sure something else wasn't causing problems (like pneumonia), and since Oliver's breathing sounded like it was improving, I thought we'd be on our way home after that. However, the doctor and nurses still weren't satisfied with his progress and were concerned about a relapse in symptoms, so they adminstered another dose of ephinepheron. That second dose then triggered admittance to the hospital for observation. It wasn't until 3:30 a.m. when we were finally settled into our room - Oliver nestled in the cage-like hospital crib and I sprawled out on the pull-out couch right next to him.
Although a stay at a hospital sounds serious, Oliver's was thankfully uneventful, even if it was tiring and boring. As can be expected, there was a lot of waiting around, but the nurses and volunteers at Children's Hospital were awesome. Poor Oliver cried at the sight of anyone stepping near him with a stethescope or thermometer, but everyone was super friendly and patient. A volunteer brought him a big box of toys and books to keep him entertained in our room since he wasn't allowed to play in the fun-looking playroom down the hall and nurses kept sippy cups filled, brought extra blankets for his crib, and let him choose his snack from the entire stock of cookies, crackers and other treats nurses keep for their littlest patients.
I couldn't believe that something seemingly as minor as croup landed Oliver in the hospital, but I was thankful that his stay was more a precautionary measure and that I knew he'd get better quickly. All around us were reminders that Oliver was most likely the healthiest kid there - kids in wheelchairs, glimpses of rooms redecorated as the nursuries from home and the tired-looking couple I saw waiting to be buzzed into the NICU who looked way too young to be parents. Luckily for us, just when we were becoming too restless, we were discharged. We went home and both took long naps.
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