Is this normal?

My son gave me a bloody nose today, again. Yes this is the third one so far, Chris has also succumbed to a few. Now if my son were a teen or a tween this would make an excellent show for Dr. Phil. We would go on, he would discuss control issues blah, blah, blah. However, Finnegan is a mere 14 months old, he none the less derives great pleasure from beating up the members of our household. Now I know boys can be a little rough but if I fear my son now, how will things be when he is bigger than me? (I am putting that at about 8 years old since I am 5'1'' and Chris is 6'2'') If we are on the floor with him he greatly enjoys slapping, scratching, kicking, nose and eye gabs and hair pulling. Even while I breast feed him, which is suppose to be a quiet activity, Finn has taken to pinching my underarm. He chases the dog around the house with his push kart and hitting her is followed my squeals of glee. Why do I have such a sadistic son? where is he learning this from? Neither Chris nor I are ultimate fighters, we don't take him to watch cock fights, we don't even have a TV! (No I am not a super mom, just poor.) Whats more troubling is that anything can become a weapon. Anything long instantly becomes and sword and anything small enough to be thrown could be flying at my head at anytime. I am quite concerned at what kind of man this violent little boy may become. And to all of you who are heckling me for more kids, just imagine what Finn would do to them!!

The Origins of Blankie

When I was young I had a bear. I drug that bear everywhere with me for years. Chris, though, was a blankie man. He had a blankie that had been patched beyond repair and barely resembled its former self. Finnegan has decided he will be a blankie man as well. He loves that blankie. But I am getting ahead of myself. Let me start at the beginning.

It was a rainy day in late June 2010. I was hugely pregnant and deep into the nesting phase. I had already been off work for almost two months so the house was meticulously clean and organized, the nursery painted and I was bored. Throughout my pregnancy I had the overwhelming urge to make things for the baby. I wanted to knit him hats and socks and sew him little outfits and build him toys. The only problem was that I don't knit, I'm not handy and my sewing skills are rudimentary at best. Still I decided I would make Finn a quilt. I picked out some black and white fabric to match the nursery (in hindsight white may not have been the best choice, but it was meant to be decoration) and with my mom's help and her sewing machine I set out sewing dozens of tiny squares together in an intricate pattern (ok maybe it wasn't that intricate). I was adamant though that I would do all the actual quilting by hand. I bought a bright pink quilting ring and went at it. It took many many hours, there were several crooked lines but in the end it turned out not bad. I was pretty proud.

When Finn was a few weeks old and had started sleeping in his crib I used it to keep him warm at night. Now please don't call the parenting police, I know you aren't suppose to put blankets in with the baby but I felt to bad leaving him all uncovered. Blankie became part of everyday bed time routine, and well the rest is history. Now blankie is the best parenting tool there is. Finn will sleep anywhere, can be put to bed by anyone as long as he has blankie. Just seeing it invokes the thumb in month ready for bed pose. He spends his day trying to climb the stairs or escape the play room in order to get to his blankie. Because you see, as a general rule, blankie is reserved for bedtime or naps only so as not to loose its magic. People congratulate me on what a good sleeper Finn is and I humbly take their praises. In reality though I think it has more to do with blankie then with anything I have done.

Blankie has been there through teething, colds, long drives and our recent ER visit. As cliche and corny as it may sound I like to think that Finn feels all the love and effort I put into this blanket in preparing for his arrival. I definitely did not anticipate that he would form such a strong bond with it. The only problem with blankie is that, of course, he is one of a kind. I know most parents go out and buy replacement stuffed animals or blankets in case something happens and they are lost or damaged, but there is no replacement blankie. I don' even want to think about what would happen if blankie were lost. So I would like to end by saying thank-you blankie for all you have done and please please please be with us for a long time to come.

E.R. Visit act 1

I must begin by saying that parents of sick children deserve a nobel prize or lottery jackpot or possibly both. I spent fifteen hours in emergency last night and they were definitely among the worst fifteen hours of my life. I can't imagine what parents of chronically sick children, especially babies must go through. So this may not be a harrowing tale but it is our story.

Scene 1: To go or not to go, that is the question
You may think that for a nurse this would be an easy decision, it is my job after all. However, my area of expertise is geriatrics, so not very relevant, and also it is very difficult to be objective when dealing with your own child. So I pondered this question all afternoon as the number of diarrheas he had (sorry to be graphic) rose steadily  from five to ten to fifteen. I told myself that he had had his vaccines a few days ago and that this was just a side effect. I became a lot more concerned when his bowel movements started to show traces of blood and mucous (again sorry for the details) just before supper time. I was suppose to work that night so I considered taking him to the clinic in the morning. I put him on the sofa while I made supper. Now anyone who knows my son knows that he cannot stay still for more that 3 seconds at a time. He laid quietly with his blankie for twenty minutes on the sofa. I was starting to be concerned so I decided to call Info-Santé and let them make the decision for me, it is there job after all. The nurse I spoke to was adamant that I take him to the E.R right away, so I put away supper, uneaten, called in sick to work (which I can ill afford to do), packed a diaper bag and we were off.

Scene 2 Patients is a virtue
I decided to go to the hospital that was closest to our house and to Chris' work so he could meet us there after his shift. That was my first mistake. They are renowned for their long wait times but I figured that with a baby we would get in quick enough. So we got there around 7:00pm. We saw the triage nurse who took his temperature, it was 39.8, very respectable. My thermometer at home read 36.7 (note to self: buy new thermometer). He was given tylenol and shipped out to the noisy and very brightly lit waiting room. I was lucky and he was being fairly good, sitting on my lap, not squirming to much but not falling asleep. At 9:00 his temperature was taken again, 37.8,  and he was returned to the waiting room. By now the tylenol had taken effect and he really wanted down to crawl around. I tried to reason with him, telling him the floor of the ER was not somewhere he wanted his hands to be, but he wasn't having it. So we waited and waited and waited somewhere around 10:15 he started to doze and fell asleep for about half an hour but was woken up as I tried to move because of an intolerable pain in my back. Chris arrived around 12:15 taking some of the burden of my back and we continued to wait, baby refusing to sleep. Finally, FINALLY at 1:30am, 6 1/2 hours after I arrived we were called in, in front of many people who had been waiting much longer (I did not make friends that night).

Scene 3 Shock and awe

The Doctor came and spent a grand total of 90 seconds with Finnegan. She quickly declared that he would spend the night, receive IV fluids, get blood tests and a lung x-ray (because of the cold he also had) and left the room. We were speechless. I must admit this is not what I expected. I was expecting something along the lines of ''give him pedialyte and if he isn't keeping anything down in the next few days or if his fever returns, come back.''  A few minutes later two nurses came in to put in Finn's IV. This, for me, had to be the worst part. Holding him down while they stuck him with the needle and he let out a god awful scream, was horrible. I wanted to cry. I held it together though and luckily the nurse was good and only needed the one try to get his blood and insert the IV. We were then quickly whisked of to radiology where I had to again restrain my poor dear boy who was so tired and confused by this point. You could see the ''why are you doing this to me mommy?"  look in his eyes. We were then settled in a bed and bassinet in observation bed 7 (lucky number 7!) By this time is was approaching 3:30am. It took a lot of coaxing but I managed to convince Finn to go to sleep. He slept fitfully on and off through beeping  IV machines and the constant hum of the ER. He woke up around 6 and I brought him into bed with me and we cuddled and played, and occasionally cried (him or me, it was unclear by this point) until 9am. We did not see another Dr till 9am. He also whisked in quickly, informed us that the blood work was ok, that Finn should eat and if he didn't throw up we could go home. So Finn ate a solid breakfast, I had the left overs (bear in mind we had not eaten since lunch the day before) and it seemed to go ok so after removing his IV we were on our way.

Scene 4 All is well that ends well
We got home around 11:30am and we all took a good long nap, had a good solid lunch and I think we are all on the mend. Finn had 5 or 6 diarrhea today but he was pushing his kart around the floor this afternoon so I think he is improving. With a very active little boy I am sure this is just the first of many trips to the emergency room on this crazy adventure of ours but I keep my fingers crossed that it will be the longest.

Now my friends, it is 9pm and I am more than ready for a nice long bath followed by bed.

PS I would like to sincerely thank blankie for all his help and support through this endeavour. Without you this would not have been possible.

The Joys of Snot

Last year Finn and I managed to escape cold and flu season relatively unscathed, due, no doubted,  to the fact that our grand total of excursions outside the house was our weekly groceries. This year, however we are not so lucky. It is only September and Finn has managed to contract a cold already. I suppose all the dirt eating hasn't worked as well as I had hoped (see the Truth about dirt). It is astounding the shear quantity of snot his tiny button nose can produce. No kleenex can keep pace. No matter what I do there always seems to be two long trails running down his face, or my personal favourite, the snot bubble. The giant billboard warning other parents to keep their children as far away from mine as possible. Snot just seems to be everywhere, in his food (or mine as he takes a bite), on his hands (which then go in his mouth), even on my sleeve (what can I say, there were no kleenex handy). And if a stuffy nose weren't bad enough, the only way my son has to sooth himself is by sucking his thumb, which is made impossibly difficult with a plugged nose. I am a big fan of saline nose sprays to try and loosen things up. Finn though is decidedly against them. Anyone who is walking down the street while I attempt to administer the spray is undoubtedly imagining the horrors I am inflicting on my child as his shrill screams fill the house. So in the end, all we really can do is suck it up, brave through a few sleepless nights and, well, a good dose of Tylenol never hurt anyone (or whiskey, we'll see how things go).

What the Vegetable!?

I am a huge foodie. Before we got rid of our TV,  I would have it constantly tuned onto the food network. So, needless to say, I was thrilled to find out my son would eat anything, and I mean ANYTHING. I have pictures of this boy eating my mussel brochetta with roasted asparagus. He loved raw zucchini, fish, curried anything and fruit fruit and more fruit. The only thing he didn't love was fried things like chicken nuggets and french fries. I thought I had hit the culinary jackpot. 

Then, a few weeks ago, it all came crashing down. Your highness has decided to be very selective about what goes in his mouth. Peaches used to be one of his favourites but recently he has been rejecting them. He would eat his entire  plate with little concern as to what he was actually eating, now he picks through and eats what he wants and leaves the rest. And more often then not ''the rest'' includes vegetables while ''what he wants'' is bread and pasta. Also, there is no way of predicting what will be a hit and what will be a miss. One day will be all about cheese, can't get enough cheese. The next day he won't touch the stuff and gold fishies will be the food of choice.

I guess my good fortune couldn't last forever and this all a part of raising a toddler. Hopefully this is just another one of many strange and baffling stages my dear son will grow through on this crazy adventure of ours. 

Daycare Drama

If I had the choice between being a stay at home mom or a working mom I would stay home with my little boy hands down. Unfortunately, if we hope to live in the comfortable manor in which we have become accustomed that isn't really an option. So, with this decision, I began my hunt for someone to watch Finn. If only I knew what I was in for. A public daycare was out of the question, since you have to put your name on a waiting list in junior high to have a hope of getting in. So armed with a list of in home daycares I started my calls.

The first lady I spoke with told me all about her beautiful house, large backyard... on a lake. All I pictured then was my son drowning while she was preoccupied with someone else's toddler. Her name was crossed of the list.

Next call was another woman. She told me all about her daycare. Proudly claimed that she had been doing this for over 30 (!!) years. Now quickly doing the math in my head, that would make her about 55 years old. Now I am 24 and have trouble keeping up with one toddler, how in the world is she suppose to take care of six? Another name off the list.

Next daycare I called was a husband wife duo. This may be sexist, but no man is looking after my kid. Now, in a large public daycare facility I would have no problem with a male educator but nowadays there are to many horror stories on the news and a wife would have no problem covering something up. So yet another name crossed of the list.

The final blow came when I found out a girl I went to high school with, whom I wouldn't trust to watch my goldfish, had opened her own in home daycare. If she was allowed to watch other peoples kids I could end up with ANYONE watching mine.

Things were looking pretty glum. Finally, I was so lucky to convince my sister-in-law to watch Finn. She is a stay at home mom with two small children of her own, and it has proved to be the perfect scenario for us. Flexible hours, which is nice because both my husband and I work crazy shifts. People I know I can trust. Other kids for Finn to play with and best of all a private babysitter for the price of daycare, what more can you ask for! I just hope she doesn't decided to go out and get a better paying job!!

So F*%$ing tired!

Before you become a parent you hear a few rumours of what it's about. People tell you that you probably won't sleep for more than a few hours in a row for the first couple months. You expect and accept this. What they don't tell you, however, is that in actual fact you will never sleep again, not ever. It starts in pregnancy, other parents may not tell you this but for the last three months of your pregnancy you will not sleep. It is suppose to be your last chance to catch up on sleep before the baby comes, you may even be off work like I was and be looking forward to all this extra sleep. Well I was lucky to get three consecutive hours. You are nervous, uncomfortable and hot (especially if you give birth in August). So you embark on this whole baby project exhausted from the get go.

Next, they say that hospital visiting hours are limited to a few hours in the afternoon and a few after supper. Let me tell you that no one will respect these hours. I am pretty sure everyone I ever met came through my room that first day at all  hours. I know you all mean well, my friends but I just pushed a baby from my body, please leave! Now I am going to give you a very valuable piece of parenting advice, if you listen to nothing else listen to this: when the nurse offers to take the baby out of your room and wake you up just for feedings the first night, for the love of god take her up on it!!! She isn't doing it to be nice, its her job. In fact if anyone, ever, offers to take the  baby and let you sleep take them up on it. I don't care if it is the in-laws or a hobo in the park, give them the baby!!! I tried to act tough, wanted to prove to myself and them that I could do this. I am and IDIOT!

Now comes the part you expected. Breast feeding every two hours (if you are lucky) all night long. Feeling like you could barf, pass out or both every minute of every day. Now I know it is cliché but the best piece of advice I can give you is to sleep when the baby sleeps. Don't worry about getting anything else done. You don't need to cook, cereal will become a main meal at this time and family will fill in the rest. If you are anything like me the house will already be very neat from all the late night cleaning sessions you had before the baby arrived so really the only reason your butt should ever leave the sofa is to pee or change the baby's diaper (even this should be passed on to others).

The other part those tricky veteran moms don't tell you is that even after your baby starts sleeping through the night (yupee!!) you still will not get any sleep. Sure Finn sleeps 10-11 hours at night but that means nothing. He is in bed by 7:30 and as much as I would like to I simply cannot fall asleep till 11 if I am lucky and then he will usually wake up once or twice a night simply to yell a few times, wake me up, then go back to sleep. I could't tell you why he does this only that I am not a fan!! Then of course he is up bright and early the next morning. Now I was never one to lounge around in bed all morning. School and my part time jobs usually required me to get up and about early enough (I had one job that started at 5am!). During this time, though I always had weekends or the occasional day off in which to sleep in. Those days are gone, and as far as I can tell they are never coming back. I have not slept in in 16 months. I am now told that I probably won't get that chance for quite a few years to come. Add a wonderful job working nights and I really do miss sleep. Just once it would be nice not to wake up in the morning to a screaming child. But alas it is not to be, at least not till he is old enough to go downstairs, turn in the TV and get himself breakfast, how old is that anyway?

The truth about dirt

As adults we spend hours trying to get rid of dirt. We sweep, mop, dust, do the laundry and wash our hands. We wage a constant battle against the stuff, sometimes we win, sometimes we loose. Now that I have a toddler I seem to loose a lot more than I win. He absolutely adores the stuff. I don't know if it's a boy thing or just a baby thing, but he can't get enough. He loves to dig in it, feel the sand run between his fingers, rub it through his hair. He enjoys filling up his bucket with it (or my shoe), he enjoys digging holes and splashing in the mud. At the end of most days his cloths are so dirty I can't distinguish what colour they  originally were. His favourite thing about dirt though, is eating it. I don't know what it is about the stuff that makes it look so damn tasty but he can't get enough. We'll be working in the garden and before I know it he will have shoved a handful in his mouth. The worst part is, he seems to enjoy the taste, even going back for seconds if he has the chance. I just hope that eating dirt has no long term side effects, its suppose to build up the immune system right? If thats the case then Finn should be free from colds this winter. I understand that babies explore the world through taste, but can't he be satisfied with just one bite?

MISSING: friends, reward for their safe return

I recently got a new cell phone plan. Unlimited calling to ten ''friends.'' I thought this was a great deal, until I sat down to write out my list and realized I could not come up with ten people that I would call. I must say that this made me feel rather pathetic. Now I was never miss popular in high school, but I did have lots of friends... I swear I did. If you look through my old albums and year books you can see me there pictured  with them. I have fond memories of these illusive friends. The question is where did they all go? Sure I have a die hard friend or two that managed to stick it out, but the others seem to have disappeared into thin air. Scattered from northern Alberta, to Winnipeg to Moncton. Employed in a number of things far to glamorous for this simple mom, and I must say I miss them. I miss the girl I have been friends with since kindergarten who has faded into a life I can't begin to understand. I miss one of my best friends who I lost touch with in college after a nasty roommate experience (I believe that lacrosse equipment may have been involved) and I even miss the ex-boyfriend who abandoned me shortly before prom. To most people high-school was the worst time of their lives, full of bullies and finals. I, however, loved it. I would give anything  to go back to those carefree days. I find myself now unable to connect with others my own age, since we are in such a vastly different places in our lives since I had the baby, yet unable to identify with other moms of young children who tend to be five or ten years my senior. True I did choose to become a mom at a young age and my dear son is definitely worth sacrificing these friends over I just think it would be nice to have a few extra numbers on my ten favourite numbers list.

Intro

Well here it is. Yet another parenting blog. Oh I know I join the ranks of thousands of others, from scary mommy's to bad dads. However, whether I end up with 2000 readers or 2 (I hope to at least convince my mom and husband to read) it really doesn't matter. I am doing this for me, and it is about damn time! I have been having a hard time lately, stuck in a job I absolutely hate, desperate for some reprieve. But what to do? What am I passionate about? What could I be doing with my life that would give me some purpose? Before the baby and had lots of hobbies. I used to play rugby. I can't do that now though, to much risk of getting hurt. I used to highland dance. The long drive to lessons and even longer one to competitions seems very impractical. Who has the time? I love to cook, but without a culinary degree I really can't hope for much more than a line cook at some chain restaurant. Finally it hit me. I love to read and write. It doesn't cost anything, can be done in my (limited) spare time and sure it probably won't make me the big bucks but I will start at the beginning and see where it takes me, you never know! I plan to try my hand at different kind of writing, newspaper articles maybe, I would love to write a novel one day and this blog. I have decided to call this blog the World According to Finnegan. For those of you who may not know Finnegan is my one year old son who never seizes to amaze me and will be the inspiration behind much of this blog. Finally the World According to Garp by John Irving is my favourite novel and is an example to the literary excellence I hope to one day achieve. So read and enjoy!