a little bit more about me

My name is Beth and I accidentally have found myself living in Arizona but I'm originally from Tennessee. My education is in history and anthropology, which means that I know a little about a lot of things and can hold my own at a cocktail party in mixed company. I work in museums, doing all sorts of things ranging from researching and writing exhibits to cataloguing absolute wickety wak. I love comedy, baking, photography, my daughter, dogs, and above all else, napping.*

* 2013 edit: Oh yeah, and my new son too.

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    Entries in baby (34)

    Thursday
    Jun052014

    A case of the mondays

    Two weeks ago, Baby got viral gastroenteritis for a couple of days and shared it with me for all of 8 hours while I was home from work with him, but we both recovered. Last Friday, as I was picking up Dawdler Toddler from daycare, she starts hurling. She had it all through the weekend, meaning we got nothing whatsoever done except tending to her. Side note: why is it that the weekends where I want to sit around on my arse and do nothing do not coincide with the weekends I get to do that? I had TONS of errands & stuff I desperately needed to get done, because I'd gotten nothing done being home from work with a sick Baby. 

    By Sunday, I was feeling very stressed - faced with missing even more work and still needing to get tons of stuff done outside of work, I texted every sitter as well as any contacts who could potentially serve as an emergency stand-in sitter, asking if by some random chance anyone could possibly watch her on Monday. I've been missing TONS of work with sick Baby. My Better Half doing fieldwork during the workweek means that I'm the only one ever available when daycare calls telling me Baby has a fever and has to leave, so I feel like I'm walking a fine line at work. I don't know if I am. Maybe I'm just super sensitive to the rolling eyes one of my coworkers gives me (a childless jackass) whenever I'm dashing out to grab a sick Baby or Toddler. Maybe I'm just super sensitive because it's performance review season and I'm paranoid that it might appear as if I'm not accomplishing much other than occasionally and unpredictably occupying a chair after returning from maternity leave this time around. Maybe I'm super sensitive because I have a new boss, who, while he has four children of his own, has never once experienced the "my kid has a fever above 100, so s/he has to be picked up from daycare within 30 minutes and can't return for at least 24 hours" because his wife has always been a stay at home mom. I'd like to believe that my work worries are all in my imagination but I'm not quite convinced that's true. But, alas, no sitters or would-be sitters were available. 

    So I crossed my fingers and held my breath and the next day, Dawdler Toddler seemed to be back to her normal self, and after being able to hold down her breakfast, I took her to daycare. And her Baby brother. Even though he had a fever. I didn't have an alternative, given that I had no sitter available. And I HAD to make an 8:30-10:30 meeting, if nothing else. So I just prayed that he was just running a low-grade, teething? minor thing? fever and would be fine. After having to wait in the morning to make sure Dawdler Toddler was okay enough to go to daycare, I was super late to work - more than an hour late. Let's just say the clock read 8:32 when I was getting ready to leave daycare for work. I got to work only to discover that my meeting was way far away in another building, so I was about 30 minutes late for that important must-not-miss meeting. And I was there about 25 minutes before daycare called and said Baby had a fever and was vomiting and had to leave.

    So I excused myself with yet another quick missive of "sorry! gotta run! I'll try to get in some work from home!" apology and dashed out. Got Baby, got him some Tylenol and he went down for his afternoon nap. That just dragged on and on and on. By late afternoon, after I'd picked up Dawdler Toddler from daycare, I was starting to get concerned. He seemed a little out of it, listless if you will. And his fever, rather than going down with Tylenol just kept going up. And he wasn't the least bit interested in eating anything at all. By the time his breathing seemed to be getting strangely irregular, I left My Better Half, home from 10 hours of fieldwork in 111 degrees, to put Toddler to bed while I took Baby in to the children's hospital, the only thing open at that hour. I get to the children's hospital and have a text from My Better Half saying: I have the stomach flu now too, can't stop throwing up, but keep me updated. I get us checked in and while we're waiting in triage, I start hurling. Repeatedly. 

    They kept an eye on Baby, checking his vitals every 20 minutes, trying to coax him into taking pedialyte (unsuccessfully), giving him medicine for nausea first in order to then administer more Tylenol so he could keep that down and then waiting for him to demonstrate that he wanted and/or could eat. They kept him far longer than I would have expected. Which is why I was more miserable by the moment. I couldn't stop throwing up, my stomach was doing somersaults, and I had nothing with me. Nothing. Not even a water bottle to go fill up, not a sweater to stave off the fever chills that were washing over me in waves. So every 20 minutes they came in to give him medicine and make sure he was improving and I'm getting worse by the second but they couldn't even so much as bring me a goddamn apple juice because I'm "not the patient." I get it on an intellectual level - liability of treating someone who's not a patient in this letigious world of defensive medicine we find ourselves in - but at a visceral, physical level I was furious. Your whole purpose as nurses and doctors is to help people feel better, and if mom is doing this horribly, how can she be expected to take in all the information you're giving about Baby's condition and respond?

    Why wouldn't I just text My Better Half and say "for chrissakes, bring me some gatorade?" you ask? Because we have one vehicle. One. With both carseats in it. So even if he would have wanted to drag Toddler and himself out of bed and then out of the house at an ungodly hour to come bring ME medicine at the children's hospital, he couldn't have. Not to mention he was throwing up at home too. 

    So all in all, I've managed to make it to work one whole day this week. My Better Half seems to have improved, as have I. Although now that he's back to working in 110 degrees, we'll see. Baby still has a fever and is vomiting and was seen again yesterday and will be seen again Saturday. So I'm not counting on getting ANYTHING done this week or weekend either. Good thing my folks are coming in town Tuesday. Oh wait, that means I gotta somehow clean & disinfect this disastrous house. And take 48 hours vacation time. Right before my annual performance review. I'm beginning to think the rumors circulating yesterday that anyone who was getting a raise this year got notification yesterday is true. Like that asshole coworker who shoots me a dirty look every time I rush out, scrambling to go get a sick kid, just doing my best not to lose it.

    Monday
    Jan272014

    One of these things is not like the other

    "Nurse's line."

    Hello. Yes, um, I'm a little worried about my 4 month old.

    "Ok. What's going on?"

    Uh, so, he's, well, sleeping. A lot. Like 8 hours at a time?

    "..."

    Well, can you blame me? My first didn't sleep like that for months & months & months.

    Thursday
    Nov082012

    So angry I could...

    The parenting issue that has given me the most grief so far is that my precocious, sweet, active little girl is.

    A biter.

    There. I said it. I know, I know, it's normal, age appropriate. Oh for f*ckssake. I just got another incident report from daycare while I was typing that.

    At first I thought "not my daughter! How could this be?!?" She doesn't bite at home, and, being the first born, doesn't have anyone *to* bite anyway. She is not aggressive, she is highly verbal & communicative, and at home, when she asks for something she can't have, she tends to work out her anger & frustration through fist-pounding tantrums & the accompanying wailing.

    So it was totally mystifying to us to hear that she's been biting. Repeatedly. So much that I've had to leave work to retrieve her from daycare because she's been released. Repeatedly. Like 2-3 times a week.

    It's usually the same. Right before a nap (read: tired), wanting a toy, she lunges out & Mike Tyson's someone. Okay. It's not thaaaaat bad (I hope) but still.

    At first, I would get to daycare all concerned - is the other child ok?? I'm SO sorry (and embarassed). They would say she's fine, the other child is fine, and you don't need to apologize. When it kept happening, I turned to the trusty interwebz and found it's totally normal, not to worry. When we saw the pediatrician for her 15 month checkup she told us the same thing. Still, it kept happening. I wasn't worried about it as a behavior anymore, just what it was doing to my good standing at work to be ducking out all the time. I can't overemphasize how big of a pain in the ass this is. For weeks now, I've had to tell my boss 'so sorry!! Gotta get her. Again.' I've missed more work than I am capable of calculating.

    As the weeks wore on, daycare no longer would say "no need to apologize!" It turned into more of an exasperated we need *you* to take steps to address this okay? attitude.

    What am I to do? I have said to my friends & family, why should I have to apologize to daycare for completely normal, age-appropriate behavior?! I'm not here when it happens. I'm not the one watching her at those moments. I'm not going to preemptively drug my kid with Tylenol because 'maybe she's teething?' Yeah. Right. Because pretending teething is the cause is going to help correct a behavioral issue. I understand that there are expectations on how she is to behave. And there are rules she must follow. And that you need to be able to protect the kids here from being hurt.

    But I am paying you, daycare, to meet your responsibilities too. To take care of her, which doesn't just mean keeping her from eating glass & running into traffic. It means helping her to understand boundaries, and learning what is expected of her. Is she just supposed to automatically know? It means teaching her what she can do *instead* of biting. Y'know, like "NO biting. Let's try 'F*CK OFF YOU DILLWEED! Or can you say 'NUT UP OR SHUT UP YOU SISSY ASS?'" It also means getting to know her, taking the time to be patient with her most exasperating toddler behaviors, and, knowing that her toddler behavior includes biting, so knowing that it's important that you take the time to keep a close eye on her when she is tired & frustrated so that you can proactively intervene and prevent the bad behavior. Look, I know there's 8 other kids. But you claim that part of the problem is that her behavior is a danger to those 8 other kids, so how about investing that little bit of extra attention her way at those times?

    I've tried to be patient with daycare. I've tried to be both non-apologetic and empathetic towards the perspective of the other kids' parents. In fact, just yesterday my friend's Facebook status was all about how upset she was that her daughter had been hurt by another child at daycare, and I was just far too ashamed to weigh in amidst the "WHAT THE F*CK? Bullies CANNOT be tolerated" bullsh*t. At this age, we aren't talking about "bullies." We're talking about children who are too young to be able to communicate effectively, who don't yet know how to share, and who are headstrong and bent on getting their way, come hell or high water.

    But today was the bombshell that "I'm just going to be honest. Lots of parents are very upset..." So here's where we got handed the bottom line: if she doesn't stop biting in 2 weeks, she's getting kicked out. I still am reeling.

    How is this even? WHAT THE F*CK?! Other parents are upset? OTHERS? Newsflash to them: cause it's a total joyride to feel like you are totally trying work's last reserves of patience to be having to leave all the time with no notice to meet the 30-minute pickup deadline. It's not at all frustrating to feel like I've little to no control over my otherwise decently-behaved toddler who never exhibits this behavior at home. And it's a pride-filled moment to hear that my daughter is USING HER INCISORS TO ATTACK OTHERS like some chimp chewing off some lady's face. What happened to an understanding that kids-will-be-kids and part of being a toddler amidst other toddlers means that they will sometimes fall down, get scuffed up a bit, get dirty, and, yes, get hit and bitten and scratched. Lest you think the shoe is always on the other foot, my daughter has been hit and bitten herself, and have I gotten all up in daycare's sh*t about how they failed to protect her? No. And parents? I'm sure you would agree that routine is critically important to your toddler, right? You may have noticed that inconsistencies and deviations from routine are upsetting and difficult for them to manage. Inconsistencies like, oh I don't know, how different teachers are there on different days and at different times, so maybe, just maybe it's within the realm of possibility that some teachers are better able to monitor and prevent my daughter's toothsome attacks than others? Yet I'm the one facing telling my boss tomorrow that perhaps I may need to take just a few vacation hours unexpectedly in the coming weeks - like, I dunno, ALL OF THEM? -  until I can make alternate arrangements for my toddler's care?

    I'm so angry I could bite someone.

    Tuesday
    Nov062012

    Election Day

    Today is election day, and I am thrilled. Not that we get to exercise our right to vote - although it is heartwarming to see the lengths that folks are going to in the wake of Sandy to exercise that right. But back to me, what I'm excited about is the end to an endless campaign. I'm over the robocalls, the mailbox full of campaign junk, the emails, and the ads. Dear God, the ads. I've forgone tv entirely for netflix for at least a month. Ever watch an entire TV series in one weekend? Cuz I have! (You totally should, by the way).

    When the Republican primaries started, Baby wasn't even born. Now, look at her:

    She walks, she runs, she eats with a spoon. She's even uttered at least 3 sentences ("Hi Kitties!", "Me up please!" and "Me and Daddy!"). Pretty self-centered, isn't she?

    But back to the election. Every time election year YEARS roll around I lose my mind thinking about all of the money that gets poured into an election. If you want to hurl, click here to see the 2012 numbers. Actually, I'll save you the math: Billions. Much of it inevitably wasted on the losing candidate. Imagine what could happen if those billions were spent not on nasty slurs and negative ads but on positive change. And I'm not talking Obama here. I'm talking about the potential impact that kind of money would make on the lives of individuals, families, and in communities if it were directed as charitable contributions to nonprofits intsead...

    Thursday
    Nov012012

    A Candy Hangover

    Last night was probably my last Halloween spent doing anything other than trick-or-treating for awhile. Next year Baby will be well past 2, and she will undoubtedly demand tromping around begging for the good stuff. After all, her first solid food was actually Peppermint Patty, given to her at four months when we came home from my BFF's wedding with mini York Peppermint Patties in hand, much to My Better Half™'s dismay startlement. (Yeah, I know, that's not a word).

    At any rate, Baby dressed up in a hand-me-down teddy bear outfit, but only for long enough for us to take this picture.

    As you can see, she HATED wearing a costume. So we took it off and she just handed out candy to the 4 or 5 trick or treaters we got in regular clothes. Even though she's cute in a costume, she's much cuter when not crying, so no costume it was. And that's fine with us.

    But here's something to make your trick-or-treating tummyache better. Don't lie, you know you stole some Tootsie Pops out of that bag!