(I'm so one of those uncool mothers... as if it weren't official before..."
My son has his first go round with the "omg... flesh eating diarrhea turned my booty to pepperoni pizza sans the cheese!" virus. You are welcome for the pretty accurate description.
He has had diaper rash before. Nothing compared to this demon though. Let me give you the "before" thoughts on diaper cream.
1.) Desitin STINKS! Literally and figuratively. I have no idea why people buy it. It smells awful. It sticks to your hands much better than it sticks to the baby's booty. And... well other than covering the redness for the full 10 seconds it lasts, I have no idea what it is actually supposed to do.
2.) Butt paste. I have to admit, when I went shopping for it, I giggled a lot. I'm totally the mom that would jump on the "butt paste" wagon just to be able to say "butt paste is the best!" And I really wanted it to be true. Turns out, it doesn't stink as badly as Desitin. Works a little bit better than Desitin. But sticks to the booty about as long. Not worth the money. My honest opinion about why it is so popular... If it is called "butt paste" it appeals to our junior high selves and let's be real, its more fun to buy. Whoever marketed this is genius. I'm thinking of inventing a lip balm that is called "Baby Butt Lips". You'd buy it. Don't act like you wouldn't.
3.) Balmex. In my opinion, the best over the counter there is. This stuff is a bit harder to rub onto the tiny tushee... but guess what? It sticks! And what now? It gets rid of the diaper rash! HOLD. THE. PHONE. You mean it does what it advertises that it should do?! Remarkable.
This brings us to Friday. Balmex rocks. All others fail miserably.
Then the pepperoni pizza booty enters the game. My son is screaming in agony as I poor cold water over his bottom. No wipes. Just water. That hurt him. Tear my heart out and play soccer with it. OMG
So... I thought, $40 copay for the after hours clinic is SO WORTH the prescription Nystatin (sp... dunno... don't care... wanted it). So we go.
And while waiting, my son goes all exorcist on me and I leave in two hospital gowns (one for the front... one for the back... no one wants to see anything I've got hidden underneath) and Sam in a "Arkansas Children's Hospital" onesie. Oh... and we got the prescription.
You can only give the cream 4 times a day. We follow directions. He had diarrhea at least 12,456 times that day. Does. Not. Compute.
So what's a girl to do for the other 12,452 diaper changes? (The math is right. Trust me.)
Enter Rikki. You see Vaseline has lots of great qualities... namely keeping the putrid mustard gas filled diarrhea from contacting already sensitive skin.
But it doesn't "heal." My trusty Balmex does.
You know what else does? Hydrocortizone cream.
A couple of spoonfuls of Vaseline. A couple of spoonfuls of Balmex (Skip the tube. Get the small tub of Balmex. It is worth it.) And a squirt or two of Hydrocortizone cream. Stir that around with a butter knife (or something else more genius) and VIOLA! Stamps out pepperoni butt.
Of course, the Nystatin played its vital role. But I slathered the other stuff on there like I was buttering a roll on Thanksgiving and MAN! Did I ever see much improvement!
That is all for my tails of butt creams, rubs, ointments, and salves.
Let the arguing ensue... I know there are die hard people out there who support the "lesser-than" diaper creams. This is just my experience.
Monday, March 7, 2011
Thursday, March 3, 2011
The Little Things in Life
I'm feeling rather emotional at the moment. I found out last month that one of my dear friends (Who lives far away and I haven't actually spoken with in months... but one that I will always consider "dear" regardless of life circumstances) has stage 3 brain cancer. She is my age and one of the most beautiful people inside and out that you will ever have the pleasure of meeting.
I've spent the last 45 minutes or so catching up on her blog. She uses her blog as an outlet and a way to manage her perspective. Anyway, just the thought of how real life gets just all of the sudden did a number on my emotions.
I have to say, being a mother in general has done a number on my emotions. There are so many times (and this really could be daily) that I just watch him doing the simplest things and I want to cry. Just because I'm so proud of him being so wonderful. How can one little human be that wonderful?
For instance, this morning, he didn't feel good. It was apparent he wasn't his normal jolly self. He wanted to be held and carried around, but I had to get ready somehow. So I got him a bowl of cheerios and his sippy cup of milk and sat him in the floor. He looked so happy (of course! it was food!) and I thought to myself, "What is ten minutes? I can sit and play for ten minutes..." So I did.
As we were sitting in the floor, he grabbed a handful of cheerios (he doesn't understand one at a time quite yet) and started to shove them all in his mouth. I said, "Sam, can momma have some cheerios?" And he continued shoving them in his mouth. I said, "So momma can't have one?"
This sweet little angel looked at me, spit some cheerios into his hand, and offered them to me.
How sweet is that?! He is a ripe bold 13 months old and wanted to share his cheerios so bad with his momma that he spit them out and offered them. I laughed and laughed. And politely declined.
We spent the rest of the time feeding each other cheerios. He was intent upon feeding them to me so I was equally intent on feeding them to him.
Back to the full circle of things, it breaks my heart to think Danielle may never get to experience moments like this. I feel comfortable typing my true feelings because if you know Danielle, you know she prefers candidness and full disclosure. She is such a strong person, if there is one person to kick this crap in the bunghole it will be her. She'll do it.
But she fully understands her diagnosis and odds. And my heart hurts for her all the way down here in Arkansas. And just reading about her story has put so many things in perspective for me today. I was offered the chance to go feed the homeless tonight with my church. And I'm going to. Me, Justin, and Sam are going to go share a little moment with some amazing people.
If you are a praying person, go ahead and add my sweet friend to your list. I promise she is just as amazing as I have described.
If you aren't a praying person, get on board. You are missing out on something amazing.
I've spent the last 45 minutes or so catching up on her blog. She uses her blog as an outlet and a way to manage her perspective. Anyway, just the thought of how real life gets just all of the sudden did a number on my emotions.
I have to say, being a mother in general has done a number on my emotions. There are so many times (and this really could be daily) that I just watch him doing the simplest things and I want to cry. Just because I'm so proud of him being so wonderful. How can one little human be that wonderful?
For instance, this morning, he didn't feel good. It was apparent he wasn't his normal jolly self. He wanted to be held and carried around, but I had to get ready somehow. So I got him a bowl of cheerios and his sippy cup of milk and sat him in the floor. He looked so happy (of course! it was food!) and I thought to myself, "What is ten minutes? I can sit and play for ten minutes..." So I did.
As we were sitting in the floor, he grabbed a handful of cheerios (he doesn't understand one at a time quite yet) and started to shove them all in his mouth. I said, "Sam, can momma have some cheerios?" And he continued shoving them in his mouth. I said, "So momma can't have one?"
This sweet little angel looked at me, spit some cheerios into his hand, and offered them to me.
How sweet is that?! He is a ripe bold 13 months old and wanted to share his cheerios so bad with his momma that he spit them out and offered them. I laughed and laughed. And politely declined.
We spent the rest of the time feeding each other cheerios. He was intent upon feeding them to me so I was equally intent on feeding them to him.
Back to the full circle of things, it breaks my heart to think Danielle may never get to experience moments like this. I feel comfortable typing my true feelings because if you know Danielle, you know she prefers candidness and full disclosure. She is such a strong person, if there is one person to kick this crap in the bunghole it will be her. She'll do it.
But she fully understands her diagnosis and odds. And my heart hurts for her all the way down here in Arkansas. And just reading about her story has put so many things in perspective for me today. I was offered the chance to go feed the homeless tonight with my church. And I'm going to. Me, Justin, and Sam are going to go share a little moment with some amazing people.
If you are a praying person, go ahead and add my sweet friend to your list. I promise she is just as amazing as I have described.
If you aren't a praying person, get on board. You are missing out on something amazing.
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
Update from the Turners
It has been a while since I updated and that is for good reason. Things are crazy busy at work, I've been traveling for work, and we are in the process of buying a house. Lots to do!
Oh yeah, and Sam started walking. That was pretty great! I was convinced the kid was going to wait until I started my week long adventure away from home but he started walking about 3 days before I left. But when I left, he was just okay at it. Now? Lordy! He still falls but its only when he gets excited. I left town with a baby and came back to a toddler! And I'm convinced he grew an inch while I was gone too. That sounds like I'm exaggerating but the kid could walk underneath our desk when I left and when I got back it was hitting him in the forehead when he tried!
So... work: It is so close to official that it hurts but I will be moving to an Assistant Director for Residence Life position at UALR effective July 1. I AM SO EXCITED! Seriously, it is ridiculous how excited I am. But I currently work at a small department and that means, if I want the promotion, I get to start working on it long before the pay increase takes place. This is totally fine with me (hello job security!) and this job is everything I love about my current job and more.
Oh... and I get to move OUT and into MY OWN HOUSE! Not that I don't love my current situation but I want so badly for Sam to have a yard and space to play inside as well. We close on this lovely house on March 15. Say a prayer for me! This house is down the road (just the right distance away) from Sam's grandma and papa. It is also down the road from a park. Wonderful neighborhood and right down the road from the softball fields (this is excitement for momma more than anyone).
And let me take a minute to tell you of the sweet wonders that are Sam. Seriously, this could be the sweetest kid ever. When he is ready for bed, it becomes apparent just because of how much he slows down. So I say, "Night night Sam?" and he'll say, "Nih nih". So I get him ready for bed, brush his teeth, and read him a book. Then I say, "Tell daddy night night." And most of the time he says, "Nih nih," waves, and tries to give Daddy a kiss. Then we go into his room and stand by his crib to pray. Before we pray he lays his head down on my shoulder. When I'm done praying, I say, "Amen." and most of the time he says, "min." Then he lays down in his crib, I cover him up, and say night night. And he doesn't fuss at all. Just goes to sleep.
How. Freaking. Precious!
Melt my heart Mr. Turner. Melt my heart.
And a video I may or may not have shared...
Oh yeah, and Sam started walking. That was pretty great! I was convinced the kid was going to wait until I started my week long adventure away from home but he started walking about 3 days before I left. But when I left, he was just okay at it. Now? Lordy! He still falls but its only when he gets excited. I left town with a baby and came back to a toddler! And I'm convinced he grew an inch while I was gone too. That sounds like I'm exaggerating but the kid could walk underneath our desk when I left and when I got back it was hitting him in the forehead when he tried!
So... work: It is so close to official that it hurts but I will be moving to an Assistant Director for Residence Life position at UALR effective July 1. I AM SO EXCITED! Seriously, it is ridiculous how excited I am. But I currently work at a small department and that means, if I want the promotion, I get to start working on it long before the pay increase takes place. This is totally fine with me (hello job security!) and this job is everything I love about my current job and more.
Oh... and I get to move OUT and into MY OWN HOUSE! Not that I don't love my current situation but I want so badly for Sam to have a yard and space to play inside as well. We close on this lovely house on March 15. Say a prayer for me! This house is down the road (just the right distance away) from Sam's grandma and papa. It is also down the road from a park. Wonderful neighborhood and right down the road from the softball fields (this is excitement for momma more than anyone).
And let me take a minute to tell you of the sweet wonders that are Sam. Seriously, this could be the sweetest kid ever. When he is ready for bed, it becomes apparent just because of how much he slows down. So I say, "Night night Sam?" and he'll say, "Nih nih". So I get him ready for bed, brush his teeth, and read him a book. Then I say, "Tell daddy night night." And most of the time he says, "Nih nih," waves, and tries to give Daddy a kiss. Then we go into his room and stand by his crib to pray. Before we pray he lays his head down on my shoulder. When I'm done praying, I say, "Amen." and most of the time he says, "min." Then he lays down in his crib, I cover him up, and say night night. And he doesn't fuss at all. Just goes to sleep.
How. Freaking. Precious!
Melt my heart Mr. Turner. Melt my heart.
And a video I may or may not have shared...
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
A few fun videos of the boy
This one if of Sam rocking himself on the ottoman...
This is Sam's first bite of fudgesicle... and his tongue going numb...
Sam loves to be scared. He finds it hilarious.
This is Sam's first bite of fudgesicle... and his tongue going numb...
Sam loves to be scared. He finds it hilarious.
Friday, January 28, 2011
Rollercoaster Post... Keep all hands and feet inside the cart!
You are in for a ride. You'll laugh, you'll cry, your jaw will drop... seriously comment if you don't experience all of these things while reading. And it is a long one. You may cry out of torture.
I told everyone I had an appointment for Sam's big fat head. I wasn't going to share it. I will now. It is February 8 at 9:15 am. Or so I thought.
My WONDERFUL (not sarcastic... seriously wonderful) pediatrician's nurse called me yesterday afternoon to make sure I had finally gotten my appointment time. I thanked her and told her I did find out just Wednesday. To be safe, I wanted to make sure we had the same time. She said, Feb. 8 9:15am. I said yes. Then she goes on to say, "And the CT scan is at 3:30pm."
Ummm... WHAT?! So that's what I said. "Umm what CT scan?" Of course, my nurse doesn't know, she is just giving me the information they gave her. Not me. They gave my pediatrician's nurse the information concerning exposing my child to radiation. Not me.
I'm pissed.
So... I dial as fast as my fingers would dial the neurosurgeon's office. I ask for a nurse. I'm told I can't speak to them, they'll have to call me back. I then ask receptionist how they conveniently left out that I had another appointment that same day and that it involved a CT scan. She says,"Well CT scans are just protocol." I don't give a flying squirrel's crap what protocol is, you haven't even seen him yet! I tell her this in no uncertain terms and she says, "Well they will get you in sooner than 3:30pm".... like my problem here is that my afternoon will now not be filled with unicorns and rainbows... UNNECESSARY RADIATION IS MY CONCERN HERE! MA'AM!
After several times of me repeating myself, crying, shaking, wanting to vomit... she finally gets it. And she says to me... "Well ma'am, you would want to know if something is wrong with your baby. You wouldn't want to miss something just because you were afraid of a little radiation would you?"
Yes she did. She went there.
I then kindly explained to her that while she may do this everyday, it isn't her son she's doing it to, and I could give a rat's ass what they do every day, how little radiation it is, or whose left butt cheek I have to kiss to get some answers, but until someone gave me an actual reason other than "puppy" protocol (Puppy is my nice word to replace the mean one's I really want to say) then my son was not having one done.
Before you guys think I've really lost my mind here, put yourself in my shoes. Sam's grandpa died of a brain tumor... BRAIN TUMOR. Both of Sam's grandmas have blood cancer. He has one grandparent who has not had cancer of some sort. He has two great grandparents who have not died or at least had cancer of some sort.
He has two parents with fat heads. He has no symptoms of hydrocephalus except for said fat head.
Anyone else seeing that this CT scan is a big waste of time and much more of a risk than his freaking fat head?! Anyway...
It is at this time she offers to let me speak to a nurse. Funny, I think I asked for that 20 minutes ago.
She comes back on the line to tell me the nurse is busy and her advice is just to come see the neurosurgeon at 9:15 and express my concerns to him. I ask if she can leave a number for the nurse to call me back b/c I'm not coming until someone explains this to me. She says... wait for it... "Well I can but I can tell you right now she won't call you back."
THEN WHAT THE PUPPITY PUP IS SHE DOING WORKING IN PEDIATRICS?!!!?!?!?!
I am a hysterical mother, pissed beyond belief, concerned for the welfare of my melon-headed son, and you are going to intentionally leave me hanging?! Go work for geriatrics... their parents are dead, you don't have to call them back.
So I gingerly hung up, my BFF is trying to help anyway she can (but doesn't know how b/c I've lost my friggin mind), my husband walks in, I fill him in and he asks for Dr. Pediatrician's number.
Our pediatrician ROCKS and gives us his personal cell phone number. Justin calls. Dr. P calls back and says, "No that is ridiculous. There is no reason for CT scan yet, they haven't even seen them. Come in tomorrow morning and I'll measure both of your heads and do a plot and see if any of this is necessary."
He did remind us this is NOT his expertise, but he'd do his best b/c he's not okay with unnecessary radiation either.
We go in this morning... Sam's head is big as always. My head is big. And Justin's head is GINORMOUS (quoted from Dr.P ...love him).
If you know your statistics, for something to be statistically significant, you have to have at least two standard deviations. My head was 2.5 standard deviations above normal for my age. Justin's was FOUR! BAHAHAHAHAHA... he's a fat head.
But guess what? So is my son! And me too... but just not to the extent they are. So... moral of the story is... Fat heads just run in our family! No neurologist appointment (which is really good for them too if you think about it... I was not happy with them)! Dr. P is just going to keep a close watch on it and we'll go from there.
YAY FAT HEADS! I think we'll all be pumpkin-heads for Halloween this year. I love irony.
I told everyone I had an appointment for Sam's big fat head. I wasn't going to share it. I will now. It is February 8 at 9:15 am. Or so I thought.
My WONDERFUL (not sarcastic... seriously wonderful) pediatrician's nurse called me yesterday afternoon to make sure I had finally gotten my appointment time. I thanked her and told her I did find out just Wednesday. To be safe, I wanted to make sure we had the same time. She said, Feb. 8 9:15am. I said yes. Then she goes on to say, "And the CT scan is at 3:30pm."
Ummm... WHAT?! So that's what I said. "Umm what CT scan?" Of course, my nurse doesn't know, she is just giving me the information they gave her. Not me. They gave my pediatrician's nurse the information concerning exposing my child to radiation. Not me.
I'm pissed.
So... I dial as fast as my fingers would dial the neurosurgeon's office. I ask for a nurse. I'm told I can't speak to them, they'll have to call me back. I then ask receptionist how they conveniently left out that I had another appointment that same day and that it involved a CT scan. She says,"Well CT scans are just protocol." I don't give a flying squirrel's crap what protocol is, you haven't even seen him yet! I tell her this in no uncertain terms and she says, "Well they will get you in sooner than 3:30pm".... like my problem here is that my afternoon will now not be filled with unicorns and rainbows... UNNECESSARY RADIATION IS MY CONCERN HERE! MA'AM!
After several times of me repeating myself, crying, shaking, wanting to vomit... she finally gets it. And she says to me... "Well ma'am, you would want to know if something is wrong with your baby. You wouldn't want to miss something just because you were afraid of a little radiation would you?"
Yes she did. She went there.
I then kindly explained to her that while she may do this everyday, it isn't her son she's doing it to, and I could give a rat's ass what they do every day, how little radiation it is, or whose left butt cheek I have to kiss to get some answers, but until someone gave me an actual reason other than "puppy" protocol (Puppy is my nice word to replace the mean one's I really want to say) then my son was not having one done.
Before you guys think I've really lost my mind here, put yourself in my shoes. Sam's grandpa died of a brain tumor... BRAIN TUMOR. Both of Sam's grandmas have blood cancer. He has one grandparent who has not had cancer of some sort. He has two great grandparents who have not died or at least had cancer of some sort.
He has two parents with fat heads. He has no symptoms of hydrocephalus except for said fat head.
Anyone else seeing that this CT scan is a big waste of time and much more of a risk than his freaking fat head?! Anyway...
It is at this time she offers to let me speak to a nurse. Funny, I think I asked for that 20 minutes ago.
She comes back on the line to tell me the nurse is busy and her advice is just to come see the neurosurgeon at 9:15 and express my concerns to him. I ask if she can leave a number for the nurse to call me back b/c I'm not coming until someone explains this to me. She says... wait for it... "Well I can but I can tell you right now she won't call you back."
THEN WHAT THE PUPPITY PUP IS SHE DOING WORKING IN PEDIATRICS?!!!?!?!?!
I am a hysterical mother, pissed beyond belief, concerned for the welfare of my melon-headed son, and you are going to intentionally leave me hanging?! Go work for geriatrics... their parents are dead, you don't have to call them back.
So I gingerly hung up, my BFF is trying to help anyway she can (but doesn't know how b/c I've lost my friggin mind), my husband walks in, I fill him in and he asks for Dr. Pediatrician's number.
Our pediatrician ROCKS and gives us his personal cell phone number. Justin calls. Dr. P calls back and says, "No that is ridiculous. There is no reason for CT scan yet, they haven't even seen them. Come in tomorrow morning and I'll measure both of your heads and do a plot and see if any of this is necessary."
He did remind us this is NOT his expertise, but he'd do his best b/c he's not okay with unnecessary radiation either.
We go in this morning... Sam's head is big as always. My head is big. And Justin's head is GINORMOUS (quoted from Dr.P ...love him).
If you know your statistics, for something to be statistically significant, you have to have at least two standard deviations. My head was 2.5 standard deviations above normal for my age. Justin's was FOUR! BAHAHAHAHAHA... he's a fat head.
But guess what? So is my son! And me too... but just not to the extent they are. So... moral of the story is... Fat heads just run in our family! No neurologist appointment (which is really good for them too if you think about it... I was not happy with them)! Dr. P is just going to keep a close watch on it and we'll go from there.
YAY FAT HEADS! I think we'll all be pumpkin-heads for Halloween this year. I love irony.
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