May 19, 2006

Welcome to Parenting101

UPDATE:

SO, my neighbor had small bunny ears that I can dye, and I am looking for a feather duster tail... THANK YOU BJ, Suz, and Caltechgirl!


I got an email last night that I saw this morning - for the big end of the year thing at Happy Montessori, the kids in Bear's class are singing a song. Apparently, they can dress up as forest animals. Bear told me that he's going to be a fox.

The thing? Is tomorrow morning.

Anyone know where to find fox ears on the fly? (the children are not supposed to be wearing costumes, according to the note. Just regular clothes in appropriate colors, face paint, and ears or wings).

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April 20, 2006

Birds and Bees

As we were leaving for school this morning, Bear excitedly pointed out two birds 'fighting' on the front lawn.

"Mommy!" he shouted, pointing.

Now, it should be said that Bear's class has two finches - Batman and Princess Leia - who laid 14 eggs last month. So you'd think... but, no.

"Uh, honey... they aren't fighting..." I murmured, hustling him into the van.

"Well, they're being loud!" He complained. "And the big bird isn't showing respect!"

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April 19, 2006

Visit to the Past

OK (I write, as I nibble some MORE chocolate)... so the flip of going to hell is?

No, too easy.

But I did take Bear and CD to the Cathedral for Easter services. I hadn't been back in almost 10 years, since I quit.

I'd forgotten how beautiful the place is. Breathtaking.

It was Bear's first Communion. We practiced on Friday, the whole kaboodle. Time came, we got in line and up we went.

Priest gave Bear the wafer. He forgot to say "Amen", but being such a great kid he did say "Thank You".

He cupped the wafer in his hands all the way back to the pew. Finally, he looked left. Looked right. And nibbled it.

And immediately spit it out.

"Mommy!" Bear announced in a loud whisper. "This thing is NOT yummy!"

I practically laughed the wine out my nose.

CD was a certified angel. He tood Bear out a couple of times as the service drifted on for about an hour and a half. (Bear's internal "We're done" buzzer went off at 45 minutes.) The orchestra, choir, pagentry all entraced him for a bit but then he bagan to squirm mightily.

And when the lady behind us began to sing very loudly and off-key, poor Bear just about lost it. He has an incredible sensistivity for key and pitch -which he does NOT get from us - and CD swooped him out before our favorite red-headed critic actually turned around and said something. (And he would have.)

After services, I gave the guys a 2-cent tour. Secret gardens and passage ways and the elevator to my old office. It was all very nostalgic and somewhat lost in time. I felt detached for most of it, and then suddenly would realize I was misting up.

"Mommy!" Bear asked, marching down a hallway lined with photographs. "Do you know these people?"

"Some," I told him. Pointing out the Bishop, a few priests. Bear reached up and touched the frames and I lifted him into my arms for a hug.

Then we made our way out into the spring drizzle. Back to the car. Back to Dee's for lunch. Back to the now.

Although I will admit a bit of me is still there. Lost in ....

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April 01, 2006

Too funny.

It rained here the last couple of nights - along with a thick sprinkling of thunder and lightning. As I came to bed, a particulary loud 'BOOM' shook the house.

From across the hall I heard his small, tired voice; "Mommy?"

"Yes, Bear?"

"Could you please tell God to turn it down? I'm trying to sleep here."

(I guess I'm the last one in the house still scared of thunderstorms, then!)

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March 20, 2006

In The Middle of the Night

So Bear likes Calvin and Hobbes. I am not sure he understands all the concepts, but he digs the tiger.

I gave CD a Calvin and Hobbes book last Christmas, and Bear will bring it to me and ask we read some of it together.

He loves the "unique" snowmen.

His favorite is the one where the one snowman is made to look like he's just bowled a strike with the other snowman's head. He giggles so hard at the one that he starts to snort.

Or the one where one snowman is eating snowcones and the snowman is lying face down with an ice cream scoop in his back.

I was checking on Bear just a minute ago, tucking his comforter around him. He's wearing his Spiderman jammies and then over it, one of CD's t-shirts (magical Daddy shirts made good sleepers). I stroked his still-a-little-chubby cheek and kissed his head.

He blinked up at me.

"Did it snow tonight?"

"No, sweetie. I think the clouds passed over," I whispered back. "No more snow this year."

"Poor Calvin," he mumbled. "No more snowmen." And he gave me a ghost of a grin before burrowing back to sleep.

God, thank you for my miracle Bear.

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February 08, 2006

Bears say the darndest things

This afternoon, in the car:

Me: What do you think we should get Elia for her birthday?

Bear: A hairdryer.

Me: A... what?

Bear: A hair blower thing, you know? A Hair Dry-y-ER. Her old one is broken.

Me: Uh, it is?

Bear: Yes. We could get one at the place where, you know, we got my Transformer last time.

Me: Uh, Target?

Bear: Yes... and one of those coupons, too, so she can pick out something.

Me (Just dumfounded at this point, was it just last week that he thought a rock was a great gift?): You mean a gift certificate?

Bear: YES. That's what I meant. And I will paint her a nice card.

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February 02, 2006

Paint the Sun

Me to Bear this morning: I'm really tired of gray skies, buddy. Wouldn't it be nice if we got some sun?

Bear to me: Well, Mommy. How about when I get home we'll paint the sun on a BIG piece of paper from the craft store and you can tape it on the window?

Me: Wow, that's a great idea, Bear. The only thing is that pictures don't glow and feel warm...

Bear: No, but we can put all the lights on and then you can hug me and we'll make cupcakes.

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January 27, 2006

She's Pissing Me Off

Bear's school, the highly expensive Happy Montessori School in Poshville, is really pissing me off.

Actually, it's the "Hi I have 4 advanced degrees" in-house learning specialist, Mary, that is doing the pissing. And I am just about ready to start fighting back.

So, she called today to find out if we've enrolled Bear in Occupational Therapy yet. We'd agreed at the meeting at the school last week that we would follow up on her recommendation that Bear get an OT evaluation and she was looking for status.

Mary has been working with Bear for about an hour each week for the past 3 months. She has been providing him with tutoring in reading and writing during school hours.

I told her about Bear's doctor's appointment on Wednesday. How Bear's pediatrician gave him all these milestone tests in the exam room - and passed with flying colors. Bear wrote his name legibly (with his left hand - with his right, he piled the letters vertically), draw shapes, numbers, and point out words by first-letter keying (She told Bear her first name was "Jane" and Bear looked around and correctly pointed out her name on her prescription pad by looking for a word that started with the 'J' sound.)

She was very impressed that on Tuesday, Bear's school buddy had told Bear hisphonenumber and Bear had written it down correctly and then, after school, had solemnly stood in my office and dialled the number so he could invite his buddy over to play. (Hey, that impressed me too)

(Insert joke about buying a 5 year-old his first cell phone here.)

The learning specialist huffed at me that, in her educated opinion, Bear is still having fine motor difficuties and problems getting himself situated in his space to write. She said that he'd had a lot of trouble getting small flashcards in and out of a box in the correct order and direction.

I reminded her that, as we told her last week, we've switched over to an HMO (to control our out-of-pocket healthcare costs). The pediatrician has to make the refferal in order to get the OT evaluation paid for by insurance.

And hey, I dutifully took Bear to the pediatrician's office just for this purpose. And the pediatrician is a good doctor. And I think it is actually a good sign that she wants to do some research before she makes the referral.

She snapped at me that she had to go and hung up on me.

When I picked up Bear today from school, I asked about the flashcards as part of our usual "how was your day" conversation on the ride home. Bear said that the learning specialist had accidentally dropped the cards in the hallway as they'd walked to her office and he'd helped her pick them up. He told me that she liked them to go in the box in a special way, so he'd had to take some out and put them back in again. And that the big kids had been coming in from recess and had been careful not to step on the cards.

And I'm like.... what the fuck?

Bear can actually shuffle cards - rudimentally, sure, but let me tell you - he is pretty good at it. So I am just completely confused now. CD told me that a couple of the other parents he was talking to during some volunteer time they were doing both had their kids in OT on the school's recommendation as well.

So I am Really. Confused.

And a slow burn starting.

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January 16, 2006

Martin Luther King Day

So I was explaining to Bear about Martin Luther King while we waited in line at the water park.

Wait, let me back up.

Once upon a time, in our pre-Bear days, CD and I had volunteered for a business trip to Memphis. We drove down from dreary Chicago, into the hot sun.

In between visiting the ducks that waddle to the elevator at the Peabody Hotel and checking out the glorious kitsch that is Graceland, we visited the Lorraine Hotel (now a museum) - where Martin Luther King was killed.

We entered happy tourists; we left thoughtful and sad. I don't think, until we stood on the spot where he was shot, that either of us had ever really let the enormity of the Civil Rights Movement and Dr. King's impact on the world really inhabit either of our consciousnesses. I mean, I know from my perspective I always just took him for granted as an American icon.

But he wasn't an icon, he was a man. Flawed and real and that much more amazing to think of it. Dr. King was only 39 years old when he died. He changed the world in such a short life. 35 when he won the Nobel Peace Prize. The night before he was shot, he'd given the "I've been to the mountain top" speech, that so resonated with mortality, with wisdom, with perseverance, with righteousness. And, as so many have noted, with a prescient text that still reverberts today:

Well, I don't know what will happen now. We've got some difficult days ahead. But it doesn't matter with me now. Because I've been to the mountaintop. And I don't mind. Like anybody, I would like to live a long life. Longevity has its place. But I'm not concerned about that now. I just want to do God's will. And He's allowed me to go up to the mountain. And I've looked over. And I've seen the promised land. I may not get there with you. But I want you to know tonight, that we, as a people, will get to the promised land. And I'm happy, tonight. I'm not worried about anything. I'm not fearing any man. Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord.

I told Bear that Dr. King had lived in a time when how you looked determined where you could live, and where you could go, even what jobs you could have. I told him that Dr. King had walked in the front row of a revolution, that he had said that all people are equal, are humans. That he'd said that all people are sisters and brothers and should share the planet in peace, with opportunity for all.

We were waiting in line at the indoor water park when we were finishing up our conversation. Bear looked around.

He asked: Like this water park?

I said: Yes, like they had rules who would be allowed here.

He looked at me, completely and utterly disbelieving.

It's true, I assured him. When Dr. King was born, they had rules and it was all about how you looked on the outside. And the police put Dr. King in jail 30 times for saying that people should stick together, and protect each other's rights, and never be judged for what they are on the outside.

Bear reached up an touched his bright copper hair tentatively. His expression thoughtful, he glanced at all the people standing in line - people of every kind of description.

And as Bear lost himself in thought, I realized that in the pantheon of my parenting decisions - introducing Bear to the concept of racism and the Civil Rights movement while in line at a water park may have not been the brightest parenting decision I had ever made.

But then Bear huffed out a breath and gave me that deeply wise 5-year-old nod and said: Mommy, that's the dumbest thing I ever heard.

And I knew he got it.

Happy 75th Birthday, Dr. King.

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December 15, 2005

What a Bear believes

So, CD's from Iceland. Born and raised. And in Iceland, Christmas is celebrated not just with Santa but with the Jólasveinar (YO-la-sway-nar).

To sum up: for about 900 years two evil trolls - Gryla and her second husband Leppalúði, who live in a mountain cave - have been playing mean tricks on the folks of Iceland. About 500 years ago they had kids, lots and lots (some say around 60) little (like elves) and very strange male children. (Don't think Disney dwarves, these guys have a streak of scary in them).

Each year during mid-Advent (either 9 or 13 days before Christmas) Icelandic children the world over start putting their boot in their bedroom window. And each night, one of the strange and gnomish Jólasveinar will leave a small gift for the child (if he or she has been good) and play a trick on the adults of the house (like steal the ham or slam a door).

There is lot about this season that people celebrate. I've tried to focus on the generousity of St. Nicholas of Myra, the miracle of Chanukah, and the blessing of Jesus and his birth story .... and, the rest? Well, we've let Bear be exposed to it all - from Kwanzaa carols to the science behind the solstice.

Bear will go his own way, as always, and he has happily blended Santa and Rudolph and Jesus Christ and the Jólasveinar and Frosty the Snowman together with our practiced traditions like Advent supper and Christmas crackers (the kind that pop) and decorating the tree and lighting the sacred candles and the Christmas pagent into a his own, unique, mythology of the season.

All of which he firmly, and deeply, believes.

And from his faith in it all, CD and I are constantly reminded what the season truly means. Bear reflects to us the miracle of faith. Of believing in things that you can not prove. In things that make no sense. In things outside yourself. In goodness. In love. In elves. In Christmas.

Some grown-ups keep that lesson close to their hearts all the time. But CD and I - what with all the busy running around and ranting and being stressed and all - well, we misplaced our map back to Whoville along with the frigging checkbook some weeks ago....

This morning was the 3rd night of the Jólasveinar. At 4AM, CD heard Bear moving around and went into his room to check what was going on. He found Bear out of bed by the window, excitedly hugging the gift he'd found in the boot.

"A Transformer! Scattorshot!" he crowed. "The Jólasveinar knew I loved Transformers, Daddy! He knew it!"

CD told him that he had to leave it until morning and go back to bed. Reluctantly, Bear gave up the toy to his father and climbed back up into his bed. He slipped back under the covers, and CD kissed him good night.

While CD pulled the door closed, he saw Bear lean towards the window with the empty boot in it. He stood, watching, making sure Bear wasn't about to sneak back out of bed.

And Bear wasn't.

As CD watched, Bear whispered "Thank you" to the window where the Jólasveinar had been. Just in case he was still out there, just in case he could hear.

CD, who'd remembered that he'd forgotten to buy gifts the day before. CD who had grumbled and grunted and run out to the store... found himself misty-eyed outside his son's door....

And when he told me, later, I felt it, too. And we both remembered what we'd forgotten in all our worry about jobs and money and lawyers...

It's Christmas.

And he puzzled three hours, till his puzzler was sore.

Then the Grinch thought of something he hadn't before!

"Maybe Christmas," he thought, "doesn't come from a store.

"Maybe Christmas ... perhaps ... means a little bit more!"



And what happened then...?

Well ... in Who-ville they say

That the Grinch's small heart

Grew three sizes that day!

~ Dr. Suess (How the Grinch Stole Christmas)

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December 09, 2005

Naked

So. A girlfriend of mine was talking the other week about some kids that she knows and how they see their parents naked on a fairly regular basis (I guess the parents sleep in the nude and the kids are very casual about that and it shocked my friend). She told me about it in that "Can you believe those evil troll parents?!" tone of voice and vented about how it was inappropriate, and how some people just didn't know about setting up boundaries.

I gave her the stink eye. As best I could over the phone. Perhaps not that effective, but the thought was there.

"Bear sees me naked just about every day," I told her.

"He does not," she denied, a bit of the nasty in her voice.

"Okay, think about it. We got one bathroom in our house and it sits between the two bedrooms."

"Oh, like you don't close the door."

"Seriously. Every morning I take a shower, and I leave the door open because CD has already left for work so I need to be able to hear the Bear," I point out. "And sure as God made little green apples, the sound of my shower wakes him up with an urge to pee and in he comes. And you know that he's going to stick his face around the shower curtain to make sure it's me in there. No matter how many times I tell him not to do that."

"You need to make sure he knows that it is wrong to peep on you in the shower."

"Wrong?" If I knew how to verbally lift an eyebrow, just one, I so would have.

"Wrong. After a certain age it is wrong to be naked in front of your children, especially those of the opposite sex."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why is it wrong?"

"Are you serious?"

"Yes. Explain it to me."

We were quiet for a long moment. "He isn't respecting your boundaries," she said.

"Yes, and that IS a problem. But not the naked. The naked is not the problem. Bear loves to be naked, he thinks his body is a miracle, and we're all for that. Bodies are miracles."

"By 5, though..."

"What? Are we talking sexuality or nudity? Because they are different topics. Someone tries to get sexual with my kid, and I'm taking a cleaver to them. But I think that the nudity level we have in the family is really quite healthy. We happen to be fairly modest people in a house full of windows so it's not like we're prancing about doing interpretive ballet in our birthday suits. Well, not CD and I - Bear would be naked all the time if let him but that's just not feasible."

"So you admit there are standards?"

"What is there to admit? I mean, naked because you're changing or bathing is very appropriate. Sleeping naked when it is 100 degrees out is more than healthy - it's a necessity. Naked because CD and I are being intimate? That's completely unacceptable. Do we flaunt our bodies? No. But I don't lock Bear out of my room in the mornings when I am getting dressed, either."

"And that's teaching him not to respect the privacy of his body or yours. You're desensitizing him to sexuality," she accused.

"Are you kidding me?"

"I'm serious, Elizabeth."

This has just been bugging me ever since. Does nakedness hurt children after a certain age? And if so, why?

Reminder....

It's "de-lurking Friday", so please let me know you were here and I'll do the same for you! Thanks.

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November 23, 2005

Signposts

parisisgnposts.jpg In Paris, there were these great old-fashioned signposts. Crazy roads with no lanes and drivers with homicidal bents, sure. But great signposts.

Eiffel Tower thisaway. Notre Dame thataway.

I wish life had these kinds of signs.

Bear loves Happy Montessori. And being non-dominant (they used to say ambidextrous) and learning all his fine motor skills with both sides thankyouverymuch, we wanted him in Montessori. An educational approach that is designed to be non-pressured, strong language focus, and most of all, child-centered.

Because his birthday is September 6th, Bear missed the public school deadline for being in Kindergarten this year. We could tell that Bear wasn't quite ready, in any event. Since Happy Montessori doesn't have to follow the same guidelines as public schools, Miss G - his sweet triathalon-running pigtail-wearing teacher of 3 years - talked with us and suggested that we move Bear into the all-day program that Montessori has instead of Kindergarten this year and then just keep Bear there for 2 years if we felt he wasn't ready for first grade next year. She said that this way he would spend his afternoons in the company of his favorite group of kids - the one he'd been in class with since he was 2.

It was with a conflicted heart that we decided to allow it.

A few weeks after Bear started staying in the afternoons; Miss G called me and said that Bear was struggling a little with retaining his morning lessons into the afternoons. Retention not being a big issue that I had seen at home ("Mom, 6 months ago you said I could take swimming lessons....") I chalked it up to stamina - going from a 3-hour day to a 6-hour one.

Then she called a couple of weeks later and said that Bear's non-dominance meant neither writing hand had the fine-motor development of most of his peers and that she was concerned. I reminded her that this was one of the reasons why we decided he was getting two years of the 'kindergarten' program. At home, Bear is happy to draw and paint and fill up a sketch book with his letters ... using either hand. He is excited by his growing abilities to make what is on the paper reflect the ideas in his head.

Then she called and said that the schools full-time learning specialist (3 Masters degrees and 18 years experience) would be spending some time each week with Bear to help evaluate his learning style and see if there were better ways to be presenting Bear with Language skills. CD and I discussed it and called her back with our agreement. As Dee told us, it doesn't hurt to learn as much as we can about Bear.

Then, yesterday, Mrs. Quilt - the learning specialist - called. For an hour, she made recommendations. Occupational Therapist to assess his non-dominance and help him develop his fine motor skills. OK. Mrs. Q herself will spend 3 sessions a week in Bear's classroom as a helper, seeing how he learns and helping present information in new ways as one of the "helpers" that often join his classroom (like student teachers, parent helpers, and other specialists). She is working with a couple of other children in Bear's class so it should all flow well. OK fine.

And by "OK fine" I mean; "What the frelling frell is going on?"

He's been in an all-day program for all of 7 weeks and what? He's being covertly watched by a shuffling crowd of All-but-thesis types taking notes and nodding vigorously?" I mean, I'm ALL - make that WE'RE ALL - for our kid getting every scrap of loving guidance where he needs it but don't you think he's going to NOTICE HE'S A LAB RAT?! This is a bright kid. He is very aware of his environment. Is all this to the good for him? Or damaging?

Anyone know? Anyone? Bueller?

So last night, CD and I sat, shell-shocked. We asked Dee for her counsel. I mean, it is nursery school. Expensive and well-respected nursery school, but still. How many specialists should be intervening in the life of a child who isn't even kindergarten age?

Bear writes his own name as well as MOM and a couple of other words (with both hands), sight-recognizes several words in books, draws really great representational pictures, can do simple adding and subtracting, has a spoken vocabulary far above his age level, and can round kick the stuffing out of his karate teacher. At home and with friends, he seems right on par.

The thing that's scares us the most has actually nothing to do with his cognitive skills or learning method. It's that he's sensing there is something wrong.

In class, Bear has begun "masking" - pretending he can do things that he hasn't actually mastered yet. Like "reading" starter books that some of his peers are reading. This, everyone agrees, is a sign he feels pressured.

But no one knows - pressured from his realization that something is expected of him that he is not doing, or pressured from his internal desire to be at the same skill level as the older 5 year-olds and 6 year-olds in his class?

I am baffled, flummoxed, and feel a little railroaded. We've decided that our next step is to demand an in-person meeting with the school folks (and we're bringing Dee). Maybe then we'll get better answers about the problems we're trying to address and if this level of intervention is necessary.

Meanwhile, CD and I look at each other and try to act calm. Maybe all this is just responsible and proportional on the part of the school. I don't know. There are no concrete right directions, no pretty signposts anywhere we look...

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November 02, 2005

Follow Me

That song by Uncle Kracker came on the radio, and I didn't think to change the station until it was too late.

From the backseat, Bear's sweet voice; "Mommy, what's this song about?"

This is a very common question. And usually, I answer. And honestly. But this time, I was truly stumped. Go on, YOU play "Scruples" with a precocious preschooler.

Me, trying not to show fear. They can smell fear. No fear: "Uh, what do you think it's about, sweet pea?"

Follow me, everything is alright...I'll be the one to tuck you in at night...

Bear: "Oh, I know! It's about a babysitter. A special one like Elia who comes all the time and takes me to the park! And makes me take a nap, but only when I'm tired!"

(There's a bullet dodged)

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October 28, 2005

Sick Day

I was feeling a little punkish this morning, Scratchy throat, tired. Nothing major.

Bear crawled into bed with me, and I kept saying that we had to get ready for school.

After about 30 minutes of that, he finally touched my forehead and smiled.

"Mommy, I have a better idea. How about we stay home instead?"

"And what would we do?"

"Watch Scoobie Doo. And eat soup."

"Oh," I thought. And really, doesn't that sound good? "OK," I agreed.

He grinned.

(Just so you know, he DID make me icecube-jellybean-carrot soup for lunch.)

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October 25, 2005

Unbehaving

So for those of you keeping score at home, the 4 stitches are out and the lump was benign. Yay for benign.

A quick Bear story: The other day, Bear came home and told us one of his classmates, Elliot, had to sit with the teacher at lunch. When we asked Bear why, he responded; "Well, that's a long story. But what happened was, Elliot had his unbehaving on." more...

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September 28, 2005

Home again, Home again

We're home, all three of us.

It's not Strep. It's not Kowasaki. They don't what it is, just some virus. And all the doctors sing the same song (Doo-wop, Doo wop) that 6 days of 104-ish temperatures are not normal.

They pulled fluids, are running some tests. But the upshot is that they let us take Bear home. (If his fever climbs again, or if he's not better by Friday, or if he gets one of 2 freaky rashes, then it's back to Children's.)

Bear is curled up with his dad in front of Scooby Doo. Thank God for our blessings. And thank everyone for the good thoughts and prayers. I don't think we've ever been so scared in our lives, and I can't begin to describe what it means to know that people are so kind.... (oh, can't talk. I'm verklempt.)

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Road Trip

Well, we're off to the hospital.

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September 27, 2005

Positively Zen

I'm begining to feel like a walking train wreck.

My new manager called to inform me (while on leave to take care of my son!) that he was temporarily demoting me. Only in title. It's hoped by those "on high" that this would calm the crazy customer who, despite my project being in Green Status and on time and budget, has asserted that he doesn't feel like I understand his priorities.

Internal customer, mind you. We all work for the same company. Oh, and same rank as me. But let's put a pin in that.

My Executive told him that people don't get changed around on her team because of feelings. She demanded that he provide some kind of paper trail showing that I was doing a poor job.

Of course, no such paper trail exists.

Then, out of the other side of her mouth, she told my manager to demote me. Keep my pay, responsibilities the same. Just get me out of the guy's sight.

So, back where we started. My manager called to inform me...

After a moment of disbelief, I got good and pissed. He told me that I should take some time to think about it, since I was tired and had "family distractions". I told him that if he attempted to demote me, in any way, that I would go to the mats. I would go to HR, I would go to my operational management, and I would go loudly. That he better be bulletproof, because no one was messing with my professional career and reputation.

Wow, he said. I admire your spunk.

Yes. He really said that.

Meanwhile, we took Bear off the meds to see if he'd turned the corner.

His temperature is 104.9.

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The Heat Came Back, The Very Next Day...

Bear's 103~104ish (f) degree fever has persisted now since begining on Friday.

I've learned more about childhood fevers in the last few days than I thought there was to know. Turns out that the fever itself is not a bad thing, and may be a tool Bear's body is using to fight whatever infection he has. And when he gets a drop in temperature (thank you, Tylenol), he becomes "himself" again - talking, joking, wanting to read stories.

But then the heat comes back. He fades away, before our very eyes. At the doctor's office, "New Doctor" (ND) heard a heart murmur that she says should go away once he is well. More than that, his hands shake, he gets a couple of red spots, he whimpers, he vomits.

The ND says this is OK - not dangerous. Yeah, but that shaking and whimpering looks scary to us. It rips our still-beating hearts from our body as we cling to the side of his bed, whispering to him that everything is going to be OK.

Then we slip him some more Tylenol and walk on eggshells until it kicks in.

The problem here is that we're on Day 5 without a known cause (other than a fair belief that it is not Meningitis) or an end in sight. If he doesn't turn the corner soon, then it's off to the hospital.

I got this from the Blue Cross site:

My child has a fever and no other symptoms. What's wrong?

When a child has a high fever that isn't accompanied by a runny nose, a cough, vomiting, or diarrhea, figuring out what's wrong can be difficult. Some viral infections, such as roseola, cause three days of very high fever followed by a rash of small red bumps. More serious infections, like meningitis, urinary tract infections, or bacteremia (bacteria in the bloodstream), also may trigger a high fever without other symptoms. But infections aren't the only triggers for fever; tumors, autoimmune diseases, and certain drug reactions can cause it. For these reasons, call your pediatrician if your child has a high fever but no other symptoms.

Yeah, we're all kinds of calm.

Posted by: Elizabeth at 04:51 AM | Comments (10) | Add Comment
Post contains 377 words, total size 2 kb.

September 26, 2005

The Lost Weekend

I spoke too soon, about the bad week being over.

Friday afternoon, and as I pulled into the mall parking lot Bear started to complain about tingling poking feelings in his legs. Next thing we knew, we were hustling out of Lowes with a son with red cheeks and glassy eyes.

His fever has hit 104 several times and his only other symptom was sleepiness and a headache. We started grappling with the fear that something might really be wrong.

The on-call doctor said if his fever didn't break then we needed to bring him into the hospital - possibly for a spinal tap to rule out Meningitis. At the last minute, his skin grew slightly cooler. Within the hour, his temp had dropped a few degrees and he was looking like his old self.

Reprieve.

But then last night the scary heat came back.

I won the coin toss, so I stayed home with him today. CD is at work, half asleep on his keyboard. I'm not much better, but the only one relying on me is Bear. Who has had a tall glass of fresh-squeezed orange juice and some Motrin and is actually playing right now in a (you guessed it) nest on my bed.

In a couple of hours, we're heading over to the doctor's. The NEW doctor.

Trial by fire.

Posted by: Elizabeth at 05:39 AM | Comments (7) | Add Comment
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