Halloween is my favorite holiday, and since having kids of my own, it's gotten even more fun for me. I don't yet have the time or energy or belief in the consistency of 3.5 year old choice to make costumes for the kids myself, but I do plan on that in the future. For now, we've bought costumes, Londo has put out the outdoor decorations, I've ordered peanut-free candy which has arrived, and we've already done one set of trick-or-treating!
This past Friday, the Pookie's daycare had "trunk or treat" in which a bunch of parents decorated the trunks of their cars, lined them up in the parking lot and handed out candy to the kids who went around trunk-or-treating. The daycare is a nut-free school, so we felt relatively safe letting the Pumpkin go trunk-or-treating with her brother (although not all parents were thorough about the no nuts, included one parent having Reese's Peanutbutter Cups in their bag of candy to hand out! URG!). And the daycare/school didn't mind at all, especially since that is where the Pumpkin went over the summer, so all the teachers and administrative types know her.
I informed Londo that I had signed us up to be one of the cars at trunk or treat and that we were using his car, since his interior is black. Besides, he's the one who does, oh, 90% of all the holiday decorating at our house (that pesky Seasonal Affective Disorder continuously gets in the way of my energy to decorate). Luckily, I long ago infected him with my love of Halloween, and he was on board.
He did a totally awesome job decorating the trunk of our car with all sorts of spooky-but-not-scary Halloween decor, including layering the bottom with orange and black balloons, which all the kids loved. He also played our Halloween playlist through the car speakers, which was a nice touch.
Our kids had so much fun walking around from car to car looking at all the decorations and taking the candy and putting it into their pumpkin buckets. My daughter was a unicorn, and my son was a dragon (although it was a dinosaur costume, it was close enough to call him a dragon). Londo mostly stayed at the car and handed out safe candy. I got to walk hand in hand with my unicorn and dragon and help them pick out the candy, making sure we got lots that Mommy and Daddy like. Heh heh.
I thought the trunk or treat was such a neat idea! We hadn't heard of it before, so it was new and fun for us on my favorite holiday. And this week's question of the week is:
What kind of fun activities do you or your kids' daycares/schools do for Halloween or the Fall season?
My daughter's school doesn't have them dress up for Halloween. But instead, this Friday her after-school care class is doing a Silly Hat Parade! This is another neat idea I hadn't heard of before and can totally get into.
Yesterday, the Pumpkin and I had over a friend and her mom, and we made silly hats out of paper bags. I'd seen the idea before, and then found this website with simple directions. I got some paper grocery bags, pulled out the arts and crafts, including sponge paint and hot glue gun, and we made some awesome hats! I'll try to post pictures soon.
Not only did we have fun making the crafts (my daughter LOVES arts and crafts projects), but she has a beautiful hat to wear on Friday. And for once, I'm not scrambling last minute to get her ready for something at school! I may get the hang of this parenting thing before the kids are completely grown up!
What about you guys? Whacha doing for Halloween or the Fall or as silly artsy projects? Anything good going on at your kids' schools or daycare? Are you planning any good Halloween kids parties in the neighborhood? What's your Halloween fun this year?
Monday, October 25, 2010
Thursday, October 21, 2010
Our First Parent-Teacher Conference
We had our first Parent-Teacher Conference the other day. This to me is a sign that the Montessori school is a real pre-school, not just a daycare pre-school, like the Pumpkin's earlier pre-schools were. No, this was a real appointment on a day she had off from school where we sat down with her teachers (in very little chairs) and discussed how she is doing.
And the first thing that her main teacher said was, and I quote, "She's not having as many meltdowns anymore."
Greeeeaaaaaaaat!!!! I believe that Londo and I both put our hands to our heads. We didn't know there were meltdowns at school. Certainly, there's been plenty at home, but you know kids. They don't really talk about what happens at school.
Apparently, she'll get upset about something (mostly minor things, it sounds like), start crying and saying that so-and-so "hurt her feelings." The teachers noted that they don't usually hear that verbalized from 3 year olds. I explained that we'd been working on it with her to combat some mean phrases she picked up at that first school, phrases like, "you're not my friend" and "you're a baby." I also explained that she'd always been verbally and physically advanced, but that she was emotionally very much still three and a half. They assured us that those mean phrases were not tolerated at this school, and that they were working with the Pumpkin to not get too upset over the little things.
But other than that, she's doing great. She likes to watch the teachers give lessons, especially to the older kids for the materials that she's not quite ready for. Then she wants to use those materials, but the teachers explain that she first needs to master the materials leading up to the older ones. That's the Montessori way. They said that she accepts that and moves on to other things.
The teachers and Londo and I talked a bit about how we can't force this child to do things, since that makes her just dig in her heels even more. Her main teacher said that she generally tells her that when she's ready, let her know, and the Pumpkin does. I've used that tactic before with success myself.
She likes the language materials, the puzzles, the steps and blocks, the life skills materials. She is interested and engaged. She is independant and able to roll out her mat and do her work on her own. She is picking up on a lot of the skills the first time she uses the material (SUPERGENIUS!) (You know I had to say it!). The teachers will be sure she moves along at a pace that will keep her interested without overwhelming her.
On a few occassions when I walked the Pumpkin down to her room before class started, I would go into the classroom and talk with the teacher a bit. When I did, I would watch as my daughter quickly went from clinging to me outside the classroom to hurrying off to a table or shelf where she immediately started doing or watching some activity. There was no looking back, no tears, no meltdowns, no running around and getting into trouble.
This is a good school for her. We like the teachers (mostly*), we love the Montessori method. We thought it would be a good fit for her, and we are glad to hear that it is so far.
*There is one that we aren't in synch with, but that's not one of the Pumpkin's main teachers.
And the first thing that her main teacher said was, and I quote, "She's not having as many meltdowns anymore."
Greeeeaaaaaaaat!!!! I believe that Londo and I both put our hands to our heads. We didn't know there were meltdowns at school. Certainly, there's been plenty at home, but you know kids. They don't really talk about what happens at school.
Apparently, she'll get upset about something (mostly minor things, it sounds like), start crying and saying that so-and-so "hurt her feelings." The teachers noted that they don't usually hear that verbalized from 3 year olds. I explained that we'd been working on it with her to combat some mean phrases she picked up at that first school, phrases like, "you're not my friend" and "you're a baby." I also explained that she'd always been verbally and physically advanced, but that she was emotionally very much still three and a half. They assured us that those mean phrases were not tolerated at this school, and that they were working with the Pumpkin to not get too upset over the little things.
But other than that, she's doing great. She likes to watch the teachers give lessons, especially to the older kids for the materials that she's not quite ready for. Then she wants to use those materials, but the teachers explain that she first needs to master the materials leading up to the older ones. That's the Montessori way. They said that she accepts that and moves on to other things.
The teachers and Londo and I talked a bit about how we can't force this child to do things, since that makes her just dig in her heels even more. Her main teacher said that she generally tells her that when she's ready, let her know, and the Pumpkin does. I've used that tactic before with success myself.
She likes the language materials, the puzzles, the steps and blocks, the life skills materials. She is interested and engaged. She is independant and able to roll out her mat and do her work on her own. She is picking up on a lot of the skills the first time she uses the material (SUPERGENIUS!) (You know I had to say it!). The teachers will be sure she moves along at a pace that will keep her interested without overwhelming her.
On a few occassions when I walked the Pumpkin down to her room before class started, I would go into the classroom and talk with the teacher a bit. When I did, I would watch as my daughter quickly went from clinging to me outside the classroom to hurrying off to a table or shelf where she immediately started doing or watching some activity. There was no looking back, no tears, no meltdowns, no running around and getting into trouble.
This is a good school for her. We like the teachers (mostly*), we love the Montessori method. We thought it would be a good fit for her, and we are glad to hear that it is so far.
*There is one that we aren't in synch with, but that's not one of the Pumpkin's main teachers.
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
Question of the Week - What Are You Drinking?
A couple months ago, I was annoyed at my husband. I don't even remember why now, other than it really wasn't a big deal. I'll be honest, I was PMSing and stressed about work and the kids had been sick (again!). I was doing dishes while he was putting the Pumpkin to bed, and I was thinking about some little thing that Londo did, getting more and more annoyed over what was virtually nothing (I mean, I literally don't even remember what it was now).
A glass and a half of wine later, I realized I was getting pissy over nothing. The mellow from the wine had kicked in, and I started to let it go. Instead, I started thinking about what a great dad and husband and worker and man he is. There he was, putting our daughter to bed after a difficult evening for all of us. I was cleaning dishes from the dinner he had made the family, drinking the wine he had picked up for me from the store. None of us are perfect, and he has a lot going on lately.
I also started thinking about a phrase he uses during some of our difficult times: I need you to cut me some slack. Written like that, it looks abrupt. But he never says it rudely. He actually says it or asks very nicely, and he often says that we should cut each other slack when we've got a lot going on.
So there I am, finishing up my second glass of Chianti, doing the last of the dishes, thinking to myself, "Yeah. I'm going to cut him some slack."
This could be a post about how we should all cut each other slack, or about how we should appreciate the good things our partners and others do for us, or about letting the little things go so that we don't stress out about everything, or about how we should all support each other especially during difficult times.
But it's not.
This post is about how I enjoy a nice glass (or two) of wine in the evenings, about how it helps me relax and enjoy things a little more. Some nights I don't have anything to drink, some nights I have a glass with dinner, and some nights I have a couple glasses after the kids go to bed. But since I've stopped nursing and I'm not pregnant, I have started to have wine more regularly to help de-stress. And I'm glad I am, for my sake, my husband's sake and my kids' sake! ;-)
This week's question of the week is:
What's your drink of choice?
Lately, my drink of choice is either Chianti or Chardonnay. My favorite mixed drink is vodka tonic, which happens to be my dad's drink also. My favorite drink for the beach is Captain and Coke. My favorite non-alcoholic relaxing drink is herbal tea. And my favorite morning drink is coffee!
What about you? What do you like to drink? Do you have different drinks for different occasions? Have you got a good way to mellow out at the end of a stressful day? Does it involve alcohol, like mine?
A glass and a half of wine later, I realized I was getting pissy over nothing. The mellow from the wine had kicked in, and I started to let it go. Instead, I started thinking about what a great dad and husband and worker and man he is. There he was, putting our daughter to bed after a difficult evening for all of us. I was cleaning dishes from the dinner he had made the family, drinking the wine he had picked up for me from the store. None of us are perfect, and he has a lot going on lately.
I also started thinking about a phrase he uses during some of our difficult times: I need you to cut me some slack. Written like that, it looks abrupt. But he never says it rudely. He actually says it or asks very nicely, and he often says that we should cut each other slack when we've got a lot going on.
So there I am, finishing up my second glass of Chianti, doing the last of the dishes, thinking to myself, "Yeah. I'm going to cut him some slack."
This could be a post about how we should all cut each other slack, or about how we should appreciate the good things our partners and others do for us, or about letting the little things go so that we don't stress out about everything, or about how we should all support each other especially during difficult times.
But it's not.
This post is about how I enjoy a nice glass (or two) of wine in the evenings, about how it helps me relax and enjoy things a little more. Some nights I don't have anything to drink, some nights I have a glass with dinner, and some nights I have a couple glasses after the kids go to bed. But since I've stopped nursing and I'm not pregnant, I have started to have wine more regularly to help de-stress. And I'm glad I am, for my sake, my husband's sake and my kids' sake! ;-)
This week's question of the week is:
What's your drink of choice?
Lately, my drink of choice is either Chianti or Chardonnay. My favorite mixed drink is vodka tonic, which happens to be my dad's drink also. My favorite drink for the beach is Captain and Coke. My favorite non-alcoholic relaxing drink is herbal tea. And my favorite morning drink is coffee!
What about you? What do you like to drink? Do you have different drinks for different occasions? Have you got a good way to mellow out at the end of a stressful day? Does it involve alcohol, like mine?
Thursday, October 14, 2010
Individuality and Clothes
They called me tacky turtle.
I was a fourth grader, and they were fifth graders. It would happen in the lunch room, since our lunch tables were next to each other. Either my clothes didn't match or they were too loud or too patterned or too... I don't know... different, I guess.
When I read a recent post by Her Bad Mother, it all came back to me. Just like her daughter, I didn't care what was in style or what would be normal or what would be considered matching by typical standards. Instead, just like her daughter, I wore what I felt like wearing that day based on my own desires.
No, the clothes didn't always match. They were probably even tacky. It was the 80s, after all. I have this picture of me at that age wearing splatter-paint paints in primary colors, a jaguar sweatshirt, a florescent pink belt and a pastel pink satin jacket. It totally didn't match. But those were all of my favorite things at the time, and I wanted to wear them all at once.
So, they called me tacky turtle. It was a stupid name, but it hurt. In fact, it hurt for many years. It was only a year or two ago that I could say or write the name without wanting to cry. Tacky turtle. There, I can write it now. I can even say it outloud. Tacky Turtle. That's what they called me.
I don't know if it was considered bullying at the time, or if it would be considered that now. I've always just said that I was picked on about how I dressed, I was teased about what I wore. It hurt, and it affected me deeply. More deeply than I showed to them, I'm sure. I'm pretty sure I didn't cry, at least in front of them. I think I just tried not to react at all. Whatever I did, I think it worked because it didn't last long. The teasing, that is. The emotional affects lasted a very long time.
In the following two or three years, I started dressing in black more and more. I doubted myself and my fashion sense. My mom says that my sister started dressing in basic black at that time, and perhaps I was picking it up from her, though her style was always pretty preppy and mine was not. But I also remember thinking that everything goes with black, so I'd wear that. I couldn't mismatch or look tacky in black. So I wore more and more black, blending in with those around me during those difficult middle school years.
By the time I reached high school, we had moved and I was in a new school with all new people. I don't know what it was that motivated me specifically, but I decided I was not going to simply wear black and blend in anymore. I was going to figure out what was fashion and, more importantly, what was my style. I wanted to feel confident in what I wore, but not simply mimic what everyone else was wearing. I didn't want to dress preppy like my sister or in clothes my mom picked out for me. I wanted to wear things I thought were fun and cute and ME, but in a way that was fashionable and not "tacky."
I got a subscription to Vogue magazine and I started paying attention to high fashion. The clothes in Vogue and on the runway were not anything I could actually wear. That's not the point of high fashion. The point is set style trends that can be toned down in regular wear. It was the early 90s now, and the age of the supermodels was in full force. Fashion was diverse and interesting to me. And I decided to try it all.
In high school, I wore the grunge style, with ripped jeans and flannel shirts. I wore hippy clothes, with long flowy skirts and an anklet of bells. I wore preppy clothes, with white buttondown shirts and khaki pants. I wore the hip-hop style, with body suits and baggy jeans. I wore what I wanted to wear, with a confidence that gave me the ability to pull off just about anything and with complete disregard to what anyone else thought about my clothes. I went to college with the same diversity of style and the same confidence to pull it all off.
Instead of being a tacky turtle in high school and college, I was known for being stylish with cute and fun clothes. I was also known for not caring what others thought about what I wore. When my good friend in college joked to me about my baggy black and white stripped "prison" pants, I laughed and said that I loved them. When my roommate was surprised that I put fake dreadlocks I put in my hair, I made her take a picture of the temporary style so I would always remember it. When I would go to my sorority parties, I paired my chunky heels and a lime green cardigan with my little black dress. When I came back from studying abroad in Italy, I wowwed Londo in black leather pants with a fitted t-shirt the night I met him.
Over the many years since I was called tacky turtle, I've occasionally thought, "Why did my mom let me out of the house in those clothes?" Every time I've had that thought, I immediately dismissed it for two reasons:
1. Even at that age, I would very stubbornly insist on wearing what I wanted to wear.
2. She let me explore what I liked no matter what others might have thought, and it's because of that support that I was able to later develop my own style.
I must admit, I have mostly tamed down my natural inclinations ever since fourth grade. I realize that if left to my own devices, I would probably wear some really gaudy outfits. I LOVE animal print, bright colors, big patterns, fake fur, four-inch heels and anything sparkly. But I've learned how to match patterns and how to pair loud items with plainer items, like putting my animal print shoes with my brown suit or a bright blouse with a black blazer.
As a mother, I care a lot about how my kids look, including their clothes. I find myself explaining to my daughter what colors and styles match, and I do try to encourage her to pick clothes that generally go together. But I'm not going to get into a big fight over what she wears. As long as the clothes are age appropriate and weather appropriate, she can pick out what she wants. Most of the clothes in her closet are ones I picked out and bought for her, but I'm trying to encourage her to pick out her own clothes in the stores. I also try to buy fun clothes that I think she will like, especially items with monkeys on them, since she's my monkey girl.
Right now, the Pumpkin only vaguely cares about what she wears. I usually pick something out, and either she agrees to wear it or not. If she doesn't want to wear the first outfit, I tell her to pick out what she wants to wear, as long as it's appropriate and still fits. Just this morning, she refused the cute patterned shirt I picked, and instead picked out a bright blue shirt.
I want my kids to develop their own sense of style. I want them to have fun with clothes and shoes and accessories. Though I don't want them to go through the teasing and self-consciousness I went through, I also don't want to limit them or impose conformity on them. I especially don't want them to try to impose conformity on others. I want them to not only thrive in their own individuality, but to I want them to support and stick up for others who are eccentric or outside the norm.
What this world needs is less judgement and more individuality. From fifth graders to the parents who insist that their children and all children must wear clothing that blends in. The leaders in fashion have always pushed the boundries of what is normal and even okay to wear. And as I learned in high school, it's the high fashion that trickles down into everyday wear, turning what was once unacceptable into the style of the day.
Maybe my daughter or son will push the boundries. Maybe they won't care at all about fashion. Maybe they will be teased for how they dress. Maybe their style will be admired and copied. I just hope that they wear what they want and that they don't tease others for doing the same.
I was a fourth grader, and they were fifth graders. It would happen in the lunch room, since our lunch tables were next to each other. Either my clothes didn't match or they were too loud or too patterned or too... I don't know... different, I guess.
When I read a recent post by Her Bad Mother, it all came back to me. Just like her daughter, I didn't care what was in style or what would be normal or what would be considered matching by typical standards. Instead, just like her daughter, I wore what I felt like wearing that day based on my own desires.
No, the clothes didn't always match. They were probably even tacky. It was the 80s, after all. I have this picture of me at that age wearing splatter-paint paints in primary colors, a jaguar sweatshirt, a florescent pink belt and a pastel pink satin jacket. It totally didn't match. But those were all of my favorite things at the time, and I wanted to wear them all at once.
So, they called me tacky turtle. It was a stupid name, but it hurt. In fact, it hurt for many years. It was only a year or two ago that I could say or write the name without wanting to cry. Tacky turtle. There, I can write it now. I can even say it outloud. Tacky Turtle. That's what they called me.
I don't know if it was considered bullying at the time, or if it would be considered that now. I've always just said that I was picked on about how I dressed, I was teased about what I wore. It hurt, and it affected me deeply. More deeply than I showed to them, I'm sure. I'm pretty sure I didn't cry, at least in front of them. I think I just tried not to react at all. Whatever I did, I think it worked because it didn't last long. The teasing, that is. The emotional affects lasted a very long time.
In the following two or three years, I started dressing in black more and more. I doubted myself and my fashion sense. My mom says that my sister started dressing in basic black at that time, and perhaps I was picking it up from her, though her style was always pretty preppy and mine was not. But I also remember thinking that everything goes with black, so I'd wear that. I couldn't mismatch or look tacky in black. So I wore more and more black, blending in with those around me during those difficult middle school years.
By the time I reached high school, we had moved and I was in a new school with all new people. I don't know what it was that motivated me specifically, but I decided I was not going to simply wear black and blend in anymore. I was going to figure out what was fashion and, more importantly, what was my style. I wanted to feel confident in what I wore, but not simply mimic what everyone else was wearing. I didn't want to dress preppy like my sister or in clothes my mom picked out for me. I wanted to wear things I thought were fun and cute and ME, but in a way that was fashionable and not "tacky."
I got a subscription to Vogue magazine and I started paying attention to high fashion. The clothes in Vogue and on the runway were not anything I could actually wear. That's not the point of high fashion. The point is set style trends that can be toned down in regular wear. It was the early 90s now, and the age of the supermodels was in full force. Fashion was diverse and interesting to me. And I decided to try it all.
In high school, I wore the grunge style, with ripped jeans and flannel shirts. I wore hippy clothes, with long flowy skirts and an anklet of bells. I wore preppy clothes, with white buttondown shirts and khaki pants. I wore the hip-hop style, with body suits and baggy jeans. I wore what I wanted to wear, with a confidence that gave me the ability to pull off just about anything and with complete disregard to what anyone else thought about my clothes. I went to college with the same diversity of style and the same confidence to pull it all off.
Instead of being a tacky turtle in high school and college, I was known for being stylish with cute and fun clothes. I was also known for not caring what others thought about what I wore. When my good friend in college joked to me about my baggy black and white stripped "prison" pants, I laughed and said that I loved them. When my roommate was surprised that I put fake dreadlocks I put in my hair, I made her take a picture of the temporary style so I would always remember it. When I would go to my sorority parties, I paired my chunky heels and a lime green cardigan with my little black dress. When I came back from studying abroad in Italy, I wowwed Londo in black leather pants with a fitted t-shirt the night I met him.
Over the many years since I was called tacky turtle, I've occasionally thought, "Why did my mom let me out of the house in those clothes?" Every time I've had that thought, I immediately dismissed it for two reasons:
1. Even at that age, I would very stubbornly insist on wearing what I wanted to wear.
2. She let me explore what I liked no matter what others might have thought, and it's because of that support that I was able to later develop my own style.
I must admit, I have mostly tamed down my natural inclinations ever since fourth grade. I realize that if left to my own devices, I would probably wear some really gaudy outfits. I LOVE animal print, bright colors, big patterns, fake fur, four-inch heels and anything sparkly. But I've learned how to match patterns and how to pair loud items with plainer items, like putting my animal print shoes with my brown suit or a bright blouse with a black blazer.
As a mother, I care a lot about how my kids look, including their clothes. I find myself explaining to my daughter what colors and styles match, and I do try to encourage her to pick clothes that generally go together. But I'm not going to get into a big fight over what she wears. As long as the clothes are age appropriate and weather appropriate, she can pick out what she wants. Most of the clothes in her closet are ones I picked out and bought for her, but I'm trying to encourage her to pick out her own clothes in the stores. I also try to buy fun clothes that I think she will like, especially items with monkeys on them, since she's my monkey girl.
Right now, the Pumpkin only vaguely cares about what she wears. I usually pick something out, and either she agrees to wear it or not. If she doesn't want to wear the first outfit, I tell her to pick out what she wants to wear, as long as it's appropriate and still fits. Just this morning, she refused the cute patterned shirt I picked, and instead picked out a bright blue shirt.
I want my kids to develop their own sense of style. I want them to have fun with clothes and shoes and accessories. Though I don't want them to go through the teasing and self-consciousness I went through, I also don't want to limit them or impose conformity on them. I especially don't want them to try to impose conformity on others. I want them to not only thrive in their own individuality, but to I want them to support and stick up for others who are eccentric or outside the norm.
What this world needs is less judgement and more individuality. From fifth graders to the parents who insist that their children and all children must wear clothing that blends in. The leaders in fashion have always pushed the boundries of what is normal and even okay to wear. And as I learned in high school, it's the high fashion that trickles down into everyday wear, turning what was once unacceptable into the style of the day.
Maybe my daughter or son will push the boundries. Maybe they won't care at all about fashion. Maybe they will be teased for how they dress. Maybe their style will be admired and copied. I just hope that they wear what they want and that they don't tease others for doing the same.
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
Spending My Time
I am totally out of my normal rhythm, so you'll have to excuse me if I'm not keeping up with the blogosphere. There are good reasons, and not-so-good reasons.
First, this weekend I went away with one of my BFFs and my cousin's college-age daughter to my cousin's house at a nearby lake. My BFF and I left husbands and kids behind for a girls' weekend! It was fantabulous! We stayed up late talking or playing games, we slept in late in the mornings, we ate out for every meal, we saw Life As We Know It and got ice cream, we sat outside on the deck reading in the sun on a beautiful fall day, and we generally did whatever we wanted!
I came back Sunday night, immediately picked up my daughter and Mom and aunt, and drove up to my brother's house for my mom's birthday dinner. The Pookie had a stuffy nose, so Londo stayed home with him. I had a great time, especially since the Pumpkin and her cousins that are around her age all ran off into the basement to play BY THEMSELVES! It's a good age.
Although we had a bit of a rough night that night, Monday was another good day. Both my husband and I were working from home that day (my office was closed for Columbus Day), but the kids' schools were open. So I dropped them off in the morning and went back home.
It was a beautiful day, so it didn't take much for Londo to convince me to pick up some food and go on a picnic. We had such a lovely time that we decided not to head back to the house right away to go back to work. Instead, we hiked around a park for a while, enjoying the weather and each other's company.
This was much needed for us, this reconnection. We had been short with each other lately, with so much stressors going on in our lives. It's too easy to take out the stress and frustration on the ones we are closest to, though we try so hard not to. An afternoon outside exploring and being together was just what we needed. And it helped to get us in the right spirits for what we had to deal with the next day.
You see, Sunday night I had noticed a little red bump on the Pumpkin's bottom. It's not unusual for her to get irritation bumps, since she has such sensitive skin. And on Sunday night, we had to borrow a pair of underwear from my niece due to a pee pee accident. I figured that her skin was just irritated by a different kind of detergent.
But then on Monday night, we noticed there were more bumps as she got into the bath with her brother. They looked odd, but I wasn't yet worried. I was only slightly worried the next morning when I noticed even more bumps, and that some looked like whiteheads. As I got her ready for the day, I saw a couple small bumps on her ribs and thighs. I was puzzled, but continued with our morning.
In fact, I didn't truly worry until I was getting the Pookie out of his highchair (about to get his shoes on and go out the door with both kids) and I noticed some small bumps on his leg. That's when I called a halt to the morning. It was one thing for my daughter to be getting a weird rash on her sensitive skin, but it's another to see the same rash on the other child. That quite clearly indicates that it can spread, which means no going to school.
I'd been hearing about bed bugs a lot lately, so I immediately start to panic that it was bed bugs and we'd have to sanitize the entire house! (It's not bed bugs.) I called the nurse at my doctors. I answer her questions, including the fact that the spots don't seem to be ichy to either kid. She doesn't think it's chicken pox, but now I start to worry that it's chicken pox. (It's not chicken pox. And no, neither kid has had that vaccine yet, although they will soon.) The nurse asks if I want to bring the kids in. And yes, I very much do want to bring them in!
It's impetigo. As soon as the doctor looks at it, she said right off that it's impetigo, from either a staph or strep infection. But just on the skin -- skin infection. Neither kid has a fever or sore throat, so that's good at least. We just apply a topical antibiotic three times a day until it clears up and cover with long pants and long sleeves.
I never thought I'd be so glad that my kids have a staph or strep infection! But what a relief that it's not bed bugs or chicken pox or some other worse skin disease. We still are keeping the Pumpkin home, because it apparently often spreads in pre-schoolers via the toilet, which explains the bumps on her bottom that were in the horseshoe shape of a toilet seat. My guess is she picked it up at school, but it could have been anywhere. I don't even know where she used the bathroom over the weekend, and I'm not going to bother to try to figure it out. Though I did clean our bathrooms from top to bottom.
So I stayed home with the kids yesterday, and I quite enjoyed playing with them all day. It's been like I had a double weekend, with plenty of time to enjoy myself (weekend away), my BFF (weekend away), my family (Sunday night), my husband (Monday) and my kids (Tuesday). But now, I have SO MUCH WORK TO DO and need to spend time at work. Oh well. It's almost the weekend again!
First, this weekend I went away with one of my BFFs and my cousin's college-age daughter to my cousin's house at a nearby lake. My BFF and I left husbands and kids behind for a girls' weekend! It was fantabulous! We stayed up late talking or playing games, we slept in late in the mornings, we ate out for every meal, we saw Life As We Know It and got ice cream, we sat outside on the deck reading in the sun on a beautiful fall day, and we generally did whatever we wanted!
I came back Sunday night, immediately picked up my daughter and Mom and aunt, and drove up to my brother's house for my mom's birthday dinner. The Pookie had a stuffy nose, so Londo stayed home with him. I had a great time, especially since the Pumpkin and her cousins that are around her age all ran off into the basement to play BY THEMSELVES! It's a good age.
Although we had a bit of a rough night that night, Monday was another good day. Both my husband and I were working from home that day (my office was closed for Columbus Day), but the kids' schools were open. So I dropped them off in the morning and went back home.
It was a beautiful day, so it didn't take much for Londo to convince me to pick up some food and go on a picnic. We had such a lovely time that we decided not to head back to the house right away to go back to work. Instead, we hiked around a park for a while, enjoying the weather and each other's company.
This was much needed for us, this reconnection. We had been short with each other lately, with so much stressors going on in our lives. It's too easy to take out the stress and frustration on the ones we are closest to, though we try so hard not to. An afternoon outside exploring and being together was just what we needed. And it helped to get us in the right spirits for what we had to deal with the next day.
You see, Sunday night I had noticed a little red bump on the Pumpkin's bottom. It's not unusual for her to get irritation bumps, since she has such sensitive skin. And on Sunday night, we had to borrow a pair of underwear from my niece due to a pee pee accident. I figured that her skin was just irritated by a different kind of detergent.
But then on Monday night, we noticed there were more bumps as she got into the bath with her brother. They looked odd, but I wasn't yet worried. I was only slightly worried the next morning when I noticed even more bumps, and that some looked like whiteheads. As I got her ready for the day, I saw a couple small bumps on her ribs and thighs. I was puzzled, but continued with our morning.
In fact, I didn't truly worry until I was getting the Pookie out of his highchair (about to get his shoes on and go out the door with both kids) and I noticed some small bumps on his leg. That's when I called a halt to the morning. It was one thing for my daughter to be getting a weird rash on her sensitive skin, but it's another to see the same rash on the other child. That quite clearly indicates that it can spread, which means no going to school.
I'd been hearing about bed bugs a lot lately, so I immediately start to panic that it was bed bugs and we'd have to sanitize the entire house! (It's not bed bugs.) I called the nurse at my doctors. I answer her questions, including the fact that the spots don't seem to be ichy to either kid. She doesn't think it's chicken pox, but now I start to worry that it's chicken pox. (It's not chicken pox. And no, neither kid has had that vaccine yet, although they will soon.) The nurse asks if I want to bring the kids in. And yes, I very much do want to bring them in!
It's impetigo. As soon as the doctor looks at it, she said right off that it's impetigo, from either a staph or strep infection. But just on the skin -- skin infection. Neither kid has a fever or sore throat, so that's good at least. We just apply a topical antibiotic three times a day until it clears up and cover with long pants and long sleeves.
I never thought I'd be so glad that my kids have a staph or strep infection! But what a relief that it's not bed bugs or chicken pox or some other worse skin disease. We still are keeping the Pumpkin home, because it apparently often spreads in pre-schoolers via the toilet, which explains the bumps on her bottom that were in the horseshoe shape of a toilet seat. My guess is she picked it up at school, but it could have been anywhere. I don't even know where she used the bathroom over the weekend, and I'm not going to bother to try to figure it out. Though I did clean our bathrooms from top to bottom.
So I stayed home with the kids yesterday, and I quite enjoyed playing with them all day. It's been like I had a double weekend, with plenty of time to enjoy myself (weekend away), my BFF (weekend away), my family (Sunday night), my husband (Monday) and my kids (Tuesday). But now, I have SO MUCH WORK TO DO and need to spend time at work. Oh well. It's almost the weekend again!
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