Diaper rash update

I get to leave work early today, so I asked my husband to drop off The Boy. I wanted to get to the office early and finish up all my month-end things.

Anyway, when he collected The Boy from school yesterday, he immediately checked The Boy’s diaper, as I asked. The teacher was a little taken aback; she had just changed him, after all, and didn’t understand why the child’s diaper needed checking. My husband explained that I asked him to do it, and, upon opening the diaper, what do you think he saw?

Lots of powder. No A&D.

He asked why they didn’t use any ointment, and she insisted that they did. He kindly informed them that we use more than that at home and that she needs to put more on The Boy. Which she did. And then Cute Husband told her to use more. And then some more. And then a little more.

There. That’s how much we use at home.

I’m picking him up this afternoon and will change him before we leave there. I’ll see if he’s got enough ointment on his bottom. And if he doesn’t, I’ll follow my husband’s lead and camly remind them to use a lot of ointment on The Boy, especially when he has a rash, and show them how much to use if necessary. (I figure they should go through about 3 ounces of this stuff a week.)

Right now I just have to keep reminding myself that it will get better. After all, this morning’s diaper change was less of a struggle than yesterday’s. And, truth be told, his bum doesn’t look nearly as bad as it did from other diaper rashes (like last week’s or any of the ones that accompanied his stomach bugs). So, it is getting better.



Oh, if only I had my camera handy…

The Boy awoke this morning at 4:45. I shouldn’t complain; he only woke at 8:45 last night (just before I jumped into the shower), went back down at 9:30, and slept until almost 5 o’clock. But 4:45 in the morning is still way too early for me.

Anyway, this early awakening meant an early start to our day. After some quality time playing with Daddy and a flashlight and a much-needed diaper change, I fed him a hearty breakfast of yogurt, applesauce, and Corn Chex. He then had the opportunity to roam the house and play for about an hour before I took him to school.

Apparently, roaming the house and napping in the car en route expels enough energy that one – who was well-fed just before leaving the house – might suddenly have a concave belly upon entering the classroom.

Such was the case with The Boy. I packed cheese and crackers to give him for a snack, and he eagerly attacked the cheese with a ferocity I had never before seen. Honestly, you’d never guess he had just eaten breakfast a mere two hours prior.

One of the teachers in a different classroom brought in some miniature muffins, and his primary teacher asked if The Boy could have one. I sampled one, decided they would pose a low risk for allergies, and offered him half of a mini-muffin top. As you can guess, the entire piece went into his mouth (and The Boy begrudgingly washed it down with some formula soon after). I broke apart the rest of the muffin into pieces and set them on the high chair tray.

Another little boy in his class, B, was sitting in the high chair next to him, also enjoying a muffin. His muffin, too, was broken into pieces for him, but B is simply not as neat of an eater. So, while The Boy had finished his muffin and returned to his cheese and crackers (the cheese, of course, being the more desirable of the two), B’s muffin was in tiny crumbs strewn all over the tray.

Upon seeing B’s tray, the primary teacher exclaimed, “B! What did you do to your muffin?” The Boy craned his neck to look at B, saw B pushing muffin crumbs around the tray, and gave B a look that clearly said, “What’s wrong with you? That’s a waste of a perfectly good muffin,” before shoving a piece of cheese into his mouth.

If it’s at all possible, interactions like these make me love The Boy even more!

Silly boy!

I’ve been meaning to share this with my friends and family, only because I think this picture speaks volumes about The Boy’s current personality:

Sticking out his tongue for Daddy.

Something to note: look at how long his hair is already! I’m hoping to get it cut (again) this weekend, since his birthday is on the 12th.

Not even a year old yet and he needs a second hair cut! (I’d say that I was jealous, but my hair grows just as fast.)

My boy, the sprout

My little boy was stretched out in his crib last night, fast asleep. “He looks so long,” I thought to myself. I went to chest of drawers and pulled out my trusty tape measure. Very carefully, I laid it beside him, the end at the top of his head, and stretched it to his feet.

Thirty inches.

It’s official. My little boy is about half my height already. I have very few years left when I’ll be able to say (as I do now), “I’m bigger than you, little one. You can’t fight me on this.”

Thirty inches.

At his last well-baby appointment, he was 27-3/4 inches. This means that in less than two months, he’s already grown more than two inches. No wonder he looks so scrunched up in his footed pajamas now!

[sigh] I guess I know where all the food has gone now, besides the dirty diapers. The funny thing is that just the other day, Cute Husband said to me, “He’s getting really pudgy.” And we all know that little children who are fairly slender under normal circumstances only start to beef up right before a major spurt.

So, my baby is very quickly outgrowing his “baby” status. He’s now pulling himself up on everything he sees, and he has also just begun to cruise. One day he’ll let go completely and discover he can balance himself on his two legs, and soon after that, he’ll discover his little legs can move much faster than Mommy’s or Daddy’s can.

But for now, I’m enjoying this in-between stage. He’s not quite a baby, yet not quite a toddler, either. The latter will come all too soon.

28 pounds and counting…

The Boy is growing so fast. He has already outgrown two of his 24-month sleepers (Carter’s apparently runs smaller than Children’s Place) and is likely due for a new pair of shoes very soon. I weighed him the other day and beamed with pride when I saw the scale read 28 pounds. No wonder I can’t carry him for very long!

He has a lot of toys and cycles through all of them each week, but he certainly has favorites. A day doesn’t go by without his Thomas the Tank Engine set getting set up for play. Thomas and Friends has also replaced Yo Gabba Gabba! as part of the nighttime ritual, though Yo Gabba Gabba! is still an important part of our play routine (and Brobee, Muno, and Toodee sleep in his crib every night).

The Boy is very good about picking up after himself. Well, inasmuch as one can expect an almost-two-year-old to do, anyway. He puts away his toys, puts dirty clothes in the hamper, puts away his shoes, and is generally very helpful. I read somewhere that children are, by nature, very helpful, and I’ve found that to be true with The Boy. We all cheer and praise him when he cleans up after himself, so I’m not that surprised that he applauds me when I sweep cracker crumbs up off the floor.

We still have some problems with food sensitivities, particularly dairy, but it’s nothing that can’t be controlled with bit of vigilance. I send him to school each week with a list of foods he is not to have and map out, according to the published menu, what foods will need substitutions. It’s worked out well for everyone, and The Boy is clearly thriving without milk or cheese.

It’s really little wonder that he is growing as quickly as he is. He typically sleeps 11-13 hours a night and takes a 2-hour nap most days. He also eats quite a bit and has been known to eat multiple bananas in one sitting. His vocabulary grows a bit larger each day, though he can understand us far better than we understand him, and his curiosity is limitless. It’s often difficult to answer his questions with words he can understand, but this interest in how the world works is so nice to see!

Finally, a moment to breathe

Budget season is upon us at work, and this means that I have been a very busy little bee, indeed. Thankfully, the crux of it is over, and I have a moment to breathe.

So, there are a few interesting things on my mind.

This morning, I hit a bird. It was purely accidental, and, to be fair, it really bounced off the car in front of me before I hit it with my front bumper. I didn’t get a good look at it, but I think it was a pigeon. Either way, it traumatized me enough that I had to call Cute Husband immediately and tell him. I’m so glad Baby C was facing the other way and didn’t see what I did. I think he would have been properly mortified if he understood any of it.

Baby C and I had our doctor’s appointments yesterday. Dr W has been so great as Baby C’s pediatrician, I decided to officially make him our family doctor. Baby C is now 26.5 inches long and 17 pounds, 1 ounce. I had to get on the scale, too, but suffice it to say that I weigh significantly more than he does. I’m also taller, but only for now, because, unlike the baby, I’m no longer growing in a vertical direction.

So, as yesterday marked Baby C’s 6-month check-up (10 days after his 6-month birthday), it also meant he got his immunizations. Since it’s flu season and he goes to daycare, I opted for us both to get the flu shot. He was a champ and hollered a bit when they stuck him with the needles, but as soon as I picked him up and started to hush him, he smiled at his nurse. He’s a little flirt, that one. I’ll need to watch out for him when he gets older, or I’ll have a bunch of teeny bopper girls eyeing him and giggling when I pick him up from school in 13 years or so. Not that I ever behaved that way around a boy, mind you.

Baby C also spiked a fever early this morning, which alarmed me. I gave him some Tylenol, bundled him up, then held him close until I felt his forehead, neck, and feet had all cooled considerably. Only then was I able to sleep, though not peacefully. This morning, his temperature was still elevated, but since he was playing and cooing and seemed otherwise normal, I dressed him in his first autumn outfit (it was a balmy 68 degrees when we left the house this morning!) and took him to school.

I’m so glad tomorrow is Friday. I feel like I haven’t been at work at all this week, but at the same time, I feel like I haven’t been at home, either. Weather permitting, I think Cute Husband and I are going to take Baby C to the Magic Kingdom for a little while. Cute Husband needs to get a haircut, and while he’s being groomed, Baby C and I can people-watch on Main Street. He’s sitting in the main part of his stroller now, and he leans forward in it, taking in all the sights. I think he likes to feel the wind on his face, too. It’s quite adorable to watch.

T-Dawg is also having his annual Halloween party on Saturday. At its height, his house would be completely crammed with people, many of them consuming great quantities of alcohol. Nowadays, there’s no telling how the turnout will be. I didn’t go to the party last year (I had an awful headache, was starting to become obviously pregnant, and still hadn’t told our core group of friends), but I’ll be there this year to show off Baby C in his Yoda costume (a hand-me-down from my sister’s friend). Of course, we’ll get to the house very early in the afternoon and turn around to go home before the party officially starts, but at least Baby C will make an appearance, however brief it may be.

For my next act, I require complete silence…

Baby C is already displaying signs of a dominant personality. (Where on earth did he get that? Hmmm…) During feeding sessions, whether it’s bottle or breast, he requires complete silence. Sometimes this extends to the radio and television, but it usually is relegated to, “No talking!”

This morning, as I was feeding him, my husband asked how he slept last night. I started to respond, when Baby C unlatched and whipped his head around to look at him. Cute Husband immediately apologized for interrupting his feeding, but the baby would have none of it. He continued to stare at my poor husband until he ducked out of the room altogether. Only then did Baby C resume feeding. Cute Husband poked his head around the corner and laughed (silently) when he saw the baby was eating again.

His teachers at school say he requires complete silence from them when he eats at school. If other kids are crying, he can deal, but the moment an adult tries to calm one of them, feeding is all over. And God forbid I should cough or sneeze while feeding him. He’s likely to launch into an inconsolable crying fit.

My funny, funny little boy.

Well, that explains everything!

Dedicated readers of this blog are aware of my son’s awesome ability to consume large quantities of food. Let’s put it this way: The typical 4-5 month old will drink about 24 to 32 ounces of formula or breastmilk a day; Baby C drinks about 40-48 ounces of breastmilk a day. As of his last check up, he was in the 90th percentile in height and in the 50th percentile in weight, so he’s clearly not overweight.

What does this massive consumption of food mean? Well, for one thing, I have to keep up with his needs and find myself constantly hungry. This latest diet doesn’t help matters much, either. (I ate an entire rotisserie chicken for lunch today with an artichoke heart salad and an entire 10-ounce bag of gourmet potato chips… and I was still hungry.) As I’m still breastfeeding my son, I’m not overly concerned about the quantity of the food I’m eating, especially since I’m also losing weight.

But what concerned me for a while was precisely why my little boy was eating as much as he was – and how was it possible that he was consuming as much as he was and not showing it?

Last night, Cute Husband and I were having dinner, and Baby C sat happily in his bouncy seat while we ate. As I watched him, it finally occurred to me how his weight remained average though his appetite certainly wasn’t: the boy constantly moves. Just in his seat, he talked to us, kicking his legs quickly all the while. (It also explained how his legs got so strong, when I cave too quickly and excuse him from the requisite Tummy Time exercises.)

I’m really not looking forward to the day he is mobile. If I think I’m getting a workout now by just picking him up and putting him down, just wait until I have to run after a crawling baby to pick him up. Karma is truly unbiased. (Note to self: Send Mom and Dad a note apologizing for my constant activity as a kid.)

So, where did he get this fantastic metabolism, you ask? Believe it or not, from both Mom and Dad. Cute Husband and I were mere shades of ourselves when we met many, many moons ago. Back then, we were in our early twenties and had metabolisms that rivaled those of race horses. Plus we were still in college and, well, that meant a certain amount of walking each day.

Now, we’re not so slim. We’ve each grown a clothing size or two, but I firmly believe it’s because we’re really not all that active anymore. Plus we’re in our early thirties, and, well, metabolisms start to slow at our old age.

But Baby C has inherited our metabolisms. And I think he’s picked up my childhood appetite (large portions) and Cute Husband’s adolescent feeding cycle (constant). What will this ultimately mean for him?

For now, I have no idea.

Update # 2: The crazy diet and Baby C’s rash

It’s Day 9 of the diet, and I’m starving. No, I really am. Rice, salad, and meat only fills you up for so long before you’re in desperate need for something a little more filling… like a milkshake or even Wheat Thins. I ate an entire rotisserie chicken at a meeting on Thursday (everyone asked where I was putting all the food, and my Sr. Director said, “She bottles it for the baby.”) and was still hungry by the time we got out an hour and a half later – hungry enough to help myself to a bowl of cereal.

But this new diet is working, because Baby C’s rash is almost completely gone. He’s still got some redness behind the knees and inside his elbows, but even that has abated substantially since I started using the topical treatment Dr. W prescribed. He’s also not burning up anymore, so I actually have him in a onesie and a pair of shorts right now. The bumps on his skin are gone, his cheeks aren’t rosy out of irritation, and he actually let me swaddle him last night so I could change the sheets on the bed and do a few other things around the house. Plus his disposition is much better.

So, I’m encouraged now by the drastic change to the baby’s skin, though I’m still a little bitter at having to refrain from eating all the things I love. But with that said, I just heard my stomach growl, and I’m not convinced a banana is going to fix that.


Update #1: My new diet and Baby C’s rash

I’m on Day 5 of my new diet, and I think I’m getting better at finding alternatives to the things on the banned list. Among my staples: Rice Dream rice milk, Rice Chex, oatmeal, and bananas. My husband cooked dinner the past few nights, seasoning the meat with only salt, pepper, and garlic powder, and I’ve really enjoyed it. I also found a vinaigrette that I can use (sans corn or soybean oil), so salads can be enjoyable again, too. The hardest thing to get over is my inability to eat bread (right now). Even yesterday’s trip to the Fresh Market proved futile in finding wheat-free bread.

Baby C’s rash has improved dramatically. I’m using Cetaphil cream on him each morning and in the evenings, and it has reduced the bumps on his arms and legs dramatically. We’re also using the Cetaphil wash on him, though we haven’t bathed him since Friday. I think the lapse in bathing has helped a bit, too, but we’ll need to give him a bath tonight, as he’s starting to get a little stinky. Right now he just looks like he has a very bad sunburn.

So, in short, things are going pretty well. I’m managing to survive (and have a very valid excuse to avoid the donuts in the break room), and Baby C seems to be feeling better. All is well.