Isaac sees no reason to bother asking Dad for something when he can help himself.
(He is even using Rachel's favorite ice cream scoop.)
Showing posts with label Being two. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Being two. Show all posts
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
Monday, June 27, 2011
Two and Trouble
Is is wrong to feel utter relief when it is naptime? (I'm thinking NOT!)
Today Isaac:
Lest any one think I just let him run wild- he accomplishes his rampant destruction in 3-5 minute time chunks. Usually in the time I'm trying to prepare a meal, feed or change Corinna, or help Matthew or Melissa with a problem, he finds fun things to do!
Just yesterday he flooded the entire kitchen floor while I was diapering Corinna and changing her clothes. ARGH!
It's after 2 PM and I still haven't used the bathroom since this morning, because I'm afraid to do so!
I do believe this child is trying to drive me batty.
Today Isaac:
- decorated himself and the table with oatmeal
- emptied the Sunday bag of its contents (crayons, books, hand sanitizer, spare clothes...)
- scattered 3 decks of cards on the floor
- dumped a box of Quaker Oat Squares into a bucket, took the bucket upstairs, and scattered the cereal down the hallway and in Melissa's room
- climbed onto the counter, found a jar of red sugar sprinkles and emptied the entire contents on the counter, chairs and floor
- overturned a toy basket and tossed toys everywhere
- found a pen and scribbled on his and Matthew's bunk bed (I still haven't found the pen he used)
Lest any one think I just let him run wild- he accomplishes his rampant destruction in 3-5 minute time chunks. Usually in the time I'm trying to prepare a meal, feed or change Corinna, or help Matthew or Melissa with a problem, he finds fun things to do!
Just yesterday he flooded the entire kitchen floor while I was diapering Corinna and changing her clothes. ARGH!
It's after 2 PM and I still haven't used the bathroom since this morning, because I'm afraid to do so!
I do believe this child is trying to drive me batty.
Sunday, May 15, 2011
A day at the hospital
I have a sore throat so I was planning to stay home from church and get some rest. As it turned out, I didn't go to church, but the rest of the day didn't exactly go as planned.
Everyone else was almost ready for church when I heard our guests saying things like "how many pills were in the bottle?” and, "how many do you think he ate?”
It sounded like Isaac got into something he shouldn't have. Again.
I went upstairs and sure enough there had been all bottle of 30 pills in their bag. Isaac found it, opened the ostensibly childproof cap, and dumped it into a glass of water nearby. He may or may not have also eaten some first. It was found with blue residue from the pills on his lips in time. Most of the pills were still present in the glass sentiment, so it was clear he hadn't ingested a great deal but exactly how much he had consumed was unclear.
I went in my bedroom and started pulling some pants on. Rachel asked why I was getting dressed. “In case I need to take Isaac to the emergency room,” I told her. I started to add I could take care of it, but she rushed out. I'm not sure there is a good way to explain to your wife that your son might need to go to the ER.
We called poison control and were told that he could have hallucinations or seizures, and that we'd better go to the hospital. I packed a bag with a change of clothing, in case I had to force more charcoal down him, and his favorite blanket so I'd have a chance of getting him to take a nap.
I went to a different hospital this time. The front desk experience was very modern: the receptionist asked me a few questions, took my insurance information and had me sign on a touchscreen. No paper was involved. Once inside though, it was the same as every other doctor's office I've been to: the nurse asked me the same questions the receptionist asked, then the doctor asked the same questions again for good measure.
The Dr. also asked how much he weighed. I told her that they'd just weighed him in at 14.9 in the front office. "14.9 what?” she asked. I thought that was a stupid question, but didn't say so.
Poison control advised the hospital to have an IV ready in case Isaac needed medication or fluids later. He also needed three vials of blood taken for lab work. I told the nurses he should be fine if I held him while they put the needle in, but they didn't believe me, and swaddled him on the bed. He objected vociferously and strenuously to this process, and only calmed down once he'd worked his other arm out. It didn't hurt that I turned Netflix on on my phone to his favorite pink Panther cartoons. They have four nurses around him for the procedure, one to insert the needle and three to hold him down, but when he stopped struggling the extra nurses let go. One commented that she'd seen adults take an IV with more drama.
We had about an hour to burn before his charcoal arrived. The doctor offered to mix it into chocolate milk, but Isaac doesn't like milk. I suggested Apple juice instead. I'm sure was still nasty. At any rate, Isaac thought so: he took a sip from the straw and declared, “No.” I tried to give him some from the cup instead of the straw and that didn't work any better. Rejected with prejudice.
I thought for a minute and remembered that last time, the nurses had given me a syringe to force it down with. I went to the hall and flagged down a passing nurse and got a syringe. I got about half down with minimal protest, just having to force his mouth open and put the charcoal in, and then he'd swallow without further protest. When he started fighting harder, I put two more syringe worths in and dumped the rest down the sink. I didn't mention that the main effect of the pills he'd taken was to promote urine retention, and Isaac peed right on time while waiting for the charcoal. So I was pretty confident he was fine and didn't see the need to torture both of us unnecessarily.
Even so, there was enough charcoal dripped all over him that I didn't think it was worth the bother of putting his clean clothes on him until he could come home later. I rolled them up into a pillow and when his eyes got heavy, turned off the cartoons, and the light, and tucked him in for a nap.
He slept for 90 minutes, and then it was just a matter of waiting until they let us go. I made the mistake of giving the nurse a pee sample the next time he needed to go to the bathroom -- that delayed us another hour while they analyzed the pee. Isaac and I were both antsy and ready to go, and I was hungry too. At this point it was five o'clock, and I haven't eaten since breakfast. I got Isaac some chips and a drink from a vending machine, but I didn't have enough cash to get any for myself too.
When the doctor came by and told us that we were ready to be discharged and she just needed to find the nurse, and then the nurse walked by in a hurry and told her she'd be with us later, I decided enough was enough and took Isaac's IV out myself and we headed for the door. It turns out you're not supposed to do that, so it's just as well the nurse caught up with us before we exited and had to sign the papers.
All in all, it was pretty similar to a year ago–almost exactly a year ago–when Isaac got into a bottle of advil and again, we just couldn't be sure how many he'd eaten. Since then we've been meticulous about keeping bottles out of his reach, and warning guests to do the same, but as determined as Isaac is about eating things he shouldn't, it was only a matter of time until we got to do this again. The main difference was last time they didn't insist on putting in IV in. (Which was actually a pretty big difference, since this time the first nurse poked him three times unsuccessfully before paging nurse Tammy, apparently the resident expert in phlebotomy. Nurse Tammy got it in the first try.)
Isaac was glad to get home. So glad, he pooped his pants. Ordinarily, I would've been upset, but I was glad to be home too.
There's nothing like visiting a hospital to remind you that you could have real problems. Like the patient to whom I heard a doctor announce, "You have kidney stones! Two of them!" in the tone of voice you'd use to tell Melissa she was going to Sea World tomorrow. Or the woman down the hall moaning loudly in pain. I didn't want to know why.
So no. No complaints here.
Everyone else was almost ready for church when I heard our guests saying things like "how many pills were in the bottle?” and, "how many do you think he ate?”
It sounded like Isaac got into something he shouldn't have. Again.
I went upstairs and sure enough there had been all bottle of 30 pills in their bag. Isaac found it, opened the ostensibly childproof cap, and dumped it into a glass of water nearby. He may or may not have also eaten some first. It was found with blue residue from the pills on his lips in time. Most of the pills were still present in the glass sentiment, so it was clear he hadn't ingested a great deal but exactly how much he had consumed was unclear.
I went in my bedroom and started pulling some pants on. Rachel asked why I was getting dressed. “In case I need to take Isaac to the emergency room,” I told her. I started to add I could take care of it, but she rushed out. I'm not sure there is a good way to explain to your wife that your son might need to go to the ER.
We called poison control and were told that he could have hallucinations or seizures, and that we'd better go to the hospital. I packed a bag with a change of clothing, in case I had to force more charcoal down him, and his favorite blanket so I'd have a chance of getting him to take a nap.
I went to a different hospital this time. The front desk experience was very modern: the receptionist asked me a few questions, took my insurance information and had me sign on a touchscreen. No paper was involved. Once inside though, it was the same as every other doctor's office I've been to: the nurse asked me the same questions the receptionist asked, then the doctor asked the same questions again for good measure.
The Dr. also asked how much he weighed. I told her that they'd just weighed him in at 14.9 in the front office. "14.9 what?” she asked. I thought that was a stupid question, but didn't say so.
Poison control advised the hospital to have an IV ready in case Isaac needed medication or fluids later. He also needed three vials of blood taken for lab work. I told the nurses he should be fine if I held him while they put the needle in, but they didn't believe me, and swaddled him on the bed. He objected vociferously and strenuously to this process, and only calmed down once he'd worked his other arm out. It didn't hurt that I turned Netflix on on my phone to his favorite pink Panther cartoons. They have four nurses around him for the procedure, one to insert the needle and three to hold him down, but when he stopped struggling the extra nurses let go. One commented that she'd seen adults take an IV with more drama.
We had about an hour to burn before his charcoal arrived. The doctor offered to mix it into chocolate milk, but Isaac doesn't like milk. I suggested Apple juice instead. I'm sure was still nasty. At any rate, Isaac thought so: he took a sip from the straw and declared, “No.” I tried to give him some from the cup instead of the straw and that didn't work any better. Rejected with prejudice.
I thought for a minute and remembered that last time, the nurses had given me a syringe to force it down with. I went to the hall and flagged down a passing nurse and got a syringe. I got about half down with minimal protest, just having to force his mouth open and put the charcoal in, and then he'd swallow without further protest. When he started fighting harder, I put two more syringe worths in and dumped the rest down the sink. I didn't mention that the main effect of the pills he'd taken was to promote urine retention, and Isaac peed right on time while waiting for the charcoal. So I was pretty confident he was fine and didn't see the need to torture both of us unnecessarily.
Even so, there was enough charcoal dripped all over him that I didn't think it was worth the bother of putting his clean clothes on him until he could come home later. I rolled them up into a pillow and when his eyes got heavy, turned off the cartoons, and the light, and tucked him in for a nap.
He slept for 90 minutes, and then it was just a matter of waiting until they let us go. I made the mistake of giving the nurse a pee sample the next time he needed to go to the bathroom -- that delayed us another hour while they analyzed the pee. Isaac and I were both antsy and ready to go, and I was hungry too. At this point it was five o'clock, and I haven't eaten since breakfast. I got Isaac some chips and a drink from a vending machine, but I didn't have enough cash to get any for myself too.
When the doctor came by and told us that we were ready to be discharged and she just needed to find the nurse, and then the nurse walked by in a hurry and told her she'd be with us later, I decided enough was enough and took Isaac's IV out myself and we headed for the door. It turns out you're not supposed to do that, so it's just as well the nurse caught up with us before we exited and had to sign the papers.
All in all, it was pretty similar to a year ago–almost exactly a year ago–when Isaac got into a bottle of advil and again, we just couldn't be sure how many he'd eaten. Since then we've been meticulous about keeping bottles out of his reach, and warning guests to do the same, but as determined as Isaac is about eating things he shouldn't, it was only a matter of time until we got to do this again. The main difference was last time they didn't insist on putting in IV in. (Which was actually a pretty big difference, since this time the first nurse poked him three times unsuccessfully before paging nurse Tammy, apparently the resident expert in phlebotomy. Nurse Tammy got it in the first try.)
Isaac was glad to get home. So glad, he pooped his pants. Ordinarily, I would've been upset, but I was glad to be home too.
There's nothing like visiting a hospital to remind you that you could have real problems. Like the patient to whom I heard a doctor announce, "You have kidney stones! Two of them!" in the tone of voice you'd use to tell Melissa she was going to Sea World tomorrow. Or the woman down the hall moaning loudly in pain. I didn't want to know why.
So no. No complaints here.
Monday, May 09, 2011
Tonight's special
Every so often I think maybe Isaac's outgrown recreational chewing. Here's tonight's demonstration that he hasn't -- I heard spitting noises from behind the curtain, and there he was, surrounded by plastic detritus.
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
Rub-a-dub-dub!
I reminded Isaac that he needed to go back and wash his hands after using bathroom. Then I went upstairs to hang up some clothes. When I got back, this is what I found:
He had the water running and was making soap bubbles in the sink. Funny kid!
He had the water running and was making soap bubbles in the sink. Funny kid!
Monday, February 21, 2011
Independence
Isaac didn't want to eat dinner tonight until he took his fruit salad to his own table.
Thursday, February 10, 2011
Saturday, January 01, 2011
Saturday, December 25, 2010
I'll be glad when this isn't funny anymore
Isaac is still making his rounds several times a day. Like a doctor checking on his patients, he checks to make sure everything is on the floor where it belongs.
Monday, November 22, 2010
MINE!
Isaac's favorite word currently is MINE.
If he wants it, it is MINE!
If a sibling has something, it is MINE!
If he ever played with it at anytime, it is MINE!
If he sees something new, it is MINE!
MINE! MINE! MINE!
If it is old and/or broken, eh, it's yours.
The "tumultuous" twos have hit. He can go from oh so cheerful and playful, to a flailing, full body tantrum in seconds flat. Ah yes, we've seen these tricks before! We're on to you kid.
If he wants it, it is MINE!
If a sibling has something, it is MINE!
If he ever played with it at anytime, it is MINE!
If he sees something new, it is MINE!
MINE! MINE! MINE!
If it is old and/or broken, eh, it's yours.
The "tumultuous" twos have hit. He can go from oh so cheerful and playful, to a flailing, full body tantrum in seconds flat. Ah yes, we've seen these tricks before! We're on to you kid.
Tuesday, November 02, 2010
Things Isaac likes
- A camo blanket his Grandpa gave him. He likes it so much Grandpa bought him a spare so we don't have to be so careful to make sure it's out of the wash by bedtime.
- Drawing. On paper, especially when Rachel unrolls butcher paper across the entire width of the table, but also on himself.
- Riding on the Roomba.
- Pizza ("issa!"). This is the only food he calls by name, or the only one we recognize at least. The trick is to cut it into bites for him, otherwise he will just rip the cheese and toppings off and consume that, discarding the rest. About a week ago at lunchtime Isaac started calling hopefully, "issa! issa!" Rachel was so amused that she made him pizza. Isaac was a very happy boy.
- Apples and applesauce.
- Any soda Daddy drinks. Daddy never gets more than 2/3 of a can when Isaac is around. This is a problem when Daddy is drinking something caffeinated.
- Climbing on Daddy's back and going for a ride, especially when chasing the other kids. He got on my back recently and started making roar noises the way the Daddy Monster does, and calling "'ere wissa?" [where's melissa] He understands that being chased is part of the fun but when it is his turn he mostly just runs straight towards me and tries to climb on my back again, and giggles with delight when I take off with him aboard.
- Blues Clues, Kipper, Pingu, and most Disney movies. The movies we watch in French. He does _not_ like The Hunchback of Notre Dame; he wanders off after a couple minutes when I put that one on. He sometimes tolerates Kim Possible or Gundam 00 but mostly to humor his father.
- Nerf darts. I got him a nerf crossbow like the one Matthew had at his age but Isaac is not quite coordinated enough to cock it with his feet. Nor has he entirely outgrown eating the darts. Not sure what the attraction is there, personally.
- Dark chocolate. Takes after his mom and sister that way.
- Climbing. I was shocked that he can wiggle his toes into the cracks between the drawers in the kitchen to climb onto the counter. Babyproofing doesn't work anymore; we've moved to teaching him that "just because you can get into something doesn't mean you should."
- Playing outside, especially with The Big Kids. Riding toys, balls, "painting" the minivan with a bucket of water, chalk on the driveway, or just running around, he loves it. But his favorite is probably when Mom or Dad turn on the water and let him have the hose. He ends up soaked and I think that's part of the fun.
- Bathtime. I'm pretty sure that when he smears cupcake all over his face, then grins and says "buh buh baa!" happily that he made the mess on purpose.
- Chicken. Thai satay, wendy's nuggets, texas barbecue, rotisserie from the grocery store, he likes it all. The other meat he likes is bacon.
- Green beans, corn, peas, carrots, pretty much any finger-food vegetable. But not potatoes.
- Ice cream and popsicles. You have to be careful with these: he has sharp ears. The other night I spelled out, "too bad we don't have any i c e c r e a m." Matthew: "You mean ice cream?" Isaac was out of his seat like a shot to the freezer where he stood expectantly. He was a very disappointed little boy.
- Matthew and Melissa coming home from school.
- All crackers, but animal crackers and wheat thins are his favorites.
- Cracklin' Oat Bran and Oatmeal Squares.
- "Reading" with Mommy. Mostly he just wants to turn the pages.
- Sneezing. "Achoo!" he says, and tries to do it again.
Saturday, October 23, 2010
Isaac making his rounds
When Isaac is bored he goes through the house pulling things off the shelf and generally making a mess.
Isaac is bored several times a day.
Isaac is bored several times a day.
Monday, October 18, 2010
Isaac can open "isaac-proof" latches now
Apologies for the blurry photo; I had time for exactly one try before putting a stop to the carnage.
Yes, we have a lot of board games.
Yes, we have a lot of board games.
Saturday, September 04, 2010
Isaac's lightsaber
Isaac saw Matthew clip a lightsaber to his pants. Nothing else would do but have Daddy clip his likewise. He was immensely pleased, but not permanently satisfied -- he kept unclipping it to wave it around, then bringing it back to me for the clip treatment.
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