Sick Day... Make That Week

We've had our ups and downs with Oliver's health this year. It started out rough with two visits to the ER within six weeks at the beginning of the year for wheezing. Both times he was in such bad shape that he skipped triage and went straight back to be seen (it's never a good sign when your kiddo is the sickest one in the ER). After those scares we went to his doctor to try and get his breathing troubles under control. We ran some allergy tests (turns out he's allergic to grass but not to animal dander) and the doctor put him on a preventative steroid regimen - two breathing treatments a day for a year. And since then he's done great. A few colds here and there but nothing too serious and no wheezing.

All that changed this week. He started feeling sick on Sunday and by Monday morning was coughing and wheezing so badly that I had to keep him home with me. We did an albuterol treatment and the wheeze cleared up but he still wasn't feeling great. Tuesday morning was the same story. By Tuesday afternoon we thought he'd be able to go back to school the next day but then he spiked a fever. Wednesday he stayed home with Brian and they went to the doctor. She said it was probably viral and only time would take care of it. Fever spiked again Wednesday night and he was home again with Brian on Thursday. He seemed to be getting better Thursday but then started throwing up and threw out a super high fever Thursday night. So, no school on Friday either. Luckily my stepfather was able to watch him on Friday so Brian and I could get some work done (thank you, thank you, thank you, Richard!). And the weekend seems to have given him enough time to recover so we'll be back to our routine tomorrow.

He's never missed more than two days of school in a row before so this week was stressful (Brian and I are both really looking forward to a normal work day tomorrow). But, even though he was pretty sick this week, he never had an asthmatic episode like he had been having earlier this year - the steroids really do seem to be helping even if it was extremely difficult to recognize that this past week.

Halloween 2012

This is the first year that Oliver has really "gotten" Halloween. He decided on his costume himself and spent days looking forward to the candy coming his way. At first he said he wanted to be Pete the Cat again. We told him he had to pick something different and he chose Woody from Toy Story. I didn't want to get him a store-bought costume but I was also crazy busy and didn't have time to make him one. Enter my talented mother. We went shopping a few weeks ago for supplies for the costume and she created the whole thing herself. I think it looked great!

My absolute favorite part of the whole costume was the loop for Woody's pull string on the back of the vest. So cute. And the best thing about it was that it was comfortable and he didn't mind wearing it.

On Halloween day, we all went to the fall festival at his school and then headed home to hand out candy. We set up chairs in the front lawn and waited for the trick-or-treaters. Oliver took his candy handing out duties very seriously. After a bit, he and Brian set out so he could do his own trick-or-treating. They were gone almost an hour (last year he made it to about three houses and then was done) and Brian said he did great at every house - saying "trick or treat" and "thank you" to everyone.

At the park (post by Brian)...

It doesn’t make any sense, but it happens. Or it happened. When Oliver was born, I loved him right away. And, despite what some greeting cards will tell you, my love for him hasn’t grown in almost three years of life. I loved him fully and completely from the start. But something happened about a month ago that I can’t stop thinking about, so I thought I’d share a story with you.

I picked Oliver up from school and we went to the park. Pease Park is in the middle of Austin, and has a huge footprint, with two play areas, basketball courts, a running trail, and wide, grassy areas for running and falling. It’s a great park. The first thing that I notice when I get Oliver out of the car at Pease is that he immediately starts planning his attack. Making decisions about where to start, what’s new, or what can he try this time that he was too small or too timid to try last time. It’s one of my favorite things to see, Oliver’s furrowed brow as he scans the park, thinking hard about his decision.

This particular day, Oliver scanned quickly, and his eyes widened. There was a group of four kids playing in an open area. They had an oversized, plush Frisbee that they took turns flinging and chasing. It was obvious what O’s choice was, so he started inching towards this motley crew of children. I always let him walk in front of me, and he’s usually happy to do so, but this time he held back. He grabbed my leg, walked to the left, then walked to the right, getting closer to his target, but slowly. I let him go at his own speed, but I could feel that he was being shy. That’s ok. After a few more moments of posturing, he turned to me,

“Daddy, I want to play with them.”

“Go for it,” I said.

“Help me,” he pleaded.

I said, “No. If you want to play, then you have to go over, introduce yourself, and ask if you can hang out with them.”

“Daddy, please….” Pathetic, soft voice.

“No.” I stood my ground, but was about to cave, when…

Oliver looked at me, looked at the kids, and did the math in his head. I saw it like a light being turned on. He made his decision. His chest puffed out, his head pointed forward, and he stomped over to the group of children. If you’ve ever watched Oliver walk with a purpose, you know it’s not a delicate thing. He pounds the ground with his feet, punishing the earth for being in his way. He swings his arms in a tight, powerful circle that has intention all over it. He didn’t look back once. When he got to the kids, he introduced himself and asked if he could have a turn. A little redhead named Liam handed Oliver the Frisbee, and Oliver, ecstatic, threw it with all his strength. The plush projectile smacked Liam right between the eyes.

What I like about this story is that I gave Oliver advice to do something I would never be able to do myself. I see people I want to meet every day, but I don’t go talk to them. I play the coward, and I go on without ever giving myself the chance to meet some really nice folks. Oliver was brave, and his bravery was rewarded.

Like I mentioned before, I’ve loved Oliver completely from the moment I met him, but until this moment in the park, when he puffed out his chest and acted boldly and without fear, I never realized how much I respect him as a person. He jumps into life with passion in a way I’m going to try and emulate.

First Day of School Part Two

I thought he would whine this morning as we started to leave. I thought there would be tears. I thought there would be a scene. I imagined him screaming and clawing at me as I walked out the door. Boy, was I wrong. 

Oliver woke up this morning around 7:30. I walked in and asked him what day it was. He cried out: “Monday!” I said: “And what is Monday?” ... “My First Day of School! I’m going to the library!” (You would have to have read the new Pete the Cat book to get the last part but his enthusiasm translates either way). We ate some breakfast, grabbed his lunch, backpack and Pete the Cat doll and headed out the door.

The entire way to school we talked about the day. He told me over and over again: “It’s my first day of school!” We talked about how he should share with his friends and shouldn’t throw fits. He told me that if he got frustrated he would “take a deep breath and walk away and calm down.” He reminded me that he would stay at school all day and that I would pick him up when I was done at BookPeople. After ten minutes of grilling him on proper school behavior, he had enough and asked me: “Mommy, can we listen to the Talking Heads?”

So, we listened to Burning Down the House as we pulled into the parking lot. Oliver kept saying: “It’s Burning Down the House! Burning Down the House!” I didn’t bother him about it but said a quick prayer that those words wouldn’t be the first words out of his mouth at school. 

We walked in, went to his classroom and got him settled with the help of a teacher’s aide. His classmates were out on the playground so we went out and joined them. Oliver immediately threw himself into playing. I chatted with his teacher for a few minutes and then it was the big moment. The dreaded Good-Bye. I went over to Oliver, knelt down solemnly and told him it was time for me to leave. He looked up at me with his big sweet eyes and said: “Bye, Mom” and ran off to keep playing. Absolutely perfect.

I left the building, shed a few tears in my car and headed off to work. I spent all day with my phone in my pocket but never heard from the school (the director asked me when I left if I wanted them to call me and give me an update. I decided to be brave like Oliver and declined the offer). Around 3 o’clock I was desperate to rush over and pick him up but I forced myself to stay at the store until 4.

I walked into the school and was greeted by the teacher’s aide that had helped get us set up this morning and he gave me the best news ever. And I quote: “He was awesome today! He told everyone it was his first day of school! I didn’t hear him upset at all today!” What a relief! I got into his classroom and the entire classroom was running around without their shirts on (they had been doing a messy painting project). They all looked so happy and excited. Oliver was in the corner playing with some toy or other and didn’t hear me come in. I watched him for a few minutes before calling out to him. He looked up and said: “Hi, Mom! It’s my first day of school!” and went back to playing. 

I don’t think we could have asked for a better first day. I know the other shoe could drop at any moment but even this evening all he could talk about was how he would go back to school tomorrow and he was happy about it. I’m pretty sure he didn’t nap today at all but he was still in a pleasant mood this evening so I’m not worried about that problem yet (ask me in a few days). I’m very impressed with my little man right now and am so grateful this first day went so smoothly.

First Day of School Part One

Tomorrow is a big day in the Contine household. After over two years of staying home with Brian and over six weeks of staying home with whoever could watch him after Brian started working (huge THANKS to Laurie, my mom, and Ann, by the way), Oliver is finally starting day care tomorrow. We found  a school that we love (Open Door Preschool) and after almost two months of badgering them we secured a spot and a start date. I should be relieved. The last two weeks, I have been (almost) solely responsible for O’s care during the week on top of trying to do my full time job and I have done both tasks rather poorly. I should be excited to get back into a routine. To be able to do the same thing every day will be good not only for Oliver but for me. I miss being at the store and I miss being able to give my full attention to my work during the day.

I should be excited and instead I am a wreck. O is taking the news that he is going to school tomorrow in stride. He can tell me that in the morning he will pack Pete in his backpack and I will drive him to school. I will drop him off and he will play with his friends, eat lunch and take a nap there until I come to pick him up in the afternoon. And he knows that he will do that every day except Saturday and Sunday from here on out. He seems set and yet I know there will be tears in the morning. My tears, however, have already started.

I am mourning the end of O’s time at home with his dad (which, in reality, ended six weeks ago). I am mourning the end of the period of his life in which he spent every moment with one of his parents or grandparents. I know school will be great for him... that he will flourish in the new reality of not being the center of adult attention and that spending time with kids his own age will do him nothing but good. But still I’m sad and I’m anxious about our new routine.

I haven’t sat still at all today - filling my day with meaningless tasks trying to prepare us for tomorrow. I’ve done laundry, made stuff for lunches, packed and repacked Oliver’s backpack and yet I’m still not ready. I have so many questions about how this whole day care thing will work. Do I need to bring diapers? If so, how many? Can I just leave a stash at the school? What about wipes? What about nap time? Will he sleep? What could I send with him to make it more likely that he will? Will he like his teachers? His classmates? Ugh. I’m more nervous for O’s first day of school than he is. 

Here goes nothing. 

A Day (Or Two Years) in the Life Of...

This is from Brian, who recently started working full time for the first time since Oliver was born(more on that later).

When I was in high school I had a low rider. It was a brand new, white Honda Civic Ex, dropped, with a loud muffler, and a loud stereo. It was clean, and I was on top of the world. I felt like a celebrity. If you would have asked me then, I would have told you that that was the most fun I’d ever have. Like most seventeen year olds, I was wrong about a great many things. I’m a little older now, and not prone to the same pitfalls that riddled my teenage years, but I will once again unequivocally announce that the last two years are going to be the best years of my life. 

Most anyone who would be reading this blog knows that I haven’t always taken the straightest path. I’ve fallen a few times. To say that Elizabeth and I sat down and made the choice to have me stay home with Oliver would be a lie. I wasn’t doing well at school, and graduation seemed to be getting further away. So, out of necessity, I stayed home with Oliver, worked a couple of nights a week at the bookstore, and tried to support my family in every way that wasn’t financial. It wasn’t a perfect plan, but it was a plan that worked. We ate, laughed, and flourished as a family. I’ve started a new job now, and I love it, but I wanted to take a few minutes to remember what it was like to be a stay at home parent. 

Most days at our house start with poop. Oliver almost always fills his diaper in the night, so one of us gets up and immediately changes him. He doesn’t get terrible diaper rashes, but they come when we don’t get to the dirty diaper fast enough. Diaper changing starts the day fast, and with not much room for anything else. So, the first thing you should know about my two years with Oliver is that I didn’t shower much. Maybe 3 times a week. It bothered me sometimes, but mostly it didn’t matter. After poop comes play. Our little bundle of joy is a morning person. His most energetic, focused play comes right when he wakes up. I would get my coffee, sit down and watch him. You can’t do this at 4 in the afternoon; he’s not really an afternoon baby. But between 6:30 and 8:30 you can watch him explore. These were the times that I felt fully appreciative of this experience. It’s also on one of these days that I realized that I wouldn’t change places with anyone in the world. We all fantasize about being someone else, for me it’s always Michael Jordan or Gertrude Stein, but after these relatively quiet mornings, I’m sure that my favorite thing to be is Oliver’s dad. I wouldn’t exchange it for money, genius, France, or the ability to do a 360 degrees dunk. Although the dunk would be second. 

Then the fear sets in. Elizabeth has gone to work. We waved to her from our dog slobber stained window, cried, and set about our day. Oliver is an active child. He likes to move, and he likes to be outside. This is great, but if I didn’t provide activities or excitement, he’d turn on me quick. Boredom is his most unlikeable state of being. He’s horrible at being bored. At the beginning it was harder. He couldn’t walk, so most parks were above his level. He was also taking two naps a day, so there was a pretty short window between when we could leave, and when we had to be back for eating and sleeping. Every once in a while we went to the nice park in our neighborhood that has only a few drug dealers stationed there, and we walked Town Lake sometimes, but my day almost always included a trip to some store. Grocery stores are an Oliver favorite, he thinks that everyone is there just to wave at him, and sometimes it seemed like he was right. We walked slowly up and down the aisle, talking about Mac & Cheese, and getting our miniscule assortment of six items. We didn’t want to get too much, because then we couldn’t come back tomorrow. It wasn’t efficient, but it was. 

After he got a little older, we lost a nap and ventured into Austin. The Children’s Museum was a hot spot, BookPeople was a must when Miss Staci was singing, and we battled our fare share of peacocks, but the place we visited most was the Science and Nature Center. It had all the characteristics we cherished most: outside and inside areas, shade, water, animals, and dirt. Not to mention, it’s free. The part I love the most about the center is the back trail. If you go to the owl exhibit and keep walking south, you’ll come to a fence, usually open, with a fifteen inch drop-off onto a trail. The trail is completely shaded and serene. There’s almost never anyone else there. We would walk about a quarter mile (probably less) in and come upon a dry creek bed. This bed provided rocks for me to sit on and rocks for Oliver to throw. We’d sit there for an hour or so, drink some water, and practice throwing small rocks at big rocks. I tried to take pictures, but they never came out the way I saw the place in my head.  

We’d get home, and it’d be time for lunch and a nap.  Nap time hasn’t changed much since he was an infant. We cuddle, we read stories, and we sing a song or two. I’ve been at my new job for three weeks now, and I can’t tell you how much I miss putting him down for his nap. He used to read two stories, now he reads three, and is begging for four. We’ll probably move onto longer stories in place of the fourth, but I feel silly complaining about the length of story time. Oliver Finds His Way, Charlie Parker Played Bebop, Art & Max, and Good Dog, Carl are some of my favorites, but I highly recommend The Tin Forest for those prone to sentimentality, like me. After stories, we give the dogs a kiss and a hug, and move to the rocking chair. I used to sing him the ABC’s because it was the only song I was sure I could remember when I was exhausted, and he seemed to like it. Over the last year I’ve been singing him the theme song to Cheers. He and I both like the song, and it’s turned into a duet. Now that he’s a little older, he doesn’t fall asleep in my arms, which was sad, but it’s been replaced with a big hug and kiss. He grabs his bedmates, Pete the Cat, Grover, and a rubber football, and goes to sleep. 

Post nap is Oliver’s toughest time, and I found myself constantly looking to the clock to see when my lovely wife would be home. It was sometimes too hot to go out, and I found myself with no energy to battle him into cloths, into the car, out into the world, and back again in time for dinner. So, we spent afternoons at the house. This meant one thing: Dance Party! I would turn the music up way too loud and we would bounce off the walls until we were too tired to do anything but fall down. I’m sure the neighbors were curious about all those strange sounds coming from my house, but sometimes you just gotta be loud. Some of the favorite selections were Mumford & Sons, Townes Van Zandt, Guy Clark, The Beatles, and Kanye West. But when we wanted to get really loud, and I mean REALLY LOUD, we’d choose Miles Davis, Arcade Fire, or The Tiny Tin Hearts. Lately I’ve been digging through Chuck’s (Elizabeth’s Dad) old records and we’ve been playing a couple of those every day. He’s split between Simon & Garfunkel and Cat Stevens as the most requested. We’ll continue the debates on Saturdays and Sundays.

Elizabeth told me a month ago that I should take the time to enjoy my last few days as a stay at home parent and I tried. But it’s something that no matter how hard you try to take it in completely, it eludes you. The experience can’t be recreated, and it is unequaled by anything I’ve ever done. If you want to get my dad talking about the past, there’s only one way to do it, get his little sister Linda to start the conversation. I remember one particular trip to Mt Charleston with the family. Aunt Linda got my dad talking about something, and it came around to how he got drafted, and how he left school. At the time it was not the plan he had in mind, but without the mistakes, he wouldn’t have become the father and husband he’s become. He said something to the car, but I’ll take it as advice straight to me, “Some of my biggest mistakes have been my best decisions.” I didn’t choose to be a stay at home parent, and it was a necessity built on my mistakes, but it’s the best time I’ll ever have, and I’m grateful to my wife for the sacrifices she’s made, and I’m thankful to Oliver for noticing buses.

Chinwagger

So, I wanted to call this entry “Chatterbox” but I have an entry titled that from over a year ago. After a quick search of an online thesaurus, I settled on my favorite synonym. Hence, “Chinwagger.”

Oliver has been going through a bit of an explosion when it comes to his verbal development. He regularly speaks in full sentences (many of which we can actually understand!) and does a play by play of everything that anyone is doing (Brian calls him Marv Albert, although I prefer Al Michaels). The gist of it is that whereas at one point we were concerned that he would never talk, we now regularly wonder whether he will ever shut up! I thought it would be nice to jot down some of the funnier/cuter things he’s said in the last couple of months.

Grandma came to stay with us for Oliver’s birthday. She took a shower one day (well, many days but one day in particular) and came out of the room with her hair wet and spiked all over the place. Oliver looked at her and said: “Grandma. Dry your hair.” She toweled it off and left it spiky and Oliver said: “Comb?” and handed her a comb. She combed through her hair but left it looking a little crazy and Oliver looked at her, thought for a moment and then said: “Hat?”

Brian turned on Simon and Garfunkel a few weeks ago while Oliver was eating cereal standing at his train table. The music started and Oliver started dancing all over the place while he was trying to eat. He looked up at Brian and cried: “Daddy! This music (pronounced “mizkit”) makes my feet move!”

Oliver grabbed a bag the other day and came up to us and said: “Bye, Mommy and Daddy! I be right back! I have to go get a tiger.” We asked him where he was going to get a tiger, and he replied: “Target.”

Brian took Oliver to the splash pad. Oliver took a kid by the hand, dragged him over to Brian and said: “This is Brian.” So much for “Daddy.” 

Today, driving home from work, I started coughing. Oliver says: “Mommy sneezed!” I said: “No. Mommy coughed.” Oliver says: “Nooooooooooo! Mommy SNEEZED.” Okay, kid, I sneezed. Sheesh.

But my absolute favorite thing about this latest verbal spurt is that he now regularly, without prompting will come up to me, wrap his arms around me and say: “I love you a green bus, Mommy.” It’s the best thing in the entire world.