The worst game of tag

At the moment I have two sick kids on my hands, my five month old boy caught a little cough last week which has turned into a nasty cold and terrible cough, and now three year old sister ends up with a cold as well. Hence the worst game of tag ever! I guess it's just unavoidable that when one gets sick the other is bound to get it as well. It seems like my three year old constantly has a slight cold of some sort, probably from being around all the other snot nosed kiddies at preschool three days a week. But she recently learned how to blow her nose, so her colds are much easier to deal with. Dealing with a sick five month old is a whole other story, I can only do so much with the trusty booger sucker. And with his cough continuing to get worse I decided to take him to the doctor yesterday, if for nothing else then to set mine and my wife's minds at ease, which is exactly what happened. The doctor examined little man and said his lungs and ears were both clear so we just have to wait out the cold. But two good things actually came of the visit. First off on the way to the doctor's office baby boy was coughing away in his car seat and after a few hard coughs he clearly stated his first word..."Ow!" Which even if it is just a little slang for the more common ouch I am totally counting as word numero uno. And secondly after inquiring about the use of that Vick's baby rub stuff the doctor told me to rub it not on his chest but on his feet, which totally seems to be working to get rid of his cold and cough.

Who's to blame?

There has been an ongoing debate in our house about the water we are mixing my son's formula with...we have been using the water from the tap, which as far as I'm concerned is just fine, but not in my lovely wife's opinion. I thought with the second kid we were done worrying about all that stuff, but apparently not. With our daughter it was nursery water and bottle warmers all the way, as well as sterilized pacifiers as soon as they even came near the floor. But with baby boy it's been a whole different story, pretty much just the five second rule in full effect. So that's why this whole water thing has caught me off guard, I mean he's now over five months old so why the big to do now? Apparently my wife read something about the dangers of lead levels in water, especially in rehabbed buildings where the builder neglected to replace old pipes, just like our condo. So next thing you know I'm at the Ace looking for do it yourself water quality tests, and I finally find a home kit that clearly states right on the package, Free lead in water test inside. So I pay the twelve bucks and head for home to test our water, already feeling confident that it will be safe. However once I get home and open up the kit I find every other test there is, and a card to send in for a free lead test, which says once receiving the test I can send it in with a thirty dollar money order or check to get the results. How lame is that? Talk about false advertising! Well I test the water for all the other things the kit actually came with, and discover our water quality is perfect, but I still don't know about the lead. At this point it's time for baby boy's next bottle, and I'm thinking just go with the tap water like we've been doing for five months. And lets not forget that we were all raised with tap water and turned out just fine...at least for the most part. So I give wifey a call at work to see what she thinks I should do, and she is pretty adamant about no more tap until the lead is tested, even after I tried my best to convince her that all the other tests came back safe which means there is probably no lead either, but she just wasn't having any of it. Next thing you know I'm busting out the nursery water and bottle warmer and fixing baby boy his bottle, but he was starting to fuss so I was doing all this while holding him. I get the bottle all heated up and ready and then while still holding baby boy I pick up the bottle warmer with my left hand and proceed to dump it out into the sink. Obviously forgetting that the bottle warmer uses super heated water and steam to heat aforementioned bottle therefore I burned the crap out of my finger, we're talking third degree here, the skin was basically dripping off. So the first thing I do after screaming and dumping baby boy down in his bouncy seat is to call my wife and yell at her for making me burn my finger off. I mean you tell me, who's to blame?

Angels and Demons

My son is now just over five months old and has been the most incredibly easy baby of all time, some might even say he is an angel. I know I have said it many times...I mean he was sleeping through the night at four or five weeks, never cried, just basically the perfect baby. But the past week or so it seems like the demon switch somehow got flipped, and the angel may be gone. But he can't be gone forever, I just can't let him slip away to the dark side. But I guess I just have to realize I can't control everything...especially a five month old. So this past weekend my wife had a girlfriend in town who was staying at a swank hotel downtown so she spent the night there on Saturday...and what do you know, worst night of my life. Alright I may be exaggerating but it was really rough. It started off when we dropped her off downtown and baby boy fell asleep in the car, which he usually does, but instead of sleeping in his car seat for his usual hour to hour and a half, his little eyes popped open as soon as we got back in the door at home. So that is where the trouble began, because he really needed that long nap, not the fifteen minute one he actually took. I now suddenly have the fussiest baby of all time on my hands, won't eat, won't let me put him down, just not having any of it. And what do you know, his grumpiness immediately starts rubbing off on my three year old, who now also wants me to hold her. So I'm now carrying fifty pounds of kid around the house and slowly starting to melt down myself. Luckily my daughter lets me distract her with her dinner and a movie and I can now try to concentrate on dealing with demon boy. Don't even ask how I managed to get her dinner ready while holding both of them...it wasn't pretty. So after another failed attempt at putting baby boy down to sleep it is now sister's bedtime...and low and behold she does not go quietly. But I do eventually get her down about an hour past her normal bedtime, while still holding baby brother fussing and screaming in my ear pretty much the whole time. I think she actually went to bed just so she wouldn't have to listen to him cry anymore. So now baby boy has not slept or eaten in way to long and I have to make my stand. So I finally do get him to take his bottle by wrapping him up in his miracle blanket and rocking him while also jumping up and down. And he falls asleep, until I try and replace the bottle with his pacifier...and then the demon is unleashed once again. He is just screaming and crying in my face, so in a moment of pure insanity I think maybe if I scream right back in his face he will stop...bad move...he just turns it up about twenty decibels. He actually does start to fall back asleep, but while sleeping he continues to scream and cry... how is that even possible? But after another twenty minutes or so of rocking and bouncing the screaming and crying subsides and he sleeps for real, somehow immediately transforming himself back into angel baby.

Oh the things they will say!

As we were getting ready for school and work yesterday my daughter turns to Mommy as she was changing brother's diaper and says, "Mother, he is the cutest man in town." And of course I couldn't just let that slide so I asked her what about me and she responds, "Father, you're the cutest man in town too, you stinkin jellyfish." Which was followed by a nice warm round of giggles all around. Obviously the jellyfish reference comes from the fact that at this point she thinks she lives in a pineapple under the sea with all the Spongebob she watches, but where did she get the whole mother and father thing, just weeks ago it was dada and momma. I feel like we're suddenly raising English royalty. As far as the amount of love she has for her little brother we are so lucky in that respect, because I've seen it go the other way with siblings and it's not pretty. But as far as all the things coming out of her mouth these days most are cute and sweet, but not always. My wife had taken her over to a girlfriend's house for a playdate recently and after dropping a marker off the table my daughter yelled "F*#k" and as if saying it once wasn't enough she then proceeded to sing "f$&k, f*$k, f%+K, f&$k, f@#k." She then finished it off with a resounding "F&%K!, sometimes my daddy says f&%k." So not only did she drop the f-bomb like a truck driving sailor but totally sold me out to mommy. She must of caught me saying it in the car one day, but it's really not my fault that no one else on the planet knows how to drive and that I always feel compelled to tell them. I guess from now on I really need to tone my rants down to PG levels. But for the most part she amazes me daily with the incredible things she says, and I can only hope she isn't singing her expletive songs at preschool. Click the video below to see for yourself.

Outgrowing our shell

As these two kids of ours continue to grow and get bigger our two bedroom condo just keeps getting smaller and smaller. I feel like we are four hermit crabs fighting for space in one tiny shell. And these kids are growing really fast, especially the little guy who gets fatter by the hour! So what to do, as I've mentioned before the burbs are looming somewhere in our future but we would like to stay in the city as long as possible, and I just don't know if it makes sense to try and move into a three bedroom condo or townhouse for a short period of time. Or does it, I mean I really can't move an inch in this house without stepping on a squeaky toy, a doll of some sort, or tripping over an exersaucer. These two tiny people have accumulated a lot of stuff, which is in desperate need of some sort of playroom or separate space. For now the giant baby boy is living in our room with us, but how long can that go on for? With his pack and play set up right next to our bed, which is very convenient for the middle of the night feedings, I have about six inches of space to get through on my way into or out of the room. Which inevitably leads to at least 3 or 4 stubbed toes a week, especially in the late night hours when I can't even scream bloody murder like I'd like to. The next logical step would be for the two little ones to share my daughter's room, in all its lavender glory. Why should I care if the little guy has to live in a purple room for a little while, I know he won't know the difference, so why does it bother me. I spoke to my dad about it and he reassured me that we really don't have it so bad at all. He told me when he was growing up he and his two sisters had to share a room while my grandparents slept on a pull out sofa in the living room. But he also told me that he had to walk five miles to school uphill both ways through blizzards and hurricanes, so who knows. I guess we will just do whatever we have to do.

Preschool predicament

I had no idea how hard preschool could be. Not the finger painting and learning of the abc's but the finding and getting into the right preschool for my three year old daughter. Right now she is attending a private preschool because she missed the cutoff for the Chicago Public School system which is September 15th and her birthday is November 6th. But I guess part of the price of living life in the big city is the insanity of trying to get your kids into preschool. I had no idea how crazy it would be, I mean people actually put their kids on waiting lists for certain schools before they're even born! So we want our daughter to go to a public preschool for next year so this past fall we had to join in the insanity of finding and applying to all these different schools, which I have to be honest is just no fun. Most of these schools actually run a lottery to fill the spots available, and supposedly you almost have a better chance of winning the real lottery. Which would be sweet but come on! It's crazy! Our other options include homeschooling or moving to the burbs. Obviously the homeschooling thing is not going to happen because I actually want my kids to learn and if I'm stuck doing the teaching there's a very good possibility that will not happen. And moving to the burbs has been discussed for the future, but we really don't want to do it yet. Plus if we did move to the burbs most of the schools are good and we would not have to fight tooth and nail to secure a spot, but my wife's commute would go from about ten minutes to possibly up to two hours a day if not more. Which would mean daddy might lose his mind even faster than expected! The other part of the dilemma is that most of the preschools are tuition based, and not peanuts, some serious cash, the kind I hoped I wouldn't have to start shelling out until college. Anyway I really needed to get that out there and vent a little bit, so thanks!!

Daddy's time out

My three year old daughter goes to preschool three days a week now and for some reason I'm obsessed with what she eats for lunch. I know they serve good healthy food but for some reason I just really want her to tell me what she has for lunch everyday, even though I could easily just pick up a copy of the menu or ask her teacher. Now that I've begun writing this I am realizing even more how insane it is, but anyway. Normally on the car ride home she would tell me about her day and then tell me what she "tried" for lunch. But as of late she simply says I don't want to talk about it...the lunch part that is. And it makes me crazy...I just want her to tell me! So the other day I waited until after the ride home when she was comfortably settled on the couch watching Dora and asked her in my sweetest daddy tone, "What did you have for lunch today sweety?" Blank stare. "Uhm sweety pie, what did you have for lunch today?" Blank stare. "This television is going off until you tell me what you had for lunch today!!" Blank stare with tears forming. "That's it, you go sit on the stairs until you tell me what you ate for lunch today!" Full on tears as I pick her up and place her on stairs while she screams "NOOOOO!" Alright time to change tactics..."Sweetheart you're not in trouble I just want to know what you ate for lunch today." Blank stare with tears. So this back and forth continued a couple more times until I realized I was acting like the three year old and she just wants to chill after a long day of school and watch her shows. So upon this realization I turned Dora back on and sat myself on the stairs until I calmed down. Then about half an hour later she turns to me with no prompting and says "Daddy I had green beans, crackers and milk for lunch, I'm sorry I made you angry." So I guess once in a while daddy is the one who really needs the time out!