Archive for the ‘Daycare’ Category

It’s Pajama Day!

Unfortunately, Abby’s sick, so she needs prescription meds.

As you well know, it’s hectic when you get two girls into Day Care.  Abby first said that she lost her shoes — an impossibility considering that I saw them go into the car.  I looked in the floor, beside her seat and on the other side.  Then, I found them on Lilly’s feet.  Strange, but logical.   Abby out-thinks her Dad sometimes.

Abby, having again refused to put her shoes on top of her PJs footies, demanded a carry in.  I wasn’t confident about carrying both, so I callously abandoned our youngest with a thick, well-situated blanket.  I then threw Lilly’s bottle strap and diaper containers over my shoulder.  I placed Abby’s Nystatin in my coat pocket.  Yeah, don’t forget the official box.  Couldn’t find the original cap of the new med.  Although the box was crushed and contained an imposter from a previous prescription (Grace’s name was scratched off before Abby’s name was taped over it.), I rolled with it.

The tube was smaller.  The lid and box were there, so I know we fooled them.  Or at least it qualified as legitimate.

“Bye, Lilly.  Just keep crying until Daddy comes back.  It’ll keep you warm and distracted.”

Abby started yelling and asking where Erin was. — “Honey, I’m the best we have right now.”  [thought:  Just be lucky I’m not making you wear your footies on the 33 degree pavement and desperately guess the entrance combination while I softly stroll and quietly smile, child.]

Having no confidence that she’d agree to walk herself, I swiftly carried Abby in to drop Abby to Amanda with her coat on.  “Be right back, Amanda!”

Got Lilly from under her thick, thick blanket.  I thought, “You don’t mouth off — yet.”  Dropped her off with Diana.  Be right back.

Went back to Amanda.  Explained need to treat Abby’s yeast infection.  Something I don’t identify with personally or actually quite understand.  “Know Wacky Wednesday, Amanda?”  Of course she did.  I explained that Abby absolutely insisted that today was the day that shoes don’t match.  Only it’s not Wednesday — it’s Tuesday.  Twisted Tuesday?  Alliteration is tougher here, isn’t it?  I quickly tried to catch Amanda’s eyes.  Though not a parent herself, she’d been around kids enough to understand irrational demands.  She flashed a look of understanding.  It was one of humorous acknowledgement rather than bitter judgment.  After all, isn’t it a plausible cover-up for a lazy, confused, and sleep deprived parent?  Surprisingly, it was an intentional mismatch.  Seriously.

I documented the need to apply twice today.  (the fraction of 4x since we’d treat the infection before/after).  She confirmed protocol with April, the veteran from Toddlers, who’d hosted (tolerated?) our first two kids.  April definitely knows what’s on the horizon with Lilly.  Anyway, like a good soldier, Amanda explained that I needed to lock the medicine up front with Nadima, the admin.  — Nope, she wasn’t there.  The Director wasn’t there.  Does anybody else have the key?  Do I really have to ask that…?  I hope you wouldn’t.

In the meantime, I left the Nystatin imposter with Amanda.  I can only comply to a reasonable extent while my smile drained from my face.  I went back into the infants where I’d stashed Lilly on the supervised boppy before rushing back to have that yeasty conversation in Twos.  Assembled cloth diapers correctly.  Put milk in fridge.  Directed Diana to use the blue bottle first.  Bothered to explain that medical treatment.  Why?  I have no idea.  Filled out written daily.  Made up the numbers.

Went back to Nadima’s desk  She’s there, in pajamas of course.  She explained that she still needed written doctor signatures.  Sure, that makes sense.  Glad that such regulations exist.  Could I facilitate this?  Let’s see.

  1. Find number.  Knew name.  Wait, why does “Raleigh Pediatrics” have a branch in Garner?  Whatever.
  2. Looked up number on my phone.  Called fax number.  Stupid me realized that I need the *phone* # in order to tell them my yeasty situation Got phone tree.  Messed up extension.  Not medical records.  Not X.  Not Y.  Not Z. Wondered why this isn’t more clearly articulated.  Although I admire their efficiency, I hate phone trees.  At least design one well.
  3. After the fourth screwup (noting that it takes two damn long to listen to all the wrong choices.  Who would call Raleigh Pediatrics for a medical emergency?  Isn’t 911 a bit more obvious?  I feel sorry for the poor soul who inspired that for illness, yet I express disdain against legal services, if that’s the source of inclusion.  — Okay, back to this phone tree that’s pissed me off.  I wonder if Raleigh Pediatrics treats parental ADD.  
  4. Drop the responsible participation and hit the operator.  Regret that I didn’t do that the first time.  
  5. I had to explain twice to the (admittedly kind admin who rescued me from this phone tree).  “I’m the parent.  I’m at Day Care.  I need a doc signature.  I have the form.  May I fax it to X for medical acknowledgement? — one would think that the original (correct, but imposter) packaging would confirm proper treatment.  Maybe that’s an interpretation from a bitter parent who could never get a yeast infection.  I digress in ADD fashion.
  6. After scattering some random humor to lighten the regulatory obstacles, I explain with patent detail what’s about to hit her fax machine.   She understood, and I glimpse accomplishment.


Went back to Twos.  Explained the situation.  Filled out Daily.  Made up the numbers.  Better guesses here though.  Amanda asked when Lilly should receive those two treatments.  I thought, whenever.  Yeah, that infection is going to be angry *whenever* you throw that calibrated jello at it.  I asked her advice in order to invite her into this brisk discussion.  She said based on potty training.  — Gosh, I hope I don’t fall into that situation myself.  Decades from now, my advanced age might make me qualify for such questions.  At least I won’t have a yeast infection. 

Went back to Nadima.  Confirmed that all was in order.  Won’t have to do anything else but sign the form tonight.  She added, ” Don’t forget to pick up the Nystatin as well.  It’s not like you have more of that at home.”  — I smiled knowing that this day may return.  At least I know to streamline and circumvent the phone tree.  We’ll be quite mindful to keep all the Nystatins that enter our house. 

Go back to kiss Lilly.  Does she know who I am yet?  Hope so.  I’m making the same noises every time I tickle her belly.  I figure very few other males do that regularly. 

Exit and walk down the hall.  Abby, kiss me, Sweetheart.  I’m escaping this dreadful situation.  I do like those pajamas though.

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Grace is hopeful that they’ll get to play with bubbles again today at daycare– they make her laugh out loud; especially yesterday when one landed on her nose and *POP* away it went. (It’s the small things in life)

Yay for bubbles!

Yay for bubbles!

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Grace, upon hearing the news that her friends are 'graduating'

Grace, upon hearing the news that her friends are 'graduating'

So Grace found out today that several of her day care friends are ‘graduating’ at the end of this week. Come March, Diana, Emerson & maybe Sam are all going to the 1 year old room. This is nice from the biting perspective, since we know that one of the older kids was the biter, we can be pretty assured that the biting should slow down. It is also nice, because, at least briefly there will only be 5 kids in the class. But it’s sad that her friends are leaving. Bye, bye big kids!

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5 months old!

Gracie in her Bumbo seat

Gracie in her Bumbo seat

Grace likes her Bumbo seat; it allows her to get in on the action and sit up all by herself. At 5 months old, she’s almost able to sit up by herself, she’s a champ at rolling over, she’s drooling as if she’ll cut a tooth any day (although we still don’t see where it might be) and she’s pushing up as if she might crawl at any point. She seems in such a rush to move on to the next developmental milestone, and I seem to lag behind, in awe of what she’s doing, but sad to watch my baby become a little person more and more each day.

Speaking of little people, here is a funny picture I took this morning at day care. I call it revenge of the little people.

not such good odds for Ms. Fiori!

5 against 1: not such good odds for Ms. Fiori!

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Bite, Growl, Bite.

Grace was bitten at Day Care.

Makes you think — why do people bite each other? The developmental psychology speaks at length of indetermined expression, anxiety, inability to represent feelings of frustration, etc. Some references even maintain that it’s a sign of affection. Hmmm.

It is indeed a threatening thought to consider one grown-up biting another grown-up. Barbaric. It’s an especially scary thought to think that one child chomped on your daughter’s leg. That’s a gentle, loving, blissful, delicate, and touching craft of flesh, left wrenched and torn, by the razor sharp canines of a malicious troublemaker. …Well, maybe that’s just a dad’s viewpoint?

Truth is: one of the little ones got excited and applied his mouth to Grace’s ankle. No, no damage done. No broken skin. Redness, once iced, then dissipated back to baby-toned flavor. We really couldn’t see a mark – much less a gaping wound of shredded flesh. Per regulation, they are not permitted to inform the victim’s (read: “bite-tee” as opposed to the biter) family of the incident beyond what happened. No names. Frankly, I’d be astonished and embarrassed if my child committed such an act of violence. (said in context) My first inclination is to apologize to the other parents and send a get-well-soon card. I wonder if Hallmark offers,

“Sorry my kid bit yours. It seems such a shame.
Yet he bites in the shadows. You’ll know not his name.
The feelings of youth can’t truly be known.
Let’s hope he quits this, before he is grown.

Were tears of regret shed for your child?
Not really because the redness was mild.
No marks, no holes, no blood was drawn.
A stealthy strike then the ninja was gone.
All in all, my son feels awful. — know what? He really doesn’t. Tell your kid to wear thicker socks.”

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Cowgirls rule!

Our little cowgirl with her daycare friend Diana

Our little cowgirl with her daycare friend Diana

Today, because Grace is going to see her Great Aunt Jenny this weekend, Grace opted for her cowgirl outfit complete with boots (that she had not yet had a chance to kick off in this photo). While Mama loves the outfit for the cute little horses all over the overalls, Grace likes the sweater. She thinks that the left sleeve is particularly tasty.

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So I remember being that kid that tried to push the envelope, just a little bit when there was a subsitute teacher. Nothing outrageous, just a little, to see what I could get away with. I wonder if Grace will be this way.

Today when we went into daycare, Ms. Fiori wasn’t there, and Katina, who sometimes comes in to visit, but often manages the phones and does tours, etc. was holding down the fort in the infant room. Seeing one adult with five children around her all interested in her attention made me think about the days of substitute teachers when we all tried to get away with just a little more than we did usually. Ms. Kay comes in every morning at 10 am, and I’m pretty sure that Katina is looking forward to 10 AM!

Guess we’ll see how things went when we go this evening.

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