Health » Stop, Drop and Blog

Growing Pains

Jul 132009

On Saturday evening, FireDad and I were enjoying some quiet time after TheBrothers went to bed. He was figuring out his mp3 player and I was bebopping around on blogs. The sun had already set, leaving us in a mostly dark living room. Suddenly, an ear-piercing cry was heard from BigBrother’s bedroom, one heard even over FireDad’s mp3 player earbuds. We ran back to his room to find him crying and writhing in pain.

“What hurts, Bubba?”

“My legs,” he sobbed.

“Which leg?”

“Both of them!”

I nodded my head as I gently rubbed his legs, glancing across the bed at FireDad. “Growing pains.”

FireDad looked at me like I had two heads, claiming he never experienced such a thing. (Turns out, in a discussion with his mother on the topic, he did have growing pains. FireDad frequently employs his selective memory.) But, back to BigBrother: growing pains. Oh, I hated them when I was growing up. I remember my mom coming into my room, responding to my cries, stretching across my bed in the dark to rub my legs. The rubbing didn’t necessarily make the pain go away but her presence, the presence of The One Who Fixes All, often helped me get back to sleep. By morning, the pain disappeared. Only to reappear again the next night. And the next.

After getting BigBrother back to sleep, I immediately Googled the topic (of course) as I didn’t really have any idea of what to do for him. I also tweeted about BigBrother’s growing pains and six different people responded regarding either themselves or their children and the associated experiences with the pain. And despite my husband’s selective memory, it seems as if growing pains are common.

Your child is probably experiencing growing pains, a normal occurrence in about 25% to 40% of children. They generally strike during two periods: in early childhood, among 3- to 5-year-olds, and later on, in 8- to 12-year-olds.

For those not familiar with our family, BigBrother will turn four this fall. So, he’s falling right in that first period of time. Great! So what am I supposed to do? I mean, my biggest Little Dude is in pain, he wants me to fix it and all I can do is massage his poor little legs. In fact, the whole experience made me get as introspective as this mama who wonders what her childrens’ growing pains (legs and other life experiences) will be like in the future. When I landed back in the reality of needing to fix the immediate problem and not to worry about the future (too much), I did find that there are some things to be done.

- The aforementioned massaging.
- Stretching the offending appendage.
- Placing a heating pad or hot water bottle on/near the area.
- Giving the appropriate amount of ibuprofen or acetaminophen.
- There are also some natural remedies: Calcarea Phosphorica as an example.

Note: Never give Aspirin to a child under 12 due to the association with Reye syndrome.

The truth is that your presence, as the parent, is also soothing. I mean, BigBrother thinks that I, the Almighty Mommy, can fix anything. After some massage and some discussion and some mental redirection (we talked about fishing), he felt a bit better. I hated watching him toss and turn and basically not stop moving in order to get away from the pain. I wanted to just magically touch his legs and remove the pain, calm him down. I knew, from experience, it didn’t quite work that way but, oh, how I wanted it to be the truth, to happen for me. To happen for him.

The good news is that he doesn’t have any of the warning signs which would dictate a call to the doctor. No fever, limping, unusual rashes, loss of appetite, weakness, tiredness, characteristics unlike that of BigBrother’s or pain in the morning. In fact, at sedden-zeedoh-zeedoh (seven o’clock for the non-three-year-old clock readers among us), he was ready and raring to go. I wasn’t quite ready yet but such is parenthood.

And so, after I got him calmed down the other night, he informed us that he needed Band-Aids. Band-Aids make everything better, right? FireDad went off and cut a regular (big) Band-Aid into two pieces. We placed one piece on each leg. I have decided to buy a large box of adhesive bandages and keep them on hand for future occurrences of growing pains. BigBrother has requested Thomas the Train. I don’t know, though… I think these are awfully smart looking. (See shins, behind the upside down Woody, who, by the way, also makes things better. Upside down or otherwise.)

Woody and Band-Aids

As if the bandaged legs aren’t enough for smiles, the conversation we had while FireDad was cutting our very last Band-Aid into to pieces might very well be a heartbreaker. Thinking through ways to get him to calm down before the magical bandages arrived, I thought an explanation as to why this was happening might be appropriate.

“Do you know why your legs hurt?”

“NO!”

“You’re growing too fast!”

“I DON’T WANNA GROW TOO FAST.”

Oh, sweet baby, I don’t want you to grow too fast either. Not at all.

But Trust Me On the Sunscreen

Health, Living Life 23 Responses »

Jun 082009

It’s not like I meant to forget the sunscreen. I was trying to wrangle the boys and get their sunblock on before we left for a playdate with friends. I knew we would be outside the whole time and right at those hideous peak sun hours. Sunscreen was an absolute must. But kids will be kids and squealing and wiggling happen. By the time I got them appropriately covered, I simply forgot to put sunscreen on myself.

My shoulders, arms, chest and upper legs are now the color of a beautifully ripe tomato.

My face, however, is saved as my foundation has 15SPF already in it. Saved by a purchase by my maternal grandmother. I should send her a thank you note. Anyway, so, yes. I’m dealing with a pretty hefty and oddly lined sunburn this morning. It definitely doesn’t match my bathing suit lines. Or the shirt that I’m currently wearing. I almost feel the need to wear a turtleneck until this humiliation passes. I feel like a fourteen year old who got a hickey in the middle of summer; how do I hide this mess?

Of course, I feel better knowing that neither boy has a spot of burn on them. The fact remains that “overexposure to sunlight before age 18 is most damaging to the skin.” (Of course, daily unprotected exposure, even when it doesn’t result in a sunburn, is what causes the most damage.) I know I need to be more careful with myself. I’m fair skinned, freckled, moled and come from a family with a history of skin cancer. However, my boys are also fair skinned (though BB has both maternal and paternal grandfathers’ ability to tan), freckled, moled and come from two sides of a family with a history of skin cancer. They’re under eighteen. As such, they will always be my first priority when it comes to applying sunscreen. (More info here.)

Now if only I had someone to apply mine while I was taking care of the children. Do they make those?

Of course, our family also deals with the fact that the boys have sensitive skin. I recently decided not to listen to my better judgment and use some cheaper sunscreen. BigBrother broke out in hives. I know better. In fact, I know enough to pay attention to helpful lists like this one at Skimbaco Lifestyle. Knowing which sunscreens are safe and which are, well, really not is helpful in making my decision as well. (You know, if I could just remember to put it on my own darn skin.)

In the end, my sunburn has been a learning lesson for BigBrother. I showed him my bright red arms, at which point in time he had a great giggle. I explained that was what would happen if he didn’t let me put on the sunblock before we went outside to play. His eyes got sort of big and he agreed that sunblock was the way to go. He’s an easy sell. It’s the Wiggle Monster otherwise known as LittleBrother who tells me, “Tickles,” as he tries to roll away.

I’ll be more careful with myself for the rest of the summer. If only so I don’t look like a bright red tomato at the billion and twelve events I have to attend this summer. But if you need some visual proof as to the benefits of sunscreen, take a look at this picture from last night’s Meet & Greet after the Yanni concert in Columbus. Can you tell which one is me? The bright shining red one.

With Leslie Mills

So, yes, trust me on the sunscreen.

[Head on over to the review blog to read more about my fantastic, sunburned night at the Yanni Voices concert.]

The Secret to a Happier Life for All of Us

Health, Parenting 4 Responses »

Feb 182009

I spent most of today dealing with LittleBrother’s molar teething issues, the effects of sleep deprivation and some of my own recent and not-so-awesome health issues. I kept meaning to blog, even something for Wordless Wednesday, but I kept coming up empty handed. It’s a rough day if I can’t even come up with a post that doesn’t involve words. I mean, come on, it’s me. I’m wordy! I couldn’t wait for the kids to go to bed because I had some cleaning, some laundry, some work, some reading and, oh goodness, some sleeping to do.

I got things read for after-bath (jammies, tooth brushes) before I ran the water for their bath. I helped remove clothes. I chased naked butts into the bathroom. I had every fiber in my being planning on taking the quickest possible bath in the history of all baths ever. But then they started to do this. (Ignore boogers brought to you by aforementioned teething.)

And this.

Yes. They made bubble face goatees. Without my goading or prompting. In fact, LittleBrother did it first and then BigBrother followed suit. I found myself laughing despite the general feeling of ick that had been following me around for most of the day. And suddenly my focus was not on rushing bath time, teeth brushing, jammification, story reading, prayers and tucking in. I let them splash for awhile. They got too much water on the floor. I laughed with them and my shirt ended up splattered with the happiness of two brothers in a bubble bath. And while I didn’t magically feel better, I was able to smile and enjoy the rest of our evening together.

I know I’m supposed to be raising them to be well-rounded adults who can appreciate the beauty in life… but sometimes they’re reminding me to stop and do that very thing. I mean, bubble bath goatees? When was the last time you gave yourself a bubble bath goatee?

Wouldn’t this life be a happier place if we all took time for bubble bath goatees?

Milk Schmilk, Right?

Health 11 Responses »

Jan 062009

LittleBrother went to the doctor yesterday. I finally called the doctor yesterday morning. Why? Since adding whole milk to his diet, things have been rather loose with regard to bowel movements. Loose and frequent. That combination then resulted in a pretty nasty diaper rash which we couldn’t get ahead of with any number of different ointments. For awhile we suspected BigBrother has brought home some intestinal bug. But as the days turned into weeks, that didn’t seem to be the case. And so, I called.

We suspected a milk sensitivity/lactose intolerance and not a full-on dairy allergy as he’d had no problem with dairy through my breastmilk nor other smaller bits of dairy. Once the doctor asked a billion questions and did a thorough examination, our suspicions were confirmed. Lactose intolerance. While he sounded optimstic that children often outgrow such a diagnosis, right now the facts were that the child needed an altered diet. I asked questions, got answers and made my way back home feeling very overwhelmed.

Upon returning home, I made a quick tweet about the diagnosis while I pulled up some tabs for research. And suddenly the help started pouring in from all over the world. I got replies and direct messages from my twitter followers with all kinds of tips, advice, ideas and follow up questions. With each message, I was learned something new. What had felt absolutely overwhelming just over an hour before was being transformed into bite-size nuggets of easily digested information. It was amazing.

@Sarakenobi let me know that she was once lactose intolerant and is no longer. And @iKrissi told me that her son actually overcame a pretty big allergy and can, mostly, tolerate milk now. Those short stories? Gave me hope! Some people, like @liberty4all reminded me that almond milk was an option if rice and/or soy didn’t cut it for LittleBrother. People like @DowntoEarthMama and @Military_Mama told me where to look for goat’s milk and cheese. @Cberbs gave me a fabulous resource: GoDairyFree.org. And that doesn’t count the number of kind-hearted, empathetic and/or sympathetic comments from those that have endured similar things with their children or simply know how difficult it is to know something is “wrong” with your child.

Let me tell you: those messages meant the world to me. Having all of that information given to me, without even asking for it, in small bits and in such a supportive tone was absolutely amazing. I now not only am less freaked out but I even have a somewhat positive outlook. I say somewhat because it’s still big and new. But, at the same time, thanks to those who have rallied around us, I know that we can get through this new thing. We can and we will.

LittleBrother, of course, is just as happy as every other day. He doesn’t know anything is different just yet. It would be one thing if he didn’t like whole milk. But he does. And so he’s going to be sorely disappointed when his next cup of ice cold milk doesn’t taste just right. I’ll keep you updated on his progress.

As always, if you have tips, trick, recipes and general advice, please inundate me. Thank you in advance!