Cranky Two-Year-Olds and Almost Teens: What's Worse?

This first photo is an adequate portrayal of Brigid at the end of her weekend rope, having had a series of meltdowns leading up to dinner Sunday. We’ve discovered that Brigid loves the child care center at Sibley so much, her weekends send her adrift without structure. I think by Sunday, she’s had it, and so have we. She did nothing but scream and cry most of Saturday and Sunday, until she passed out Sunday night. She woke up happy this morning, ready to go back and see Sally Bubbles, Jen, Sar-ah and the rest of the gang, and was sort of happy to be dropped off. She had a momentary clingy episode, but it didn’t last long and produced no tears.

On Saturday, Brigid and I went to my office at Hawkins Hall, which for some reason she calls "Mommy's House." She runs around the halls and then plays in my office while I do some work or whatever it is that brought me in on weekends in the first place. After we ran around the halls, she wanted to play in the car, so I let her. Both Brigid and Patricia are finishing their first full week on antibiotics, each having to endure them for 10 days, to treat their respective ear infections. Both have recovered fairly well, with only residual coughing and nose running. Margaret has miraculously escaped the creeping crud that infected the household, but that could be because she’s rarely home anymore. As she approaches her 13th birthday this week, she is quickly filling the teenager mold in temperament and habit. She has asked for an archery outfit for her birthday – compound bow and everything. We feel she needs a new bicycle, which we also feel she will get more use out of.
The archery thing, while admirable, isn’t much of a need and will only be able to be used up at the lake where there is plenty of room without threat of passing pedestrians or family pets. However, when she rides her bike, her knees practically hit her chin. We want to hand down her pristine bicycle to Patricia and get Margaret one that is suitable in size. We may end up making an editorial decision and putting the archery thing on hold.

Margaret wants to have some kind of birthday party with friends, but because her birthday falls on May 1 when the weather is anything if not winter-like, having it up at the lake is chancy at best. She also wants to invite two boys as well, so that puts a nix on any sleepover ideas she had about the lake as well. We may end up doing something up there later in the month, but at this stage, we’re still all not sure what to do.

Additionally, Grandma and Granddad Downs will be moving up there as of tomorrow for the season and their availability to do anything down in Plattsburgh is going to be limited because of the horses. Once they get the horses up there at the lake, they won’t be taking too many trips into town of any length. They are going to be picking up their horse on Wednesday; they’re going to pick up the two rental horses in Vermont on May 10. We thought we might have them down on the 11th, Mother’s Day, for a combination Mother’s Day/Margaret’s family birthday gathering, but they may not want to drive down from the lake after having been on the road the day before. Also, they may not be too open about leaving the horses alone for any length of time after having just brought them to the lake the day before. So that’s all another unknown at this point. One thing that is known is Margaret is turning the corner on her kid years and entering teen-dom. Heaven help us all.

B O N U S P H O T O

I call this photo "Dirty Waif."

We're Sick and Tired of Being Sick and Tired

Well, we’re coming off a week of sick kids and trips to the pediatrician’s office. Last week, Margaret and Patricia had spring break from school, so Patricia promptly got a nasty head and chest cold, complete with fever. Lasted much of the week. Margaret, on the other hand, managed to dodge that bullet by spending as little time at home as she possibly could. She is, after all, an almost-teenager, and I guess it’s part of the job description to avoid family time as much as possible and at all costs. She’s not being confrontational, just avoidable. What she did manage to avoid, as a result, was non-stop and unrelenting coughing and nose blowing. I took Patricia to the doctor’s on Tuesday last week only to find out it’s a cold with the cough a result of post-nasal drip. Treat the symptoms, thank you very much for your co-pay.

I had planned to take Thursday and Friday off of that week to spend with the girls with Brigid in day care so we could have some quality time. When Thursday rolled around, Patricia seemed to be on the mend, so we went through with the Thursday portion of the plan. I dropped Brigid off at Sibley and Margaret, Patricia and I went shopping and then out to lunch, and then went to Borders to hang out and browse until it was time to pick up Brigid. It was a glorious day – warm sunshine and lots of girl time. We went to Sibley in time to find Brigid strapped into the “buggy,” a six-seat stroller they use for the toddlers to transport them anywhere they have to go en mass. When she saw us, she started to cry as if we weren’t going to take her with us. Until that time, she was having a blast. But as I unstrapped her from her buggy seat, she started to cough a barky oh-no-she-has-croup cough. Her teacher said she hadn’t been coughing like that all day.

We went to Stewarts as we often do and got a snack but by the time we got home, Brigid was feeling very, very warm. I took her temperature and it was 103! Her breathing was difficult and her barky croup cough was getting worse, so I called Dr. Chaskey’s office once again and they said bring her right over. The other two girls came with me to help and we were seen right away – labored breathing is taken seriously. Dr. Chaskey, whom I’ve known as long as I’ve been in Plattsburgh and whose oldest child, his daughter, shares the same birth date as Brigid, checked her out and said she had croup. The fever was a little disconcerting, but he gave us a prescription for prednisone, told me to treat her other symptoms with Advil and Tylenol, get a cool mist humidifier and keep her home from school the next day. What he didn’t tell me is what the prednisone would do to my usually compliant and fairly easy-going kid.

I gave her the first dose of the $30 non-formulary prescription that night and within minutes she was bouncing off the walls, flailing and wailing and running in circles. It took me forever to get her settled down for bed. Meanwhile, Patricia’s fever had returned so I sent her to bed early. The girls weren’t feeling all that well the next day – Brigid was still barking and I was surprised Patricia had any lung tissue left at all with all her coughing. She still had a fever, so we went back to the doctor’s office so they could do a strep test. That turned out negative, but they suggested she take Sudafed to help dry up the head.

Margaret, in the mean time, was fielding sleepover offers left and right. She ended up going to a friend’s for the night, leaving Patricia and Brigid and I to hang out together on our own. That was OK, though, because they were both feeling up to some Chinese food for dinner. We picked up Daddy and headed to China Buffet. The soup felt good on Patricia’s sore throat, which was raw from all her coughing and post-nasal dripping.

Saturday the girls seemed to rebound a little, and it was so beautiful out. Margaret came home from her friend, Colleen’s house, only to turn around, pick up her friend Maggie and head to Saranac Lake with Jack for a hike up Baker Mountain. Patricia, Brigid and I were on our own again and feeling well enough to go for a bite to eat and hit a couple first-of-the-season garage sales. But after lunch, it was time for the infirmed to come home and rest. The hikers returned with an invitation for Margaret to go over to Maggie’s to spend the night, so once again she was off and Patricia, Brigid and I were on our own. Jack took advantage of the great weather to rake the back yard, and Patricia and Brigid ran around outside for a bit, enjoying the sun. Jack had hauled the grill off the deck, brought up the deck chairs and table and I threw some hamburgers on for our first dinner of the season outside, it was that warm.

The sicklings were feeling poorly again that night, with Brigid falling asleep on the couch (unheard of) by about 7 p.m. I was doing my calendar at the Press and Jack put her to bed only to have her get up again an hour and a half later, out of sorts and feverish. I came home not long after, dosed her up with Advil, and got a ‘roid raging kid to bed long after her normal bedtime. We decided to skip mass on Sunday – John was in NYC seeing the Pope anyway and I didn’t want to have to sit in the pew with a sick steroid-addled toddler listening to a homily by the monsignor I probably would take issue with. Besides, Patricia was still coughing and although she was feeling generally better, that cough would send parishioners scurrying.

Patricia went to school on Monday feeling much better though still coughing, but Brigid, who had a very, very rough night of it the night before, work up burning up with fever. Her barking cough was gone, but it had turned into a head cold/chest cold kind of thing. So, back to the pediatrician we went – fourth time in a week, for anyone keeping score. Although the cough was soupy sounding they were more concerned with her ear. Turns out, she developed an ear infection. So, back to the pharmacy for antibiotics. She was very feverish last night but had a better time sleeping last night. She woke up fever-free and feeling great, more like her old self. We hadn’t given her any more of the steroids since Sunday morning, and I think that’s helped her bounce back to her old self as well. She wanted to go to school this morning, so we brought her over, letting them know that she’s feeling better but you never know with fevers. So far, I haven’t received that call saying come get your kid. I hope we’re finally on the road to recovery. What a long, strange trip it’s been.

A Visit From Uncle Chris and Pancakes ... It Doesn't Get Much Better

We had a wonderful visit with Uncle Chris from Montana, who arrived late Friday and left all too early on Sunday after lunch. All three girls enjoyed his presence, and by the time he left, Brigid was calling out for "Un-kul Ciss! Un-kul Ciss!" Lousy weather delayed his arrival Friday night, so the girls didn't have too long to visit before it was time for bed. Jack, Chris and I did get to go downtown for a short time to say goodbye to a colleague from the Press who was leaving, oddly enough, for a job in Tonawanda. But Chris was exhausted from a too-long drive not only to Plattsburgh but from Montana over the previous two days, so we called it an early night.

Saturday was pretty lousy out, but the girls, Jack and Chris did get a visit in at the dog party that morning. For years, an unofficial and unorganized group of dog owners have converged on the field behind the college field house to socialize both themselves and their dogs. When Buster was alive, Jack would bring him back there with the girls to meet and greet. He has since continued the tradition, just bringing the girls so they could see the dogs. It's often a different group of dogs from one week to the next, but they're all pretty friendly and the girls are always happy to see them.


Margaret had her friend, Maggie, over the night before and she was staying with us throughout the afternoon because it was the Sanger Pancake Breakfast weekend and we were going to go for an early breakfast-for-dinner. The Sangers (or Casey-Sangers) have two daughters, one of whom is best friends with Patricia; one of whom is best friends with Margaret and Maggie, so it made sense to bring Maggie along with us. Because the day was so bleak, the girls and Chris stayed in most of the afternoon and played cards while I kept tabs on Brigid and Jack went to work out at the YMCA and to do some work at the office. Chris taught my girls how to play Texas Hold'em poker (thank you, Chris) and the stakes were high -- pennies were spent wildly.


We piled into the car about 4 p.m. for pancakes and sausage and hot, homemade syrup at the Sanger Sugarhouse. Yum. The only time during the year that I actually look forward to pancakes. Chris, we found out, doesn't put syrup on his pancakes. He eats 'em with butter only, but it was the spirit of the thing, afterall, and we all chowed down. Little did we know that both Jack and Patricia were coming down with something.

After the pancakes, we deposited Maggie off at her own house, after having spent more than 24 hours with us, and headed to the mall to walk off some of the damage done at the Sangers'. The rest of Saturday was spent just hanging out, watching movies and visiting. Meanwhile, Patricia wasn't feeling well, and Jack wasn't 100 percent, either. By Sunday morning, Patricia said she was well enough to go to church (she and Margaret were serving at 11 a.m. mass) but Jack was out of it. He did get up to see Chris briefly in the morning but went back to bed before I left for mass with the girls. We made arrangements for Chris to meet us (the girls and me) for lunch. I knew Jack wouldn't be joining us. He was out for the count.

Brigid was better than usual at church, which was a blessing because I was alone with her in the pew, and it can be excruciating when she's not cooperating. We went to Michigans Plus, a local hot dog place, and Chris was already there waiting for us, his car all packed up for the trip to Buffalo. We had a nice lunch and said our farewells in the parking lot. The girls were sad to say goodbye to their favorite uncle and even Brigid called out "Buh bye, Un-kul Ciss!" as we pulled away. By the time we got home, Jack had left for work but was truly under the weather. Patricia went to bed complaining of fatigue. Turns out she had a fever of nearly 101. She napped most of the afternoon and by the evening her fever had dipped slightly thanks to the advil, but she had a rough night because of it. So far, Margaret, Brigid and I are doing OK. I hope the trend continues, and I hope Un-kul Ciss manages to stave off any nastiness as well. When Patricia woke up this morning after a not-too-restful night, her fever was 102, so she really does have something.

On a different note, it was brought to my attention that some of my faithful readers (all two of them) thought I give short shrift to Margaret and Patricia in my musings. To that criticism, I say that the things I journal about with regards to Brigid they have already experienced. I didn't have a blog at my disposal back then to keep track of their developmental milestones. All I had that I kept up regularly were their baby books. Now that they're older and, one would hope, have met most of their developmental milestones by now, the news is with the baby. They are exceptional students and great kids. It would be newsworthy if they didn't do well in school or weren't involved in extracurricular activities. So if you want to know more about their exploits than I regularly report, I suggest, dear readers, you email them and ask them yourselves. You'll get it from the horses' mouths and thrill them no end to have received email.

B O N U S P H O T O S

As I posted previously, Patricia had her Global Village evening Wednesday at school and Margaret had her Colonial Tavern social studies project on Friday morning at school. Patricia spent many months studying about Nigeria and was able to answer questions and show her work at the Global Village celebration. Here is Patricia at her tri-fold display:





Margaret was "assigned" the personage of a 60-year-old blacksmith. She brought in Jack's farrier equipment, took photos of herself hammering on the anvil up at the lake and brought in mulled cider as part of her total project package. The cider was a hit with the crowd that filed into the cafeteria at the middle school. Who knew? Every recipe we found on the Web called for cinnamon sticks and allspice; I had neither so I made my own allspice with cinnamon and nutmet and just added additional cinnamon in a homemade teabag (I used a coffee filter) to float in the cider in the crock pot. Margaret also earned points for learning a period dance, which they performed at the "tavern". Here are some photos from the event. Her friend, Maggie, is the one in the tri-corner hat with Margaret at the crock pot.

She's Getting Her Kicks

Brigid has taken to the child care center like she's been there her entire life. With very little if any argument, she happily goes, wants to see Jen and Sarah (her teachers) and Sally Bubbles (Sally, the director) and the kids. She enjoys the toys, likes the structure. She has taken naps without the sling -- she has actually gone to her cot on her own. She enjoys when they take the kids out in the buggy -- a six-seat contraption that has three rows of two seats so the kids can all be taken somewhere at one time. There has been no more biting incidences, and the other kids all seem to like giving her hugs and all wave hello and goodbye to her. She seems to do likewise.

When it's time for me to pick her up, she's ready to go. There's no hanging around. It's like, OK, I've had it here for the day, let's get my coat on and let's go. But she isn't weepy like she's been waiting for me by the door. All in all, we'd have to say it's been very positive.

She isn't overly tirely at the end of the day, but you can tell she's more subdued, especially when you compare her on the weekend. The structure has been good for her.

She still enjoys screaming at you; she'll scream right in your face. And we've been having some trouble getting her to stop hitting or striking out when angry or frustrated. She'll also hit and kick at me (or attempt to) when she's nursing at night before bed. Last night I had to stop her and scold her. She cried, and then she said, "No kicks" as if to say she gets it. But this kid has been kicking me since she was in utero. When she climbs into bed with us, she pummels whoever is in the direction of her feet. Kicking is a genetic component of our Brigid, I'm afraid.

We've been running running running for the last two weeks, between chorus concerts, music festivals, play rehearsals and social studies projects. Patricia and Margaret were both in the combined chorus concert last week. Patricia then had a music festival with select chorus students from all over the area last Saturday. Then her "gifted and talented" program, called Odyssey, had its Global Village program last night where she had to share her research on the country she studied -- Nigeria. Tonight, she has her drama club play; tomorrow, Margaret has her social studies project for all to see. This cram-everything-into-the-end-of-the-school-year thing is for the birds.

We'll be having company this weekend. Uncle Chris is visiting us from Montana. He's scheduled to arrive tomorrow night and will stay through Sunday. The girls are beside themselves with excitement to see Uncle Chris. Should be a lot of fun.