RMers with kids

[wease]

Better get to work

[Monkey_Driven]

it's finally time to start wondering if every cough/sniffle is going to lead to scrambling to figure out childcare for the day

[tragabigzanda]

There is a wolf in me . . . fangs pointed for tearing gashes . . . a red tongue for raw meat . . . and the hot lapping of blood—I keep this wolf because the wilderness gave it to me and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fox in me . . . a silver-gray fox . . . I sniff and guess . . . I pick things out of the wind and air . . . I nose in the dark night and take sleepers and eat them and hide the feathers . . . I circle and loop and double-cross.

There is a hog in me . . . a snout and a belly . . . a machinery for eating and grunting . . . a machinery for sleeping satisfied in the sun—I got this too from the wilderness and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fish in me . . . I know I came from salt-blue water-gates . . . I scurried with shoals of herring . . . I blew waterspouts with porpoises . . . before land was . . . before the water went down . . . before Noah . . . before the first chapter of Genesis.

There is a baboon in me . . . clambering-clawed . . . dog-faced . . . yawping a galoot's hunger . . . hairy under the armpits . . . here are the hawk-eyed hankering men . . . here are the blonde and blue-eyed women . . . here they hide curled asleep waiting . . . ready to snarl and kill . . . ready to sing and give milk . . . waiting—I keep the baboon because the wilderness says so.

There is an eagle in me and a mockingbird . . . and the eagle flies among the Rocky Mountains of my dreams and fights among the Sierra crags of what I want . . . and the mockingbird warbles in the early forenoon before the dew is gone, warbles in the underbrush of my Chattanoogas of hope, gushes over the blue Ozark foothills of my wishes—And I got the eagle and the mockingbird from the wilderness.

O, I got a zoo, I got a menagerie, inside my ribs, under my bony head, under my red-valve heart—and I got something else: it is a man-child heart, a woman-child heart: it is a father and mother and lover: it came from God-Knows-Where: it is going to God-Knows-Where—For I am the keeper of the zoo: I say yes and no: I sing and kill and work: I am a pal of the world: I came from the wilderness.

[spike]

You had a good run, pal. My kid has been sick twice already, and still has a lingering cough. My wife also got it each time, and I caught the first one. The school also sent out a croup warning for her year a couple weeks ago.

[washing machine]

There was a loooong stretch between fall '21 and summer '22 full of ear infections. We might as well have had a punch card at the pediatrician, because after x amount of diagnoses, he was a candidate for ear tubes.

After that, the ear stuff stopped. Now it's just run-of-the-mill stuff he picks up around pre-k. Less frequent, but still annoying for us and tough for him.

[Chris_H_2]

There was a loooong stretch between fall '21 and summer '22 full of ear infections. We might as well have had a punch card at the pediatrician, because after x amount of diagnoses, he was a candidate for ear tubes.

After that, the ear stuff stopped. Now it's just run-of-the-mill stuff he picks up around pre-k. Less frequent, but still annoying for us and tough for him.

did he suffer any speech delays because of the ear infections?

[spike]

We’ve been lucky on ear stuff so far, not sure what age you’re kinda in the clear on that?

My niece is going through it and it sounds awful. No speech issues for her at least.

[washing machine]

No speech issues, except the occasional cute 4-year-old letter mixups.

He's obsessed with a sticky gecko toy right now that he pronounces "sticky necko".

[tragabigzanda]

There is a wolf in me . . . fangs pointed for tearing gashes . . . a red tongue for raw meat . . . and the hot lapping of blood—I keep this wolf because the wilderness gave it to me and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fox in me . . . a silver-gray fox . . . I sniff and guess . . . I pick things out of the wind and air . . . I nose in the dark night and take sleepers and eat them and hide the feathers . . . I circle and loop and double-cross.

There is a hog in me . . . a snout and a belly . . . a machinery for eating and grunting . . . a machinery for sleeping satisfied in the sun—I got this too from the wilderness and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fish in me . . . I know I came from salt-blue water-gates . . . I scurried with shoals of herring . . . I blew waterspouts with porpoises . . . before land was . . . before the water went down . . . before Noah . . . before the first chapter of Genesis.

There is a baboon in me . . . clambering-clawed . . . dog-faced . . . yawping a galoot's hunger . . . hairy under the armpits . . . here are the hawk-eyed hankering men . . . here are the blonde and blue-eyed women . . . here they hide curled asleep waiting . . . ready to snarl and kill . . . ready to sing and give milk . . . waiting—I keep the baboon because the wilderness says so.

There is an eagle in me and a mockingbird . . . and the eagle flies among the Rocky Mountains of my dreams and fights among the Sierra crags of what I want . . . and the mockingbird warbles in the early forenoon before the dew is gone, warbles in the underbrush of my Chattanoogas of hope, gushes over the blue Ozark foothills of my wishes—And I got the eagle and the mockingbird from the wilderness.

O, I got a zoo, I got a menagerie, inside my ribs, under my bony head, under my red-valve heart—and I got something else: it is a man-child heart, a woman-child heart: it is a father and mother and lover: it came from God-Knows-Where: it is going to God-Knows-Where—For I am the keeper of the zoo: I say yes and no: I sing and kill and work: I am a pal of the world: I came from the wilderness.

[spike]

I think we’ve done every one of my kid’s Covid shots at CVS Minute Clinic. Seems pediatricians can’t be bothered or can’t get a hold of the stuff.

[B]

Yeah, I gave up on my pediatrician 15 flu seasons ago. They suck at seasonal stuff.

Especially if you go to a place that works under an umbrella, and they're waiting on corporate guidance to start vaccinating or something stupid like that.

[spike]

We were able to track down one of these booster seats on the secondary market for our trip to Paris next month. Excited we’ll be able to take cabs with or rent a car to drive out of the city. Also for future trips too.

https://mifold.com/products/mifold-original

[washing machine]

How great does it feel to get your small child on a game that's a thinly veiled attempt at a light nap?

Yesterday it was "bring me something from your room and I'll try to guess what it is without opening my eyes." Bluey's dad has taught our generation a lot, I think.

[tragabigzanda]

There is a wolf in me . . . fangs pointed for tearing gashes . . . a red tongue for raw meat . . . and the hot lapping of blood—I keep this wolf because the wilderness gave it to me and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fox in me . . . a silver-gray fox . . . I sniff and guess . . . I pick things out of the wind and air . . . I nose in the dark night and take sleepers and eat them and hide the feathers . . . I circle and loop and double-cross.

There is a hog in me . . . a snout and a belly . . . a machinery for eating and grunting . . . a machinery for sleeping satisfied in the sun—I got this too from the wilderness and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fish in me . . . I know I came from salt-blue water-gates . . . I scurried with shoals of herring . . . I blew waterspouts with porpoises . . . before land was . . . before the water went down . . . before Noah . . . before the first chapter of Genesis.

There is a baboon in me . . . clambering-clawed . . . dog-faced . . . yawping a galoot's hunger . . . hairy under the armpits . . . here are the hawk-eyed hankering men . . . here are the blonde and blue-eyed women . . . here they hide curled asleep waiting . . . ready to snarl and kill . . . ready to sing and give milk . . . waiting—I keep the baboon because the wilderness says so.

There is an eagle in me and a mockingbird . . . and the eagle flies among the Rocky Mountains of my dreams and fights among the Sierra crags of what I want . . . and the mockingbird warbles in the early forenoon before the dew is gone, warbles in the underbrush of my Chattanoogas of hope, gushes over the blue Ozark foothills of my wishes—And I got the eagle and the mockingbird from the wilderness.

O, I got a zoo, I got a menagerie, inside my ribs, under my bony head, under my red-valve heart—and I got something else: it is a man-child heart, a woman-child heart: it is a father and mother and lover: it came from God-Knows-Where: it is going to God-Knows-Where—For I am the keeper of the zoo: I say yes and no: I sing and kill and work: I am a pal of the world: I came from the wilderness.

[tree_]

How great does it feel to get your small child on a game that's a thinly veiled attempt at a light nap?

Yesterday it was "bring me something from your room and I'll try to guess what it is without opening my eyes." Bluey's dad has taught our generation a lot, I think.

Spike plays the "eat this candy I swear it's not melatonin" game which is also genius

I was also initially confused about this trag, but it appears our friend the washing machine is finding a way for he himself to nap, not his child

[tragabigzanda]

There is a wolf in me . . . fangs pointed for tearing gashes . . . a red tongue for raw meat . . . and the hot lapping of blood—I keep this wolf because the wilderness gave it to me and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fox in me . . . a silver-gray fox . . . I sniff and guess . . . I pick things out of the wind and air . . . I nose in the dark night and take sleepers and eat them and hide the feathers . . . I circle and loop and double-cross.

There is a hog in me . . . a snout and a belly . . . a machinery for eating and grunting . . . a machinery for sleeping satisfied in the sun—I got this too from the wilderness and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fish in me . . . I know I came from salt-blue water-gates . . . I scurried with shoals of herring . . . I blew waterspouts with porpoises . . . before land was . . . before the water went down . . . before Noah . . . before the first chapter of Genesis.

There is a baboon in me . . . clambering-clawed . . . dog-faced . . . yawping a galoot's hunger . . . hairy under the armpits . . . here are the hawk-eyed hankering men . . . here are the blonde and blue-eyed women . . . here they hide curled asleep waiting . . . ready to snarl and kill . . . ready to sing and give milk . . . waiting—I keep the baboon because the wilderness says so.

There is an eagle in me and a mockingbird . . . and the eagle flies among the Rocky Mountains of my dreams and fights among the Sierra crags of what I want . . . and the mockingbird warbles in the early forenoon before the dew is gone, warbles in the underbrush of my Chattanoogas of hope, gushes over the blue Ozark foothills of my wishes—And I got the eagle and the mockingbird from the wilderness.

O, I got a zoo, I got a menagerie, inside my ribs, under my bony head, under my red-valve heart—and I got something else: it is a man-child heart, a woman-child heart: it is a father and mother and lover: it came from God-Knows-Where: it is going to God-Knows-Where—For I am the keeper of the zoo: I say yes and no: I sing and kill and work: I am a pal of the world: I came from the wilderness.

[washing machine]

I'm a fan of the melatonin game too, for the record. I've long given up on getting him to nap during the day though. I'm happy (for him) but frustrated (selfishly for me) when I hear daily how well he naps at school.

Tree is correct in inferring that I was talking about a nap for me.

[tree_]

oh i was joking HAHA

[spike]

I'm a fan of the melatonin game too, for the record. I've long given up on getting him to nap during the day though. I'm happy (for him) but frustrated (selfishly for me) when I hear daily how well he naps at school.

Tree is correct in inferring that I was talking about a nap for me.

I’m still getting my kid to nap several times a week, but I’m getting her up after an hour and a half now (she’s an epic napper when she does go down for one), otherwise bedtime is a mess. And if she doesn’t nap every couple days, she’s a wreck by bedtime. So far so good on this approach.

[wease]

How great does it feel to get your small child on a game that's a thinly veiled attempt at a light nap?

Yesterday it was "bring me something from your room and I'll try to guess what it is without opening my eyes." Bluey's dad has taught our generation a lot, I think.

I used to do that all the time. We would wrestle and play and I’d pretend she knocked me out.