Author: Family Friendly Daddy Blog

Leave a comment Posted on Health, parenting

My 2 Year-Old’s 2nd Febrile Seizure, Sort Of

March 18, 2013 at 9:08 pm , by 

2 years, 4 months.

Dear Jack,

It seems like only a year ago that you had your febrile seizure.

And it seems like only two days ago on your 2.333rd birthday that I said this:

“You haven’t had another [febrile seizure] since; in fact, the last time you were even sick at all was last July.

As your dad, I am so grateful and thankful for your health, safety, and general well-being.

I don’t worry about you, but I am constantly aware of what precious cargo you are and how I responsible I need to be for you.”

With that being said, I had to take you to the ER today at Vanderbilt Children’s Hospital because you were slipping into another febrile seizure.

I’m more of a romanticized, big picture, spare-me-the-technical-details kind of storyteller, so I’ll just regurgitate the highlights as best as I remember them happening over the past 24 hours:

Mommy had already left late for work due to a tornado warning, you had a fever of 105, I gave you fever-reducing medicine, we were watching Hard Hat Harry’s All About Monster Trucks, you starting shivering, I took off your clothes, your lips looked like they were going numb…

As I held you while talking to the nurse on the phone, you started convulsing like you did in last year’s febrile seizure…

When you did that it scared me, which then scared you, which caused you to wake up from the first three seconds of this year’s febrile seizure…

The nurse on the phone said to bring you to the ER instead of the pediatrician’s office, I threw your clothes in a Kroger bag, I by default imagined myself as Bruce Willis in the Die Hard movies as we drove through the post-tornado warning weather to the hospital…

I remember snapping my fingers a lot to keep you awake as I drove you there, saying, “Stay with me, son! Wake up! Don’t fall asleep! Listen, I’m snapping my fingers like Hard Hat Harry does…”.

When we got there, I found out you had caught a case of Roseola, which had caused your temperature to spike, setting your body up to go into seizure mode.

Thank God, you’re okay… again.

It was scarier for me this 2nd time because I didn’t have Mommy or an ambulance. I kept telling you, “You’re going to be okay, son. Daddy’s taking care of you. Hang with me…”.

I knew what I was saying was true, but at the same time my trust was in God, not myself.

Navigating my way to the ER in post-tornadic weather, trying to find out where to park once I got there (!), and keeping you from falling into another seizure because I hated the thought of your seizing while I drove 65 mph on the interstate in the wind and rain…

Well, I really do feel like Bruce Willis in a Die Hard movie right now.

As for you having another febrile seizure, A) I’m becoming a pro at what to do now and B) I’ll going ahead and mark my calendar for next March, so hopefully I can jinx it.

 

Love,

Daddy

Leave a comment Posted on Nostalgia, parenting

2 Going On 72… To Infinity And Beyond!

March 17, 2013 at 10:47 pm , by 

2 years, 4 months.

Dear Jack,

Since I took you to Shipwrecked, your favorite indoor playhouse in the Nashville area, for the past two weeks you kept asking me, “I go back to Shipwrecked? I drive Buzz?”

So yes, you finally got your wish yesterday. You got to drive Buzz.And boy did you enjoy it… I think…

Last time, I explained how you drove the Lightning McQueen car like a crotchety old man. Driving Buzz was the same way for you.

Clearly you were just there for business, not pleasure.

Your objective was to drive the Buzz Lightyear car from one side of the indoor playground to other, without any other kids trying to take it away from you.

Based on the look on your face in the picture above, I’d say you did a pretty good job of scaring them off. I’m sure you made it clear you weren’t there to make friends… but just to drive Buzz.

Fortunately, after you accomplished your mission, you starting interacting with the other kids there. You abandoned Buzz for the ball pit, the train table, the book nook, and the building blocks.

You didn’t even mind that other kids drove Buzz during the rest of our 2 and a half hour session.

I guess we could say you are learning to share, despite being an only child right now.

Well, this is a start, at least.

 

Love,

Daddy

 

 

 

Leave a comment Posted on Health, parenting

Happy 2.333rd Birthday! (A Year After Your Febrile Seizure)

March 16, 2013 at 10:58 pm , by 

2 years, 4 months. (Or, 2.333 years.)

Dear Jack,

While many people somewhat recognize half-birthdays and ages, they certainly don’t acknowledge thirds of birthdays and ages. But if they did, I would bring to your attention that today is your 2.333rd birthday; if I’m even saying that right.

Also, it was a year ago today that you had your febrile seizure. You haven’t had another one since; in fact, the last time you were even sick at all was last July.

As your dad, I am so grateful and thankful for your health, safety, and general well-being.

I don’t worry about you, but I am constantly aware of what precious cargo you are and how I responsible I need to be for you.

This morning I woke up from a nightmare that you got lost at a public swimming pool, though I was there with you. I think that was my subconscious reinforcing my constant awareness of keeping you safe and healthy.

Today while Mommy went “vegan shopping” at Whole Foods Market, I hung out with you at your favorite indoor playground nearby. While we were there, I eventually had to use the restroom.

I realize it probably would have been fine to have a fellow parent (yet complete stranger) watch you for those two minutes, but it’s just not something I think I could ever bring myself to do.

So I brought you into the bathroom with me, basically forcing you to watch. You were happy because I let you flush.

Speaking of your 2.333rd birthday, it was about 3 years ago that Mommy and I found out we were having you. We thought we were going to have a little girl…

Now 3 years later, we are so proud to have a noise with dirt on it… that is, a little boy named Jack who is currently obsessed with monster trucks and The Beatles.

 

Love,

Daddy

 

 

 

Leave a comment Posted on Nostalgia, parenting

Top 10 Beatles’ Songs For My 2 Year-Old’s Playlist

March 14, 2013 at 11:08 pm , by 

2 years, 3 months.

Dear Jack,

Because I’m usually the one to put you to bed at night, as well as for your daytime naps on the weekends, I become responsible for knowing the lyrics to lullabies.

Unfortunately, I don’t know any.

So you’re pretty much stuck with hearing me sing parts of the very few songs I actually know the words to…

“Jingle Bells,” “Away In A Manger,” “How Bad Can I Be? (from The Lorax soundtrack),” and “The Star-Spangled Banner.”

Then, out of desperation for new songs last week, I started singing “Let It Be” by The Beatles. After all, it’s pretty easy to remember the words when most of them are “let it be, let it be…”.

You now ask me to sing it to you every night. So I had an idea… why don’t I let you hear The Beatles’ version of it?

On the way to daycare Monday, I played “Let It Be” for you over the stereo speakers thanks to my old-school iPod with an extremely cracked screen.

Your response: “That’s a man?”

I then explained to you that yes, Paul McCartney is a man.

From there, I introduced you to “Yellow Submarine,” “Octopus’s Garden,” “Come Together,” Here Comes The Sun,” “All You Need Is Love,” “I Want To Hold Your Hand,” “I Am The Walrus,” “With A Little Help From My Friends,” and “Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da.” Then I made you a playlist of those 10 songs called “Beatles For Jack.”

By Thursday, you told me that The Beatles are your favorite band and that your favorite song is “Yellow Submarine.”

It turns out, The Beatles made some pretty good songs for a 2 year-old. The songs that ended up on your playlist are filled with bizarre nouns that you recognize like “walrus,” “egg man”, “octopus,” and “submarine.”

Plus, several of those songs include random sound effects, like the interlude in “Yellow Submarine” or the chorus/title of “Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da.”

Speaking of, you love it in “Come Together” when John Lennon says “shoot me” throughout the song. You think he’s just saying “shoop,” or making some weird animal sound, so I’ll just let you believe that until you’re a teenager who appreciates irony.

You have a dad who is obsessed with good music. I have over 800 albums on my iPad, but The Beatles are definitely my favorite band ever.

I think it’s so cool that you like them too. When you get a little older, I’ll tell you all about the “Paul is Dead” theory, based on their album covers like Abbey Road.

This makes me happy. I just didn’t realize we would get to start bonding so early over good music. I thought you’d be at least able to ride a bike first. I’m starting you young, kid.

 

Love,

Daddy

Leave a comment Posted on parenting, Storytelling

My Son Put Himself In Time-Out… Then Tried To Escape!

March 13, 2013 at 10:29 pm , by 

2 years, 3 months.

Dear Jack,

Sometimes you are just hilarious. What makes it even funnier is when you don’t even know how funny you are being.

Last month in “Getting Dressed? Ain’t Nobody Got Time For That!” I explained how leaving the house in the morning isn’t always so easy, especially when you’re in the mood to just go to daycare in pajamas.

Well, you and I were recently having one of those kind of mornings…

You were physically struggling so hard with me as I tried to put on your pants, it reminded me of a WWE wrestling match. You were so upset with me you were crying and throwing a classic tantrum.

I’ve learned by now not to let myself get emotionally caught up in something like this: I realized you and I were not having a rational discussion or disagreement. Instead, it was very irrational.

You had to get dressed, so I continued to calmly communicate that to you as I pulled you shirt over your head.

Then, in your angst, you accidentally hit my shin pretty hard.

I didn’t react at all, because again, I wasn’t emotionally invested in our struggle- I just knew it almost time for us to leave the house and you still were not fully dressed.

The look on my face surely portrayed one confused dad as you tromped on over to the corner of the living room, putting yourself in time-out. You continued crying loud enough to wake our neighbors, stomping your feet and waving your arms in protest.

Yet… you were the one to place yourself in the time-out corner. I never said a word or even gave you my “mad dad” look.

I was too confused to laugh at that moment, so I used that opportunity to pack my lunch.

Then, as I turned my back to make my way to the refrigerator, I saw you strangely moving sideways like Boom Boom from Super Mario Bros. 3, still crying and flailing around, trying to escape from your self-imposed time-out session.

So I let you.

It was a peaceful and sophisticated car ride that morning. We talked about monster trucks and Cheerios, like nothing ever happened.

 

Love,

Daddy