Poison- or as I call it, liquid paracetamol

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Max is at respite this weekend- he’s gone to the caravan with his lovely other family. As a treat I thought I would book tickets for the zoo for Saturday for the little ones as an end of summer treat.  I should know better than to book anything.  It’s Popples last week at nursery before she starts nursery school in 2 weeks, Oliver is back on Monday- big year 1!  So on Tuesday I get a phone call from nursery saying Popples isn’t well, running a fever and crying.  She’s not a crier.  And she was ok when I dropped her off.  So I went to pick her up and sure enough she is hot as hell.  Great, last week in nursery and she’s going to miss it.  She has recovered well, don’t know what it was, Calpol a cool and soothe on her head, wrapped up on the sofa, lots of sleep and she’s back to her normal self so she can go in and say goodbye (with cake) on Friday.  Huzzah!  I hear you cry.  But wait, not to be outdone by his sister, Olly comes down with the same thing the next day.  Higher temp, floppy, and not wanting anything- I made the mistake of offering him a drink, and got a tearful wobbler for my trouble.

He let me, after a few minutes of persuasion and showing how I do Popples ears, finally take his temperature  and at just over 39 degrees I knew it was time to poison him.  Well if you saw his reaction, the screaming, thrashing, scratching in self defense you would be forgiven for thinking I was trying to kill him, but it is actually strawberry flavoured liquid paracetamol especially designed for children.  Brings down temperatures, and soothes aches and pains.  It comes with an oral syringe for ease.  Yep so easy.  No mess, just squirt (or dribble) into the mouth and most kids swallow it no problem.  Oliver on the other hand, does not care for the syringe, or teaspoon or juice with it hidden in.  Once you have him in position, legs and arms restricted you can actually get the syringe into his mouth.  Now over the years he has developed various techniques for getting it back out and I thought I had got all angles covered.  Yesterday I checked his mouth and could see nothing so thought it had been swallowed.  Silly me.  Of course he hadn’t, he’d somehow stored it in his throat and when I released him it got sprayed (literally) everywhere.  I’d seen him swallow so don’t know how he’d done it.  It is also the stickiest substance known to man, which is really great when me, him the sofa has been sprayed with the stuff.  Anyway after much sweating, and soothing words and restricted limbs, I managed to get some into him, and his temp did come down.  I also had to ask his dad to pick up another bottle on his way home from work- we buy generic now at half the price.

So he has his favourite dvd’s in a pile and  is sat under the “poorly blanket”.  It’s almost time for the next dose, and I hate it.  I hate that I can’t explain it will make him feel better, I hate that he won’t look at me afterwards, I hate that he runs away shouting “no mummy”.  I hope that he will one day understand, Max took years to understand “much better” but now he does I can dress wounds, give him meds and apply creams to his eczema.  I’m hoping he is well enough for the zoo and well enough for his new term.  His immune system is not as robust as his sisters and the lack of sleep doesn’t help either.  I don’t know if offering a smoothie after his poison is just asking for trouble.  Ah well I like to live dangerously!!  Medicine time- I just hope the neighbours don’t call social services 😉

 

xx

Shoe shopping, dentist and haircut.

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These three things fill me with dread.  We had to go shoe shopping this morning for new school shoes as term starts in 2 weeks.  I called in the eldest, Emily, as helper today much to her delight!  I can’t do it alone, it’s physically impossible.  It started well with Oliver in his major buggy watching Popples get measured and choosing shoes.  She tried on every pair in her size and eventually settled on the ones with “little diamond sparkles”.  So far so good- and the added plus that they were in the sale.

How soon the smiling turned to screams of “no more shoes! No! No! ”  and kicking and using his old shoes to try to smack the lady measuring his feet.  We got a rough size and she brought out a selection.  We chose the no-scuff-toes ones and I had him held close talking calmly to him while they tried to fit them.  It didn’t make much difference, by this time he was sobbing, “no shoes, mummy no shoes”  and everyone is feeling like crap.  She checked them, he tried to do a runner, they fit, she asked did we want to try anymore on. (Ray Liotta face) We went and paid (fifty quid for boys school shoes!) but I couldn’t put him through anymore so we paid and left, but I also told the manager that the girl had done a sterling job considering what Oliver had been like.  I don’t know why shoe shopping is so traumatic, Max used to be the same when he was younger.  I wonder if it’s the invasion of personal space, or the feel of new shoes or just because it’s new shoes.

Haircuts are another traumatic time.  We have a fabulous hairdresser called Helen and she used to do Max’s hair so is used to dealing with customers that wiggle.  We have had a couple of dodgy cuts where she just couldn’t finish due to distress by all involved which meant me nipping in at night time and snipping long bits off.  We have had cuts where she’s been lay on the floor next to him snipping bits off.  She gave me her internet password so I could put you tube on my mobile for him to watch (until he managed to grab it and throw it) and last time we took a dvd portable player with Sing! for him to watch.  Last weeks cut was probably the best yet.  One major wobble, one grabbing scissors, and only had to finish the back on the floor.  I am trying to take him regularly so he gets used to it.  He will now let me chase him with a hairdryer and brush his hair so it’s progress.

The dentist- well she checks his teeth whilst he is on my knee screaming his head off.  That’s after I’ve carried a screaming, writhing child up the stairs to the dentists room.

Some things that cause stress can be avoided or be built up to but these three things can’t be avoided.   He needs shoes, he needs his teeth checked, he needs haircuts.  I am hoping that as he becomes more familiar with the situations things will get calmer and easier.  We talk about things, we role play, we read books and I try to present a calm front.  I don’t know why he feels so strongly about these things, I can guess, but I will always try to make them as painless as possible- even if that means buying the most expensive shoes in the shop!

xx

 

Oliver v’s the range rover

This morning started like most other- getting three children ready for the day, drop Popples at nursery, wrestle Oliver in the car and drop Max off at placement.  All done on time- even arrived early for school and was looking forward to Foundation Stage’s production of Jack and the Beanstalk.  We’ve had to grow beans at home and keep a bean diary, and there’s been lots of work done in school with the story being at the focus.  Oliver was part of the beanstalk and had to wave a leaf at the appropriate time.  It was going to be interesting at any rate.

So we pulled up at school and was just finishing listening to Room on the Broom before getting out.  Now I know my son is a runner and a flight risk, we had a near miss just outside the house a couple of months ago where I let go of him to put the key in the door and he ran down the neighbours path into the road.  I shouted and ran after him and got to him a second before the car did.  A couple of weeks ago he got past the teacher on the door in the morning and ran off to the Bug Hotel/outside readers corner.  Fortunately he went down that path and not the one next to it as it would have been onto the road.  Therefore I am super vigilant and hold onto him all the time when he is mobile.  Today I had him by the wrist as it was hot and he is sweaty and I didn’t want to lose my grip on him. Five steps from the gate he managed somehow to get loose and was on the road in front of a range rover who fortunately wasn’t driving too fast and I had reached him and snatched him out of the way.  He is so fast and seems hellbent on escaping and running into dangerous situations that he has no comprehension of.

Teddy’s gran saw the whole thing, she said he was fast and I did nothing wrong but its hard to feel that way when I know him and he’s in my charge.  School made me a cup of tea and had a chat about his Houdini type antics.  I watched some of the play and he was happy as anything waving his leaf.  I think Teddy’s gran got upset too, she used to work with kids like Oliver and it’s never nice to see a near accident. I use reins everywhere else but never needed them to get from the car to school.  Well that’s what you think until this happens and you think “I knew what he was like why did I not do it as a precautionary measure?” When I went to collect him after another day of “what if’s” and sweet tea I took his reins and put them on.  Whilst walking with him out of the gates he managed to get the shoulder straps off.  So I did my research and have ordered him some super strength reins designed for children like Oliver.  They weren’t cheap- nothing is when you put special needs in front of it, but they may save our lives. Teddy’s mum said this afternoon “I bet you can never relax, always waiting to run ” and I am.  I have seen Oliver watching where I put my keys, watching which key I put in the door and I know he is waiting for his chance.

I’ve tried talking about cars and squashing.  Used simple language, told him NO.  Nothing works, he doesn’t understand danger, he has no clue as to the seriousness of consequences, he thinks mum shouting “no” and him having a time out is worth it to “catch” a car.  I need to be more vigilant, and I need to stop being lulled into a false sense of security.  Lets hope these reins help- at that price they had better be good!