Sarah found a new game to play, and it’s based on the children’s TV show “Big Comfy Couch”. She pulls all of the books/toys/videos from their shelves and says, “Who made this mess? ME?! I better clean it up…it’s only fair!” Cute…I know. But there’s a glitch. When she cleans it up, instead of putting all of this stuff where it belongs, she sticks it behind a chair in the family room. It was adorable the first time…after about 20 times it’s becoming a lot of work - for me.
That brings me to my major annoyance this week. No matter how hard I work, nothing ever seems to be done. When I was working in the nursing world, I had tasks to do that could actually be completed. I would dress a wound, chart, report any problems, and then I would be done…on to the next task. Even if that task was, say, an enema or a catheter, I would be happy to help. Mainly because I was getting paid, people were appreciative (for the most part), and I wouldn’t have to do it over and over again.
Since I’ve been staying home with my kids, I’ve been really missing the feeling I get when I complete a task. I just don’t get the same sense of satisfaction when I finish a load of laundry, because there are usually a few loads waiting for me. When I’m cleaning the bathroom upstairs, chances are good that someone is peeing on the floor in the other bathroom. And, as I’m washing the floor in the front hall, I can be sure that one of the kids is walking through the back door with muddy boots…or God forbid they step in something much nastier.
I hope as the kids get older, keeping the house clean will get easier. By then they’ll be able to pitch in. Maybe I’ll have a chore chart stuck on my fridge, and they’ll all follow it religiously. I’ll be careful not to give indoor tasks to the girls and outdoor tasks to Ryan. (I hate it when people assume that girls should be doing the dishes and boys cutting the grass.) They’ll do their own laundry, and actually put it away. They’ll always hang up their coat in the closet and put their boots on the tray. Before going to bed every night they’ll make sure their room is tidy, and before they leave in the morning their bed will always be made.
If I really want them to do this, I should probably try doing it myself, first.
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
Merry Christmas To You...Oops!
I love this time of year – the beginning of the holiday season. In the first week of December we get out our Christmas decorations, each one evoking a special memory. We sing our favourite Christmas carols and bake delicious cookies and squares. It is also the time of year that people like to share their treats with friends…and when Ryan has had his only “food accidents” at school.
The first accident happened in the day-care Ryan was attending three years ago. The children were sitting down for snack and a well-meaning volunteer gave him a cookie - a very easy mistake to make. When you have a lot of different staff members and the occasional volunteer, it’s easy to overlook someone with a food allergy. I have to say that apart from this incident, this daycare handled allergies incredibly well. The week before the “accident” I attended a meeting, where I trained the entire staff to use the Epi-Pen and explained the extent of Ryan’s allergies. They posted a form on the wall that included a picture of Ryan, the foods he is allergic to, and our action plan. Unfortunately, the volunteer did not see this form. But…accidents happen, and fortunately for Ryan, this time his reaction was limited to nausea.
The second mistake was in Ryan’s JK class. One of his friends brought a tray full of delicious Christmas cookies to school. The teacher was standing on the other side of the room as the tray was being passed around the lunch table. Ryan picked up one of the irresistible cookies, and as he put it to his lips the teacher remembered he shouldn’t be eating it. She yelled out, “Ryan, NO!!”, but it was too late. He took one bite of the cookie, and after a few seconds he threw up all over himself. When I came to pick him up a few minutes later, he was feeling much better. His teacher, on the other hand, felt absolutely awful. I explained to her that Ryan is on a learning curve – he needs to learn that he can’t always eat what everyone around him is eating. This must have been a good lesson for him, because he hasn't had one since.
Relief…that is what I felt after each of these accidents. I thought it would be fear, but it was mostly relief. I was relieved that Ryan’s reactions were relatively mild – and I was also relieved that Ryan had made a mistake in the first place. For those few seconds, when he was in awe of this beautiful Christmas cookie, maybe he forgot that he is an “allergic kid”.
The first accident happened in the day-care Ryan was attending three years ago. The children were sitting down for snack and a well-meaning volunteer gave him a cookie - a very easy mistake to make. When you have a lot of different staff members and the occasional volunteer, it’s easy to overlook someone with a food allergy. I have to say that apart from this incident, this daycare handled allergies incredibly well. The week before the “accident” I attended a meeting, where I trained the entire staff to use the Epi-Pen and explained the extent of Ryan’s allergies. They posted a form on the wall that included a picture of Ryan, the foods he is allergic to, and our action plan. Unfortunately, the volunteer did not see this form. But…accidents happen, and fortunately for Ryan, this time his reaction was limited to nausea.
The second mistake was in Ryan’s JK class. One of his friends brought a tray full of delicious Christmas cookies to school. The teacher was standing on the other side of the room as the tray was being passed around the lunch table. Ryan picked up one of the irresistible cookies, and as he put it to his lips the teacher remembered he shouldn’t be eating it. She yelled out, “Ryan, NO!!”, but it was too late. He took one bite of the cookie, and after a few seconds he threw up all over himself. When I came to pick him up a few minutes later, he was feeling much better. His teacher, on the other hand, felt absolutely awful. I explained to her that Ryan is on a learning curve – he needs to learn that he can’t always eat what everyone around him is eating. This must have been a good lesson for him, because he hasn't had one since.
Relief…that is what I felt after each of these accidents. I thought it would be fear, but it was mostly relief. I was relieved that Ryan’s reactions were relatively mild – and I was also relieved that Ryan had made a mistake in the first place. For those few seconds, when he was in awe of this beautiful Christmas cookie, maybe he forgot that he is an “allergic kid”.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)