Who Needs Fingernails

After I got the hand, foot, and mouth disease (HFMD), which is a form of the enterovirus, from Caitlyn a few months ago, I figured that the worst of it was behind me. My blisters have all peeled away and healed. Even my bout with epididymitis is all but a distant memory. Things were starting to look up. Little did I know that HFMD was far from done with me. As an added bonus and parting gift, HFMD has now decided to make my fingernails start falling off. You read that correctly. My fingernails are falling off.

Several weeks ago, the wife noticed that Caitlyn’s fingernails were slowly cracking and splitting apart at the base. Not knowing what was happening, she took her to our pediatrician, who said that HFMD was the culprit. It turns out that in certain cases, HFMD can cause the fingernails to fall off. Sure enough, within a week, Caitlyn’s nails were slowly coming off one by one. Thankfully, this didn’t seem to bother her too much, with more of her energy directed at picking at her fingernails and requesting them to be cut.

Around the same time, I began to see a weird discoloration in my fingernails. At first, I wasn’t sure if HFMD was affecting me too, but when one nail completely came off and the other nails slowly beginning to chip off, there’s really no doubt that I have to be one of the unluckiest fellows in the world.

As I said before, when you find out that your child has HFMD, get the heck out of Dodge. You, your epididymis, and your fingernails will all thank me later for it. 

One down, four more to go!

The One

There is one question that is undoubtedly asked to all mothers after they've had their first child, and one we've been asked many, many times. "So, when are you guys planning on having another one?" If the response is, "We're happy with just one," this is followed by gasps and looks of shock and repeated demands of "Why?! For the love of god, why?!"

Is one really the loneliest number? Let's pretend for a minute that we were to only have one child. Would that really be the end of the world? Who's to say that having two or more children is better?

The wife has constantly stated that the reason she would want another child is so that Caitlyn won’t be lonely or grow up weird. Yes, the wife thinks only children grow up weird. I’m not sure where she exactly got this idea from, but she claims she’s read several reports that back this up, though she has yet to show me any of these purported claims. Therefore, I’ve taken it upon myself to delve into and settle this matter once and for all.

There’s an unfortunate stereotype that only children are lonely, selfish, maladjusted, spoiled brats. And weird if we’re to believe what the wife says. However, I am happy to say that none of this is true. There has been plenty of actual research in peer-reviewed journals that proves otherwise.

The most important finding is that an only child is not much different than children with siblings. In fact, one of the most marked differences is also a positive. Only children have been found to score higher in measures of intelligence and achievement. This is primarily because of greater parental attention. In short, they tend to do better in school and get more education than other kids. This could be our one shot to get our kid into Harvard.

Interestingly enough, while only children lag behind their counterparts when it comes to social skills when they’re young, they are actually more likely to make friends than children with siblings by the time they’re in middle school. Siblings are more prone to just sticking with each other.

I’m not saying that I only want to have one child. But I'm not saying that I'm ruling it out either. I just want to advocate that there is nothing wrong with that if indeed that is what we or anyone else were to decide. Parents shouldn't be ostracized for saying they are content with only having one child. It doesn't make you a bad or selfish parent. Caitlyn won’t grow up weird or be an outcast if she doesn’t have a brother or sister. Maybe a bit quirky, but that’s more than a-ok in my book. Just some food for thought.

Outing with the grandparents

Having fun at amusement park

I win!

Is that an automatic or stick

 

Lonely?

Let's have 6 more babies!

3 better than 1?

The more, the merrier

My Way or the Highway

Ever since my parents came to visit us about three weeks ago, my philosophical approach of “my way or the highway,” for dealing with Caitlyn has been indefinitely put on hold.

While she used to be pretty good about feeding herself and going to bed, Caitlyn has now gotten quite lazy and will now whine until the wife feeds her. She also refuses to sleep at night now unless the wife lies down with her until she falls asleep. Both of these have left me, to say the least, a bit displeased.

Whenever I bring this up, the wife will tell me to take care of things. Taking care of things in my book involves letting Caitlyn sit in her seat until she decides to feed herself and dropping her off in her bed and promptly leaving after reading a goodnight story. Unfortunately, my tactic also involves prolonged periods of crying and screaming, both of which are frowned upon by the wife and Grandma.

When I first became a parent, I vowed that I would not be like my mom and dad. If you ask me about my childhood, the first thing that pops to my mind is all the beatings I used to receive. And the thing is, I don’t even remember  being that bad of a kid. I’m sure most kids got a few licks here and there growing up. After all, if you spare the rod, you spoil the child, right? But there’s a difference between receiving a few light taps on your hand and having your bottom lit up like the Fourth of July where you end up with welts and bruises all over your arms and legs.

My parents’ favorite instrument for dishing out punishment was this feather duster whose handle was made of bamboo. I swear I despised that feather duster as a kid. I remember trying several times to break the darn thing, but never having enough strength to carry out the task. The most I could do was pluck out the feathers from it and be satisfied with that. In order to not let the neighbors know what was going on, my parents would turn on the radio nice and loud so no one would hear my screams and cries as I ran through the house trying to escape from their clutches.

I’m not saying that my parents are horrible people, in fact, they are very lovely, generous people, but their method of disciplining was definitely misguided and I’m sure has affected who I am today. That is why I refuse to hit my child. I know what it’s like and I know how it’s affected my relationship with my parents. That feeling will never go away, no matter how much I want to forgive or forget.

However, my mom commented the other day how similarly I treat Caitlyn like she used to treat me. Excuse me? I don’t see a feather duster in my hand ready to strike my child. But the more I think about it, maybe I am acting a bit like my parents. While I am not hitting Caitlyn, maybe trying to force her to do what I want isn’t the best way. I don’t yell at my child and I am very patient when it comes to dealing with her, but could I be causing a rift in our relationship by being so demanding and wanting things done my way?

I just think back to all the Super Nanny episodes I’ve watched. In the case of a child not wanting to go to sleep, Super Nanny’s advice was always to let the child cry it out, and if they happened to leave their bed, to put them back in. Even if you had to do this 100 times, you kept at it to let the child know you meant business. Of course, this was all done in a calm and patient manner. Eventually, the child would get the picture and do what was asked of them because they knew they had no other choice.

That’s the same philosophy I’ve tried to use with Caitlyn. I want her to know I mean business. I think that’s partly why she’s so much better behaved when it’s just me and her. She knows I won’t cave in to her demands. But when the wife’s there and now Grandma, it’s difficult for me to maintain this persona and it’s beginning to make me question the way I do things.

As my mom likes to say, is it so wrong to feed Caitlyn every now and then? Is it so bad for the wife to lie with Caitlyn until she falls asleep? Is it so wrong to give Caitlyn what she wants? Isn’t it better than letting her cry and get upset?

I seriously don’t know. But maybe I shouldn’t have such a stranglehold on things. Maybe it’s OK to let go sometimes. Just sometimes. And maybe just until Grandma leaves town.

Four-day vacation!

Sharing a smile

 

Who's taller?

Is my food ready yet?

 

Here fishy, fishy

Grandparents are the best

 

Taking a dip with Grandpa

Say, "Three!"

A Tale of Two Frustrations

It’s been about 3 weeks since I first became familiar with epididymitis and after 3 weeks of antibiotics and medication, there’s still a persistent dull ache whenever I move or touch my testicular region. I still hold out on the small glimmer of hope that the pain and swelling will eventually go away like the doctor said. However, forums about epididymitis paint a completely different picture. Take a look at just a few of the quotes I pulled off the Internet from various people talking about one of the worst things to plague man.

“I’ve had it for almost 2 years. 2 years of agony, depression, pain and worrying.”

“This is the WORST pain in my whole life...I have balled my eyes out for days just wishing the pain would let up...I just can’t imagine going weeks, months or even years.”

“One day, I almost passed out while driving because the pain in my left testicle was so severe.”

“OMG!...I have had this for 3 days now and now I’m scared to death after hearing you all having it for months and years...Does anyone else feel the worst pain in your lives because of this??”

“Tell you what, I’d jump at the chance of removing my testicle because it's nothing but trouble. They could always freeze sperms if you wanted children, but I don’t fancy this on and off for the rest of my life.”

“Removing the testicle may be a waste of time. One urologist told me some men still have pain. Now I just live with the pain.”

Maybe instead of feeling depressed and frustrated, I should feel thankful that my pain hasn’t reached such a level as to make me want to cut off my testicle.

Speaking of frustration, I’ve been having the same feeling when dealing with our quest to get Caitlyn potty trained. Good news is she now knows not to pee when she’s in her underwear. At first, I thought she was trying to hold her pee in because she would go hours without having to use the bathroom. But it turns out that lots of kids can go long stretches without peeing. I read online about a two-year-old who could hold his bladder from 7:00 at night until 7:00 in the morning. That is mighty impressive.

Say, you wouldn’t be interested in hearing one of my many stories about urine, would you? That's right, I have just as many stories about pee as I do with fecal matter.

In high school, my friends and I would go to the library at nights to “study.” Most of the time would be wasted chatting and horsing around. One time, I joked with a friend that I was going to ask his sister out. He pretended to get angry and put me in choke-hold. Or maybe he wasn’t pretending because he never let go of the hold and I passed out.

When I woke up, I was in a pool of yellow liquid. For a moment, I thought that maybe someone’s drink had spilled on top of me, but then I slowly realized that I had peed in my pants. Not uncommon because the bladder relaxes when one passes out. Long story short, my friend apologized profusely and cleaned up all the pee on the floor. No way I couldn’t forgive him after that.

Anyway, enough about me. Back to Caitlyn. If she does need to go pee, she’ll tell us to switch her into a diaper. When she says this, we immediately take her to her the potty. In order to get her to sit on it for an extended period of time, we bribe her with the iPad. However, she’ll just play with it until she’s tired of it and then request to have a diaper put on. Come to think of it, that’s a pretty crafty way for her to get in some playing time without actually having to go potty. Even a spiffy new toilet hasn’t really convinced her to go.

So that’s where we’re stuck now. Any helpful suggestions? 

I'll sit, but I won't pee!

Where's my iPad?

Get to Know Your Epididymis

“I want to remember this summer…but not like this…” – Gabriella Montez, High School Musical 2

Oh, Ms. Montez. Your words of wisdom have never rung truer. I, too, wanted to remember this summer, but definitely not like this.

I have a cautionary tale for any fathers out there. Actually, any males out there. Words such as testicle, scrotal pain, inflammation, and penile discharge will be used in the following paragraphs. If those words don’t seem very appealing to you, then I suggest you stop reading right here.

Just as I’m starting to get over my enterovirus and looking forward to things returning back to normal, I start getting a dull ache/pain in my testicular region Saturday evening. I initially brushed it off, but as the night wore on, something definitely was not right.

The next morning, I decided it best to go to the hospital to see what the problem was. While there, I started trying to self-diagnose myself online. After some time, I stumbled across an article about epididymitis. Epididymitis is characterized by the inflammation, pain, and discomfort of the epididymis, which is a tightly-coiled tube that sits on the back of the testicle.

There are several causes of epididymitis, but the one that caught my attention, and one of the rarer causes is having the enterovirus. Symptoms of epididymitis start gradually and usually peak within 24 hours. There’s abdominal pain, scrotal pain and swelling, occasional blood in urine, penile discharge, fever, and nausea. Standard treatment usually includes taking antibiotics for 10 days and praying fervently that the epididymitis disappears.

Well, I definitely didn’t have any penile discharge, blood in the urine, fever, or nausea, but there was scrotal pain and swelling, and I did just have the enterovirus. I decided to settle for this self-diagnosis, which was better than my other alternative, testicular torsion – the twisting of the spermatic cord, which cuts off the testicle’s blood supply. Pain is acute and if treatment is not swift,  can lead to the excision of the testicle. Epididymitis definitely sounded a lot better.

Thankfully, the doctor agreed with me and sent me home with my antibiotics. However, I was not at all pleased with his response when I asked him how long it would take before I was better.

“Maybe a week. Maybe 2 months. It’s very hard to tell. Come back again next week for a check-up.”

2 months!! Are you kidding me?! Things didn’t get better when I started doing more research and found that quite a few people have had epididymitis for years and that it’s commonly reoccurring. Moreover, complications may include sterility, scrotal abscess, infection of the bloodstream, and gangrene. Gangrene?!! This is exactly why you stay off the internet.

Now I’m afraid to look down when I go to the bathroom for fear that I’ll see my testicle rotting off. I’m afraid to touch my testicle for fear that it’ll explode. I’m afraid of standing or walking for fear of infected blood coursing down to my testicle. It takes all my strength and willpower not to think about the negatives. Why do outlooks always have to be so serious?

So what’s to be learned from this grisly story of mine? What should you walk away with? Well, for one, if your child ever gets the enterovirus, stay the hell away. Go live in a hotel several miles away for at least a week. You miss your child? There’s something called Skype and Facetime these days.

If leaving town isn't possible, take all necessary precautions to not get infected. That includes washing your hands as often as humanly possible, wearing a facemask, taking your vitamins, exercising, getting enough sleep, and disinfecting things as you use them. And if luck is on your side, hopefully, you won’t turn out like me.

Above all, make sure you take time out each and every day to appreciate your testicles. Because you just never know.

Real Convos with My 2-Year-Old

When I started growing little, itty bitty spots on my hands from the enterovirus, I thought, “Hey, these are pretty cute.” But now that they’ve mutated into sores and blisters and taken on a life of their own, I’m having second thoughts about the cuteness, unless you consider a leper cute. My mouth looks like it could belong on a poster addressing the dangers of STD's, and I’ll spare you a photo of my feet with blisters peeling off. It’s cruel how a disease that mainly persists in children is actually more potent in adults. But I suppose better me looking like a leper than my daughter.

With all this time off this week, I’ve managed to catch up on a lot of reading and also stumbled upon some Youtube videos I found on a fellow blogger’s site. It’s a series called “Convos with My 2-Year-Old.” It’s basically about a dad and the conversations he has with his daughter with the twist being that another grown man is taking the place of his 2 year old daughter in the videos. They're all rather amusing, in my opinion.

But this got me thinking; this guy is having some pretty advanced conversations with his daughter. I don’t know if she’s at the front-end or the tail-end of being 2, but either way, that’s some impressive stuff. I actually want some proof that this guy isn’t yanking my chain. Show us some real conversations of you and your daughter!

Caitlyn’s almost 2 years and 3 months old now and this is what our typical conversations look like. Think these would make for some good videos? I would title them, "REAL Convos with My 2-Year-Old."

Catilyn: TV!
Me: No. You can’t watch TV yet. It’s too early.
Caitlyn: TV!
Me: No. The TV’s sleeping now. Shhh…
Caitlyn: Sleeping?
Me: Yes. Sleeping.
Caitlyn: Shhh….
Me: Shhh…
Caitlyn: TV!!!!!!

(telephone ringing)
Me: Hello?
Caitlyn: (comes running over) Who.
Me: (talking on the phone)
Caitlyn: Who!
Me: (talking on the phone)
Caitlyn: WHO!!!!
Me: It’s Grandma.
Caitlyn: Oh. (walks away)

Look at my cake!

Time for a wish

 

Tilted sideways

It's a Kodak moment

Being Sick Sucks

What time is it?
Summertime! It's our vacation!
What time is it?
Party time! That's right, say it loud!
What time is it?
Time of our lives! Anticipation!
What time is it?
Summertime! School's out, scream and shout!

Admit it. You know where this song is from. You've either secretly or openly watched it before and liked it. After a busy month of watching High School Musical 2 in summer school with my students and neglecting my blog, I was all but ready for a 2 week break before school starts up again. Caitlyn would be at daycare, letting the wife and me to have some time to ourselves.

However, much to our dismay, Caitlyn contracted an enterovirus from her daycare on Friday. Enteroviruses are so named because they initially enter the body through the gastrointestinal tract, but can cause a wide variety of illnesses. They are common among young children and sprout up mainly in the summer and early fall, with the most common place for infection is, where else, at daycares.

Symptoms include high fevers, chills, muscle aches, sore throats, weakness, and rashes and blisters on the hands, feet, and face. Most of the symptoms dissipate within 3 or 4 days, but it’s best to avoid contact with other people for a week to prevent the spread of disease.

That’s why Caitlyn has been placed under house arrest for the past week. For her part, she’s taken to it quite well. Probably because the wife leaves the TV on for her rather than having to deal with a fussy, sick baby.

To make things worse, I also contracted the enterovirus from Caitlyn the other day and can now say that I have shared in her misery. The wife has miseries of her own too, mainly having to take care of the two of us and doing most of the chores herself, all while trying to avoid getting sick. Actually, that doesn’t sound too different from what she does on a normal basis.

Even if none of us had gotten sick, the weather hasn’t been very cooperative. With an approaching tropical storm and a week’s forecast of rain, going for some trips outdoors would have been out of the questions. Ah well, maybe next week will bring a brighter outlook for us when we’re all better and if the wife somehow manages to escape unscathed.

My leg is not dinner!

Brushing up on her camera skills

 

Cereal and TV

Smiles

 

Taking a break

Growing up too fast

 

Doing the same pose

Catch me if you can!

 

I win!

Happier times