Saturday, May 12, 2012

Two weeks old.

As of yesterday, Colin's two weeks old. He's a pretty good baby as far as babies go. (I mean, he still looks like an old man and, you know, he doesn't really do much.) He sleeps most of the time.  At night he gives us 4-5 hour stretches of sleep so we're doing alright on that front. He's different from Oliver in that he wants to be talked to and held more. Oliver didn't seem to care either way as long as he was fed and changed. Colin demands to be held up so he can stare at your face. He also likes people to talk and sing to him way more than I think is normal.

Oliver likes Colin. He is very quick to make sure that I take care of him the second he cries, BUT. Oliver is a huge pain. He is embarrassing to take in public. The fits he throws are epic. He is completely happy and fun to be around - until you ask him to do anything. Then he throws fits.

This past week he has thrown fits when I've asked him to:

-Step on the scale at the doctor's office
-Go potty (more times than I can count.)
-Pick out a shirt to wear
-Climb into his car seat
-Brush his teeth
-Eat anything at all, regardless of how much he likes it

All of these things are things he used to do without complaining. Now he argues. With everything. Even things he wants to do.  He plays a game of saying the opposite of what we say - something taught to him by others in cuteness that is now just obnoxious and rude. He thinks he can joke and play around all the time and get away with it, but he can't.

On top of all of that, Oliver got a rash on his leg while we were in the hospital. We couldn't clear it up on our own so we took him in to the doctor yesterday. It's either shingles or impetigo. I bet it's impetigo as Oliver has never had chicken pox or the chicken pox vaccine, but the doctor didn't seem to pay attention to that. They did a skin scrape and they'll culture it to figure out what it is, but in the meantime we have to keep Oliver from spreading it to the baby.

This means that we have to rub ointment on his leg three times a day. It means that we have to give him medicine three times a day. It means we have to wipe down the toilet seat with rubbing alcohol after he uses it. It means we have to bathe him and dry him with new, fresh towels every day. It means we have to wash his hands many, many times throughout the day. It means he has to wear long pants at all times to keep his crusty, oozing lesions covered up.

Of course, he wants to do none of this. It is a constant battle.

Now I have a small spot on my side that looks exactly like how Oliver's rash started out, so I fear that I am contaminated, too. The doctor disagreed, but she seems to know nothing. It's just too big of a coincidence that I, too, have a big red blister on my side that itches like mad. I'm waiting for it to pop open and crust over like Oliver's did.

I just hope that the baby doesn't get this because although it's an annoyance for me and for Oliver, it'd be a big deal for Colin. And I REALLY do not want to spend time at Children's Hospital again. Especially because it'd make Oliver's temper problems even worse, I bet.

It's not that I didn't expect Oliver's disobedience. I did. I expected Oliver to have a hard time adjusting. But expecting problems and dealing with those problems are two different things. Today I have been trying to relax and only request the absolute minimal of him to see if that makes him feel better. In an exercise of good faith, I let him take a nap without his diaper on. Miraculously, he did exactly as I said and came up from the basement to go potty instead of peeing in his bed. There may be hope for him, yet.

Oliver tickling Colin.

Being a baby.

Fat baby.

Grumpy baby, happy boy.
The dog likes the smaller one a lot better than the bigger one.

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