The whining is endless.

Owen has turned into Mr. Whine About Anything and Everything All the Freaking Time.

Just today:

Waking up from a nap? Whine.
Me singing to Katie? Whine.
Asking if he has to pee? Whine.
Asking if he wants a snack? Whine.
Tom walking down the stairs? Whine.
The cat walking by him? Whine.
The sun isn’t out? Whine.
Putting a pillow next to him? Whine.
Telling him its time for dinner? Whine.
Telling him we have to go downstairs? Whine.
Turning off the TV? Whine.
Asking if he wants to go outside? Whine.
Asking if he wants a juice box? Whine.
Katie cries? Whine.
I turn on the wrong Backyardigans? Whine.
The Backyardigans story doesn’t start fast enough? Whine.
I turn off the living room light? Whine.
Katie reaches for the wipes? Whine.

And once he starts whining, any action or talking will cause him to start again.

It’s tiring.

Katie’s turn.

Aaaaand Katie now has pink eye. At least we already have the drops (and a standing refill, thanks to the PA). She’s also congested, stuffed up, and coughing.

I don’t like this sharing sickness thing we have going on here. Whose bright idea was it to have two kids anyway?

🙂

The sick whining.

He woke up from his nap crying and by the time I got downstairs to him, he just couldn’t seem to stop. Everything I asked him just seemed to make it worse. 🙁

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He obviously doesn’t feel well but doesn’t know how to express it—and isn’t used to it since he’s never been sick like this before.

It just breaks your heart. Grandparents, you might not want to watch. 🙁

Sick kids are no fun.

Owen has been sick for the past few days…basically just running a fever and being cranky.

And on the topic of running a fever, how annoying is it that I can’t get a good reading? I have taken Owen’s temp three different times/places (with the doctor-recommended temporal artery thermometer) and it varied from 101 to 103.5. Seriously? I even tried one with a normal digital thermometer and that didn’t help much, either.

  • First temporal artery (forehead) was 103.5.
  • Second forehead was 101.5.
  • Behind the ear was 101.
  • Armpit was 103.5.
  • Under the tongue is nearly impossible so I didn’t even try.

WTF?! I guess I could break out the rectal if I was super worried.

So anyway…he wasn’t acting like he had a 103 temp which was the only reason I didn’t really freak out (and my mom friends told me that apparently 104+ is the new temp to worry about with kids these days as long as they’re acting okay and drinking okay—which he was). You’d think that with an almost 4-year-old I’d be well-versed in how to deal with a sick kid…but he’s only been sick like once before!!

The worst thing, I think, is that he HATES to take medicine in ANY form. He starts freaking out and crying at the mere mention of needing to take medicine. And even if you give him the choice of how he wants to take it (meltaway tabs, liquid from a cup, liquid from a syringe), he will still vomit it up every time. Well, most every time, but close enough to every time to say every time. 😐

When we were at UNC we had him try and take a melting tablet (seriously, it’s like a Sweet Tart—super yummy and sweet—that melts in your mouth in about 10 seconds) and he freaked out. Flat refuses to swallow. This time, he held it for like 5 minutes at which point he spit most of it out. Then he continued refusing to swallow until he had to say something. So all he got was about 1/4 of one pill, so 1/16 of the recommended dose. And of course he’s a whining snotty mess the whole time, like we’re sticking him with a hot poker. We did get lots of empathetic glances, though (we were in the children’s wing of UNC).

When we got home I thought I’d be sneaky and crush up a tablet into his yogurt. Ha. That was a laugh. After one bite I had grape juice vomit halfway across my living room. I think he’s just so aware of textures and changes to his regular foods that he just KNOWS.

It’s just SOOOOO frustrating.

Oooh, I like that.

Me: Owen, are you going to help mama clean up the house today?

Owen: No.

Me: Mama and daddy have to go to a party tomorrow night so you have a babysitter coming over.

Owen: Am I going to Uncle Tom’s house?

Me: No, they’re going to the party with mama and daddy. Miss Ann from next door is coming over.

Owen: Miss Ann? From next door? Oooh, I like that.

Lets hope he actually likes it when it happens. 🙂

Genetic Testing Results

Today we went to UNC Chapel Hill to the Pediatric Genetics clinic to get the results of Owen’s (and Tom’s) genetic tests explained to us. (This was from when Owen had his blood drawn back in April—it takes a month or so to get the results, and then Tom and I had to get ours done and wait another month, and then it took a few months to get into the specialist.)

Previously, all we had been able to tell from the greek-to-us multi-page results was that both Owen and Tom had the exact same markers (Owen’s and mine didn’t match at all so I basically got no results for me). But the thing with genetic testing (that our developmental pediatrician told us) is that there are MILLIONS of combinations of things and the science is still so new that they maybe only know what (for example) 50,000 of the possible five million results mean. So while they can tell you something isn’t right, they can’t tell you exactly what effect that might have.

So today we got to talk with a genetic counselor who gave us more information. She still couldn’t really give us any more information on what effect the gene mutation has (like if it’s the direct cause of his autism or autistic tendencies) but she was able to tell us enough about the mutation that we can pretty much rule out it being anything serious.

Let’s see if I can explain this.

Basically, the part of the gene that has the mutation is in the middle of the chain—which is better than at either end where two chains connect (if it was at either end, it would definitely cause much more noticeable issues). So my brain worked it out as “It would be like origination and destination points of your trip are set in stone, but the route is variable. If either end changes, the whole thing changes, but if the route changes, it’s not a big deal.” She agreed it was an apt correlation.

Also, the other good point is that he isn’t MISSING anything on the strand—he actually has an extra set of something (his own plus the double set from Tom for a total of three instead of the normal two). And the set of three is fine—if there were four sets it would be a major problem. And lastly, since Tom has the identical genetic mutation and had absolutely no issues growing up (or today), it’s very unlikely (statistically impossible) that it is causing Owen’s issues.

So taking that and all his background (and our family’s backgrounds) into consideration, she didn’t see any reason to think this mutation was the cause of the autism and said we really don’t have anything to worry about. She will research it more to see if she can find anything, but she doesn’t expect to find much. She said the only time we will likely need to think about it again is when he hits the teenage years and/or wants to have kids—in case they have come up with a defining characteristic of that specific mutation or if it will have any effect on his own kids. We were told not to worry about getting Katie tested at all unless we started to notice any issues.

So basically everything scientifically is good…now I just have to get the in-home therapy started so we can work on his minor issues.

I should have listened to my brain.

Last night, during what was quite possibly the best sleep I’ve had lately, I was awoken by a single repeating beep. I listened. I got out of bed and went downstairs. Yep, the damn CO detector battery was uttering its dying beep. At 3am.

WHY DOES THIS ALWAYS ONLY EVER HAPPEN IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT?

Ironically, just yesterday I had a passing thought, wondering when we last changed all the batteries, as we should be on an annual schedule (like New Years, our birthday, etc.) and we’re not.

I should have listened to my brain.

Sick kids suck.

Why does no one warn you that sick kids refuse to take medicine, and if they finally do try taking it, they make themselves vomit?

Owen was an absolute CHAMP taking liquid Tylenol this morning. So when we tried after his nap? He took it, but refused to swallow it…just swishing it around in his mouth, with it slowly dripping out. I kept telling him he needed to swallow it and to NOT spit it out. So of course he started crying, which led to barfing…every single thing from breakfast six hours before—including whole chunks of bagel that he apparently didn’t chew.

Ugh.

I caught most of it in a blanket, but he still hit the couch and it was all over him.

So he had to take a bath AND take the medicine again. The second time he opted for the dissolvable candy-like pills (I always give him an option)—and he STILL looked like he wanted to vomit except he was completely empty.

Sick kids suck. (And I’m hoping the fever is directly related to the pink eye and he’s not actually sick because tomorrow we head to Chapel Hill for his genetics appointment and Friday Tom and I have an event to go to with friends).

I guess this is the payback I get for him never being sick when he was little.

It’s going to be a long day.

My mom-hearing kept me on alert most of the night…Owen has been frequently getting up/whining in the middle of the night, and 2/3 of the time I end up going to his room to resettle him (Sunday night was 10:45, 12:15, and 4:00) so last night I was expecting it—especially with his yucky eye—so every little sound woke me up. Most of them were actually Tom snoring or his nose whistling, but mom hearing apparently can’t discern that too well from a half-asleep state, which then requires me to wake myself up more to REALLY listen. 😐 Then Tom’s alarm went off at 4:30 and I haven’t been able to fall back to sleep…

I think I’d be better off if I shut our door and just didn’t hear anything…except then I’d feel bad missing Owen if he was having issues. 🙁 (Oh, and his door stays open now because he DOES NOT want it closed. So I’m hearing more of his normal nighttime noises anyway…)

It gets me every time.

I finally caught it in time! This is what Owen does EVERY time this scene from Tangled comes on. When you see him cover his face towards the end, that’s when Pascal (Rapunzel’s chameleon) covers his eyes as the two characters lean in to kiss. I tear up each time I watch this. :heart:

After it was over (and of course after I’d stopped recording) he said “Mama! I singed to you!”

When we watched the movie a second time, I tried to grab his hand early and he said “No! Not yet!” 🙂

When I was replaying the video for Tom (while Owen was sitting there) Owen took BOTH our hands and sang to both of us. NOT A DRY EYE IN THE HOUSE…

Diagnosis: Pink Eye

Yep. Owen has pink eye. 🙁

We noticed his left eye looked a little bloodshot Saturday but didn’t really think much about it. We noticed it Sunday as well…and this time there was a little extra “sleep” in the morning. I watched it all day and it wasn’t getting better—but he wasn’t itching it and he didn’t say it hurt and there wasn’t any discharge. Until this morning. His eye was pretty crusty and there was discharge. Ugh. We got an appointment at 2:15 where pink eye was confirmed by a lovely PA.

The poor kid looks so pathetic (I told Tom his eye looks drunk) and he HATES the eye drops (I wish he could understand the drops are the lesser of two evils—the cream would be even worse to apply) but he’s a trooper.

And he was AWESOME at the clinic. It was a bit of a wait—15m early for new patient paperwork, 30m to get into a room, 30m waiting to see the doctor, and probably another 10-15 with the PA—but he kept busy and was in good spirits. He let himself be weighed without complaint. He let himself get measured without complaint. And he even was pretty good with the blood pressure!

Weight: 56#
Height: 44.75″
BP: 100/65

Then when the PA was examining him, he was great with her looking in his ears, listening to his chest (and taking deep breaths!), and shining light into his eyes. He was SO good he earned a toy!!