How to treat Chicken Pox
Calamine lotion & bicarb baths are out!
We’ve all learnt something new about chicken pox this week, so I thought I’d share it in the hope that it would save your child some suffering.
The new information on how to treat chicken pox is to keep the skin moist, to avoid sores drying out and scarring. This also helps to stop some of the itching.
So, since calamine lotion and bicarb soda are drying agents, they’re no longer considered the best treatment.
We chose a combination of products to help the Bump get through this week of major itching.
1. An antihisthamine
This helps to reduce the rash by limiting the body’s reaction to toxins.
We chose Phenergan, because of its’ sedative qualities, and gave the Bump the recommended amount for sedation. It didn’t put him to sleep (but that’s just him), but it did relax and calm him.
2. A bath additive
Soaking in something to soothe and moisturise the skin will stop those itchy sores from becoming dry and itchier.
Pinetarsol was recommended by our local chemist (who is also a friend), and although it turns the bathwater a “pee-yellow” colour, it’s been very effective. It took the redness right out of the Bump’s sores, and he had a pretty good night’s sleep afterwards.
3. A lotion
Something to relieve the itch and moisturise the skin between baths is important, too.
Our chemist friend told us that Pine Tar is the best product for this, and we can use it afterwards to treat the kidz’ excema and mozzie bites.
We want you in our club, kid.
I just got back from the Scout Hall, and had to share these pictures with you.
This is Wren’s investiture ceremony for Cub Scouts.
She has been waiting for this night with such anticipation, and she’s so very proud.
As are we.
Our Wren is the only girl in a troop with two sixes (is that the right terminology?).
There’s another girl being invested(?) next week, but I believe they did Wren’s first
because she came along before any other girls, which kind of takes guts at 8.
{just think of all those boy germs!}
Good on you, Wren.
You look great in uniform!
Song for a …er, second child
I was doing some reading over the weekend, in between
- requests that the lounge cushions be reassembled,
- sloppy wet kisses,
- scolding for mud-throwing,
- praising for sharing,
- cuddles,
- fetching drinks,
- tickles,
- orders to clean up lego now please,
- cleaning up spilt drinks,
- smiling at silly jokes and…
Well, you get the picture.
And I fell in love with this beautiful poem.
Song for a Fifth Child
Mother, O Mother, come shake out your cloth,
Empty the dustpan, poison the moth,
Hang out the washing, make up the bed,
Sew on a button and butter the bread.
Where is the mother whose house is so shocking?
She’s up in the nursery, blissfully rocking.
Oh, I’ve grown as shiftless as Little Boy Blue,
Lullabye, rockabye, lullabye loo.
Dishes are waiting and bills are past due
Pat-a-cake, darling, and peek, peekaboo
The shopping’s not done and there’s nothing for stew
And out in the yard there’s a hullabaloo
But I’m playing Kanga and this is my Roo
Look! Aren’t his eyes the most wonderful hue?
Lullabye, rockaby lullabye loo.
The cleaning and scrubbing can wait till tomorrow
But children grow up as I’ve learned to my sorrow.
So quiet down cobwebs; Dust go to sleep!
I’m rocking my baby and babies don’t keep.
Only, I needed just the two babies to become the mother whose house is so shocking.
Holy Crap!
Please go to the loo before watching this if you have a weak bladder.
No childhood is complete without a little harmless terror.
~ Think I might make that my new parenting motto.
Birthday lunch
Grandma treated us all to lunch at the Hogsbreath Cafe, to celebrate the bump’s 5th birthday on the other weekend.
‘Cause the kidz have been asking and asking (and asking and asking)…. and asking and asking…
Okay, I’m sure you get the idea.
Anyways, Grandma whispered to the girls that it was a special day and they brought out this humongous chocolate brownie with cream, ice cream and chocolate syrup.
Oh, and don’t forget there were sprinkles, too.
And they also sang a whacky, impossible-to-understand birthday song, with much stomping-of-feet and hand-clapping.
The Bump was stunned. In a quietly-pleased kind of way. And shy.
And shocked at the size of his dessert, especially since he already had a bowl of ice cream in front of him.
- Although he did share it with us all.
Mama had been thinking about ordering one herself, but decided that her hips didn’t need the help.
~ They could only just fit in between the kidz’ car seats on the way to lunch.
But guess who finished the whole doodad off?
That’s right.
And it was gooood.
First day of school for Mr Bump
I’ve been trying all day to upload a video of Mr Bump getting ready for his first day of school this morning, without success.
It’s only 783mb, and the limit for youtube is gb, so that’s not it.
But for some reason the upload process just goes on and on… and on.
I actually let it go while we ate dinner to see how long it would take, and after an hour and a half it was still going… and going.
So no video. Yet. This will not beat me, but for tonight I am admitting a (temporary) defeat.
He had a great day, by the way.
No tears, few complaints about my leaving and lots of things to show me when I arrived to pick him up in the afternoon.
The thing that most impressed him (as it should - I was impressed, too), was the Smartboard.
OMG it was amazing. I wish we had one of those when I was at school!
Oh, and Planning Queen would be really proud of how I organised all his school clothes into one drawer to make dressing easier for him.
For the love of a shower
On Tuesday, our hot water heater went kaput.
We thought.
I boiled a kettle & gave the kids a sponge bath.
WonderHubby found the details of the plumber who had installed it, and found that luckily it was still under warranty, having been installed just before we bought our new home.
So the plumber came out the next morning and pronounced the water heater A-OK.
It just wasn’t getting any power through.
Maybe it was the cut-off switch in the power box?
So he called an electrician, who came out that afternoon and declared the cut-off switch fine.
There was a broken power cable leading to the water heater’s fuse.
And he couldn’t fix it, but if we called the electricity company…
So we called the electricity company and they sent someone out that evening.
This is still Wednesday.
Well, it’s actually a matter of replacing the whole power box, because you see, your one is the old type, and we use a new one now and they’re not compatible (or something).
But the electricity company doesn’t do that work.
Sponge baths for all of us. Again.
WonderHubby called another electrician, who’d installed fans for us in November (and were really nice to deal with).
They’re busy until Friday or Saturday, but we’ll do our best to fit you in on Friday, “because we know you need a shower”.
Apparently they could smell that over the phone.
We took the hint and visited Grandma’s house for showers on Thursday evening.
So now it’s Friday afternoon, probably too late for our water to be hot by tonight.
And I am waiting to hear whether we will be rescued today or have to wait until tomorrow (and pay a weekend rate, into the bargain).
Did I mention that it’s the middle of Summer?
And deodorant? I’m warning you, I’m almost out.
If you have any heart at all or nasal sensitivities, you will be wishing (washing?) us all well.
Bumpy Crafting Apparel
Doesn’t everyone do craft in their Barbie dress?
The Mr Bump fashion range also includes stunning footwear, formal clothing and headwear accessories for the fashion~conscious man about town.
A Bird in the… What?
If a bird in the bush is worth two in the hand, what is this one worth?
Mr Bump & I saw this bird the other day as we were leaving OfficeWorks, surveying the world from inside their drainpipe.
We spent the next 20 minutes talking about what would happen if it rained and the roof filled up with water.
Mr Bump decided that the bird wouldn’t block up the pipe, because it would get washed out by the rain and have a shower.
Is every woman in labour this dopey?
With Wren’s birthday coming up next week, I’ve been reminiscing about her formal entrance into this world.
As you do.
And while the memory of the pain involved does indeed fade with time, the embarrassment remains.
My main memory is of suddenly becoming scared and refusing to open my legs to push.
That’s right, when the midwife judged the time was nearing, I clenched my knees and refused to co-operate. I don’t know how I thought that baby was coming out, but it wasn’t through down there.
Luckily, my mother was also present and knew how to deal with the situation. Seeing that I was beyond persuasion she turned to persuading the midwife, and the pair of them ganged up on me. Bullies.
They each grabbed a knee and, well, let’s just say that I was not the winner in the very short wrestle that ensued.
Once Wren finally emerged and was laid, naked and pink, on my deflated belly I blurted “It’s a real baby”. Real perceptive.
The attending medical circus must have thought I’d slipped a cog. Pethidine has a lot to answer for.
Then again, maybe dopeyness is more common in this situation. In the interests of objective scientific research, I’d love to hear your dopiest birth stories.
What were your first words upon sighting your newborn? Did you brawl with your obstetrician?
Feel free to bare all here, or if you write a post about it on your own blog, I’ll include a link to it.