Ah! She Reads Me!

One of the most amazing things in the world is hearing your child laugh for the first time. I am not talking about the "gas bubble" laugh, but the actual belly laugh that can be elicited only through the most profound buffoonery. Catchr, wheezes when he laughs really hard, which in turn makes me laugh, making him laugh, making me laugh, making him... Well, you get the picture.

The other amazing thing is when I can make my wife laugh (and not just in the bedroom...that actually hurts a little) at something that I have written. I have been told by people that I am a funny individual, but it doesn't mean as much to me as when I'm sitting in my "typing chair" and I hear my wife snickering in front of the computer.

"What's so funny," I ask, not wanting to be left out, and secretly hoping that she is reading a recent post.

"Oh nothing," is usually the answer and I go about my daily routine of sulking about things which mean very little.

Well, yesterday afternoon I received a very distressing email from my wife, that was titled, "It lost its baby..." Since becoming a father, I am pretty sensitive when it comes to parents losing children, and children losing parents, so I was very hesitant to open the email, for fear I would be racked with despair for the rest of my day. I slowly clicked on the message and quickly averted my eyes when I saw that there was an attached picture with something that looked liked a crosswalk with skid marks in the upper left corner.

What sort of sicko did I marry? That was the only thought going through my head as I envisioned my wife bent over some dead animal in the street snapping photos like she was a member of some sort of Eurotrash paparazzi machine. And this is what I saw:

This poor little boogar-getter lost its baby.

She reads me (and later she admitted that it was my blog that she was laughing about).

Awkward Silence

This weekend, my wife and I took our son to the local zoo. He likes the “water park” at the children's zoo, and we like that he likes it. However, before we could visit the children's zoo on this visit, we felt we had to make a quick trip by the penguin enclosure since Catchr had so much fun there last time we visited. Now, I am not sure what is so great about penguins, but I must admit that I, too, have a fascination with these little gentlemen. They are always so proper, dressed in their little tuxedos and waddling to and fro. I think Catchr likes it because he can get right up to the glass and and exchange obscene gestures with these little guys as they swim past, flipping him the bird. And other than an incident that I cover more thoroughly here, we had a great time screaming at the penguins on the other side of the glass, before moving to the children's zoo.

At the children's zoo, my wife usually takes the lead and walks with Catchr through the little “water park”, where he screams with delight at the water rushing past his feet. My wife does a great job keeping her composure while other children (you know, the one's that came straight from the bowels of Hell) kick and splash she and Catchr both. Although the water is only 4-5 inches deep, I am always amazed that she hasn't discretely “dispatched” any of these unruly children (or their caretakers) during our visits. After about 10-20 minutes, Catchr had about as much fun as WE could handle at the “water park” and we went searching for some vittles for our clan.

We found the zoo's main feeding hole and began to order some finger foods to snack on before making our journey home, and this is where the story takes a turn for the annoying.

I have never had a very easy time with idle chit-chat. Unfortunately, when you push around the most gorgeous baby in America, you are bound to have the occasional looky-loo start making googly eyes at your accomplishment. Then the googly eyes start becoming baby talk (which we never use with Catchr), and before you know it, some mental defective is all up in your baby's grill. “And what is your name,” tends to be the favorite question asked. However, Catchr, being only 13 months old, does not have the ability to answer this question, and I, for one, am not so arrogant as to feel this question was directed at me. And so we wait (and I try to figure out where the hell my wife went).

“And what is your name?” Apparently, Ms. Baby-blabber feels that maybe she did not make herself clear enough during round one.

We wait (I know my wife came with me to the zoo).

Eventually after 3-4 minutes of awkward silence, the question is rolled, patted and marked with a “B” before being thrown in my direction. “So how old is he?”

“I'm sorry, what was that?” I like to take control of the situation and make it just as uncomfortable for them as they've made it for me.

“I was asking, How old is he?” This is where the fun begins. Now it is pretty obvious that Catchr is a boy, but sometimes, when I'm feeling particularly annoyed, I pretend to be wholly offended and say, “SHE is 13 months old, thank you.” On this day, though, I opted to confuse the enemy. I just smiled and nodded, “Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Mm hmm, thank you, he IS beautiful,” I stated proudly.

“No...I was asking, How old is he?”

“Woodrow, after his great-great grandfather, on my mother's side,” I replied, making it apparent that I was having a very pleasant conversation with no one in particular.

“Oh my, well...you have a nice day,” she offered as she looked for her escape route.

Noting that I had won this battle, I decided to seal the deal, “Ok, I'll see you tomorrow.” This is about the creepiest thing that you can say to a person that you have just met, and have no intention of ever seeing again. It worked marvelously, she evaporated into the crowd and I began to look for my wife, when out of the corner of my eye, I spotted another looky-loo. Not again.

Some Changes for Layout

As I search the web and read so many different amazing blogs, I begin to question my own blogging style. So many sites have such wonderful layouts and nifty gadgets, and yet mine sits idly by, looking like something from a government research lab...some interesting content, but the delivery sucks. So I am making some changes.

I am looking into different templates for the site that will allow me to put links where I "feel" that I need them, and place pictures where I "desire". This is the touchy feely stuff that makes ME want to go back to other blogs over and over again, so I am going to figure out how to deliver that to readers of my blog...eventually.

Finally, it is football season (the only sport I watch) and relearning CSS to create my own web templates is going to take some time, and I prefer to blog about the absurdities that fatherhood brings, rather than read about header spacing, so again, it will take some time. I hope to have this blog walking the runway by Christmas. I hesitate to indicate the year, as that is less important to me.

Cheers,

Jason

Bulk Store Boy

“There are just too many people touching things...everywhere, everybody's touching something.”

This is the reason my wife gives whenever I ask her about her why she hates going to the Apple Store. She can't seem to stand all the grabby-hands probing and prodding the newest Apple gadgets and gear. Me, I just can't stand the people. Touching or not, crowds of lobotomized consumers tend to give me the heeby-jeebies. But apparently, were it not for all the groping, my wife would be perfectly at home being pinballed between each and every human being on the face of the planet...and so there's Costco.

I am sure that everyone is familiar with this famous American institution, or its red-headed step brother Sam's Club, where frugal shoppers gather in bulk to shop in bulk. Well I, for one, feel a similar detest for Costco as my wife does for the Apple Store. There are too many people touching things. Specifically, there are too many chubbies getting a little chubbier one free sample at a time.

“Excuse me sir, would you like to try a processed fish munchie,” asks a hair-netted geriatric dealer at the corner of the frozen food section.

“No thank you, I already have diarrhea,” I politely retort, as I begin to feel this nagging pain shoot down my left arm. It's Catchr. Evidently, his diaper is not full and he would like a processed fish munchie, or he will tear off my arm and beat me with it. As I am not the type of person to capitulate without some semblance of a fight, I beg my wife to get a “munchie” and see whether or not Catchr will eat “it”. Astonishingly, the child that cried when his mother attempted to feed him birthday cake is a fan of processed fish. He gobbled it up, with a smile...and a little snort.

As we rounded the next corner, I noticed Catchr begin to crane his neck to the left and to the right, looking for his next “meat” fix. Ah yes, Costco/Disney chicken nuggets. “Do you think he'll eat 'em,” asked my wife as she headed toward the sacred offering. She came back with one nugget in a little napkin(ette), just big enough to mop up the grease, and fed Catchr his second mini-meal of the day.

I can't believe he ate it, I thought to myself. You see Catchr has currently been on a see-food diet, holding whatever food you put in his mouth, out on his tongue and then letting it fall into his lap and onto the floor. I'd say he's gotten pickier, but that wouldn't do his Kerry(esque) flip-flopping justice. He'll eat two bites, cry until you bring him something else, and then cry to regain possession of the original food. As such, my wife and I are very happy to find anything that he will consume in total.

I know what you are thinking. That shit is nasty and you really shouldn't poison your child with all that processed food and saturated fat. I agree...in theory, however, an angry baby is NOT good for anyone. And while Catchr is a big fan of fruits and (remarkably) vegetables, we still need a way to get good ol' fashioned protein into his growing body. He does like tofu, and it is a great source of protein, however, given the large concentration of phytoestrogen in soy, I have nightmares of sending a large-breasted 5 year-old boy to kindergarten because I failed to give him chicken nuggets as a toddler.

We finished our rounds through the store, making frequent stops just beyond the handouts. This provided the perfect cover as I would stare at miscellaneous items on the shelves (kidney beans, ranch dressing, adult diapers), while Sara would sneak up to alter and grab a sample. We would proceed down the aisle, making note of Catchr's reaction to different foods. The ones he liked, we bought. The ones he didn't like, we skipped.

And so my arch nemesis became my ally for that day. Until we meet again.

Everything's a Ball

Catchr's newest word is “ball”. He uses it all the time to describe round things. A football is a ball. A basketball is a ball. Even a balloon is a ball. It is wonderful to see him make the connection between a word and physical object. The only problem is figuring out when to stop being impressed by his connection between spherical objects and the word ball, and begin correcting him when he gets it wrong. Granted, the watermelon at the super market looked a heck of a lot like a ball, but c'mon, we all know it's NOT a ball. And the fat lady buying the Ho-Hos in aisle 8, yes she was rotund, but even he must have known that she was not actually a “ball”. How do you correct that?

“No, no Catchr. That is not a ball, it's a just a very fat lady. Can you say fat lady for Daddy?” This seems like it would be highly inappropriate. I don't want to stomp out that fire for learning that is obviously burning in his soul, nor do I want to correct him when the fat lady is within earshot. Should I take him down a couple of aisles, where she can no longer hear us, and point to her and whisper in his little ear, “Not ball. Fat lady”? That simply seems rude. What if someone overhears our private tutorial?

“Oh I'm sorry, I wasn't trying to be rude. I was simply trying to teach my son the difference between a ball and a fat person,” I would mutter, knowing full well this explanation would fail to suffice for any but the most simple-minded of observers. Then I would have to go into the whole story about how he is using his new word in the wrong context and that I was merely trying to save him the embarrassment that I was currently feeling.

The one bright point is that he is actually saying the word “ball” and not “baw” or “bah”, which would be utterly disappointing. I know it seems petty, but last year, after counting his ten fingers and ten toes, my first thoughts were, “Don't let him be stupid.” And, “Don't let him have a speech impediment.” Not being of the religious ilk, I had placed these demands on no one in particular, but still feel it my duty to guide the process/progress in regard to these two demands. So when Catchr first said, “baw,” I swiftly corrected him by over-emphasizing the “l” sound at the end of the word.

“Bawlllll,” I said to him encouragingly.

“Baw,” he retorted.

“No. Bawlllllll,” I said again. This time dragging out the “l” sound for what felt like days.

It took about 10-73 times, but he picked it up like head lice in daycare. Now he owns it...and correctly, I might add. I only wish he would have started out with a word like dog.

What about "The Bob"?

Of course, I'm talking about a Bob jogging stroller; the Bob Revolution jogging stroller in navy blue and white to be as specific as possible.

As I am training to get in shape for the police academy, or simply to keep up with Catchr, I have been jogging almost every morning for the past month. It has not been easy, as my lifelong bout with insomnia makes for some pretty hard morning runs. And mid-day temperatures in the upper 90s keep any sane person from setting foot outdoors. But, I've taken it upon myself to try and make a good impression on my son, and so I have decided to take him with me. Sort of.

My wife seems to feel that she would like to keep up with our little triathlete, as well, and has also decided to take up jogging/running. She is 5' 2” and has had no problems getting back into jogging, while pushing the Bob Revolution. I have run with the stroller on one occasion and had no problems with it at all, and I'm 6' 1”. It seems inconceivable that a couple that is incapable of performing a non-comical slow dance could share the same stroller, without handle-height adjustments, but it works.

The price tag for the Bob strollers is a little steep, but while in REI, my wife and I had two separate Budinskies tell us what a great stroller the Bob was. Now, I tend NOT to take unsolicited advice, but we were already in the market for the stroller (I had done significant amounts of research on the stroller beforehand), so I shook my head and dispensed with the pleasantries. However, some people don't get a clue and when one these self-proclaimed Bob-vangelists began to touch the stroller I was looking to purchase, I let her have it.

“Who do you think you are? Don't try and show me the safety lanyard that attaches to the axle to prevent tipping, incase the runner falls down. And I don't really care that the front tire can be locked in position to make the stroller more stable when I run,” I said to her in a stern voice.

“So you don't care that there is ample storage below the stroller to carry a small diaper bag for your child? Or that the stroller will easily fit into the trunk of your Honda Accord?” she retorted.

“The only thing I care about is that you have got your disgusting grape jelly fingers all over my blue and white stroller. I don't think that is covered under the 5 year warranty. And how the heck do YOU know what kind of car I drive?”

She hurried out the door without uttering another word. And I quickly moved to the checkout line to pay for my new stroller and get home. Catchr and I have not yet found any complaints about the stroller, but I still have nightmares about that strange lady. I still have nightmares.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Some more specs:

It has 3 inches of travel in the suspension (it is pretty cushy).

All three tires are inflatable inner tube tires (like little bicycle tires)

It does NOT have a drink holder (those are an extra $20) and this is my only complaint.

The front wheel has adjustable tracking when it is locked out, to maintain a straight ride.

All three wheels are easily removed without the need for tools.

Even with the wheels on, the crazy lady was right...it fits in the trunk of our car more easily than our full-size Graco stroller...AND it feels lighter.

Boogars and His Bulb Syringe

Many people have cute nicknames that they give to their children, or that their children have brought home with them from school or gramma's house. Unfortunately, most of these nicknames are borne of some traumatic incident that the child would just as soon forget. It is never a good thing to be branded, "Stumpy" after one's first trip to the locker room in middle school. But those nicknames eventually lose their sting and ultimately become just another term of endearment used by close friends and family...hopefully. Well, Catchr's nickname is Boogars, or Boogs for short.

It's not that Catchr was caught by my wife or I with his finger three knuckles deep in his nugget factory. Or that we caught him sitting quietly in the corner, feasting on handful of nose taffy. His nickname comes from his inability to deal with boogars, in general. He cries. And not just a whimper. He cries like someone stole his bike, kicked his dog and gave him a one-way ticket back to Pennsylvania. He will wake up in the middle of the night simply screaming because of these little nose trolls.

It took my wife and I some trial and error to figure out just what was bothering him. We changed his diaper, fed him, burped him and tried to put him back down for the night. Zip, zero, zilch, he wasn't having any of it. Then an idea came to us.

I am not sure how many of you recall the items you took home from the hospital after your child was born. I am quite sure that everyone had a little knit cap or beanie, maybe a blanket of some sort and about 5 tons of paperwork that made you scared as hell to take your little one home. What if he stops breathing? Do I remember the two hour class I took on infant CPR? Don't ever put him in a crib with a blanket...but what about the swaddle blankie? What if it comes off at night and... Oh the joys of parenthood.

Of all the items my wife and I brought home on that glorious day, none has been more useful than the bulb syringe used during Catchr's first hospital scrub down. The nurses, however, are so proficient at using this device that I had to go back to the video I had recorded of the event to get a good look at the proper operation of the device. It was a mouth-sucker and an ear area sucker. I think they might have even suckered near his armpits and giggle region...again, it was so fast, it is hard to be certain. But most importantly, it was a nose-sucker. It was the boogar-getter.

To this day my wife and I use it on almost a daily basis to keep Catchr happy and breathing free. He has not yet figured out how to blow his nose, so until that time, that trusty nose-sucker is always close by.

If you have an infant, than you need a boogar-getter.

Watch Out for this Toy

My wife and I recently moved across country (north to south, not east to west) and I thought I'd share with you a little mishap we had at the very beginning of the trip. We had just sold our house, and closed on the day we were to embark on our journey, but felt that we needed an afternoon nap prior to departure. So, with our car packed full of our traveling essentials (clothes for all of us and toys for one of us), we headed over to the local Holiday Inn Express to get some shut-eye. Our plan was to leave late that evening and drive through the night so as to make the sojourn a little more bearable for Catchr.

After checking into our room and investigating all the wonderful nooks and crannies (I love looking through all the closets and drawers in a new hotel room...I know, I need help), we decided to break out a couple of toys we had packed to keep Catchr occupied during just such an occasion. We had the typical blocks and stuffed animals, but we also fit into our car a toy that we thought would be the cat's pajamas for the hotel room. The Fisher-Price Laugh & Learn Fun with Friends Musical Table.


Now this is no slouch of a toy. It runs around $40-45 and we had owned it for about 2 months (basically as soon as Catchr began pulling himself up to a standing position). And it did give him some incentive to pull himself up and play with all the buttons and lids. I say, "lids" because the little laptop computer's top opens and closes just like any hinged-lid laptop. And just like any hinged-lid contraption offered to an infant, Catchr smashed his hand/finger in the lid on one instance right after we bought it. He did not slam it hard, so we figured it was a fluke. Nope.

After playing with his musical table for about 10 minutes in the hotel room (by now Catchr was very adept at standing on his own) he smashes his finger, not in the laptop, but under the turning page of the plastic book opposite the laptop. We kissed his boo-boo, assured him that the toy was full and would no longer be looking to devour his fingers and set to play with table once more. I proceed to bring in our luggage from the car, only to return seconds before Catchr let out a gawd-awful, blood-curdling shriek. That darn table was still hungry.

This time Catchr fell victim to the laptop lid and his own body weight. Catchr is a pretty rough-and-tumble little boy and is ALWAYS doing product testing with his toys. As such, he was testing the strength/speed of the laptop lid, when he caught his finger in the laptop, up near the hinge. As most unsuccessful product testers do, Catchr had one hand on top of the lid and one hand on the surface of the table/computer. It was the thumb on the latter hand that got pinned, while the weight of his other hand (and now quivering torso) kept him locked in a death-grip with this awful contraption.

"That's it. I'm done!" Those were the only words out of my wife's mouth as she disassemble the the toy and put a very warm and well thought out note on it, offering it to the hotel cleaning crew.

I'm not sure if it's still in the room or not. But what I do know is that jettisoning that parental nightmare gave us a little more space in our packed Honda. As for Catchr, he had a nice purple thumb for the trip, but he got past it very quickly...again, he is a very rough-and-tumble boy.

Baby's Blue Bottom

***This is a repost, as I am having issues with the formatting when I post through email.***

It's difficult to figure out where to start on this one.  Catchr likes bluberries.  That should do it.

Now when I say that Catchr likes blueberries, I'm not trying to give you the impression that he merely enjoys them, when available.  I mean to say that this little boogar is a blueberry monster.  He will eat as many blueberries as he can in one sitting, and at one time, for that matter.  I know what you're thinking.  Blueberries are a superfood.  They are filled with vitamins and nutrients that growing children need.  Moreover, they are filled with vital anti-oxidants that research suggests may help in the fight against certain types of cancer.  Blah, blah, blah.

Sure, a pint of blueberries is less than $2.00 at the local market.  I'll give it to you that blueberries are a fun snack to eat and require very little table oversight.  The issue at hand is not the health benefits of this little power fruit, nor is it the aforementioned joys of blueberries, in general.  The issue I have with blueberries is the "stainability" of these little paintballs.  They stain finger tips and tongues and lips.  But the worst part of all...they can stain a little caboose.

Two nights ago, Catchr decided he was going to go on a blueberry bender and eat as many blueberries as mommy and daddy would let him have...right before bedtime.  Well, little fat-bellied Catchr slept well through the evening and even woke his parents up in the morning soft, pleasant babbling.  As I approached my little smiling monkey, I could tell by the twinkle in his eye that he had a special stinkle in his diaper.  Doing what every responsible father does in a time of crisis, I offered to get all the breakfast fixin's ready if my wife would do the honors of changing Catchr.  She agreed.  I fled...but not for long.

I was summoned back into the room by my beautiful wife who instructed me to inspect the contents of one special delivery, signed, sealed and delivered by one Catchr Jarvis.  Blackish blue...everywhere...that's all I saw, that's all I remember.  Blueberry boy was returning what he had so greedily devoured the night before...and it was easily identifiable.

Now no one wants to hear a plain old dirty diaper story...every parent has one, and they all stink.  The interesting thing about this story is the end.  The rear end.  You see, my guess is that little Catchr sent his parcel some time in the early evening and delivery pick-up was not made until the morning.  This allowed the finger-staining blue to stain another area of the boy's anatomy.

Ah Catchr.  My beautiful blue-bottomed boy.

The following is link to some more helpful info on blueberries and other wholesome foods:

http://www.wholesomebabyfood.com/blueberrybabyfoodrecipes.htm

Playtex Sippie Cups are the Best!

So it would seem that I am back to washing multiple "bottle" parts in order to prevent spills and leaks. Playtex sippie cups have an inner valve system (much like the bite valve system of a Camelback, but vacuum/suck activated) that prevents, both, air from entering the cup and liquid from leaving the cup, unless given a good suck by the drinker. I have tried others from Born-Free (whose bottles we used, almost exclusively, from birth) and Nuby, but my son has ended soaked in whatever was supposed to go into his tummy.



The Playtex sippies are actually interchangeable between handle and no-handle cups, so you will not be stuck with a treasure trove of useless parts once your child graduates to non-handled cups. The only con is that the bite valve creates one more part to wash, but it is a small price to pay for a dry, happy baby.

The Best Swaddle Blanket: The Amazing Miracle Blanket

After explaining to my wife that I started posting to a blog, I decided that maybe it would be wise to go over some the past products we have used to soothe/placate/entertain our son over the past year. Now, mind you, a year is a long time, and it will take some time to go over all of the successes (and failures). So I will start with the one that my wife and I could not live without...

The Amazing Miracle Blanket!

I know, it sounds a heck of a lot like some poorly constructed off-off-Broadway musical flop, but it could not be farther from it. This swaddle blanket IS the cat's pajamas. It is the King/Queen of all other blankets. No velcro, no zippers, no fuss. Just wrap your little monkey in this thing a BAM; out like a light. Sara (my beautiful wife) and I tried the "swaddle" blankets from Target and other stores, but Catchr (our son) is a big boy (both height and weight) and he would end up "busting out" of the swaddle in the middle of the night and end up with a blanket wrapped loosely around him. Yep. Talk about a nightmare. With all the SIDS info out there, this caused us to reconsider the swaddle technique. Until we found the Amazing Miracle Blanket.

The blanket has much more fabric and wrapped Catchr snug in his swaddle until about 3 and a half to 4 months old. He began rolling over and that prompted our shit-canning of the swaddle all together, but by that time he was sleeping through the night and didn't "need" the swaddle any more.

Here is a link to the blanket website.

http://www.miracleblanket.com

Have a great day,

Jason

Diaper Rash and Teething

My goodness, wouldn't that make for a great band name. "Tonight, on the mainstage, let's give a hand for Diaper Rash and Teething!" Well, outside of my fantasy-land, it seems that they do often play onstage at the same time. Catchr (my son) has had the perennial Desitin white-ass for about the past 7 months and has been teething off and on throughout. At about 3 months of age, Catchr developed his first case of diaper rash, and it was bad...bad with a capital "B". My wife and I thought that maybe he had been sitting in a dirty diaper too long through the night (about 6 hours) and pondered waking him up to change him...until we stumbled upon a little known hypothesis. It goes as follows:

During the teething process, children salivate excessively. The extra saliva swallowed by the infant shifts the pH balance of any stool that is produced during this time, subsequently causing irritation when left against the skin. Sara and I have noticed over the past 7-8 months that any time Catchr shows any sign of diaper rash, he also begins to cut new teeth. As such, his little behind is frequently coated with Desitin to alleviate the burning and help heal the area.

We have tried other ointments (from Burt's Bees and other "natural" brands), but nothing has come close to the quick results we've had with regular Desitin (not the extra-creamy, or whatever they call it).

Oh yes, and just to clarify, letting your baby wallow in their own filth for extended periods of time will also cause diaper rash (or so I've heard). We change Catchr about every 3 hours...more if need be. He is our FIRST priority, so we make it a point to keep him clean and happy. Also, excessive use of moist wipes can cause the area to become raw...only wipe as much as necessary to clean YOUR baby. Don't try and wipe the disgusting images from mind's eye by way of your baby's bottom.

So You Think You've Got Hives?

In a previous post, I had noted that over 3000 photos were taken during the past year to document the greatest thing that has ever happened to me. Well, as I was sifting through the plethora of photos, I came across a few photos of Catchr at about 6 months of age and his first run-in with hives.

 Common knowledge has it that hives are caused by some sort of allergic reaction to foods, medicine, pet dander and, in certain curcumstances, extreme heat or cold. You can imagine my chagrin when my pediatrician told us that they may actually be viral!? I had never heard of such a thing, and all of the internet sites I had surveyed focused on the allergic response aspect of hives. This, coupled with the fact that my wife and I had just, within a week or two, started Catchr on rice cereal, led me to believe that my doctor was a crackpot. We were informed that the hives would diminish and disappear on their own in a couple of weeks and if they appeared to "really" bother him, that a small dose of Benadryl was authorized.

 MAKE A NOTE OF THIS: KEEP CHILDREN'S BENADRYL IN THE HOUSE. This was also what the on-call nurse on the pediatrician's emergency line had told us.

 Catchr is pretty even-keeled and took the hives in stride, however they took 4-5 weeks to fully clear up. We gave him Benadryl a few times and discontinued the solid foods until they had completely disappeared. They have never returned, but I did spend quite a bit of time fact-checking that crackpot doctor...he was right. Viruses can also cause hives...and generally this is the cause attributed to an outbreak that was not prompted by any known allergen. The cereal that we had given Catchr was obviously pretty benign, we had no new pets in the house and Catchr hadn't been on any recent nature walks...this led our pediatrician to the conclusion that this was probably the viral type of outbreak. We were also told that they may be back, but that this was simply something that happens to babies and little kids.

 Another "nothing" for new parents to worry about.

 I have attached some photos of Catchr's outbreak for reference...I thought hives would be individual, round bumps...they're not. One other thing, we did put over-the-counter cortisone on some of the more severe hives...this was also recommended.

 A couple of useful links:
http://www.askdrsears.com/html/8/t082400.asp
About midway down the page on this site:
http://www.drgreene.com/21_1117.html

 Catchr's Hives:

See and download the full gallery on posterous

And even some on his beautiful face...now those are the ones that will anger you the most. Who do these hives think they are, messin' with my deadly handsome man?

Posted via email from paleroller's posterous