First off, I really want to thank all of you for your support yesterday. I turned into a complete basket case over the weekend and I really doubted myself. Your kind words and great suggestions really made a big difference.
I need to highlight the technique that Laura shared with me because it’s AWSOME and everyone should know this. To give medication, you lay the child down on the floor, clamp his head between your legs and pin his arms down with your thighs. Then, slowly put the medication into the child’s mouth, holding his nose as necessary. It sounds brutal, but after the major battles we were having, this is a much kindler, gentler, more effective method than the tag team smack down effort we had been using.
Other good news is that I took Michael to the doctor for a follow up yesterday, and he confirmed that for Michael’s weight, he only needs two doses a day, not three. So that means only 15 more doses to go. And that’s only if the Strep test comes back positive. I’ll be calling in a few hours to find out about that, but I’m pretty sure it will. Michael has really started to improve since we started them.
So that leads me to the topic of my post, fights. Michael is fighting everything. Now that I’m a little calmer, it’s sort of funny.
One of the big fights over the past very days has been over clothes. Michael rebelled against the hospital gown that they provided him in the ER, and refused to wear it. He ended up lying on the hospital bed with just a diaper and socks. To keep him warm, I curled up around him and snuggled with him. The next fight was on Sunday morning after he threw up on himself (and me and the sofa). He fought me when I tried to take the gross clothes and then flat out refused to put on anything new once I got him stripped down. So, he spent the morning running around in socks and a diaper. He freaked when I finally forced him into a shirt, but he was making me cold just looking at him.
Yes, I realize that last statement makes me old. I don’t care. I swear he was making me cold.
I finally managed to get pants on him after we fought about a diaper change.
He has told me he has no poopies, when he has poopies. He has insisted that I need to change a perfectly dry diaper because he thinks he has poopies. He has told me he doesn’t need poopies while turning red in the face and grunting. He can say whatever he wants, but the smell always gives him away.
He has also had an issue with being touched. Sometimes he wants to be held, others he doesn’t. “DON’T TOCUH ME!” he’ll say as he lays down on me to snuggle. Huh? Then, he’ll ask for me to eat the bugs out of his eyes (kiss his tears) then turn around and get mad because I kiss the top of his head. Whatever.
And poor Andy? Michael disagreed with everything Andy said last night, no matter what Andy said.
But, here is the one that’s really driving me insane. Michael freaks as soon as he sees me coming with the medicine. “No, no, no!” he cries. He fights and thrashes against it. He spits it out and says “icky.” He acts like I’m poisoning him. Then, as soon as I’m done, what does he do? He rips the syringe out of my hand and starts sucking on it. Oh, what a little stinker.
I think tonight I may actually give Desi’s idea a try and hand over the syringe and see if Michael will give himself the medicine. What do I have to lose? My house is already destroyed. Why not?