Breastfeed your children - especially this flu season

Let's call it H1N1 day at the doudoubebe.com blog :). Here's La Leche League Canada's press release on breastfeeding and the swine flu.

My rockin' Saturday night

What's a weary parent to do?

With the new recommendations out from Health Canada on cold medicines for children under age 6 and then today from other researchers on the dangers of menthol in chest rubs for infants, you may be feeling like there’s nothing you can do to make your ill child feel better.
Here are some ideas that we like around here (they’ve been getting lots of use lately):

• Humidifier: while cool mist humidifiers are often recommended, I like the warm mist humidifiers better. Just be sure to air out the rooms well and be very careful to place the unit well aware from where it might be reached by little hands (it is boiling water).
• Honey: for babies over a year only, a teaspoon of honey has been shown to be to more effective than cough syrup. (Honey isn’t recommended for babies under a year because of the risk of botulism spores in the honey attacking their wee immune systems).
• Non-menthol chest balms: the trouble with Vicks and the like is primarily the menthol irritating the airways and causing an increase in thick mucous. This chest balm from Erbabviva contains no menthol, is all organic and is much milder on the skin.
  

Finally, hang in there – cold and flu season stinks, but it always ends. Try to look on the bright and think of all the extra cuddles you can get in now that your kids have been slowed down a bit.

Insult + Injury

I woke up this morning with a weird feeling I hadn't had since I was a kid - my eyes felt like they had sand in them and my left eye was so goopy it was almost sealed shut. (Hey, you don't want to hear this stuff, go read a blog about garden gnomes: mothering involves a lot of fluids),

Pink eye... ewww! And, of course, Thomas is still sick and so am I, so the thought of hauling both the children into the car to the drugstore and back is too much to bear. (Check out this great you tube video: so funny). My normal back-up plan (mum! dad!) has also been felled by this nasty cold.

So I heed a little of my own advice and take the plunge: I express a little breastmilk into a cup and use a dropper to put it in my eyes. (I told you... if you can't take it, find a gnome blogger)

And amazingly, it feels better right away. Like a lot better and it doesn't sting at all like the drops do. I've done it a couple times through the day and feel much better.

When Dan got home, he couldn't even tell, except that I made him listen to the various complaints I had after I brought him up to date on pending grievances from the children (the fish has no food and Isabelle would like to play in the (frozen poop-filled) backyard).

It's quite amazing to me that this really works for grown-up sized eye infections, but also I find it ironic that my breasts can make this amazing elixir and my eyes just can't deal with it themselves.

Snurffle, snurffle...

Ah, the spring cold.... an annual event 'round here where we don't do a lot of sickness (warnings about the onslaught pre-school would bring haven't panned out, yet). But the good news is that it's a spring cold and the tide is turning on all this snow.

It starts with a visit to the home of friends we affectionately call the Petri Dishes. Their home is warm and welcoming - and apparently, chock full of pathogens because a runny nose always follows a visit.

Then, Isabelle gets cranky and Thomas' eyes look just a touch red-rimmed. Then, just a trickle of clear mucous signals that the immune battle has begun. I've never really been big on giving little people medicine and the recent warnings about this have just underlined my institinctive feeling.

In fairness, pre-pregnancy and nursing, I was known to down copious quantities of the stuff. But I had to get to work and Isabelle doesn't need cold relief to watch Toopie & Binoo. Popsicles and honey have been doing just fine.

But the snot (like the plot) thickens and Thomas gifts me with an enormous wad of it when he sneezes out the blueberries I was handing him. As I wipe it off my cheek with my sleeve, it occurs to me that I have come a long way since our first cold... Maybe too long....

Day three and Isabelle gets ornery... I am not doing my best mothering. Treehouse TV is on a constant loop, the menu consist of apple slices, peanut butter and toast and the dog is looking at me with that "Dude, do you even remember that I need to be fed?". I want to just lie down, but there's no point.

It's time to call in the big guns... my mama. Mum shows up, changes the children into actual clothing (pjs have ruled) and waters, feeds and plays with them (and the dog, who loves her unconditionally and far more than he loves us: she feeds him). All while I sleep...

It will be better tomorrow... better be: we've got Easter eggs to make, a birthday to plan and school's back next week. Hmmm.... Mum always did great Easter eggs...

Croup

I realize that I am out of bed when my hand is already on her door knob – even though I don’t know what I heard, I know something is wrong. When I open the door, Isabelle is sitting on the bed, gasping for breath. Her eyes are wide and she is reaching for me.
My head knows what this is: the croup – a common childhood virus of sudden onset (she was fine when she went to bed) characterized by a seal-like barking cough. It is not serious usually, as it is easily treated with steam/cool air and rest.
But my heart breaks… I gather her up in my arms and rock her while the shower runs. When the steam doesn’t help in a few minutes, I find myself in my pyjamas, sitting on our wet front porch with her wrapped in a blanket in my arms.
She calms, but is still having difficulty breathing, so I send her to the ER with her dad (and mine for good measure…). The men are ill-prepared – several times the intake staff suggests that perhaps it would be best to call her mother.
The triage nurse barely needs to look at her – “it’s the croup”. This strengthens my husband’s unwavering, if entirely unfounded belief, that I know everything about children. He is proud of me and I am thankful for his faith. And we are all grateful when a chipper Isabelle returns with a tired Daddy and a deep sleep fall over us all.
p.s. Yay to the great staff at Sick Kids - we are so fortunate to have them.