The Fish Pond

Yet Another Way We're Lowering the Class Level of the Neighborhood

The past few days have brought more mild temperatures around here, so this afternoon I took advantage of the situation and sent the 3 big kids out to play in the yard with the stipulations that 1) they stay in our yard and 2) they stay out of the mud.  They had been running around the back of the house, up and down the steps of our deck, playing that the deck was a pirate ship.  At the same time, Nemo had fallen asleep in his bouncy seat in the family room, and I was on one of the many phone conversations I've had the past few days trying to address details associated with my grandfather's hospitalization, which currently has him pissed as all hell.

Trout appeared at the back door with hands that were covered in dirt (note stipulation #2) and went to wash her hands.  At about the same time Little Man appeared at the front door saying that Trout and Sunny had been playing in the mud WITH THE HOSE and he hadn't done anything, Mom, not a thing, just watched, but he hadn't done anything wrong.  I glared at Trout and ran to the front door.  The yard was a disaster, pools of water and mud interspersed with the gnarled tree roots of our cherry blossom, little muddy foot prints and dirt clods across our sidewalk and up the steps, an actual blob of sod in front of the door, and there, laying oh so neat and tidy, was Sunny's dress and her Dora underwear.  Sunny, however, was nowhere in sight.

I shouted to Little Man "Where is Sunny?!?" and I heard a sweet little giggle.  She was standing on the step in front of the decorative woodwork to the left of our front door completely stark naked, covered in mud from head to toe.

I simultaneously grabbed her and marched her toward the tub, yelled at Trout that she was grounded til Friday and told Little Man to get in the house.  Then I went in the bathroom by myself, flushed the toilet to mask the sound, and laughed my head off.

Dunno how I missed the sound of the hose.  I expect I'll be served with the "You Must Leave the Neighborhood Because You're Lowering Our Property Values" papers any day now.

Musings from the Emergency Department

Last night I had everything all planned out - I had a sitter, I was going to take Trout out to deliver the rest of these blasted Girl Scout cookies, Nemo seemed to be feeling better, and Little Man was at my in-laws' house for the weekend, and after the cookies were delivered I was going to have some writing time.  I was ready to walk out the door with Trout when the phone rang.

It was a nurse from my grandfather's retirement community.  He was having shortness of breath and they were taking him to the hospital.  So, since my uncle and aunt were out of town, I was on point as the closest one geographically, and the one with any decision making authority, so I packed up Nemo, since I didn't know how long I'd be, and off we went.

He was admitted to the hospital with high heart rate, and as of right now, the next night, they still don't know exactly what is wrong with him.  Or if they do they aren't telling him or any of the rest of us.  He's on the cardiac floor of the hospital, and this doesn't seem to be directly related to his cancer, though in a roundabout way it could be, i.e., he is receiving radiation for the cancer, radiation lowers his resistance and makes him more prone to infection, infection could cause the heart rate problems.  We don't know how long he is going to be there.  I had spent yesterday morning at my grandfather's house trying to gather materials to do his taxes - he has well over a dozen different investment accounts and my grandmother passed away at the end of January last year, plus he owns a farm, so his taxes are a migraine of aggravation.  He was fine when I left him around noon so I could pick up Little Man from school and he could go to his radiation appointment.

The Emergency Department was packed, so he had to wait quite late to get a room.  I bailed at 11:15 since I had the baby with me, but he said he didn't get his room until well after midnight; he arrived around 6 pm and I arrived about 7:30, thanks to lousy traffic.  So we had about four hours to spend together.

My grandfather has never been much of a deep conversationalist.  We would talk, he'd offer advice, that sort of thing, but never deep conversations about the meaning of life or, heaven forbid, feelings.  In the last 6 months or so I think my grandfather and I have talked on the phone more than all the other years of my life put together.  It has been a nice evolution in our relationship.

And last night, we talked.

He told me stories of his life.  He went to school in a one-room school house with no running water or electricity (think Little House on the Prairie), and he's lived to see satellites and cell phones and computers.  He talked about that.  He talked about his institutions of higher learning (it took five to get him through school due to the air force and WWII and moving around).  He talked about my grandmother, my uncle, my aunt, and best of all my mom.  He talked about when my uncle was born 3 months premature and how he and my grandmother almost died and how the doctor had told him he thought he could only save one of them (he saved them both).  He talked about the limits he placed on his employment so he could have a flexible schedule to be able to be involved in his kids' lives, like coaching little league and swimming.  He talked about where he was when he got the call that my mom had died.  He told me where on his computer he has all the files of all the writing he's done over the last few years - sermons, essays, and stories of his life.  He talked about how he's lived a full life, a good life, and he's ready if the Lord calls him.

He smiled and laughed and cooed at Nemo, and played with him the best he could seeing as how he can't hold him (Nemo's too heavy) and Nemo can't sit up.  He proudly told the nurse that Nemo is his tenth great grandchild (Trout is #1, Little Man is #4, Sunny is #7).

I will always be grateful for having that time with him, no matter what happens.  My cousin went up today to see him - I wanted to go up but he told me that "You did your duty yesterday - stay home and take care of your family."  I wanted to shout to him that he is my family, too, just as much as my kids and husband, but instead I delivered girl scout cookies and went to target and the grocery store and cooked dinner for my family and put the kids to bed.  Just as I think he wanted me to.

Every time I had to step out to make a phone call (because they're ALL long distance so I had to use my cell - why is it that everyone is always long distance from the hospital?  I've had this experience at 3 different "local" hospitals) I took Nemo with me because when I arrived the crash cart was right outside my grandfather's "room" in the ED and I had visions of my grandfather crashing while I was calling a relative to update them and the doctors and nurses rushing in to save my grandfather and flinging aside my sleeping baby in his stroller in the process.  The place was so packed people were lined up three deep in the hallways, so we passed a lot of people each time.  Not a single person didn't smile or comment on Nemo.  I hope he helped a very trying and stressful time weigh a bit lighter for those people - I know their smiles helped me.

I saw a young mother, probably in her early 20's, on a gurney with an oxygen mask strapped to her face being wheeled quickly toward a room.  The techs pushing her were mumbling something about asthma as they rushed down the hall, and a little girl about Sunny's age and an older woman trailed behind, clearly the patient's daugher and mother.  The little girl looked so frightened and the grandmother was telling her that Mommy was going to be fine and she just needed to get some medicine.  I couldn't help but wonder why the grandmother brought the little girl back instead of staying in the kids area in the waiting room - they have a lot of toys out there and it certainly would have been less frightening for a three year old.  If any of my relatives had been there in addition to me I would have offered to watch her in the waiting room until the worst of the crisis was over.  Instead I made my phone calls and went back to my grandfather's stories.

I don't know what the next few days, weeks, or months hold.  I am scared.  I hate seeing him suffer, the shadow of the vigorous man he used to be, unable to roll over in bed without help and without pain.  But part of me is selfish, wanting him to stay, for me.  I've always been close to him, always spending time with him, back as far as I can remember when he used to take me to People's Drug store when I was five to let me pick out a candy bar or a small toy every single time we went to see them.  Back to watching him and my uncle coaching a little league baseball team in my neighborhood when I was in junior high.  Back to when I would spend the night at their house throughout the years and he would always make cheese popcorn on the stove with a long-handled popcorn popper at night and make the best waffles in the world for breakfast (and I now know his secret ingredient - wheat germ).  Back to all the times he showed me his writings over the years to ask me to "fix 'em up for me" because his grammar wasn't what he wanted it to be.  Back to the times he layed on the floor with my babies and played with them, giving them elevator rides and wrestling with them the same he did with me.  In addition to my relationship with him in its own right, he's all I have left of my mother.  I have no idea how I'm going to cope with his passing; I know it won't be pretty.

If you are so inclined, please say a prayer for both of us, that he doesn't suffer and that I don't lose it.

Be Still, My Frazzled Nerves

Today Nemo is four months old.  He had his checkup this morning with the requisite weighing, measuring, poking, prodding, and vaccinations.  He is a big boy - this we knew - 16 pounds here at 4 months; Trout was only 16.5 pounds at her ONE YEAR checkup.  He was pronounced perfectly healthy, we were given advice on introducing solids (which we'll do probably tomorrow - we get to jump right to 2 meals a day), and sent home with four vaccinations, two in each chunky thigh.  He did fine with them there, screamed a little bit but settled right down, his cries of indignation quickly abandoned for the comfort of my breast.  Five minutes later, we were on our way.

After a bunch of errand running, including picking up Little Man and Sunny from the sitter, we returned home for another round of nursing and a nap (for both of us).  He was grumpy and out of sorts, but nothing unexpected considering he'd gotten his shots, and he settled down for his nap fairly easily.  Trout arrived home at about 3:20, and that's when all fucking hell broke loose.

Nemo woke up and started to scream.  And scream.  And scream. 

I tried nursing.  Diaper changing.  Bouncy seat.  Vibrator on.  Vibrator off.  Music on.  Music off.  Rocking.  Bouncing.  Jiggling.  Back rubbing.  Holding upright.  Lying on back.   Lying on tummy.  Butt patting.  Gymini gym.  Swing.  Swing stationary.  Swing slow.  Swing fast. 

Nothing worked.

I tried crying.  I tried screaming.  I tried going to the bathroom. 

Nothing worked.

I gave him his Tylenol dose, and waited.  And waited.  And waited.  And still the screaming.

Actually, more like a high pitched piercing shriek.

I called my husband.  I couldn't hear a thing he said, even with the phone mashed into my ear.

I called the pediatrician, because something in the back of my hopped up brain said "Uncontrollable screaming!  Vaccine reaction!  Call Ped immediately!"  So I did.  They recommended cold compresses on the vaccination site because one of his legs was a little warm to the touch.  They also said it could take up to an hour for the Tylenol to take effect.

So we walked.  And paced.  And bounced.  And jiggled.  And cooled.

He finally ran out of steam enough to nurse, after an hour.  One hour straight of screaming like I'd never heard before.  He fell asleep.

It took another hour for my hands to stop shaking enough to type this.

They say God only sends you what you can handle.  I now know why none of my kids has had colic.  You parents that have dealt with that - the good Lord have mercy upon you.

Margarita, anyone?

BurpCatcher: Making Laundry a Bit Lighter

Nemo has reflux, and one of the first things you learn as the parent of a baby with reflux is that just when you thought you might be able to stay on top on the laundry and still get something else in the house done, you find yourself with a "laundry problem," as one of my children's pediatricians so aptly put it, of monumental proportions.  Literally.  We have a mound of laundry in our basement around the machines high enough that the kids jump in it as though it were a pile of freshly raked leaves.  But unlike leaves, there is a great chance of the kids sliding some body part through a smudge of the slimy goo ejected from Nemo's body as we wait for his system to mature enough to hold it in, eliciting squeals and shrieks of "Gross!" and "aw, Mom".  The Puke.

Nemo is a champion puker.  He eats, he barfs.  And when he barfs, he barfs in dramatic fashion, covering himself, whoever is holding him, wherever he is sitting or laying, a good amount of upholstery and carpet, and an even larger amount of bedding.  I've always used cloth diaper liners as burp cloths, but invariably also need a towel underneath as the diaper liners don't quite absorb the spew right away and it runs down the liner onto the clothes underneath.

I absolutely cracked up when I discovered that the product the Parent Bloggers Network sent me to review was the BurpCatcher.  How appropriate that we got that one? It's one of those products that you look at and say "You know, I could've thought of that," it's so obvious, but you didn't, so you shake yourself soundly and be happy someone else did, because now you get to benefit without those messy patent negotiations and production schedules that keep you up at night.  It's simply a soft cloth diaper with a pocket at one end that hangs open to catch the puke.  It comes in fleece or flannel, and we reviewed the flannel version, which comes 2 to a package for $10.

The first thing we noticed is that they're SOFT.  Like, soft like the skin on your baby's belly, soft.  The older kids kept rubbing them against their own faces, and no matter how much we wiped Nemo's face with them it didn't get irritated, which sometimes happened with our regular cloth diapers.  And these suckers are absorbent.  With cloth diapers I typically have to double or triple up on them for a really big emission, but I only needed one with the BurpCatcher.  The barf stays on the BurpCatcher and doesn't get on your clothes.

As soft and absorbent as it is, though, I had 2 issues with the BurpCatcher.  The first is that Nemo takes medicine for reflux that is suspended in a chocolate syrup.  This means that sometimes his puke resembles the original product that cloth diapers were designed to handle.  Because the BurpCatcher is white, ours got stained with little brown stains relatively quickly, and because of the trim on the BurpCatcher, it can't be bleached.  A completely white option with no trim would be a welcome addition to the product line.  The second issue is that with a child with reflux, you can't always predict with any reliability what direction the spew is going to head - over the shoulder or down your front between the baby and you, over your arm or between the baby and the arm, you get the idea (my favorite is down the front of my shirt and bra).  I think I'm going to try sewing my BurpCatchers together end-to-end, so there is a pocket on each end, so I'm covered no matter which way the puke flies and my cups won't runneth over.  At least not with puke.  But really, these are minor issues, and if you have a normal baby with a normal amount of spit and they don't take a strangely colored medicine, the product as is should be fine.  Either way, our BurpCatchers will stay in our diaper bag, and I will be buying more of them, for myself, for shower gifts, for my big kids to use as loveys, to make small animals out of them...sorry, got carried away there for a minute.  Bottom line - get these, do less laundry.  Who could argue with that?

Neither of my two guessers got it right, so if you're interested in winning a BurpCatcher and you are not Angi or Elizabeth (who will be automatically entered), post a comment to this post and I'll do a random drawing on Friday.

Reason #376 Why I'm No Good At This Mom Gig

Updated below!

Remember when Nemo started taking the prilosec compound, and the pharmacist and the doctor both stressed to me how much it needed to be refrigerated?  And has to be shaken like hell every time?  And make sure you keep it in the refrigerator?  And here's an ice pack to get it home so it will still be cold?

I just went up to put the bigs to bed and found....the prilosec sitting on my dresser, where it has been since he had his dose at 10am.  I'm so scared he's going to have a horrible night.

Guess we get to find out if he still needs it or not.  I'll be calling the pharmacy first thing in the morning.

Family and friends call it "Baby Sucking Brain Drain."  Guess it gets worse with each kid you have.

Poor little baby.

Update:  I called the pharmacy this morning - it is fine since it wasn't over 24 hours.  It won't make him sick, it just breaks down a little faster than it would normally, and since he has his checkup on thursday and they are probably going to change his dose, I don't care if it breaks down quicker.  I considered calling last night, but since his condition is not urgent, just annoying to both of us, we just rode it out.  He woke up twice in the night to nurse, but otherwise he's doing fine.

Fishfamily, 2; Rodents, ??

We live on the edge of a forest and lake, which a lot of times is a really great thing; it's peaceful, it's quiet (at least, quiet for a townhouse development), a lot of our neighbors are wildlife (and that doesn't count my new young, hip neighbors and their outdoor hot tub parties when the wind-chill hits 20), and when it snows, this is our view out of our slider to our deck:

Purty, isn't it? If I had walked out to the edge of the deck and looked down, you would have seen the lake, but I had my slippers on and was not interested in getting snow all over them, so I stayed in.  When there is foliage on the trees, you can't see the lake, but it looks lovely all frozen and snow covered in the winter months.  So, really pretty, and a nice place to live, for the burbs.

But!  Every time it gets cold, we get visitors in our house of the four-footed variety, mostly mice, but we did have one rat a couple of years ago.  The rat creeped me out horribly, and we had some rat traps that weren't working.  We even had a dog, but he didn't seem bothered by the damn rat, and I didn't know what to do with it.  My father kept telling me to bait a trap with raw bacon and it would take care of the problem; I thought he was crazy and so continued to try the peanut butter bait.  It took him two weeks of telling me to use the bacon before we broke down and tried it; we baited the trap and went up to bed.  Not 30 minutes later we heard a commotion down in the kitchen - problem solved.  So if you ever have a rat problem, try raw bacon in a standard snap trap - works like gold.

Anyway, last week I noticed the telltale signs of a new visitor to our abode.  We keep our food in a lower cabinet, and due to previous years' run ins with the things, I keep everything that isn't in cans or jars in plastic tupperware Modular Mates.  This has served us in good stead, as these are real thick plastic that can't be eaten through easily.  A few nights ago as I sat here blogging I heard what sounded like something eating plastic -- sure enough, I found teeth marks around the tops of some of my containers as well as on the labels to the peanut butter jars (I guess paper is a reasonable substitute for food), and mouse droppings in the cabinet.  This creeps me out, so I pulled everything out, scoured it all in bleach, and pulled out an old trap and set it.  I like these traps because they are easy to bait and set, there is no poison involved, and the less I have to LOOK at the dead rodent, the better, much less touch it.  Again, within 30 minutes, success.  I opened the cabinet, and saw what looked like a huge mouse with a super long pointy tail, shrieked, slammed the cabinet, and retrieved BigDaddyFish, who I married in part so I wouldn't have to deal with dead rodents in my cabinets.  We frankly think the thing looked like a mouse/rat hybrid, but since this isn't very likely, it was probably a small rat.  Shudder.

I set another trap, my last one, locked the cabinet and left a sign to the kids not to open the cabinet, put the baby gate up in the kitchen doorway (is it really called a doorway if there's no door?), and went to bed.  Morning brought more success, this time an obvious mouse.  But now we were out of traps.

I went to the hair salon to get a "hip" new haircut (more about that later) and then to the grocery store for more traps.  They were out.  Then hit the Home Despot for some - they didn't have them, either.  So I bought a couple of other traps, one being an electronic one that zaps them dead.  Haven't tried that one yet, as you have to empty the trap and rebait it and frankly, that's just more contact with the damn things than either BDF or I would like.  So I may just order some more of my favorite traps that work like a dream and use those.

This would be so much easier if I wasn't highly allergic to cats.  But since I like breathing, what are your favorite ways to rid your household of unwanted four-footed visitors without poison and with minimal human/carcass interaction?

Impecunious

I just got a $450+ gas bill in the mail for last month.  After I recovered from the stroke I had after I opened it, I realized Sunny's birthday is in a few weeks and she needs a party, albeit small and cheap one, and we just dropped a chunk larger than the gas bill for new clothes for Little Man and BigDaddyFish this past weekend (yes, all needed - , Little Man keeps growing and we have no handmedowns for him and BDF keeps wearing out his clothes, dammit).  BDF had to take LWOP for the time after Sunny's birth because we don't have anyone around who could help and his company has less than generous leave, and we haven't yet recovered from the bills associated with the birth and that time yet.  Not to mention that we have to move to a bigger house sometime in the near future.

I had a bunch of stuff in here asking for advice about being a freelancer, but I deleted it because I decided it was tacky.  Sorry if I offended anyone.

Sigh.