Parenthetical Me

Five years ago I was living utterly alone in Chicago – no friends, coworkers lived an hour away, no family. I came down with the worst case of food poisoning I’ve ever had and had to take care of myself for the first time. “Missy, what are you DOING?” boomed the door man as I shuffled pathetically across the building’s lobby in my pajamas.

“Need soup… Convenience store…” I mumbled.

He sent me back to bed, grabbed a couple of cans of soup from the store conveniently located on the ground floor of my building, and dropped them off at my apartment, where I’d been laying on the floor just inside the door so I wouldn’t have to summon the energy to get up to answer it when he arrived.

Lessons learned: even when you think you are utterly alone, you are not. Also: be prepared, for heaven’s sake.

So, let’s talk about an Emergency Room bag.

Oh, you don’t have one? Neither did I, and then my infant’s normal respiratory virus turned into too-fast breathing and a trip to the UT Children’s Hospital ER… which turned into a four day inpatient stay.

[Update: my kiddo is completely fine, save for a daily breathing treatment that is probably quite optional at this point, and a newfound ability to whine like it’s his job. He is a star at that job. Way to go, child o’ mine. If you’re going to do it, do it really well!]

So to turn this experience into something of a lesson learned for the future, I thought I’d share what I will now be packing in our “just in case” bag.

First, stuff for mama (because when the time comes, you’ll not be thinking about yourself, then you’ll find yourself about to eat your own hand because you’ve been there for five hours longer than you thought and haven’t eaten anything all day):

• Protein bars. They last forever and will give you what you need in a pinch: something that will keep you functioning and can be eaten with one hand while trying valiantly to soothe your crying, miserable baby with the rest of your body.
• Extra clothes (specifically, tank tops and clean undies). I was thoughtful enough to change clothes when I decided to head to the ER and chose a great outfit: two tank tops (take the top one off if you get puked on or find yourself on day two in the same clothes) with a mama sweater (long, comfy, with extra flaps to double as a blanket or puke cloth in a pinch) and jeans. Next time, I’d probably go straight for the gray yoga pants.
• A notebook and pen. I recommend this to family members of hospitalized people all the time: write everything down. Note the date at the top of the page, time for each entry, and to whom you were speaking. It will come in handy when you insist that if your baby’s IV has to be redone, you NEED LOIS THE PHLEBOTOMIST WHO STARTS HER NEXT SHIFT IN ONE HOUR. (After three very horrible and nightmare-inducing attempts to get an IV into my little dude’s pudgy arms, legs and head, the nurses got one in the top of a foot but couldn’t pull enough blood for labs. Lois from Lab came in, did one poke and was all done before we had time to brace ourselves. This is the stuff you write down: Lois from Lab is a bad ass.)
• Hair ties.
• Extra socks.
• A travel blanket/ pillow thing.
• Kleenex. The good kind.
• Chapstick.
• Face lotion. You can wash makeup and tears and germs off with regular soap but then you have to walk around with too-tight skin.
• A spare phone charger.
• Change. You can survive a surprising number of days on vending machine replenishments.
• Coffee packets (yes, like Starbucks Via) and pain killer for the grown-ups. You might be surprised at how you react to having your kid all monitored up and in a hospital bed while crying miserably and in pain. I am a champ in an emergency, but once things were under control, I just felt so bad. Nothing like a crying jag to give you a head ache, ya know?

Next, for baby. We live about 15 minutes from the hospital – and there were two of us available – so we made multiple trips home for stuff, but I’d rather prepare for a situation when one of us has to get through it all alone.

• My own brand (and flavor) of pain killer. After too many hours of having things shoved in him against his will, my kid rebelled against the bright pink too-sweet Tylenol, just the thing he needed to help him with the aches and pains of ER testing and traumatizing. After a quick run home, we confirmed that he was willing to take the grape stuff we usually use, a big win when everything else was so horrible for him. I know, yes, we could have forced the pink stuff down him (and did, once), but if we can avoid that, we will.
• A day’s worth of diapers. We ultimately used the hospital-provided Huggies after we were admitted (they know what they weigh so measuring his urine output is easier) but it was nice to have him in his usual stuff as much as possible in the ER.
• Our own wipes. Some wipes make his face and hands break out in hives (luckily, never his booty) so it’s just better to have our own around.
• Yeast infection cream. Our ped recommends Lotrimin, and while I did finally get it through the hospital, it took a call to the on-call doc and some waiting time when I could have just pulled it out of my diaper bag (if I’d thought to pack it). Good gawd, yeast grows fast when a six-month old is given a bomb-sized dose of antibiotics. Yuck.
• OUR OWN FORMULA. They had our brand of formula but it came premixed and Jav was totally against it. Yes, we could have forced him, but why?
• A wash cloth and mini bottle of baby wash. By day two, I convinced a nice (night-shift – they’re always the ones willing to fudge the rules a little) nurse to let him off the pulse ox monitor for 15 minutes so I could bathe the stinker.
• Dish soap. After just a day in the hospital, all of the toys we brought and every single bottle just felt yucky. I ended up soaking them all in the tub with super hot water and some of Javi’s body soap, but a tiny bottle of dish soap would have been better.
• Disinfectable toys. Lots of them. If you are against toys that use batteries, this is the time to drop that goal and buy one or two to throw in the bad. After a few hours with a miserable kid, you will be willing to throw out every principle you’ve ever held to make things a little better for him.

Okay, that’s long enough for now. I’ll do another post with tips and tricks gleaned from years working in hospitals (I’m IT, not clinical, but you learn things) and an ER nurse oldest best friend.

This is my sweet, good, awesomest toughest baby after hours of misery, finding a break to smile just for his mama:

First time sick, a week shy of six months.

Javi is the proud owner of two sharp little teeths. One popped this weekend, the other today.

“I try to raise them the same way I was raised, just in a bigger house.” – Jennifer Lopez on The Today Show

I think a lot about what I’m teaching my son when it comes to money and opportunities and “stuff.” Correction: I think a lot about what I will be teaching my son. He’s young enough still that what he learns from  us is more along the lines of drinking from a coffee cup than that whether we drink premium coffee, thank goodness. We still have time to think.

Side note: I used to read blog posts by parents that sounded like this one and wonder where they learned what to think about? Did they get some sort of class I missed that gave them a list of things to keep in mind while parenting? Then I had a child (and got past the first four months where there’s little time for thought) and suddenly I was thinking the same way. If you’re wondering where this comes from, it just pops up one day and then you think about it every hour of every day.

My husband and I talk about how to raise our son so that he isn’t a douche like many of our childhood friends whose parents had more money than ours. For both of us, from lack came focus, from hardship came a sense of responsibility.

Should we be causing some sort of lack, then, so that our son gets the same kind of focus? Barring an unforeseen hardship, how do we instill that sense of responsibility? Having come from a different kind of childhood than he’ll have, financially at least (knock on wood), we will have to teach ourselves rather than follow the example of our upbringing.

We have so many ideas, most of which I’ll share in various blog posts as we figure them out a little better, but the quote from Jennifer Lopez this morning was one I’ll be thinking about.

I like used stuff. Not only are the prices far lower than for new, clothes are pleasantly broken in, lenses and carefully repackaged in their boxes, and good buys retain their resale value. Since before Jav was born, I’ve been buying things second hand.

We found a kids consignment store just up the street, and while it’s more “permanent yard sale” than “lovely vintage store,” if we’re picky we find good stuff. After much pressure from my hubby to do something (other than trip over) the paraphernalia we no longer use, I decided to trade it for a Rainforest Jumper.

My son loves the doorway jumper my mom bought him for Christmas, but since we have no door frames in the living area, we wanted a jumper that could stand on the floor. And because I hate the thought of paying full price for a plastic contraption that my son will use for a few months, buying one used seemed smart.

Then I got it home. I was in a hurry when I ran in to make the trade, with a cell phone in my ear as I tried to simultaneously unload my car and pay attention to a conference call so with a few awkward hand signals and an apology to the shop owner, I was in and out without looking too closely.

This thing was disgusting. Dirty plastic I can handle, but when I took the metal frame apart, bugs fell out. Thank goodness they were dead, but still…. Ew. I freaked and dumped the whole thing in the tub, then took every last piece apart, including those held together by screws.

~~~

Apparently I published accidentally, so consider this part II.

My first thought was, “This is effing disgusting. I can afford better. No more used toys, ever.”

That was my second thought too. Quite frankly, that thought didn’t leave my head for two hours while I soaked the gross thing in scalding hot water and one of various household cleaners in turn. I filled the tub three times, using first a green cleaner, then Ajax, then bleach. {I’ll get back to the actual toy in a second.}

Three hours later, I started to feel bad.

First I felt bad for moms who couldn’t afford the new toy. Taking a toy from disgusting to usable is a lot of work! I scrubbed with steel wool, Mr. Clean Magic Erasers, a scrub brush, and a toothbrush. I stuck my hands in too-hot water, got icky rinse water all over my arms, and killed my back bending over the tub to scrub. It felt good to soak off all the gross stickers, but then I wondered if the toy would be as fun without all the sticky bling.

Then I felt bad for being so douchy about cost. Since I was a child and very aware that my parents couldn’t afford everything my well-off friends had, I’ve understood money to mean freedom. With more money comes more choices, and I’m all about choices.

But what about responsibility, if not to the environment, but to those who can’t afford better? And when it comes down to it, is my purchase of a used toy good in the same way buying organic is, or am I taking someone else’s opportunity for a Rainforest Bouncer at half price?

So many questions to ponder. By the time I stopped being disgusted long enough to think (and call the store to complain), I’d taken the whole darned thing apart and wasn’t going to put it back together (in cleaner condition, no less) just so they could sell it for more.

In the end, the thing got (beautifully) clean and is probably the cleanest toy in the house. The hot water soak got rid of the bugs from every nook and cranny, the Ajax and bleach took care of any germs and mold spots (seriously, ew) and the TWO subsequent soaks with regular soap got rid of the bleach and Ajax residue. The last (and sixth, if you’re counting) rinse made sure all of the chemicals were really gone.

I put it all back together and my kid loved it (thank goodness, or I’d have gone through all that existential crisis for nada), but the questions still linger. What is my responsibility to society and the earth in terms of the plastic crap kids love and I’m not against? What’s the best way to “do” secondhand – buying directly from people via Craigslist is now my preferred method, but I don’t think I’ll always stay away from secondhand stores? And how big a douche am I for immediately jumping to the “I don’t have to put up with this HeresMoreMoneyMakeItGoAway”?

Let me explain: yesterday my son thunked his head on the floor while sitting up and reeeeeeaaaaaching for a toy. Note: he was on blankets and barely tapped the floor with his head, in slow motion, but his feelings were hurt.

While holding him and making the appropriate, "Ohh, oh, ohhhh, baby!" sounds, I realized we need a song. When he gets the inevitable ouchies, I can snuggle him and smooch him until we’re finished singing the song, then say, "Yay, you’re all better!"

So I needed to pick a song. I liked "You Are My Sunshine," but I’m didn’t think I wanted that to be the ouchie song. We already sang the ABC’s when I needed him to calm down or settle into sleep. My vocal range is tiny and I can’t carry a tune, so simple but not totally annoying when it gets stuck in my head would be awesome.

Then one of my friends suggested this awesomeness:

‎"If you fall and get a boo boo sing a song

If you have a little ouchie sing along

Let me wipe away your tears and kiss away your fears

No more crying ’cause the hurting is all gone”

(sung to the tune of “If You’re Happy And You Know It”)

I modified it a bit and am practicing it today. I’m not saying I want Javi to get an ouchie, but I am looking forward to having an ouchie song!

‎"If you fall and get a boo boo sing a song

If you have a little ouchie sing along

Let me tickle away your tears and then I’ll smooch away the smears

No more crying ’cause the hurting is all gone!”

I have always been curious about how people live their lives, even more so now that I am a parent and thus constantly looking for ways to get through, if not necessarily improve. For the next few weeks – or until I get tired of it – I’ll be sharing (way too many) details about our life with a kid.

Javi is just shy of six months old.

For the past few months, we’ve been in a pretty solid every-three-ish-hours formula routine. Javi eats Enfamil Gentlease formula, and though it’s expensive, attempts at switching him to two generic versions were deemed a total failure. The Sam’s Club version got him all hopped up like he was on a sugar high; the Target version caused fountains of spit-up. So, we order it from Amazon and don’t mind the cost. Hell, we pay for premium dog food, right? We switched to Gentlease during that period when your eight-week old infant is fussy and you have no idea why so you try everything to just FIX IT. He would probably do fine on regular infant formula now, but we’re far too chicken to mess up a good thing by trying to switch, and his pediatrician says we gain nothing by doing it, so why bother?

Our parenting mantra: keep doing it while it works, and when it stops working, do something different.

We now use Dr. Brown’s bottles in the 8 ounce size after trying Breastflow and Avent, and finally realizing why everyone else puts up with the little pieces that make up a Dr. Brown system. They work. We have a cheap generic dishwasher basket for all the parts except the nipples; those stand up in a little basket that came with our dishwasher. I don’t know what it’s intent was, but it’s perfect for holding them upright so they get really clean.

So, the three hour schedule: I can’t take credit for it. We were feeding him really often (REALLY often) before we started day care at 10 weeks, and within two to three weeks he was on an every three hours-ish schedule. I’m certain some crying and fussing was involved in getting him there, but it’s been good for him to go longer than an hour without eating (we were such suckers) and we avoided crying and fussing (literally, I would cry when he would cry back then).

He wakes up between 6 and 7 in the morning and gets one bottle with an extra ounce of apple juice for digestive reasons. Around 9-ish he gets another, then he eats the next two at day care (say, noon-ish and three-ish), then a final bottle at or around bedtime. If he’s hungry before bedtime and it’s clear he’s not also tired, we’ll give him a bottle early and then just a few extra ounces during our bedtime routine.

He eats around 6 ounces of formula at a time. During growth spurts, he’ll suck them dry, taking in somewhere around 30 ounces in a day. Once that passes, he’ll leave an ounce in every bottle for a while, bringing the total down to 25-ish ounces.

We started flirting with solid-ish foods after his four month pediatrician visit, mostly for fun until very recently when he made it clear to us that it was time to take this thing to the next level. (He did this by being really disinterested in his bottles for a few days.) By this point he’d had sweet potatoes, butternut squash, and pears, all roasted and smushed by me because I’d rather do that than go to the store when I get a whim to feed my kid smushy food.

(It’s so easy. Cut the suckers in half and lay them cut side down on foil or in a pan, then roast at 350 until they’re soft and smushy. Mash them with a fork or run them through a cheapo $8 manual food mill, add a little apple juice to get to the right consistency, and freeze in little dollops. I add spices too because that’s fun, cinnamon to sweet potatoes and ginger to pears. When you’re ready to use one, pop a frozen dollop in a bowl and defrost, then add cereal and formula to get the consistency right again. It’s pretty tasty.)

Because we’re pretty easy-going, his day care peeps tried oatmeal cereal with him one day and then mixed grains with sweet potatoes and apples another. The first got an “eh” response; the second got “ohmygod this stuff is great!” in baby terms. Technically the mixed grains are a “level three” cereal, but nothing went wrong and he likes it, so I’ve kept feeding it to him.

I let him try to feed himself if he wants, with a spoon or his hands or (in a particularly funny moment today) by dipping his face into the bowl like a puppy. Why not? Worst case, he gags a bit, then is more careful with the spoon next time, or snorts sweet potatoes and then laughs. And while we do own baby spoons, he chews on them and thus they are never to be found when needed for their actual purpose, so we use real spoons. At day care they use full-sized disposable plastic spoons.

Once the bottle disinterest happened, it was time to have an actual plan lest he start trading fun food for the nutritional benefit of formula, so as of yesterday, he gets the first bottle as per usual, the second bottle is 4 oz followed by a mix of cereal and something I’ve smushed with some formula added, then he gets the third and fourth bottles at day care, and the final bottle at bedtime. I’ve managed to quell the urges I have to spike his formula with spices for variety for now.

I’m choosing to feed him the smushy stuff at home, not at day care, because a) then I have some control over making sure he gets formula first and then food and b) I can never find containers I can send food to day care in and c) it’s fun and I want to keep the fun stuff here, thankyouverymuch. Plus, he makes a mess while in his pj’s, which I fully support, and I just wipe him down and change him before sending him in a cute outfit that’ll stay somewhat clean until he comes home (or pees on it).

I’m guessing we’ll keep doing this one-food-a-day thing until he tells us he’s ready for more, then we’ll add a second meal…? We’ll see.

I have always been curious about how people live their lives, even more so now that I am a parent and thus constantly looking for ways to get through, if not necessarily improve. For the next few weeks – or until I get tired of it – I’ll be sharing (way too many) details about our life with a kid.

Jav is just shy of six months old. I’ll start by sharing our current “routine,” (if one can call anything with a baby a routine without it immediately changing just for funsies) and then I’ll note what life was like when he was younger.

I always wondered how people negotiated baby sharing between mom and dad. We’ve been formula feeding for a long time, so we have more opportunity for an equal share, but like many couples, we tend to adjust based on our natural talents.

I’m Snuggle Mom, so I do most of the overnight shifts. (Funny story: if you asked my husband, he’d swear we split them equally. He is wrong. On average, he’ll do one or two nights a week but they are apparently SO EXHAUSTING that they feel like four or five days.) Barring the four weeks or so when he was in Four Month Sleep Regression Hell, he wakes up maybe once and goes right back to sleep if I help him find his pacifier. Around 5:30, I can hear him babbling and fussing* but I ignore him until after 6 on principle, then we get up and he gets his first bottle of the day. Depending on how generous I’m feeling, I’ll feed him and lay him back down for snoozing, or I’ll wake Joey up and let him deal.

I’ll cover feeding later, but note that we put one ounce of 100% apple juice in his morning bottle for digestive reasons.

My husband is Fun Dad, so early mornings are a good time for he and Javi. They dance to 80’s music, play silly games involving bouncing and jumping and fake horse rides, and talk up a storm while I grab an hour or two of sleep. I’ll share more about our mornings in another post.

For me, one of the more challenging aspects of being a good partner has been identifying what I’m feeling before I blow my top, and “resentful” is one I pay special attention to. Sometimes I’ll notice I’m inexplicably angry at Joey, other times it starts as envy or jealousy, but regardless of the clue, if resentment is the cause, it’s time for him to do an overnight shift or two.

Why don’t we share them more equally? Because equal and equitable are not the same thing. I am better at feeding Jav and getting him back to sleep. Joey is way more fun in the mornings. And, truth be told, when Joey does night shift, I wake up to an overtired Jav and Daddy watching TV at 5 am. I try to stay out of his parenting, stick to gratitude for the uninterrupted sleep, and keep my comments to myself… then pick up my grumpy baby, tell him it’s time for a nap and put him in his crib to snooze. He seems grateful too.

Hmmm, what other details would you care about? When he fusses at night, I do not take him out of his crib unless he’s clearly uncomfortable for some reason or has leaked all over his bed. Wardrobe change! I will help him find his pacifier if he’s rooting around. He can and does fall sleep without it, but sometimes it just helps us all get back to sleep sooner. I didn’t DO anything to create this situation, just let him tell me if he needs it or not.

I do not generally bring him to bed with me. (If I do, we go to the guest room.) This is less about my preferences or principles and more that my son is my husband’s child, and neither like to be touched while sleeping. Cue mama’s snuggly heart wailing, ha. Inevitably, “co-sleeping” with my kid ends up with me clinging to one side of the bed while he’s starfished across most of it, grunting in annoyance if I touch him. We did this for those four weeks around four months because he was waking so often it kept me from stumbling across the hall every hour, but even then he slept better in his crib.

I do not feed him unless he’s clearly hungry. My kid is a fantastic communicator (thanks, Jav): if he’s hungry, he smacks his lips and cries this pathetic heart-is-broken cry with an upside down smile.

Oh, right, one last thing: he sleeps in footie pajamas and a sleep sack, with a radiant heater in his room set to 68-ish, white noise machine going all night (rain + wind + heartbeat), with one blanket for snuggling, a small quilt folded over his lower half, and a stuffed animal all in his crib.

I know, I know, bad sleeping stuff going on there. The stuffed animal is big and heavy so he can’t throw it around his crib; it stays between him and the bars and he pushes his face into it when he needs more darkness. (“Thin-lidded,” they call him at day care.) The snuggle blanket is on the other side, under his arm, and he rubs his fingers along the flannel as he’s falling asleep. His lower half lays on top of one half of the quilt with the other half folded over up to his waist. If it’s chilly, he leaves it. If he gets hot, he kicks it off.

What did I miss that inquiring minds want to know?

~~~

*This is the fourth or fifth post I’ve published with an asterisk that I never explained later. Annoying! I used to struggle to identify “fussing” when my baby was younger, so this is my attempt at clarifying what I’ve learned so far. What I call fussing in my child is not any of the following sounds:

“Aaaaaa-aaaaaaaaa-aaaaaaaah.” {tired crying, if he’s not settled in five or ten minutes, he needs help – a pat on the belly, a hug, a snuggle}

“Waaaaa! Waaaaaa!” {needs something, usually because he’s covered in pee}

“Uhuhuhuhuhuh.” {trying to fall asleep, generally resolves it himself}

“Blahblahblahblah.” {awake! hello! sleepy time is over}

“Eeeeeeeee!” {party. time. *crap*}

Fussing is more like: “uuuuh. uuuuuh. uuuuuuh” and warrants some form of aid, like a pacifier or pat on the belly.

I will close this contest Friday, January 27, 2012 at 5pm EST.

Though I decided not to even attempt the popular Monthly Baby Photos given my lack of consistency in all things, I do take a fair number of photos of my kiddo. I mean, the dude is cute!

But adding to the list of Things I Wish I Did Better is getting photos off my phone or camera onto some form of display. Problem is that framing photos takes so many decisions, and I reserve my limited decision-making capacity for more important things like which new baby gadget we should buy.

Cue Easy Canvas Prints.

Canvases can be hung on a simple nail, don’t require decisions other than size, and are safe if they fall off the wall – no glass to shatter. They can be propped up on a mantel or table and somehow just aren’t as “precious” as an expensive frame while still being presentable.

Someday, perhaps when I find a well of consistency hidden deep within, I’ll create a photo wall of canvases. In the meantime, perhaps I can manage to just pick one a month.

~~~
Want one for yourself? Leave a comment telling me how you bring your digital photos to real life. Photo books? Print and frame? Something even more awesome?

Sorry, this giveaway is only for U.S. residents excluding Alaska and Hawaii due to shipping costs. Also, you get 50% off & free shipping on your next order by clicking the LIKE button on their Facebook page: Easy Canvas Prints.

I have always been curious about how people live their lives, even more so now that I am a parent and thus constantly looking for ways to get through, if not improve. For the next few weeks – or until I get tired of it – I’ll be sharing (way too many) details about our life with a kid.

Jav is just shy of six months old.

Though we keep trying to push his bedtime back (and then remembering how miserable a tired baby is), we generally get him to bed between 6:30 and 7:30 pm. Every so often he’s falling apart so badly* that we get him to bed at 6; periodically he is in such a good mood that he’s in bed at 7:45. I cannot remember the last time we pushed it to 8 pm and didn’t suffer terribly for it.

So, bedtime. We’re surprisingly consistent with the bedtime routine, an unusual thing for both Joey and I, but we chalk this one up to straight up fear: mess with it a little, and you get it back in spades.

1. Pre-bath we turn the lights down in the nursery, kick on the white noise, and click on the heater. We make the bottle at this point, too.
2. Javi always gets a bath or shower — some form of water-dousing — before bedtime. Twice in the past six months we’ve skipped it; no bueno. I posted in detail about our bath strategy before so I’ll skip it here.
3. Still wrapped in a towel, we head to Jav’s room and