Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Monday, April 27, 2009
so here's the scoop
It all started on Easter Sunday. Or the night before. Because that night? Sucked. Actually it SUCKED!!!!! But it's like, a month later, almost, so I'm over it. Mostly.
Anyway. Sweets woke up with a bazillion pus-filled blisters on his pelvis. Well, maybe not a bazillion, but when yo' babeh has teh nastys on his parts? It's a bazillion. Also, I had a little fever. Just weird. Not I'm just weird, the fever was just weird.
We went to visit our friend the doctor the next day, and she thought Sweets had thrush. Except, here's the thing, I said, I don't have thrush. Because I know when I have thrush. So she prescribed some Nystatin-esque cream to rub into his parts. And that stuff? Did not work. Unless the idea was to increase the number of blisters, because those guys were fruitful and multiplied. Not unlike the Duggars. Except the Duggars are not blisters. Moving on.
Friday morning of that week, Sweets woke up with a Fever. It was a capital-F fever, 101 degrees. I busted out the infants' Tylenol-ish product we have, and despite its claim to be for infants, it only has dosing directions for infants who weigh over 24 pounds. Thanks, Tylenol! You're super useful in feverish situations. So naturally, being the conscientious parent I am, I called the doctor to find out how 'zactly much Tylenol I should give the babeh.
At which time, the doctor promptly flipped her gourd (for very good reason, honestly) and demanded that we come to the office IMMEDIATELY. So I packed up all the short people and hit Burger King (sorry, That Girl, it was an emergency) and sped off.
Except OF COURSE I don't actually speed, unless I'm hunting drunk drivers. *snirk*
It's in the Doctoring of Newborns Rules that when a babeh has a high temp, they need to go directly to the hospitable and be tested for sepsis to make sure the babeh doesn't die. So we went to the Emergency Department of Children's Hospital in Buffalo, and they poked things in his arm and in his, umm, well, the thing they poked with was a catheter, and also in his spinal cord. They did the spinal tap twice. I wasn't in the room for that, I think there's a really good reason why you're not allowed to watch your child get a spinal tap and that reason is called So You Don't Kill The Nurses and Doctors Doing The Spinal Tap Because There Is A Limited Number Of Those People. And then they pumped his little self full of precautionary antibiotics, which is not something I'd allow on a regular sort of day, but seeing as how this was an Official Special Day, we took the antibiotic cocktail and smiled pleasantly.
Then, for extra special, and also because the spinal tap was a double failure, the doctor ordered an MRI or CAT scan or something involving XRAYS and HIS BRAIN and also DYE, because, you know, extra special.
And by that time? Mama wanted a stiff drink. Or five. Or just a bottle of Maker's Mark would have done nicely. Because it had been a long, stinking day, that's why. Instead, Uncle Ben and Aunt Sarah came by with a slice of pizza and a cherry coke, which was a way better idea. (But they did contemplate smuggling yet another round of booze into yet another hospital because they are Teh Awesomes.)
And so we were given a room, and the lovely doctors and nurses took good care of mah babeh, and by the next morning, the blisters on his pelvis had started being fruitless and had ceased multiplying. Also, they brought me food and I didn't have to forage, and I really appreciated that.
Not so much appreciation for the nurse/random diaper collecting woman (they weighed the diapers to monitor hydration via output) who asked my not-yet-30-year-old friend if she was E's GRANDMA. She. Failed. Steenky Bee tweeted me that I should ask her if she was a tranny the next time she came 'round, but I do not have a set big enough to do that, and also, I couldn't decide if she a) would know what I was talking about; or b) actually WAS a tranny and would be superoffended that I didn't notice.
Anyway.
We spent a little more than 48 hours at the hospital, so they could grow plants in E's blood and pee. Maybe it wasn't plants they were trying to grow, but that's how I pictured it... little blood plants and little pee plants sprouting up out of the petri dish. And YES! It did entertain me to do that, because honestly, by hour 15 of the Jon and Kate Plus Eight Marathon I needed a little something to make me smile. Because Kate was stressing me out.
Thanks for all your kind thoughts and prayers, and for all the tweeting that was keeping me off the rooftops, especially during the spinal tap. I can't remember who sent me a virtual tweety dinner, or who sent me the tweetloaf, but it was awesome. Tasted great, and was less filling than actual meatloaf. Vegans love it!
Anyway. Sweets woke up with a bazillion pus-filled blisters on his pelvis. Well, maybe not a bazillion, but when yo' babeh has teh nastys on his parts? It's a bazillion. Also, I had a little fever. Just weird. Not I'm just weird, the fever was just weird.
We went to visit our friend the doctor the next day, and she thought Sweets had thrush. Except, here's the thing, I said, I don't have thrush. Because I know when I have thrush. So she prescribed some Nystatin-esque cream to rub into his parts. And that stuff? Did not work. Unless the idea was to increase the number of blisters, because those guys were fruitful and multiplied. Not unlike the Duggars. Except the Duggars are not blisters. Moving on.
Friday morning of that week, Sweets woke up with a Fever. It was a capital-F fever, 101 degrees. I busted out the infants' Tylenol-ish product we have, and despite its claim to be for infants, it only has dosing directions for infants who weigh over 24 pounds. Thanks, Tylenol! You're super useful in feverish situations. So naturally, being the conscientious parent I am, I called the doctor to find out how 'zactly much Tylenol I should give the babeh.
At which time, the doctor promptly flipped her gourd (for very good reason, honestly) and demanded that we come to the office IMMEDIATELY. So I packed up all the short people and hit Burger King (sorry, That Girl, it was an emergency) and sped off.
Except OF COURSE I don't actually speed, unless I'm hunting drunk drivers. *snirk*
It's in the Doctoring of Newborns Rules that when a babeh has a high temp, they need to go directly to the hospitable and be tested for sepsis to make sure the babeh doesn't die. So we went to the Emergency Department of Children's Hospital in Buffalo, and they poked things in his arm and in his, umm, well, the thing they poked with was a catheter, and also in his spinal cord. They did the spinal tap twice. I wasn't in the room for that, I think there's a really good reason why you're not allowed to watch your child get a spinal tap and that reason is called So You Don't Kill The Nurses and Doctors Doing The Spinal Tap Because There Is A Limited Number Of Those People. And then they pumped his little self full of precautionary antibiotics, which is not something I'd allow on a regular sort of day, but seeing as how this was an Official Special Day, we took the antibiotic cocktail and smiled pleasantly.
Then, for extra special, and also because the spinal tap was a double failure, the doctor ordered an MRI or CAT scan or something involving XRAYS and HIS BRAIN and also DYE, because, you know, extra special.
And by that time? Mama wanted a stiff drink. Or five. Or just a bottle of Maker's Mark would have done nicely. Because it had been a long, stinking day, that's why. Instead, Uncle Ben and Aunt Sarah came by with a slice of pizza and a cherry coke, which was a way better idea. (But they did contemplate smuggling yet another round of booze into yet another hospital because they are Teh Awesomes.)
And so we were given a room, and the lovely doctors and nurses took good care of mah babeh, and by the next morning, the blisters on his pelvis had started being fruitless and had ceased multiplying. Also, they brought me food and I didn't have to forage, and I really appreciated that.
Not so much appreciation for the nurse/random diaper collecting woman (they weighed the diapers to monitor hydration via output) who asked my not-yet-30-year-old friend if she was E's GRANDMA. She. Failed. Steenky Bee tweeted me that I should ask her if she was a tranny the next time she came 'round, but I do not have a set big enough to do that, and also, I couldn't decide if she a) would know what I was talking about; or b) actually WAS a tranny and would be superoffended that I didn't notice.
Anyway.
We spent a little more than 48 hours at the hospital, so they could grow plants in E's blood and pee. Maybe it wasn't plants they were trying to grow, but that's how I pictured it... little blood plants and little pee plants sprouting up out of the petri dish. And YES! It did entertain me to do that, because honestly, by hour 15 of the Jon and Kate Plus Eight Marathon I needed a little something to make me smile. Because Kate was stressing me out.
Thanks for all your kind thoughts and prayers, and for all the tweeting that was keeping me off the rooftops, especially during the spinal tap. I can't remember who sent me a virtual tweety dinner, or who sent me the tweetloaf, but it was awesome. Tasted great, and was less filling than actual meatloaf. Vegans love it!
I am so crazy behind on reading blogs. I have over 600 posts in my reader, and that doesn't include the blogs I am following. As the short people are getting better (HB is sick with multiple ear infections, I've actually lost count how exactly many ear infections he has at the moment, but I think it's somewhere around 93, and also some sort of GI thing that causes him to barf and crap liquid. It's amazing in a very disgusting way. Also, Sweets has caught the GI thing, and has been barfing neon greenish-yellow mung. But he did gain a whopping five ounces in two days, despite the barfing.) I'll catch up on my reading and the bounty of clever comments will resume.
But for now I am going to catch up on my sleep, and cuddle my sick babies, and also the ones that are not sick, but are wicked stressed out from all the disruption.
Thanks for being awesome, y'all.
Saturday, April 25, 2009
this is a cool blog you should check out. because i said so, that's why.
Celery haters unite! It is their call to action. The official Celery Bouncer is Heather, who also blogs here, (you should really read this here post because it is fanfreakingtastic, even though Carrot Top is present, but I can totally get over that due to the hilarity. WRH, this means you!)
With post labels like CRIMINALS, DISORDERLY, DRUNK, and SHAMEFUL CELERY BEHAVIOR, even the most ardent celery lover will get a kick, or possibly a stitch in their side from The League. I can't promise they'll invite you back if you identify yourself as a celery lover, or that Heather the Celery Bouncer won't come over and kick your ass, or that she won't mix pictures of you with Carrot Top (poor Fergie, really!). Just remember: When visiting the League, speak as the Leaguers speak, and you'll be safe.
Check them out.
Thursday, April 23, 2009
i'm losing followers, guess it's time to post.
Last weekend is really catching up with me. Actually, I think it has hunted me down and has consumed me for a mid-morning snack. I will say it one time right here, right now: I AM EXHAUSTED.
So we're all on the same page now.
In a few hours, I get to go to the Attica (yes, like the prison, except the prison was named after the town) Police Department to give a statement or testify or be deposed like a dictator regarding "The Incident of April 15th". Because that's how the police are referring to me going all narc on the (allegedly) drunk guy's (might have been a gal, guessing I'll find out later) ass. I'm going to drink a ton of coffee before I go so that mah brain cells are working real good, and so's I'm super entertaining. Because that's totally what they're looking for, right?
Or not.
And for the record, I am taking this very seriously, because drinking and driving is crazy serious, and people should just not do it.
This morning we had a photo shoot in our living room, of all places, with Sue Smith of Legacy Portraits. She brought the studio to us. More on that later, and also a super awesome deal on portraits for readers of my blog. It's even good for all my stalkers out there... you know who you are... And not only is it a great deal, but there's free stuff, too. But that's Monday.
I know how you people love free stuff.
Sue shot us up for almost two hours. We were having so much fun, we didn't notice. And naturally, my children were angels. Ahem.
Sweets took a fabulous nap afterwards, and woke up with a horrendous case of baby acne. Awesomesauce.
Abrupt topic change...
Lisa Brandos (hi Lisa!) tweeted this article today, and I just thought I'd share it with you to demonstrate that Waco, Texas, has not yet banned stupid people. I know it does not shine positively on Christians, especially, but I think the people in that lecture were way more STUPID than CHRISTIAN. Just read the article and laugh at the stupidity.
Moving on.
Or not. Short people are emerging from their sleepy cocoons, and their sweaty little selves are begging for a drink of water. Also they want to be cuddled, and there's nothing like a sweaty little self after a nap. I am outta here.
Quick question: Is Miss Suzy from Sid theAnnoying Science Kid the same singer as the one on Raggs? Does anyone know what I'm talking about?
Now I'm out of here. For realz.
So we're all on the same page now.
In a few hours, I get to go to the Attica (yes, like the prison, except the prison was named after the town) Police Department to give a statement or testify or be deposed like a dictator regarding "The Incident of April 15th". Because that's how the police are referring to me going all narc on the (allegedly) drunk guy's (might have been a gal, guessing I'll find out later) ass. I'm going to drink a ton of coffee before I go so that mah brain cells are working real good, and so's I'm super entertaining. Because that's totally what they're looking for, right?
Or not.
And for the record, I am taking this very seriously, because drinking and driving is crazy serious, and people should just not do it.
This morning we had a photo shoot in our living room, of all places, with Sue Smith of Legacy Portraits. She brought the studio to us. More on that later, and also a super awesome deal on portraits for readers of my blog. It's even good for all my stalkers out there... you know who you are... And not only is it a great deal, but there's free stuff, too. But that's Monday.
I know how you people love free stuff.
Sue shot us up for almost two hours. We were having so much fun, we didn't notice. And naturally, my children were angels. Ahem.
Sweets took a fabulous nap afterwards, and woke up with a horrendous case of baby acne. Awesomesauce.
Abrupt topic change...
Lisa Brandos (hi Lisa!) tweeted this article today, and I just thought I'd share it with you to demonstrate that Waco, Texas, has not yet banned stupid people. I know it does not shine positively on Christians, especially, but I think the people in that lecture were way more STUPID than CHRISTIAN. Just read the article and laugh at the stupidity.
Moving on.
Or not. Short people are emerging from their sleepy cocoons, and their sweaty little selves are begging for a drink of water. Also they want to be cuddled, and there's nothing like a sweaty little self after a nap. I am outta here.
Quick question: Is Miss Suzy from Sid the
Now I'm out of here. For realz.
Monday, April 20, 2009
it will just have to wait.
I was going to tell you the story about how we ended up at the hospital, and how truly blessed we are that Elliott had a fever Friday morning.
But he's hungry (read: protesting loudly and vigorously), so it will just have to wait.
Thanks for all your kindness, prayers and messages. They were very much appreciated.
xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo
But he's hungry (read: protesting loudly and vigorously), so it will just have to wait.
Thanks for all your kindness, prayers and messages. They were very much appreciated.
xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo
Sunday, April 19, 2009
UPDATED!!! okay, i understand that this is totally two days ago but i can't really watch the news with all the short people around
I know that I am probably most assuredly going to hear about this from all of the conservatives in my life. But really? It is so worth it.
Wednesday morning, I was supposed to hang with mah gal Hanna. Except she forgot she had to hang with the cable guy so that she could get high-speed internet so she can watch videos and actually visit mah blogishness instead of reading me in a reader... and also, her husband was going to some tea event with signs, some sort of protest thing, and he was taking the car, so she was stuck at home.
In the background, I heard him say, Who are you talking to?
And Hanna said, Just one of my liberal friends.
And then he muttered something, and left, and Hanna, the supportive and lovely wife, said, Have fun! I love you!
(I need to say that I'm not just flat-out mocking Hanna's unnamed popo hubby here, I'm just going to mock all people involved in this event.)
TEABAGGING. These people, the righty-right Republicans, have been sending teabags to the White House to protest the taxes. And now they're having Tea Parties.
Y'all? Are riflippingdiculous. Michelle does not strike me as a tea drinker, and if she is I'm pretty sure she's not drinking any nasty Lipton out of a bag for bloody hell's sake.
There are groups on effbook and twitter all about teabagging politically. As if THAT'S never been done before. What? you say. What is this teabagging and why are you mocking political teabaggers? Read this quicky post by The Bloggess, and catch your little self up on what teabagging is, and then come back. I'll wait. No really, I'm drinking beer and eating doritos right now. I can afford a few minutes. Take your time. Just make sure you're not drinking anything. You've been warned, so don't freaking complain back here.
Okay. You're back? Got it?
So really, Republicans? Teabagging? That's the best you can do? With all the dirty old Republican Senators tapping their toes in the bathroom and banging hookers, you people didn't see this coming? There are no gay men Republicans who giggled at your stupidity and then clued you in about what teabagging is?
Even if Rush Limbaugh and that Blahblah Savage Person haven't made Conservatives look ridiculous recently? A teabagging campaign would still be a bad idea. Even if the former President had been a raging success and not the bumbler he turned out to be? BAD IDEA. And the people that coined the phrase "TEABAG OBAMA"? Dudes. Have you seen his wife? She could totally take you with both arms tied behind her back and also probably if she was hopping on one foot.
Teabag Obama. Please.
And if you're not sick of it yet, you should totally watch this video. Because it is funny, that's why.
In other news, I was almost hit by a drunk driver Wednesday night. He tried hard to hit me from behind while I was on my way home from Target. I let him pass me (which, for the record, is something I neverevereverever do because I'm totally a jerk like that), and then I called the Sheriff's office (didn't get to talk to Hanna's husband, though, he had the day off for his teabagging party), and ratted his ass out.
I got home and The Mister said, So, did you have a nice, relaxing time at Target? And I said, Yes, but then on the way home I almost DIED BECAUSE OF A F*CKING DRUNK DRIVER!!!! and he was appropriately sympathetic, and recommended I go in the house and drink a beer, but I am so way ahead of him right now, I'm on beer number 2. Which will be the final beer because, well, it's the final beer. And also, for the record, I did not commence drinking until I had been home for a while. And he was out soldering (pronounced SODDERING, for all of you who are like me and can't say that word whilst looking at it) something, he was listening to the popo scanner and heard that the bastard in the blue truck got ARRESTED for being PLASTERED.
I. Was. A. HERO! Who knows how many lives I saved tonight by being a ratty tattle-tale. I am awesome. And a little buzzed. And I didn't get killed by a drunk driver, so I totally am the winner in this situation.
Good night, and good luck. Especially if your a Republican or a drunk driver. Because there are people out to get you if you are.
And PS? I am so labeling this post hot wives are hard to come by because it is, quite possibly, the best tag ever.
UPDATE:
I forgot to tell Hanna in advance that I mentioned her and her husband. Sorry, Hanna.
Also? I love and respect people who think differently than I do, I just found this specific use of the word teabagging to be really odd and funny.
And also, I am not drinking beer in the hospitalthis time, I wrote this post Wednesday night when I was happily drinking Yuengling Black and Tan in the comfort of my own home.
The End.
Wednesday morning, I was supposed to hang with mah gal Hanna. Except she forgot she had to hang with the cable guy so that she could get high-speed internet so she can watch videos and actually visit mah blogishness instead of reading me in a reader... and also, her husband was going to some tea event with signs, some sort of protest thing, and he was taking the car, so she was stuck at home.
In the background, I heard him say, Who are you talking to?
And Hanna said, Just one of my liberal friends.
And then he muttered something, and left, and Hanna, the supportive and lovely wife, said, Have fun! I love you!
(I need to say that I'm not just flat-out mocking Hanna's unnamed popo hubby here, I'm just going to mock all people involved in this event.)
TEABAGGING. These people, the righty-right Republicans, have been sending teabags to the White House to protest the taxes. And now they're having Tea Parties.
Y'all? Are riflippingdiculous. Michelle does not strike me as a tea drinker, and if she is I'm pretty sure she's not drinking any nasty Lipton out of a bag for bloody hell's sake.
There are groups on effbook and twitter all about teabagging politically. As if THAT'S never been done before. What? you say. What is this teabagging and why are you mocking political teabaggers? Read this quicky post by The Bloggess, and catch your little self up on what teabagging is, and then come back. I'll wait. No really, I'm drinking beer and eating doritos right now. I can afford a few minutes. Take your time. Just make sure you're not drinking anything. You've been warned, so don't freaking complain back here.
Okay. You're back? Got it?
So really, Republicans? Teabagging? That's the best you can do? With all the dirty old Republican Senators tapping their toes in the bathroom and banging hookers, you people didn't see this coming? There are no gay men Republicans who giggled at your stupidity and then clued you in about what teabagging is?
Even if Rush Limbaugh and that Blahblah Savage Person haven't made Conservatives look ridiculous recently? A teabagging campaign would still be a bad idea. Even if the former President had been a raging success and not the bumbler he turned out to be? BAD IDEA. And the people that coined the phrase "TEABAG OBAMA"? Dudes. Have you seen his wife? She could totally take you with both arms tied behind her back and also probably if she was hopping on one foot.
Teabag Obama. Please.
And if you're not sick of it yet, you should totally watch this video. Because it is funny, that's why.
In other news, I was almost hit by a drunk driver Wednesday night. He tried hard to hit me from behind while I was on my way home from Target. I let him pass me (which, for the record, is something I neverevereverever do because I'm totally a jerk like that), and then I called the Sheriff's office (didn't get to talk to Hanna's husband, though, he had the day off for his teabagging party), and ratted his ass out.
I got home and The Mister said, So, did you have a nice, relaxing time at Target? And I said, Yes, but then on the way home I almost DIED BECAUSE OF A F*CKING DRUNK DRIVER!!!! and he was appropriately sympathetic, and recommended I go in the house and drink a beer, but I am so way ahead of him right now, I'm on beer number 2. Which will be the final beer because, well, it's the final beer. And also, for the record, I did not commence drinking until I had been home for a while. And he was out soldering (pronounced SODDERING, for all of you who are like me and can't say that word whilst looking at it) something, he was listening to the popo scanner and heard that the bastard in the blue truck got ARRESTED for being PLASTERED.
I. Was. A. HERO! Who knows how many lives I saved tonight by being a ratty tattle-tale. I am awesome. And a little buzzed. And I didn't get killed by a drunk driver, so I totally am the winner in this situation.
Good night, and good luck. Especially if your a Republican or a drunk driver. Because there are people out to get you if you are.
And PS? I am so labeling this post hot wives are hard to come by because it is, quite possibly, the best tag ever.
UPDATE:
I forgot to tell Hanna in advance that I mentioned her and her husband. Sorry, Hanna.
Also? I love and respect people who think differently than I do, I just found this specific use of the word teabagging to be really odd and funny.
And also, I am not drinking beer in the hospital
The End.
Saturday, April 18, 2009
hey! guess what? teh interwebs is at teh hospitable!
Hi, all you most favoritest peeps of mine. I just discovered this here computer, and read every last five of the 200 some emails in my inbox, browsed a blog or two, and commented on my last post.
Elliott is certifiably the most chill baby ever, and he is well-liked by all the nurses here at Children's. Also well-liked? His BabyLegs. And yes, these are the exact ones he's wearing.
With a complimentary light orange hospitable gown.
And why do I keep saying hospitable when that is CLEARLY not what I mean? Because it's fun, that's why, and I've been sitting around like a bum all day, feeding my sweet babe and eating foodstuffs and drinking barely palatable coffee. Also watching trashy TV (for example Millionaire Matchmaker. Barf.)
Elliott is doing well, eating and sleeping and smiling at me when he remembers that my face corresponds with the boobies he loves so well. My good friend Heather (hi, Heather!) came up to visit today, and brought me clean pants and shampoo and my camera (thanks, Heather!). But no pics of Elliott smiling. Of course.
Thanks for your thoughts and prayers and well-wishes. My phone didn't receive all the tweets tweeted in my direction, so if I didn't respond to you, don't think I ignored you on purpose. I really appreciate all the messages, received or stored up for me on Twitter, as I've been here with Elliott all by my lonesome for this whole time.
Don't hate on The Mister, he had an enormously huge concert to mix this weekend, far away, with an enormously huge paycheck attached to it, so I made him stay there.
It's been nice to feel the love.
We hope to be discharged Sunday night if nothing yucky shows up in the petri dishes.
Elliott is certifiably the most chill baby ever, and he is well-liked by all the nurses here at Children's. Also well-liked? His BabyLegs. And yes, these are the exact ones he's wearing.
With a complimentary light orange hospitable gown.
And why do I keep saying hospitable when that is CLEARLY not what I mean? Because it's fun, that's why, and I've been sitting around like a bum all day, feeding my sweet babe and eating foodstuffs and drinking barely palatable coffee. Also watching trashy TV (for example Millionaire Matchmaker. Barf.)
Elliott is doing well, eating and sleeping and smiling at me when he remembers that my face corresponds with the boobies he loves so well. My good friend Heather (hi, Heather!) came up to visit today, and brought me clean pants and shampoo and my camera (thanks, Heather!). But no pics of Elliott smiling. Of course.
Thanks for your thoughts and prayers and well-wishes. My phone didn't receive all the tweets tweeted in my direction, so if I didn't respond to you, don't think I ignored you on purpose. I really appreciate all the messages, received or stored up for me on Twitter, as I've been here with Elliott all by my lonesome for this whole time.
Don't hate on The Mister, he had an enormously huge concert to mix this weekend, far away, with an enormously huge paycheck attached to it, so I made him stay there.
It's been nice to feel the love.
We hope to be discharged Sunday night if nothing yucky shows up in the petri dishes.
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