Category Archives: Annoyances

unresolved

In a time long ago, before we had Brooklynn and before we were really considering children, Rhiannon and I had grandiose ideas of finishing our basement ourselves. With a little a lot of help, I even got so far as to have one whole wall framed out.

Yes, one wall, straight line, with a window even. It was beautiful.

And then the progress stopped and we did things like travel and go outside and stack boxes of stuff in the basement. Grandiose was put on hold.

One day in the spring of 2009, we came to the realistic conclusion that if we were going to have the basement finished, we should probably do it before we had a kid.  If we didn’t, who knows how long it would take us to actually get around to it.  Seeing as how Rhiannon was already pregnant, it was pretty apparent that we were working on a limited timeline with a firm end date and the DIY option was not nearly as inviting as it had been in the past.

So, we hired a company and got it done. Would I have liked to do a little more if it myself? Sure, but I am man enough to admit that it would not have turned out nearly as well if I had taken that approach. Between the design and actual construction, it would have turned into one of those endless ongoing projects.  I’m still trying to get around to finishing up the drywall on one wall in our garage that started over a year ago.

While we were at it, we had the contractor wire in hookups for a drop-down screen, projector, and speaker system. Yes, it’s a small basement with room for a pool table or a dedicated home theater room, but we got a bedroom, bathroom, and the option to watch some movies on a decent sized screen.

And the hookups sat in the ceiling unused. Until the Super Bowl rolled around and we decided to have a few friends over to watch the game. So we bought some gift cards for Amazon to order us some electronics. Amazon because, hey cheaper prices and no sales tax. (Colorado is in the act of trying to pass a bill to charge sales tax on online purchases right now to go into effect in two weeks. Make your big purchases soon.) Gift cards from the grocery store because we get some money back on grocery store purchases with a credit card.

To get further off topic, we really have to look at our ability to reason. The state we live in has a record budget shortcoming and one area that is looking at getting a large reduction in funding is public education. Oh, hey, look at that – Rhiannon is a teacher at a public school. My job is still hanging in there, but there is certainly no overtime or extra work floating around like a few years ago.

Yes, the economy seems to be turning around, but it’s slow. What should we do? If you answered but a home theater system, maybe we should be friends. Or go to counseling together.

So, we bought gift cards for Amazon in increments of $100 each. I don’t know how many grocery store purchases of several hundred dollars on a single purchase fit in one plastic bag, but the clerk’s reaction gave me the impression that it was a little unusual.

One of the gift cards didn’t work.

I checked the receipt – yep, it was activated correctly just like all the other ones that went through just fine. I contacted Amazon. The code on the card was invalid and due to “confidentiality reasons” they were unable to tell me more and suggested I take the card back to the location I purchased it from.

Confidentiality? They’re the ones who made the card that I have. What can they not tell me? Would some lawyer-client privileges be breached somewhere?

Back the store. Customer service counter with a teenager working. I explain the situation and show him the card and the receipt. He looks at me. At the card. At the receipt. Back at me. Back at the two items. Sighs.

Picks up the phone and calls for a manager.

Same story, but the manager says he’ll go try to get in contact with Amazon even though it really isn’t the store’s problem. All sales on cards are supposed to be final and Amazon already got the money from the store for the purchase.

Over a half hour later, still waiting. I got status updates consisting of “Amazon is really hard to get in contact with.” I was offered a cup of coffee which I declined. And I waited some more.

Have you ever tried to kill 30 minutes in a grocery store without actually shopping for groceries? At least the newspaper stand was right by customer service; I made a good dent in the daily New York Times.

How do you know that you’ve been waiting in the grocery store too long?

You see employees leave for and come back from a lunch break.

You know that the grocery store recently changed it’s retirement age requirements and the cashier working the self-checkout lanes now has to work an extra four years for full benefits which is bad because her husband just go to retire last year and now he is a bum at home with no one there to get him to do anything.

You know that shipments of flowers from the east coast have been delayed a little by all the recent snow storms which isn’t good because, hello, Valentine’s day coming up.

You know that the high school kid working the customer service desk has a really hard time understanding a thick Chinese accent, especially in regards to sending a Western Union money transfer to China.

You know that the high school girl getting coffee from the Starbucks and talking with her friend would have totally gone to the movies with John because he’s pretty cute except that Megan texted her that John had kissed Katie after the dance last weekend and she texted John’s friend Danny to find out if it was true. Danny didn’t know if was true or not, but he thought that John kind of liked Katie, so the movies this weekend was not going to happen. And oh my god, she thinks the all the red and pink balloons are so awesome.

My advice to John? Deny everything and buy the girl some balloons.

This is how you know you have been in the grocery store too long – you now feel completely out of touch with the younger generation and are terrified at the fact your daughter will some day be a teenager.

The grocery store manager came back and said the Amazon customer service sounded like where from India and said the card didn’t exist. The card I bought and looked and he was holding and also looking at didn’t exist. Amazon had no record of it, ever.

I guess I now also believe in ghostly gift cards. The grocery store manager was even more irritated that I was, mostly, I’m assuming, because he just found about John and Katie after the dance. Katie, that shameless hussy!

An Amazon manager is supposed to call the grocery store manager back sometime today. I got a $25 grocery store for my inconvenience and the ghost card back to hold on to for my own safekeeping.

I’ll let you know how it all turns out.

if she hits the weights, she could be huge

In case you haven’t heard, we’re still at the hospital.  This is night number five. Earlier today, we thought things were looking good to go home soon. Now, I just don’t know anymore.

It’s hard. I generally try to be a little humorous about the situations we find ourselves in during the adventures of parenting a baby, and let’s all be honest; there are plenty of funny, if also exasperating and exhausting, situations.

This is not one of them.

It’s not that we haven’t had our lighter moments. Brooklynn has an oxygen saturation monitor. For adults, it’s that thing they clip on your finger. For babies, it’s a little red light that wraps around their big toe. Her toe glows red at night through both pajamas and a fleece blanket, and I think she is a little bit like a cross between Rudolph and ET’s glowing finger. “Attack of Rudolph’s Foot Phoning Home” or some such thing.

Brooklynn is also the undisputed pediatric wing champion at snot production. One of the nurses referred to her as the “Booger Queen”.  Today, they emptied out about a half cup of snot from the suction canister. I know that half cup doesn’t seem like much, but find a twenty pound person and a measuring cup. Compare the size of that cup to the size of the head. I’m just hoping that they aren’t sucking any brain out along with all the mucus.

Brooklynn has RSV (respiratory syncytial virus), which infects and inflames the lungs and respiratory tract.  It’s common enough in children and adults but normally presents as just cold-like symptoms. However, in young children, it can be slightly more serious.

Last Monday, we noticed that Brooklynn was a little wheezy when breathing, but she otherwise seemed like her normal happy self, so we let it go. Tuesday was a little worse, and by the time Rhiannon picked her up from day care on Wednesday afternoon, things weren’t good.

We have ourselves a happy baby, so when Brooklynn was lethargic and showing labored breathing, Rhiannon took her in to our family doctor. She had a very low oxygen level, and a nebulizer treatment did little for it. I got a call at home that they were in the ER and being admitted to the hospital that night.

We spent about three hours in the ER waiting for a room in the pediatric unit to open up. What we didn’t know at the time is that the room would become our new home for this long.

We’ve had too many nurses and aides to count them all. We’ve grown tired of the cafeteria food and the local semi-fast food joints.  We’re a little bit stir-crazy being cooped up in a room around the size of our master bedroom suite for five days.

But we’ve always had the hope that Brooklynn is getting better.  During admission, we were told hopefully two nights. On Thursday, she didn’t improve as much as they hoped, so we were prepared to stay until Saturday.

And we made a mistake. We planned. We got our hopes and expectations up. We packed up all of our things on Saturday morning like we were going home. You know what happened. Like I started this entry, we’re still here.

Brooklynn is on oxygen 24/7, but they do a room air test to see what her oxygen saturation will dip to during the night and during the day. Ideally, we’d be in the 90s. We’ll take 85. One night, she hit 68. That is brain damage territory.

We already know that we’ll be taking oxygen home with us in a portable tank. What we can’t take home with us is the round-the-clock monitoring of her levels. When she pulls her canula (the little nose tube) out in the middle of the night, Rhiannon and I would have no way of knowing that unless we watched her all night long in shifts.

So we can’t go home yet.

And tonight, she had to have the highest levels of oxygen since she’s been here. We’ve been treating her with nebulizer treatments of racemic epinephrine. Today we started a course of oral steroids for her lungs and topical steroids for some eczema-like patches that have cropped up due to our lack of lotion-at-bedtime routine.

For those of you who remember the Barry Bonds investigation from a few years ago: Brooklynn is on the cream and the clear.

She also managed to get another ear infection, so she’s on high strength antibiotics. Considering we’ve treated all her illness up to this point with a steady combination of Motrin and Tylenol, she has enough drugs in her to open up her own mini pharmacy.

The doctors and nurses are still positive that she’ll get better soon and that she is on the upswing, but it’s hard. The pediatric wing is completely full.  As soon as a room opens up, it is cleaned and turned around to the next waiting patient in the ER.

The majority of the floor is RSV. And the room across the hall from us has been occupied by 4 different patients. Four kids have come and gone in the time we’ve been here.

Today was a rough day. Rather than making progress, she went back a little. It seemed like every time she would fall asleep, some nurse or doctor needed to look at her and would wake her back up. And then you start typing terms like “racemic” into a search engine and you peer-reviewed medical journal articles describing a myocardial infarction in a healthy pediatric patient after receiving the treatment.  You find out that 30% of all kids with bronchiolitis (a side effect of RSV) go on to develop asthma.

You have to love the internet, right?

We aren’t doing a room air test tonight. We’re just letting her sleep as much as possible without being disturbed. That already happened for about three hours between respiratory therapy and medicinal administration.

And the doctor could tell we’re getting tired of being here and frustrated with the seeming lack of progress. We’re a little short when a nurse who is helping out doesn’t know how to do a procedure on a baby. We’re a little impatient when help gets tied up another room.  I’m pretty sure we’re one of the longest tenured patients on the floor; that’s go to count for something, right?

We’re not going home tomorrow. Frankly, until we actually see discharge papers, I think we’re done expecting to go home. When it happens, it will be a nice surprise.  If anything, Brooklynn is handling this the best of any of us. She has toys to play with and basically gets Mom or Dad when ever she is awake.

Brooklynn was born in this same hospital almost seven months ago. She spent two nights here at that time. We’ll be here at least six now. And yes, we are very fortunate to have this type of care. It’s hard to feel life is unfair when we read stories of people performing amputations with only Motrin as medication. I’m sure a few million people would trade spots with us. But this is our baby, our little girl.

We just want her to be better. There is no magic pill; trust me, we’ve asked, repeatedly.

It’s about 2am as I’m wrapping this up. A baby near by is crying. The hospital is fun to visit, but you don’t want to live here. Trust me.

Brooklynn, get better. Please.

we’re still here

Here being the hospital that is. Frankly, at this point, it’s getting to be routine. Even the new weekend shift nurses don’t have too much to tell us about.

Brooklynn is still on oxygen and probably will be after we take her home as well.

Give me the gas

Aside from the fact the O2 has dried out her nose enough that it has started to bleed and she likes to try and rip the tubing off of her face when her nose runs (her nose runs all the time), we’re doing great.

accepting the bad to get the good

It feels like Brooklynn has been sick for the majority of the past month and half and we’ve made more unscheduled doctor visits than I care to recount.  (We haven’t received any bills for these yet; although I’m not saying we would avoid going to see a medical professional at the sacrifice of our child’s health, I’m also not saying that the out-of-pocket cost when on a high-deductible health plan isn’t something that we don’t think about. (And if you can follow that many negatives in one sentence and still get my meaning, congratulations.))

At the last visit, just before we kicked of 2010, we found out she has an ear infection. I wasn’t surprised by this since I was pretty sure I also had an ear infection at the time and I seemed to have the same cold she did. If a tendency to be susceptible to ear infections is genetic (and we’ve heard it is), then this will not be the last time we take her in because she is rubbing her ears and showing eleveated temperatures.

I had ear infections as a child, and while I don’t remember all of them, they were often and severe enough that I had three rounds of tubes put in my ears. Yep, I was the kid who had to make sure he didn’t get water in his ears during showers and wore ear plugs to the pool. I also had an aversion to swallowing large pills, so I got mine crushed up in a spoonful of Gatorade. I don’t know if this has anything to do with the infections, but I’m just saying, if Brooklynn picks up tendencies from me, we have a long road ahead of us.

The doctor prescribed some antibiotics to help clear up the infection and gave us the go ahead to give her Motrin as well as Tylenol for the slight fever and ear pain. We were told that we should see improvement within 24 hours.

And we did. The coughing slowly subsided, the fevers stopped, and we got our normally happy and independent baby back. Now, you may ask yourself how independent can a 6-month old baby really be, and I grant you that she is a little time removed from staying home by herself and making microwave popcorn, but she will at least sit and play with some toys without constant attention.

At least, normally she will. Last week, if we tried to move anywhere but directly in front of her, like to get a tissue to wipe away the snot running down her face, she cried. If we left her in her crib just long enough to grab the medicine that was supposed to make her feel better, she cried.  And that has stopped. So yes, we saw quick improvement.

What the doctor didn’t tell us about was the fact that antibiotics and Motrin will grease up a digestive system as well. Literally. The first messy diaper after we started the medicine looked like it had been lubed up with a grease gun, allowing the second, runnier wave two to quickly slide up and out the back and onto her clothes and back and neck and near her shoulders…

All I will say is that it’s interesting trying to take a shirt off an infant without it actually touching her head and it was even more fun trying to clean water resistant poop out of a cloth diaper using water. Now you know why we have gone back to disposable diapers during the days until this medicine is done.

And why we hope that she poops at daycare so we don’t have to deal with it. (Sorry, Jamie.) Last report we heard was it took around 10 wipes to get all of the business down there fully cleaned out.

We go back this afternoon for the official 6-month checkup and vaccinations, so we get a freebie appointment to follow up on the ear infection status. And hopefully the infection is gone and we can end the medicine tomorrow as currently planned.  Keep your fingers crossed. Otherwise, I would not be surprised if our daycare rate mysteriously rose for a few weeks.

in project: tough love, there are no winners

A little over a month ago, Brooklynn woke up unexpectedly during the middle of the night. She had been sleeping for around 9 hours each and every night since about 2 months of age. Pretty much every nurse, doctor, and anyone who has ever had children said that was amazing and we should consider ourselves blessed.

And we took it for granted. Rhiannon went back to work, Brooklynn slept through the night, and we were a fully functional family unit.

So, when she woke up, she was a little over 4 months in age and we chalked it up to a growth spurt. We fed her a bottle, she took it down ravenously, and promptly passed out. She did this for about three nights.

Then, the middle of the night eating became more leisurely and the sleeping came more and more slowly each night. This was followed by two rounds of sickness, stuffy noses, coughing, and poor sleeping. We continued feeding her during the night when she woke up, but both Rhiannon and I knew at this point, we were enablers helping a strong habit forming behavior. Still, it’s hard to ignore a sick baby, and if feeding helped her back to sleep, then feed we would.

It all led up to the point that we found ourselves bouncing her to sleep in our arms each night, rocking her to sleep in her car seat for daytime naps, and still getting up in the middle of the night.

It had to end.

Enter, Project: Tough Love.

We didn’t go to Nebraska on Tuesday due to weather, so Rhiannon spent the day looking at strategies for getting a baby to sleep through night. We decided to stop feeding her in the wee hours, and we swore we would not pick her up and bounce her back to sleep. We figured if she normally woke up once at 3:50 am, we could handle a little crying if it payed off in the long run.

She went to sleep at 10pm. We went to sleep at 11:15. She was crying at midnight. What a wonderful start. Somehow, she knew what was coming.

I calmed her in her crib with the soothing hand on chest trick and some quiet words, and then I left the room. She cried for 4 minutes and fell asleep. No eating. No bouncing. No problems.

Project: Tough Love is awesome.

She woke up again at 2:50. And she cried, so we let her alone for a few minutes to see what would happen. She cried more. I went to the old standby of earlier in the night: a soothing hand and quiet words. She cried harder.

We left the room again.

We went back in and soothed. She was almost asleep, so we left again. She cried even harder.

At some point over an hour later, I was tired enough that I fell asleep while she was still crying. I hoped that it would be good in the long run, but listening to your child choke on her own tears while you lay wide awake at 4am is not anyone’s idea of a good time.

After roughly 90 minutes, I picked her up. I bounced briefly. I used a pacifier and rocked her body in her crib. A blanket wrapped around the arms and lullaby later, she was passed out, probably more from her own exhaustion than anything I really did to help.

She woke up at 6:30 in the morning. Rhiannon fed her and she went back to sleep.  Night one of Project: Tough Love down.

That night in the trenches was far worse than I expected. I was ready for a half-hour of crying. I was ready to be awake. I was not ready to be awake three times for that length of time. Rhiannon and I were frustrated and snappy and not having a good time

I didn’t feel like it helped us or helped her. But we vowed to continue on. Naps in the crib with no bouncing. We let her fall asleep on her own.

Last night, she slept.

All. Night. Long.

And it was wonderful. Rhiannon found a small pink hippo that has a music box in it and that seems to provide the perfect amount of sound to go to sleep by. Tonight, she put herself down without much fuss. One night does not a pattern make, but we have our fingers crossed.

As much as I was not ready to be up for over two hours that first night, I was certainly ready to be up for more than just the first night only. Having said this, I am reasonably certain that I will be up again tonight; this seems to be karma’s M.O.

In Project: Tough Love, there is not a winner and loser. We’re just one big team, one big happy (or not) family. We win or lose together.

Or one of us sleeps on the couch in the basement as far away from the crying child as possible. Yep, that person is the real winner here. I’ll let you know if that’s me.

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