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Archive for February, 2006

And Still More

Husband’s still out of town and I spend last night in the ER. I know what you’re thinking “sounds funny so far but where’s this going?” On my last post we leave off with baby having fever of 102 in the a.m. She refused and food or drink during the day and was hot and trembly. Being a first time mom that is just to hard to watch without calling the pediatrician for guidance. A pleasant sounding on call nurse told me it was best to bring her on in to Urgent Care if just for peace of mind. In Urgent Care, she was looked at, weighed, deemed to not be dehydrated and mama and baby were sent home with intructions to give Tylenol every four hours (really? Ya think?). I asked “what if she won’t eat or drink anything?” and I was told not to worry about it. She’d drink when she felt like it. Or I could try to give her droppers full of water just to wet her mouth. So we went home. I think I foreshadowed where this is headed.

A few hours later, she was tired and still hot even with the tylenol in her and I finally was able to get her to take a few ounce of milk. She really wasn’t into it but given the comfort of the bottle managed to drink a bit. I put her to bed and a half hour later got a creepy feeling. You know the one? The one where you just know somethin’ ain’t right? I go into her room and she’s moaning and trying to sit up so I scooped her out of her crib and she immediately puked all over both of us. Then the poor little bug was trembling and shaking in my arms and well, just didn’t look so hot. But she felt extremely hot. So back to the phone to call the on call emergency doc. He called back and told me to bring her to the ER.

Can we talk about the ER? It’s not like on the TV show. At all. It’s more like going to the DMV if you were scared and crying. Which come to think of it, have you ever gotten out of the DMV without shedding a few tears? The intake person had the personality of a meter maid. Do these people ever make eye contact or are they afraid they might have to be human if they looked at your worried face?

Intake Lady handed me a butt load of paperwork and told me I’d have to wait my turn with the 50 or so “non emergency looking” folks in the waiting room. Meanwhile the emergency on call doc had said if I don’t call an ambulance he’d call ahead and make sure I didn’t have to wait. But like every DMV clerk worth their salt when I mentioned this she waved around the room and said “all these people are waiting too.” So we sat. But luckily, my husband who was calling ever five seconds from Virginia doesn’t suffer fools and called the on call doctor who called the hospital who got us called in quickly.

We’re led into the first room where we’re greeted non verbally and again with no eye contact by a humorless Santa Claus looking man who only says “strip the baby down to a diaper.” He then takes her temp and reports that she’s 99 degrees. There was no fucking way my kid only had a temp of 99. Seriously, not a fucking chance. And this asshole works at a hospital. So I said, “I really think her fever is higher than that. Can you check again?” He says “That’s her temp. But if you want you can have the nurse take it again when I send you back.”

Ten minutes later I’m led back to a curtained alcove and the nurse comes back looking irritated as all get out and says “So, you wanted her temp taken again?” As if she was saying “What do you want me to change her damn diapers too?” I said “I think she’s way hotter than 99. feel her forehead.” She says “I’m wearing gloves” and proceeds to take her temp again. Which turns out to be 103.

I’ll spare you all the details of having your baby daughter held down and an IV being put in her arm (taking two tries due to dehydration) but I will tell you that she cried for hours and finally slept on my chest until we were ready to leave.

Poor thing still has fever now but is sleeping.

Posted by Stefanie Wilder Taylor on February 12, 2006 6:22 pmUncategorized8 comments  

Motherhood Ain’t For Pussies – Update there’s more

Today may have been the longest day of my life. I don’t know what force is helping me to sit semi upright in my office chair in my robe that was featured on one of those “Oprah’s Favorite Things” before I possibly pop a Klonopin and hit the T-shirt sheets. Sadly it’s 8:22 on a Friday night! Yeah, being a mom is a lot like being a single gal in her twenties minus EVERYTHING that goes along with being a single gal in her twenties or thirties for that matter.

My husband went out of town this morning. He had a flight out of Long Beach at some horrid hour like 7 and had to be out of the house at 5:45. Of course he couldn’t leave without first popping his head in to the baby’s room to say goodbye. Yeah, that’s a good idea. Wake the fucking baby up two seconds before you check out of domestic island for a weekend.

Not to sound like a Dave Barry column but why is it that my kid can sleep so soundly sometimes that an earthquake would leave her out cold but at the wrong time you can step on the hardwood floor the wrong way and the slight creak will have her wailing like she’s having surgery with no anesthesia?

So, yeah, I had to get up with the baby at 5:45 with a migraine and lay on the couch waiting for the Imitrex to numb the pain. I put baby in front of a video and tried to sleep but that never works. So we struggled through for a few hours until it was time for “My Gym.” Footnote: My Gym is not a place for an adult with even a mild migraine. There should be a sign. Because even if your headache is almost gone, a chorus of “Hi hi how ya doing welcome to my gym, we’re here for games and some fun now it’s time to begin. Hi hi how ya doing, welcome to my gym”……can make you want to stone one of the instructors to death. Normally I find this place to be a good way to burn off $165 dollars for ten 45 minute sessions but today I was not in the mood. Plus, there’s tons of stuff to do in there but my kid wanted only to sit on the mini trampoline and bounce the entire time. We could do that at home in bed.

Finally that was done and now it’s 10 a.m. Can you believe it? Most people are just getting up and I’m totally wiped out. But we still had a solid 9 and a half hours to go. Next up was coffee for me and then a nap for her. I managed to watch a TiVo’d episode of House but not to take a nap. It was the episode where Julie Warner is on fertility drugs and starts having crazy muscle spasms and then you find out she’s taking Ritilin and her husband wants nothing to do with her and her “drug abuse.” Come on. If your husband’s going to leave you for taking Ritalin you’ve got bigger problems in your marriage. Maybe he was a Scientologist. I guess I’ll never know the backstory in the writers’ heads but I seriously digress.

If you want to quit reading now I totally understand. You probably don’t have this kind of time. But there’s more. And I need to get it all out.

So, next is lunch for her followed by a bout of crying for no reason. I managed to scarf down a bagel while plotting our next activity. At this point it’s about one. We watched some tv, went for a walk then it was time to meet a prospective new babysitter to give me cheaper back up from my regular babysitter who is an actress on the brink of stardom. Or at least on the brink of booking a regional commercial. The baby and I arrived at the woman’s house at the appointed time but she wasn’t there. Isn’t that a weird feeling when you show up to someone’s house that’s supposed to be there but they’re not? You keep checking and rechecking the address wondering if it’s really happening? I was barely awake at this point and in no mood to leave and come back another time so we kicked it in the driveway for awhile and sure enough, she came back about fifteen minutes later. We hang out in this strange woman’s house that I’m contemplating leaving my baby with and it occurs to me that I’d be LEAVING MY BABY at someone else’s house. I suddenly got all jittery and had to get the hell out of there. Next stop, the mall.

I arrive at the mall around 4:30, buy something for my husband for Valentine’s Day, and baby starts having a slight meltdown about having to be sitting in the stroller. So it’s off to the play area. This is a great place for your kid to pick up pneumonia or at least a skin infection. I think they clean this area…never. But while sitting there watching baby play I notice a puddle around her butt. yes, Mom of the year had let her get a totally full and spilling over diaper and now she was soaked. I grabbed her, stuck her back in the stroller, took her to the car, took off her pants and diaper and realized I hadn’t brought another diaper. So, she rode home pantsless. Seriously, I put a sock between her privates and the buckle on the carseat. I need to be arrested.

We get home at six, I cook her dinner, bring her tired and screaming into the tub, read a story and put her to bed at 7:30. It’s then I realize I haven’t eaten anything but a bagel since 5:45 a.m. and my body is starting to turn on itself for nourishment. But there really isn’t anything too appetizing in the house to eat so maybe I’ll order Chinese or maybe I’ll just go to bed. Okay, you’re done. I’m done. But damn, aren’t babies so cute when they’re sleeping?

Okay, for those of you who read the first part of this already, here’s the update. She goes to bed at 7:30 but at about 10:30 when I’m about to finally go to sleep, she starts crying. Hard. I let her cry for a few minutes but she making weird noises and something doesn’t seem right. Running into her room, I find her wailing with puke EVERYWHERE. Nothing in her crib escaped the hotdogs, cheese (lunch) and mini ravioli that she’d eaten during the day. Crib bumpers, sheet, mattress pad, stuffed animals a random book…I felt like just tossing her whole room in the trash. Plus no husband to help calm her while I cleaned up. And then she proceeded to puke again every 15 or 20 minutes for the next hour. Once in my bed, once on the floor…you get the picture. Finally, I get her settled in my bed not puking and I’m able to strip her bed which I can smell from my room. Eventually she’s back in her crib which is all clean (she wouldn’t fall asleep in my bed) and she went back to sleep until 5:30 when she woke up crying. This time she was able to sleep with me until about 7:30 when we both woke up to find she has a fever of 102. Poor baby.

Does it ever get easier?

Posted by Stefanie Wilder Taylor on February 11, 2006 4:21 amUncategorized6 comments  

El Pollo Loco

I’m tired. That kind of tired like you’ve just done two shots of Nyquil tired. Oh wait, I did take some Nyquil. Do you ever have a cold and you take Nyquil but then you kind of keep taking it for way longer than you probably need to? But each time you think to yourself, well, sure my cold is almost inperceptible now but it would be beneficial to just make sure I get the best night sleep possible. And then before you know it, you’ve gone through like six bottles of Nyquil. On the bright side, at least you now have a complete set of those little cups. They can be reused for shooters.

Nyquil is some good shit. At this point, besides pinot grigio, Nyquil’s about as hard as it gets. Oh and the heroin but everyone does that. ONLY SNORTING not shooting up, my God.

So, I’m getting over this cold, and a friend wanted to go out and celebrate the fact that I just got booked on a little tv appearance which I’ll tell my four readers about when it gets closer if it happens for sure! That’s cool right? Anyway, it’s a girlfriend of mine who’s pretty straight laced but then she invites another friend who likes to do a little coke (something I haven’t done in 20 years)and another “friend” of the coke friend who probably is the one who deals the coke. Now, I’m tired as I’ve already told you. And having given my daughter a bath, I’m in my bathrobe. Nobody wants to go out with a couple of coke fiends when they have a baby and are already in their bathrobe am I right? Can I get a whup whup? Here’s the kicker, while I’m deciding whether to even think about getting of the couch and into a pair of jeans to go meet the ladies at a Mexican restaurant about fifteen minutes away, my husband says, “please don’t get carried away and do any coke.” WHAT? Screech, record scratch.

I had to take a moment with that one before I even realized I was insulted. I said, “what does that mean?” And he said, “you have a tendency to get carried away.” What he was referring to was New Year’s Eve when I said it probably wouldn’t be a good idea for me to drink any hard liquor cause I was a little down and you know how when you are already a bit unbalanced a little hard booze can send you right over the cliff to crazy town and find you curled up in a fetal position whimpering about your childhood? But then again, it can lead to a good relaxing time. As soon as we got to our friends’ house where we were spending the night with our daughter, the hostess told me she was making pomegranate margaritas. Hey, I’m not made of stone. Those are my two favorite things. Together! So, yes I had quite a few and didn’t get carried away. My husband was the one who felt shitty the next morning but he claims it’s because he finished my drinks for me. So, this brings us back to the “don’t get carried away and do coke.”

I’m almost 40. I have a kid. I know there’s some crack ho’s out there but come on. I think the rest of us have enough sense to not go out for a drink and come home jacked up on coke. So, I said “that’s not so trusting. I am not one for peer pressure no matter and don’t really feel like being around people who do drugs anyway. In fact, I’m cancelling. How do you like that?” Which got me an apology and a run to El Pollo Loco. Luckily, I have my own stash of cocaine at home so it wasn’t a wasted evening.

Posted by Stefanie Wilder Taylor on February 4, 2006 4:02 amUncategorized16 comments  


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