cupcakes and zombies

because cupcakes are yummy and people aren't. unless you're a zombie.

Archive of ‘Brandon’ category

How to give your kid medicine the wrong way….

So…let’s say your almost 8 month old has a nasty old double ear infection that’s affecting his eyes as well and the nice doc puts him on a really strong antibiotic. Then, let’s say this 8 month old HATES the way it tastes. Like HATES HATES HATES the way it tastes. Oh, but, you don’t know that yet.

So, you try to give him his first dose. It clearly says to give with food. You give him his regular 6 oz bottle. Then you start to give him his medicine. By start, I mean you put the medicine dropper in his mouth and he gags. So, you take it out. Then you try again, because, well, that was just a coincidence, right?  Nope. No it was not. Puke. Volumes, so much more than could possibly come from this little body. Ok, try again tomorrow.

Somehow your husband manages to get the full dose in no problem. Cool. Baby has a relatively good day at school, awesome. Baby pukes a bit in the afternoon and after the medicine at night, well, at least he sort of had one dose, right? You figure he’s draining all this gross stuff in his head, why wouldn’t it make him puke?

Fast forward to morning. Lots of gagging, coughing, choking, saline and suctioning. He only eats 2 oz. Then he pukes. And falls asleep. Husband tries to give him his medicine, but, more gagging. Husband tells daycare you think the antibiotic is making him a little queasy so please, for the love of unicorns, don’t feed him his whole bottle at once. They feed him his whole bottle at once. He pukes. On the Director. Daycare calls. You must pick up your son, we think the antibiotic is making him sick. Get angry calls from husband. Get frantic calls from husband. Puke, everywhere, gross, lots, over and over. Baby doesn’t look so good. Leave work to take baby to doctor. Doctor thinks antibiotic is making him sick. Interesting. So do I. Switch antibiotic to the yummy pink stuff.

Feed baby 4 oz. He happily drinks it all. It stays down. Get yummy pink medicine. Put dropper in baby’s mouth. Baby gags and spits up bottle all over jeans. Copious amounts of baby ick. Think rationally. You probably just put the dropper too far in the back of baby’s mouth so try again. But first, take off gross jeans. Put baby on lap and try again. Puke. All. Over. Bare. Legs. Gross. Disgusting. Horrid. How can one 16 pound baby make so much gross stuff.

Greet Husband and Older Son at door with gross pukey baby and no pants. Hand gross pukey baby to Husband with medicine and say you’re taking a shower. Take shower. Husband tries to get yummy pink medicine into baby. He pukes. Try to trick baby by mixing medicine with pear puree. Not fooling baby. Half an hour later Husband has succeeded in getting medicine into baby by shoving a spoon into his mouth and quickly replacing with pacifier so he sucks it down. Baby not happy. Husband not happy. Momma not happy. Older Son, happily playing with Baby’s toys.

Set alarm for half hour earlier tomorrow to account for spoonfeeding baby medicine “hidden” in food. Rethink and set alarm for 45 minutes earlier to allow time for a shower. Just in case.

Please don’t pee on me…..

Today I was peed on by my littlest one. Twice. On two separate and distinct occasions. I mean, seriously, he peed in the pocket of my sweatshirt. How is that even possible? He got my shirt too, right at the wrist. Its bad enough that I hate damp wrists, but to be damp with baby pee?? Intolerable. Then I had to sit there in the doctor’s office, after I cleaned up the puddle on their table, and be damp. And try not to put my hands in my pocket accidentally.  Yeah, yeah, fault, right? Well try to juggle a wiggly hungry naked baby when you left his spare diaper in your bag out of arm’s reach.

So, then I guess he realized he didn’t do a thorough job and while I was assisting with a diaper change as my dear husband was trying to track down where the 2 massive boxes of 600 baby wipes could have disappeared to, he peed all over my pants, the kitchen floor, and my shoes. Its not like I could have just put him down. So, I had to keep holding him while he did his best impression of a certain infamous bronze statue in Brussels. If you don’t know what that is, look it up and consider it something new you learned today (you’re welcome). Since I was still wearing my already peed on other clothes, I figured it was a win for me. I mean, its not like I changed into clean clothes and then got peed on. So….score.

I gave him a bath. Which is great, because somehow the poor second child gets bathed like this:

“Frank, when was the last time we gave the baby a bath?”

“Huh, I’m not sure.”

“Ok, we should give him a bath tonight.”

And then we proceed to not give him a bath. Don’t get me wrong, he’s not dirty. He’s just washed really well with wipes. Which is why we have enough to clean a herd of baby elephants. Hey! Did you know that another term for a herd of elephants is a “parade”? Really, its true. Look at that, you just learned something else today. You should celebrate with a beer. And while you’re at it, have one for me, I’m too tired to drink. All that will happen is I’ll try really hard, then get sad as it gets warm. Eventually I’ll give up and dump the remainder and go to bed feeling old. And tired.

Oh, by the way. Do you think I’ve changed out of my peed on clothes?

No. No, I have not. I’ll get to it. Eventually. Only because I can’t sleep in these jeans. Or sneakers. Oh, and because that’s totally gross and I’d never do a thing like that out of tired desperation to possibly get 4 straight hours of sleep. Nope. Never happened before. I swear.