Triage Nurse: So, what's going on with this little cutie?
Mrs. D-Zo: She went all Linda Blair on me.
Triage Nurse: Aw, poor thing. OK...so what else?
Mrs. D-Zo: Green puke isn't enough?
Triage Nurse: Are there any other symptoms or changes in her behavior? (The Bean coyly grins at the nurse and giggles.) She seems pretty happy.
Mrs. D-Zo: Well, that's a change. She's normally a miserable git...she's also been lethargic.
Triage Nurse: Oh. That's not good. She's been spacey and can't focus on you?
Mrs. D-Zo: No...I would've said that if I meant that. She's lethargic. Sleeping. A lot.
Triage Nurse: That's not what lethargic means. It means not active physically or mentally, but awake.
Mrs. D-Zo: (Under breath) Hate. You.
Triage Nurse: So...you brought me a happy baby that sleeps?
Since I hate to act like a typical first-time mom, having it thrown in my face so bluntly and accurately was a big blow to my ego. To be fair, I called the pediatrician before hauling The Bean to the emergency room and they were all "Bring her in. STAT!"
But in the interest of full disclosure, we called from the emergency room parking lot.
New post in which I don't discuss vomit coming soon.
Showing posts with label Sick Baby. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Sick Baby. Show all posts
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
Thursday, November 10, 2011
Holy Crap. That Sucked.
It's exceptionally jolting to be awoken by a vomit shower.
You see, The Bean is 4 months old now. And back in my blissfully naive "I'm so going to rock this being a parent thing" pregnancy days, she was to be sleeping in her own room by now. And by now I mean something like 2 months ago.
But then I realized, I liked sleep. And I liked my child a whole lot more when she got sleep.
So instead of trying to master the sleep training thing, we sleep at night. And I have to admit that we seem to be moving further and further away from independent sleeping and closer into the co-sleeping camp.
The Bean is still waking up at around 3 AM for a night feeding and I've gotten lazy. I used to get up, feed her, rock her back to sleep and put her in the Pack-n-Play (which has done very little packing and instead has set up permanent residence in our bedroom).
That's what I used to do.
Now I lift her out of the Pack-n-Play, plop her on the bed next to me whip out a boob and everyone falls asleep happily in bed.
Happily until vomit explosions happen.
I did well for a first-time mom. I waited a whole five hours before calling the doctor demanding a new, non-puking baby. Or at least a baby that would puke on the nanny and not me (seriously, the nanny didn't get hit once while I was in Tropical Storm Vomit).
Apparently, there are no refunds on these things, but there is Pedialyte.
I'm getting Christmas presents for the makers of Pedialyte. And I don't care how terrible it might be for my child (because I'm sure someone out there is ready to strip me of my hippie mom card since Pedialyte is not local, organic OR sustainable). It could be made out of kitten buttholes and dirty toenails and I would still give it to my daughter because after she drank it -- there was a noticeable absence of puking all over me.
And that's totally sustainable in my book.
We're on the mend. We're not 100% yet as sometimes I get overzealous and give The Bean just a little too much boob juice (one ounce at a serving is a cruel joke to play on a starving infant and she is not afraid to let you know how pissy it makes her) and we end up covered in the less-than-awesome sauce.
So our current status is:
Yea Parenthood!!!
You see, The Bean is 4 months old now. And back in my blissfully naive "I'm so going to rock this being a parent thing" pregnancy days, she was to be sleeping in her own room by now. And by now I mean something like 2 months ago.
But then I realized, I liked sleep. And I liked my child a whole lot more when she got sleep.
So instead of trying to master the sleep training thing, we sleep at night. And I have to admit that we seem to be moving further and further away from independent sleeping and closer into the co-sleeping camp.
The Bean is still waking up at around 3 AM for a night feeding and I've gotten lazy. I used to get up, feed her, rock her back to sleep and put her in the Pack-n-Play (which has done very little packing and instead has set up permanent residence in our bedroom).
That's what I used to do.
Now I lift her out of the Pack-n-Play, plop her on the bed next to me whip out a boob and everyone falls asleep happily in bed.
Happily until vomit explosions happen.
I did well for a first-time mom. I waited a whole five hours before calling the doctor demanding a new, non-puking baby. Or at least a baby that would puke on the nanny and not me (seriously, the nanny didn't get hit once while I was in Tropical Storm Vomit).
Apparently, there are no refunds on these things, but there is Pedialyte.
I'm getting Christmas presents for the makers of Pedialyte. And I don't care how terrible it might be for my child (because I'm sure someone out there is ready to strip me of my hippie mom card since Pedialyte is not local, organic OR sustainable). It could be made out of kitten buttholes and dirty toenails and I would still give it to my daughter because after she drank it -- there was a noticeable absence of puking all over me.
And that's totally sustainable in my book.
We're on the mend. We're not 100% yet as sometimes I get overzealous and give The Bean just a little too much boob juice (one ounce at a serving is a cruel joke to play on a starving infant and she is not afraid to let you know how pissy it makes her) and we end up covered in the less-than-awesome sauce.
So our current status is:
Yea Parenthood!!!
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