Sunday, January 31, 2010

Just Because I Like This Picture.


This week is going to be so much better than last week. For Sure.

Friday, January 29, 2010

Complex, but fine.

Febrile seizures come in two funsize varieties: simple and complex.

At the beginning of the month, Olivia had two febrile seizures.  Simple, as we know now.  Even though anyone who witnesses a febrile seizure will tell you that it appears to be anything but simple.  Scary is more appropriate.

Febrile seizures are caused by fever.  Or, temperature, I guess.  Not necessarily how high, but how fast the temperature goes up.  It can happen at 100 degrees as easily as 104.  It all just depends on how fast the fever spikes.  A baby can have a febrile seizure and have a temperature of 101, if it spikes quickly from, say, 98 degrees.

Take Wednesday, for example. 

Olivia was happy as can be all morning.  She went to the sitter.  She played, ate, napped, and just generally made everyone cheerful.  As per usual.  From what I hear, she was happly playing with her friend Addison until she fell over onto her side and had a damn seizure.

I mean, it never seems OK to type that.  It doesn't seem OK to read it.  It definitely doesn't feel good to live it.

So Olivia had a seizure, and it lasted 3-4 minutes.  The sitter was fabulous in every way, and had to endure the entire ordeal and call 911 and everything.  When the paramedics arrived, Olivia stopped seizing but was still unresponsive and limp. 

To the emergency room, Jeeves!

I had just sat down at Panera and opened my laptop to finish up another Fan Page Friday post when I got the call.  I was 45 minutes from home, but I drove so fast that I got to the hospital shortly after Olivia.

What I saw was...well, quite literally complex.  A complex febrile seizure.

A simple febrile seizure happens once a day, lasts less than 5 minutes, and involves both sides of the body.  A complex febrile seizure involves more than one seizure per day, lasts more than five minutes, and may only involve one or both sides of the body.

Olivia was laying on the bed getting an IV.  Her entire body was shaking.  She didn't seem to notice me or hear me.  She was drooling.  She was grunting and her breathing was uneven.  Her heart was racing.  Her eyes and face twitched in rhythm with her entire body.

This went on for 8-10 minutes.  8-10 infuriating, panicky, horrible awful no good very bad minutes. 

Finally, they decided that she was not going to come out of it on her own, and they gave her Ativan.  She went still and fell asleep.  We were transferred to the Children's hospital to be admitted.

Long story short, she stayed over night, had an EEG and a CT scan - both normal - and we are home and fine.  Maybe I'll write more about it later, but right now I'm exhausted of my own complaints and just want to play with Olivia and watch chick flicks all day. 

After that first night, I snapped this picture of Olivia in her hospital baby jail:

That look of annoyance is not from a fever or seizure, but because the only cartoon I could find was Spongebob Squarepants.  And he's an asshole, which is apparent to even a baybee.

And here is Olivia today, tearing up the kitchen and sucking on some paprika while taking the skankiest smelling dump, evah:

Here's to January, kissing the fattest part of my ass. 
I didn't proof read this post, so hopefully it makes sense.

(I feel the need to tell you that I stole the whole "fattest part of my ass" thing from Jen Lancaster.)

Friday, January 22, 2010

Fan Page Friday: Formula Question

Yep, posts two days in a row.  It turns out that I simply cannot get enough of talking about mahself to the Internet!But at least today, I am going to try to help someone by talking about myself.  I like to think that makes it just a bit less narcissistic.

But.  Let's not forget about me!  ME! ME! ME!  You can be a fan of Maybe If You Just Relax by clicking here

Kristine asked me this question on the Facebook Fan Page:

I have an unrelated question for seems like ALL my freakin friends have only breastfed but I need to start supplementing so was wondering if I could ask you a bottle feeding question? Do you only make enough formula for the day in one big container- or several bottles AND do you throw out everything she doesn't drink within 24 hours? My husband thinks it's a scam so we buy more product but I don't know. It all smells gross to me and I can't tell if it's gone 'bad'....moral of the story...I gotta get out of this house and join a mommy group or something because right when I have things figured out. I don't.

Formula smells like garbage.  Literally.  And, have you tasted it?  Because I have, and I almost had to resort to licking the sidewalk to get the taste out of my mouth.

We've done different things with preparing formula.  We started out making a big jug and filling bottles as we needed.  Then, we switched to just making bottles.  And then this week, I just started making a jug again.   So I am really helpful as per usual.  And indecisive.  I have a lot of good qualities like that.

I really think it is personal preference.  If you have a pretty good idea how much formula she will eat during the day, it would be really easy to make a jug and just fill up a bottle when you need it.  If you're still trying to figure out exactly how much you need to supplement, it might be easier to make one bottle at a time.

We don't throw out formula after 24 hours.    I don't think it's a scam, I think it's a Cover Your Big Rich Corporate Ass situation.  A few times a week, we end up with a bottle that probably goes an extra 10 hours.And do you know what else?  We put formula back in the fridge if there is more than two ounces left in the bottle.  And we let her have her sippy if the formula has been out more than two hours.  Sometimes?  TWO AND A HALF!  And we miiiiiiiiiicrowaaaaaaaavvvve it - muwahahahahahaha!

* insert collective gasp here *

So - help Kristine out with your intelligent yet nonjudgmental comments.  What do you do at home?

Thursday, January 21, 2010

Dirty Thirty

I'm thirty today, and Mark gave me a mystery gift.  Betcha can't guess what this is! 

Surprise!  Tis a SHOVEL!  I KNOW!  I figured I'd just
tell you so you weren't up all night trying to figure it out.
Ur Welcum.

In return, I gave him a concussion.

There is a story to the shovel, and it so very obviously involves me.  Being smug and assholey during a blizzard.  Like, "oh, I'd love to help you shovel the foot of snow, but we only have one shovel.  So good luck with that I'll see you when you are done I will be on my computer dicking around on the Internet, bai."

Saturday, I lounged around the house.  I was so lazy that it was an accomplishment for me to put on a bra and take a shower.  I'm a trophy wife, you see, so it is important for me to...bathe. And bra.  I may have brushed my teeth but I'm not sure.  It is obvious now that I am incredibly sexy.  Don't let your husbands (or partners!) read this because they will all be very jealous and will expect equally high standards and maintaining all THIS is very difficult.  I do not want to burden you.

But anyway, it turns out that Mark had a surprise planned for me, and he told me later that he was really glad that I took a shower.

HA!  How sad.

So my best friend came with her husband and two big bags of Tokyo House.  Surprise!!  I don't think I've talked much about Tokyo House (except once, here) but it is delicious and deserves its own post.  Maybe I will get around to it before I am forty.  I don't know.  But it is Japanese food like none other and I ate enough to stuff a moose.  It was OK because I was wearing pajamas and so my belly was incredibly stretchy.  And it is so far away and such a long wait for a table, I only get to go once a year if I'm lucky.  Perfect birthday surprise!

It was fun.  AND there was cake!

It's my party, and I'll eat 75% of this cake if I want to.
(I wanted to.)
(I did.)

My other birthday gift is a nook, which is the perfect gift!  But it is on back order and won't come until mid-February.  Which is fine, because I will be so busy enjoying my shovel that I won't have time to read until then anyway. 

Then?  After I get my nook?  And it snows?  Mark will be able to shovel the driveway much faster now that he will have a shovel for each hand!


One Year Ago: And I Shall Call Him: Dr. Handlebar Mustache
Two Years Ago: Giddy Up!

Friday, January 15, 2010

Oh no no! Don't do this to Co Co!

How much do I love Conan O'Brien?  A LOT.  More than Joel McHale.  Slightly less than Target.  Slightly less than Mark. 

(Bet you wonder about the order of Mark and Target...)

I've never been a Leno fan.  I think he is cheesy and his humor is too outdated for a nighttime show - he's the same as Steve Martin to me.  Used to be funny.  Not so much anymore.  I always watched Letterman over Leno.  And when Conan took over, I ditched Letterman totally.

So anyway, I love this clip of Jimmy Kimmel totally slamming Leno on his own show.

Are you Team Jay?  Or Team Conan?

Thursday, January 14, 2010

Copious Amounts of Cute

Mah baybee is eleven months old.

Let's not blow smoke.  The past month was quite literally half sweet and half shit.  And I think if Olivia was old enough to toss around obscenities talk, she would wholeheartedly agree. 

The Shit:
Flu and Virus in one month.  Well goo goo ga ga (translation: that blows a big fat fattie).

Seizures.  Emergency Room.  Allergy to Antibiotic.  Enough said.

No!  Sleep!  For Anyone!  First, being sick.  We spent a lot of time together sleeping in her glider.  And by sleeping, I mean not sleeping at all even a little bit OH MY GOD.  And now the night waking has become a fun habit, two or three times a night.  And this problem could be solved if I could find a place to purchase a keg of beer.

It sucks that I had to use three vacation days while Olivia was sick.  Not that I really mind - I can't stand the thought of someone else comforting her when she is ill.  There wasn't a second that I considered leaving her.  I feel bad, though, that we will miss another three days that I won't get to spend acting like a moron to make her laugh.

Today, I wore a dress that ties in the back.  I realized, as I sat down on the toilet in the work bathroom stall, that the ends of the ties hung down far enough to dip into the toilet.  Luckily, I realized before I started to pee.  However (and we all know that there is a however), in my panic of Oh Shiz, Part of Mah Clothes Be In Da Toilet?  I whipped them out of the toilet.  And flung toilet water the entire way around the stall.  And on my face.  And in my hair.  It has nothing to do with Olivia, but it falls in the Shit category.

The Sweet:

Christmas.  New Years.  Ridiculous amounts of cute.  Copious, even.

Took some steps.  Climbed some stairs.  Further proof that she is small and mighty and will someday rule your world mwahahahahaha!

Despite the Sick of the Century, Olivia gained a pound.  A POUND!  A glorious gob of baybee fat.  Enough chub to jump back onto her growth curve.  Granted, she's 16.6 pounds at 11 months and 5th percentile and for all intents and purposes a preshus little peanut - but she's gaining weight and that makes me SQUEE! 

She loves for us to chase her.  And tickle her.  And nibble her fingers and toes.  She begs for food.  She interrupts conversations with loud noises to direct the attention in the proper direction (toward her).  She is dramatic, hates to be told no, you can't eat that dog food and choke.  Sorry.

Ever since she was sick, she's been really attached to me.  All about mommy.  Clinging to me, laughing at me, laying her head on me, showing me her toys.  More than normal. I secretly like the night waking.  I like to cuddle her and rock her to sleep and put her back.  Even though I'm probably making it worse, I don't care.

It's just really hard to be in a bad mood when Olivia is around.

Tuesday, January 12, 2010

Let's tone down the drama, shall we?

Olivia would like for me to tell you that she is feeling just fine, thankyouverymuch.

See? Am fine.

Remember when the Internet wuz worried about me?

Wuz no big deal.  Wuz akshully not seizure - wuz me perfecting my dance mooooves.

Wud be better dancer if I had Crocs.  But I do have a cup.  Iz Awesum.


Saturday, January 9, 2010

Again, with the seizures.

I mean, seriously. 

We had our pediatrician appointment at 11 on Thursday.  The morning went OK.  Olivia was fussy, but ate well and went down for a nap.   I had to wake her to leave for the doctor.  We got there right on time.  When I get out of the car, I always pop my head over the window like a total douche and try to surprise Olivia.  It usually makes her laugh.  This time, though, I found her foaming at the mouth.


So I wait it out.  It is about a minute or so until she stops.  I literally run into the pediatrician office, throw my credit card at the nurse and tell her about the seizure.  They let us go right back to an exam room. 

Apparently, the phrase "seizure in the car" grants you all sorts of cool privileges, like three nurses, and a doctor who runs into the room 30 seconds after you get there. 

Olivia's just miserable.  She is groaning and writhing and is burning up with a 104.1 temperature.  The normally laid-back pediatrician says she is totally uncomfortable with the way she looks - get thee to an ER immediately.  She'll call and let them know you're coming, and that they might want to consider a spinal tap.

I'm an ugly crier.  I spend the next 10 minutes trying not to cry, just trying to wait until I got to the parking lot at least before I lose my shit.  Waiting for confirmation of where to go, and waiting for a dose of Tylenol.  Texting everyone. 

We leave.  It takes about 20 minutes to get to the ER.  I speed.  I dare someone to pull me over. 

You assume that when your doctor tells you to go immediately, and calls ahead, that you will be seen quickly.  And we were, in fact, seen - 2 hours later. 

There were barfing kids everywhere.  Olivia never cries, just dozes and groans.  She eats a little.  Her temperature goes down to 102 and that is surprisingly thrilling considering her recent heat wave.  Mark gets lost in the clusterfuck of one way streets by the hospital but we're still waiting by the time he gets there. 

A woman is talking about how her sister's babies are too skinny and it's disgusting, and how that's probably why they are always sick.  She keeps feeding her sick kid big pieces of chocolate so he won't cry.  I want to kick her in the throat, and I also feel guilty for not being able to fatten Olivia up.  Maybe it is why she's sick right now.

I feel physically ill.  I wonder if I can vomit in the trash can while holding Olivia.  I doubt it, but there is already vomit all over the place, so maybe I can just vomit on someone else's pile and nobody will know. Maybe I will vomit on Skinny Baybee Hater Laydee.

We get back to our room and Olivia is still miserable.  We meet with a McSteamy-looking doctor.  He tells us that our pediatrician suggested a spinal tap to check for meningitis.  He  is going to meet with the attending and they will come back and let us know. 

Olivia falls asleep.  McSteamy comes back with another doctor, and Olivia smiles at them. The little shit hasn't smiled all day.  She knows a handsome doctor when she sees one.  But he has on a wedding ring, and so she just goes back to sleep.  McAverage-Looking Attending decides that no spinal tap will happen because meningitis baybees don't smile.

Catheter.  A little bacteria in her urine.  Treating a Urinary Tract Infection, but fairly certain that she Just Has A Virus.  Realize that there is another saying that is as infuriating as Maybe If You Just Relax.  Consider changing blog name, but am afraid that people will think I have herpes.

(I don't have herpes.)

We are discharged.  I realize that it is a fucking blizzard outside.  It takes me and Olivia two hours and ten minutes to make the drive home, which usually takes 25 minutes.  Olivia doesn't make a peep the entire way.  I hope that she's OK.

She sleeps all night.  Still has a fever Friday morning.  Fussy all day.  No apetite.  Spits out her antibiotics, for no reason because they taste really good, yum, I should get some of these.  We survive the day. 

I start dinner.  Shake and Bake pork chops because I am fancy.  Obviously. 

Mark calls with good news and bad news.  Good news: out of work early.  Bad news: a semi lost its spare tire on the highway, and Mark hit it.  New car is fucked.  I forgot to change our deductable.  It is $500. 

Repairs will cost $460.

Of course they will.

* waves white flag *

Today is Saturday.  Olivia has a rash all over her back.  This makes me happy, because she probably has Roseola and not the plague or herpes or whatever. 

(She does not have herpes.)

Send beer.

Thursday, January 7, 2010

It's probably good that I don't live in Reno

OR: Why you should never say that everything is boring and there is nothing to blog about.

We spent last night in the emergency room.  Not because a button burst off my pants and blasted Mark in the eye.  But because Olivia was playing a new game - Bet I Can Get My Mom To Call 911.

She's really good at it.

Yesterday, I was wearing my scummiest clothes and on my way to the gym, when my sitter called to tell me that Olivia had a temperature of 102.5.  So I turned around and went back to work to finish some things up so that I could get my little ball of fire.  I'm  not going to lie, I would be the best In-Pajamas worker.  Ever.

Things were OK in the afternoon.  Olivia clearly felt like shit didn't feel well, and took a 2.5 hour nap in the afternoon to go with her 3 hour nap in the morning.  At bedtime it was time for more Motrin, so I took her temperature first so that I could see what we were dealing with.

And that's exactly when she had a seizure.

I'm sure you know, if  you read this blog with any regularity, that Olivia is in constant motion.  From the time she wakes to the time she drops off to sleep.  So when she stopped moving I knew something was wrong, because she hates having a thermometer up her butt.  I can't imagine why.

She looked...stoned.*  I think.  I've never been stoned mahself.  But not Dude Where's My Car stoned.  More like took 12 too many Valium stoned.  And her left arm was jerking around in the air while the rest of her body was frozen.  I didn't connect the dots just yet.  I looked down at the thermometer. 


So I pick her up, because I am not smart and have never spent my spare time reading up on febrile seizures.  And she was totally limp.  She was grunting, and a constant stream of drool was running out of her mouth.  Her eyes were totally glossed over and wouldn't focus on anything.  Her heart was beating so hard that I could feel it against my chest where I held her.  She had a bowel movement. 

Mark very calmly called 911 like a champ, and within seconds they were at our house.  And if I was to ever blatantly make out with someone right in front of Mark?  It would be these guys.  I've never been so willing to stick my tongue in someone's ear (well, maybe the anesthesiologist in L&D).  I guess competence is a turn on for me when mah baybee is seizing and I'm freaking out. 

They were nothing like Reno 911, which is what automatically pops into my head when I think 911 - even when there is a real life actual emergency.  I see this in my mind:

They offered to take us to the ER, but we decided to drive ourselves.  Olivia had returned to normalish.  So they left and we started to get ready to go.  It was not without much vomit from Olivia.  MUCH vomit.   Much vomit right into my face, onto the kitchen floor, into the sink.  Poor, sweet, sick baybee.  You can't even get upset. 

Plus, the dogs ate most of it before we could get to it, so win, win, win I say.

This is getting pretty lengthy and I am exhausted, so I'll finish later. 

SPOILER ALERT: everything appears to be fine.  But people watching in the ER warrants a full description, plus we go to the pediatrician today at 11:30 so I'll have a full report next time.

*2010 is starting off with a bang.  On Saturday, the dog groomer cut Milo's tongue down the middle** and we had to have an emergency visit with sedation and stitches and antibiotics OH FUCKING MY.  And he was stoned that entire night.  Have you ever seen  a stoned dog?  Not even awesome at all.

**She claims that she had no idea, and that there were a few drops of blood on his face so she thought maybe he bit his tongue.  I told her I found that a bit hard to believe, since he started spewing blood from his face on our ride home and was barking something that sounded like REDRUM.***

***You bet your sweet ass I'm making them pay the $180 medical bill.  If she hadn't played dumb and just told me the truth and suggested a visit to the vet?  I'd understand that accidents happen and just let it go.  But I'm incapable of bullshit and so I'm sending her the bill.  She has agreed to pay it, but we'll see.****

****I'm more than willing to cut her tongue down the middle, tell her that she must have bit it, and call it even. 

Monday, January 4, 2010

Imagine me shouting dirty things at you as you walk by...

Because I'm doing a little construction, blog-wise. 

And I like to yell dirty things.

I'm afraid I am going to pull the Woe Is Me, Olivia Kept Me Up All Night, Bring Coffee card.  I probably slept a total of 3 hours last night, and those hours were in the glider holding a whiny miserable teething (or not) baybee while my neck nearly snapped in two.  Followed by work, and a workout because holy hell my pants simply do not fit.

I planned to write about my new year's goals, but woe and tired and death.  And coffee breath.

What I'm trying to get at is that it is one of my new year's goals to write more on this blog.  And for everyone's sake, I hope it results in better quality than this horrible pile of brain vomit.  But today you get brain vomit, and hopefully it isn't contagious.

So, perhaps I will get to my point sometime this century, eh?

Maybe If You Just Relax has a Facebook Page, and you can be my Best Friend Forevah (on Facebook) by clicking here.  Post on my wall, stalk my normal person page, or suggest blog topics.  You can tell me you hate me, but that's not nice and also I don't give a shit.

I had to put word verification back on the comments because I was getting all sorts of VIAGARA MICROSOFT SEND ME YOUR BANK INFO AND GOOD DAY SIR types of comments on all my archives.  So, yes.  It's assholey, but it works and that is all.
I changed my header, added a signature, and plan to add links to past years posts every week.  This is mostly for my amusement.  My grandma writes in journals every day - has for many many years - and I love it when she calls with a funny story about me being completely adorable or possibly inappropriate when I was 5 or whatever. 
So that explains the links.  Now you will be able to sleep tonight.
Hopefully I am able to sleep tonight, too.  One more sleepless night and I might start sending out VIAGARA MICROSOFT SEND ME YOUR BANK INFO AND GOOD DAY SIR emails just to stay awake.

Friday, January 1, 2010

The Ghosts of New Years Past

Happy New Year, Everyone!  2010 has some big shoes to fill, because 2009 rocked my socks.

I could sit here and write a big summary of the year, and pour my heart out to the Internet. But why?  When I can tell it all with this:

It's a new year, and I think it will be fabulous.  Giddy up!

Tell me, my Internet friends - are you sad to see 2009 go?  Are you happy/intimidated/ready for 2010?

1 Year Ago: Jennepper's New Years Rockin Eve
2 Years Ago: Goodbye 2007