Where to begin?
About a month ago people started complaining that they couldn’t hear me when I was using my cell phone. The phone worked fine, except for the fact that people said it sounded like I was in a wind tunnel. I went to the store, and the store people told me that the phone had gotten wet (perhaps when one of the girls was using it as a teething toy?) and that I needed to buy a new one. I qualified for a discount on a new phone, and after some research, I found out that I could purchase a refurbished iPhone for $99. Cool, right? WRONG!
Refubs aren’t sold in the store, so I had to purchase it online. But when I tried to purchase the phone online I was told I needed to change my phone number. Which I wasn’t going to do. Plus, the store manager told me that changing my phone number wasn’t necessary. So I called AT&T customer service and spent 45 minutes on the phone with a lovely agent who seemed as though she genuinely wanted to help me. Eventually we worked things out, but the system wouldn’t let her process the order. Apparently I needed to also purchase a special data package for the iPhone. . .but the system was undergoing an upgrade and the package I needed wasn’t available (the system is deisgned so that you can't purchase the phone without a data plan). The agent put all of this in the computer and suggested I call back in a few days. And she apologized profusely. And she might have even meant it.
So I called back yesterday to order my new phone. I spent ONE HOUR AND 45 MINUTES on the phone with AT&T? Why? Because they don’t know their ass from their elbow. Here are the highlights of that conversation:
I asked to speak to a manager.
I can get the iPhone, but it’s not in stock.
I asked to speak to a manager (again).
The iPhone was magically in stock, and I was told I could order it.
I asked to speak to a manager (again).
Half-way through the ordering process it was revealed that I was also purchasing an international data package. Which was twice as expensive as the package I wanted and needed.
I asked to speak to a manager (again).
I was told that due to a “systems upgrade” the data package I wanted wasn’t available and that I should call back another day.
I accused AT&T of pulling a bait and switch and asked to speak to a goddamn manager. Again.
And then I got a manager. Who was utterly useless. Surprise!
By this point I was really trying hard not to completely lose my shit on the phone. And while I appreciate the service agents apologizing over and over and over again, the only thing that was going to make me feel better at this point was getting my f***king phone and not having to talk to the service agent. I demanded that they do something to compensate me for my time. All they offered was a transfer to customer care and a $50 credit. They did offer to overnight the phone to me, but I was going to have to pay for it and they would file for me to be reimbursed. Not my idea of going above and beyond.
Then yet ANOTHER service manager got on the phone. . .thinking they can “fix” this problem. And guess what. . . .they couldn’t get me the phone because of a systems upgrade! No shit? Where have I heard that before?
I am not one to give up easily and I am pretty determined to get what I want. But after almost two hours on the phone I pulled out the white flag and surrendered like France.
Out of desperation I went to the AT&T store and spoke with the manager. Who offered to call AT&T online on my behalf and work out the problem with me. Five minutes into the call I had an epiphany: This was bullshit. And perhaps this was G-d’s way of telling me that I didn’t need an iPhone.
And that my friends, is how I came to own the new Samsung Jack. Doesn’t have a built in iPod or Google Maps, but I think I will live (barely).
And AT&T online still sucks.
Saturday, May 30, 2009
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Noah and the Foxettes
After such a shitty day, how can looking at this picture NOT make me smile???
Abbie, Noah and Hannah!
Abbie, Noah and Hannah!
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Hannah-ecdotes!
The cribs in the infant room have Plexiglas over the rails to prevent kids from sticking their hands/legs through them. And, presumably, to prevent other kids from passing toys to one another. Hannah was confused by this, as she got on up on all fours and tried to crawl her way out of the crib. . . while bouncing her head against the Plexiglas at the same time. Didn’t seem to dawn on her that the large, firm object preventing her movement wasn’t going anywhere.
Later in the day. . .
The teacher was packing up some classroom items and using an empty Huggie’s box. One of the BIG boxes you get when you purchase diapers in bulk from Costco (wonder which family the box came from??). Since her sister was asleep and the other baby in the room was busy, Hannah started “playing” with the baby on the box. She was reaching out and trying to touch him. I guess she was waiting for the baby on the box to respond?
I'm assuming we can rule out Harvard.
Here is my girl from today. . . eating edamame!
Later in the day. . .
The teacher was packing up some classroom items and using an empty Huggie’s box. One of the BIG boxes you get when you purchase diapers in bulk from Costco (wonder which family the box came from??). Since her sister was asleep and the other baby in the room was busy, Hannah started “playing” with the baby on the box. She was reaching out and trying to touch him. I guess she was waiting for the baby on the box to respond?
I'm assuming we can rule out Harvard.
Here is my girl from today. . . eating edamame!
Saturday, May 23, 2009
Twins update! Twins Update!
Since their 9-month check-up was yesterday, I figured it was time for a LONG overdue update on the girls.
As of May 22, 2009:
Hannah Eve
18 pounds, 3 ounces (50th percentile)
28 inches (55th percentile)
Abigail Eden
17 pounds, 8 ounces (25th percentile)
28 1/4 inches (55th percentile)
What is interesting, to me at least, is that Hannah was the smaller twin at birth. Since then, she has always been the bigger twin. Similarly, Abbie was the shorter twin at birth and now she is the taller twin. Our pediatrician said that they look great and that they are verbally advanced. I guess the apple didn't fall too far from that tree. They babble constantly, and they have clearly mastered "mamama" and "dadadadada." And while I was skeptical as to whether or not they understood the difference between "mama" and "dada," the more I watch them in action the more I think they know the difference.
Hannah and Abbie both are little slow in mastering their gross motor skills, but that is to be expected because they were premature. They're hitting their milestones, but they are hitting them on their own schedule. Dan and I have been absolutely amazed at how much they have started doing just in the last two weeks:
Hannah can move from all-fours to the sitting position and in the last 48 hours she has mastered crawling. . . true crawling where she gets on her knees and alternates between moving her legs and her arms. Abbie can crawl too, but Abbie "army crawls" across the room which is different. Both girls also also working on pulling themselves up to the standing position. They get about 3/4 of the way there, but with some more practice they should have it soon. Needless to say, the girls are very mobile. In this area, Abbie is more adventurous. . .and fast! They have also started swimming which has been a lot of fun. Hannah is happy just floating in the water (she has one of these (http://www.shoppaddock.com/swimways-baby-spring-float.html) whereas Abbie (like her brother) is a little fish trying to kick and drink the water.
Finger food is their new favorite toy. Put them in a highchair with a handful of Cheerio's and they're good to go. Hannah especially will eat anything you give her. Especially bagels and kosher pickles (she is a Jewish girl after all). They love their meals. Fruits, pasta, mac n' cheese, graham crackers, cheese, pancakes, you name it!
Their personalities are also starting to come through more and more each day. Hannah is very mellow and laid-back. She's just happy. It's sometimes a bit harder to draw her out, but she is just a very zen-like baby. Abbie not only looks like her older brother, but her personality resembles his too. She has a lot of fire in her and always has a smile (or smirk!) for you. She also has a temper and has earned the nickmame "crabby-Abbie." When she gets pissed, watch out! But overall, they are both good girls and very good babies. Plus they sleep through the night. Always a plus.
And now, we bring you the picture portion of the post. . . .
Hannah
Abbie
Together
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
Jews in the Hood
You know what’s REALLY annoying? Geeky Jewish men trying to talk to other geeky Jewish men like they grew up together in the hood.
In addition to being the last day of school, it was also pre-K graduation. Which meant that besides all of the other parents who pick up late (like me) the place was swarming with parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, siblings and god knows who else who I am sure started camping outside the auditorium at 10am this morning to ensure the best possible seat to bear witness to little Kaileighah’s pre-kindergarten commencement.
As I was walking into the building I saw your typical Jewish preschool dad sitting on one of the benches: mid/late thirties, tan suit, wire glasses, blackberry glued to his ear. Sorta good looking, but in a nebbishy, “nice Jewish boy” sort of way. Probably works in finance or sales. Anyway, he was futzing with his phone when he saw another dad walking into the building. Guy put his phone down, looked up and said, “what up dawg!”
Really? Has he been embracing his inner Randy Jackson from American Idol? And exactly what hood did this guy grow up in? Scottsdale? Northbrook/Skokie/Glenview (IL)? Westchester (NY)?
Yo yo yo. . . I get that these guys were down with one another being that they both had kids graduating pre-K and because they are in the same Tribe and all. But I guarantee you that the closest that this guys has EVER been to the ghetto was the time his roommate’s dad got him floor seats to the Knicks and they got lost in Harlem on the way to Madison Square Garden.
**Dan doesn’t like this entry because he thinks I am making fun of his friends. My was raised in the hood of Fort Wayne, Indiana. . .aka “The Fort.”
In addition to being the last day of school, it was also pre-K graduation. Which meant that besides all of the other parents who pick up late (like me) the place was swarming with parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, siblings and god knows who else who I am sure started camping outside the auditorium at 10am this morning to ensure the best possible seat to bear witness to little Kaileighah’s pre-kindergarten commencement.
As I was walking into the building I saw your typical Jewish preschool dad sitting on one of the benches: mid/late thirties, tan suit, wire glasses, blackberry glued to his ear. Sorta good looking, but in a nebbishy, “nice Jewish boy” sort of way. Probably works in finance or sales. Anyway, he was futzing with his phone when he saw another dad walking into the building. Guy put his phone down, looked up and said, “what up dawg!”
Really? Has he been embracing his inner Randy Jackson from American Idol? And exactly what hood did this guy grow up in? Scottsdale? Northbrook/Skokie/Glenview (IL)? Westchester (NY)?
Yo yo yo. . . I get that these guys were down with one another being that they both had kids graduating pre-K and because they are in the same Tribe and all. But I guarantee you that the closest that this guys has EVER been to the ghetto was the time his roommate’s dad got him floor seats to the Knicks and they got lost in Harlem on the way to Madison Square Garden.
**Dan doesn’t like this entry because he thinks I am making fun of his friends. My was raised in the hood of Fort Wayne, Indiana. . .aka “The Fort.”
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Humiliating
Sorry for the serious post, but I have a few things to get off my chest.
Maimonides, (or Rambam), was a 12th century Jewish scholar and physician. Rambam wrote a code of Jewish law (the Mishnah Torah), based on the Rabbinic oral tradition. Rambam organized the different levels of tzedakah (charity) into a list from the least to the most honorable.
8. When donations are given grudgingly.
7. When one gives less than he should, but does so cheerfully.
6. When one gives directly to the poor upon being asked.
5. When one gives directly to the poor without being asked.
4. When the recipient is aware of the donor's identity, but the donor does not know the identity of the recipient.
3. When the donor is aware of the recipient's identity, but the recipient is unaware of the source.
2. When the donor and recipient are unknown to each other.
1. The highest form of charity is to help sustain a person before they become impoverished by offering a substantial gift in a dignified manner, or by extending a suitable loan, or by helping them find employment or establish themselves in business so as to make it unnecessary for them to become dependent on others.
We're in the process of applying for financial assistance to help meet the demands of our hefty preschool tuition bill. We are not poor. We have jobs, and are extraordinarily grateful for them. We make a good income, but like everyone else, we have bills that need to be paid. And daycare for three is not cheap, no matter where you go. But the cost of three in daycare is absolutely killing us financially and we need help. At the same time, it is not feasible for us to live on one income. It is what it is.
The process of applying for assistance has been humiliating and degrading. We have no idea who is on the decision making committee. We have no idea what they look at in making their decisions because there is zero transparency. However, the committee knows everything there is to know about our finances, income, expenses, assets, and liabilities. They know what we paid for our house and how much it's worth. They know the make and models of our cars and their value. They know everything from what we pay for groceries each month to how much we pay for our cell phones to how much credit card debt we have. We've submitted household budgets, pay stubs, tax returns, and a personal statement. And for the record, I don't know a single person who builds their budget using their gross monthly income. As we were asked to do (was the federal/state tax code abolished without us knowing?). Some of these documents have been submitted more than once. Then we had to complete yet another form explaining our finances where we had to "declare under penalty of perjury that the above information is correct."
We have not been treated with dignity as we've been literally forced to beg. We offered to work and donate our time in exchange for assistance. . . because in these challenging economic times agencies and individuals need to be collaborating and sharing resources. But our offer was summarily ignored. We, the intended recipient, have been forced to make our lives an open book. Whereas the donor took full advantage of the luxury and comfort that comes from remaining anonymous.
It sickens me (and yet tragically doesn't suprise me) that a Jewish agency can have such callous disregard for the people they are charged to serve, the mission they have been agreed to uphold, and the history that (allegedly) drives the work. I love the preschool for what it has given my children, and I loathe the agency they represent. Walking into the building makes me physically ill and I can feel my blood pressure rise as there are people I can no longer look in the eye out of shame that they know as much as they do about our life.
I have to believe that on some level Maimonides is rolling over in his grave at thought of what his legacy has become.
Maimonides, (or Rambam), was a 12th century Jewish scholar and physician. Rambam wrote a code of Jewish law (the Mishnah Torah), based on the Rabbinic oral tradition. Rambam organized the different levels of tzedakah (charity) into a list from the least to the most honorable.
8. When donations are given grudgingly.
7. When one gives less than he should, but does so cheerfully.
6. When one gives directly to the poor upon being asked.
5. When one gives directly to the poor without being asked.
4. When the recipient is aware of the donor's identity, but the donor does not know the identity of the recipient.
3. When the donor is aware of the recipient's identity, but the recipient is unaware of the source.
2. When the donor and recipient are unknown to each other.
1. The highest form of charity is to help sustain a person before they become impoverished by offering a substantial gift in a dignified manner, or by extending a suitable loan, or by helping them find employment or establish themselves in business so as to make it unnecessary for them to become dependent on others.
We're in the process of applying for financial assistance to help meet the demands of our hefty preschool tuition bill. We are not poor. We have jobs, and are extraordinarily grateful for them. We make a good income, but like everyone else, we have bills that need to be paid. And daycare for three is not cheap, no matter where you go. But the cost of three in daycare is absolutely killing us financially and we need help. At the same time, it is not feasible for us to live on one income. It is what it is.
The process of applying for assistance has been humiliating and degrading. We have no idea who is on the decision making committee. We have no idea what they look at in making their decisions because there is zero transparency. However, the committee knows everything there is to know about our finances, income, expenses, assets, and liabilities. They know what we paid for our house and how much it's worth. They know the make and models of our cars and their value. They know everything from what we pay for groceries each month to how much we pay for our cell phones to how much credit card debt we have. We've submitted household budgets, pay stubs, tax returns, and a personal statement. And for the record, I don't know a single person who builds their budget using their gross monthly income. As we were asked to do (was the federal/state tax code abolished without us knowing?). Some of these documents have been submitted more than once. Then we had to complete yet another form explaining our finances where we had to "declare under penalty of perjury that the above information is correct."
We have not been treated with dignity as we've been literally forced to beg. We offered to work and donate our time in exchange for assistance. . . because in these challenging economic times agencies and individuals need to be collaborating and sharing resources. But our offer was summarily ignored. We, the intended recipient, have been forced to make our lives an open book. Whereas the donor took full advantage of the luxury and comfort that comes from remaining anonymous.
It sickens me (and yet tragically doesn't suprise me) that a Jewish agency can have such callous disregard for the people they are charged to serve, the mission they have been agreed to uphold, and the history that (allegedly) drives the work. I love the preschool for what it has given my children, and I loathe the agency they represent. Walking into the building makes me physically ill and I can feel my blood pressure rise as there are people I can no longer look in the eye out of shame that they know as much as they do about our life.
I have to believe that on some level Maimonides is rolling over in his grave at thought of what his legacy has become.
Friday, May 8, 2009
Anatomy lessons
Tonight I bribed Noah to take a bath by telling him that Stephen Drew (shortstop for the Diamondbacks) takes a bath the night before every game. He bought it. Did you know that Connor Jackson (Noah's other favorite player) takes a shower before every game? Trust me, I will be adding this to my arsenal too.
Noah then got naked and started yanking his penis for me. Really. This is further proof that no matter what I do, no matter how precious my beautiful son is, at the end of the day he still will grow up to be like every other man I know. Then he lifted it up and started pointing at other parts of his manhood. All the while asking me, "Mommy, what's this?"
This is when I called Dan in to the room.
I will do many things for my kids. I don't do penises.
And while we're on the subject, why isn't the plural of penis, "peni?"
**Upon reflection, I am starting to wonder if talking about my son's Manhood the Internet might be the single action that drives him into a lifetime of therapy.
Noah then got naked and started yanking his penis for me. Really. This is further proof that no matter what I do, no matter how precious my beautiful son is, at the end of the day he still will grow up to be like every other man I know. Then he lifted it up and started pointing at other parts of his manhood. All the while asking me, "Mommy, what's this?"
This is when I called Dan in to the room.
I will do many things for my kids. I don't do penises.
And while we're on the subject, why isn't the plural of penis, "peni?"
**Upon reflection, I am starting to wonder if talking about my son's Manhood the Internet might be the single action that drives him into a lifetime of therapy.
Thursday, May 7, 2009
Why I hate macaroni and cheese
To me, there is NOTHING more revolting that elbow macaroni drenched in gooey-greasy cheese.
I've never been a lover of cheese. When I was Noah's age I was fascinated with the Kraft Singles commercial because each slice included a a full serving of milk (or something like that). I begged my mom to buy Kraft Singles at the store and one day she did. My little 4-year old self was so excited! As she was unpacking the groceries I grabbed those Kraft Singles, tore the wrapper off and shoved an entire piece in my mouth.
Only to realize that Kraft Singles taste like shit. And because Kraft Singles tasted so bad, I came to the conclusion that all cheese was nasty. Let's face it. The texture of cheese is weird, and the taste is . . . gross. Plus it smells nasty. Why would I want to eat something that smells and tastes funky?
It's AMAZING what you can find on YouTube. This isn't the exact commercial I remember, but it is close enought
From that point on I had a love-hate relationship with cheese. I could eat pizza every day of the week and twice on Sunday's and be happy. But to this day, I have never eaten a cheeseburger (nor do I want to). For years I would go to restaurants and anything I ordered was ordered "without cheese." I've picked cheese off of every possible dish you could imagine. . .salads, hamburgers, pasta dishes, etc. As I've gotten older, I've eased up a little bit. I'll eat a Caesar salad. and I no longer refuse four-cheese pizza because it includes thee other cheeses in addition to mozzarella. But a cheese enchilada? Ick. My mom's broccoli and cheese? Gag. Anything with ricotta? Vomit.
This brings me to why I hate Mac n' Cheese. This dish is the embodiment of all things I hate about cheese. The texture and smell make me gag. Ever hear pregnant women say that they have a heightened sense of smell that makes them nauseous? Well, the only food that caused this reaction in me was Mac n' Cheese. Dan would make it for Noah and I would have to leave the room to avoid vomiting.
Come to think of it, this is the same reaction I have when I am NOT pregnant.
And not only is this Noah's favorite meal, but Hannah and Abbie are digging it too. Karma is a bitch when you have three kids who love the meal you despise the most.
I've never been a lover of cheese. When I was Noah's age I was fascinated with the Kraft Singles commercial because each slice included a a full serving of milk (or something like that). I begged my mom to buy Kraft Singles at the store and one day she did. My little 4-year old self was so excited! As she was unpacking the groceries I grabbed those Kraft Singles, tore the wrapper off and shoved an entire piece in my mouth.
Only to realize that Kraft Singles taste like shit. And because Kraft Singles tasted so bad, I came to the conclusion that all cheese was nasty. Let's face it. The texture of cheese is weird, and the taste is . . . gross. Plus it smells nasty. Why would I want to eat something that smells and tastes funky?
It's AMAZING what you can find on YouTube. This isn't the exact commercial I remember, but it is close enought
From that point on I had a love-hate relationship with cheese. I could eat pizza every day of the week and twice on Sunday's and be happy. But to this day, I have never eaten a cheeseburger (nor do I want to). For years I would go to restaurants and anything I ordered was ordered "without cheese." I've picked cheese off of every possible dish you could imagine. . .salads, hamburgers, pasta dishes, etc. As I've gotten older, I've eased up a little bit. I'll eat a Caesar salad. and I no longer refuse four-cheese pizza because it includes thee other cheeses in addition to mozzarella. But a cheese enchilada? Ick. My mom's broccoli and cheese? Gag. Anything with ricotta? Vomit.
This brings me to why I hate Mac n' Cheese. This dish is the embodiment of all things I hate about cheese. The texture and smell make me gag. Ever hear pregnant women say that they have a heightened sense of smell that makes them nauseous? Well, the only food that caused this reaction in me was Mac n' Cheese. Dan would make it for Noah and I would have to leave the room to avoid vomiting.
Come to think of it, this is the same reaction I have when I am NOT pregnant.
And not only is this Noah's favorite meal, but Hannah and Abbie are digging it too. Karma is a bitch when you have three kids who love the meal you despise the most.
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
A Generation of Heathens
Remember when yogurt was just something smooth and creamy you ate with a spoon?
First there was drinkable yogurt which you drank with a straw. It was like a mini-smoothie.
Next came Gogurt. Yogurt in a tube that you slurped down similarly to an Icee Pop.
Now we have something new: Crush Cup Yogurt.
Dan does the grocery shopping and for the most part he does a terrific job. But he can easily be manipulated by Noah into purchasing things that I would not buy. Such as Crush Cup Yogurt.
Here is what happened.
Noah was eating "breakfast for dinner." Also known as "baseball night" or "Mommy was too lazy cook a 'real' dinner." In addition to his bagel, Dan had given Noah a small cup of yogurt. Fine. But then I noticed Noah was eating the yogurt by squeezing the container and licking it. There wasn't a spoon in sight. Being the good mother I am, I handed him a spoon and told him to eat his yogurt properly. He gave me a weird look, but did as told. When Dan came back into the kitchen I chided him for not giving Noah spoon. Dan look at me and said, "But Toby, it's Crush Cup Yogurt. You don't need a spoon!" Followed by Noah chiming in with, "Yeah Mom, it's a CRUSH CUP." Pardon me!
You know what Crush Cup Yogurt is? Yogurt for children who want to eat like pigs at the trough and the fathers that let them.
I looked it up on the internet and found this gem.
Seriously? This is what we have come to as a society? Spoons are too much much of an inconvenience so now we're going to slurp our food like pigs? When did this become socially acceptable? When the obnoxious kids from the "Suite Life of Zach and Cody" became the spokesmen? This is reminiscent of Ralphie from a Christmas Story. Except his dad was horrified when he ate like a pig.
http://www.tcm.com/mediaroom/index/?o_cid=mediaroomlink&cid=62365
First there was drinkable yogurt which you drank with a straw. It was like a mini-smoothie.
Next came Gogurt. Yogurt in a tube that you slurped down similarly to an Icee Pop.
Now we have something new: Crush Cup Yogurt.
Dan does the grocery shopping and for the most part he does a terrific job. But he can easily be manipulated by Noah into purchasing things that I would not buy. Such as Crush Cup Yogurt.
Here is what happened.
Noah was eating "breakfast for dinner." Also known as "baseball night" or "Mommy was too lazy cook a 'real' dinner." In addition to his bagel, Dan had given Noah a small cup of yogurt. Fine. But then I noticed Noah was eating the yogurt by squeezing the container and licking it. There wasn't a spoon in sight. Being the good mother I am, I handed him a spoon and told him to eat his yogurt properly. He gave me a weird look, but did as told. When Dan came back into the kitchen I chided him for not giving Noah spoon. Dan look at me and said, "But Toby, it's Crush Cup Yogurt. You don't need a spoon!" Followed by Noah chiming in with, "Yeah Mom, it's a CRUSH CUP." Pardon me!
You know what Crush Cup Yogurt is? Yogurt for children who want to eat like pigs at the trough and the fathers that let them.
I looked it up on the internet and found this gem.
Seriously? This is what we have come to as a society? Spoons are too much much of an inconvenience so now we're going to slurp our food like pigs? When did this become socially acceptable? When the obnoxious kids from the "Suite Life of Zach and Cody" became the spokesmen? This is reminiscent of Ralphie from a Christmas Story. Except his dad was horrified when he ate like a pig.
http://www.tcm.com/mediaroom/index/?o_cid=mediaroomlink&cid=62365
Monday, May 4, 2009
How did it all end?
Well. . . .
After Hannah had been fed, changed, driven around town, and drugged I gave up and let her cry it out for 30 minutes.
Then I completely lost my shit. Because I don't do well at 3am either. And poor Dan bore the brunt of it.
Then Abbie came into bed with me (Dan was in the other room with Noah who managed to sleep through EVERYTHING). And since we discontinued the better cable channels in an effort to save money she ended up watching an episode of "Bridezillas" that I found On Demand. She fell asleep at 4am. (For the record, where do they find these women?!)
Saturday during the day was a little better. The girls were still a little under the weather but we took them out for some fresh air in the afternoon. Noah got to play at the splash pad with his friend and we sat with our friends and watched. We kept them up all afternoon.
Saturday night they slept for 14 hours. Sunday they were good as new!
After Hannah had been fed, changed, driven around town, and drugged I gave up and let her cry it out for 30 minutes.
Then I completely lost my shit. Because I don't do well at 3am either. And poor Dan bore the brunt of it.
Then Abbie came into bed with me (Dan was in the other room with Noah who managed to sleep through EVERYTHING). And since we discontinued the better cable channels in an effort to save money she ended up watching an episode of "Bridezillas" that I found On Demand. She fell asleep at 4am. (For the record, where do they find these women?!)
Saturday during the day was a little better. The girls were still a little under the weather but we took them out for some fresh air in the afternoon. Noah got to play at the splash pad with his friend and we sat with our friends and watched. We kept them up all afternoon.
Saturday night they slept for 14 hours. Sunday they were good as new!
Saturday, May 2, 2009
Never a dull moment
It's 2:06 a.m.
Both girls are sick and despite being fever-free all day, both spiked fevers tonight. And both decided that sleeping through the night was not an option.
The girls share a room and most of the time this is not a problem. But there are times when we've noticed that they feed off one another. If one is crying the other other will join in for effect (surround sound). This happened tonight. Desperate times call for desperate measures. Dan stayed with Abbie and I put Hannah in the car for a little drive. We thought that separating them might calm them down enough to sleep.
Did I mention that while I was on my middle-of-the-night tour of NE Phoenix the dog (Elie) decided to take a whiz in our bed?
Oh, and the drive worked. Until I got home and had to move Hannah from the car into her bed. At which point she got hysterical. And woke Abbie up.
Noah is missing all the action.
Both girls are sick and despite being fever-free all day, both spiked fevers tonight. And both decided that sleeping through the night was not an option.
The girls share a room and most of the time this is not a problem. But there are times when we've noticed that they feed off one another. If one is crying the other other will join in for effect (surround sound). This happened tonight. Desperate times call for desperate measures. Dan stayed with Abbie and I put Hannah in the car for a little drive. We thought that separating them might calm them down enough to sleep.
Did I mention that while I was on my middle-of-the-night tour of NE Phoenix the dog (Elie) decided to take a whiz in our bed?
Oh, and the drive worked. Until I got home and had to move Hannah from the car into her bed. At which point she got hysterical. And woke Abbie up.
Noah is missing all the action.
Friday, May 1, 2009
Karma can be a bitch
My friends, colleagues, and anyone who follows me on Facebook knows that I have been having a little fun with all of this talk about the Swine Flu. . . excuse me the H1N1Flu. Since we don't want to unnecessarily punish Wilbur for sickening hundreds of people around the world.
I've spent the last week coming up with new and creative names for the Flu (Babe: Flu in the City, the Piglet Flu), mocking people who are flipping out about the flu, including the fact that there is a "Swine Flu Response Team" at work. I even found a way to connect the flu to an upcoming fundraising campaign that will raise money for the Girl Scouts. . . .instead of "Support the Sash" I think we should go with "Support the Mask" and put the Girl Scout logo on surgical masks. It's fun and topical!
Given all this, I wasn't too worried when I got a call Thursday that the girls were sick and running slight fevers. Out of nine kids in the infant room four had ear infections. My girls just wanted to be a part of the in crowd. By the time Dan picked them up from daycare and took them to the pediatrician they were in bad shape and both had spiked high fevers. When he called me after the appointment to give me an update all I heard was "they are very sick" and "the pediatrician tested them for the flu, but the test was negative."
I think I heard the part about the flu test being negative but in that split second I started worry that the test had been a false negative. And that I was going to have to call the JCC and tell them that "those Fox twins" had exposed and infected the entire school (that would NOT have won me any popularity contests. I suspect there are families who are still pissed that my kids brought RSV into the class). In my panic, my imagination took over and I spent five minutes obsessing over how they could have been infected when the only places they had been were home and daycare. It's not like we had been in Rocky Point (and why we are NEVER going back there is another post for another time). And then I thought, "this is probably my punishment for using Facebook to mock the whole swine flu thing."
And then Dan brought me back to reality by reminding me that their flu tests were negative, that it wasn't going to magically be positive in the morning, and that I needed to pull my head out of my ass. Well, he didn't actually say that, but I am SURE he was thinking it.
Oh, and the girls are fine. They each have bacterial infections and prescriptions for Omnicef.
I've spent the last week coming up with new and creative names for the Flu (Babe: Flu in the City, the Piglet Flu), mocking people who are flipping out about the flu, including the fact that there is a "Swine Flu Response Team" at work. I even found a way to connect the flu to an upcoming fundraising campaign that will raise money for the Girl Scouts. . . .instead of "Support the Sash" I think we should go with "Support the Mask" and put the Girl Scout logo on surgical masks. It's fun and topical!
Given all this, I wasn't too worried when I got a call Thursday that the girls were sick and running slight fevers. Out of nine kids in the infant room four had ear infections. My girls just wanted to be a part of the in crowd. By the time Dan picked them up from daycare and took them to the pediatrician they were in bad shape and both had spiked high fevers. When he called me after the appointment to give me an update all I heard was "they are very sick" and "the pediatrician tested them for the flu, but the test was negative."
I think I heard the part about the flu test being negative but in that split second I started worry that the test had been a false negative. And that I was going to have to call the JCC and tell them that "those Fox twins" had exposed and infected the entire school (that would NOT have won me any popularity contests. I suspect there are families who are still pissed that my kids brought RSV into the class). In my panic, my imagination took over and I spent five minutes obsessing over how they could have been infected when the only places they had been were home and daycare. It's not like we had been in Rocky Point (and why we are NEVER going back there is another post for another time). And then I thought, "this is probably my punishment for using Facebook to mock the whole swine flu thing."
And then Dan brought me back to reality by reminding me that their flu tests were negative, that it wasn't going to magically be positive in the morning, and that I needed to pull my head out of my ass. Well, he didn't actually say that, but I am SURE he was thinking it.
Oh, and the girls are fine. They each have bacterial infections and prescriptions for Omnicef.
Dan hates it when I blog about him
But he's not home right now to complain about it so I am going to blog about him anyway.
Far be it from me to complain about the organization of someone else's closet. Because mine isn't the best. I would describe it as organized chaos. . .for the most part I know what's in there and where it is.
However, I was putting laundry away tonight (it was an exciting Friday night at the Fox house!) and I have reached my breaking point with Dan's closet. It's a disaster. I've politely suggested that he might want to clean it out, as I am sure he would be pleasantly surprised by some of the things (crap) he would find in there. However, my wifely nudges (bitching) have always been rebuked. But tonight I realized the mess has gotten worse. Just how bad is it? The pile of clothes on the floor is 2.5 feet high. The pile almost reaches the clothes actually hanging on hangers.
What do you think I would have to promise him with to get him to clean it out? I am open to suggestions.
Far be it from me to complain about the organization of someone else's closet. Because mine isn't the best. I would describe it as organized chaos. . .for the most part I know what's in there and where it is.
However, I was putting laundry away tonight (it was an exciting Friday night at the Fox house!) and I have reached my breaking point with Dan's closet. It's a disaster. I've politely suggested that he might want to clean it out, as I am sure he would be pleasantly surprised by some of the things (crap) he would find in there. However, my wifely nudges (bitching) have always been rebuked. But tonight I realized the mess has gotten worse. Just how bad is it? The pile of clothes on the floor is 2.5 feet high. The pile almost reaches the clothes actually hanging on hangers.
What do you think I would have to promise him with to get him to clean it out? I am open to suggestions.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
