Friday, December 30, 2011

Why I Hurt My Baby

Little Sharon was lying on the crinkly paper covered exam table. She'd stoically endured pokes, and prods, and cold stethoscope intrusions, and even swallowed the oral vaccine without complaint. But then it was time for the shots. I hadn't been there for the first round of them, so I didn't know what to expect. I held her little hands as the doctor stuck the three tiny needles into her thighs. I will never forget the red-faced wailing of my darling girl, or the look of utter anguish and hurt on her face. I squeezed her hands, fought back my instinct to grab her and flee, or fight off her assailant, and tried my best to reassure her that it would be all right. The shots were given quickly, and in a few seconds I was holding my crying baby in my arms, rocking her and trying to soothe her. I tried to comfort myself with the knowledge that she will almost certainly not remember anything about this day, though I know that I will almost certainly never forget. The rest of the day she was grumpy and uncomfortable; made all the worse by the nasty cold she has. Last night neither my wife nor I got much sleep as Sharon slept fitfully, noisily, and woke frequently due to her stuffed up nose. But, in two months when it's time for her next round of shots I'll willingly, if not exactly gladly, do it all again. I know that with the exception of this relatively small amount of pain and discomfort I am protecting my little girl from rotavirus, hepatitis b, haemophilus influenzae, polio, diphtheria, tetanus, and pertussis. Any of these can be fatal or crippling, and I will continue to do everything I can to protect my darling baby from the ravages of easily preventable diseases. And if you are on the fence about vaccinating your kids I urge you to do your homework. Look at the volumes of data compiled over nearly a century that vouch for the safety and efficacy of vaccines. I also urge you to ignore celebrities who have no medical credentials whatsoever, yet choose to spread falsehoods and bad science. Vaccines are safe, effective, and vital to the survival of our children.

I will now put the soapbox away.

Saturday, December 17, 2011

And Now Your Moment of Zen

I'm posting this on because it worked for me today.

A Dr. on TV said to have inner peace we should always finish things we start & we all could use more calm in our lives.

I looked around my house to find things I'd started & hadn't finished, so I finished off a bottle of Merlot, a bottle of Chardonnay, a bodle of Baileys, a butle of wum, tha mainder of Valiuminun prscriptuns, an a box a chocletz.

Yu haf no idr how fablus I feel rite now.

Sned this to all who need inner piss. An telum u luvem.

Friday, December 16, 2011

My Cat is a Sloppy Drunk

If Artemis could meow 'I love you, motherfucker. No, really, I mean it, man.' she would. It's nearly Christmas, and since we've decided to go down to South Florida so my dad and some others can meet Sharon, Artemis is having her annual urinary tract infection. So we found a vet nearby and I put the poor dear in the carrier and paid the good doctor a visit. After the normal prodding, and squeezing, and listening, and, now that I think about it, no thermometer work, the doctor suggested something no one else had. Apparently some cats have a thing called lower urinary tract disease, which acts an awful lot like a UTI, but without bacteria involved. And given Artemis's history of frequent flare ups she is a likely candidate, so rather than antibiotics we have her on painkillers to ease the symptoms and see if it runs its course and subsides on its own. The side effect to the narcotic pain killers is that my cat is stoned out of her tiny kitty mind. When she's not sleeping she's even more affectionate than ever, and she is a very loving kitty, and there have been a lot of kitty kisses and hand grabbing. It's quite amusing, actually. When asked what can trigger such flare ups, the doctor said stress, usually. And what can stress a cat out? Stuff like a new baby in the house. D'oh!

Other than that all is quiet. I'm done for the semester, so I'm on full-time-daddy duty. Sharon has finally mastered blowing raspberries, much to my amusement and my wife's dismay, and the little imp now realizes how much it amuses me, and pthbthbthbthbs whenever she sees me. It's freaking adorable!!

Almost as adorable as this:



Tuesday, December 06, 2011


I know I said that I would post an entry every time flurrious did, and some of you might have noticed that she did so just last week, but I did not, but she posted again this week, and it's part 2 of last week's post, so I'm still good, right? Right? *le sigh*

Anyway, the real reason I haven't posted anything is that I'm trying to not be that obnoxious new dad who only ever talks about The Baby(insert golden light from above and a heavenly choir here) You know that guy. Has a wallet full of photos that are all nearly identical, brags about the latest bowel movement stats like her diaper is an NBA court, already knows what college she'll attend, etc. The truth is I AM that guy, but I've been subjected to enough of that over the years that I'm actively fighting it...and mostly succeeding. But, and I hope you'll forgive me this one indulgence, ain't she cute?

Anyway, I have a theory about the latest spate of Republican nutjobs competing for the GOP nomination for 2012. They all seem irredeemably insane, and this has puzzled me for a while, because even at his back-woodsy nuttiest, George W. Bush never acted as batshit crazy as this bunch. But I think I have it figured out. Unseating an incumbent president is historically difficult, and the GOP doesn't seem to have a truly viable candidate right now, so what if they're trotting out the lunatic fringe that keeps begging to sit at the adult's table so that when they inevitably get trounced by Obama then they can legitimately tell them next time that they had their chance, and they need to slink back into the basement while the grownups handle the real work of sucking corporate, funding.

Either that or the whole party is just a bunch of whack jobs.

Either way it's entertaining as hell, but I will miss Herman Cain.

Peace, y'all.