Scary firsts

I've been wanting to write about this, but also not wanting to because it was super scary.

Hamburglar had his first fever 4th of July weekend. Well, the third of July. He wasn't very hungry at dinner and he felt really warm, so I checked his temperature and it was 101. We gave him Tylenol and some water and put him to bed. Mr. Adventure checked on him and changed his diaper at 11. His fever was still 101 (or 101 again?) and he gave him the very last of the Tylenol, which was maybe half a dose?

We figured fevers aren't a big deal. All kids get sick eventually. Chumby has had the occasional cold, but nothing really bad other than a lot of snot or gross poo diapers.

Around midnight, Mr. Adventure heard what he thought were hiccups coming through the baby monitor, but they didn't stop, so he checked on Chumby and he was having a seizure. I heard him say, "Oh my God!" but it wasn't the gross poo OMG, it was more of a panic. I shot out of bed, he handed him to me, he was twitching still a little bit and his lips were turning blue. Mr. A had a friend over who called 911, but the ambulance was seven minutes out and we only live about a mile from the hospital, so Mr. Adventure drove to the ER while I cradled Chumby, who was still non-responsive.

We were at the ER for a couple of hours. His temperature was 103.5 when they took it. They gave him some ibuprofen or something and his fever started coming down. I loved the nurse we were assigned. He was so kind and gentle. When Chumby started feeling better, he asked for a sticker (because all grown ups who work in buildings with fluorescent lights have stickers, obvs) and the nurse went out to see what he could find. He came back with a stuffed bear.

Febrile seizures are somewhat common in infants and small children, but it doesn't make it any less frightening when it happens. I remember clearly the day I realized I was mortal (after an express kidnapping in Central America!) but I think it's even scarier to discover your children are mortal. Mr. Adventure didn't sleep all weekend. Chumby's breath smelled like he was dying. That was really scary. They did a chest x-ray and tried to get him to pee in a bag (that never happened. Even though we tried running water and watching the episode of Daniel Tiger where everyone goes to the potty). The doctor said he had pneumonia and prescribed 5 days of antibiotics. I didn't know you could have pneumonia with no symptoms.

I think with all toddlers, you know they're feeling better when they are well enough to be total a-holes. So, Chumby is back to his usual self. Hopefully Mr. Adventure and I will be back to our usual selves soon.

In pregnancy news, 33 weeks pregnant. I've started calling the baby Brown Sugar, because I primarily eat generic rice krispies with brown sugar. I wonder if what you eat really impacts the temperament of your baby? When I was pregnant with Chumb, I ate a lot of salty foods and he was a pretty salty baby. He's a super sweet toddler, though. Brown Sugar/Sean Connery is all about the sweet.

Pregnant Chicken talks about breast vs. bottle feeding in her 33 week pregnant post. The first time around, I was so insistent that Hamburglar would only be breast fed and I would do it for a year. And I totally did. This time, I'm like "fuck it! Who gives a shit what this kid is eating as long as he is eating and growing?" Although, my favorite thing about breastfeeding is that it is free. And, as a family on a budget, I'm hoping I can only breastfeed this guy as well. At least for the first 6 months. I kind of hate breastfeeding and I really hate pumping, but it does give me a good excuse to take a break from work and watch shitty TV on my smart phone. Though, I don't have Netflix anymore and I'm still rocking my S2, which doesn't support Amazon Prime instant video.

We may have picked a name. I'm not willing to commit yet, but Mr. Adventure's terrible suggestions have finally worn me down and I kind of don't care what we name the kid anymore. All I know is that I am going to pick a quality and classic middle name so that if he hates the name Mr. A has picked, he can thank me for a quality backup name. During one of my many, many googling sessions of things like "baby naming for assholes," I came across this post from the daddyfiles on baby naming. I liked it.

At 33 weeks pregnant, Brown Sugar is the size of a durian (see: WTF is a durian? from 2013). Here is a recipe for Durian Puree Cheesecake. And here is a recipe for Durian Breakfast Muffins. I feel that the muffins really get into the spirit of faux infant cannibalism, because the recipe calls for brown sugar.

I think that's about it. Mr. Adventure scored a fancy day job, so he's trading in his Stay-At-Home-Dad hat for some Lord-Loves-A-Workin'-Man boots. He starts Monday, though, after being offered the job yesterday, which gives us very little time to find a day care/child care situation. The extra complication is that I don't get until next week, our budget is super tight and daycare is mother f-ing expensive. But, I have a mom from my mom group that said she can help out at least until we find something, or, if things go well, she may be willing to watch Chumby until I go on maternity leave in September! Keep your fingers crossed.

I dream of day care...

I have been calling and scheduling interviews this week with pediatricians and day cares.  The two things I learned are that most of the staff in pediatrician offices are assholes and day care is expensive.  The nice thing about working for The Man is that I have super awesome benefits, like the benefit of paying for daycare pre-tax.  That’s nice.  Because shit is EXPENSIVE.  Average around here is $175/week for full time care.  I found one that was $75 a week, but the woman told me they only take one infant at a time and tend to have about 20-25 kids with two staff members.  Um… no thank you?  I also found a Montessori school that does infant care for $550/month full-time and $450 part-time.  Most of the rates at these places drop when the baby turns two.  If only I was still in Latin America.  I could find a nice ninera for waaaaaayyyy cheaper.  Or an amazing one for the same price. 

I think all these conversations with day cares are what led to the weird dream I had on Wednesday night.  In my dream, I had gone to check out a day care which wasn’t particularly special or nice.  It was in a woman’s home and she told me the cost was $1000/month.  Even dream me thought that was ridiculous.  When questioned about her exorbitant rates, the woman responded, “We’re the whitest day care in town.”  Dream me said, “Excuse me, did you say whitest?”  And the woman replied, “Yes.  We don’t allow colored babies in here.”  WTF?  Colored babies?  I think that is the dream that woke me up on Thursday morning.  So, yeah.  I’m dreaming about expensive, racist day cares.

Next week I am going to check out the day cares I called this week to see if I like them.  I’m hoping the Montessori school is super awesome.  Or that my dad will decide that, since he is now retired, the only thing that could possibly bring him joy is providing childcare for his grandson.  For free… or for really cheap.   

Now all I can think about is my step-sister’s racist dog from my childhood.  His name was Max and he barked at black people. 

I have interviewed two pediatricians so far and I have four more slated for this month.  The first two were recommended by coworkers, and I hated both of them (the pediatricians, not the coworkers).  I would like to find a pediatrician or family doctor that I love as much as I love my midwife.  So, I have started selecting pediatricians to interview based upon random things.  I am interviewing a guy on Monday based upon his impressive moustache and proximity to my house.  On Wednesday I am interviewing one because he went to medical school at UW in Seattle and he has only been practicing for about 3 years.  I’m hoping that his relatively newness to the field means that he is not a pretentious, jaded douche bag.  I guess I’ll know by next week!

Also this month are a guy that the receptionist in my chiropractor’s office says is amazing and a family doctor who is 15 miles from my house, but allegedly really good.  So, we’ll see.  I’m hoping to have shit figured out by August 1^st.

In other news, I was doing some internet research on things I should know about having a baby boy.  The big one seems to be to make sure his junk is pointed down when you put on his diaper, otherwise everything will get peed on except his diaper.  And babies get erections.  I did not know that and am glad I have been warned in advance.  And when they get older they pee everywhere.  One of my coworkers told me about her son, 4 or 5 years old at the time, standing at the top of the stairs, peeing.  He was trying to see if he could make it to the bottom of the stairwell.  I guess I can’t really blame him.  I would probably do the same thing, provided the opportunity and necessary equipment.

That is all.  Happy belated birthday, USA, and happy weekend to all (three) of you!