I’m talking about him over at Parenting today and I’d love to have your opinion.
Archives for December 2007
We have a winner for the big fat giant mother of a Miffy.
And the prize goes to Veronica Mitchell from one of my favorite recent blog finds Toddled Dredge. She says it’s for her 4-year-old but I have my doubts about that.
If you really want to wreak havoc with your mortal enemies’ psyches, pump their house full of rabid fruit flies that have no identifiable nesting ground or food source.
The flies will billow in clouds around their heads driving them to:
-flail their arms around spasmodically
-clap loudly at random times
-scream at invisible flying specs of annoyance
-repeatedly peek into bowls of apple cider vinegar laced with dish soap and cackle with self-satisfaction
-LOSE THEIR MINDS!!!!!
Well after reading your comments today, I checked back into the “male nurse” fiasco and discovered that he is actually a Nurse Practitioner so I feel a little sheepish. I feel much more calm after letting it sit for another 24 hours. Do you ever go back and read a blog post and think, “Wow. I was really worked up about that yesterday. Hmph. Oh well.”? I do.
As a side note though, do you call a nurse practitioner a “doctor” because that’s what she called him? I should also point out that the ER was clean and everyone treated us very nicely when they weren’t ignoring us for hours at a time. Several of you also mentioned that you ARE the ones mostly responsible for your children’s health care. I’m also the main caregiver for my children. I just resent that the assumption was made, to the extent that they left Dan completely out of the conversation.
On Sunday Laylee was in agony-induced meltdown mode over a sore neck which got more and more stiff as the day wore on. By noon she was unable to turn her head at all and sobbing every time we moved her an inch. Worried that the stiff neck might be indicative of the big scary M-word and unsure whether or not she had a fever as she’d been wearing a huge parka all day, we decided to take her in to Urgent Care on the way home from church. We called ahead and they said that we should take her straight to the ER.
I guess the urgent care doesn’t mess around with sudden onset neck pain in young children.
So we settled in for a nice long wait in an ER exam room full of sharps containers and other biohazards. Magoo was in heaven. Laylee laid perfectly still in the hospital bed while Dan spun Magoo on the wheely chair and sang hundreds of verses of Down By the Bay. I offered moral support, relieved Dan’s strained singing voice with my MP3-playing phone and occasionally threw peanuts at the children.
After an hour of waiting, we had a short visit from a female nurse who told us the doctor would be in shortly. The ER was fairly quiet besides the muffled conversations of the staff who seemed to be in no kind of hurry at all.
After our second hour of waiting, I commented on the lack of carnage I’d seen and told Dan that this hospital was nothing like the ones on ER or Grey’s Anatomy. Magoo commented on GOOOO HOOOME NOW AAAAHHHHH!!!!!!!
Dan said that for all we knew it was exactly like the TV drama hospitals and the reason we were waiting so long to see a doctor was because they were all in supply closets somewhere making out. He had a good point.
Eventually a man wearing a lab coat came in and briefly examined Laylee without introducing himself. He diagnosed her with Wry Neck or a sudden unexplained neck pain. Nice. I probably could have called that one. He prescribed an ice pack and children’s Motrin, which was then administered by a nurse. I wonder how much it costs to have your Motrin administered by a nurse in the ER as a cure for Wry Neck. Hopefully I’ll never find out.
There were a couple of strange things about our visit that the feminist in me cannot let go. First, the hospital staff went out of their way to ignore Dan’s presence in the room and only make eye contact with and speak directly to me. Never mind that he’s her father, that he was the one who’d been taking care of her all day, the one who had checked her in at the front desk while I was parking the car or that my hands were full when they brought in her release papers to be signed. They stepped right past Dan and handed me the clipboard, turning their back to him and explaining everything to the mother. I’m not normally sensitive to this kind of thing but it was really obvious.
Obviously as the mother and nurturer, I am the only one who can understand how to squeeze a dropper of Ibuprofen into her mouth. I mean if fathers could do that, then we might expect them to start periodically changing diapers and eventually women might begin to feel superior and demand the right to vote or something.
Secondly, when we looked over her release papers, we saw that the “doctor” they’d sent in was really a male nurse. So it seems that the female nurse had looked at Laylee, determined that calling a doctor was unnecessary, but hoped we wouldn’t ask questions when she called in a man in uniform, told us a doctor was on his way and sent in a male nurse wearing a lab coat.
Now it’s possible that all the doctors and interns were “busy” “getting” “supplies” and since she was fairly sure that nothing was wrong, she called in the senior grand poobah nurse (who happened to be male) and asked him to come have a look. It just looked fishy, especially in an ER where caring for children is considered solely women’s work.
When I got a message in my inbox with the subject line — Re: This is About a Giant Miffy — my first thought was that it was a creatively euphemized inappropriate spam email. Then I noticed it came from my beloved Mir so I decided to keep reading about this here Giant Miffy. Here’s the deal:
Ty’s Toybox is giving away some Giant Miffy dolls. They are over 2 feet tall and appear to be even bigger around than “your mother” which is pretty big because I’ve heard she’s got a few pounds to lose. (Was that a good “your mother” joke? I’m trying to be “down” with all the “slang”, my little marshmallow “peeps”.)
If you’d like to win this fabulous prize of amazing proportions (and you know that even if you don’t, your little person REALLY REALLY does) head over to Ty’s and browse until you find whatever your child would choose second after they got their favorite possible toy, a huge giant stuffed Miffy.
Then, if you live in the continental US, come back and leave a comment about the second place treasure and you’ll be entered to win. The contest closes at 11:59pm PST on Wednesday, December 5th. I’ll do a random drawing and you’ll get your giant box-that-dreams-are-made-of in the mail.
Everybody gets automatic free shipping at Ty’s on domestic orders over $65 and you can use the coupon code HOLIDAY5 to get $5 off a $50 order.
In the past I haven’t done many of the giveaways that have been sent my way but how could I resist the chance to write a post with “GIANT MIFFY” in the title? Seriously. Oh, and I get one too, to give to “your mother.” (Got you again. Wow, I am really on a roll with that one.)
I’m starting to sense that it may be December. This sensation is apropos and in regards to the following significant significations:
1. Magoo will not stop with the “jiggy bells.” Yep. He really calls them that.
2. When we breathe out through our mouths, it makes all kinds of crazy “foagk.” So we breathe out a lot and not so much of the in until our lungs nearly explode and we pass out on the sidewalk on the way to the civic tree lighting festival, the festival in which they plug in 3 strands of lights on a giant tree the shape of a pickle. We always cover our eyes to avoid getting the “foagk” in them and so that our landing place will be a surprise when we pass out on the way to the CTLF.
3. December 1st dawned with the promise that Seattle may indeed see a white Christmas this year… with a touch of green peeking out from underneath.
4. My craft projects have finally found willing muffin-headed recipients.
5. It smells like my BIRTHDAY!!! Growing up, I always knew my birthday was coming when I could smell winter in the air. This got a little annoying to my parents as it begins to smell like winter sometime in late August up in Alberta. Down here my olfactory timing device is a little more accurate. Ere the year is over I will reach the ripe old age of 29. Condolence gifts and donations of Centrum Silver can be sent via mail.
The Reasons: a Santa who arrives on a fire engine, mittened hands eating sugar cookies, husbands who make dinner and do all the dishes so their wives can crochet