Just wait until the credit card offers come

Ever since he has been about 2 months old, my child has been getting mail. I would like to say that it is from his various college trust funds, informing him that his education investment has been growing at 15% yearly, but who are we kidding? Trust funds?

It started with a letter from Robert Kennedy, imploring E to contact his congressman and strongly urge him to vote against drilling in Alaska. I asked E if he wanted to call his congressman, but he just threw up on me. The only thing more apropos would have been crapping all over me. He apparently is precocious when it comes to politics.

Then it was a slew of mail from all manner of wildlife organizations--Save the Whales, Wildlife Land Trust, The Jane Goddall Society, The National Audubon Society, Friends of the National Zoo. You get the picture. He has gotten stuffed animals, pennies, and return address labels.

This seems extremely odd to me. We aren't animal people here. We have a dog, we love our dog but reality is that we would rather have a night out eating sushi than pay for a stray to get neutered. It's the cold, hard facts.

So, is E crawling into the bedroom, climbing up onto the top of the dresser, stealing a 20 from dad's billfold and sending it off to PETA? I mentioned this situation to my friend when we were talking on the phone this morning and she mentioned that she had begun to get a stack of fitness magazines in the mail recently. Appalled at her husband's insensitivity, she asked him why he was doing this to her. He maintains his innocence and ignorance on the matter. She said that they now think their 7-year old daughter is ordering them online. Probably while she reads the Washington Post in the morning (dear Lord, is this what I have to look forward to?).

My guess is that my mother-in-law, the champion of all four-legged creatures, contributed some amount of money to an animal cause in my son's name. Let's just hope it wasn't ALF or ELF. I can't wait to see the FBI agent's face when he comes to interview Ethan regarding his involvement in ecoterrorist organizations.

I'll take a picture for you.

I'm not going to die. I can just see death from here...

I have now been sick for the better part of 3 weeks. I thought it went away last week before our trip, but it is back in full force. I wasn't shot up about going to the doctor because I know I have a bacterial infection which means antibiotics, but considering I can't raise my head off this keyboard, it's time to succomb to the health care establishment.

(I do wish I could go by my old job and cough on all the doorknobs before I get better. I wonder if I could get my friend to get me though security.)

I tried self-medication yesterday.

What's the one drug that will dry you out so much that you will even consider drinking out of the toilet if you just don't get water RIGHT NOW????? Benadryl.

What's the one drug that will make you so sleepy that your child can bite your face for 10 minutes and you will only wake up enough to seek assistance from your spouse before you are picked up by Family Services for throwing said child through a two-story window? Benadryl.

(I don't think you got the full affect of the biting. I definitely should have gone with the all caps --BITING)

What's the one drug that will send you into a sleep coma so deep that the distant roar of your 11-month old yelling his displeasure at his father for failing to read baby's mind cannot stir you? Benadryl.

That's some bad stuff.

Zithromax, here I come.

It isn't a vacation until someone goes to the hospital

Wow, that American Airlines is a good deal. $189 to go to Portland and they'll throw in a free upper respiratory infection and a middle ear infection for the baby.

On Sunday E woke up with a 102 degree fever. Not Friday, not Saturday, but Sunday. Since we were getting to go on the 'big airplane' twice on Monday at noon, we had to figure out what was wrong with His Royal Highness. Since we know people who know people, we were off to the Pediatric ER.

Where we were treated like royalty. It was the first time I didn't have to spell my child's last name to someone since his birth.

"Oh, it's THE GRANDSON." If you have to go to the ER I would recommend going to the hospital where your FIL has worked for the last 20 years. Someone even carried my coat for me. The last time I was in an ER, I waited 5 hours and everyone was mean. At this hospital, someone brought in toys so the baby wouldn't be bored during his 7 minute wait.

(Sidenote for which I am too tired to find the right segue: as we were boarding the flight yesterday, one gate agent asked another gate agent why she was delivering paperwork to the cockpit. She said that the pilot had forgotten the flight plan. I guess I should be glad he remember it BEFORE we left. And I thought United Airlines had gone to hell in a handbasket.)

So the baby was drugged up and he did fine. His eardrum didn't burst but by golly, his diaper did. Does anyone have any idea the exact number of airplane poop bomb posts I have written because it feels like old hat. This time it was all over his father. I was only covered in residual poo. I hate poo. Really really hate it.

And does anyone know what's up with the booger bubbles the size of golf balls? That is just messed up.