Feb
6
Dylan’s birthday started off on an ominous note with a cough-triggered puking episode — thankfully I had my Barf Radar on high and whisked him into the kitchen and over the sink just in time, having learned from the night before that a baby who coughs in just the right sort of way then looks deeply unhappy and contemplative for a few moments before smacking his lips and starting to whine needs to be picked up and ferried away from all fabric-covered surfaces IMMEDIATELY, like at LIGHT SPEED, instead of standing there like a dumbass staring at him wondering what’s wrong only to figure it out at the last second and in carrying him mid-barf from the room end up with stomach contents (PUREED CARROTS OMG) sprayed not just in one repulsive-but-dealable puddle, but in a long horrendous streak from one end of the carpet to the other and even on the WALL and in the OUTLET COVERS, dear GOD, and by the way if any of you have any tips for getting the stubborn remnants of barf-stain out of a cream-colored carpet I sure would appreciate any advice on that — and he was kind of extra clingy during the day and I thought the festivities might get scrapped in favor of a jaunty trip to the pediatrician’s office, but he rallied by late afternoon and we had a little family party in his honor.
While Riley, JB and I were enjoying Dylan’s cupcakes as the birthday boy contentedly sucked on a bottle, I realized that he’s a little behind the curve in the types of foods he’ll eat. The child has one hell of a gag reflex (see also: coughing, Streak Of Horror, etc), always has, and we’ve learned the hard way that finger foods get sent right back up and onto the highchair tray, if you know what I mean. It doesn’t seem like a big deal, really, but I remember at least offering Riley a cupcake, while I didn’t even consider giving any to Gaggy McHorkerton.
Eh, whatever. It’s not like Riley ate his, either, since he was so freaking SUSPICIOUS of them, despite the fact that I baked them myself — mini carrot cakes with cream cheese frosting! — using heart-shaped cupcake holders for the love of god.
In comparison, I purchased Dylan’s from Amazon’s grocery service. Oh ho HO yes, store-bought, same-day-ordered, and chock full of unhealthy ingredients. It’s not like I haven’t learned a thing or two in the last few years.
Man, don’t both kids just look THRILLED on their big day? First birthdays, sheesh. Really, parents should just hire a babysitter and go out on their own to celebrate having survived twelve straight months of INGRATITUDE.
Among the small collection of gifts Dylan received, he got a couple pairs of fleecy snuggly pajamas, which we forced him to model right away:
These are the exact sort of pajamas that, when Riley sleeps in them, have a pancake-syrup smell to them in the mornings. Dylan’s mostly smell like milk-drool, but Riley’s definitely get this Mrs. Butterworth’s aroma, and when I mentioned the Syrup Phenomenon to JB he was all, what whaaat, bitch you crazy. When I mentioned it on Twitter, however, I heard from like ten people who were all DUDE MY KID’S PAJAMAS SMELL LIKE SYRUP TOO, so that just goes to show that Twitter is more awesomer than husbands, so there.
Lastly! I feel kind of awkward mentioning this since I know most of us are cutting back on spending, but just in case, I signed up for a horrible-sounding event in March where I’m going to try and hike up 69 flights of stairs, like on purpose, what the fuck, and all the fundraising proceeds benefit The Leukemia & Lymphoma Society. (The LLS honor patient is Caleb Thorstein, whom you can read a bit about here.) If you’d like to sponsor me (click the “Support Linda” button under the photo), I would be totally honored.
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Well I am more than a little terrified. I was reading a nice b-day recap. I recounted the hilarious syrup story to my husband who claimed it’s real(based on babysitting his nephew). now I see links to syrup piss disease websites. Is that link a joke?
Happy belated birthday to Dylan! Sorry, no carpet remedies to offer, I am pathetically inept about stain removal.
I hope Dylan is feeling better. My little girl was coming down with a sore throat Friday night, but we had plans to road-trip to some amazing aquarium and we took the kids anyway. She was fine today, tonight she complained her ear hurts, so now I’m feeling all guilty that we took them. But, if you look at our photos, she is happy as a clam! Ah. Mommy guilt.
Okay, so now I want to run downstairs and put my two-yr-old in his fleece jammies just so that I can check him for a syrup smell in the morning. Your suggestion that parents leave the kids home with a sitter and celebrate surviving is awesome! Happy Birthday, Dylan!
Dude, you know what I just thought of while looking at the pictures of your kids making skruntchy faces and wearing ridiculous pajamas, I don’t think we’ve ever seen any embarrassing pictures of you looking like a dork when you were a little kid. (not that your kids are looking like dorks now, they are actually adorable, but I don’t want to see a picture of you looking adorable as a little girl, I want to see one of you looking like a total dork) What’s up with that? I don’t catch every single post or anything, so it’s possible I missed one, but I kind of feel … I feel like a poor kid who just discovered that every other kid in school has a TV. I was ok with it until I realized I was missing out. Your tireless blog posts rife with transparent honesty can not make up for this sudden lack of comedic history. Why have you held out? Is it because you are evil? Or perhaps is it because you are the opposite of good?
I just told five year old twin girls about it and they are sniffling and tearing up now. Oh, oh, look at that, now they are crying. You just made a little blond angel cry, and her freaky identical sister who some people consider a girl, but has not been proven to have a soul. (jury’s out on twins) I’m pretty sure this is why God made your baby barf on your carpet.
Lastly, some advice about the carpets. I have found, and I do get rid of stains professionally, (not really) that the best thing to use is fire, followed by cream colored spray paint. (the fire gets rid of the stink) If that doesn’t suit you, you could try some of that professional grade carpet cleaner. Not the shit you get at a grocery store, the stuff with a warning label you get at Lowes or the Home Depot. the stuff that probably kills fish and destroys the ozone and may or may not register on a Geiger counter. Mix it with some water, let it soak for a few minutes, and then shop-vac the living hell out of it. We use a normal carpet cleaner machine with that industrial strength stuff and it usually gets out even red clay tracks, which is what NC is made of. I’ll ask at work though, cause my work buddy used to clean carpets professionally, so he knows more than me. (remember, warning labels are good. grocery store chemicals are for pussies with dirty carpets)
OH GOD YES the syrup! My husband compares it to “wet bacon” but I am convinced it smells like syrup! WHAT is that? The pjs certainly smell fresh and clean when we put the Little Dude to bed… I am highly suspicious.
Okay, how inappropriate is it for me to say my cats smell like syrup? Haven’t noticed that smell on DS, but he does do the pee-through some mornings…in that same pair of footie jammies, no less!
Also meant to add, my DS also has the same hair-trigger gag reflex can self-induce vomiting when upset in under 60 seconds that will make CIO a method NEVER used in this house. He also eats retardedly. We ate a lot of freeze-dried fruit in very small pieces to start. Reminding him to CHEW seemed to be the key.
Chem Dry is the best carpet cleaner ever. It’s a parent’s best friend!
As the organizer of the Big Climb I’d like to thank you for mentioning our event in your blog. It’s nice to know that some people have also commented on it. Anyway, glad to have you on board and looking forward to meeting you in person perhaps on race day!
Your kids are So. Freakin’. Cute! The footie PJ’s! They KILL me!
That is all.
This totally makes me think I should follow you on Twitter because my son also has the syrup smell in his footie pajamas and my husband also though I was crazy.
As for the “Twitter is way awesomer than husbands” subject, that is also a topic I often think I could write about with some veracity.
(@Rachael above, I get what your husband says about the “wet bacon” smell — to me it’s kind of like a combination syrup and bacon fat odor. Which is just one more example of how I am very weird.)
Maple syrup urine disease (MSUD) is a metabolism disorder passed down through families in which the body cannot break down certain parts of proteins. Urine in persons with this condition smells like maple syrup.
http://www.nlm.nih.gov/medlineplus/ency/article/000373.htm
The feeding difficulties fit, too. Can’t hurt to check with your pediatrician.
magnificent post, very informative. I wonder why the opposite experts of this sector do not understand this. You must proceed your writing. I’m confident, you’ve a great readers’ base already!