A post script with pictures

Granny (et al), since you wanted an update...

Zachary's toe is badly infected, possibly with Staph, but we won't know until a culture comes back in a couple of days. He was in very little pain by the time his exam rolled around; the toe was oozing some nasty goop but it was closer to normal size and color. I was glad to have documented the worst stage so I could show the pictures to the physician's assistant without prolonging Zachary's pain.



For now, the treatment protocol includes thrice-daily foot baths of warm water and Epsom salt (the semi-helpful remedy we've already tried thus far), plus a Keflex prescription four times a day. The medication may change if the culture comes back with something weird.


After a harrowing half hour at the doctor's office (Gavin was ridiculous, due in part to his incredible lack of sleep and in part to the irony of pediatric exam rooms being utterly non-baby-proof), we made a return appointment for Friday afternoon. Then we drove to the pharmacy (we should get a Frequent Flyer discount at Walgreens), where I explained I need two bottles of Keflex - one for home and one for school.

I came home and put Gavin down for a nap. The world would be a happier place if this baby could get some sleep. Then I talked to Garry, who was finally warm under eight layers of blankets. Tyler had been sharing his sick bed and had been hysterical and uncomfortable for a while, but when I got home he was sleeping peacefully. He was still sporting a fever, even under the influence of Motrin. Garry didn't have Motrin in his system and was burning up as well.

When I returned to pick up Zachary's prescription an hour later, I got exactly what I ordered. I also picked up Children's Motrin, Pedialyte, extra-moisturizing lotion for Garry's cracking skin, and a big bag of peanut M&Ms just for me. I then proceeded to the elementary school, where I worked out the details of Zachary's medicine regimen with the office staff. Apparently several staffers saw Zach's toe and are very concerned about exactly what sort of infection was oozing around the school today. I have instructions to report the lab's findings when I get them.

As for me, I have resolved to self-medicate with chocolate and sleep in the guest bedroom for a few days. I got a flu shot this season, but I don't think it will cover the full panel of Yuck that's floating around this place!

Post this on your nearest telephone pole

Missing: One brain.

Description: Pinkish, goopy mass chock-full of names, faces, appointment dates and times, phone numbers, clothing and shoe sizes, family gift preferences, blog addresses, birth dates, 29 years of useless facts, party decoration ideas, personality quirks, plus OCD and bipolar tendencies. Equipped with a sensitive "yell" switch and a panic button. Answers to Mom, Mamamama, MOMMY, themeanestmomever, eh-eh-eh-eh-eh, You There, Hey Lady, and occasionally Babe.

If found: Please stow in your best organ preservation chest and email this blog author. She has double-booked three separate appointments today alone and is desperately trying to remember where she put her slippers.

Intelligence, even if artificial, is preferred to stupidity, no matter how genuine.

So it turns out I'm a bigger idiot than I thought. I'm still laughing and shaking my head.

First, read yesterday's post if you haven't yet.

After all that took place, I recruited Krista, an awesome Beaverton friend, to try to rescue the package that was supposedly delivered by FedEx to my old residence on Sunday (weird, eh?). I emailed my old (er...former) neighbor and she said she'd keep her eyes peeled. I also emailed the person who moved into my house. No response from her.

And then I basically got an ulcer thinking about it all.

Last night, Zach picked up our mail. Two packages with calendars were in the box. That was a head-scratcher. I was grateful, to be sure, but couldn't figure out how it happened that they were delivered to the right spot. Two out of three orders -- I was relieved.

This morning, Krista reported via email that my old house was dark, there was no package to be seen, and Jennifer the neighbor didn't have it and hadn't seen it. Dang.

So this morning I started reviewing my confirmation emails again, trying to figure out how in the world I'd been so dumb. And then, there it was. Turns out I was only dumb (about this) yesterday. After a quick call to the calendar place, I immediately sent off this email to Krista, laughing hysterically all the while.

Hi Krista.

I’m feeling a bit sheepish, for I believe I’ve sent you on a wild goose chase! Today I realized that both the customer service rep AND I were looking at last year’s calendar invoice when I was asking about delayed delivery. I ordered the same week (almost the same exact day) last year, so all the names and dates and dollar amounts matched, but the address was obviously different. This morning I was reviewing my email confirmation again, wondering how I could have been so stupid (and where that FedEx package was, since it was supposed to have been delivered already), when I caught the date error. I called again today, and the guy looked up this year’s invoice, told me a different delivery date, confirmed that the calendars will come to Colorado, and is looking up a tracking number as we speak. I am enormously grateful to have it all working out, but if it’s possible, I feel even stupider than before! Ah, the adventures of life.

Thank you for trying to bail me out. I’m going to go crawl in a hole now.

Heidi

Before crawling into the hole, however, I had to alert the world about the ending to this story. The moral: someone else is in charge of calendars next year!

Can I blame this one on the pregnancy?

OK, here's a stupid story to rival all stupidness in the galaxy.

Remember last week when I was all euphoric about order photo calendars for Christmas? The euphoria might not have made it into the blog post, but I was feeling very good about myself for collecting photos, designing three different calendars, and ordering them in time to take with me to Arizona this weekend (ergo saving on shipping). I had actually accomplished something in the midst of my slug-like existence. Something tangible and important (to me). Something pretty and fun (at least I think so). Something to cross of my list and forget for another year.

Well.

I've been all frustrated that the biggest set of calendars hasn't arrived. One is supposed to go in a package to Croatia today, after all. I finally called on it today and got a tracking number. Typing that little number into Fedex.com revealed the horrifying problem: the calendars were shipped to Beaverton, Oregon. To my old address.

If I used expletives, I might insert them here. Instead, imagine a snarl ripping from the throat of an ornery lion. That pretty much sums it up.

A large chunk of change (very little of it mine - others are contributing to this calendar-gifting frenzy) was invested in the purchase and shipment of these 12 calendars. I'm still holding out hope that one day I'll see them, but I'm not sure how that's going to happen, or when.

So, dear family members, if you are expecting tradition to bring a cute Dixon cousin (or some iteration of the family line) photo calendar to your doorstep this holiday season, please know that the Person In Charge has officially dropped the ball. [Rachel and Angie: I'll keep you posted.] There is a month to rectify the situation, so hopefully a happy ending is on the horizon. But if it doesn't appear, please know that the Person In Charge really tried.

Too bad you can't put good intentions under the Christmas tree.

Eight ways I would rather spend $800

Monday started off with a bang at our house.

A guy came over at 8:00 to perform what we thought would be a simple cleaning of our dryer vent pipe. We have suspected a clog for a while (the dryer takes three hours to finish a load and the clothes come out smelling musty), and since Garry's efforts to clean it out himself were fruitless, we called in a professional. What we learned, however, is that the piping in the ceiling is either horribly clogged or ripped, leaving us with zero air flow between the dryer and the outside. In addition, whoever finished the basement of this house installed the cheapest piping possible, put the dryer twice as far from the outside vent as he ought to have done, and installed piping behind the dryer that is not up to code. Combined, these offenses have created a huge fire hazard that needs to be fixed ASAP.

This is way beyond the scope of Garry's handyman capabilities.

And it's going to cost at least $800.

We had earmarked a wad of cash for a really exciting Christmas present for Garry (freeing up our tax return for something I really want), but apparently having "fun money" saved is just like begging for a home improvement disaster. I'm glad this ridiculous situation won't devastate us financially, but it is a huge bummer nonetheless.

Given the opportunity, here are eight ways -- most of them frivolous and in no particular order -- that I would rather spend $800:

1. A super-capacity dryer.

















2. A professional painter to transform the vaulted walls upstairs.


















3. Food storage.
















4. A new maternity wardrobe.




















5. Two round-trip tickets to Honolulu (Expedia has them for that price at the moment!).
















6. A home decor fabric shopping spree at JoAnn this weekend (50% off...think of all the possibilities!).


















7. Several sessions with a personal trainer.














8. This cute chair -- in purple.















Instead, you can expect online updates regarding the expensive, smelly experts making holes in our ceiling, shoving fancy, code-appropriate pipes in the right places, and, hopefully, a dryer that finishes a load in less than an hour.

I bet you can't wait.

I'm Awesome

Garry took Zach to school this morning (as usual) but unexpectedly returned home instead of continuing on to work. He had forgotten his cell phone and went to his dresser to retrieve it.

Only it wasn't there.

This was pretty strange, since Garry is a creature of habit and ALWAYS unloads his pockets in the same place: the top of his dresser. Unlike I, who am known for being scatterbrained and always on the hunt for something, Garry never varies from his routine. The missing cell phone was quite a mystery.

Garry retraced yesterday's steps. He knew he had the phone at church (it has his calendar on it, so it proves useful there) and was pretty confident he'd brought it home. Still, he searched the car (a few times), his dress pants, the laundry basket, and every room in the house. He looked under covers and couches, on counters and desks. His blue tooth headset connected to his cell when he called it from the home phone, so he knew it was in the house, but neither of us could determine the phone's exact location because he'd turned the ringer off at church.

We were both perplexed as we searched, but true to his nature, Garry was calm and collected (I would have been a frustrated, explosive mess). Just as Garry had given up and decided to head to work sans phone, I opened the top drawer of his dresser. I rummaged a bit...and found the phone. I called to Garry, who was pretty surprised where I had found it. I felt a teensy bit like a hero.

And then I realized that The Case of the Missing Phone was my fault.

When I retired to bed last night, the phone was sitting atop the dresser (its usual spot, mind you), blinking a bright blue reminder light (it was Tooth Fairy night at our house...didn't want to forget again). In the dark, the flash was driving me crazy and preventing sleep. Instead of walking downstairs to ask Garry to take care of the flash, I tucked the phone in the top drawer. Still it blinked through the cracks. So I stuffed it under a shirt. Ah...darkness. Sleep.

And of course, because I have zero short-term memory these days, I had absolutely no recollection of these events as Garry was searching for his phone today.

Luckily for me, Garry laughed off my idiocy when I told him about it. And he probably whistled his way to work, simply glad to have his phone back. What a guy.

What is that sound?

Last night Garry and I were enjoying an episode of Wipeout around 10:00 when we heard a bizarre noise behind the couch. It sounded like a water hose aimed at the side of the house.

Wait a minute....

All at once I leaped over the couch and opened the boys' bedroom door, where I caught Zachary peeing on it. The noise and movement startled him, but it was obvious he was dead asleep. I ushered him to the bathroom where he could finish his business. It's a good thing I stayed to supervise, though; his next target was the garbage can! Once I was sure his aim was accurately trained on the toilet, I ran upstairs to get a can of Spot Shot for the carpet mess.

[Meanwhile, Garry was convulsing with laughter on the couch. Lest you judge him as completely useless, he had cleaned up about five rounds of Gavin puke (three of which got on Garry) earlier that night. It was definitely my turn to deal with bodily fluids.]

When I got back, Zach was wandering around the hall looking confused and Garry was laughing even harder. Garry had been telling Zach to flush the toilet and Zach just didn't get it. Apparently he went into the bathroom four times to do this little chore, but somehow the synapses misfired. Eventually I walked him into the bathroom, held his hand while he flushed, and guided him back to his bed. Silly boy.

There is also a footnote to this story. I fell asleep on the couch last night and made the mistake of leaving the can of Spot Shot by the boys' bedroom door when I stumbled up to bed. This morning Zachary emptied the aerosol can (it was probably 75% full) all over the place. He swears it was just on the carpet, but the entire basement reeks of the stuff.

Some day Zach's really going to be mad at me for publicizing this. I just need proof -- I don't make this stuff up!

Answer me this

Question:

How does a boy
who is beginning to read quite fluidly
and can spell "crazy man"
and write/paint it by himself
produce this?


Isn't this just a little bit bizarre?

Case closed

If you haven't read my last post, you might want to do that now. It contains the first part of this story. Here's the second part:

The case of the missing diaper bag left me feeling very unsettled. I talked to my neighbor and learned she had found the cup and the book in the street. A few minutes later, the neighbor drove off and found two of my board books at a nearby intersection. She brought them back to my house. We decided whoever took the bag must have started rooting through it and tossed out these inconsequential items. It seemed we might be able to follow a trail of baby belongings and ultimately find the bag.

I was so grateful that my wallet, phone, camera, and checkbook were stowed safely in a separate purse. The thief wouldn't find anything particularly valuable in the diaper bag, so we hoped the chances of recovering it were good.

Garry, who got home from work just after I finished my last post, received the news with as much incredulity as I felt. We felt mystified and violated. We contemplated calling the police but anticipated their laughter at such a silly report. I almost emailed the head of our neighborhood watch but opted to do it later. Garry and I still wanted to get on with our date! We jumped in the car and started scouring the streets, hoping to pick up the diaper bag trail.

Just a few blocks away, at the entrance to our subdivision, we spotted the bag! It was tucked behind some bushes, right next to a brick wall. If we hadn't been scouring for it, we never would have seen it. I jumped out of the car and snatched the bag, surprised that it was so full.

As we examined the bag, the truth quickly became apparent: there was no thief.

Though Tyler left diaper bag in the driveway, its strap must have caught in the van's sliding door. The cup and book most likely fell out when I backed out of the driveway. When I stopped at the first neighborhood intersection, two more books fell out (and I probably ran over them...they have some road rash). It seems the van dragged the bag five blocks, and then, when I stopped at a bigger intersection, the bag somehow fell free from the door's mighty grip. I drove on, oblivious, leaving the bag behind. Some kind soul probably saw the diaper bag and tucked it safely away where we would find it if we went looking.


The items I stowed in the outer pockets of the bag -- containers of formula and cereal, a spoon, a bib, a bottle, a binky -- are thrashed. The pockets are full of dirt, the plastic webbing from the straps is melted and torn, and the side pouches are torn. The interior contents -- extra clothes and diapers -- are perfectly preserved. I'm just glad to have my stuff back, ruined or not.

I am most grateful for the renewed sense of peace and security I feel now that I know the missing diaper bag was my fault! Thoughts of a creepy guy trolling my neighborhood streets made me very uncomfortable. I'm so glad this crazy experience just amounted to good blog fodder!

And hey, since I am now out one very functional diaper bag...can any of you recommend a great one?

The case of the missing diaper bag

I just dropped my kids off at a good friend’s house for the evening. I watched her kids last Saturday and now she’s returning the favor so Garry and I can go on a date.

On the way out the door, I asked Tyler to carry the diaper bag. Zach had the swim suits and towels, my arms were full of baby and purse and keys, so the lot fell on him. Ty struggled with the *massive* bag, which was packed with all manner of baby items one might need to care for an eight-month-old for five hours. I teased him across the driveway; he was laughing at his load by the time we hit the van. I went around to get Gavin in and assumed Tyler heaved the bag into the van. Not so.

Once we arrived at Kym’s, the boys made a mad dash to the house. I got Gavin out and reached for the bag, but it wasn’t there. On second glance, it wasn’t anywhere. I asked Tyler where he put the bag and he admitted he left it in the driveway because it was too heavy. Lame! So I went home to fetch it.

The problem I discovered upon arriving at home was that the bag was nowhere to be found. Stacked neatly on my porch were a sippy cup and a board book, both of which had been carefully packed in the diaper bag. Did someone really steal my bag but purposefully leave a cup and a book behind?

There has to be another explanation, right?

Wordles

My dad's blog recently featured "word clouds" from Wordle.net. I thought it would be fun to make one of my own (since I have nothing better to do at 3:30 in the morning when I can't sleep).


This Wordle represents the blog post "Yesterday in My Life." I think it's interesting to note which people and activities are emphasized more than others.

I made this one from the 6.15.08 post called "Adjustments," which talks about everyone in the family:

Here are Wordles for...

Zachary:

Tyler:

Gavin:

I am sufficiently entertained for the moment. Time to try sleeping again!