Sunday, October 26, 2008

My Mom is Doctor Quinn

For the past week I've been routinely succombed to violent fits of coughing in what I hope is the final stage of a nasty, nasty sinus infection. John can gauge how sick I am by whether or not I'm willing to take cough syrup. I hate the stuff. I absolutely hate it. And while my mother raised me to not use the "h" word because it's a very, very strong word, strong feelings call for strong words. I'm using the word quite appropriately.

My hatred could stem back to the time I was five. I had a stubborn ear infection and my mom picked up some antibiotics for me--the label of which read, "Take 5 teaspoons 3x daily." So I did. And I cried at every dosage. Three days into this routine I took my fifth teaspoon and threw up, prompting my mom to call the pharmacy where it was revealed the label had a typo. I was to take ONE teaspoon three times a day. A total of three teaspoons a day as opposed to the fifteen I had been taking.

I hate the stuff. I try to avoid it. Which is why when my coughing kept me awake a few nights ago I tried the teaspoon of honey trick...didn't work. Out of desperation I tried one of my mom's newest remedies: slather Vicks ointment on the soles of your feet, put on thick socks and go to bed. Seriously, that's it.

It worked. It totally worked. I did it in the midst of a coughing spell and found instant relief that lasted for thirty minutes. If at any point I was awoken in the middle of the night, I pulled out the Vicks and again found instant relief. Apparently, this is especially helpful for kids. Meanwhile, John feels like he's sleeping in a jungle of menthol and eucalyptus.

(For the record, I did find that the cough suppressant Delsym tastes a little less like death than all the others. I was presenting a paper in Atlanta and after realizing the thick socks and wafting menthol were the not the look I was going for, I took the stuff. That's just some info for all of you other cough syrup haters out there.)

Sunday, October 12, 2008

Sam Stats

Here's the latest scoop on Sam, Mom.

Sam's new favorite place to play is at the fridge with his magnets. Yeah, there's a blanket behind him because he occasionally bites it.

Sam has developed what I call a jack-o-lantern grin. He randomly gives this face throughout the day--including when he finishes his last bottle at 7 pm and is half asleep.

Sam has political preferences. I asked if he was going to vote for McCain. He gave his jack-o-lantern grin. When I asked about Obama he shook his head no. We've got a young Republican on our hands. No more Fox News for Sam.

Sam is a fan of pumpkins.

Sunday, October 05, 2008

Those Trixy Doctors

I came away from Sam's 9-month check-up feeling tricked. During the visit I had the following conversation with his pediatrician:

Doctor: How does Sam sleep at night.
Me: Great. He does really well.
Doctor: Good. What's he doing?
Me: He goes to bed at 7 pm and wakes up at 7 am. I normally feed him sometime between 2-3 am.
Doctor: You know Sam doesn't have to eat anymore in the middle of the night.
Me: What?
Doctor: At six months babies are capable of sleeping through the night without a feeding. You can let him cry it out.

I suppose that's good information to receive...I just wish I had received it, oh, I don't know, three months ago? I felt a bit tricked when I learned I could have been getting some extra sleep. Almost as tricked as I felt after Sam was born and I learned there was a little button I could have pressed to increase the epidural...but that's a story for another day.

Anyway, just when I was getting up the nerve to let Sam cry it out, he surprised me and slept all night. All night. 7 pm to 7 am without a peep. And yes, I was convinced he had stopped breathing. So far it doesn't seem to be a fluke. He's been sleeping through the night for the past week. It's a new era in the Drury household.

Thursday, October 02, 2008

Apparently I have a secret life, too. Or so says Starbucks lady.

Okay, so maybe I have a secret life as a part-time model as well. A life that's SO secret I didn't even know about it myself. The following conversation took place a few days ago with the Starbucks kiosk lady from Mexico:
Her: I see your picture on the bulletin board.
Me: You did? Where?
Her: Over here. Come.
Me: Oh. That’s not me.
Her: Yes it is.
Me: Not it’s not.
Her: That girl is you.
Me: No, it’s not me.
Her: Doesn’t she look like you?
Me: Yes, but it’s not me.
Her: Do you have a shirt like that?
Me: I do, but that’s not me.
Her: I think that’s you.
Me: That’s not me. She just looks like me.
(Stranger walks by)
Her: Does this look like her?
Me: It’s not me.
Stranger: Huh. It looks like you.
Me: It’s not.
Stranger: Okay.
(Stranger walks away)

I've actually had many, many conversations along these lines since this poster is plastered all over campus.