Story meeting: discussing the next blog post
Sunday, June 26, 2011
Norm Nixon, The Fish That Saved Pittsburgh & Simia Belzebul
The kid turns one-month-old in three days. A lot has happened in her brief sojourn here on Terra: gay marriage in New York (somehow, she believes her birth had something to do with moving this along -- really, she's got a healthy ego, that one), Boston Bruins win the Stanley Cup, North Dakota is now the newest Great Lake (she didn't find the humor in my saying what with all the wet diapers, she probably did have something to do with moving that along...), first announcement of the withdrawal of troops from Afghanistan, the newest Pirates of the Caribbean movie, Pirates of the Caribbean, Collecting a Paycheck moved into the top 10 of highest grossing films ever, the whole Anthony Weiner thing (the kid was fascinated with that -- it was her first major news story) and well, I'm sure some other things have happened, but who the hell can remember what they are.
So, I asked her what she wanted her almost her birthday blog to be about? Books and literature? She's been working on a literary blog entry since last week, so I thought that might be what today's post would be. But, she said no that it wasn't quite up to her standards yet, and she would wait til later in the week to post that. What she really wanted to write about -- in fact, what she felt was imperative that she write about -- was gas.
I'm not at all surprised that this has come up in the blog, as it's been pretty much the main topic of conversation in our house for a couple of weeks now. It all started when we had an unforeseen and sudden need to change her formula.* The formula she'd been on had been working really well, but the new one...
Things got so bad with the gas-causing properties of this new formula that at one point I had the uneasy, sneaking
suspicion that we had adopted not a human baby, but a shaved howler monkey. Either that or Charles Manson has got some sort of Chucky thing going on with our daughter. Results should be back next week...
After one fateful, fitful night of constant screaming (me and the kid) due to her inability to pass gas -- one in which I'd done all the text book suggestions: pat her on the back, rub her belly, change her position, gently twist her at the waist, call in an exorcist -- it became apparent that we were going to have to do whatever it took to get her back on the original formula.
*NOTE: We started her on Organic Similac
(really people you need to read how horrible the ingredients in baby formulas can be. I'm just sayin'.) which had been provided to us unexpectedly by a Similac rep whom we met at the pediatrician's office prior to the kid's birth. The rep kindly gave us two cases and then promised more, since the organic formula can be hard to find in stores. We were thankful. The kid seemed to take to the formula immediately and all was well. Except that promise of more formula (the repeated promise, as in, I'm getting it to you today -- which was falsely promised SEVERAL times) fell flat and we were in the lurch to find a back-up. And, on a serious note, I'm not a big fan of baby formula in general. Google the subject sometime and see for yourself how bad baby formula can be, or read the hubpage article to the left about the dangers of Soy in baby formula OR visit mercola.com and investigate the subject. However, a baby's gots to eat!
Fortunately, my wife found some Organic Similac in a neighboring town, so we were able to avert a disaster of near epic proportions (those who successfully email in the number of cliches in each post will receive absolutely nothing). So, I know, none of this is particularly interesting and/or entertaining, but here's where things get good! You see -- wait a sec.
Oh, sorry. I've run out of time. I have to go. Well, needless to say, this story would've been extremely funny (a real knee-slapper) with lots of great descriptive phrasings, but as it would take another 1000 words or so to do it justice, it's best if we just leave it for another time.