I was reading about what is causing our health care costs to rise and repeatedly noted that 78,000,000 (78 Million for you three-zero-comma challenged) Baby Boomers are hitting retirement age and subject to the extra medical needs that all old people need; and that these same old-farts-to-be will have at least $166,000 in out of pocket medical expenses if retiring today and living to 100.
Do you realize that if we killed off the Baby Boomers*, the U.S. could apply almost $13,000,000,000,000 to the deficit?? Of course, if you want conservative numbers since not all of these BBs will live to be 100, we could lower the estimate to $6,000,000,000,000.
13 Trillion Dollars (or a minimum of 6 trillion)!
Hey, you want to talk Death Panel? I’ve got your Death Panel right here!
*To my two sisters who are technically categorized as Baby Boomers. . . I’ll miss you. Really.
If you use a feed reader (Bloglines, Google.Reader, etc.), here’s a tip I use to remember passwords to protected sites.
More than likely, you will have an option to rename a subscription. Say for example, you could change “Punch Drunk” to “Self-Absorbed Hack”. . . If you wanted to, that is.
I amend the names of subscriptions by adding the password: “Punch Drunk” becomes “Punch Drunk: pw lilliputian”.
Now I can’t share my list of reads in Reader, even though I can share individual posts, so I could inadvertently and carelessly share a password. However, I would never “share” a pwp blog or post. That would be stupid. Don’t be stupid.
Bloglines does allow you to share your list, so you’ll want to be careful there.
I embarrassed to admit that I am a sucker for baby girl’s clothes. The tights. The baby dresses with matching undies. The shoes. Oh, yes, the shoes! OK, so I’m actually not a sucker for BUYING the clothes, but I find myself weakening considerably when I walk past Baby Gap. And she only has three pairs of shoes.
It wasn’t that long ago that I found a pair of these jeans for ZGirl. Cute, right?
But jeans can be stiff and scratchy and hot and just…ugh! for the little goobers. Still, cute.
But these jeans aren’t really jeans. They’re stretchy leggings, boot cut. I love boot-cut. They make the diaper butt look smaller. True for adults as well.
I loved these “jeans” so much that I went back to the store and picked up sizes 24 mos (really? 24 mos? What’s wrong with 2T?) 3T and 4T.
The price for such an acquisition?
FOR ALL FOUR.
Here’s the secret: the store is unfortunately The Mecca for the Mental; A Bastion of the Bat Shit Crazy; The Interior Designs Supplier for the Double Wide.
Let me distract you from my brief lapse in sanity. Look! Cuteness that is my little Rocker Girl! And yes, that is a drum stick in her hand. We start ’em young here. By the way? Shirt, courtesy of the Baby Boy’s department at Target.
Well, it’s not…
- Chicken Pox
- Fifths Disease
- Hand, Foot & Mouth
- Molluscum Contagiosum
But he does think it’s viral, especially since at the last visit a week ago to the pediatrician, the other guy said she had an ear infection (but I’m still rolling my eyes at that one) and the loose stools.
The rash on her face is most likely contact dermatitis, a.k.a.: Drool Face.
I know. The suspense was killing you. But now you know as much as I do about ZGirl’s rash, which really if you were to sit back in your chair and gaze up to your ceiling and contemplate, it wouldn’t be much at all.
So, uh, yeah. Carry on with your weekends, people.
So. Now what do you think?
Did I mention here that ZGirl has another rash of some type or another?
After her week off from daycare while Mr. DD was in Boston, the Sunday before her return back to daycare (this is important), I noticed little tiny bumps under her chin, but lots of them. A couple were even on each of her cheeks, above her mouth, and on her sweet little eyelids. Her EYELIDS.
We took her to the see the pediatrician right away who diagnosed her with a teething rash. Try some hydrocortisone and vaseline, he said. Since he’s not ZGirl’s regular pediatrician, I was skeptical. He’s always been off on her past diagnoses.
The days passed and they got worse. As I described on facebook last night, she looks like a PMSing, 15 year old girl. She’s a wreck. A hot mess. Not only that, the rash has spread to her trunk, groin and upper back. Like a prickly heat rash.
The daycare noticed that when she first shows up in the morning, she doesn’t look bad. By the end of the day? See the “Hot Mess” comment above.
HOWEVER, I have to admit that I don’t think this is daycare related. Remember how I said they started showing up after her week off from daycare?
It was suggested that it might be a yeast rash, which it kind of looks like. Another suggested was hand, foot & mouth infection, which I don’t think it is because the sores don’t open and she eats well (no inside mouth sores) and no fevers.
I’d post pictures for you M.D.’s out there (or M.D.’s via Google), but I haven’t had much time to do more than eat supper when we all get home for the day. I’ll try to later as once we figure this out, it might be helpful for the next person.
I did get some new detergent, dye and perfume free, and rewashed the clothes and blankets she was going to use today. We’ll see what happens.
OOOH! I just had another thought: she on whole milk exclusively. Could that possibly be it? Regular formula and she drank whole milk in limited quantities before. Her colon has been on overdrive as well, going from one regular BM to now at least 4 to 5. Thoughts? Opinions??
BTW, in 30 minutes I’ll be at the dentist’s with XBoy. I’m going to find out if they can give him something other than (or in addition to) nitrous since I think we will go ahead and get those baby teeth pulled, but not today.
There are days that I get so angry and worked up, I can barely complete a simple task *.
I am angry that I have to consider a job opportunity 30 miles away. Maybe not a big deal to you city dwellers who are accustomed to a two hour commute one way, but this farm girl with a penchant for instant gratification will find the drive an equivalent of water boarding.
I am angry that the people yelping the most about the healthcare reform are those who HAVE healthcare. A (conservative) friend of mine said that the reform will just make those who don’t have insurance (because they are on Medicaid or don’t have a job) more likely NOT to get a job. It’ll “keep e’m lazy”, she said. Hey, that’s just awesome. Thanks for lumping me in with that group. So reward those who are on Medicaid by letting them KEEP Medicaid and let the few like me who don’t qualify for any healthcare without facing bankruptcy suffer for the many. Perfect answer.
I am angry that the people who proclaim their patriotism the loudest are the ones who love to throw around endearing terms like “King Hussein”. I get the whole “freedom of speech gives me carte blanche to spew my verbal diarrhea”, but don’t preach to me how you think this whole country is going in the shitter because of “King Hussein”. It’s going to the shitter because you’re an ignorant, fear-mongering, vitriol-filled, a-hole that does nothing but BITCH to anyone who will listen instead of educating yourself.
In addition to the previous paragraph, I’m angry about the endless and utterly ridiculous comparison of President Obama to Hitler. See both the Rude Pundit’s and Suz’s posts for a couple of succinct and eloquent summarizations.
I am angry that some ignorant woman believes she’ll carry her twelve fetuses to term and give birth to them NATURALLY and that she’ll get to hug them, and squeeze them and call them George, Jr., George III, George IV, etc., etc.. Actually, I’m sure that the healthcare in Tunisia is quite topnotch, especially since it must be an international hub, squeezed there between Algeria and Libya. Anyone else find it unbelievable that the expectant mother claims to be carrying six boys and six girls? I doubt that she’s even beyond 9 weeks, much less far enough along to make out the sex of each baby. I bet Suelman is pissed to be not just one-upped, but four-upped!
I am angry that while a certain Holy Roller Christian Blogger pleaded for forgiveness for stealing content from another More Famous Blogger under the guise of, “I just read her book and her words were so true!”, no one seems to have noticed that Holy Roller stole the words of another Not As Famous Blogger and since now Holy Roller is moderating her comments, her readers are faithfully continuing to follow her and stroking her poor, sweet, innocent head and telling her how wonderful and God-fearing she is and “of course we forgive you as you certainly meant no harm to More Famous Blogger who is siccing her evil minions upon you”… and I want to fucking choke someone. If she stole from two bloggers, she’s stolen from more and no one seems to care.
I am angry because I care that no one cares and that I shouldn’t care. It’s none of my damned business anyway, right?
I am angry that I’ve procrastinated until the very last evening before school starts to write my son’s name on 64 fucking crayons and sharpen 48 fothermucking pencils (oh, and yes, I have to get his name on them, too) and resist the temptation to just shave XBoy’s head bald tonight while he sleeps since there won’t be any time to get it cut according to the school’s policy before Wednesday morning! Not to mention that the yard hasn’t been mowed in three weeks and I am out of diapers. Well, *I’m* not out of diapers; ZGirl is.
* And dammit! Why the hell can’t I get two goddamned paperclips separated?! It’s not brain surgery!
Just WHAT exactly are YOU angry about today?
Michael Vick was making $35,000 a year as a shop mechanic before serving a prison term after he was found guilty for torturing dogs. After serving his time, another mechanic’s shop hired him.
No one in the community, much less the nation, batted an eyelash. Not so True story.
So is everyone in a tizzy over his reinstatement into the NFL because instead of only making $35K, Vick stands to make $1.6 million? Or is it because we are under some false impression that pro-athletes need to be pillars of inspiration to the community and its children?
I’m usually the first to throw any nutless, animal abusing, asshole under the bus, but I’m not sure why – out of the obscene number of wife-beaters, drunk-drivers and petty-larceners – anyone is depleting their reserves of indignant anger on this inhuman waste of space.
ZGirl fell down the stairs at my SIL’s house this weekend. In a moment of brilliant parenting, I let her toddle off to the living room while I sat in the kitchen. Of course I knew there were stairs, but didn’t think about it. I’m only guessing what happened since my nose was buried in a wine glass, but it would seem she decided to follow one of the older toddlers up the stairs. It wasn’t until I heard a bumpity-bump-WHUMP, followed by high-pitched screaming did I come running.
I found her on the third step from the bottom, in an open-mouthed-carp-out-of-water launch for the next unholy screech that was delivered in full red-zone audio directly into my ear canal as I snatched her up into my arms. The steamroller finally stopped backing over the cat, which was stuffed in a waterlogged set of bagpipes no less than 10 minutes later.
XBoy, who was sitting on the floor playing, said she fell all the way down from the top. I almost ripped him a new one since obviously he witnessed not only the fall but the ascent to where he knew she shouldn’t be, but hello? I’m the mom. I was the one who failed Parenting 101.
She’s fine but for the rug burn on top of her head.
I’ve been mentally flogging myself with a crap-filled diaper that’s been left in the 100 degree heat and humidity since then, all the while with each sloggy thump, I’m chanting, “stupid!, stupid!, stupid!”.
We were at my SIL’s this weekend for supper, and while sitting there digesting, SIL’s daughter asked her mom if could have the bunk-beds that were in the spare bedroom.
. . . Just in case they “decide to go for a third one”.
Wouldn’t you know? Hearing how easy it is for most to manage their family size when they do nothing more than think about it is still like a punch to the chest.
I use to try to be magnanimous and would say that I wouldn’t want anyone to have to go through what we did, but you know what? I wish it was more difficult for the average couple to conceive and deliver a child.
I could gloss over my reasons by saying maybe they’d appreciate their children more; maybe there would be fewer abused children; maybe there would be fewer neglected children.
But really, the reason I wish that it wasn’t so easy? It’s so I wouldn’t have to feel so disconnected from my husband’s family who I once felt a great bond with, in the beginning, before our first miscarriage.
It’s immediately apparent to a couple when there’s a miscarriage or a failed cycle what is gone, but I think the hardest long-term loss has been the repeated sense of not being normal, of not belonging.
That painful rock had settled to the bottom of the pond long ago, but I still feel the rippling effect on my heart almost every day.
This will be a quickie, since Mr. DD (who arrived safe and fairly sound last night from his week-long trip to Boston) thinks I’m doing something productive like creating an ebay listing…
The video monitor we have for ZGirl is actually a combination of a small screen TV and a home-improvement store-bought surveillance camera. Combined, the cost was only a tad more than buying a good quality “baby” monitor, but the benefit was worth it.
I’m basically as blind as a bat without either my glasses or contacts. The small screen TV sits on my nightstand and it’s about a 11-13″ flat-monitor screen so it actually takes up little space (if you had to, you could mount it to the wall). Those baby monitor screens run about 5-7″ and that just won’t cut it. Granted, my version isn’t portable, but we also use audio monitors so IF we had to go outside or whatever, we could still be within shouting distance.
It’s fun watching ZGirl play in her natural habitat without her knowing we are watching. We’ve caught XBoy going in there in the mornings to entertain her and that’s cuter than heck, too.
I would only warn you that if you decide to get any kind of video monitor that has infrared for night vision that your baby’s eyes will glow creepily when they are open at night. It can be a little disconcerting at first.
The other night as I had given the house the equivalent of a whore-bath once over, I went in to check on the now sleeping kids. I shut off XBoy’s desk lamp and then headed to ZGirl’s room. I heard her as she restlessly rolled from side to side, but assumed she was still asleep.
When I peeked into her crib, I saw her big eyes staring up at me.
I froze like a statue. Stupidly, I thought if I didn’t move she couldn’t see me in the dark. But babies are like bears. Their keen sense of smell can make out maternal exhaustion, which triggers their innate Play mechanism, even at 11:00 at night.
She lifted her head to get a better look at me and smiled this ridiculously cute smile at me.
Me? I’m standing there, halted in mid-step, still not moving.
“Really, ZGirl, it’s just a statue. Go back to sleep. You’re dreaming that mommy is standing by your crib.”
Mentally projecting those thoughts didn’t help. I’m not sure why.
I couldn’t stand there all night and had to make the decision to do or die. So finally I reached in and stroked her face and whispered good night and quietly left the room
I lucked out. She didn’t make a peep and went back to sleep.
Next time, I’ll just go to my room and check the video monitor.
Or send Mr. DD into the bear’s den.
I sent out a Desperate for Friends request on facebook. If you got a request from a women wearing strange glasses too big for her face, and her first name starts with D and her last name starts with D, that’s me.
Also, if you have a facebook account, you can find me using my email address: ddattko (at) gmail (dot) com.