The diaper service war

This man better get his new diapers.

Since Max's last encounter with Louisa, he's put himself on a sumo-wrestler diet. It's had repercussions.

First, he's on Zantac twice a day. I was a little disturbed by this. However, babies apparently have more trouble with acid reflux, and it probably doesn't help that Max fills himself up, I believe, to his gullet, on every feeding, which is very often. We all noticed Max becoming happier after Zantac was brought into his life, but this certainly doesn't include the administration of said drug. During a moment when Max and Mommy are looking at each other, I put a plastic syringe in his mouth filled 0.3 ml of pink liquid that, at best, tastes like Robitussin. Then the syringe is inserted quickly in his mouth and squirted, which is where the fog of war begins. If Max is fast enough, he wrenches his head out of the way and the Zantac streams down his cheek. Smart move - I'd rather give him too little than too much, so he avoids most of the pain. If he's not fast enough, he gets the full dosage and we watch helplessly (okay, helplessly isn't the right term - we did this to him) as he glares at me and makes angry sounds as if, umm, he was forced to take medicine. We follow this up quickly with feeding to minimize whatever permanent emotional scarring we are giving him.

Max before and after Zantac. Delia gave him the Zantac while I took the photo. Max glares at Delia for a long time after the Zantac administration, clearly navigating the icy waters of revenge.
Max pondering judgement.

Second, we use a diaper service that takes our used cloth diapers somewhere and replaces them with washed ones. They are very environmentally conscious and don't use bleach, which helps explain the occasional yellow stains on the diapers and perhaps some infections. This is Grass Valley - we are lucky to even have a diaper service, and they otherwise are very nice and professional.

Nonetheless, they also need to make money, which perhaps explains this awkward conversation with them.

TODD: Hi, we tried out a couple larger diapers and now we need to completely switch over.
SERVICE: OK, are you sure? I think smaller diapers are right for newborns - we usually give our larger diapers to babies over 3 months old.
TODD: Yeah, I'm sure.
SERVICE: (Hesitantly): OK, so you want 60 diapers, then?
TODD: Ummm...We get more than that, don't we?
SERVICE: (Pause): We usually give 60 diapers a week when babies get to that size.
TODD: How many diapers are we using now?
SERVICE: About 120.

Now ponder, if you may, 120 diapers per week. First, there are 168 hours in a week. Considering that Max uses disposables during the night - at least 8 hours per day - we go through one diaper an hour. Now, there are times when we use several to clean up, umm, Max's tailings, but it takes an impressive combination of binge eating and fussiness to require this record-setting number. We are now paying a diaper surcharge.

Guitar Hero

I know this blog is about Max, but I want to take a detour. Recently I played guitar in front of a live audience in Grass Valley, and it went really well. I have footage of my solo below.




Actually, I was very encouraged by the car ride home from Roseville. Max was crying in the backseat, so I tried some wussy song from XM Cafe to calm him down. He cried harder. So I turned the station and Led Zeppelin "Heartbreaker" came blaring out. Max calmed down! Thus far, he shows excellent taste in music.

The revelation

Actually, there was no revelation. But here's a cool photo we took from our car on the way to Roseville.

PF Chang's, Figure 1. Max has quickly gained weight but is not shown here.

PF Chang's, Figure 2. Max is at bottom right.

SCENE: PF Chang's, Roseville Galleria. Delia, Adriana, and Todd are at a table. Max is in a stroller facing Todd.

Todd: (Looks at Max.)
Max: (Looks at Todd.) WAAAAAAAHHHH!!!!
Todd: Looks at food.
Max:
Todd (Looking at Delia): Delia, how's Max doing?
Delia (Seeing Max from side): He seems okay.
Todd: (Looks at Max.)
Max: (Looks at Todd.) WAAAAAAHHH! WAAAAAHHH!!!

This was not my proudest moment. Max is 7 weeks old and he already hates me. But, with Max more and more uncontrollable in PF Chang's, and figuring he'd have to deal with me anyway, I took him outside to see if I could do something.

Outside of PF Chang's, Max still stared at me, but the crying stopped. He was fine until I brought him back in the restaraunt, when he started up again. In fact, I eventually carried him across a windswept, cold parking lot, and he didn't complain until he was back in the car.

I really don't know what happened - I'm guessing we overdressed him, or perhaps he doesn't like the Westernized decor of the middlebrow box chain - but I've noticed that eye contact will sometimes set him off when he's not feeling great. I wonder: Is he trying to talk to me?

You may wonder: "Where are the photos?" I'm setting up an account on Picasa so, if you wish, you can skip all the wit and wisdom and go straight to them.