A Blog by Any Other Name has a new name

Well, I've changed the name of this blog. So I guess it turns out that the other name for the Blog by Any Other Name is "Adventures in Parenting". As lame as this might be, I've decided that I'm just going to use this blog as a journal of sorts to keep track of the various Bree and Evy things that Mom always says I should write down.

ER visit

So, we took Evy to the emergency room last night. She and Bree both have been fighting a cough/cold for the last week or so, and while Bree's has gotten significantly better over the past few days, Evy's developed into the full-fledged croup -- complete with the "barking" cough and constricted breathing. She's fine now, but tonight we'll probably have another all-night vigil making sure she's still breathing OK.

Yesterday, she was laughing and playing in typically good spirits, but I noticed her stopping to catch her breath several times throughout the day. When we put her to bed last night, her breathing was labored and rattly, and every few minutes she would bark out a coughing spasm. It was just painful to hear. Andrea contacted the pediatrician's on-call nurse, and was told just to watch her and call back if anything got worse. Well, needless to say, things got worse.

I think Andrea was up with Evy pretty much all night, but about 3 AM, I woke up to the sound of our baby girl crying and coughing uncontrollably. The on-call nurse said that croupy babies typically wake up coughing, scare themselves, and then start crying, just making the whole thing worse, and that's exactly what happened with our little lamb. It just sounded awful. She'd cry and half cough/half wheeze out the rest of her breath, then suck in what more breath she could through a swollen throat. Meanwhile Andrea was doing all she could just to calm the girl down. She was following the nurse's instructions of alternating between steamy baths and taking her outside to breathe the cold damp air.

It sounds crazy, but taking a kid out into the cold night air is really one of the best things you can do for croup. The cool humidity helps to relax the constricted airways so the child can breathe more easily. In fact, the breathing treatment they gave Evy at the ER was simply a cool mist. It may have been some kind of medicine, but I would guess it was simply a vaporized saline solution of some sort. She was also given a steroid to help her body fight off the virus, and we were given a prescription for a few days' worth as well. The doctors also took some X-rays to make sure there was no liquid in her lungs, etc. and all of that was clear.

The thing that made us pull the trigger last night was vomit. I think that Evy just got so worked up in the crying/coughing milieu that she threw up. She wasn't otherwise sick to her stomach, and normally a little throw up might not be such a big deal, but last night it was just the straw that broke the camel's back. I called the on-call nurse again immediately, and after listening to Evy's troubled breathing over the phone, the nurse recommended that we take her in.

So, when we got home from the hospital at 4:30 or so, I could not go to sleep because I kept thinking of writing this journal entry. I should have been dog tired, but the wheels just kept on turning. I didn't get up though. Not until 11:30.

Man, I wish we would have hired Caedmon's...

I don't have many regrets in life. Sure, I've done plenty of things that I kind of wish I had done differently, or better, or maybe not at all. In fact, lots of things come to mind. And maybe I would feel differently about this whole thing if I had more of what I deserve rather than the blessings God has spoken into my life. But considering that the life I live at this moment is the culmination of all the decisions I've made (good and bad), and considering that I frickin' love my life, I don't look back and wish I could change very many things.

(Yeah, yeah, I know..."Whoever loves his life will lose it..." Well, when the Lord calls me home, I'll love that life too. Being happy in the moment is just one positive aspect of having a Sanguine-Phlegmatic personality.)

There is, however, one particular event in my life that I wish I would have done differently. All three of you that read this blog are probably thinking that I'm referring to joining up with Amway while I was in college. But no, even that little episode taught me some good lessons and established two solid lifelong friendships. Or some of you who know a little more about my sordid history may be thinking I regret my decision to get so deeply involved with Agamemnon. (Yes, in case you're wondering, I have indeed changed her name to protect the innocent. Come to think of it, neither one of us was innocent in that little fiasco, but everybody who needs to know that story already knows that story. And it's going to take a few beers to loosen up my tongue any further. I like Labatt Blue, by the way.) Although she may feel differently, I'm still glad that she and I dated. We made some bad decisions, and we got way too serious way too fast (Engaged after only three months? What were we thinking?) Everybody tried to talk sense to us, but we were too blind to see the mess that we were making. Even though it ended badly; even though we very nearly ruined each other's lives; even though I thank God almost daily that He directed us out of that situation with relatively little negative repercussion, I still feel like my life was blessed by hers. I really don't regret the overall experience. She was (and still is, I imagine) a wonderful person. We just handled the relationship very poorly.

Granted, those are biggies, but no, they are not the one past decision that keeps coming back to haunt me. My one big regret is hiring Bobby McFerrin to do a benefit concert for Christian Networks. Borrowing a phrase from my good buddy John McAlister, that whole thing was snake bit from the very beginning. Don't get me wrong, I really like Bobby McFerrin's music. I think he is incredibly talented. Did you know that "Don't Worry, Be Happy" was a joke that came out of Bobby's riffing at the piano, and it turned out to be a Top 40 hit? But his true talent is displayed in music such as his collaborations with world renowned concert cellist Yo-Yo Ma in reworking classical instrumental music into vocal masterpieces that only he has the talent to perform. Knowing this, my boss Gordy and I decided to hire him to do a benefit concert, thinking that the world would want to come see Bobby McFerrin perform and support Christian Networks at the same time.

BIG MISTAKE! The world wanted nothing to do with either one of us. We promoted that concert to no end. Billboards, magazine ads, radio spots...I was even interviewed on the radio about the concert and the ministry. We just couldn't get anybody to buy tickets. And the expenses were outrageous! Rather than raising money to support our mission in Africa, we ended up losing thousands. I lost my job. I'm not sure quite how much longer Christian Networks survived, but I think that concert kind of broke its back, and at best it limped on a little while longer before the whole organization collapsed. I don't know...Maybe it wasn't that bad, but it sure felt that way to me.

One of the concert alternatives that we considered, but pushed aside when we got on the McFerrin train, was Caedmon's Call. I knew who they were at the time, but I had not really gotten into their music yet. Now, I can't get enough of it. Bringing in their entire band would have cost us less than half as much as the "reduced" fee that Bobby McFerrin charged us to show up solo. And we could have done the show at a local church instead of the Rose State Concert Hall, again saving tons of money. Looking back on it now, we definitely should have hired Caedmon's. Not only are they absolutely brilliant musicians, but their music and ministry much better lined up with ours than Mr. McFerrin's. And one little call to K-LOVE would have packed the place out with Christian teeny-boppers and college beatniks. And how cool would it have been to go out to Denny's with Caedmon's and have another late night over pancakes after the show? Every time I put in a Caedmon's CD and have my heart touched by their music, I'm reminded of the concert that could have been. Man, I wish we would have hired Caedmon's.

How to Do Vegas Better, and other stuff that's been on my mind

So last weekend, I went to Las Vegas for my brother-in-law Tim's bachelor party. By the end of our four day fiesta, we learned a few lessons that will make our next visit to Vegas better.

Lesson One: If visiting Las Vegas on a bachelor party, do not -- under any circumstances -- allow the bachelorette to hold her party in Las Vegas at the same time. Yes, believe it or not, that really happened on this trip. She says it's merely coincidence, but Denecia just happened to schedule her bachelorette party at the same time not just in Las Vegas, but yea in the very same hotel in which we stayed! If she ever reads this, Denecia will probably rip me a new one for even bringing this up, because that very bachelorette just now came home from the Las Vegas hospital today after an emergency over the weekend, but in all honesty, she shouldn't have been there in the first place.

Lesson Two: Take full advantage of the discount ticketeers stationed all around Vegas. Using Tix4Golf.com, Tix4shows.com, yadda yadda yadda, we purchased half-priced tickets to a few things, but we didn't take advantage of it enough. Just like Priceline does for hotels and airlines, these guys do for Vegas entertainment. A tee time wasted is time that the golf course can't get back. An empty seat at the Cirque du Soleil show is just an empty seat, but the show must go on. So these discount companies jump in there and get the seats filled. They've got connections to shows, restaurants, golf, tours...you name it. It's really a great way to get the most for your money on your Las Vegas trip.

Lesson Three: Play video blackjack and poker rather than the tables to strech your gambling budget. Unless you're a serious high-roller, the cocktail waitresses visit the slots just as often as they do the low-limit tables. But rather than risking $10 or $5 per hand -- three if you visit the casinos with grimy chips -- you'll only have a quarter a hand at risk. I even found one for a nickel a hand at Green Valley Ranch. Use the extra to tip your hard working waitress, and she'll keep coming around. And if you're with a group of guys, you can camp out around a video blackjack cluster, pool the tips, charm the waitress, and keep her coming around as often as possible. If you ask (and if you tip well enough), your waitress will probably even put you on automatic refill mode and just keep your tasty adult beverages coming as long as you're sitting there.

Lesson Four: Do the stuff that you can only do in Vegas. I know this kind of goes against Lesson Three since you can play video poker and blackjack online or at any neighborhood Indian casino, but the lesson applies for most everything else. Cirque du Soleil, for example, has at least three or four permanent shows that are only in Las Vegas. They tour other shows, but it's challenging to put the elaborate sets of Ka and O on a tour bus. It should be a crime to visit Vegas and not see a Cirque show. They are truly unbelievable! If you haven't seen one yet, you just can't quite imagine how incredible they are. And each show is surprisingly unique. Along the same lines, you should be sure to walk through as many of the themed hotels/casinos as you can. The canals and gondolas of the Venetian truly are strikingly similar to the real thing in Venice. New York New York is very cool to see, both inside and out. You can only see the largest Golden Nugget in the world in one place. Also, poker tournaments abound -- some for only twenty bucks or so. And the list goes on... I'm still kind of kicking myself for this, but I talked myself out of going to see Tom Jones in concert because I didn't want to get snapped in the back of the head by the cougar club's menopausal panties when their toss doesn't quite make it to the stage. Furthermore, I'm not sure if Tom appeals to the Angles crowd or not, but if so, I didn't relish the idea of my concert attendance being akin to an application to join their team. But on the other hand, it was Tom Jones in concert, man. He's awesome! Ah well, too late now.

Lesson Five: Get away from the Strip for a while. Whether it's Fremont Street, the Hoover Dam, Green Valley Ranch, a golf outing, whatever...Just get away from the endless neon mayhem of the Strip for a little while and do something else. Surprise! The rest of Las Vegas is actually a pretty normal place. We actually rented a car the day we played golf. Cab fare was over twenty bucks just to get to Fremont street, so I can't even imagine what it would be to get to the Badlands Golf and Country Club some thirty miles away from our hotel. When we stopped off at K-Mart along the way to pick up supplies, the locals stared at us funny, and you could see the unspoken question behind every set of eyes: "Are you lost, boys? They casinos are back that way. Please don't leave again." No, I'm just kidding. Actually they were really nice. Just normal people. It's just that you don't really expect to see normal people in Vegas. (That statement will probably get me in trouble.)

So, in conclusion, here is how I'll do Vegas next time:

Go to the discount ticket booth when we first arrive. Get what we want for the entire time we're in Vegas (or do the whole thing online ahead of time). Then stick to the following daily routine.

1. Golf in the morning.

2. Sit at the 25 cent blackjack slots until we've had enough to drink, or get in on a low buy-in poker tourney.

3. Eat a really good half-priced ribeye.

4. Go see a half-priced show in the evening.

5. Eat a late-night meal at a Vegas-only establishment.

Lather, Rinse, Repeat.

Earl's gotta die

So I neglected to mention the cat in my last post. The cat has been the source of much angst in our household for the last 3 or 4 weeks. You remember that place that the Bible talks about where there's weeping and gnashing of teeth? That's been our house since the cat moved in. Something had to be done. The cat's name wasn't Earl, by the way. We never really even got to the point of calling the cat anything other than "Cat," although after countless other suggestions, we finally received Bree's approval to name him Sieti, or C-A-T, or however else you want to phoneticize the word "cat". Oh yeah...creativity incarnate.

No, we didn't kill the cat. We gave it to Andrea's friend Stephanie, God bless her, as a less violent alternative. Andrea and I had dreamed about ways we could get away with killing it though. Bury it alive. Squish it in the garage door. Throw it in the dryer (that works, by the way...{insert reference to childhood experience here}). Rat poison in the food. Firecracker up the bunghole...As they say, there are many ways to skin a cat. No, I have every reason to believe that the cat is still alive. But if he continues to behave the same way at his new home that he did here, he may just turn into boxer chow before long.

Bree, of course, had a meltdown this afternoon when Stephanie took the cat away. She's over it now though. I think she was about as fed up with the cat as we were.

I know, you're probably saying to yourself that "it's just a kitten", "you didn't give it a chance," blah, blah, blah. No, you don't understand. You didn't LIVE with this cat. I'm the cat lover, and even I was ready to chunk the thing against the wall. This cat had no method of interaction that did not involve scratching and biting. The only way that I could keep him from biting my baby's toes was to let him bite mine instead. And, oh yeah, did I mention that he pooped in my sink? HE POOPED IN MY SINK! Unbelievable! He pooped in my sink. At least he aimed for the drain. Considerate of him, eh? And then he started spraying! This cat is not even old enough for his whoo-whoos to drop, but he's already spraying. Something had to be done.

On a side note, the pooping in the sink episode gave me a spiritual realization. Maybe whenever we sin, God feels like we're pooping in his sink. He's like, "Really? You just pooped in my sink?" Any of you pastors out there, feel free to add that little nugget to your repertoire. It'll go over really well with the Sunday night crowd.

My poor wife

Yeah, I figured that sympathizing with my wife would be a wise way to initiate myself into the world of internet publishing. How's that for euphemism, eh? Internet publishing. "Yeah, I found a publisher for all of my work. It's the internet. Not just anybody can put stuff online you know...er...Wait a minute..."

Oh yeah, back to my poor wife: So Andrea puts up with a lot of crap. She really does. Usually it's the girl in a relationship that just needs to talk, talk, talk, talk, talk all the time. What is it 10,000 words a day or something that girls typically dispense? And guys feel like their tongues are going to cramp up and die of exhaustion if they have to actually generate verbal communication more than once every hour. That's not the case in our house. At least not with Andrea.

God bless her, but I married an introvert. If Andrea were to blog, it would probably consist of no more than ten or twelve words, and those would comprise a to-do list of some sort. Don't get me wrong...Andrea is not "painfully" introverted by any means. She's actually quite socially-intelligent, however much she thinks she's the opposite. I believe that the very notion of recognizing there is such a thing as social intelligence speaks volumes about her understanding of how to behave around others. Maybe she puts her foot in her mouth from time to time, but don't we all? Gosh, I should have been fired from my job two or three times over for letting stupid jokes or goofy comments slip out of my mouth before my brain could tell it to shut.

So it's about stinking time that I finally started blogging. I come home from work on a typical day and start yammering on about whatever's on my mind, and Andrea gives me that look that tells me she's not even trying to listen. She's been dealing with Bree and Evy all day long and simply needs a break. A break for her ideally involves alone time with a book and a tall Espresso Truffle with extra whip, but at this point in the day, she'll usually settle for simply not having to tax her brain any further by adding my pointless drivel to the never-ending noise.

It's not that I "have to talk" like the three-year-old Breezer Bear, but it's nice to get my thoughts out from time to time, and my wife no longer has the patience for my long-winded yippity yap. I probably should have been journaling for most of my life, but I never really liked to handwrite because my pinky would always cramp up...and even I have trouble reading my own chicken scratch. ("Where do I keep the chicken," right Chad? Aw, who am I kidding? The Chad will probably never read this blog.) Anyway, blogging seems to be a great solution, and I finally have all the tools I need to do it -- a laptop paid for by the office; the magic fridge of wireless internet service that mysteriously manifests itself in my house; and now time to myself after the girls are down for the night because all Andrea has energy to do is rejuvenate herself by reading a book and going to bed early. All that, and blogging has the built-in benefit of catering to my natural tendency of never finishing anything. What a perfect outlet for me. At least for tonight.

(On a side note, I really hate typing on a laptop. At least ten times now already, I've somehow rubbed up against the wrong button or touchpad or something that has caused me to either open up a completely new tab on Google Chrome or erase what I've typed completely. Thank Bill Gates for Edit-Undo.)