Saturday, January 30, 2010
The Remote Car Starter
My parents (Robbie's parents) are awesome at Christmas. My mom goes all out and has since I was a little boy. She always set up games for me to play that made Christmas VERY memorable. Last Christmas was Password, the year before that was Wheel of Fortune, and the year before that was Punch-A-Bunch. This year, I got some great stuff, but what I want to focus on in this post was something that Rebecca got from them: a Remote Car Starter.
I know that the cold in Alabama is nothing like Siberia, but when you are used to 95 degrees, 15 degrees is REALLY cold. This winter has been especially cold for us in the South and so we were both really excited about the Remote Car Starter. It was a way for us to warm up Rebecca's car (for Taylor) without having to go outside 10 minutes before we were ready to leave.
I procrastinated for a while before getting the starter installed, but we finally got it installed on Friday, January 15. That night, we were over at Bobby and Kim's house (Rebecca's parents) seeing her brother, sister-in-law, and nephews before they went back home to Tampa, FL. The temperature that night was 26 degrees and so I did the remote car start thing and it worked awesomely. I was able to start up the car from the dining room window without even putting my jacket on. That's #1!
About 10 minutes later, Rebecca and I go out to our cars to leave. She puts Taylor in the car, goes around to the front passenger side to put her bags in seat, closes the door, and goes back to the back passenger seat for one more final check on Taylor before heading out. One problem ... the door is locked. In fact, all the doors are locked.
Rebecca immediately panics. She tells me that Taylor is locked in the car and frantically asks if there is a brick close by. Becca started crying. She decided she would just break her window to get to Taylor. I told her we could not do that and that I would call a locksmith. Rebecca was inconsolable. I asked her brother to take her inside while I sorted out the situation. We called her uncle Danny who used to be a car salesmen (and subsequently a car repo guy). He recommended we call the police. The police said they had no car unlocking equipment and recommended we call the Locksmith. That was a wasted three minutes.
The car was scorching at this point because the heat was all the way up and the air was blowing full blast. I called the Locksmith. He said he would be right there. Rebecca came back outside just as two cops rolled into the driveway. Our town is slightly more hardened than Mayberry and Police Officers routinely get cats out of trees and help get babies out of locked cars.
They stood there telling Rebecca things like, "I locked my kids in the car once. Everybody does it accidentally. Don't worry about it." That DID NOT help. Where is the locksmith? Rebecca thinks the baby is crying due to the heat. The cop shines his light in the window and she is sound asleep. The locksmith still wasn't here. Come on . . .
Finally, he arrived and took what appeared to be a plastic knife with a rubber band attached to the end out of his car. He got the lock to pop in less than 3 minutes and Rebecca consoled our comfortably sleeping baby.
Don't ask Rebecca about it. She will launch into a 10 minute dissertation about how the car locks as soon as you put your keys into the ignition whereas before it only locked when the car got up to 20 mph. For the record, she is correct. The remote car starter does suddenly make it lock when you put the keys in the ignition.
Hopefully this will be something we can look back at one day and laugh at. Rebecca is not there yet.
I know that the cold in Alabama is nothing like Siberia, but when you are used to 95 degrees, 15 degrees is REALLY cold. This winter has been especially cold for us in the South and so we were both really excited about the Remote Car Starter. It was a way for us to warm up Rebecca's car (for Taylor) without having to go outside 10 minutes before we were ready to leave.
I procrastinated for a while before getting the starter installed, but we finally got it installed on Friday, January 15. That night, we were over at Bobby and Kim's house (Rebecca's parents) seeing her brother, sister-in-law, and nephews before they went back home to Tampa, FL. The temperature that night was 26 degrees and so I did the remote car start thing and it worked awesomely. I was able to start up the car from the dining room window without even putting my jacket on. That's #1!
About 10 minutes later, Rebecca and I go out to our cars to leave. She puts Taylor in the car, goes around to the front passenger side to put her bags in seat, closes the door, and goes back to the back passenger seat for one more final check on Taylor before heading out. One problem ... the door is locked. In fact, all the doors are locked.
Rebecca immediately panics. She tells me that Taylor is locked in the car and frantically asks if there is a brick close by. Becca started crying. She decided she would just break her window to get to Taylor. I told her we could not do that and that I would call a locksmith. Rebecca was inconsolable. I asked her brother to take her inside while I sorted out the situation. We called her uncle Danny who used to be a car salesmen (and subsequently a car repo guy). He recommended we call the police. The police said they had no car unlocking equipment and recommended we call the Locksmith. That was a wasted three minutes.
The car was scorching at this point because the heat was all the way up and the air was blowing full blast. I called the Locksmith. He said he would be right there. Rebecca came back outside just as two cops rolled into the driveway. Our town is slightly more hardened than Mayberry and Police Officers routinely get cats out of trees and help get babies out of locked cars.
They stood there telling Rebecca things like, "I locked my kids in the car once. Everybody does it accidentally. Don't worry about it." That DID NOT help. Where is the locksmith? Rebecca thinks the baby is crying due to the heat. The cop shines his light in the window and she is sound asleep. The locksmith still wasn't here. Come on . . .
Finally, he arrived and took what appeared to be a plastic knife with a rubber band attached to the end out of his car. He got the lock to pop in less than 3 minutes and Rebecca consoled our comfortably sleeping baby.
Don't ask Rebecca about it. She will launch into a 10 minute dissertation about how the car locks as soon as you put your keys into the ignition whereas before it only locked when the car got up to 20 mph. For the record, she is correct. The remote car starter does suddenly make it lock when you put the keys in the ignition.
Hopefully this will be something we can look back at one day and laugh at. Rebecca is not there yet.
Saturday, January 23, 2010
Daddy's Diaper Change
By now, this story is familiar to those inside our family, but to the rest of you (and really for documentation purposes for when Taylor is old enough to make fun of her dad) I bring you the following TRUE story.
About a month ago, Rebecca had to go to a follow up doctor's appointment and so I was given the charge of taking care of Taylor. It was my first time being the sole caretaker for her. Rebecca gave me all the instructions:
"There is a bottle in the fridge if she gets hungry. I have laid out several diapers and the wipes are on her changing table. Here is this toy. Here is how to control the sounds on the swing. If she goes to sleep, don't forget to turn the Angelcare monitor on and if you get her out, don't forget to turn it off. I'll only be gone a little bit. Obviously you know the my cell phone number, but here is Dr. Short's office number and if it is bad enough, God forbid, call 911. Do you really think you can do this? Maybe I should just stay home . . ."
I convinced her that SuperDad could take care of this situation just fine. I even have a cape in my closet :) Taylor did awesome for a little while, but then she started crying. I rocked her and she went to sleep. She woke up again, I tried rocking her, but she kept crying. I mentally scrolled down the "Why Babies Cry" list in my brain. $2 on the list (behind #1 Sleepy) was "Hungry". I gave her a bottle and she did awesome. My SuperDad cape was figuratively flapping in the wind amid my heroic and daring escape from arch-enemy "Crying Baby". She went to sleep and as is her MO, she started pooting in her sleep. I always hold her with one hand on her butt and I quickly discovered, it wasn't all noxious fumes. I decided that I would go to #3 on my list to complete the SuperDad trifecta, "Dirty Diaper".
The pack-and-play holds a variety of items that are useful to parents. It has a bulb syringe to get boogers out of the baby's nose. It has ointment to prevent diaper rash, it has wipes to clean the baby's bottom, and obviously, it has diapers. I took one out and laid it next to Taylor. I got a wipe and did the deal. Once clean, I tried to put the diaper on Taylor, but something was not working. I looked at the diaper and it looked smaller than I remembered and it did not say Pampers on it. It actually didn't say anything at all. I cursed Rebecca under my breath for putting diapers in the pack-and-play that I have never used. I picked Taylor up (bare-butt) and carried her into the Nursery. There, I beheld that old standard: "Pampers Preemie". Crisis averted. I changed the diaper and ducked back into the phone booth to change into normal human clothes before Becca got home.
When she got home, she was surprised that the baby was not disfigured and was actually asleep on my shoulder. I smiled and gave her the "You know I'm awesome" look, but then explained to her that I was very upset with her.
"Why did you put diapers in the pack-and-play that I have never used? I don't even think they would have fit her. They were shaped funny."
To which she responded, "What? I don't know what you are talking about."
I got off my throne and took her to the pack-and-play to explain her error. The second I pulled out the diaper, she laughed at the top of her lungs and collapsed to the floor. After about 10 minutes, she broke the news to me. This was no diaper
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
. It was a Maxipad!
Who in the world puts a Maxipad in a pack-and=play? Can you blame me? It has wings you know! I told her that I considered going out to the garage and getting the duct tape. I'm an engineer. I could have made it work one way or another!
About a month ago, Rebecca had to go to a follow up doctor's appointment and so I was given the charge of taking care of Taylor. It was my first time being the sole caretaker for her. Rebecca gave me all the instructions:
"There is a bottle in the fridge if she gets hungry. I have laid out several diapers and the wipes are on her changing table. Here is this toy. Here is how to control the sounds on the swing. If she goes to sleep, don't forget to turn the Angelcare monitor on and if you get her out, don't forget to turn it off. I'll only be gone a little bit. Obviously you know the my cell phone number, but here is Dr. Short's office number and if it is bad enough, God forbid, call 911. Do you really think you can do this? Maybe I should just stay home . . ."
I convinced her that SuperDad could take care of this situation just fine. I even have a cape in my closet :) Taylor did awesome for a little while, but then she started crying. I rocked her and she went to sleep. She woke up again, I tried rocking her, but she kept crying. I mentally scrolled down the "Why Babies Cry" list in my brain. $2 on the list (behind #1 Sleepy) was "Hungry". I gave her a bottle and she did awesome. My SuperDad cape was figuratively flapping in the wind amid my heroic and daring escape from arch-enemy "Crying Baby". She went to sleep and as is her MO, she started pooting in her sleep. I always hold her with one hand on her butt and I quickly discovered, it wasn't all noxious fumes. I decided that I would go to #3 on my list to complete the SuperDad trifecta, "Dirty Diaper".
The pack-and-play holds a variety of items that are useful to parents. It has a bulb syringe to get boogers out of the baby's nose. It has ointment to prevent diaper rash, it has wipes to clean the baby's bottom, and obviously, it has diapers. I took one out and laid it next to Taylor. I got a wipe and did the deal. Once clean, I tried to put the diaper on Taylor, but something was not working. I looked at the diaper and it looked smaller than I remembered and it did not say Pampers on it. It actually didn't say anything at all. I cursed Rebecca under my breath for putting diapers in the pack-and-play that I have never used. I picked Taylor up (bare-butt) and carried her into the Nursery. There, I beheld that old standard: "Pampers Preemie". Crisis averted. I changed the diaper and ducked back into the phone booth to change into normal human clothes before Becca got home.
When she got home, she was surprised that the baby was not disfigured and was actually asleep on my shoulder. I smiled and gave her the "You know I'm awesome" look, but then explained to her that I was very upset with her.
"Why did you put diapers in the pack-and-play that I have never used? I don't even think they would have fit her. They were shaped funny."
To which she responded, "What? I don't know what you are talking about."
I got off my throne and took her to the pack-and-play to explain her error. The second I pulled out the diaper, she laughed at the top of her lungs and collapsed to the floor. After about 10 minutes, she broke the news to me. This was no diaper
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
. It was a Maxipad!
Who in the world puts a Maxipad in a pack-and=play? Can you blame me? It has wings you know! I told her that I considered going out to the garage and getting the duct tape. I'm an engineer. I could have made it work one way or another!
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