I thought I'd share some remarkably disturbing events at the Ward castle this past week. Everything started out nice and normal, but unforeseen circumstances left me fearing for my life and questioning my sanity. Hooked yet? Well .... here goes:
Our tale begins during a routine visit to Michael's allergist. April and I spent several minutes explaining how Michael has endured a wee-bit of trouble with his allergies this spring. If you consider coughing all night and emptying entire stores of their kleenex supplies a "wee-bit" of trouble. Our allergist noted all the trouble in her chart and gave us samples of two different allergy drugs. We were instructed to try them out and report back.
The first drug, unfortunately, had exactly zero effect. Michael continued to sniffle, sneeze and wheeze his way through life. After four days of using the first drug known as "Clarinex," April and I made the fateful decision to switch to a drug that will forever be known among the Ward family as the "Evil Pills." A decision that will go down in parenting lore.
The actual name of the drug is "Singulair," and it comes in bright blue packages. Just an innocent looking box of pink chewable tablets that taste like candy ... AND UNLEASH THE POWER OF SATAN ON TODDLERS!!
The first couple of days Michael took his pill and went about the day in his normal fashion. A happy, if somewhat bored, toddler living the dream in the suburbs. By the third day, however, I began noticing subtle changes in his personality. These changes were so discreet, it took my highly-skilled detective expertise to snuff them out.
Michael's eyes locked into a hard, cold stare. His posture grew stiff and his hands clenched tightly into fists. He began throwing tantrums at EVERYTHING, spewing out diatribes of woe such as, "I hate you, I hate everyone, I hate this, I HATE EVERYTHING!!!!!" Whenever I asked him to do something, he would simply shout "NO!" and proceed to cry for an hour.
The final straw occurred when I scolded him for his latest jaunt toward trouble, and he proceeded to start punching me in the arm and chest. Keep in mind that Michael is approaching his fourth birthday and I've never really had to spank him. It's not that I've declared "I shall never spank my son," or anything of the sort. It's just that I haven't HAD to spank him. I've never really had a reason to. His "bad" behavior (before the Evil Pills) simply consisted of meltdowns and tantrums that halted after a five-minute "time-out" period in his room. He has always been a pleaser (thank goodness).
After my precious boy began wailing on me like Rocky in a prizefight, it suddenly dawned on me ... "Holy crap, this kid is a brat! I'm going to have to start spanking him." I began wondering what caused such a sudden change in his behavior. Why I was envisioning scenes from "Children of the Corn," while the theme music from "The Omen" was blasting through my head. One particularly terrifying thought followed when I wondered how long it would take little Michael to realize there were knives in the kitchen.
That's when I knew we had a problem.
As fate often works, April and I ran into some friends at a wedding later that evening. When we relayed our sad tale, they were not surprised at all. Their youngest child had the same reaction to the Evil Pills, and some friends of theirs also had a rather negative reaction. It appears this drug has a few side-effects that don't sit well with young children. Namely, anger, depression and impatience. I'm not saying this happens to all children who take it. Perhaps these three cases are entirely in contrast to what normally happens. But I do find it odd that we just happened to hear about kids that had the exact same reaction as Michael while taking the Evil Pills.
So the next day we took Michael off the medication, and it wasn't long before the future mass-murderer disappeared and our loving son returned. That gust of wind you felt last Monday evening was April and I sighing with relief!
I just wanted to relay this tale to any and all parents of small children. If your child is taking Singulair and he or she starts acting strangely, picking out Michael Myers masks and asking for chain saws, please know that they may be having an adverse reaction to this medication. If you take them off these pills, and they still hover in your bedroom doorway at night uttering "Sleep tight Daddy, heheheh!!," well, then you're on your own!
Be safe kiddies!
- Dave
Thursday, June 12, 2008
Tuesday, June 3, 2008
It's Business Time
For some crazy reason the powerful ones at my church have decided to appoint me to the Board of Directors. Yeah me. As in, "the guy who once nearly set off a nuclear catastrophe at a football game by microwaving a hot dog completely wrapped in aluminum foil." Ah, the smoke ... the flames ... the screaming. Such memories.
Anyway, after taking in my lounge act and reviewing my astounding resume (5 BCS National Championships, 2 Super Bowl rings, an AL Central Championship on the playstation), the powerful ones saw fit to place me on the Board. I have as much business experience as your average preschooler. Scratch that. Michael has discovered a genuine flair for business with his new toy cash register. In just two weeks time the little guy has turned a non-existent business that produces exactly zero goods and services into $9 profit. Let's see Bill Gates do that!
I heard a rumor that my name was on the list of Board nominations last month, and I immediately deduced someone was having a great bit of fun with that joke. Then I received notice in the mail that I was indeed being appointed to the Board. It just goes to show that anybody, and I mean ANYBODY can accomplish something in this great nation of ours, kiddies.
So now instead of being "Stay-at-home-Dad puke," I can officially change my title to "Super important Board member Stay-at-home-Dad puke." Please hold your applause.
Unfortunately the story gets even better. Last night was my first official Board meeting with the powerful ones. I ventured out in the Green Machine and quickly found myself sitting in an actual conference room located inside the private office of a particularly powerful, powerful one. The office contained a gigantic wooden desk so essential to conference rooms. There were large, powerful looking black chairs and the obligatory patio door leading out to the fairway of a pristine golf course. Clearly I was in my element with my ripped jeans, two-day-old beard and Juicy Juice stains. But hey, I brought a notebook and a pen and everything!
Before the meeting started I promised myself that I would keep my eyes open and my mouth shut. I was going to play it cool, you see. Act like I attend board meetings all the time, and I definitely don't spend my days shopping at Winco and playing fantasy baseball.
Everything went well at first. The powerful ones pulled out their laptops, while I carefully removed the cap from my fountain pen. The incoming board president began the meeting with introductions, and before I knew it, we were knee deep in by-laws, strategic planning, organizational audits and several other terms I have no clue about.
Seeking a way to divert attention away from my "George Bush during a debate" face, I promptly offered the Board a sampling of my wisdom. I blurted out something I felt was quite brilliant at the time, but in retrospect probably sounded like, "I agree!." And that's when it happened. The Board members, obviously attempting to console the new guy, directed some positive responses my way. Little did they know that my lounge singer is always lurking just below the surface. All it takes is a few kudos and he's off and running.
You can guess the rest. My "Cantshutupitis" returned with a vengeance, and I proceeded to spend the next 2 hours and 59 minutes of our three hour meeting espousing my slightly controversial, occasionally horrific views on things that I really know nothing about. I opened my notebook and pounded my fist on the desk for emphasis. It wasn't until I broke out my box of Crayolas and my Etch-A-Sketch that I truly hit my stride. It was a sight to behold believe me!
When it was over the powerful ones picked their jaws up off the floor and exited the building in a rather hasty fashion. I boarded the Green Machine that evening with a rare sense of accomplishment. "This isn't so bad," I said to myself with a sly grin. "I think I might make a rather good Super important Board member stay-at-home Dad puke."
"Assuming I figure out what strategic planning is."
Stay beautiful kiddies! Call me, we'll do lunch!
- Dave
Anyway, after taking in my lounge act and reviewing my astounding resume (5 BCS National Championships, 2 Super Bowl rings, an AL Central Championship on the playstation), the powerful ones saw fit to place me on the Board. I have as much business experience as your average preschooler. Scratch that. Michael has discovered a genuine flair for business with his new toy cash register. In just two weeks time the little guy has turned a non-existent business that produces exactly zero goods and services into $9 profit. Let's see Bill Gates do that!
I heard a rumor that my name was on the list of Board nominations last month, and I immediately deduced someone was having a great bit of fun with that joke. Then I received notice in the mail that I was indeed being appointed to the Board. It just goes to show that anybody, and I mean ANYBODY can accomplish something in this great nation of ours, kiddies.
So now instead of being "Stay-at-home-Dad puke," I can officially change my title to "Super important Board member Stay-at-home-Dad puke." Please hold your applause.
Unfortunately the story gets even better. Last night was my first official Board meeting with the powerful ones. I ventured out in the Green Machine and quickly found myself sitting in an actual conference room located inside the private office of a particularly powerful, powerful one. The office contained a gigantic wooden desk so essential to conference rooms. There were large, powerful looking black chairs and the obligatory patio door leading out to the fairway of a pristine golf course. Clearly I was in my element with my ripped jeans, two-day-old beard and Juicy Juice stains. But hey, I brought a notebook and a pen and everything!
Before the meeting started I promised myself that I would keep my eyes open and my mouth shut. I was going to play it cool, you see. Act like I attend board meetings all the time, and I definitely don't spend my days shopping at Winco and playing fantasy baseball.
Everything went well at first. The powerful ones pulled out their laptops, while I carefully removed the cap from my fountain pen. The incoming board president began the meeting with introductions, and before I knew it, we were knee deep in by-laws, strategic planning, organizational audits and several other terms I have no clue about.
Seeking a way to divert attention away from my "George Bush during a debate" face, I promptly offered the Board a sampling of my wisdom. I blurted out something I felt was quite brilliant at the time, but in retrospect probably sounded like, "I agree!." And that's when it happened. The Board members, obviously attempting to console the new guy, directed some positive responses my way. Little did they know that my lounge singer is always lurking just below the surface. All it takes is a few kudos and he's off and running.
You can guess the rest. My "Cantshutupitis" returned with a vengeance, and I proceeded to spend the next 2 hours and 59 minutes of our three hour meeting espousing my slightly controversial, occasionally horrific views on things that I really know nothing about. I opened my notebook and pounded my fist on the desk for emphasis. It wasn't until I broke out my box of Crayolas and my Etch-A-Sketch that I truly hit my stride. It was a sight to behold believe me!
When it was over the powerful ones picked their jaws up off the floor and exited the building in a rather hasty fashion. I boarded the Green Machine that evening with a rare sense of accomplishment. "This isn't so bad," I said to myself with a sly grin. "I think I might make a rather good Super important Board member stay-at-home Dad puke."
"Assuming I figure out what strategic planning is."
Stay beautiful kiddies! Call me, we'll do lunch!
- Dave
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