July 03, 2015

Brand Snob

I proudly strut my Wal-Mart jeans.  Grocery store double stuffs are far superior to Oreos.  I risk the ripping spillage from cheap black trash bags that the Hefty commercials scare you into thinking will happen.

When it comes to frozen pancakes, though, we don't mess around.

Pancakes are holy here.  It was Bridger's first oral food and continues to be one of his only oral foods.  After Bridger had one of his major seizures and was intubated and heavily sedated for many days and was first regaining consciousness, he could not speak and could scarcely open a single eye.  With that half open little blue eye looking at me he clumsily took his hands and signed "drive car", "pancake" - which interpreted means, "I want some hotcakes from McDonald's" and gave a little weak smile.  You had better believe this momma was charging down that hallway to get some pancakes to room 524 STAT.  After thinking that we might have just lost him, that was the most precious request I have ever seen.

Pancakes still play an influential role in his life.  Bridger created two poems this year using his voice-output device.  One was about his beloved service dog, Ty.  The other, was an ode to pancakes.

By Bridger

In the morning
I look at them
circles, brown

Bridger's favorite book this year --

Yep.  More pancakes.

So when it comes to frozen pancakes it is nothing but the best here.  Eggo or bust baby.

My husband is continually tempted to save the 59 cents and purchase that generic box of microwavable pancakes.  

The generic microwavable pancakes are a little gooier and gummier when Bridger chews them.  He can't motorically manage that in his mouth, which then causes him to gag, retch, and vomit.  You get a very short notice of such.  I hear that initial soft gag and I immediately perform multiple finger sweeps of his mouth followed by a forced drink from his sippy cup of milk to help wash the remaining offensive pieces down his throat.

On Wednesday I was working at my typical speed of 50 mph getting him ready for the school bus that was set to arrive in 90 seconds.  You have to be waiting for the bus when it arrives at the end of my driveway - because it will not wait for you.  Bridger was at the table eating his generic pancakes and I was preparing his snack when from over at the table I heard that warning gag.  I did a grand flying leap in my bathrobe to get to him in time to perform the finger sweep. . . but it wasn't in time.  Full stomach vomit including an entire chocolate formula box all over him, his chair, his seat cover, his harness, his ipad, the table and the floor.  I froze in space and surveyed the mess, looked at the clock and let out a long slow exhale.  I had 45 seconds to right this wrong.  Evie and Sadie snapped into action - one bravely scrubbing the butterfly harness while the other got me a fresh outfit for him.  We worked like mad cleaning up him and all the pieces of the chair in a hot 60 seconds following which Evie wheeled him out to the bus as I was running behind her spraying air freshener on him.

Some days are just that good.

The ipad was a goner.  The cost savings of such a choice has proved to be at a net loss to us. Brand snob from now on.