Rambo's Rampages...

Milk and butter and eggs and cheese Straight from the farm to you. If you don't own a cow call Cloverland now. North-nine-two-two-two-two. I hope that sounds familiar to someone else. I couldn't have had the only dad in the entire universe who would sing that song anytime any of the above foods were mentioned. This is what I am referring to when I say that I am a product of my environment. Usually these little diddies were made up and could be about anything: pancakes, shoes, going to bed, having a headache.... The point is there was always a song being sung about something in my house. And it was usually coming from my dad. Not so anymore. Now they're coming from me. And Ben too if we're being honest. I don't know if Ben's parents went around making up songs when he was young. (I do, however, know that they listened to some bad  interesting music. 'Acapella', anyone??? :)) The point is that this habit of singing little diddies is strong a...

We had an appointment with the swallow specialist yesterday. I've been anticipating this for quite some time now knowing that Rambo doesn't swallow. I was interested in hearing what the doctor had to say about helping, treating, teaching, etc.  I gathered from the paperwork I received and phone conversations I had with a not-quite-competent receptionist that the doctor needed to watch him eat to see what the problem was. This makes sense. Bringing baby food (which he's never had) or rice puffs (which he's never had) did not make sense. So I brought his formula in his 'favorite bottle' at the receptionists insistance. I don't think it's necessary to remind anyone that he hasn't eaten from a bottle since he was about a week old (because he.couldn't.swallow) so I'm thinking he doesn't have a favorite bottle. Aaaannnnnnyway we find ourselves at the appointment. Mind you, I've worked his entire schedule out - thankfully it wasn't too...