Product differentiation vampires

Nuha came down with a fever yesterday evening.  Ever since we had the scare of our lives last year when she went into febrile seizures, we've been apprehensive whenever her temperature rises.  Today there were a few instances when it hit 103 degrees, so Saeeda made the call and I took her into urgent care.

There wasn't anything to worry about - the doctor found a mild infection that needed an antibiotic, so I decided to pick up the prescription at at the nearby Walgreens.  It was while the pharmacist was completing the transaction there that he asked me a question I was not prepared for.

"Would you like that flavored?" he asked.

Puzzled look on Faisal's face. We're talking about antibiotics, not lattes, right?

"Uh.  Is that an option?"

"Sure - we can make it cherry or strawberry flavored."

Cool, I thought.  I wish this had been around back when I was a child and my mother was shoving the world's worst tasting concoctions down my throat.  Back then, you measured the potency of a medicine by how badly it burned your throat as it went down.  The more gag-inducing the medicine, the more likely it was to annihilate whatever was bothering you.

"Um, ok, sure," I said.

"That'll be $2.99 extra."

And just like that, it was oh hell no time.  First of all, I was annoyed that some executive thought it cool to make flavoring an option for children's medicine rather than keep it standard and making life easier for parents all over the world.  Second, the economist in me was annoyed that Walgreen's expected me to believe that adding a spritz of flavoring could possibly cost almost $3 extra for a generic medicine that didn't cost that much to begin with.  Finally, I was incensed that this whole idea was a play on a vulnerable parent's susceptibility at a time when sick children were likely to be waiting at home.

I decided to decline the offer for a tastier antibiotic, and mentally made a note to never become a product differentiation vampire as a marketer myself.

Housework x10

People told me that having a second child would more than double the work for us.  That the second child would create one of the toughest transitions I would experience as a parent.  I listened politely, because I didn't entirely believe them.  And for the most part, I feel that I was right - yes there's more work to do in the two weeks since Ziyad made his entrance, but it's no tougher a transition than when we had our first.  What has broadsided me is the amount of housework.

All my wife and I do now is pick-up stuff and put it back in its place.  We turn around, and our entire universe is instantly thrown into chaos.  So back we go again, redressing naked dolls, replacing refrigerator magnets (why do we have so many?), and re-organizing the DVD shelf (why does my Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2 Xbox game have a copy of the Potty Power: How to Train your Toddler in 5 Easy Days DVD?). We're in hell, assigned the Sysiphean task of rolling the proverbial boulder up the hill, only to watch it roll back on us.  And Hades (our daughter) mocks us.  You see, the corollary to having a second child is that one of us can no longer clean up while the other distracts the cause of the mess.  We are now constantly busy and distracted - while one of us tends to a chore, the other is busy with Ziyad.  Which means that Nuha has the run of the house.

Used to be a time when if there was silence my wife and I would breathe a sigh of relief, knowing that either a) Nuha was asleep, or b) she was keeping herself busy with her toys.  Now, when there is silence, it is cause for immediate alarm and a reason for the Khan household to move immediately to code blue.

Nuha left to her own for 10 minutes as I clean dishes:

The tormentor, mocking me (hint: I'm the one in my undershirt, dishtowel on my shoulder, and a haggard look on my face):

Two weeks later

So Ziyad has been home now for two weeks now, and it's amazing the transformation that has taken place in such a short period of time.  For one, he is a better feeder than his older sister ever was at this age, which means that he is filling out his newborn clothes at a rapid pace.  Nuha was a tiny baby for a long time - Ziyad is adding heft quickly.

I'm not sure why I thought child number two would provide us with the same experience as the first one, but already the differences are starting to make themselves clear.  Ziyad is a mellow baby, crying occasionally, but mostly only for food.  Putting him to sleep isn't hard, whereas Nuha required all sorts of rocking and walking.  Our parenting style has changed too, from the classic over-attention and fussing to a more relaxed "he'll be fine" attitude.  I remember how when Nuha was born Saeeda would hang at the edge of our bed all night long, drifting asleep for 5 minutes before darting awake to see if Nuha was ok.  Now Saeeda's reaction is to feed Ziyad, putting him to sleep, and slap me awake if Ziyad starts to cry so that I can do diaper changes/swaddling/rocking to sleep.  This whole having to parent thing is a lot of work.

I'm going to find out more, I guess, as my paternity leave started on Monday.  That day was fine, as Nuha was in daycare.  Tuesday, however, was not so smooth - elder sister was home, had the run of the house, and decided that having mom and dad's attention diverted away from her is not that cool a thing.  Lots of throwing things, screaming, and generally pushing boundaries.  By the end I was exhausted, as I was tasked with keeping Nuha away from Saeeda and the baby.  I might have to rethink growing the family to five kids.

Ziyad Khan enters the world

It's funny how different this pregnancy has been from when we were expecting Nuha almost three years ago.  Back then, everything was new and brought with it tremendous uncertainty.  Conflicting advice would send us scurrying to the internet to determine tie-breakers.  We considered everyone to be an expert. "What to Expect when Expecting" - that Bible of Pregnancy - made us dread the most benign of Saeeda's symptoms.  And a trip to Babies R Us would always leave me paralyzed and disoriented.

This time around, however, we've been able to focus much more on us as a family, and on preparing for an arrival that will completely change the way we interact with each other. Granted, this "preparing" has sort of crossed over into territory in which I am not comfortable.  For example, this past weekend Saeeda, having run out of things to organize, acquired a label maker and decided to label the entire contents of our spice cabinet.  When finished, she proudly declared that I would now finally be able to find the right spice when I needed to do so.  I stopped short of informing her that finding the right spice had never been the problem - it was what to do with the spice after I had located it that was the problem.

But for me, "preparing" for the new arrival has meant spending more time with Nuha.  With busy lives and crazy schedules, I've relished the recent, rare weekends where she and I have just goofed around in the park, chasing after each other, hunting down daffodils, making fun of other kids too scared to try the big slides, and generally making a mess of the nice clothes Saeeda always picks for Nuha.  We've spent time meticulously apply band-aids to each other.  Me, because of small blisters suffered through all-around clumsiness, and she because ... well, who doesn't want to sport five, multi-colored Dora the Explorer band-aids on their leg?  Sure, I've had to suffer some worried looks from Nuha's day care teachers, each wondering what damage I'm doing to my child.  And sure, Saeeda has had to stealthily rip off one bandage a night, having had to wait until after Nuha has fallen asleep.  But so what?  

In general, I've worried that the attention and love that we've provided will soon have to be diverted, and that makes me a little sad because of the tectonic shift Nuha's world is about to suffer.  This morning, after Saeeda had gone into labor and we were preparing for the trip to the hospital, I snuck into Nuha's room to dress her.  We would be dropping her off at a friend's house, and I needed to quickly make sure everything was ready to go.  I paused at Nuha's bed to watch her sleep, with curly hair splayed in a mess on her pillow, mouth in a smile, her trusty stuffed giraffe and cow clutched tightly in either hand.  As I started to move her, Nuha, still asleep, instantly started yelling at her mom to leave her band-aids on.  I couldn't help but smile.  How nice would it be if my biggest nightly concern was anger at my mother ripping off unnecessary band-aids?

We dropped Nuha off at 4:30am this morning, silently offering thanks for having developed close friendships that allowed us to substitute for having family around.  Driving quickly, we were at the hospital by 5am, and checked in within another 10.  Saeeda was in bed with nurses swarming around her almost immediately, but we soon realized there was a slight problem - Saeeda was too far into labor for the administration of any medication whatsoever.  In the 20 minutes of pushing that followed, Saeeda convinced me that no matter how much CrossFit I partake in, I will never approach a level of resilience, endurance, or stamina to hold a candle to what she proved she was capable of.

And just like that, Ziyad Khan entered the world.  Mother and son are now doing well, with Ziyad as alert and quiet as Nuha was when she was born.  I'm leaving them in the hospital room to go pick up Nuha in a bit, and to introduce her to someone who I hope will become her partner in crime and best buddy for life.  Saeeda and I cannot be more thankful or grateful for the prayers and well wishes of all of our family and friends.  Success as parents, I think, will now depend on how well we can transition from 2-on-1 to man-to-man defense.  

Tragedy and beauty

Our last full day in Maui … already?  Yes, a little hard to believe, but then that’s sort of how quickly time flies in this place, even though you feel like things move reaaalllly slooowly.  Like the cars on the "highways" of Maui, obeying the 35 mph posted state speed limit.

Given that we had hit the pool yesterday, today was more about the beach.  Still on Pacific time, we woke early, munched on our bagels and downed some cereal, just in time for the sun to begin warming up the water.  I decided to rent some snorkeling gear, having been told that there was some good coral reef right on the beach that our hotel looked out upon.  I was skeptical at first, especially since my last snorkeling experience had been at the Great Barrier Reef in Australia - it would be hard to top that adventure.  I remembered from that trip that we had to travel a fair distance out to into open water, so I didn't think I could just wade into the water, and within a few feet be amongst coral.  But it was true.  Kaanapali beach had coral that were so easily accessible that you could not be blamed for thinking  that it was an expensive, fake, set-up.

My snorkeling adventures did come to an abrupt end, however, when I noticed a lot of commotion on the beach right by where I had left Saeeda and Nuha.  I decided to swim back to shore, and no sooner had I got there than I realized that the excitement was due to a group of people trying mightily to revive a lady who was lying prone on the sand.  Saeeda and Nuha were huddled not far away, having had to scatter as the lady had been pulled in from the surf.  A few minutes later EMT’s arrived, and it became clear from the conversation that the woman had been snorkeling and had passed out.  Her family had dragged her out when they had noticed something wrong.

Saeeda, Nuha, and I decided to leave the crowd of gathering onlookers – the EMTs were trying to revive this poor woman who had gone into cardiac arrest, and gawking was not going to help matters.  What I found strange was that the same thing had happened the day before, while we were at the hotel pool.  From our poolside chairs, we had seen an older gentleman pulled from the surf, also having passed out while snorkeling.  The EMTs had not been able to revive him, and he had been rushed to the hospital.

The three of us went back to our hotel room to change, sobered by the reminder that tragedy can strike even in the happiest of places.  Still, in a way that made me appreciate Hawaii's beauty even more.  There's only so much time that we have on this planet, and the beauty that surrounds us is vast.  Being able to visit some of that beauty is a blessing, and for that I am grateful.

The island's affect on the mind

Ah Maui.  Boy did we enjoy it the way it was meant to be enjoyed today.  We woke up late, had breakfast in the room, and headed for the pool, where we lay around some more.  The lounge chairs reclined at the perfect angle, the sun was just the perfect amount of hot, and the kiddie pool was just right for Nuha, who if left to herself, would have remained there all day.

All that hard work in the morning required a nap back in our hotel room, after which it was time to get ready for the luau that we tickets to.  As with other native traditions in places that depend so much on tourist revenue, the Hawaiian luau has become more of a spectacle that amuses visitors than an accurate depiction of local custom.  Despite this, the kid-friendly Polynesian Village luau that we attended was a pleasant experience, one made more so by what came across as genuine hospitality by staff that looked as if they enjoyed what they did for a living.  Nuha enjoyed making leis, I got to taste kava juice (which the muscled, bare-chested, islander manning the station promised “was good for my banana”), and Saeeda delighted in seeing me up on stage trying to imitate one of the warrior dances.  There were plenty of dances thrown in from neighboring islands – Fiji, Samoa, New Zealand all got a shout out.  And the firedance was really neat too.

In all, a great day to relax and cleanse the mind.  I’m starting to rethink this whole having to work for a living thing.  Why can’t we just live in an island state of mind?

Are you ready for that now?

Of all the places I’ve wanted to travel to, Hawaii is the one destination about which it has been hard not to form preconceived notions.  So many people have traveled there and then come back with great reviews, that it’s been hard keeping expectations low.  Still, when we started looking around for one last, quick vacation to take before baby #2 arrives, Hawai’i was at the top of our list.

Given the limited vacation time that we both get, we decided to stick to Maui for the four days we would be here.  Arrival and getting the rental car was uneventful – what struck me was the tropical heat, and how similar it was to the heat and humidity of Pakistan.  It then also struck me that Maui and Karachi could not possibly be more dissimilar in just about everything else.

For example, you are unlikely to find a Costco right beside the Karachi airport.  Here, it seemed natural.  Visitors from out of state often come to stay for weeks in rented condos on the various islands of Hawaii, and it makes sense to stock up on food and sundry items immediately upon arrival.  Although we were staying at a hotel, it was still hard for me not to pull our rental car right up to the megastore.  Why pass up an opportunity to buy that 400-pack of AA batteries?  Or 200 rolls of toilet paper?  Or 20-pack of Calvin Klein underwear?  I might need any of those items at a moment's notice!

The Sheraton Maui, which was to be our home, was a pleasant enough property located in Kaanapali, in the northwest of the island and a 45 min. drive on a winding ocean highway.  Surrounding the Sheraton were the Westin, Hyatt, and Marriott properties, so we were definitely in resort central.  Despite the concentration, I didn’t feel that the place was overrun with tourists

Our first afternoon was spent eating a lazy lunch by the beach, getting some ice cream, and doing some grocery shopping.  By this point we had only been in Maui a few hours, but already we could tell prices were exorbitantly high here.  Eight slices of Kraft’s American cheese?  $4.  Gas?  Over $4.50 a gallon.  Being thrifty here would not be easy.

Dinner that night was an interesting experience.  We drove into Lahaina town, a short 10 minutes from all the resorts and a pleasant oceanfront area with lots of shopping and dining options.  However, service at Lahaina Prime Rib and Seafood was … interesting.  Our server kept forgetting to bring out things that we had ordered, and every time we reminded him, he would say, “Oh, sure – are you ready for that now?”  Of course we were ready – we ordered it, right?  I would understand if we had a 5 course meal that we were gently savoring at a leisurely pace, but that was not the case.Shouldn't we be provided with things like water and silverware right away?  

“O sure – are you ready for that now?” Yes, please, I’ve decided against eating my fish with my fingers, and will instead use a knife and fork.  “O sure – are you ready for that now?” Yes please, I’d actually like to try the food that I ordered.  I’m ready for that now.

Weird.  Just weird.

Rookie traveller

I'm in Brazil for a weeklong meeting - I arrived today in Sao Paulo expecting chaos because of the torrential rains that have already killed so many, but everything was smooth sailing.  We got picked up at the airport on time, and were whisked an hour into the countryside, where we are staying at the Bourbon Spa Resort.  Sounds fancy, but I've had to struggle to get my internet connection working.  Wireless is slow as molasses, so I'm having to use a LAN cable.  A what?  Yes, they still have those, youngling - wires that physically tether you to a specific location.  Cruel and unusual punishment, that is.

Also, despite the grand-sounding name of the hotel, the place is guilty of one of my pet peeves - no iron in the room.  I don't get it.  I mean, I know I'm a little anal and like to iron my clothes in the morning, but how can a hotel - a large, resort-style hotel with attached convention center which attracts business travelers from all over the world - not have in-room irons?  What's more, the front desk didn't keep irons either.  What the h#$%!  Are South Americans the world's greatest luggage-packers?  Do their clothes simply not crease?  I understand when a small, family-owned inn in a quaint European town, keeps irons only at the front desk because there is a clear fire and electrical hazard to keeping irons in guest rooms, but I'm staying at quite a modern facility.  I've had to spring for expensive ironing service for half of my wardrobe, the other half of which I will simply wear wrinkled.  Trust me, though - I'll be keeping an eagle-eye out for folds on the clothes of the other meeting attendees.  Because if I don't find any, they know something this experienced traveler does not.