7.23.2008

receive the transmission of my middle finger

Dear Graco,

I hate you. In fact, I have almost always hated you. Even when you tried to recreate the whole cool fabric on a stroller version of your crappy strollers, I didn't fall for it. Your junk falls apart, makes kids bleed, and all around looks like crap most of the time. Yes, I have still accepted this fact and wasted more money on your junk. Why I have is BEYOND me. Clearly your goods are designed to not last so we can keep spending more and more money, instead of making decent stuff that might actually last through kid numero dos at the very least.

This week's waste of money was the last straw. I will no longer spend money on your products.

You see, I am knee-deep in empty boxes, filling them little by little as I prepare to move my family and our belongings to another home in another state. My kids have been sick with colds, coughing at night, needing a humidifier and medicine all night between the moonlight packing extravaganza. You could say it's a time of transition, sleep is expected to be minimal and tension high. I am a little busy these days. So when my old baby monitor busted, I knew I could run to a local store that loves to cram every product of yours on every shelf. I had no time to research and hoped to replace what I had before. But it wasn't there. Turns out, you had the only version under the price of $180 so you won the prize of joining my shopping cart. I loved you for the entire time it took me to drive home, put the baby to sleep, push a plug into the wall, and then turn a knob.

Well, Tune In Tokyo. Not only could I hear the humidifier like it had a full blast megaphone attached to it, but I heard the baby breathing in, then out, then in again, and out. It was louder than it would be if I were to hold him in my arms and squeeze the air out of him quickly into a microphone connected to 15,134,968,056,897 amps. And when he would whimper, I heard that too. In waaaaaaay too loud of volume despite the little nobby thing being turned all the way down. And when the baby rolls over in his crib, it sounds like he is hanging sheets of wallpaper on the wall. I might as well have the kid sleeping on my face all night with his mouth pressed into my ear.

You see, the whole idea of a monitor (to me) is to transition the baby out of your room so you can finally sleep. So these little restless movements don't wake you up all night long. I only want to hear the cries that indicate a leg is jammed between the slats or a bear has jumped through the window and is about to chew off his head. Any other noise, I don't really want amplified.

I had about 4 precious hours of sleep alloted into my crazy schedule last night. Instead of sleeping, I lay awake at 2am listening to a grip of blue paisly print being smoothed out behind the crib by chubby baby hands. All the while I was giving you my middle finger, Graco.
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