First, it was the heartburn. Then the forgetfulness. Not my typical forgetfulness, which is pervasive and annoying, but not so bad that I forget common words and old friends' names and how to put on pants. Which is what I have been doing lately. Finally, the fatigue. Days where, if it weren't for The Child, I would spend hours at a time lying in bed, staring at the ceiling fan and wishing for sleep.
A light bulb went on last Thursday.
And the two pink lines practically popped through the foil wrapper before I'd even opened it.
Yes, The Child is being promoted to Big Bad Sister. By my calculations, it will be February 22nd. If it is anything like The Child, I will look due sometime in September, and it will arrive somewhere around February 17th. If it IS anything like The Child, I'd best step it up with my crunches and sit-ups, or there will be epic lower back pain.
PS Yes, we DO know how babies happen, thanks for asking.
PPS Yes, I DO know I'll have a 17-month-old and a newborn. (I'm trying to maintain my optimism until I'm through the joys of first trimester)
Monday, June 29, 2009
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Tooth okay; brain not so much
I swear this kid KNOWS when I need her to be good and sweet for me. The last two days she has been the absolute best that I know she can be, despite Daddy being gone, and despite it being 85+ in here from about noon 'til 9pm. I'm not superstitious at all, but I am worried just a tad that the next kid will be her polar opposite and that I will have myself committed within three weeks of bringing it home.
Yeah, one thing I didn't mention (I never do, until after the fact) is that Jeremy was gone from Monday morning until this coming evening. So, pulled a tooth which was infected (thus more pain), taking care of crazed, curious baby in unholy heat and humidity, and no husband to help. Waaah! Now you see why I was so very grateful for my mom being here Monday night and Tuesday.
This reminds me, what do I do all day with a very energetic baby when we are stuck inside (I like this heat just fine--when I can lie around all day)? I do have a car, so going someplace is an option, but there really isn't much here. This is normally a good thing; if we had a Target anywhere nearby, I probably would have sent us to the poorhouse by now. It's quite warm in here, too--just enough that I'm comfortable and drowsy and keep falling asleep while trying to play with The Child. I'm even letting her play with power cords. Motherhood Fail yet again.
The Child also insists on being carried about half the time. Normally when this clinginess sets in, and I don't feel like indulging her, we either go on a long walk or go outside on the lawn. Not going to happen today, since it's 8 thousand degrees outside. And so humid that Shirtless Yardwork Neighbor Man has been donning swimming trunks when he goes outside. So long as he stays away from the Speedos...
Pediatrician appointment today. Our pediatrician just had a baby three months ago, and she looks so fabulous that I suddenly feel like hating her. But I don't because she's awesome. I hate being torn like this.
Grace is 19 lb 3 oz (this does not seem right to me, and I'm pretty sure she weighs at least a ton) and 30 inches long. Perfectly healthy, despite her beanpoleness (even though she has very chubby cheeks and thighs). It's odd and kind of creepy that I gave birth to my own husband.
Our neighbors behind us have a pool. Do you think it will seem obvious if I bring them pie now, after we've lived here nearly a year?
Friday our pastor and his wife and family are coming over for dinner. I had a meal all planned out, and then I realized there is NO WAY I am going to use the oven anytime soon. Even the toaster oven cooks up too much heat when it's this warm. Does anyone have any good ideas for boneless, skinless chicken breasts in the crock pot? Something that goes with spaghetti, salad, and marinara sauce? Also, I have a strong dislike for caraway and lots of oregano.
I swear I had more I've been meaning to write about, but my brain is completely boiled.
Yeah, one thing I didn't mention (I never do, until after the fact) is that Jeremy was gone from Monday morning until this coming evening. So, pulled a tooth which was infected (thus more pain), taking care of crazed, curious baby in unholy heat and humidity, and no husband to help. Waaah! Now you see why I was so very grateful for my mom being here Monday night and Tuesday.
This reminds me, what do I do all day with a very energetic baby when we are stuck inside (I like this heat just fine--when I can lie around all day)? I do have a car, so going someplace is an option, but there really isn't much here. This is normally a good thing; if we had a Target anywhere nearby, I probably would have sent us to the poorhouse by now. It's quite warm in here, too--just enough that I'm comfortable and drowsy and keep falling asleep while trying to play with The Child. I'm even letting her play with power cords. Motherhood Fail yet again.
The Child also insists on being carried about half the time. Normally when this clinginess sets in, and I don't feel like indulging her, we either go on a long walk or go outside on the lawn. Not going to happen today, since it's 8 thousand degrees outside. And so humid that Shirtless Yardwork Neighbor Man has been donning swimming trunks when he goes outside. So long as he stays away from the Speedos...
Pediatrician appointment today. Our pediatrician just had a baby three months ago, and she looks so fabulous that I suddenly feel like hating her. But I don't because she's awesome. I hate being torn like this.
Grace is 19 lb 3 oz (this does not seem right to me, and I'm pretty sure she weighs at least a ton) and 30 inches long. Perfectly healthy, despite her beanpoleness (even though she has very chubby cheeks and thighs). It's odd and kind of creepy that I gave birth to my own husband.
Our neighbors behind us have a pool. Do you think it will seem obvious if I bring them pie now, after we've lived here nearly a year?
Friday our pastor and his wife and family are coming over for dinner. I had a meal all planned out, and then I realized there is NO WAY I am going to use the oven anytime soon. Even the toaster oven cooks up too much heat when it's this warm. Does anyone have any good ideas for boneless, skinless chicken breasts in the crock pot? Something that goes with spaghetti, salad, and marinara sauce? Also, I have a strong dislike for caraway and lots of oregano.
I swear I had more I've been meaning to write about, but my brain is completely boiled.
Monday, June 22, 2009
Operation: Banish The Hell Tooth
First, I love my mom. Have I ever told you people that? My sister in law was going to babysit but couldn't, so I asked my mom, who was unexpectedly available. Cool mom points round one. Then, when I got home from my appointment and was in way more pain than I'd ever imagined a tooth could give you, she offered to stay the night. And then I wept into her shoulder. Or would have, except that my face had just been run over by a semi.
THEN. She took The Child on a walk in 90 DEGREE WEATHER (my mom just about dies when it's anything over about 60). And they've been gone for over an hour, and my face is feeling better, and I'm feeling like maybe I can handle parenthood again, imagine that! So it turned out it was a good thing my sister in law had to back out because with three kids, a job and a husband, there's no way she could have stayed this long, however much fun that would have been.
Second, I love my dentist. Totally worth the hour-long round trip. I love him almost as much as I love my OB. He was nice! And complimented my teeth! And chastised me for not flossing! And told me I needed a cleaning, STAT! But I didn't mind because he said it in such a way that I wanted to do these things just to make him happy. I do not know how he did that, but he did. And despite the horribleness of my visit, I retain my goodwill toward that man. And his hygienist. She was wonderful, too. I love that whole office, actually. A far, far cry from my previous experiences.
So, really? I'm kind of glad my tooth went kaplooey in a spectacularly awful way. There's nothing else that could have gotten me to a dentist, and while I'll probably always be nervous about dentists, this one made a huge dent (hahah! pun!) in my fear.
Now, I'm starving. I do not have the courage to eat. And you people know how I feel about food. *sob*
THEN. She took The Child on a walk in 90 DEGREE WEATHER (my mom just about dies when it's anything over about 60). And they've been gone for over an hour, and my face is feeling better, and I'm feeling like maybe I can handle parenthood again, imagine that! So it turned out it was a good thing my sister in law had to back out because with three kids, a job and a husband, there's no way she could have stayed this long, however much fun that would have been.
Second, I love my dentist. Totally worth the hour-long round trip. I love him almost as much as I love my OB. He was nice! And complimented my teeth! And chastised me for not flossing! And told me I needed a cleaning, STAT! But I didn't mind because he said it in such a way that I wanted to do these things just to make him happy. I do not know how he did that, but he did. And despite the horribleness of my visit, I retain my goodwill toward that man. And his hygienist. She was wonderful, too. I love that whole office, actually. A far, far cry from my previous experiences.
So, really? I'm kind of glad my tooth went kaplooey in a spectacularly awful way. There's nothing else that could have gotten me to a dentist, and while I'll probably always be nervous about dentists, this one made a huge dent (hahah! pun!) in my fear.
Now, I'm starving. I do not have the courage to eat. And you people know how I feel about food. *sob*
Sunday, June 21, 2009
Evil Tooth from Hell
Let me tell you something, kids. If you have a dentist phobia, don't ever let that keep you from taking care of tooth problems. Just trust me on this. PROMISE.
I had a root canal in 6th grade. Very weird, since I had perfect teeth until just a few years ago. Anyway, a while ago, it broke apart, but it didn't really hurt, so I just decided I could live with it. Until... I don't know when. I wasn't really thinking about that. I was just thinking I could keep avoiding the dentist forever. Which was REALLY REALLY DUMB, OH MY GOSH.
Yesterday I bit into a chicken sandwich, and then purple stars and razor blades erupted from The Tooth from Hell. There may have been profanity.
I took three ibuprofen, and the pain diminished, and I thought it would be okay until Monday, and then I took three more right before bed. However, I woke up in the middle of the night, and my jaw was on fire. So I took three more and tried to sleep. Silly me. It took a while.
And then today it just got worse and worse and worse until finally we got ahold of the dentist (who, by the way, I haven't even met yet, and he's already changing my opinion of dentists in general because he was so great with James and his wisdom teeth, and so great this evening on the phone). And I have painkillers and antibiotics on the way, as soon as James gets home from Walmart. However much that place pisses me off sometimes, I am quite pleased with them today. James got there after they closed, and they STILL started on my prescription. I am not sure that James passed on the message about me loving them and wanting to bake them all cookies, except that my baking skills are so abysmal as to make any cookies poisonous.
My tooth is getting taken care of tomorrow, maybe Tuesday, and I just cannot wait. I have never been excited to see a dentist. And, let me tell you people, I will never EVER be lax in going to the dentist again. And I will be ON IT if my kids tell me any dentist ever humiliates them so much they never want to go to one again. Because that's why I'm afraid of dentists. My dentist's motto was: Better oral hygiene through fear, humiliation and lectures! Dear Dentist Man, THAT DOESN'T WORK. It makes kids afraid of you forever, and it makes them ignore everything you say. Just FYI.
Well, I'm not entirely sure that's what really happened because I can't recall anything that actually happened (except that the Novocaine didn't work all that well). Just a general impression of feeling like a big fat loser who chewed on toilet seats for fun
I had a root canal in 6th grade. Very weird, since I had perfect teeth until just a few years ago. Anyway, a while ago, it broke apart, but it didn't really hurt, so I just decided I could live with it. Until... I don't know when. I wasn't really thinking about that. I was just thinking I could keep avoiding the dentist forever. Which was REALLY REALLY DUMB, OH MY GOSH.
Yesterday I bit into a chicken sandwich, and then purple stars and razor blades erupted from The Tooth from Hell. There may have been profanity.
I took three ibuprofen, and the pain diminished, and I thought it would be okay until Monday, and then I took three more right before bed. However, I woke up in the middle of the night, and my jaw was on fire. So I took three more and tried to sleep. Silly me. It took a while.
And then today it just got worse and worse and worse until finally we got ahold of the dentist (who, by the way, I haven't even met yet, and he's already changing my opinion of dentists in general because he was so great with James and his wisdom teeth, and so great this evening on the phone). And I have painkillers and antibiotics on the way, as soon as James gets home from Walmart. However much that place pisses me off sometimes, I am quite pleased with them today. James got there after they closed, and they STILL started on my prescription. I am not sure that James passed on the message about me loving them and wanting to bake them all cookies, except that my baking skills are so abysmal as to make any cookies poisonous.
My tooth is getting taken care of tomorrow, maybe Tuesday, and I just cannot wait. I have never been excited to see a dentist. And, let me tell you people, I will never EVER be lax in going to the dentist again. And I will be ON IT if my kids tell me any dentist ever humiliates them so much they never want to go to one again. Because that's why I'm afraid of dentists. My dentist's motto was: Better oral hygiene through fear, humiliation and lectures! Dear Dentist Man, THAT DOESN'T WORK. It makes kids afraid of you forever, and it makes them ignore everything you say. Just FYI.
Well, I'm not entirely sure that's what really happened because I can't recall anything that actually happened (except that the Novocaine didn't work all that well). Just a general impression of feeling like a big fat loser who chewed on toilet seats for fun
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
Where is my happy baby? +pictures
+There are more baby pictures up on Facebook, if anyone is interested.
Separation anxiety, I shake my fist at you. YARRRR!
The Child needs to be carried at all times these days. Well, let me modify that. I need to be available to carry her at all times these days. She's content sitting on the floor and playing for a while, provided that I am nearby and not standing up (BY GOLLY, WOMAN, YOU BETTER NOT STAND UP), and if she crawls over to me, I better pick her up RIGHT THIS MINUTE, WOMAN, I'M ONLY GONNA TELL YOU ONCE, and then when I pick her up, she will want that toy, YES THAT TOY, NO NOT THAT ONE, THAT ONE, OVER THERE, ACROSS THE ROOM, BUT BY GOLLY, WOMAN, YOU BETTER NOT PUT ME DOWN TO GO PICK IT UP, I INSIST YOU SCHLEP ME OVER THERE, and then if I go get it, she is immediately happy launching herself off my lap onto the floor to frolick about with that toy, and after .32 seconds of playing with the toy she MUST HAVE, she lurches madly toward another one, or probably a power cord or something else that could potentially kill her, and this is how I have spent 50% of every one of her waking moments for the last two days.
The other 50% is either spent with Daddy doing the same thing (with me out of the room, of course, or there will be more lurching and pathetic wailing) or with me doing what I have to do and trying my best to ignore her as she trails after me, lurching and wailing pathetically. She still sucks at crawling, so my very sadistic side gets some amusement out of watching her spasm toward me, and then when she finally gets to my shoe, OOPS, I have to go to the other side of the kitchen. No, I don't really do that on purpose to be cruel; she just has very good timing.
You know what doesn't help? Neverending teething and recurring horrible diaper rash. Her top left incisor has been coming in for centuries now, and I am on the verge of digging it out myself. Her bottom left incisor took forever, too.
MOTHERHOOD FAIL
(YET AGAIN)
(OR, WHOSE IDEA WAS IT TO SEND ME HOME WITH THIS A BABY, ANYWAY?)
In happier news, she is back to sleeping through the night, and OH MY GOSH I am such an idiot.
I talked to my sister about it because I was completely baffled by Grace's behavior. And my sister asked me if I was feeding her any solid foods before bed. And then I smacked my forehead so hard that I have permanent brain damage, not that it makes a difference because I'm already such a moron. So I started loading Grace up with some oatmeal and avocado (which she luuurves, and which I keep snitching while I'm feeding her because they are so good) before her last feeding of the night, and like magic, she started sleeping again.
I gotta say, though, these midnight feedings for the last week sent my supply through the roof. I am happy about that, as I was starting to worry a little. I do not want to have to buy formula, not when we are this close to the magical one-year mark.
I am thinking of sewing some full-body bibs for Grace. I have twelve thousand really cute receiving blankets just lying around, not getting used, and they would be perfect to turn into bibs. I just don't know how. It pains me to see them lying around, taking up space and not earning their keep. And I'm a cheapskate who doesn't want to spend money on huge bibs when I have all the materials right here. Aren't some of you good sewers? (hahahah! sewers!) Would you want to help a sister out?
There is a farmer's market here across the river every Wednesday, starting tomorrow. I would like to go, but I honestly don't know what they are, exactly. Is the idea just that they're locally grown goods? Are they cheaper? Are they organic or somehow better in any way? I'm planning on going anyway, since we usually walk through that park on our daily outing, but I just want to know if getting some cash from the ATM will be worth my time.
My sister also mocked me for getting bottled water for Grace. Hi, sister! So that now has me thinking, am I being silly? I'm pretty sure our water is safe (I think, by law, city water has to be safe), but our house is approximately three trillion years old, and I do not even want to know what kinds of things are seeping in through our pipes. And how does one go about getting one's water tested? Can I buy a kit? Do I have to call someone? Oh please tell me I do not have to call someone.
The other night we went out to eat at the local Mexican restaurant. We went there once when I was pregnant and LOVED it. The food was delicious, and the service was friendly; everything was great.
The other night? Not so much. We walked in, and a very sloppy-looking girl asked, "Are you eating?" James and I were both a little taken aback by that. No, we came here to perform the Splagantabas Ritual upon our infant daughter, and your dance floor happens to be on a center of power. But whatever. We said, "Yes." She waved a hand behind her and said, "You can sit wherever." So we found a table, and she followed us with menus, and then I asked if they had any high chairs. "I dunno. I'll go check." How do you not know if you have high chairs? I suppose she could have started the job five minutes ago and not been trained at all, but that's unlikely. (it turns out they don't have high chairs)
Our waitress was much better. Her English was a little shaky, but she was friendly and helpful and did a good job. The food, though. That was a different story. Oh my gosh. I ordered chicken flautas, which were supposed to come with refried beans, rice, lettuce, tomato, avocado and sour cream. I don't know what James got. But our food was cold. There are few things less appetizing than cold refried beans with melted and then hardened cheese on top. It looked like Jabba the Hut with a horrible toupee.
And my flautas has been fried into desiccated tubes of oil and starch. I almost broke a tooth trying to get through the chicken. In fact, it looked like they'd been made hours ago and then reheated in a lukewarm oven. The more I think about it, the more likely that seems.
There were no avocados, which has been my main reason for ordering the dish in the first place. I asked about those, and they did bring some right out. Normally that one thing wouldn't have bothered me; it's easy to forget one little thing. But together with everything else, it was just one more disappointment.
You people know how I feel about good food. I was very excited to be going out to eat, something we almost never do. I was almost displeased enough to ask for my money back. But that sort of confrontation makes me all shaky and scared. It was hard enough asking about the avocados. I may still call and try to speak to the owner or something; maybe they don't know that things are so horrible there.
And now I'm hungry.
Separation anxiety, I shake my fist at you. YARRRR!
The Child needs to be carried at all times these days. Well, let me modify that. I need to be available to carry her at all times these days. She's content sitting on the floor and playing for a while, provided that I am nearby and not standing up (BY GOLLY, WOMAN, YOU BETTER NOT STAND UP), and if she crawls over to me, I better pick her up RIGHT THIS MINUTE, WOMAN, I'M ONLY GONNA TELL YOU ONCE, and then when I pick her up, she will want that toy, YES THAT TOY, NO NOT THAT ONE, THAT ONE, OVER THERE, ACROSS THE ROOM, BUT BY GOLLY, WOMAN, YOU BETTER NOT PUT ME DOWN TO GO PICK IT UP, I INSIST YOU SCHLEP ME OVER THERE, and then if I go get it, she is immediately happy launching herself off my lap onto the floor to frolick about with that toy, and after .32 seconds of playing with the toy she MUST HAVE, she lurches madly toward another one, or probably a power cord or something else that could potentially kill her, and this is how I have spent 50% of every one of her waking moments for the last two days.
The other 50% is either spent with Daddy doing the same thing (with me out of the room, of course, or there will be more lurching and pathetic wailing) or with me doing what I have to do and trying my best to ignore her as she trails after me, lurching and wailing pathetically. She still sucks at crawling, so my very sadistic side gets some amusement out of watching her spasm toward me, and then when she finally gets to my shoe, OOPS, I have to go to the other side of the kitchen. No, I don't really do that on purpose to be cruel; she just has very good timing.
You know what doesn't help? Neverending teething and recurring horrible diaper rash. Her top left incisor has been coming in for centuries now, and I am on the verge of digging it out myself. Her bottom left incisor took forever, too.
MOTHERHOOD FAIL
(YET AGAIN)
(OR, WHOSE IDEA WAS IT TO SEND ME HOME WITH THIS A BABY, ANYWAY?)
In happier news, she is back to sleeping through the night, and OH MY GOSH I am such an idiot.
I talked to my sister about it because I was completely baffled by Grace's behavior. And my sister asked me if I was feeding her any solid foods before bed. And then I smacked my forehead so hard that I have permanent brain damage, not that it makes a difference because I'm already such a moron. So I started loading Grace up with some oatmeal and avocado (which she luuurves, and which I keep snitching while I'm feeding her because they are so good) before her last feeding of the night, and like magic, she started sleeping again.
I gotta say, though, these midnight feedings for the last week sent my supply through the roof. I am happy about that, as I was starting to worry a little. I do not want to have to buy formula, not when we are this close to the magical one-year mark.
I am thinking of sewing some full-body bibs for Grace. I have twelve thousand really cute receiving blankets just lying around, not getting used, and they would be perfect to turn into bibs. I just don't know how. It pains me to see them lying around, taking up space and not earning their keep. And I'm a cheapskate who doesn't want to spend money on huge bibs when I have all the materials right here. Aren't some of you good sewers? (hahahah! sewers!) Would you want to help a sister out?
There is a farmer's market here across the river every Wednesday, starting tomorrow. I would like to go, but I honestly don't know what they are, exactly. Is the idea just that they're locally grown goods? Are they cheaper? Are they organic or somehow better in any way? I'm planning on going anyway, since we usually walk through that park on our daily outing, but I just want to know if getting some cash from the ATM will be worth my time.
My sister also mocked me for getting bottled water for Grace. Hi, sister! So that now has me thinking, am I being silly? I'm pretty sure our water is safe (I think, by law, city water has to be safe), but our house is approximately three trillion years old, and I do not even want to know what kinds of things are seeping in through our pipes. And how does one go about getting one's water tested? Can I buy a kit? Do I have to call someone? Oh please tell me I do not have to call someone.
The other night we went out to eat at the local Mexican restaurant. We went there once when I was pregnant and LOVED it. The food was delicious, and the service was friendly; everything was great.
The other night? Not so much. We walked in, and a very sloppy-looking girl asked, "Are you eating?" James and I were both a little taken aback by that. No, we came here to perform the Splagantabas Ritual upon our infant daughter, and your dance floor happens to be on a center of power. But whatever. We said, "Yes." She waved a hand behind her and said, "You can sit wherever." So we found a table, and she followed us with menus, and then I asked if they had any high chairs. "I dunno. I'll go check." How do you not know if you have high chairs? I suppose she could have started the job five minutes ago and not been trained at all, but that's unlikely. (it turns out they don't have high chairs)
Our waitress was much better. Her English was a little shaky, but she was friendly and helpful and did a good job. The food, though. That was a different story. Oh my gosh. I ordered chicken flautas, which were supposed to come with refried beans, rice, lettuce, tomato, avocado and sour cream. I don't know what James got. But our food was cold. There are few things less appetizing than cold refried beans with melted and then hardened cheese on top. It looked like Jabba the Hut with a horrible toupee.
And my flautas has been fried into desiccated tubes of oil and starch. I almost broke a tooth trying to get through the chicken. In fact, it looked like they'd been made hours ago and then reheated in a lukewarm oven. The more I think about it, the more likely that seems.
There were no avocados, which has been my main reason for ordering the dish in the first place. I asked about those, and they did bring some right out. Normally that one thing wouldn't have bothered me; it's easy to forget one little thing. But together with everything else, it was just one more disappointment.
You people know how I feel about good food. I was very excited to be going out to eat, something we almost never do. I was almost displeased enough to ask for my money back. But that sort of confrontation makes me all shaky and scared. It was hard enough asking about the avocados. I may still call and try to speak to the owner or something; maybe they don't know that things are so horrible there.
And now I'm hungry.
Friday, June 5, 2009
I feel like I live in Torech Ungol
The spiders, oh my goodness. There was one on my SHAMPOO BOTTLE yesterday; she was just loitering there, enjoying the steam, or laying her eggs or something. I use two different shampoos because my hair is nuts, and I thank my lucky stars I was using my other shampoo that day. But still. I was done washing my hair, and I leaned over to get something else, when I saw it lurking. I swear those conniving harridans have daily meetings on How to Terrorize Naomi Today.
She met an unpleasant end. It involved hot water and Scrubbing Bubbles and a plugged drain, just in case she came back to life in the drain trap under the tub. They do that. No, I'm not kidding, and be careful all you people like me who can't even stand to look at pictures of spiders.
Today I went shopping with The Child, but as I was walking out to the car I looked down and I saw I was wearing my brownish canvas slip-on shoes. With a black shirt and grey and black polka-dotted socks. Baby drool all down my front and lifeless hair are more than enough I've Given Up on Life for me in one outfit, so I had to go back in. As I was unlocking my door, something brushed against my face. I've been working on Not Freaking Out over Every Little Thing, so I made myself not freak out. Because for every time I actually do have a spider web in my face, there are a frillion instances when it's just a piece of my own lifeless hair.
So I ignored it.
And then something floated down directly in front of my face. And dangled there. First, I Freaked Out. Then I got mean and went stomping after the thing, and when she kept darting into cracks at just the right moment, I yelled, "Die! Why won't you die! Die!" several times. And then she ran out of cracks to hide in, and she, too, met an unpleasant end on the bottom of my ugly shoe.
I'm sure the neighbors are thrilled about the crazy woman in the green house. Maybe this is why the teenager across the street lets her friends honk their horns instead of using the doorbell and plays her music so loud the bass causes our brains to liquefy and slams her truck door over and over and over and over again.
Carter's was having a sale today. Only instead of saying, "Clothing Sale!" everything said, "Baby Sale!" This cracked me up, but I'm not sure if it's because I'm way more tired than I realize or if it's because it was actually funny.
The Child officially crawls. She'd done it before, but it was just one step and then flat on her face. Yesterday and the day before, she crawled across the living room several times. It's very cute, but I probably would have been okay if she hadn't done that for another twelve months.
We bought some bottled water the other day. Great Value® water. We bought it because we're totally awesome parents and still haven't had our water tested, and Grace is now drinking a little bit of water, and I am using some in her food, and I want to make sure she doesn't grow an extra eye or start speaking only pig Latin just because I had to be a hippie and make her baby food with my tainted water.
So. Bottled water. When one buys something that says, "purified drinking water" on the front, you pretty much expect filtered tap water, which is fine. Well, in teeny little print, half of it obscured by a picture of a refreshing splash of water, it also says, "With flavor enhancing minerals." Those would be magnesium sulfate, potassium bicarbonate and potassium chloride, none of which are harmful to babies, but I'm still annoyed. Why would a store brand put additives in something that is supposed to be bland anyway? If I'm looking to buy flavored water, I'll buy flavored water. If I'm looking to buy water, I'll buy whatever is cheapest. I don't know many people who look for bottled water and say, "By golly, this potassium chloride is simply delicious! I must have it!" Dear Great Value®, you probably could have made your water even cheaper by just leaving it alone. Idiots.
Have you people seen this JuPoThiMo business? What did I tell you? August will be AugMyHeMo, for, "Augh, my head (please stop this nonsense)."
The Child is currently lurching about the floor and has somehow managed to gather all her noisy toys together. They are all going off at once, and she is very confused. I feel you, kid.
She is still sleeping like it's 2008. Now, I realize that, compared to a lot of people, I have nothing to complain about. But based on what I'm accustomed to, this broken sleep and early waking is making life difficult. I'm not yet to the point where I'm irritable and sad all the time. But I find myself gazing dumbly into space even more than is normal for me.
Earlier today, I went to mix up some coffee for myself (my second or third cup, so there's really no excuse). I put my sugar in before pouring my coffee, then went to do something else. I came back, expecting to drink my coffee, and was completely stymied by the blank white bottom of my mug. I must have stared into it for at least a minute.
My conversation of late has also been punctuated with a lot of "Uh," "Buh," "Guh," "Duh," "Boy I'm articulate!" and "Oh, you know what I'm trying to say!"
I talked to my sister about the sleeping issues last night. Her advice, if nothing else works, is to take up drinking. "That way you'll forget all the bad stuff, and you'll have pleasant memories of your kid." And people wonder where I get my twisted sense of humor.
So I'm off to booze it up.
She met an unpleasant end. It involved hot water and Scrubbing Bubbles and a plugged drain, just in case she came back to life in the drain trap under the tub. They do that. No, I'm not kidding, and be careful all you people like me who can't even stand to look at pictures of spiders.
Today I went shopping with The Child, but as I was walking out to the car I looked down and I saw I was wearing my brownish canvas slip-on shoes. With a black shirt and grey and black polka-dotted socks. Baby drool all down my front and lifeless hair are more than enough I've Given Up on Life for me in one outfit, so I had to go back in. As I was unlocking my door, something brushed against my face. I've been working on Not Freaking Out over Every Little Thing, so I made myself not freak out. Because for every time I actually do have a spider web in my face, there are a frillion instances when it's just a piece of my own lifeless hair.
So I ignored it.
And then something floated down directly in front of my face. And dangled there. First, I Freaked Out. Then I got mean and went stomping after the thing, and when she kept darting into cracks at just the right moment, I yelled, "Die! Why won't you die! Die!" several times. And then she ran out of cracks to hide in, and she, too, met an unpleasant end on the bottom of my ugly shoe.
I'm sure the neighbors are thrilled about the crazy woman in the green house. Maybe this is why the teenager across the street lets her friends honk their horns instead of using the doorbell and plays her music so loud the bass causes our brains to liquefy and slams her truck door over and over and over and over again.
Carter's was having a sale today. Only instead of saying, "Clothing Sale!" everything said, "Baby Sale!" This cracked me up, but I'm not sure if it's because I'm way more tired than I realize or if it's because it was actually funny.
The Child officially crawls. She'd done it before, but it was just one step and then flat on her face. Yesterday and the day before, she crawled across the living room several times. It's very cute, but I probably would have been okay if she hadn't done that for another twelve months.
We bought some bottled water the other day. Great Value® water. We bought it because we're totally awesome parents and still haven't had our water tested, and Grace is now drinking a little bit of water, and I am using some in her food, and I want to make sure she doesn't grow an extra eye or start speaking only pig Latin just because I had to be a hippie and make her baby food with my tainted water.
So. Bottled water. When one buys something that says, "purified drinking water" on the front, you pretty much expect filtered tap water, which is fine. Well, in teeny little print, half of it obscured by a picture of a refreshing splash of water, it also says, "With flavor enhancing minerals." Those would be magnesium sulfate, potassium bicarbonate and potassium chloride, none of which are harmful to babies, but I'm still annoyed. Why would a store brand put additives in something that is supposed to be bland anyway? If I'm looking to buy flavored water, I'll buy flavored water. If I'm looking to buy water, I'll buy whatever is cheapest. I don't know many people who look for bottled water and say, "By golly, this potassium chloride is simply delicious! I must have it!" Dear Great Value®, you probably could have made your water even cheaper by just leaving it alone. Idiots.
Have you people seen this JuPoThiMo business? What did I tell you? August will be AugMyHeMo, for, "Augh, my head (please stop this nonsense)."
The Child is currently lurching about the floor and has somehow managed to gather all her noisy toys together. They are all going off at once, and she is very confused. I feel you, kid.
She is still sleeping like it's 2008. Now, I realize that, compared to a lot of people, I have nothing to complain about. But based on what I'm accustomed to, this broken sleep and early waking is making life difficult. I'm not yet to the point where I'm irritable and sad all the time. But I find myself gazing dumbly into space even more than is normal for me.
Earlier today, I went to mix up some coffee for myself (my second or third cup, so there's really no excuse). I put my sugar in before pouring my coffee, then went to do something else. I came back, expecting to drink my coffee, and was completely stymied by the blank white bottom of my mug. I must have stared into it for at least a minute.
My conversation of late has also been punctuated with a lot of "Uh," "Buh," "Guh," "Duh," "Boy I'm articulate!" and "Oh, you know what I'm trying to say!"
I talked to my sister about the sleeping issues last night. Her advice, if nothing else works, is to take up drinking. "That way you'll forget all the bad stuff, and you'll have pleasant memories of your kid." And people wonder where I get my twisted sense of humor.
So I'm off to booze it up.
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
I'm being fired
Incredibly Cute Neglected Little Baby seeks Parents Who Care
Enjoys eating, eating, eating and chewing, chewing, chewing.
Boobs also important.
Playtime between 2:30am and 5:30am very important; I do punish
negligence by screaming until I gag.
Recreational screaming (not to be confused with upset screaming,
though they sound the same, which is why PWC must gaze at me
adoringly 24/7) is new favorite activity, as eardrums are optional.
PWC must be telepathic and have arms and backs of steel, as I require
much attention and alternate periods of carrying, rolling on floor, and
frequent changes of scenery and toys.
PWC must enjoy +5 Fingernails of Sharpness in soft, sensitive flesh.
Strangers strictly forbidden, even if they go by "Grandma" or "Grandpa".
PWC must provide strings, tags, power cords, remote controls, and
kitty cats who love to be chewed on.
Enjoys eating, eating, eating and chewing, chewing, chewing.
Boobs also important.
Playtime between 2:30am and 5:30am very important; I do punish
negligence by screaming until I gag.
Recreational screaming (not to be confused with upset screaming,
though they sound the same, which is why PWC must gaze at me
adoringly 24/7) is new favorite activity, as eardrums are optional.
PWC must be telepathic and have arms and backs of steel, as I require
much attention and alternate periods of carrying, rolling on floor, and
frequent changes of scenery and toys.
PWC must enjoy +5 Fingernails of Sharpness in soft, sensitive flesh.
Strangers strictly forbidden, even if they go by "Grandma" or "Grandpa".
PWC must provide strings, tags, power cords, remote controls, and
kitty cats who love to be chewed on.
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