It's official.
We have lost our minds.
We've spent nearly a year trying to teach Baby X to sleep through the night and every time he does? We wake up throughout the night to check on him because he hasn't woken up.
It had been awhile since Baby X slept through the night. He was working on popping out all of his teeth. He never got cranky during the day. He just wouldn't sleep all night.
So when he started doing it again last week, it was strange. I kept waking up and checking on him. I finally fell sound asleep at 3 am only to jump out of bed at 6:30 when I realized that I still hadn't heard from the little bugger.
Did you know that if you go running into a baby's room screaming their name they wake up?
Well, let me tell you, they do. And they get mighty pissed off at you for daring to disturb their sleep! Forget about going back to sleep after that. You are now doomed to a day of Sesame Street and patty cake.
This is insane! I slept better when he was waking me up at least once a night.
I vaguely remember something about this when Girl X was a baby. I think she was 4 before I started sleeping through the night again.
We're pathetic.
Mr X went to check on him before he left for work the other day since Baby X used to get up when Mr X did. At 4 am. Yeah. I'm not at my best at 4 am.
"Mrs X, baby is awake"
"Take him outside."
"Take the baby outside?"
"Take that whiny ass dog outside and quit bugging me."
"No, the baby is awake not the dog."
"Tell him to quit bugging me too."
I am so not a morning person. I thought it would be great when Baby X started sleeping through the night because hey! Sleep! I remember what it feels like to get a good night's sleep! I remember what it's like to not feel like crawling back into bed at 9 am to sleep until 2.
I guess I just didn't expect to have to train myself to sleep through the night now that Baby X is.
Monday, November 14, 2005
Sunday, November 13, 2005
Do you smell smoke?
Flashback time!
It was about 1985 and my parents went out for the evening and left my sister in charge for the very first time. It had taken much begging and the fact that no decent babysitter within a 20 mile radius would would stay on the phone the moment they said our names (a point which filled us with great pride). We were infamous!
Our house was old, built in the later end of the 1800's. There weren't many cabinets in the kitchen and very few places to keep the amount of snacks we savages went through in a week. Out of desperation, our parents kept a lot of our stash in the oven.
My parents left for the evening and we promptly ignored my sister's pleas to be good and began plotting what to destroy first. We had settled on boiling some old 8 tracks when my sister suggested dinner first.
It started off ok. Frozen pizza..... how bad could it be?
We sat around the table waiting for our pizza and debating on whether boiling the 8 tracks would work or if we'd have to stick them in the oven when the pizza was done.
"Do you smell smoke?"
I thought we were just burning the pizza but when we opened the oven a few small flames jumped out. My sister had missed a cellophane wrapped bag of chocolate covered pretzels in the back of the oven.
I screamed, my brothers both ran for the fire extinguisher and my sister ran to her room.
My brothers fought over who got to put out the fire and I ran next door to tell our neighbors that our house was on fire.
My younger brother won the argument when he agreed to let my older brother get first pick on in his Christmas presents.
The little bit of fire that was there could have been put out with just a squirt but being the little hellions that we were, one squirt was not going to cut it. Fire extinguishers smell awful! Emptying a fire extinguisher on a tiny fire? Really awful!
I wonder what my parents first thought when they pulled up and saw the fire department outside their house. I wonder what they thought when I came up and said 'It wasn't me' or when my younger brother came up and said 'There isn't any real damage!'
I wonder what they were thinking when they left us alone again!
It was about 1985 and my parents went out for the evening and left my sister in charge for the very first time. It had taken much begging and the fact that no decent babysitter within a 20 mile radius would would stay on the phone the moment they said our names (a point which filled us with great pride). We were infamous!
Our house was old, built in the later end of the 1800's. There weren't many cabinets in the kitchen and very few places to keep the amount of snacks we savages went through in a week. Out of desperation, our parents kept a lot of our stash in the oven.
My parents left for the evening and we promptly ignored my sister's pleas to be good and began plotting what to destroy first. We had settled on boiling some old 8 tracks when my sister suggested dinner first.
It started off ok. Frozen pizza..... how bad could it be?
We sat around the table waiting for our pizza and debating on whether boiling the 8 tracks would work or if we'd have to stick them in the oven when the pizza was done.
"Do you smell smoke?"
I thought we were just burning the pizza but when we opened the oven a few small flames jumped out. My sister had missed a cellophane wrapped bag of chocolate covered pretzels in the back of the oven.
I screamed, my brothers both ran for the fire extinguisher and my sister ran to her room.
My brothers fought over who got to put out the fire and I ran next door to tell our neighbors that our house was on fire.
My younger brother won the argument when he agreed to let my older brother get first pick on in his Christmas presents.
The little bit of fire that was there could have been put out with just a squirt but being the little hellions that we were, one squirt was not going to cut it. Fire extinguishers smell awful! Emptying a fire extinguisher on a tiny fire? Really awful!
I wonder what my parents first thought when they pulled up and saw the fire department outside their house. I wonder what they thought when I came up and said 'It wasn't me' or when my younger brother came up and said 'There isn't any real damage!'
I wonder what they were thinking when they left us alone again!
Thursday, November 10, 2005
Heavy
Girl X has been asking a lot of questions about death lately. We had gotten her off the subject for sometime, but it's back.
She will be turning 8 (8! when the hell did that happen??) next week.
Isn't this a little heavy for an 8 year old??? When I was 8 I was thinking about how to get back at my brother for blowing the head off my barbie doll with his bb gun. (Little bastard!) Girl X? She wants to discuss where Heaven is and how did G-d make the world? And why do things have to age? Why do years pass? Why do we get old? Why doesn't G-d want us to stay young? What happens to my body when I die?
And being that sort of parent who wants to do things just the opposite of mine, meaning tell her the truth, I am trying. But it's really hard and I don't want her to dwell on it. I don't want her to get so wrapped up in worrying about what comes next that she forgets about this lifetime because hey. It can be pretty damn great.
I blame Mr X a little bit for this.
He took her to the park one day and to get there, he had to pass a cemetary. She asked what it was. She was maybe 4. All he had to do was say a cemetary. If she asked further, ok, a little explanation. But damn! What he told her? I had nightmares. And she didn't get it. All she got was that there would be no more mom and dad and friends and toys and M&M's? Nope.
Personally, I think there must be M&M's in Heaven because there is no more perfect food that M&M's.
He meant well, he just forgot that she was 4. And easily scared.
So, when they came home and she was crying I had to sit with her and talk about G-d and why it wasn't bad. No, we weren't in a hurry to get there but it was ok.
She accepted this and for the most part, it's ok.
But every now and then she slips one of those questions in on me and it throws me for a loop.
I wish she'd give me more of those goofy questions. Like whether or not fish fart (they do, sort of). Or if cows speak human when we're not around to listen.
When she had her tooth pulled the other week? I said how cool it would be when the tooth fairy came and gave her a surprise. She said she thought fairies weren't real. Then she asked if they were. What could I do? I told her the truth (which, really? getting harder and harder the older she gets). That it's fun to pretend the tooth fairy is real and don't spoil it for the other kids. She wasn't upset. She asked if we could keep pretending too and we did.
Next she's going to ask me if Santa is real. I don't want to answer that yet! Let her have one more year believing in Santa before that childhood magic is gone too! We have always made such a big deal about Christmas. One year we stuck a piece of red cloth in the fire place grate and told her Santa's suit got caught in it. Her eyes were huge! She held that piece of cloth as if it were gold. She whispered 'wow' in total awe. It was amazing and one of my favorite moments. I'll never forget that 'wow'. That wonder.
My girl is getting older and soon, I'm going to have to face it. For today, I'm going to hold her in my lap one more moment. One more moment before she's too big or tells me how uncool that would be.
She will be turning 8 (8! when the hell did that happen??) next week.
Isn't this a little heavy for an 8 year old??? When I was 8 I was thinking about how to get back at my brother for blowing the head off my barbie doll with his bb gun. (Little bastard!) Girl X? She wants to discuss where Heaven is and how did G-d make the world? And why do things have to age? Why do years pass? Why do we get old? Why doesn't G-d want us to stay young? What happens to my body when I die?
And being that sort of parent who wants to do things just the opposite of mine, meaning tell her the truth, I am trying. But it's really hard and I don't want her to dwell on it. I don't want her to get so wrapped up in worrying about what comes next that she forgets about this lifetime because hey. It can be pretty damn great.
I blame Mr X a little bit for this.
He took her to the park one day and to get there, he had to pass a cemetary. She asked what it was. She was maybe 4. All he had to do was say a cemetary. If she asked further, ok, a little explanation. But damn! What he told her? I had nightmares. And she didn't get it. All she got was that there would be no more mom and dad and friends and toys and M&M's? Nope.
Personally, I think there must be M&M's in Heaven because there is no more perfect food that M&M's.
He meant well, he just forgot that she was 4. And easily scared.
So, when they came home and she was crying I had to sit with her and talk about G-d and why it wasn't bad. No, we weren't in a hurry to get there but it was ok.
She accepted this and for the most part, it's ok.
But every now and then she slips one of those questions in on me and it throws me for a loop.
I wish she'd give me more of those goofy questions. Like whether or not fish fart (they do, sort of). Or if cows speak human when we're not around to listen.
When she had her tooth pulled the other week? I said how cool it would be when the tooth fairy came and gave her a surprise. She said she thought fairies weren't real. Then she asked if they were. What could I do? I told her the truth (which, really? getting harder and harder the older she gets). That it's fun to pretend the tooth fairy is real and don't spoil it for the other kids. She wasn't upset. She asked if we could keep pretending too and we did.
Next she's going to ask me if Santa is real. I don't want to answer that yet! Let her have one more year believing in Santa before that childhood magic is gone too! We have always made such a big deal about Christmas. One year we stuck a piece of red cloth in the fire place grate and told her Santa's suit got caught in it. Her eyes were huge! She held that piece of cloth as if it were gold. She whispered 'wow' in total awe. It was amazing and one of my favorite moments. I'll never forget that 'wow'. That wonder.
My girl is getting older and soon, I'm going to have to face it. For today, I'm going to hold her in my lap one more moment. One more moment before she's too big or tells me how uncool that would be.
Tuesday, November 08, 2005
You Fool!!!
I had a physical therapy appointment today for my hand. I've been going for about 2 months now and it's slowly getting better. Meaning I can bend my wrist without screaming my head off. Baby X has to come with me because everyone I know either works or is my mother-in-law and anything left with my mother-in-law? Never seen again. And I've become pretty attached to Baby X. He's cute, he seems to like me and I have that whole room set up for him so yeah. I don't want to lose him amid Miss ok-love-you-bye-bye's massive pile-oh-crap.
Anyway, since I'm getting off track and did you notice that I do that a lot? Because I do. Like right now? I forgot what I was going to tell you. Oh right, physical therapy.
So, Baby X goes with me and it's lovely. He is such an easy going little squirt. He's one of those babies where you hate the mom because he rarely cries. It's not uncommon for him to go an entire day without a fuss. Yeah, ok. You can hate me now too.
He sits in his stroller and plays and flirts and eats those Gerber Fruit puffs and talks to his pointy finger (and I think the pointy finger talks back) and all is well. Since my appointments take an hour, this is really cool. And I get to talk to a real live human adult. And she actually talks back and does not ask me for things like Bratz dolls (so damn ugly) or diaper changes. She did ask though that I stop offering her Fruit Puffs and talking to her in that higher toned baby speak. And she's nice! Did I mention I get to talk to another living breathing Adult???? Yeah. So nice.
Today before I left I thought it would be nice if I actually wore clothes that did not say maternity on them or had spit up on them or marker. Or mashed fruit puffs. I thought I'd leave the house looking like I'd actually taken time to put on something I hadn't been sleeping in.
Ok, it was just jeans and a nice shirt (read clean and unstained) but wow! I felt human. There was no maternity label on the pants or shirt. No holes. It matched.
I was all pleased with myself. I packed up the diaper bag and picked up Baby X. I had just enough time to get to my appointment. I ran out to my car to strap in Baby X.
And then the inevitable happened.
Baby X spit up on me. All over my nice (read clean and previously unstained) shirt.
What was I thinking?
Anyway, since I'm getting off track and did you notice that I do that a lot? Because I do. Like right now? I forgot what I was going to tell you. Oh right, physical therapy.
So, Baby X goes with me and it's lovely. He is such an easy going little squirt. He's one of those babies where you hate the mom because he rarely cries. It's not uncommon for him to go an entire day without a fuss. Yeah, ok. You can hate me now too.
He sits in his stroller and plays and flirts and eats those Gerber Fruit puffs and talks to his pointy finger (and I think the pointy finger talks back) and all is well. Since my appointments take an hour, this is really cool. And I get to talk to a real live human adult. And she actually talks back and does not ask me for things like Bratz dolls (so damn ugly) or diaper changes. She did ask though that I stop offering her Fruit Puffs and talking to her in that higher toned baby speak. And she's nice! Did I mention I get to talk to another living breathing Adult???? Yeah. So nice.
Today before I left I thought it would be nice if I actually wore clothes that did not say maternity on them or had spit up on them or marker. Or mashed fruit puffs. I thought I'd leave the house looking like I'd actually taken time to put on something I hadn't been sleeping in.
Ok, it was just jeans and a nice shirt (read clean and unstained) but wow! I felt human. There was no maternity label on the pants or shirt. No holes. It matched.
I was all pleased with myself. I packed up the diaper bag and picked up Baby X. I had just enough time to get to my appointment. I ran out to my car to strap in Baby X.
And then the inevitable happened.
Baby X spit up on me. All over my nice (read clean and previously unstained) shirt.
What was I thinking?
Monday, November 07, 2005
I'm a Genious!!
Ok, so I know I'm totally not a genious, but hey... I'm feeling like it right now. Why? Because look over on the right! See that? There are links! Links to other blogs I procrastinate with! Links that I put there All By Myself!!
Woo-hoo!
Woo-hoo!
Friday, November 04, 2005
Ick! I Forever Don't..........
There are some commercials that are just so damn annoying they make your skin crawl everytime they air.
Even Dog X has a few that make him howl- literally. Sleep Country USA never fails to turn him into a raging Haller Monkey.
For me, ok there are a lot, but the one that's really annoying me right now is that one stupid jeweler commercial where the guy has his wife in some courtyard and tells her he'd marry her all over again and then she realizes that oh!, her whole family is there and wow he really means it. Awww..... how sweet, right? Yack! And the tagline? This year, tell her you forever do. Because really, the first time you said 'I do' you added 'for the next 3-5 years or until I get really bored' right?
Telling her that you weren't serious before but now that you've had a couple kids and you see nothing else is coming along? Ahh, what the hell honey, "I forever do!"
Couldn't they come up with something better?
Like.........
This year, tell her you're even for using her irish linen she inherited from her great-grandmother to clean your greasy tools at work.
Or.....
This year, make up for shrinking all her best clothes because you can't read labels.
*side note* I've pretty much forgiven Mr X by now for the above and he's vowed to never touch my wash again.*
I do love that Diet cherry vanilla Dr pepper commercial though. Where the woman is on a date and he's rambling on and she just starts singing that Manamana song. Love that. I wander through my day singing that in my head and only occasionally out loud.
Even Dog X has a few that make him howl- literally. Sleep Country USA never fails to turn him into a raging Haller Monkey.
For me, ok there are a lot, but the one that's really annoying me right now is that one stupid jeweler commercial where the guy has his wife in some courtyard and tells her he'd marry her all over again and then she realizes that oh!, her whole family is there and wow he really means it. Awww..... how sweet, right? Yack! And the tagline? This year, tell her you forever do. Because really, the first time you said 'I do' you added 'for the next 3-5 years or until I get really bored' right?
Telling her that you weren't serious before but now that you've had a couple kids and you see nothing else is coming along? Ahh, what the hell honey, "I forever do!"
Couldn't they come up with something better?
Like.........
This year, tell her you're even for using her irish linen she inherited from her great-grandmother to clean your greasy tools at work.
Or.....
This year, make up for shrinking all her best clothes because you can't read labels.
*side note* I've pretty much forgiven Mr X by now for the above and he's vowed to never touch my wash again.*
I do love that Diet cherry vanilla Dr pepper commercial though. Where the woman is on a date and he's rambling on and she just starts singing that Manamana song. Love that. I wander through my day singing that in my head and only occasionally out loud.
It's a BOY!!
Every day the sun will rise and set, the tide will ebb and flow, some politician somewhere will say something stupid. And without fail, each week I will have the following conversation...........
Some random stranger- "What a beautiful little girl you have!"
Me- "Boy"
SRS- "Boy what?"
Me- "He's a boy."
SRS- "Really?"
What the hell is that?? Like, maybe I've been mistaken for the past 11 months and that's not a penis? Am I now supposed to take off his diaper to prove it to you? Because that's not going to happen.
I don't really care that they think he's a girl (Even though he's dressed in blue covered in airplanes and I'm calling him by his very boy-only name), it's that they argue with me about it.
Does he really look like a girl to you???
Some random stranger- "What a beautiful little girl you have!"
Me- "Boy"
SRS- "Boy what?"
Me- "He's a boy."
SRS- "Really?"
What the hell is that?? Like, maybe I've been mistaken for the past 11 months and that's not a penis? Am I now supposed to take off his diaper to prove it to you? Because that's not going to happen.
I don't really care that they think he's a girl (Even though he's dressed in blue covered in airplanes and I'm calling him by his very boy-only name), it's that they argue with me about it.
Does he really look like a girl to you???
Thursday, November 03, 2005
November is a special month
I'd like to interupt my usual posting to take a moment and explain why November is so special to me.
November is Prematurity Awareness month.
Prematurity is the #1 killer of newborns. Each year nearly half a million babies must struggle for survival because they were born too soon.
It can happen to anyone. There is no rhyme or reason. The costs, both financially and emotionally, are extraordinary.
So what can you do?
Visit www.marchofdimes.com . Right on the front page is a little notice that medimmune will donate $1 everytime someone clicks on the link. It will only take you a moment. It won't cost you a thing. If you feel brave, read some of the information they have, or even more brave, some of the stories.
If you're really feeling generous, donate to one the many bands on the site made in honor of or in memory of a very special baby. Or make one of your own. http://www.marchofdimes.com/prematurity/how_help_srch_res.asp
November is Prematurity Awareness month.
Prematurity is the #1 killer of newborns. Each year nearly half a million babies must struggle for survival because they were born too soon.
It can happen to anyone. There is no rhyme or reason. The costs, both financially and emotionally, are extraordinary.
So what can you do?
Visit www.marchofdimes.com . Right on the front page is a little notice that medimmune will donate $1 everytime someone clicks on the link. It will only take you a moment. It won't cost you a thing. If you feel brave, read some of the information they have, or even more brave, some of the stories.
If you're really feeling generous, donate to one the many bands on the site made in honor of or in memory of a very special baby. Or make one of your own. http://www.marchofdimes.com/prematurity/how_help_srch_res.asp
Wednesday, November 02, 2005
How to Bathe your Mobile Baby
It's time for another episode of "what the hell have I gotten myself in too?"
Bath time. Ah yes, good times. Good times.
We haven't really done bath time since Baby X was 6 weeks old and I thought, 'Hey bath time! That's fun! Let's do it.' The instant the water touched his skin he screamed so loud and shrilly the dogs on our block began to howl! Yeah. So. Bath time was just not going to happen like that again, because really, I love to be able to hear. And by that I mean hear something other than the ringing that lasted for several hours after the bath.
Why don't I remember this from when Girl X was a baby? Because when she was that small I made her take showers with me because even then, I liked to be able to hear. By the time she was to big to hold in the shower, she was cubby enough not to feel arctic during baths.
So, for 11 months Baby x has taken a shower, and loved it. At first it was with me because he was tiny and Mr X was terrified of holding anyone so tiny and breakable. The first time in the shower, he fell asleep. I'm washing his hair, and he fell asleep. Awwwww..... At least it was 'Awwww' until I took him out of the shower and wrapped him in a towel.
When he got to big for me to hold, Mr X took him in with him. It worked well for us. Baby X got clean and we kept our hearing.
But he is nearly 11 months old. So..... bath time. Right?
Uh-huh.
Step 1- Gather all bathing supplies. Tub, washcloth, towel, hand towel (for your knees when you're kneeling on the floor begging baby to please not throw the ducky at you again), baby wash and toys.
Step 2- after sticking baby tub to bottom of big tub, fill with mildly warm water and toys. Announce to Baby X that it's bath time.
Step 3- Pull Baby X out from underneath your bed where he went to hide upon hearing the words 'bath' and 'time' spoken in reference to him. See Cat laughing at you. Remind yourself to set Baby X loose on him later.
Step 4- attempt to undress Baby X. *Refer to How To Dress Your Mobile Baby- and imagine it in reverse. October archives, 'shake it off'*
Step 5- Call for help from Mr X.
Step 6- 20 minutes have passed before you can get Baby X undressed and the water is now cold. Empty tub and refill with warm water.
Step 7- track down Baby X in your room. Grin evilly when you notice he is sitting on Cat. Payback is a bare baby butt on your head.
Step 8- After placing Baby in the tub, sitting upright in the seat, hand him a rubber ducky which he promptly throws at your head. And then laughs hysterically.
Step 9- After foolishly giving back the ducky, 9 times, realize you aren't going to win and remove the ducky from his reach.
Step 10- Wet Baby's hair with a cup. Tell him to stop trying to drink the bath water. Giggle when he manages to lift one eyebrow at you ala The Rock.
Step 11- Wash hair. Work up such a good lather that it becomes imperative to shape Baby X's hair into various hair-dos. Horns, spikes, side waves and a mohawk. Rock on little dude!
Step 12- Take washcloth and begin to try to wash Baby.
Step 13- Pry washcloth from baby X's hand and wash arm.
Step 14- Repeat step 13 until all parts have been washed.
Step 15- Sputter as baby X figures out that slamming his hands down makes the water go everywhere. Like in your face and mouth.
Step 16- In a desperate attempt to get Baby X to stop splashing, return rubber ducky.
Step 17- Quickly begin to rinse Baby X, dodging the flying duck as you go.
Step 18- Sigh and resign yourself to getting soaked when Baby X learns it's fun to slam the Ducky into the water and really make mommy wet.
Step 19- Lift Baby X from the water and wrap up into a big fluffy towel.
Step 20- Giggle at his monster face and grab a towel to dry yourself off a bit as well.
Step 21- Refer to *How to Change/Dress Your Mobile Baby*
Step 22- Pass Baby X to Mr X and pass out from sheer exhaustion and swear that you are never doing that again.
30 minutes prep time (includes undressing the monster), 30 minutes to dry both of you and get him dressed, 10 minutes to clean up. All for the 2 minutes it actually took me to wash him.
Bath time. Ah yes, good times. Good times.
We haven't really done bath time since Baby X was 6 weeks old and I thought, 'Hey bath time! That's fun! Let's do it.' The instant the water touched his skin he screamed so loud and shrilly the dogs on our block began to howl! Yeah. So. Bath time was just not going to happen like that again, because really, I love to be able to hear. And by that I mean hear something other than the ringing that lasted for several hours after the bath.
Why don't I remember this from when Girl X was a baby? Because when she was that small I made her take showers with me because even then, I liked to be able to hear. By the time she was to big to hold in the shower, she was cubby enough not to feel arctic during baths.
So, for 11 months Baby x has taken a shower, and loved it. At first it was with me because he was tiny and Mr X was terrified of holding anyone so tiny and breakable. The first time in the shower, he fell asleep. I'm washing his hair, and he fell asleep. Awwwww..... At least it was 'Awwww' until I took him out of the shower and wrapped him in a towel.
When he got to big for me to hold, Mr X took him in with him. It worked well for us. Baby X got clean and we kept our hearing.
But he is nearly 11 months old. So..... bath time. Right?
Uh-huh.
Step 1- Gather all bathing supplies. Tub, washcloth, towel, hand towel (for your knees when you're kneeling on the floor begging baby to please not throw the ducky at you again), baby wash and toys.
Step 2- after sticking baby tub to bottom of big tub, fill with mildly warm water and toys. Announce to Baby X that it's bath time.
Step 3- Pull Baby X out from underneath your bed where he went to hide upon hearing the words 'bath' and 'time' spoken in reference to him. See Cat laughing at you. Remind yourself to set Baby X loose on him later.
Step 4- attempt to undress Baby X. *Refer to How To Dress Your Mobile Baby- and imagine it in reverse. October archives, 'shake it off'*
Step 5- Call for help from Mr X.
Step 6- 20 minutes have passed before you can get Baby X undressed and the water is now cold. Empty tub and refill with warm water.
Step 7- track down Baby X in your room. Grin evilly when you notice he is sitting on Cat. Payback is a bare baby butt on your head.
Step 8- After placing Baby in the tub, sitting upright in the seat, hand him a rubber ducky which he promptly throws at your head. And then laughs hysterically.
Step 9- After foolishly giving back the ducky, 9 times, realize you aren't going to win and remove the ducky from his reach.
Step 10- Wet Baby's hair with a cup. Tell him to stop trying to drink the bath water. Giggle when he manages to lift one eyebrow at you ala The Rock.
Step 11- Wash hair. Work up such a good lather that it becomes imperative to shape Baby X's hair into various hair-dos. Horns, spikes, side waves and a mohawk. Rock on little dude!
Step 12- Take washcloth and begin to try to wash Baby.
Step 13- Pry washcloth from baby X's hand and wash arm.
Step 14- Repeat step 13 until all parts have been washed.
Step 15- Sputter as baby X figures out that slamming his hands down makes the water go everywhere. Like in your face and mouth.
Step 16- In a desperate attempt to get Baby X to stop splashing, return rubber ducky.
Step 17- Quickly begin to rinse Baby X, dodging the flying duck as you go.
Step 18- Sigh and resign yourself to getting soaked when Baby X learns it's fun to slam the Ducky into the water and really make mommy wet.
Step 19- Lift Baby X from the water and wrap up into a big fluffy towel.
Step 20- Giggle at his monster face and grab a towel to dry yourself off a bit as well.
Step 21- Refer to *How to Change/Dress Your Mobile Baby*
Step 22- Pass Baby X to Mr X and pass out from sheer exhaustion and swear that you are never doing that again.
30 minutes prep time (includes undressing the monster), 30 minutes to dry both of you and get him dressed, 10 minutes to clean up. All for the 2 minutes it actually took me to wash him.
Tuesday, November 01, 2005
Because he can........
It's been a busy weekend/ first half of the week. And it's only going to bet busier.
We had a Halloween party for the kids and some of the Girl's friends. We had a blast. I already made a post about it but I guess Blogger was hungry because *poof* it's gone. Damn Blogger. Anyway, the party just reminded me I'm lucky. I married the kind of guy I'd always hoped to find. He dressed up like Dr I.B. Wicked and let the kids smell and touch some monsters parts. Ex: Mouse breath (parmesan cheese) and intestines (oily spaghetti).
Then Sunday Girl X fell out of bed. Well, she says fell. I think she must have been catapulted out of a dead sleep and landed on the giant IKEA cubby shelving thing we use for her toys. Don't worry, her face broke her fall. She was actually not to bad for most of the day. A little swollen but she could eat and still wanted to go to build-a-bear. She had been waiting all summer to go and had finally saved up enough money from chores to get exactly what she wanted.
Monday morning she came out and her upper lip was hanging over her bottom one. She couldn't eat and when she talked it was out of the corner of her mouth with her teeth clenched. Ouch.
Emergency dentist to the rescue. After assurances from Girl X that we hadn't in fact been beating her senseless with our copy of War and Peace, they took x-rays. She had knocked one of teeth so far back they had to pull it because it wasn't coming out on it's own. She also has extensive and severe tissue trauma. Ouch. She only cried a little at the novacaine and I know it must have burned so bad! She's one tough cookie. Good thing too. She's going to need that. Once the appointment was over she demanded that I take her to school. She wasn't missing her Halloween party for anything.
So if you made it this far, congratulations. Or thank you.
Oh, and the title of this post. Yeah.
It's over for me. I'm done. Might as well hand over what little pieces of sanity I had left.
Baby X has learned the magic word. 'No'.
"Baby X, don't bite the cat!" "Nooooo!"
"Baby X, get away from the cat with mommy's knitting needles." "No"
"Baby X, don't eat the dog food" "NOOOO"
"Baby X, it's time for a nap" "NNOOOOO"
"Baby X, can I have a kiss?" "NNNNOOOOO!!! Dada!"
Yeah, like Dada is going to rescue him. And pardon me bubba, but as the one who let you borrow my body for 9 months (and no vacating it a few weeks early doesn't make us even) I get to kiss you any time I please.
His answer to everything now is 'no'. Not because he always actually means 'no'. It's just because he can. And as with every new thing he learns, he must do it frequently and at persistently louder levels.
And at 3 am.
We had a Halloween party for the kids and some of the Girl's friends. We had a blast. I already made a post about it but I guess Blogger was hungry because *poof* it's gone. Damn Blogger. Anyway, the party just reminded me I'm lucky. I married the kind of guy I'd always hoped to find. He dressed up like Dr I.B. Wicked and let the kids smell and touch some monsters parts. Ex: Mouse breath (parmesan cheese) and intestines (oily spaghetti).
Then Sunday Girl X fell out of bed. Well, she says fell. I think she must have been catapulted out of a dead sleep and landed on the giant IKEA cubby shelving thing we use for her toys. Don't worry, her face broke her fall. She was actually not to bad for most of the day. A little swollen but she could eat and still wanted to go to build-a-bear. She had been waiting all summer to go and had finally saved up enough money from chores to get exactly what she wanted.
Monday morning she came out and her upper lip was hanging over her bottom one. She couldn't eat and when she talked it was out of the corner of her mouth with her teeth clenched. Ouch.
Emergency dentist to the rescue. After assurances from Girl X that we hadn't in fact been beating her senseless with our copy of War and Peace, they took x-rays. She had knocked one of teeth so far back they had to pull it because it wasn't coming out on it's own. She also has extensive and severe tissue trauma. Ouch. She only cried a little at the novacaine and I know it must have burned so bad! She's one tough cookie. Good thing too. She's going to need that. Once the appointment was over she demanded that I take her to school. She wasn't missing her Halloween party for anything.
So if you made it this far, congratulations. Or thank you.
Oh, and the title of this post. Yeah.
It's over for me. I'm done. Might as well hand over what little pieces of sanity I had left.
Baby X has learned the magic word. 'No'.
"Baby X, don't bite the cat!" "Nooooo!"
"Baby X, get away from the cat with mommy's knitting needles." "No"
"Baby X, don't eat the dog food" "NOOOO"
"Baby X, it's time for a nap" "NNOOOOO"
"Baby X, can I have a kiss?" "NNNNOOOOO!!! Dada!"
Yeah, like Dada is going to rescue him. And pardon me bubba, but as the one who let you borrow my body for 9 months (and no vacating it a few weeks early doesn't make us even) I get to kiss you any time I please.
His answer to everything now is 'no'. Not because he always actually means 'no'. It's just because he can. And as with every new thing he learns, he must do it frequently and at persistently louder levels.
And at 3 am.
Wednesday, October 26, 2005
Oh. My. Well then.........
I got this from another blog..... Spinning girl's I think.
It's funny and sad and strange and it kind of goes along with that 'freak magnet' thing and well.........
Go see for yourself.
http://www.planetdan.net/pics/babies/index.htm
It's funny and sad and strange and it kind of goes along with that 'freak magnet' thing and well.........
Go see for yourself.
http://www.planetdan.net/pics/babies/index.htm
I am a Freak Magnet
I don't know if it's the way I look, if I'm broadcasting 'All Freaks Welcome Here', or if it's some odd pheromone I'm giving off but if there is an oddball within a 50 mile radius of me, that person will find me. And talk to me. About strange things that I didn't want to know about. Or I will happen to see someone doing something strange. Something I didn't want to see. Like the other day that lady in Target who lifted up her shirt to fix her belt and let her boobs get a lot of fresh air. No, she wasn't wearing a bra and yes, she knew it.
When you're pregnant, it's expected that you will run into some very strange people. Because normal people would not just come up and start touching your belly. I used to touch theirs back. Or tell them that Damien didn't like that. Or tell them I bite. You get the picture.
After the baby is born and you think it's safe to go out in public, you get the weirdos who want to touch your baby and offer you all kinds of advice. My favorite advice to offer back is "You shouldn't touch a baby you don't know. You don't know where he's been".
That's expected. It's inevitable.
I seem to attract them even when I'm by myself.
Today it was the clerk at the store who told me about her Pekinese's Hershey squirts. In full, colorful, detail.
Or the time I was waiting to meet a friend at the mall and this guy walked up to me and started telling me about how his best friend's wife left him for another man and his best friend didn't know that the other man was him and did I think he should tell him? Because if I did he guessed maybe he should but he didn't want his best friend to be mad at him because he was kind of hoping that his best friend would be his best man.
Or that time I went to get my hair cut and that stylist couldn't stop talking about her sister's husbands penis which she accidentally saw when she accidentally walked in on him in the bathroom but is wasn't really an accident because she thinks that subconsciously she wanted to do it because he is hot and OH. MY. GOSH!! It was huge and then she felt bad but he didn't say anything to her sister his wife because her sister would have been ticked but she can't decide if that counts as cheating and wait! That bastard! How could he cheat on her sister!
Or the lady at grocery store who had to tell me all about her husbands colonic and the diet he's on now and really it's not so bad but wow does she miss chocolate.
I could go on for pages. Lots of pages.
I don't know. Maybe I am a freak magnet. Or maybe people are just getting freakier!
When you're pregnant, it's expected that you will run into some very strange people. Because normal people would not just come up and start touching your belly. I used to touch theirs back. Or tell them that Damien didn't like that. Or tell them I bite. You get the picture.
After the baby is born and you think it's safe to go out in public, you get the weirdos who want to touch your baby and offer you all kinds of advice. My favorite advice to offer back is "You shouldn't touch a baby you don't know. You don't know where he's been".
That's expected. It's inevitable.
I seem to attract them even when I'm by myself.
Today it was the clerk at the store who told me about her Pekinese's Hershey squirts. In full, colorful, detail.
Or the time I was waiting to meet a friend at the mall and this guy walked up to me and started telling me about how his best friend's wife left him for another man and his best friend didn't know that the other man was him and did I think he should tell him? Because if I did he guessed maybe he should but he didn't want his best friend to be mad at him because he was kind of hoping that his best friend would be his best man.
Or that time I went to get my hair cut and that stylist couldn't stop talking about her sister's husbands penis which she accidentally saw when she accidentally walked in on him in the bathroom but is wasn't really an accident because she thinks that subconsciously she wanted to do it because he is hot and OH. MY. GOSH!! It was huge and then she felt bad but he didn't say anything to her sister his wife because her sister would have been ticked but she can't decide if that counts as cheating and wait! That bastard! How could he cheat on her sister!
Or the lady at grocery store who had to tell me all about her husbands colonic and the diet he's on now and really it's not so bad but wow does she miss chocolate.
I could go on for pages. Lots of pages.
I don't know. Maybe I am a freak magnet. Or maybe people are just getting freakier!
Tuesday, October 25, 2005
The Hunt for a Red Shower Curtain
This is completely absurd. I've been searching for a red shower curtain for 2 weeks now. Yes. 2 WEEKS PEOPLE! And I'm tired.
Mr X finally finished the downstairs bathroom and I thought 'Red would be a great accent to the caramel.' Because it would, but also because I am always the one to pick something that cannot be found. And no other color will do now. It has to be red.
Mr X wants it to be vinyl. I don't really care. Personally, I would have gone with fabric but whatever. Of course, if we had just gone with the fabric, this hunt would have been over with 2 weeks ago.
Actually, this is going into week 3 now.
I've hit every store. Linens n' things, Penney's, Sears, Mervyn's, Macy's, WalMart, KMart, Target......... etc. Today it was Bed Bath and Beyond.
They had 2 red vinyl shower curtains. The first was so butt ugly only Ms Ok love you bye bye would have wanted it. The other was plain. Simple red. Would have been fine but for the price I could go get the fabric one I fell in love with at Target.
Mr X tried to be helpful. He went to Fred Meyers and bought a shower curtain. "Look! Red, shiny, perfect!"
On what planet would hot pink ever pass for red?
I think he may be color blind.
Why is that the one thing you want to find is impossible to find?
I'm going to buy the fabric one from Target. Mr X will just have to deal.
Of course, that also means that a month from now we will find the perfect red vinyl shower curtain. Because that's just the way it works.
Mr X finally finished the downstairs bathroom and I thought 'Red would be a great accent to the caramel.' Because it would, but also because I am always the one to pick something that cannot be found. And no other color will do now. It has to be red.
Mr X wants it to be vinyl. I don't really care. Personally, I would have gone with fabric but whatever. Of course, if we had just gone with the fabric, this hunt would have been over with 2 weeks ago.
Actually, this is going into week 3 now.
I've hit every store. Linens n' things, Penney's, Sears, Mervyn's, Macy's, WalMart, KMart, Target......... etc. Today it was Bed Bath and Beyond.
They had 2 red vinyl shower curtains. The first was so butt ugly only Ms Ok love you bye bye would have wanted it. The other was plain. Simple red. Would have been fine but for the price I could go get the fabric one I fell in love with at Target.
Mr X tried to be helpful. He went to Fred Meyers and bought a shower curtain. "Look! Red, shiny, perfect!"
On what planet would hot pink ever pass for red?
I think he may be color blind.
Why is that the one thing you want to find is impossible to find?
I'm going to buy the fabric one from Target. Mr X will just have to deal.
Of course, that also means that a month from now we will find the perfect red vinyl shower curtain. Because that's just the way it works.
Monday, October 24, 2005
Why I need to be padded at all times.....
I am a klutz.
Scratch that.
I am the Queen of all That is embarrassingly Clumsy. All Hail Queen Klutz.
Some days, it is all I can do to walk upright 2 feet without tripping on the air in front of my feet. And I have always been like this.
I've tried to improve my balance and gracefulness. I've taken ballet. I was told I looked like an Orangutan having a seizure. I've tried Yoga. Mr X nearly called 911 because he thought I was having a stroke. I do pilates. Notice that I said do and not did. It's not that I don't look ridiculous because I do. It's just that I do it in my living room when no one else is home so no one minds that I look like I have been possessed.
Girl X has inherited my, um..... gracefulness? Yeah. Because I have so much of that. How about my need to always be wearing a helmet and shin guards because the Earth might spin today and that means I will fall. And fall often.
Yup. That about sums that up.
I know what it feels like to lose a pencil in a cast because the itching is making you crazy. When the Dr cut my foot cast off after 6 weeks I had 5 pencils, 3 pens, a pixi stick, and my brother's Darth Vader action figure Light Saber thing in there. The Dr just looked at me like I had 3 heads.
My pinky will never again go straight on it's own. I got it caught in a drill press while I was wearing gloves. It was bent so far back my entire finger turned a lovely shade of eggplant.
Scars? Yup. Got plenty of those. There's the one on my knee from when I thought I could cut an apple in half in one chop. While it sat on my knee. With a very sharp knife. I was 7. Remember when I said we weren't the smartest kids in the neighborhood? Yeah. I meant me too.
Girl X hasn't had a cast yet but give her time. My first wasn't until I was 12. We have had to make a few trips to the ER for her. Like the year she went backwards on her tummy down the never-ending slide. In the rain. In a skirt. She was 5. She ripped her skin off from her chest to her tummy and didn't say a word until she got home from school 3 hours later. It was ugly. I cried. So, naturally, she started crying.
She's fallen off the monkey bars. Once a week for a few months before I finally said "no more monkey bars". Now she just doesn't tell me when she falls off them.
I hope Baby X takes after his dad. We're lucky we have insurance but I think it's supposed to be a bad thing when the ER Dr's know you by name.
They see me and mutter to each other "I can't believe she's still alive!" and "Haven't they learned to keep her away from all things sharp?"
Last night I made a beautiful dinner. Roast beef, Mashed red potatoes, Mushroom gravy (and I hate gravy but love this stuff!), veggies. I did it all without hurting myself.
Until I tried to take the roast out of the dish.
It slipped right off my fork and splashed back into the baking dish. Grease. Everywhere.
Then I started to burn. I had managed to burn my boob. It hurt. I yelped.
Sadly, this is not the first time I have done something so stupid. Even more sad..........
It won't be the last.
Scratch that.
I am the Queen of all That is embarrassingly Clumsy. All Hail Queen Klutz.
Some days, it is all I can do to walk upright 2 feet without tripping on the air in front of my feet. And I have always been like this.
I've tried to improve my balance and gracefulness. I've taken ballet. I was told I looked like an Orangutan having a seizure. I've tried Yoga. Mr X nearly called 911 because he thought I was having a stroke. I do pilates. Notice that I said do and not did. It's not that I don't look ridiculous because I do. It's just that I do it in my living room when no one else is home so no one minds that I look like I have been possessed.
Girl X has inherited my, um..... gracefulness? Yeah. Because I have so much of that. How about my need to always be wearing a helmet and shin guards because the Earth might spin today and that means I will fall. And fall often.
Yup. That about sums that up.
I know what it feels like to lose a pencil in a cast because the itching is making you crazy. When the Dr cut my foot cast off after 6 weeks I had 5 pencils, 3 pens, a pixi stick, and my brother's Darth Vader action figure Light Saber thing in there. The Dr just looked at me like I had 3 heads.
My pinky will never again go straight on it's own. I got it caught in a drill press while I was wearing gloves. It was bent so far back my entire finger turned a lovely shade of eggplant.
Scars? Yup. Got plenty of those. There's the one on my knee from when I thought I could cut an apple in half in one chop. While it sat on my knee. With a very sharp knife. I was 7. Remember when I said we weren't the smartest kids in the neighborhood? Yeah. I meant me too.
Girl X hasn't had a cast yet but give her time. My first wasn't until I was 12. We have had to make a few trips to the ER for her. Like the year she went backwards on her tummy down the never-ending slide. In the rain. In a skirt. She was 5. She ripped her skin off from her chest to her tummy and didn't say a word until she got home from school 3 hours later. It was ugly. I cried. So, naturally, she started crying.
She's fallen off the monkey bars. Once a week for a few months before I finally said "no more monkey bars". Now she just doesn't tell me when she falls off them.
I hope Baby X takes after his dad. We're lucky we have insurance but I think it's supposed to be a bad thing when the ER Dr's know you by name.
They see me and mutter to each other "I can't believe she's still alive!" and "Haven't they learned to keep her away from all things sharp?"
Last night I made a beautiful dinner. Roast beef, Mashed red potatoes, Mushroom gravy (and I hate gravy but love this stuff!), veggies. I did it all without hurting myself.
Until I tried to take the roast out of the dish.
It slipped right off my fork and splashed back into the baking dish. Grease. Everywhere.
Then I started to burn. I had managed to burn my boob. It hurt. I yelped.
Sadly, this is not the first time I have done something so stupid. Even more sad..........
It won't be the last.
Wednesday, October 19, 2005
Why?
Why does my saying 'Get back here!' make Baby X crawl faster towards whatever it is that he isn't supposed to be getting into? Why is he fascinated with eating paper? Especially important papers like say, his sister's homework? I wonder how that excuse worked at school! Why is Baby X fascinated by the trash can?
It's Karma people.
It's payback for all the things I used to do to my parents. I didn't get to experience a lot of this with Girl X because I was working a lot.
Today I have pulled Baby X out of the trash can twice because Girl X keeps forgetting to close the closet door that we hid the trash can in. I've turned the ceiling fan light on and off 565 times and set the ceiling fan on low to keep up with his fascination of all things spinning and flashy. What is that about anyway? I could stand at the light switch for an hour and he wouldn't get bored. Bright. Dark. Bright. Dark. Bright. Dark. Meanwhile, I'm dying for some adult conversation because Mr X has been buried in remodel hell and I've been sick.
I almost forgot that there are no sick days for moms. I tried convincing Baby X that it was my day off but even hugging the toilet didn't deter him from happily chewing on Cat's tail, much to Dog's amusement.
And of course Baby X had to go and get sick to despite the fact that I said 'No'. I think telling him 'No' makes him more determined to do it.
And while crawling around with a snot bubble the size of Cleveland may seem like fun to him, I cannot resist the urge to wipe it away. This, naturally, makes him furious. I took his new toy away.
And after spending the second morning in a row hugging the toilet and waking up at 3 am starving for the 3rd night in a row (nevermind that I can't eat during the day) I'd like to take a moment and pray that the rabbit is still alive.
It's Karma people.
It's payback for all the things I used to do to my parents. I didn't get to experience a lot of this with Girl X because I was working a lot.
Today I have pulled Baby X out of the trash can twice because Girl X keeps forgetting to close the closet door that we hid the trash can in. I've turned the ceiling fan light on and off 565 times and set the ceiling fan on low to keep up with his fascination of all things spinning and flashy. What is that about anyway? I could stand at the light switch for an hour and he wouldn't get bored. Bright. Dark. Bright. Dark. Bright. Dark. Meanwhile, I'm dying for some adult conversation because Mr X has been buried in remodel hell and I've been sick.
I almost forgot that there are no sick days for moms. I tried convincing Baby X that it was my day off but even hugging the toilet didn't deter him from happily chewing on Cat's tail, much to Dog's amusement.
And of course Baby X had to go and get sick to despite the fact that I said 'No'. I think telling him 'No' makes him more determined to do it.
And while crawling around with a snot bubble the size of Cleveland may seem like fun to him, I cannot resist the urge to wipe it away. This, naturally, makes him furious. I took his new toy away.
And after spending the second morning in a row hugging the toilet and waking up at 3 am starving for the 3rd night in a row (nevermind that I can't eat during the day) I'd like to take a moment and pray that the rabbit is still alive.
Saturday, October 15, 2005
I'm sorry Erik Estrada
Yes. It's that guy from CHIPS.
And something more recent.So why am I showing you pictures of Erik Estrada?
Because I have a problem. Or I need to stop sleeping with my t.v. on at night. (I need noise to sleep).
Because last night Erik Estrada invaded my dreams. I told Mr X about it and he was jealous for all of 2 seconds until I told him what happened. Then I got the Look. The Look is this thing he does to tell me I'm crazy.
See, in my dream, we were hanging out with a bunch of my friends. By 'we' I mean Erik Estrada and myself. It was some sort of group therapy thing. At first he was the modern Erik Estrada. Then suddenly he was the CHIPS era Erik Estrada with the uniform and everything. We were joking around and I started making fun of his hair. I told him he had old man hair.
Erik Estrada began to cry. He also returned to the more modern Erik Estrada, who has much nicer hair.
I felt terrible! I made Erik Estrada cry! I'm a horrible person.
So, Erik Estrada, I'm so sorry! You have very nice hair and not old manish at all.
Friday, October 14, 2005
Dad X vs the Chipmunk
In case you've ever wondered how I ended up as crazy as I am, it's genetic. Ok, partly genetic and partly environmental because hey, you know what I do all day. Rescue Cat from Baby X; remove various non-edible items from Baby X's mouth; beg Girl X to not become a teenager and thereby destroy any last shred of sanity I may be holding onto; avoid any and all calls from Ms. Ok-love-you-bye-bye; etc.
But today it's all about the genetic part. My dad. I love him. He's funny, he's fairly mellow, he decided it was better to pretend not to see that I had died my hair pink as a teenager (yes. pink.), and so on. Maybe that's why he's insane now. But, no. I think he's always been crazy, just maybe not so obvious about it. Or maybe because I was a kid and then, you know, a teen, I just didn't notice. Because when you're a teen (please Girl X don't ever become a teen!) your parents just don't exist. Right? So, anyway. The Chipmunk. I think the Chipmunk must be related to the Mutant Squirrels. It has issues. Unfortunately for this Chipmunk, so does my dad. His yard being one of them.
When I called this past weekend, I was treated to the whole story of the Chipmunk.
It started when they (my parents) moved into their new house three years ago. There was a hole in the middle of the yard. Not big. Just, well, Chipmunk sized. They filled it. It mysteriously reappeared. They filled it again and put a bird feeder on it. The end.
Until they moved the bird feeder to another spot.
The hole is back. In the same spot as three years ago. I guess Chipmunks have a long memory? That could be scary. Because if Chipmunk is related to the Mutant Squirrels, and Chipmunk has a long memory then Mutant Squirrels probably do to right? Eeep!
So, back to the hole. They watched Chipmunk dig the hole. They waited. They refilled it. An hour later, it's back. Dad X refilled the hole with compost. "Ha! Take that Chipmunk. Your hole is now full of trash that is good for the environment! Ha ha ha!"
Chipmunk dug all the compost out. "Ha! Take that puny human!"
Dad X shoved an apple down the hole and refilled the rest with dirt. "Ha! Take that freak Chipmunk! It's got to be too heavy for you!"
Next day. An apple in the middle of the yard. Attached was a note. "Ha! Foolish human! I take steroids and therefore am Superman strong!"
Ok not really but at this point my dad is seriously losing it.
He filled the hole with marbles and bird seed and then put the grass down on top of it.
His yard is now full of marbles and he swears there are more now than what he started with. I suggested that perhaps he should no longer screw with the Chipmunk.
No. Because, people, that would be what any normal sane person would do.
No. My dad decides to shove a stuffed chipmunk in the hole.
Why?
Because I told you. He's insane.
Chipmunk does not appreciate having his hole crammed full of various things. Stuffed chipmunk didn't last very long.
I can picture my dad now in the yard with a cement mixer laughing hysterically.
And Chipmunk will be right behind him with a jack hammer.
But today it's all about the genetic part. My dad. I love him. He's funny, he's fairly mellow, he decided it was better to pretend not to see that I had died my hair pink as a teenager (yes. pink.), and so on. Maybe that's why he's insane now. But, no. I think he's always been crazy, just maybe not so obvious about it. Or maybe because I was a kid and then, you know, a teen, I just didn't notice. Because when you're a teen (please Girl X don't ever become a teen!) your parents just don't exist. Right? So, anyway. The Chipmunk. I think the Chipmunk must be related to the Mutant Squirrels. It has issues. Unfortunately for this Chipmunk, so does my dad. His yard being one of them.
When I called this past weekend, I was treated to the whole story of the Chipmunk.
It started when they (my parents) moved into their new house three years ago. There was a hole in the middle of the yard. Not big. Just, well, Chipmunk sized. They filled it. It mysteriously reappeared. They filled it again and put a bird feeder on it. The end.
Until they moved the bird feeder to another spot.
The hole is back. In the same spot as three years ago. I guess Chipmunks have a long memory? That could be scary. Because if Chipmunk is related to the Mutant Squirrels, and Chipmunk has a long memory then Mutant Squirrels probably do to right? Eeep!
So, back to the hole. They watched Chipmunk dig the hole. They waited. They refilled it. An hour later, it's back. Dad X refilled the hole with compost. "Ha! Take that Chipmunk. Your hole is now full of trash that is good for the environment! Ha ha ha!"
Chipmunk dug all the compost out. "Ha! Take that puny human!"
Dad X shoved an apple down the hole and refilled the rest with dirt. "Ha! Take that freak Chipmunk! It's got to be too heavy for you!"
Next day. An apple in the middle of the yard. Attached was a note. "Ha! Foolish human! I take steroids and therefore am Superman strong!"
Ok not really but at this point my dad is seriously losing it.
He filled the hole with marbles and bird seed and then put the grass down on top of it.
His yard is now full of marbles and he swears there are more now than what he started with. I suggested that perhaps he should no longer screw with the Chipmunk.
No. Because, people, that would be what any normal sane person would do.
No. My dad decides to shove a stuffed chipmunk in the hole.
Why?
Because I told you. He's insane.
Chipmunk does not appreciate having his hole crammed full of various things. Stuffed chipmunk didn't last very long.
I can picture my dad now in the yard with a cement mixer laughing hysterically.
And Chipmunk will be right behind him with a jack hammer.
Tuesday, October 11, 2005
Who needs what now?
This looked potentially funny so I'm accepting the Tag.
Everybody Needs; Here's what you do...go to google.com and type "(your name or screen/blog name) needs", The pick the 5 funniest ones there. Post them in the comments section here for all to read!
Mrs. X needs someone accommodating. Damn skippy I do!
Mrs X needs $500000 to pay her gambling debts. So I don't gamble, I'll still take it!
when agitated – Mrs X needs to be calmed’, Meh.... calm for what? Agitation is fun.
Mrs X needs a neck rub after the garage door fell on her and her car
Sounds like something I would do.
Mrs X needs witnesses to make her case stronger I asked for that yesterday and it got me in trouble.
I think I was expecting something different. Most of what popped up had to do with elderly care. The one about Mrs X needs 2 people to assist her on the toilet was just creepy for me.
Consider yourself tagged. I hope yours come out funnier.
Everybody Needs; Here's what you do...go to google.com and type "(your name or screen/blog name) needs", The pick the 5 funniest ones there. Post them in the comments section here for all to read!
Mrs. X needs someone accommodating. Damn skippy I do!
Mrs X needs $500000 to pay her gambling debts. So I don't gamble, I'll still take it!
when agitated – Mrs X needs to be calmed’, Meh.... calm for what? Agitation is fun.
Mrs X needs a neck rub after the garage door fell on her and her car
Sounds like something I would do.
Mrs X needs witnesses to make her case stronger I asked for that yesterday and it got me in trouble.
I think I was expecting something different. Most of what popped up had to do with elderly care. The one about Mrs X needs 2 people to assist her on the toilet was just creepy for me.
Consider yourself tagged. I hope yours come out funnier.
Monday, October 10, 2005
Times My Big Mouth Has Gotten Me In Trouble
Oh boy there are a lot of these. Um, how about 'Times my big mouth has gotten me in trouble lately'? Because otherwise we could be here all year.
1) Calling the sales clerks at Bath and Body Works 'Soap Nazis'. They didn't find it nearly as funny as I did. In my defense, I can't walk in there without at least 2 of them swarming me and throwing gobs of lotion and/or soap at me.
2) Running into an aquaintance I don't particularly care for and haven't seen in quite some time. She says "Oh, you had a baby!" To which I reply with "No, actually I just stole him from some lady at Sears. Shhhh, don't tell. Hey, would you like to be my alibi?" Some people have no sense of humor.
3) Suggesting to another customer at Gap Kids that perhaps she should invest in some type of child restraint system for her kids. "Hey I hear they make straight jackets for kids. They're not just for the crazies anymore." I like kids, I really do, I just don't like parents who let their kids run wild because to teach them any manners might harm their fragile little egos. Well, I might harm their fragile little egos if they kick me or throw that damn ball at me one more time. And thanks sales clerk, but that wasn't your fault. I walked by 30 minutes later and those little hellions were swinging from those little security detectors by the doors.
4) In response to the cop asking me if I knew why he pulled me over........
"Because you couldn't catch up with the other guy?"
At least he had a sense of humor and didn't give me a ticket.
Well, that's from this week and look! It's only Monday.
I guess I just don't think before I speak sometimes. Usually when I'm really annoyed. Sometimes it works for me (no speeding ticket!) sometimes it doesn't (I guess it's the body shop for me from now on!).
1) Calling the sales clerks at Bath and Body Works 'Soap Nazis'. They didn't find it nearly as funny as I did. In my defense, I can't walk in there without at least 2 of them swarming me and throwing gobs of lotion and/or soap at me.
2) Running into an aquaintance I don't particularly care for and haven't seen in quite some time. She says "Oh, you had a baby!" To which I reply with "No, actually I just stole him from some lady at Sears. Shhhh, don't tell. Hey, would you like to be my alibi?" Some people have no sense of humor.
3) Suggesting to another customer at Gap Kids that perhaps she should invest in some type of child restraint system for her kids. "Hey I hear they make straight jackets for kids. They're not just for the crazies anymore." I like kids, I really do, I just don't like parents who let their kids run wild because to teach them any manners might harm their fragile little egos. Well, I might harm their fragile little egos if they kick me or throw that damn ball at me one more time. And thanks sales clerk, but that wasn't your fault. I walked by 30 minutes later and those little hellions were swinging from those little security detectors by the doors.
4) In response to the cop asking me if I knew why he pulled me over........
"Because you couldn't catch up with the other guy?"
At least he had a sense of humor and didn't give me a ticket.
Well, that's from this week and look! It's only Monday.
I guess I just don't think before I speak sometimes. Usually when I'm really annoyed. Sometimes it works for me (no speeding ticket!) sometimes it doesn't (I guess it's the body shop for me from now on!).
Friday, October 07, 2005
How to feed a Mobile Baby
As promised, and for your amusement.
Step one: Make the sign for eat. Watch as Baby X takes that as permission to eat Cat. Get dirty look from Cat.
Step two: Pry Baby X from Cat and put in highchair.
Step three: Quickly, and after extensive training from the pit crew of a Nascar driver, strap Baby X into seat. Use the attached buckles and three rolls of duct tape. Pray that it holds. Important to note: Hands must be free for finger foods.
Step four: grab baby food, preferably something with fruit or sweet potatoes because anything else will be promplty thrown at you or spit back at you.
Step five: Foolishly believe that today would be a good day to allow Baby X to self feed some of the baby food. Distinctly hear Cat snicker before running away after announcing this to Baby X.
Step six: Mistake Baby X's smile and eagerness as good signs. Will now know for next time that these are signs of impending mess that will rival the http://thediaryofmrsx.blogspot.com/2005/08/great-mustard-vs-ketchup-battle-of.html (forgive the messy link. I'm a computer idiot).
Step seven: Hand Baby X a little dipper and a small bowl. Sign for eat. Baby X looks at dipper, throws it at you and grabs bowl. Reapeat 5 times.
Step eight: Pick up bowl from floor. Realize the carpet is a lost cause. Hope that pureed blueberries will not ruin new shirt. Call yourself an idiot for wearing new shirt during feeding times.
Step nine: Give up on self-feeding for the day. Go to kitchen and grab a new jar of food as the other is currently staining your carpet.
Step ten: Attempt to feed Baby X. For a few minutes it goes well. Sign in relief.
Step eleven: Realize sighing, and therefore signaling that you've relaxed in the presence of Baby X was a huge mistake as Baby X monsters. Attempt to dodge the food being blown out of Baby X's mouth.
Step twelve: Baby X decides he really is hungry so feeding may resume. I realize Baby X has the attention span of a gnat. Scratch that. A gnat's baby. Be amazed as Baby X, though strapped in with 3 rolls of duct tape and buckled, manages to contort himself enough to face the opposite direction.
Step thirteen: Walk around to the other side of the high chair in order to give Baby X a bite. As soon as you get there, Baby X turns in the opposite direction. Repeat 50 times while occasionally getting a bite in.
Step fourteen: Give Baby X some gerber fruit puffs.
Step fifteen: Yelp as Baby X bites you as you attempt to pull out 14 of the 15 fruit puffs he just shoved in his mouth.
Step sixteen: Bandage fingers and wonder if human bites are as bite as animal ones.
Step seventeen: remove duct tape and set Baby X free to chase Cat.
Step eighteen: Thank all that is good and right that dinner is still four hours away.
Step one: Make the sign for eat. Watch as Baby X takes that as permission to eat Cat. Get dirty look from Cat.
Step two: Pry Baby X from Cat and put in highchair.
Step three: Quickly, and after extensive training from the pit crew of a Nascar driver, strap Baby X into seat. Use the attached buckles and three rolls of duct tape. Pray that it holds. Important to note: Hands must be free for finger foods.
Step four: grab baby food, preferably something with fruit or sweet potatoes because anything else will be promplty thrown at you or spit back at you.
Step five: Foolishly believe that today would be a good day to allow Baby X to self feed some of the baby food. Distinctly hear Cat snicker before running away after announcing this to Baby X.
Step six: Mistake Baby X's smile and eagerness as good signs. Will now know for next time that these are signs of impending mess that will rival the http://thediaryofmrsx.blogspot.com/2005/08/great-mustard-vs-ketchup-battle-of.html (forgive the messy link. I'm a computer idiot).
Step seven: Hand Baby X a little dipper and a small bowl. Sign for eat. Baby X looks at dipper, throws it at you and grabs bowl. Reapeat 5 times.
Step eight: Pick up bowl from floor. Realize the carpet is a lost cause. Hope that pureed blueberries will not ruin new shirt. Call yourself an idiot for wearing new shirt during feeding times.
Step nine: Give up on self-feeding for the day. Go to kitchen and grab a new jar of food as the other is currently staining your carpet.
Step ten: Attempt to feed Baby X. For a few minutes it goes well. Sign in relief.
Step eleven: Realize sighing, and therefore signaling that you've relaxed in the presence of Baby X was a huge mistake as Baby X monsters. Attempt to dodge the food being blown out of Baby X's mouth.
Step twelve: Baby X decides he really is hungry so feeding may resume. I realize Baby X has the attention span of a gnat. Scratch that. A gnat's baby. Be amazed as Baby X, though strapped in with 3 rolls of duct tape and buckled, manages to contort himself enough to face the opposite direction.
Step thirteen: Walk around to the other side of the high chair in order to give Baby X a bite. As soon as you get there, Baby X turns in the opposite direction. Repeat 50 times while occasionally getting a bite in.
Step fourteen: Give Baby X some gerber fruit puffs.
Step fifteen: Yelp as Baby X bites you as you attempt to pull out 14 of the 15 fruit puffs he just shoved in his mouth.
Step sixteen: Bandage fingers and wonder if human bites are as bite as animal ones.
Step seventeen: remove duct tape and set Baby X free to chase Cat.
Step eighteen: Thank all that is good and right that dinner is still four hours away.
Thursday, October 06, 2005
Shake it off
In an effort to lighten the mood here, I'm going to post something I learned this past week. Feel free to laugh at me. I did. Eventually.
How To Dress A Moving Baby
Baby X has become quite mobile. Now more commando style crawling. He is up on his knees tearing through the house at lightening speed. He's also very adept at pulling his happy little butt to stand up on, well, everything. This has made diaper changes and dressing an effort in futility. At first it wasn't so bad because I could hand him a toy and he'd be "Oh wow! A toy! What does it do? What does it taste like? If I throw it at Mom will it make noise. No, she made noise though. Throw it again. Throw it again. Throw it again. Oh what? I'm done? I can go now? Great!"
But now, throwing things at me has lost some of it's novelty. I don't make that funny squeaky noise like the cat does.
Here is our typical morning:
Step one: Pull Baby X out from underneath the bed and assure cat that fur will in fact grow back. Dodge sharp teeth. Close gate after Dog so Dog does not get same treatment. Pry fur from Baby X's hand. Enter Baby X's room.
Step two: gather diapers, lotion, wipes, clothes and socks. Stop Baby X from eating nightlight. Tell Girl X she better go eat before the bus gets here.
Step three: Smile at Baby X as he smiles back. Baby X notices clothes and diaper and lotion and socks. Chase Baby X down the hall with above stated necessities. Stop Baby X from eating a shoe left on the floor.
Step four: Return from nailing shoe to the ceiling out of Baby X's reach to find Baby X gleefully emptying the recycle bin. Ask Girl X why she didn't stop him. Glare as she laughs "He was having fun." Mutter "Someday you'll have kids just like you". Cry when you realize your dad said the same thing to you.
Step five: After putting recyclables back in bin, bring Baby X into the living room where you put the stash of necessities. Realize you forgot the wipes. Send Girl X for them because you know if you don't, you will return to find Baby X chewing on the Cat's tail.
Step six: Smile at Baby X and begin to remove pajamas. Know that you are in for it when he just smiles back.
Step 7: Lay Baby X down and hand him a toy. Prepare diaper and wipes. Announce that you are 'going in'. Snicker when Girl X says "That's gross!"
Open the diaper and quickly agree with Girl X.
Step 8: Put one hand on Baby X and beg him not to move. He smiles at you and then Monsters.
Step 9: After scrubbing your hands with hot hot water and industrial strength soap, grab the carpet cleaner and hope that it works. Toss dirty diaper and the rag used to scrub the carpet in the trash.
Step 10: Wrestle Cat's tail out of Baby X's mouth. Attempt to remove cat hair from Baby X's mouth.
Step 11: Lay Baby X down and hand him a toy. Watch as toy flies out of Baby X's hand and nails Cat in the head. Make a mental note to give extra treat to Cat. Begin to apply lotion. While applying lotion, continuously flip Baby X back over on his back and sing songs as he tries to get away.
Step 12: Lotion has been applied to one leg and the opposite foot. Give up because it's just not going to happen.
Step 13: Grab Baby X's leg and begin to fit through pant leg. Grab other leg and try to put through other pant leg. Repeat 6 times.
Step 14: Quickly stand Baby X up and bounce him into his pants as he rips out chunks of your hair. (What does this kind have against hair??)
Step 15: Lay Baby X down to snap his pants. Repeat 4 times.
Step 16: Grab shirt and chase after Baby X. Attempt to put shirt on Baby X as Baby X plays with the buttons on the TV.
Step 17: Attempt to put shirt on Baby X as he vaults after his sister.
Step 18: Shirt is half on. Call it a compromise and pick up the socks. Get them on as Baby X crawls down the hall.
Step 19: 2 minutes later, see that Baby X has pulled both socks off and is eating them. Shrug shoulders and let it go.
It amazes me that this kid isn't naked, like, always. I must be inept or something right? People, really, this kid hates clothes. Clothes, socks, shoes, hats. Just doesn't want to wear them. He figured out how to take his pants off now too. Once he can get his shirt off, forget it. I hope he grows out of it. Secretly, I have this fear that he will be going to school in his batman underroos and nothing else because I just can't get him to stay fully dressed.
Next time: How to Feed A Mobile Baby
Till then, wave if you see me. I'm easy to spot. I'm the half bald woman with the naked baby.
How To Dress A Moving Baby
Baby X has become quite mobile. Now more commando style crawling. He is up on his knees tearing through the house at lightening speed. He's also very adept at pulling his happy little butt to stand up on, well, everything. This has made diaper changes and dressing an effort in futility. At first it wasn't so bad because I could hand him a toy and he'd be "Oh wow! A toy! What does it do? What does it taste like? If I throw it at Mom will it make noise. No, she made noise though. Throw it again. Throw it again. Throw it again. Oh what? I'm done? I can go now? Great!"
But now, throwing things at me has lost some of it's novelty. I don't make that funny squeaky noise like the cat does.
Here is our typical morning:
Step one: Pull Baby X out from underneath the bed and assure cat that fur will in fact grow back. Dodge sharp teeth. Close gate after Dog so Dog does not get same treatment. Pry fur from Baby X's hand. Enter Baby X's room.
Step two: gather diapers, lotion, wipes, clothes and socks. Stop Baby X from eating nightlight. Tell Girl X she better go eat before the bus gets here.
Step three: Smile at Baby X as he smiles back. Baby X notices clothes and diaper and lotion and socks. Chase Baby X down the hall with above stated necessities. Stop Baby X from eating a shoe left on the floor.
Step four: Return from nailing shoe to the ceiling out of Baby X's reach to find Baby X gleefully emptying the recycle bin. Ask Girl X why she didn't stop him. Glare as she laughs "He was having fun." Mutter "Someday you'll have kids just like you". Cry when you realize your dad said the same thing to you.
Step five: After putting recyclables back in bin, bring Baby X into the living room where you put the stash of necessities. Realize you forgot the wipes. Send Girl X for them because you know if you don't, you will return to find Baby X chewing on the Cat's tail.
Step six: Smile at Baby X and begin to remove pajamas. Know that you are in for it when he just smiles back.
Step 7: Lay Baby X down and hand him a toy. Prepare diaper and wipes. Announce that you are 'going in'. Snicker when Girl X says "That's gross!"
Open the diaper and quickly agree with Girl X.
Step 8: Put one hand on Baby X and beg him not to move. He smiles at you and then Monsters.
Step 9: After scrubbing your hands with hot hot water and industrial strength soap, grab the carpet cleaner and hope that it works. Toss dirty diaper and the rag used to scrub the carpet in the trash.
Step 10: Wrestle Cat's tail out of Baby X's mouth. Attempt to remove cat hair from Baby X's mouth.
Step 11: Lay Baby X down and hand him a toy. Watch as toy flies out of Baby X's hand and nails Cat in the head. Make a mental note to give extra treat to Cat. Begin to apply lotion. While applying lotion, continuously flip Baby X back over on his back and sing songs as he tries to get away.
Step 12: Lotion has been applied to one leg and the opposite foot. Give up because it's just not going to happen.
Step 13: Grab Baby X's leg and begin to fit through pant leg. Grab other leg and try to put through other pant leg. Repeat 6 times.
Step 14: Quickly stand Baby X up and bounce him into his pants as he rips out chunks of your hair. (What does this kind have against hair??)
Step 15: Lay Baby X down to snap his pants. Repeat 4 times.
Step 16: Grab shirt and chase after Baby X. Attempt to put shirt on Baby X as Baby X plays with the buttons on the TV.
Step 17: Attempt to put shirt on Baby X as he vaults after his sister.
Step 18: Shirt is half on. Call it a compromise and pick up the socks. Get them on as Baby X crawls down the hall.
Step 19: 2 minutes later, see that Baby X has pulled both socks off and is eating them. Shrug shoulders and let it go.
It amazes me that this kid isn't naked, like, always. I must be inept or something right? People, really, this kid hates clothes. Clothes, socks, shoes, hats. Just doesn't want to wear them. He figured out how to take his pants off now too. Once he can get his shirt off, forget it. I hope he grows out of it. Secretly, I have this fear that he will be going to school in his batman underroos and nothing else because I just can't get him to stay fully dressed.
Next time: How to Feed A Mobile Baby
Till then, wave if you see me. I'm easy to spot. I'm the half bald woman with the naked baby.
Tuesday, October 04, 2005
Still on a Rampage
Maybe just a funk. I should amend yesterdays post to read that two people I care about are now wearing shoes that shouldn't fit. I hate that.
Normally, I talk to Mr X at night. Even nights he's been working on the downstairs rooms, he still takes time to listen. But I couldn't. I couldn't open my mouth.
It's not him. I know he'll listen and understand. I just couldn't do it.
I felt drained and tired. Then guilty because I don't know why. I do and I don't really.
I hate feeling helpless. I feel that way so often lately. Like I want so badly to do something positive but just can't.
I know what I really want to do and I will. I just have to find the courage to bring it up to her. I also need to find the right words. It can't be too long if she says it's ok.
I know, this is scattered and I'm not making much sense.
I'll get back to my normal self, whatever that is, eventually.
Normally, I talk to Mr X at night. Even nights he's been working on the downstairs rooms, he still takes time to listen. But I couldn't. I couldn't open my mouth.
It's not him. I know he'll listen and understand. I just couldn't do it.
I felt drained and tired. Then guilty because I don't know why. I do and I don't really.
I hate feeling helpless. I feel that way so often lately. Like I want so badly to do something positive but just can't.
I know what I really want to do and I will. I just have to find the courage to bring it up to her. I also need to find the right words. It can't be too long if she says it's ok.
I know, this is scattered and I'm not making much sense.
I'll get back to my normal self, whatever that is, eventually.
Monday, October 03, 2005
A Scarlet Letter
Today is not a happy day. I'll warn you now that this may not be a good day to read. There will be some things that are hard to 'hear' but I'm in a pissy mood.
Someone who also went through what I did asked what my mc's took from me.
I hadn't really thought of it before then. I had only really thought of what I had gained from it.
A stronger marriage- if we could survive that, we could get through anything.
A feeling of being stronger- because after it was all over, even though I had my moments, I still got up everyday. I still took care of what needed to be taken care of. I didn't give up.
I became more determined- not just to have a baby but in everything. Now when I hear can't, I have to. I've had too much 'can't'. I need some 'can'. (Gee, that sounds kind of bad!)
For what I lost.........
I guess my naivete. Some of my faith in things that true and just.
In a perfect and just world, babies don't die. Babies are born on time and in perfect health. They grow into children in perfect health. They become adults and have children of their own. They bury their parents, not the other way around. In a world where things are as they should be, a parent would never know what it feels like to touch tiny fingers only one time and then have to carry that memory and that memory alone with them, in their unwhole heart for the rest of their lives. A parent would count those fingers and toes and kiss them and have them wiggle back from being tickled. In the world that I wish was true, a parent would never go to the Dr and find that their baby was no longer there, no matter how far along they were.But it isn't that way. Tragedy strikes at the very moment when you should be able to breathe. The moment you should be at your very happiest.There is no way to know why. Different people will offer different opinons as to what they believe but really, we just don't know why. I think that makes it even more horrible. We like the rhyme and reason to life and sometimes it just isn't there. There is no justification, no understanding. It's hard to say that 'it is what it is', but ... well, it is what it is.Losing a child turns your world upside down. Suddenly everything you believed, everything you knew, it's gone. And when suddenly your world stops spinning and tossing you around, you have to try to find your feet again. It's like being spun around so fast and for so long and you're so dizzy then someone says "Ok, walk straight." Because no matter how much we'd like it to be different, people don't want to hear about it. You are working through the most horrific time in your life, but you aren't allowed to talk about it. You're walking around with this big scarlet letter on your forehead and everyone around you pretends they don't see it. They know it's there so they avoid looking you in the eye and all you want to do is scream. "Look at me! I'm still here!"
I know some people think that infertility is the 'thing that dare not speak it's name'. But I think a lot of the stigma has been taken away. By people talking about it, writing books and most recently, a new show. NBC started airing Inconceivable this season. I'm reserving judgement since it's only aired twice. I know that things will be exaggerated for a dramatic effect. Point is, it's no longer a secret.
But not so for those walking in my shoes.
My experience took away my ability to be completely secure in myself. I walk around and see the people I love look at me differently. Like I'm somehow less because my body failed me at the time I needed it most.
I know I'm going off on a tangent, but I warned you I was in a pissy mood. A friend of mine had to put on my shoes today and I feel terribly for her. I'd very much like to throw those shoes in molten lava.
I wish that I could make things better for her.
Today just sucks.
Someone who also went through what I did asked what my mc's took from me.
I hadn't really thought of it before then. I had only really thought of what I had gained from it.
A stronger marriage- if we could survive that, we could get through anything.
A feeling of being stronger- because after it was all over, even though I had my moments, I still got up everyday. I still took care of what needed to be taken care of. I didn't give up.
I became more determined- not just to have a baby but in everything. Now when I hear can't, I have to. I've had too much 'can't'. I need some 'can'. (Gee, that sounds kind of bad!)
For what I lost.........
I guess my naivete. Some of my faith in things that true and just.
In a perfect and just world, babies don't die. Babies are born on time and in perfect health. They grow into children in perfect health. They become adults and have children of their own. They bury their parents, not the other way around. In a world where things are as they should be, a parent would never know what it feels like to touch tiny fingers only one time and then have to carry that memory and that memory alone with them, in their unwhole heart for the rest of their lives. A parent would count those fingers and toes and kiss them and have them wiggle back from being tickled. In the world that I wish was true, a parent would never go to the Dr and find that their baby was no longer there, no matter how far along they were.But it isn't that way. Tragedy strikes at the very moment when you should be able to breathe. The moment you should be at your very happiest.There is no way to know why. Different people will offer different opinons as to what they believe but really, we just don't know why. I think that makes it even more horrible. We like the rhyme and reason to life and sometimes it just isn't there. There is no justification, no understanding. It's hard to say that 'it is what it is', but ... well, it is what it is.Losing a child turns your world upside down. Suddenly everything you believed, everything you knew, it's gone. And when suddenly your world stops spinning and tossing you around, you have to try to find your feet again. It's like being spun around so fast and for so long and you're so dizzy then someone says "Ok, walk straight." Because no matter how much we'd like it to be different, people don't want to hear about it. You are working through the most horrific time in your life, but you aren't allowed to talk about it. You're walking around with this big scarlet letter on your forehead and everyone around you pretends they don't see it. They know it's there so they avoid looking you in the eye and all you want to do is scream. "Look at me! I'm still here!"
I know some people think that infertility is the 'thing that dare not speak it's name'. But I think a lot of the stigma has been taken away. By people talking about it, writing books and most recently, a new show. NBC started airing Inconceivable this season. I'm reserving judgement since it's only aired twice. I know that things will be exaggerated for a dramatic effect. Point is, it's no longer a secret.
But not so for those walking in my shoes.
My experience took away my ability to be completely secure in myself. I walk around and see the people I love look at me differently. Like I'm somehow less because my body failed me at the time I needed it most.
I know I'm going off on a tangent, but I warned you I was in a pissy mood. A friend of mine had to put on my shoes today and I feel terribly for her. I'd very much like to throw those shoes in molten lava.
I wish that I could make things better for her.
Today just sucks.
Tagged
Nk got me and I've been putting it off because, well, I don't know. I like to procastinate sometimes.
1. Go into your archives.
2. Find your 23rd post.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the text of the sentence along with these instructions.
5. Tag five people to do the same.
I can't believe I have 23 posts!
Huh. My 23rd post didn't have 5 sentences. It was my "I'm an idiot. How do you link other blogs?" post. And I'm still an idiot because I still can't figure it out. I suck.
As for tagging 5 people. If you're reading this, consider yourself tagged. Or just pretend that you didn't read it. I won't tell.
1. Go into your archives.
2. Find your 23rd post.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the text of the sentence along with these instructions.
5. Tag five people to do the same.
I can't believe I have 23 posts!
Huh. My 23rd post didn't have 5 sentences. It was my "I'm an idiot. How do you link other blogs?" post. And I'm still an idiot because I still can't figure it out. I suck.
As for tagging 5 people. If you're reading this, consider yourself tagged. Or just pretend that you didn't read it. I won't tell.
Tuesday, September 27, 2005
Monsterfied
That's what I'm calling it.
Baby X makes this face fairly often now. He scrunches up his little face and puckers his lips. He likes to throw in some rapid breathing because, well, I think it's supposed to be scary that way. It's funny really. We all do it now. We were at the movies on Sunday and standing in line Baby X started Monsterfying the people behind us. Out of habit, we all started Monstering. We looked like a bunch of idiots but Baby X was amused.
I had physical therapy today and as I sat talking to K and doing my hand exercises, she paused and asked what was wrong with Baby X.
"Oh, nothing. He's just Monstering you because we're not letting him be the Ladies Man he is."
No really.
He did it when we were at Target too. He's recently started waving 'hi' and 'bye' to people. Sometimes before they walk away. We were at checkout when the couple next to us started talking to Baby X. I began to encourage him to wave 'hi'. He ignored me. He smiled a little at them. I tried to get him to wave again.
Apparently this was all too much for him and he Monstered them.
They thought this was just hysterical. They began to Monster back at him. He laughed and started Monstering to everyone who dared to look at him. I think now he does it just to see who will do it back.
Somewhere out there is a young couple happily Monstering their friends.
They, in turn, will Monster their families and friends, and so on.
Baby X: Trendsetter Extraordinaire.
Baby X makes this face fairly often now. He scrunches up his little face and puckers his lips. He likes to throw in some rapid breathing because, well, I think it's supposed to be scary that way. It's funny really. We all do it now. We were at the movies on Sunday and standing in line Baby X started Monsterfying the people behind us. Out of habit, we all started Monstering. We looked like a bunch of idiots but Baby X was amused.
I had physical therapy today and as I sat talking to K and doing my hand exercises, she paused and asked what was wrong with Baby X.
"Oh, nothing. He's just Monstering you because we're not letting him be the Ladies Man he is."
No really.
He did it when we were at Target too. He's recently started waving 'hi' and 'bye' to people. Sometimes before they walk away. We were at checkout when the couple next to us started talking to Baby X. I began to encourage him to wave 'hi'. He ignored me. He smiled a little at them. I tried to get him to wave again.
Apparently this was all too much for him and he Monstered them.
They thought this was just hysterical. They began to Monster back at him. He laughed and started Monstering to everyone who dared to look at him. I think now he does it just to see who will do it back.
Somewhere out there is a young couple happily Monstering their friends.
They, in turn, will Monster their families and friends, and so on.
Baby X: Trendsetter Extraordinaire.
Monday, September 26, 2005
We are cruel parents
Ok, really it's just me. Mr X just shakes his head, sighs and goes along with it. Someday our kids are going to look through their scrapbooks and wonder what we, er, I was smoking.
I found Baby X's halloween costume. I knew it was the one the moment I saw it. I couldn't stop laughing. Even Mr X laughed before shaking his head. I'm waiting anxiously for UPS to deliver it. Every now and then I sneak a peek back at the website and giggle maniacally. Girl X tells her friends "Don't worry, she's not dangerous crazy. Just weird crazy." Little does she know that she once wore a lady bug costume I made myself, I still have the shell and sparkly antenna in my hope chest.
I know this borders on child abuse, but I'm the same person that merrily dressed Baby X in a little blue bunny suit for Easter. It had ears and a fuzzy little tail. I giggled all day.
So, here it is..........
And when that day comes that Baby X is no longer a baby and can demand an answer for my cruelty I will smile and tell him "It was Humpty Dumpty or this:"
I can't tell which is the lesser of two evils. He's just lucky I saw Humpty Dumpty first.
I found Baby X's halloween costume. I knew it was the one the moment I saw it. I couldn't stop laughing. Even Mr X laughed before shaking his head. I'm waiting anxiously for UPS to deliver it. Every now and then I sneak a peek back at the website and giggle maniacally. Girl X tells her friends "Don't worry, she's not dangerous crazy. Just weird crazy." Little does she know that she once wore a lady bug costume I made myself, I still have the shell and sparkly antenna in my hope chest.
I know this borders on child abuse, but I'm the same person that merrily dressed Baby X in a little blue bunny suit for Easter. It had ears and a fuzzy little tail. I giggled all day.
So, here it is..........
And when that day comes that Baby X is no longer a baby and can demand an answer for my cruelty I will smile and tell him "It was Humpty Dumpty or this:"
I can't tell which is the lesser of two evils. He's just lucky I saw Humpty Dumpty first.
Friday, September 23, 2005
My hero, the Drama Queen
Mr X and I took the kidlets to do some mindless shopping. I scored on summer clothes for Baby x for next year. I love clearance. I live for sales. I rarely pay full price for anything because I know eventually it will go on sale. I buy clothes for the kids ahead of season. Yes, I'm one of those people.
We packed up the van with all the goodies and I tossed Mr X the keys. I hate driving when he's in the van. He's a back seat driver. It's hard to resist the urge to smack him with something heavy and handy when he's in the passenger seat.
As he was getting in, I heard a girly gasp. I looked at Girl X but she just shrugged. Baby X was happily munching on his seat belt strap.
Mr X looked sick.
"There's a scratch!"
I got in the van feeling mildly ill. This van is only 6 months old. My first really nice brand new vehicle.
We started to head home. Mr X continued to describe it.
"It's huge, long. There's a big dent too. I wonder how they did that!"
I told him I wasn't going to be able to look at it. I felt really sick now. I wanted to cry picturing the gash in my van he was describing.
We pulled into the driveway and I knew I had to see it.
It took me a few minutes to see what he was talking about. There is a scratch, it's long but thin and not deep. I had to look for it. There are no dents.
Mr X will forever be known now as the Supreme Drama Queen.
We packed up the van with all the goodies and I tossed Mr X the keys. I hate driving when he's in the van. He's a back seat driver. It's hard to resist the urge to smack him with something heavy and handy when he's in the passenger seat.
As he was getting in, I heard a girly gasp. I looked at Girl X but she just shrugged. Baby X was happily munching on his seat belt strap.
Mr X looked sick.
"There's a scratch!"
I got in the van feeling mildly ill. This van is only 6 months old. My first really nice brand new vehicle.
We started to head home. Mr X continued to describe it.
"It's huge, long. There's a big dent too. I wonder how they did that!"
I told him I wasn't going to be able to look at it. I felt really sick now. I wanted to cry picturing the gash in my van he was describing.
We pulled into the driveway and I knew I had to see it.
It took me a few minutes to see what he was talking about. There is a scratch, it's long but thin and not deep. I had to look for it. There are no dents.
Mr X will forever be known now as the Supreme Drama Queen.
Wednesday, September 21, 2005
Denial, denial, denial
Mr X and I have a little game we play. Some would call it passing the buck, although in this case I think it's more like passing the poo. We're generally clean people, but both of us hate cleaning up after Cat X or Dog X leave a biscuit on the carpet, or puke up the sour twizzlers Mr X keeps sneaking the dog. Yes dear, I know that Dog X is not just eating his kibble. Kibble isn't bright blue. Kibble doesn't make him fart the Star Spangled Banner at 3 am.
Mr X has to clean the litter box. I claim reproductive health. Once we're done reproducing, I'll claim it's always been his job and there's no sense changing it. I am a heartless wench.
Cat X is the main culprit. He usually pukes from eating too much dog food or he gets pissed because well..... He's a cat. Does he really need a reason to get pissy? He just is.
The rule here is that whoever spots it first cleans it.
But, you have to basically catch the person finding it to get them to clean it. We've both become very adept at pretending we didn't see it.
"There was a pile of poo the size of Baby X at the bottom of the stairs? Wow! Cat X must have just done it. Tough break."
It becomes a matter of who can't stand it more first.
I know. We're childish. It's disgusting to leave it laying around. It would be a simple matter to clean it up and get over it. But we still play this game. Every. Time.
When I get stuck cleaning it up, I require an entire roll of paper towels, elbow length rubber gloves, tongs, a handkerchief to tie around my nose and mouth, plastic bag, carpet cleaner, rag to scrub the cleaner in and one to dry. As soon as I have that mess knotted up a plastic bag it gets carried to the outdoor trash followed by the gloves, tongs and rags,
Mr X, grabs whatever scrap paper he can find and throws it in whatever trash can is nearby.
I must immediately scrub my hands in hot water with antibacterial soap because that shit is nasty.
Mr X goes back to eating his tacos.
As strange as my little animal poo disposal routine is, I have no issue with Baby X's diapers. We're talking about poo that could double as military grade adhesive. Toxic. The unholiest of all things great and small. Even worse because you know that this smiling little toothy monster created that Weapon of Mass Destruction. Yet, it doesn't bother me. Mr X looks at Baby X's diapers as Olympic achievement. I can hear him in Baby X's room changing said stinky diaper.
"That's my son!" with such pride I think Baby x must have just cured cancer.
No.
He just grunted out what looks like dog food (which is entirely possible since I caught Baby X in the dog's food bowl today).
Mr X has to clean the litter box. I claim reproductive health. Once we're done reproducing, I'll claim it's always been his job and there's no sense changing it. I am a heartless wench.
Cat X is the main culprit. He usually pukes from eating too much dog food or he gets pissed because well..... He's a cat. Does he really need a reason to get pissy? He just is.
The rule here is that whoever spots it first cleans it.
But, you have to basically catch the person finding it to get them to clean it. We've both become very adept at pretending we didn't see it.
"There was a pile of poo the size of Baby X at the bottom of the stairs? Wow! Cat X must have just done it. Tough break."
It becomes a matter of who can't stand it more first.
I know. We're childish. It's disgusting to leave it laying around. It would be a simple matter to clean it up and get over it. But we still play this game. Every. Time.
When I get stuck cleaning it up, I require an entire roll of paper towels, elbow length rubber gloves, tongs, a handkerchief to tie around my nose and mouth, plastic bag, carpet cleaner, rag to scrub the cleaner in and one to dry. As soon as I have that mess knotted up a plastic bag it gets carried to the outdoor trash followed by the gloves, tongs and rags,
Mr X, grabs whatever scrap paper he can find and throws it in whatever trash can is nearby.
I must immediately scrub my hands in hot water with antibacterial soap because that shit is nasty.
Mr X goes back to eating his tacos.
As strange as my little animal poo disposal routine is, I have no issue with Baby X's diapers. We're talking about poo that could double as military grade adhesive. Toxic. The unholiest of all things great and small. Even worse because you know that this smiling little toothy monster created that Weapon of Mass Destruction. Yet, it doesn't bother me. Mr X looks at Baby X's diapers as Olympic achievement. I can hear him in Baby X's room changing said stinky diaper.
"That's my son!" with such pride I think Baby x must have just cured cancer.
No.
He just grunted out what looks like dog food (which is entirely possible since I caught Baby X in the dog's food bowl today).
Monday, September 19, 2005
That wascally wabbit.................
Remember when I mentioned that we weren't the nicest kids in the neighborhood? Well, we weren't always the smartest either.
We preferred to confine our moments of stupidity to the times we were left alone with our grandmother. She was a sweet woman but she would freak out over the slightest cough with such superb skill that it became a contest to see who could make her screech first, loudest, or longest. We knew who won by who ended up in the emergency room.
My favorite was the day she gave us mini bean bags. Brother X told Sister X that he saw a guy on tv stick something in his ear and it came out the other side. Sister X said that was impossible. Brother X called her a wuss and bet her that he could shove a bean in his ear and make it come out the other side. Sister X told him to go ahead and just to prove how stupid he was, she'd do it too.
My brother managed to get his in pretty far. My sister was less enthusiastic but still required the skill of our favorite ER Dr.
As my grandmother dragged us out of the ER, muttering about palpatations, my sister asked my brother who he saw on tv pull such a stunt.
"Bugs Bunny"
My sister probably would have beat him to death had my grandmother not threatened to have the Dr stitch her hands to her head.
We preferred to confine our moments of stupidity to the times we were left alone with our grandmother. She was a sweet woman but she would freak out over the slightest cough with such superb skill that it became a contest to see who could make her screech first, loudest, or longest. We knew who won by who ended up in the emergency room.
My favorite was the day she gave us mini bean bags. Brother X told Sister X that he saw a guy on tv stick something in his ear and it came out the other side. Sister X said that was impossible. Brother X called her a wuss and bet her that he could shove a bean in his ear and make it come out the other side. Sister X told him to go ahead and just to prove how stupid he was, she'd do it too.
My brother managed to get his in pretty far. My sister was less enthusiastic but still required the skill of our favorite ER Dr.
As my grandmother dragged us out of the ER, muttering about palpatations, my sister asked my brother who he saw on tv pull such a stunt.
"Bugs Bunny"
My sister probably would have beat him to death had my grandmother not threatened to have the Dr stitch her hands to her head.
Friday, September 16, 2005
Did you hear that?
That was the sound of Mr X dropping a pile of joint compound on the radio and sharing a few new curse words.
Mr X is a pretty handy guy. Right now he's trying to finish off our downstairs. He did the living room and guest room almost 2 years ago. All that's left is the bathroom and the laundry room.
I love a guy that can build and fix and create like that. I love it even more because with Mr X I know something will happen that will cause him to yell and then scramble to try to recover.
Example- Mr X decided we needed another storage closet. There was all this unused space under the stairs but it was blocked off by pesky walls. Mr X decides it would be very simple to just cut into it, build a small door and voila..... A closet.
5 minutes into the project Girl X, being 4 and a tattle tale at the time, came running upstairs panting, eyes wild and flailing her little arms excitedly.
"Mom! Daddy, broke the wall!"
Mr X hadn't been paying attention and cut into the wrong spot. He did fix it and we do have a nice little storage closet, but it's moments like that that get me giggly for his next home improvement project.
This one involves water. Pipes. So much potential for fun.
Too bad I wasn't home when it happened.
The first night he started working I had to take Girl X to cheerleading practice. When we came home there were towels all over my front porch. I asked Girl X to carry some of them into the laundry room while I got Baby X out. She came running back out to tell me that the house smelled 'funny'.
I had her wait with Baby X while I went in to check it out.
Mr X wasn't home but the kid was fooling. It smelled like someone had dumped rubbing alcohol, rubber cement and paint thinner all over my house. I started walking upstairs and noticed more wet towels.
The only note in the house was very simple:
"I TURNED THE WATER OFF"
Oh, how I wish I had been there with my camera for this one.
Mr X had decided that to continue working without further disruption to our ability to bathe, he would extend the water pipes and create his own shut off. Too bad he didn't turn the water off before he cut into the pipe.
Is it so wrong that I still giggle when I think of it?
Since he can only work on this during nights and weekends when we aren't dragging him all over the place, progress is slow. He has been hanging some drywall but can't do much more until he has someone to help him carry in the jacuzzi tub.
I should have months of fun with this.
Mr X is a pretty handy guy. Right now he's trying to finish off our downstairs. He did the living room and guest room almost 2 years ago. All that's left is the bathroom and the laundry room.
I love a guy that can build and fix and create like that. I love it even more because with Mr X I know something will happen that will cause him to yell and then scramble to try to recover.
Example- Mr X decided we needed another storage closet. There was all this unused space under the stairs but it was blocked off by pesky walls. Mr X decides it would be very simple to just cut into it, build a small door and voila..... A closet.
5 minutes into the project Girl X, being 4 and a tattle tale at the time, came running upstairs panting, eyes wild and flailing her little arms excitedly.
"Mom! Daddy, broke the wall!"
Mr X hadn't been paying attention and cut into the wrong spot. He did fix it and we do have a nice little storage closet, but it's moments like that that get me giggly for his next home improvement project.
This one involves water. Pipes. So much potential for fun.
Too bad I wasn't home when it happened.
The first night he started working I had to take Girl X to cheerleading practice. When we came home there were towels all over my front porch. I asked Girl X to carry some of them into the laundry room while I got Baby X out. She came running back out to tell me that the house smelled 'funny'.
I had her wait with Baby X while I went in to check it out.
Mr X wasn't home but the kid was fooling. It smelled like someone had dumped rubbing alcohol, rubber cement and paint thinner all over my house. I started walking upstairs and noticed more wet towels.
The only note in the house was very simple:
"I TURNED THE WATER OFF"
Oh, how I wish I had been there with my camera for this one.
Mr X had decided that to continue working without further disruption to our ability to bathe, he would extend the water pipes and create his own shut off. Too bad he didn't turn the water off before he cut into the pipe.
Is it so wrong that I still giggle when I think of it?
Since he can only work on this during nights and weekends when we aren't dragging him all over the place, progress is slow. He has been hanging some drywall but can't do much more until he has someone to help him carry in the jacuzzi tub.
I should have months of fun with this.
Wednesday, September 14, 2005
By the way..........
If anyone could tell me how to add links to other sites, I'd really appreciate it! I tried to follow Blogger's instructions, but it didn't work!
Moments I wish I could clone myself
Any day this week (and last week for that matter) would have been a good day to have more than one of me. Far too much to do! Between physical therapy (me), Girl X's urology appt, her cheerleading pictures and practice, Dr's (Baby x), Dr's (me this time), Girl X's football game, and day to day errands, I haven't been able to get anything done at home. I know there is a post somewhere in my head, but I can't think clearly enough to get it out.
Baby X is cutting molars. I miss sleep. I guess sleep is the price we pay for his cheerfulness during the day.
Baby X is cutting molars. I miss sleep. I guess sleep is the price we pay for his cheerfulness during the day.
Monday, September 05, 2005
Rehashing a Black Year
We had a barbecue this weekend for friends and family. Towards the end of the night I was sitting with my neighbor, SIL, and a friend just talking about random things when the conversation got turned to what I now refer to as my Black Year. I'm not big on sharing something so personal when I'm face to face with people but I've been trying to get better about it. I've come to realize that I need to speak up when these things happen or I end up where I was during my Black Year. Plus, I think that the more I talk about it, the easier it gets for me to deal with it and to handle the guilt I now feel. So now you, and by you I mean those random people reading this blog, are going to be a sounding board for me.
It started when Mr X and I decided to expand our happy little family. I was excited at the thought of 2 more little feet running through the house. As luck would have it, I got pregnant on the first try. We were so excited we couldn't contain ourselves and called everyone we ever met. I was due in early January. We happily began planning and even went so far as to buy the crib and dresser/ changing table. Then the unthinkable happened. I was 7 weeks along when I lost our baby. I was crushed, but I am (90%) of the time an optimist. I cried but I decided to brush it off.
I did feel a bit more desperate to get pregnant again. I could just feel that little baby, just out of my reach and I had no patience to wait.
This time it took 2 tries. We told our parents and I told a few friends, but no one else. I did not want to have to go back and tell everyone if something went wrong like last time. At the same time I was confident that it would be ok because lightening doesn't strike twice. Right?
Wrong.
I was 12 weeks when we went to hear the baby's heartbeat. There was nothing there. I'll never forget the sound of that Doppler echoing so emptily in the exam room. The baby had died 3 weeks before. I miscarried at 13 weeks.
I was destroyed.
I put on a happy face during the day for Mr X, Girl X, and everyone else. But at night, I let go. Everyone else would be asleep and I'd be in the nursery crying my heart out on the floor. Or if it was too much during the day, in the bathroom.
During the time that I was miscarrying, my bil and sil came over. They didn't know what we were going through as they didn't know that I had been pregnant again. I like to think if they had they wouldn't have chosen that weekend to tell us that she was pregnant again. I remember getting out a weak 'congratulations'. In my head all I could think was that she had my baby. God was punishing me by taking my baby and giving it to someone I could barely tolerate. I avoided her a lot for the next 8 months. I avoided a lot of things during that time.
This time getting pregnant was taking longer and I was falling apart every month. Looking back, I know I should have been seeing a therapist. At the time, I just functioned as well as I could.
Mr X went to get a physical. We were preparing to have fertility testing as we knew that would be the next step. Instead we got bitch-slapped.
We found out that Mr X had Hepatitis B. He got it as a child and never knew. If I was on shaky ground before, now I was working in a constant earthquake. Mr X had to get a biopsy and medication. We had a lot to work out.
I got pregnant again a few months later. The day after I took the test, lightening struck a 3rd time.
When Girl X would go to the school in the morning, I would have a good cry and scream, then go on about my day. I started to feel numb.
I think Mr X started to get an idea that all was not well in my world. We went on vacation. I was not entirely myself, but as the trip wore on, I let myself forget.
We had always said that we wouldn't want a Christmas baby. By this time though, I couldn't have gone a month without trying. Now, that baby just out of my reach was my tormenter. I could smell that sweet baby scent in my sleep.
When I took a pregnancy test the next month, I thought it would be negative. When it came back positive I started crying. I was terrified. I took a deep breath and went on.
I was in a constant state of panic during that first trimester. I ran to the bathroom every time I felt the slightest pain. My Dr let me have an ultrasound early and seeing the heartbeat helped immensely. 2 days later, I was back to panicking. At 12 weeks, we went to hear the heartbeat.
Silence. I sucked in my breath.
And then there it was. Steady and sweet.
I can't say that the rest of my pregnancy was easy. It was text book perfect, but my anxiety made it difficult to enjoy. I had spotting off and on during the early part of my 2nd trimester and that sent me into a bit of a tailspin. I worried between every Dr's visit. I worried when I couldn't feel the baby move. I worried during labor. I worried when he was finally here, but he wasn't crying. In fact, he never really cried. Turns out, he's just not much of a crier. He's the happiest baby I've ever seen.
Those 'what if's' followed me every day. Every minute. I blamed myself and my body for what had happened. I had convinced myself that I had done something horrible to deserve it. I wondered if I could continue trying without going insane. Sometimes they are still there.
Remember when I said we hadn't wanted a Christmas baby?
My due date was 12/25/05.
How's that for fate?
It started when Mr X and I decided to expand our happy little family. I was excited at the thought of 2 more little feet running through the house. As luck would have it, I got pregnant on the first try. We were so excited we couldn't contain ourselves and called everyone we ever met. I was due in early January. We happily began planning and even went so far as to buy the crib and dresser/ changing table. Then the unthinkable happened. I was 7 weeks along when I lost our baby. I was crushed, but I am (90%) of the time an optimist. I cried but I decided to brush it off.
I did feel a bit more desperate to get pregnant again. I could just feel that little baby, just out of my reach and I had no patience to wait.
This time it took 2 tries. We told our parents and I told a few friends, but no one else. I did not want to have to go back and tell everyone if something went wrong like last time. At the same time I was confident that it would be ok because lightening doesn't strike twice. Right?
Wrong.
I was 12 weeks when we went to hear the baby's heartbeat. There was nothing there. I'll never forget the sound of that Doppler echoing so emptily in the exam room. The baby had died 3 weeks before. I miscarried at 13 weeks.
I was destroyed.
I put on a happy face during the day for Mr X, Girl X, and everyone else. But at night, I let go. Everyone else would be asleep and I'd be in the nursery crying my heart out on the floor. Or if it was too much during the day, in the bathroom.
During the time that I was miscarrying, my bil and sil came over. They didn't know what we were going through as they didn't know that I had been pregnant again. I like to think if they had they wouldn't have chosen that weekend to tell us that she was pregnant again. I remember getting out a weak 'congratulations'. In my head all I could think was that she had my baby. God was punishing me by taking my baby and giving it to someone I could barely tolerate. I avoided her a lot for the next 8 months. I avoided a lot of things during that time.
This time getting pregnant was taking longer and I was falling apart every month. Looking back, I know I should have been seeing a therapist. At the time, I just functioned as well as I could.
Mr X went to get a physical. We were preparing to have fertility testing as we knew that would be the next step. Instead we got bitch-slapped.
We found out that Mr X had Hepatitis B. He got it as a child and never knew. If I was on shaky ground before, now I was working in a constant earthquake. Mr X had to get a biopsy and medication. We had a lot to work out.
I got pregnant again a few months later. The day after I took the test, lightening struck a 3rd time.
When Girl X would go to the school in the morning, I would have a good cry and scream, then go on about my day. I started to feel numb.
I think Mr X started to get an idea that all was not well in my world. We went on vacation. I was not entirely myself, but as the trip wore on, I let myself forget.
We had always said that we wouldn't want a Christmas baby. By this time though, I couldn't have gone a month without trying. Now, that baby just out of my reach was my tormenter. I could smell that sweet baby scent in my sleep.
When I took a pregnancy test the next month, I thought it would be negative. When it came back positive I started crying. I was terrified. I took a deep breath and went on.
I was in a constant state of panic during that first trimester. I ran to the bathroom every time I felt the slightest pain. My Dr let me have an ultrasound early and seeing the heartbeat helped immensely. 2 days later, I was back to panicking. At 12 weeks, we went to hear the heartbeat.
Silence. I sucked in my breath.
And then there it was. Steady and sweet.
I can't say that the rest of my pregnancy was easy. It was text book perfect, but my anxiety made it difficult to enjoy. I had spotting off and on during the early part of my 2nd trimester and that sent me into a bit of a tailspin. I worried between every Dr's visit. I worried when I couldn't feel the baby move. I worried during labor. I worried when he was finally here, but he wasn't crying. In fact, he never really cried. Turns out, he's just not much of a crier. He's the happiest baby I've ever seen.
Those 'what if's' followed me every day. Every minute. I blamed myself and my body for what had happened. I had convinced myself that I had done something horrible to deserve it. I wondered if I could continue trying without going insane. Sometimes they are still there.
Remember when I said we hadn't wanted a Christmas baby?
My due date was 12/25/05.
How's that for fate?
Friday, September 02, 2005
We lost power Sunday and it killed the computer. So much for surge protection.
It did make me realize how much I depend on my computer for adult contact during the day.
Don't get me wrong, I love being a stay at home mom, but there are only so many hours in the day an adult with more thana few working brian cells can sing along to the wiggles, play polly pockets and baby babble before going more than slightly mad. It doesn't help that Mr X worked late every night this past week. I realized I was in trouble when I started calling my sister every day just to hear an adult voice. Writing 'Help Me' in large purple chalk letters on the sidewalk was probably a little strange for my neighbors, but this is me. They should be used to ' a little strange' by now.
Mr X asked me why I was tapping out 'sos' on the counter the other night.
And now I'm going to be braver than I normally am and post my new favorite picture. I'm not sure how long it will stay up though.......... I don't know why it posted up there but oh well.........
It did make me realize how much I depend on my computer for adult contact during the day.
Don't get me wrong, I love being a stay at home mom, but there are only so many hours in the day an adult with more thana few working brian cells can sing along to the wiggles, play polly pockets and baby babble before going more than slightly mad. It doesn't help that Mr X worked late every night this past week. I realized I was in trouble when I started calling my sister every day just to hear an adult voice. Writing 'Help Me' in large purple chalk letters on the sidewalk was probably a little strange for my neighbors, but this is me. They should be used to ' a little strange' by now.
Mr X asked me why I was tapping out 'sos' on the counter the other night.
And now I'm going to be braver than I normally am and post my new favorite picture. I'm not sure how long it will stay up though.......... I don't know why it posted up there but oh well.........
Friday, August 26, 2005
Baby X- 1, Cat- 0
I was doing laundry and I had Baby X sitting in the laundry basket. He was playing patiently while I finished up. Our Cat was munching his Meow mix on top of the laundry table happily swishing his tail over the edge. We put his bowl up there so he'd be safe from the dog while eating. Dog never wants to hurt the cat, he just thinks it's fun to sneak up on him and watch him jump 5 feet.
Swish, swish went his tail. Just enough to cath baby X's eye. I saw my little angel get a wicked little grin and hunker down. He looked a like cat stalking it's prey.
"Uh-oh Cat. Better move."
Cat looks at me with his bored 'I don't have time to speak to the likes of you' look.
Too late.
Yank.
'RRREEEEOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWRRRRRRRRRRRR!'
Crash!
Followed by my little angels hysterical laughing.
I don't think they're friends anymore.
Swish, swish went his tail. Just enough to cath baby X's eye. I saw my little angel get a wicked little grin and hunker down. He looked a like cat stalking it's prey.
"Uh-oh Cat. Better move."
Cat looks at me with his bored 'I don't have time to speak to the likes of you' look.
Too late.
Yank.
'RRREEEEOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWRRRRRRRRRRRR!'
Crash!
Followed by my little angels hysterical laughing.
I don't think they're friends anymore.
Monday, August 22, 2005
Temporary Hiatus
Did something funky to my arm. One-handed typing sucks. Be back when arm is better.
Friday, August 19, 2005
The great Mustard vs Ketchup battle of 1980-something
I'll admit it right up front. My siblings and I weren't the nice neighborhood kids. We were beasts unleashed from hell to wreak havoc on the neighborhood.
Have you ever seen that show Malcolm in the Middle? The writers must have been neighbors of ours. Neighbors who are being kind.
My dad and stepmom trusted alone in the house by the time I was 8 and the oldest of us was 14. They should have known better.
They loved to collect antiques. They had lots of antique tools hanging on the walls in the kitchen. Since this is where most food fights take place, it was probably not the most brilliant of moves.
One day my brothers got into an argument over which could shoot further from a bottle, ketchup or mustard. The only fair way to settle this was to try it out. We propped the bottles up a bit on the table with some of the fine irish linen my stepmom kept in one of the drawers. Then we broke out the measuring tape, and started firing away. They went pretty far, but let's face it, nothing works better than the packets. Especially when you pile about 7-10 of those suckers and hit them with a hammer.
I have no idea which went further. There were so many condiments flying around the kitchen no one could really tell. I can tell you 3 things.
*Relish doesn't go very far. Too heavy.
*Owners of neighborhood delis don't like it when you come in and take all of their condiment packets for your experiments.
and finally,
*Mustard and ketchup stains white walls and wooden antiques equally well.
Have you ever seen that show Malcolm in the Middle? The writers must have been neighbors of ours. Neighbors who are being kind.
My dad and stepmom trusted alone in the house by the time I was 8 and the oldest of us was 14. They should have known better.
They loved to collect antiques. They had lots of antique tools hanging on the walls in the kitchen. Since this is where most food fights take place, it was probably not the most brilliant of moves.
One day my brothers got into an argument over which could shoot further from a bottle, ketchup or mustard. The only fair way to settle this was to try it out. We propped the bottles up a bit on the table with some of the fine irish linen my stepmom kept in one of the drawers. Then we broke out the measuring tape, and started firing away. They went pretty far, but let's face it, nothing works better than the packets. Especially when you pile about 7-10 of those suckers and hit them with a hammer.
I have no idea which went further. There were so many condiments flying around the kitchen no one could really tell. I can tell you 3 things.
*Relish doesn't go very far. Too heavy.
*Owners of neighborhood delis don't like it when you come in and take all of their condiment packets for your experiments.
and finally,
*Mustard and ketchup stains white walls and wooden antiques equally well.
As if they needed further proof that we're crazy.........
This requires a bit of explanation so please bear with me.
Mr X has been growing hair these past few years where before, there wasn't any. Ex: the middle of his forhead. There is this random lone hair that keeps returning no matter how many times I pluck it while he's sleeping. Ok, go ahead and call me mean. I know I am. While I'm at it, I'll admit that I pluck chest hairs to get him to stop snoring. He knows it. It never fully wakes him, just makes him roll over. It works. Yes. I am very mean. That is a story for another day.
Today, it's all about the random hair.
Baby X has been getting those random hairs. No, I don't pluck them. He, like many newborns, had the furriest of elfin ears I'd ever seen. Thick black hair on the top of his ears. Eventually, it fell out.
Then there was the eyebrow. It was pale so really hard to see, but there it was. This one random hair that stuck straight out from the others. It was like a little exclamation point, "here I am! I'm adorable! Love me! Feed me!"
I loved that little hair. I couldn't bring myself to cut it even though I knew I should. It wasn't in his eye, yet, but it was pretty long.
For some reason, every time I'd pick up the scissors to do it, I couldn't. Baby X would look at me with those big blue eyes and smile and I had to put the scissors down.
The other night I noticed it was getting in his eye. Unfortunately, I couldn't put it off anymore. Mr X held his hands and I cut the little exclamation point.
Now the part where we're nuts..................
It's now taped into his baby book.
Someday he is going to open that book and wonder what we were thinking.
Mr X has been growing hair these past few years where before, there wasn't any. Ex: the middle of his forhead. There is this random lone hair that keeps returning no matter how many times I pluck it while he's sleeping. Ok, go ahead and call me mean. I know I am. While I'm at it, I'll admit that I pluck chest hairs to get him to stop snoring. He knows it. It never fully wakes him, just makes him roll over. It works. Yes. I am very mean. That is a story for another day.
Today, it's all about the random hair.
Baby X has been getting those random hairs. No, I don't pluck them. He, like many newborns, had the furriest of elfin ears I'd ever seen. Thick black hair on the top of his ears. Eventually, it fell out.
Then there was the eyebrow. It was pale so really hard to see, but there it was. This one random hair that stuck straight out from the others. It was like a little exclamation point, "here I am! I'm adorable! Love me! Feed me!"
I loved that little hair. I couldn't bring myself to cut it even though I knew I should. It wasn't in his eye, yet, but it was pretty long.
For some reason, every time I'd pick up the scissors to do it, I couldn't. Baby X would look at me with those big blue eyes and smile and I had to put the scissors down.
The other night I noticed it was getting in his eye. Unfortunately, I couldn't put it off anymore. Mr X held his hands and I cut the little exclamation point.
Now the part where we're nuts..................
It's now taped into his baby book.
Someday he is going to open that book and wonder what we were thinking.
Thursday, August 18, 2005
....not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse
One of the most disgusting things about cat ownership is the occasional 'present' they leave you.
My old cat, Oscar, used to bring me field mice and leave them on my kitchen chair. There was also the one that he didn't kill right away. I came home from work one night to find him torturing the poor thing in my bath tub. It was 1 am and I had to lock Oscar in a room while I tried to catch this mouse with a pot and lid.
Today my anti-social, potty trained masochist cat brought me a mouse. Or at least what was left of it. I think it was a mouse. It was pretty nasty and rather hard to tell.
I need to find a way to stop him from doing this again. I'm not a terribly squeamish person, but ew. Ew. That's an image that is going to stay with me for way too long and will probably pop back up when we have dinner at my MIL's this weekend.
Ew.
My old cat, Oscar, used to bring me field mice and leave them on my kitchen chair. There was also the one that he didn't kill right away. I came home from work one night to find him torturing the poor thing in my bath tub. It was 1 am and I had to lock Oscar in a room while I tried to catch this mouse with a pot and lid.
Today my anti-social, potty trained masochist cat brought me a mouse. Or at least what was left of it. I think it was a mouse. It was pretty nasty and rather hard to tell.
I need to find a way to stop him from doing this again. I'm not a terribly squeamish person, but ew. Ew. That's an image that is going to stay with me for way too long and will probably pop back up when we have dinner at my MIL's this weekend.
Ew.
Wednesday, August 17, 2005
When does a practical joke go to far?
I was reading another blog tonight, one that I recently found and really like. Funny guy. He was talking about some pranks he'd pulled years before. It made me think..... Is it possible to go to far with a prank?
Mr X and I are always joking around. I love messing with his head and he's a good sport about it. I've had our daughter help me out a few times. So far our favorite was last year. It took a bit of time, but the payoff was well worth it.
While he was at work, I pulled out all of his underwear and carefully sewed the seams together. Then I folded them back up and put them away.
I'm a light sleeper so I always wake up when he gets up for work. I'll never forget his reaction when, at 4:30 that morning, he tried to pull out a pair. He kept pulling until they were all out. Then he picked up one and started shaking it wildly. I pretended to be asleep as he shook it and mumbled. He finally got one of them seperate. Or so he thought. I lost it when he put them on and started to walk to the kitchen for his coffee; a trail of underwear following behind him.
He did get me back. We had a lone rat in our garage. Naturally, it was enough to ensure that I wouldn't be going anywhere near the garage while he dealt with the thing. 20 minutes later he came running in with a bloody finger. When I asked what happened, he told me that rat bit him and then got away. As I'm picturing rabies shots and wondering if it'd be possible to find the rodent, he was almost giddy watching me panic.
That one might have been almost too far, but here we take what every opportunity to poke fun at each other.
Mr X and I are always joking around. I love messing with his head and he's a good sport about it. I've had our daughter help me out a few times. So far our favorite was last year. It took a bit of time, but the payoff was well worth it.
While he was at work, I pulled out all of his underwear and carefully sewed the seams together. Then I folded them back up and put them away.
I'm a light sleeper so I always wake up when he gets up for work. I'll never forget his reaction when, at 4:30 that morning, he tried to pull out a pair. He kept pulling until they were all out. Then he picked up one and started shaking it wildly. I pretended to be asleep as he shook it and mumbled. He finally got one of them seperate. Or so he thought. I lost it when he put them on and started to walk to the kitchen for his coffee; a trail of underwear following behind him.
He did get me back. We had a lone rat in our garage. Naturally, it was enough to ensure that I wouldn't be going anywhere near the garage while he dealt with the thing. 20 minutes later he came running in with a bloody finger. When I asked what happened, he told me that rat bit him and then got away. As I'm picturing rabies shots and wondering if it'd be possible to find the rodent, he was almost giddy watching me panic.
That one might have been almost too far, but here we take what every opportunity to poke fun at each other.
Tuesday, August 16, 2005
It's the Baracuda himself
I wanted a picture, he wanted my camera. We compromised. Er..... I compromised. I got a close-up and he got the strap.
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