Thursday, February 26, 2009
I had to wake them up an hour early so we could get to the doctor on time because I wanted a first AM appointment so we could avoid all the sickos. When we got home, Oscar only napped for one hour (usually he naps for 2-3 hours), so you can add exhaustion to my already cranky toddler (he got his DTap booster, ouch).
While I was fixing dinner for some friends who were coming by to give me some adult conversation, Oscar ate and ink pad, pooped three times in two hour, and dumped his juice all over the floor and smeared it around. Let me say that again: he ate an ink pad, pooped three times and gave my floor a juice bath. He was in his glory. I mean, any one of those things is standard Oscar behavior on any day of the week, but all three? And pooping three times in two hours? Really? Three times? What am I feeding this kind? Horse laxatives?
Then, during dinner with, he proceeded to throw all his food on the floor, kick the underside of the dinner table and scream, "all done! all done! all done!" for the entire meal. Also, Miles was wailing the WHOLE TIME.
Pam offered to hold Miles while I put Oscar down for bed. Well Miles cried almost the entire time I was putting Oscar down. And Oscar, who hasn't cried at bed time in, oh, eight months, decided to let it rip. Screaming. I finally calmed him around the time Miles cooled his jets.
During all of this, my brother's dog Sophie, who is on cortisone for a slipped disc in her neck (I know, WTF?), peed on the floor. My friend Pam cleaned it up, bless her, because I'd had a kid tied to my boob for 45 minutes.
When Pam and her husband and son left, I prepared to go upstairs only to find Sophie had peed one the floor. Again. So I cleaned that up, went upstairs and got Miles down. I headed down stairs to watch some Idol (don't judge) and on my way downstairs, I discovered the my dog Nebo had vomited on the stairs so profusely (although completely silently) that it dripped down FIVE steps. Five, FIVE STEPS of DOG VOMIT.
So, I went downstairs to get some towels to clean up the vomit and I called all the dogs to go out one last time before bed. And Sophie cowered in the corner which only means one thing: she peed on the floor AGAIN. For those of you keeping count, this is the third time she peed on the floor. I'm not lying. I looked around and found the pee and it was this tiny spot. She didn't even really have to go. She just peed on my floor for spit. For spite, I tell you.
I think dogs speak toddler, or toddlers speak dog because they are so ganging up on me. And did I mention that Nelson is in California and missed this lovely poop/pee/vomit filled day? Oh yes he is. And I hate him a little bit for it.
And, not only did she send me that super cute quilt she also sent me some Color Catcher for when I wash it, and some popcorn (which I've already eaten most of.)
Thanks so much for my beautiful/delicious/color protecting prize, Jen! It's even better in person.
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Holy crap am I tired. Why oh why did Miles pick this week, the week his dad is in California all week, to start waking twice a night again? Why, Miles, why?
Last night, Danny's Mommy witnessed Oscar running amok and attempting to drink Jet Dry, the only cleaning product I don't keep in my basement after this incident. Totally made me look like a responsible child care option, sigh. On the upside, Jet Dry is not toxic. Also, today I've noticed that Oscar is completely residue free.
I am so freaking tired.
Oscar has taken to asking for Elmo, as in Sesame Street. But he absolutely only asks for Elmo when Sesame Street is not on, so he basically never gets to watch it. You can imagine how well that goes over.
Miles has awful cradle cap (or cradle crap as I affectionately refer to it) and it's driving me nuts. Oscar didn't have cradle crap. Then again, he didn't have hair either, so go figure.
My mom bought Oscar a web cam for his birthday eight months ago and has only just now signed up for Skype. I just wanted to remind you all how crazy she is, since I haven't done a crazy mom post in a while.
I am so ready for spring.
Oscar and Danny are super into choo-choos right now. I have exactly two books with trains in them and no train toys. I'm way behind the curve on this one.
As I type this, Danny and Miles are napping peacefully. Oscar is wrecking the joint.
Oscar is all about telling me when he has a poo-poo or pee-pee diaper. "Pee-pee diaper?" or "Poo-poo diaper?" he'll say, grabbing his crotch. I have a doctor's appointment for both boys tomorrow and I just know the pediatrician is going to tell me he's showing signs he's ready to start potty training. But you know what? I'm not ready to start potty training. These boys have me maxed out and I don't think I can manage even one more thing with them right now.
Speaking of poo-poo diapers, Oscar just pooped. I wonder how long until he tells me.
At what point to toddlers stop eating crayons? Because Oscar loves coloring but he also loves to eat crayons and I can't really have the eating of crayons.
My jeans are getting looser, yay!
Sunday, February 22, 2009
Last weekend, when we discovered Miles' abscess, we decided that rather than haul two kids to the Emergency Room, I'd take Miles and Nelson would stay home with Oscar. My cell phone was low on battery so I told Nelson I'd only call him if it was something serious.
Obviously, when we were told to head to Children's Hospital, I called Nelson. "It's an abscess and we have to go to Children's. I'll call after we see the doctor," I told him. "I'll come, we'll meet you there," he said. But I told him, no, to stay home with Oscar.
It took Miles and I around 45 minutes to get to Children's, thanks to my nerves and my wonky GPS. I was getting increasingly nervous. What was wrong with my baby? Where the hell was the hospital? And once I found the hospital, where the heck was parking? Why was this the worst parking garage ever? Why were there no spaces? My baby is crying! My baby is sick! AHHHHH!
So, I parked in a spot reserved for valet and went in. We got through registration pretty quickly, then sat and waited for triage. I nursed Miles and looked around the waiting room. A huge waiting room filled with sick kids and crying babies and stressed parents. I still had no idea what was wrong with Miles.
We got into triage after about 20 minutes and then went back out into the waiting room and nursed him some more. I was starving and dying of thirst - I'd been at a hospital or trying to get to one for nearly four hours, and breast feeding dehydrates the crap out of you. I was so worried about my baby. I just kept my eyes on him so I didn't have to see any of the other sick children and willed him to be well.
For some reason, I looked up, toward the door and saw a lovely sight. My boys, Nelson and Oscar, came strolling into the ER, all smiles. "Mom!" Oscar called. He brought snacks and drinks and a healthy dose of love and support.
"It was all Oscar's idea. He didn't like the idea of you two waiting here alone," Nelson said.
"No, it was actually my idea. We left right after you called. I couldn't let you sit here alone. I knew you needed me," Nelson said.
Oh my god he was so right. I love my husband.
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
So, here's me showing my folks how to run operations in a cockpit. I'm actually checking the altitude gage here. We're flying at about four feet.
In this shot I'm helping my dad build a model airplane. Doesn't he look board? Parents today, sheesh.
Okay, here I am explaining the Bernoulli Effect to Daddy, and as you can see he's really getting it. It really doesn't take much entertain adults, does it?
My Daddy really wanted to sit in the cockpit of a plane, so I humored him. But I wasn't happy about it.
Lastly, here's a photo of me dressed up like a real aviator. Can you believe my parents did this to me? [Ed. Note: I fully admit to dressing my son in aviator attire and I'm not apologizing for it. He looked freaking cute!] I was pretty annoyed, but it's going to be great therapy fodder in 20 years.
The only thing I don't have a photo of is Mommy chasing me through the museum wearing the new guy in a Snugly while Daddy was reading the captions on some old timey photographs and pretending not to know us. It was like a circus show, and by like a circus show I mean totally awesome and hilarious. But for some reason, Mommy didn't think so and the whole way home she kept saying something about getting me a leash. I'm not quite sure what a leash is, but as long as I can use to spill gallons of water everywhere and for the general destruction of my home, I'm sure I'll love it.
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Monday, February 9, 2009
Since Miles was born, okay since Oscar was born, I've been in a bit of a funk appearance-wise. I used to get up and put on nice clothes and fix my hair and do my make up and put on fabulous shoes and WEAR EARRINGS for crying out loud for work every day. And I looked nice and I liked it.
Well, life as a SAHM and a day mother doesn't really require nice clothes or fancy shoes. In fact, it kind of requires the opposite - machine washable clothes and comfortable shoes. There's nothing wrong with all that, but I just haven't felt like myself. I look in the mirror and see a poorly dress and even more poorly groomed woman who's barely got it together and that does not feel so great. And don't even get me started on the baby weight.
So, I bought some new clothes, got a hair cut and decided that from now on I'm going to put myself together in the mornings. I'm going to make an effort. Sure I won't be wearing expensive clothes or fancy shoes, but I can wear things that look nice and are unstained and I can cover the mammoth circles under my eyes. I started doing this on Friday and already I feel like a new person. I feel energized and refreshed. It's wonderful.
I stared out this morning with a new blouse and earrings and hidden eye circles and my fresh do feeling fabulous. I was more productive in the morning, I was more relaxed.
I was getting my crew ready to go out for the morning to walk my charge Nora to school a block away. It was going well. She, Oscar, and Miles were all suited up. I had just strapped Miles into the front carrier, facing me, when it happened.
The Spit Up of All Spit Ups.
About three or four ounces pour out of him silently, all over his suit, all over my blouse, and down into my cleavage, leaving a pool of hot, sour-smelling breast milk in my bra. I went from fabulous to funky in about half a second.
I wiped us both down, but in the interest of Nora not being late for school we dashed out wet and smelly. At least it hadn't soak through Miles' suit.
So, as I type this, I sit here with no earrings in an old maternity top, feeling defeated and though somewhat assured that the day can only get better.
And, welcome back, Danny! We missed you.
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
I spoke with the nurse on call and she said I should bring him in. She wasn't overly concerned, nor was I, but she though he was a bit warm and the docs should have a look see.
So, I completely rearranged my day, got someone to sit for Oscar, and took Miles in that afternoon. Now, by the time I took him in, he was no longer warm but I decided I wanted him looked at anyways, just in case.
We arrive at the appointment 30 minutes late since there were no less than three different road construction projects going on on my route to the hospital. I mean, I'm not complaining about road construction projects, particularly because my husband is a pavement engineer and his job depends on roads and their needing to be fixed, but three separate projects on the 17 mile stretch of road that takes me to my pediatrician seems a bit excessive.
Anyways, we get there and we got put into the sick pool since we missed our appointment. And guess who was seeing the sick patients yesterday. The Asshole, with a capital A.
It went like this:
In bustles the Asshole.
Asshole: So, what's going on with Miles today?
Jenni: Well, he had a little fever this morning so I called-
A: What was his fever?
A: And it was 100.3 rectally?
J: Yes, rectally.
A: 100.3 is not a fever. 100.4 is a fever [She seriously said this.]
J: Okay, but I called in and-
A: If he had a fever he'd have to go to the ER. For 100.4 he'd go to the ER.
J: Okay, but-
A: But I'm not going to send you there for 100.3. 100.3 is not a fever.
J: Right, but when I called-
A: I mean, if it's 100.4 like two or three times in a row when you check it, it could be sepsis and we have to send him to the ER. But, I'm not going to put you through that for 100.3 [!!!!!]
J, speaking very quickly as not to be interrupted: Yeah, okay, but when I called the nurse she said to bring him in. I was not overly concerned, but 100.3 seemed high for someone so little, so I decided to call and she said someone should see him.
A: Well, you're right [????] 100.3 is high for someone so little. It's right on the boarder [of what? of 100.4? really?]. You were right to call.
J: Okay, well, he's not warm now but I figured I'd still bring him in so someone could just check him and make sure he was okay.
A: How's he acting?
J: Smiling, cooing, nursing, regular baby stuff.
A: Right, that's right. He looks great! He's so handsome, [to Miles] you're so handsome aren't you? Are you going to smile for me? [Miles smiles] Oh, so cute. He's fine, you can take him home.
In summary, Miles is fine, the pediatrician is still an Asshole, but she did tell me how cute Miles was so I'm letting her slide. Although, I guess since I'm blogging about her and calling her an Asshole, I'm not really letting her slide. I just like it when people tell me my baby is cute, even if they are assholes.