I find it interesting that people automatically try to determine who babies look like. Does he look like mommy? or daddy? Great Aunt Agnes maybe? Really, how do you tell? Especially with the little ones because their faces tend to be kind of mushed. Yet, people always look for it, and almost always offer an opinion.
Resemblances become clearer as the child ages, though - my son tends to favor me, and the Little Miss is definitely daddy's girl. (See, I look for it too) Interestingly, the Little Man acts like his dad and Little Miss is displaying some of my traits.
My entire life I've been told I look like my dad's side of the family, specifically my aunt. The spitting image, or so people always said. She and I neither one saw it, but there must have been something to it because I even had teachers in high school call me by her name more than once by mistake.
Lately, the story has changed. Comments have tapered off about my resemblance to my aunt , and I've been told more than once recently that I look and sound just like my mom. It's kind of thrown me for a loop things have done a 180 like that.
It's kind of made me think . . . Is it normal for a person to morph from looking like one parent to looking like the other as they age? Or is it perhaps more like when people get to look more like their dogs after years of living together? And could that actually happen to me - am I eventually going to look like Mr Me? Any thoughts on this?
Monday, September 17, 2007
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
Hope for Improvement
It's been a rather icky day. It caught me rather by surprise - it's the week before our anniversary vacation, and this week was supposed to be busy, but steeped in the anticipation of fun. Unfortunately, the ick just kind of oozed its way in around the edges.
I had some projects at work go south - 3 to be exact. They've been heading in a southerly direction for a few weeks now for one reason and another, but today seemed to have been the day the floodgates let loose. Never fun, and leads to "painful" discussions with clients. You know, the kind where you and the client keep from yelling at each other by using four-syllable Business Speak words in ultra-long compound sentences. Really not my favorite thing.
Today was also my first weigh-in day of my 3rd installment of Joining Weight Watchers - again! I thought I had had a great week - you know it's going well when you're able to feel like you're starving half the time and yet resist eating anything. I've also exercised almost every day as well. I was excited to weigh in and lost a grand total of . . . .2 lbs. That's POINT two, folks. WTF?
I also was assigned a new computer at work. This seems to be a good thing, until you realize that the tech geeks never reload your machine exactly as you had it. I will be weeks getting all the software and passwords and settings that I have been used to using located and reloaded and tweaked to my liking on the new machine. Argh.
Then I got home to the fam, and the Little Man - who is coming off his first fight at daycare yesterday - was feeling ill.
Oh, you want to hear about the fight thing? The fight in which my 3 1/2 year-old THREW A PUNCH at another kid? And got punched back? Yeah, that was a special moment in parenting, getting to hear about that from the daycare provider. It may have also contributed to today's malaise - we spent the entire evening last evening punishing and lecturing.
Back to my story . . .
So, my Little Muhammad Ali was feeling ill this evening. He had had some diarrhea today, and mid-way through the evening he blew chunks all over the living room. He hasn't done that for a year or so, and man, does the volume and consistency of vomit NOT improve as kids age. The silver lining here is that I was rocking the Little Miss at the time and thus Mr. Me got clean-up duty. Still, we had to light candles all over the house to get rid of the stench. Ick.
I'll be staying home with him tomorrow. Which may be a good thing, with work going the way it is. And my stomach starting to feel ooky.
I had some projects at work go south - 3 to be exact. They've been heading in a southerly direction for a few weeks now for one reason and another, but today seemed to have been the day the floodgates let loose. Never fun, and leads to "painful" discussions with clients. You know, the kind where you and the client keep from yelling at each other by using four-syllable Business Speak words in ultra-long compound sentences. Really not my favorite thing.
Today was also my first weigh-in day of my 3rd installment of Joining Weight Watchers - again! I thought I had had a great week - you know it's going well when you're able to feel like you're starving half the time and yet resist eating anything. I've also exercised almost every day as well. I was excited to weigh in and lost a grand total of . . . .2 lbs. That's POINT two, folks. WTF?
I also was assigned a new computer at work. This seems to be a good thing, until you realize that the tech geeks never reload your machine exactly as you had it. I will be weeks getting all the software and passwords and settings that I have been used to using located and reloaded and tweaked to my liking on the new machine. Argh.
Then I got home to the fam, and the Little Man - who is coming off his first fight at daycare yesterday - was feeling ill.
Oh, you want to hear about the fight thing? The fight in which my 3 1/2 year-old THREW A PUNCH at another kid? And got punched back? Yeah, that was a special moment in parenting, getting to hear about that from the daycare provider. It may have also contributed to today's malaise - we spent the entire evening last evening punishing and lecturing.
Back to my story . . .
So, my Little Muhammad Ali was feeling ill this evening. He had had some diarrhea today, and mid-way through the evening he blew chunks all over the living room. He hasn't done that for a year or so, and man, does the volume and consistency of vomit NOT improve as kids age. The silver lining here is that I was rocking the Little Miss at the time and thus Mr. Me got clean-up duty. Still, we had to light candles all over the house to get rid of the stench. Ick.
I'll be staying home with him tomorrow. Which may be a good thing, with work going the way it is. And my stomach starting to feel ooky.
Monday, August 27, 2007
Three-year-olds Rock
I love the Little Man at three. He has his annoying habits, but he's really become damn funny.
Like the other day when we were going to the mall to get photos taken. By the time his hair was combed and he had on decent clothes (and his sister's hair was combed and she had on decent clothes) he decided he no longer wanted to go. I threw him in the car along with his sister and he did his screaming and carrying on bit until I offered a "treat" if he would be a good boy while getting his pictures taken. As he is a sucker for a bribe (even a vague one), he immediately switched gears and agreed, still snuffling from his fit. And we had this conversation:
"So, you're going to be a good boy the whole time at the studio?"
"Yep."
"And that means no screaming."
"Nope."
"And no running around."
"Nope."
"And no back talking"
"Nope."
"And you will mind everything your mommy says, right."
"Yep. That's the problem."
Or last weekend, when we were packing to go see the grandparents. The Little Man has recently started to pack himself for trips. The packing is a little suspect; his last overnight trip the bag included:
5 shirts
1 pair of shorts
1 dirty sock
1 roll of tape
2 tinkertoys
3 matchbox cars
1 Spiderman DVD (which he has never seen, and we do not allow him to watch)
Still, we applaud the initiative and encourage him in his packing efforts.
He came up last weekend and informed me that he was packed and ready to leave. I had not yet inspected the bag, but I knew he didn't have any underwear in there as we were waiting on the underwear load to dry. I told him that he wasn't ready yet because he didn't have any underwear in his bag, and that we'd have to wait on the drier to pack them.
Two minutes later he comes wheeling his bag down the hall
"Mommy, I'm ready. Get your shoes on."
"No, you're not, you haven't packed your underwear yet"
"I just already did!"
And I looked at him, and noticed his little bare bottom peeking from below his shirt, which minutes before had been clad in underwear and shorts. Those same underwear that were now trailing out the zipper of his bag.
You see why I love three? I hope four is even better.
Like the other day when we were going to the mall to get photos taken. By the time his hair was combed and he had on decent clothes (and his sister's hair was combed and she had on decent clothes) he decided he no longer wanted to go. I threw him in the car along with his sister and he did his screaming and carrying on bit until I offered a "treat" if he would be a good boy while getting his pictures taken. As he is a sucker for a bribe (even a vague one), he immediately switched gears and agreed, still snuffling from his fit. And we had this conversation:
"So, you're going to be a good boy the whole time at the studio?"
"Yep."
"And that means no screaming."
"Nope."
"And no running around."
"Nope."
"And no back talking"
"Nope."
"And you will mind everything your mommy says, right."
"Yep. That's the problem."
Or last weekend, when we were packing to go see the grandparents. The Little Man has recently started to pack himself for trips. The packing is a little suspect; his last overnight trip the bag included:
5 shirts
1 pair of shorts
1 dirty sock
1 roll of tape
2 tinkertoys
3 matchbox cars
1 Spiderman DVD (which he has never seen, and we do not allow him to watch)
Still, we applaud the initiative and encourage him in his packing efforts.
He came up last weekend and informed me that he was packed and ready to leave. I had not yet inspected the bag, but I knew he didn't have any underwear in there as we were waiting on the underwear load to dry. I told him that he wasn't ready yet because he didn't have any underwear in his bag, and that we'd have to wait on the drier to pack them.
Two minutes later he comes wheeling his bag down the hall
"Mommy, I'm ready. Get your shoes on."
"No, you're not, you haven't packed your underwear yet"
"I just already did!"
And I looked at him, and noticed his little bare bottom peeking from below his shirt, which minutes before had been clad in underwear and shorts. Those same underwear that were now trailing out the zipper of his bag.
You see why I love three? I hope four is even better.
The Worst Knock-Knock Joke
As we were cuddling before bed this evening the Little Man tells me this joke:
LM: Knock-knock
Me: Who's there?
LM: Peanut butter jelly sandwich
Me: Peanut butter jelly sandwich who? (say this 3 times fast, I dare you)
LM: Don't eat that peanut butter jelly sandwich, that peanut butter sandwich has mud on it.
As you can tell, he writes his own material. I laughed my ass off anyway.
LM: Knock-knock
Me: Who's there?
LM: Peanut butter jelly sandwich
Me: Peanut butter jelly sandwich who? (say this 3 times fast, I dare you)
LM: Don't eat that peanut butter jelly sandwich, that peanut butter sandwich has mud on it.
As you can tell, he writes his own material. I laughed my ass off anyway.
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
Medical Malady
I am sick again. My sinuses hate me. And I hate them right back. I keep getting this thing where my ears, throat, sinuses and jaw hurt so bad that I want to saw my head off. This is the sixth time in six months that I've had it and I am SO very sick of being sick.
I went to the doc to see if there was anything to do other than saw my head off (the thought did finally occur that this may not be the best way to handle it). Unfortunately, my regular doctor was on vacation so I went to see one of her partners. And wow! What an asshole.
I get in the room, he doesn't introduce himself, but just starts right in reading notes & my chart. He asks decent questions, does a little exam, NOT including feeling lymph nodes. We get to kind of a deciding point in the conversation, and he says, "Well, what do you want to do?"
I wish I had said "You went to school for 10 years to learn to ask that question?" or "I got an A in freshman Biology, but I'm frightened that you need my opinion" or "So this is what happens to the lower half of the med school class" or "If I have to provide the diagnosis I want my co-pay back"
Sadly I stuck more with "Um, wellllll" and "I don't know," which isn't nearly as satisfying upon later reflection.
He ended up ordering me CAT scan and bloodwork. However, instead of helping me navigate through the amazing maze that is healthcare by maybe setting up an appointment or giving a recommendation of facility for the tests, he handed me two prescriptions for the tests and took off, without even a "See ya'" or "Don't let the door hit you in the ass on your way out".
Yikes. I can't believe this jackass has regular patients. I pity them, these people who do not know the meaning of "bedside manner".
So now, instead of being merely sick, as I was when I went in, I'm also pissed off and cranky. Way to go, lousy bastard doctor. I hate you, man.
I went to the doc to see if there was anything to do other than saw my head off (the thought did finally occur that this may not be the best way to handle it). Unfortunately, my regular doctor was on vacation so I went to see one of her partners. And wow! What an asshole.
I get in the room, he doesn't introduce himself, but just starts right in reading notes & my chart. He asks decent questions, does a little exam, NOT including feeling lymph nodes. We get to kind of a deciding point in the conversation, and he says, "Well, what do you want to do?"
I wish I had said "You went to school for 10 years to learn to ask that question?" or "I got an A in freshman Biology, but I'm frightened that you need my opinion" or "So this is what happens to the lower half of the med school class" or "If I have to provide the diagnosis I want my co-pay back"
Sadly I stuck more with "Um, wellllll" and "I don't know," which isn't nearly as satisfying upon later reflection.
He ended up ordering me CAT scan and bloodwork. However, instead of helping me navigate through the amazing maze that is healthcare by maybe setting up an appointment or giving a recommendation of facility for the tests, he handed me two prescriptions for the tests and took off, without even a "See ya'" or "Don't let the door hit you in the ass on your way out".
Yikes. I can't believe this jackass has regular patients. I pity them, these people who do not know the meaning of "bedside manner".
So now, instead of being merely sick, as I was when I went in, I'm also pissed off and cranky. Way to go, lousy bastard doctor. I hate you, man.
Wednesday, July 18, 2007
Busted
Before I go to bed every night I check on the kids. Just a little peek, to see if they need covered, or have chucked their pacifier out of their beds, or look as if they need a mommy kiss right on their little angel cheeks. If the evening has gone as evenings should, they have been asleep for a couple of hours and have reached that "a freight train running through my room couldn't wake me" stage of sleep.
Unfortunately, sometimes they don't.
Last night I snuck in to check on the Little Miss. Right as I walked up to her crib her little head popped up, her eyes bright and shiny. I immediately ducked behind the side of her crib before I was spotted. I stayed there, listening to her, surreptitiously peeking around the side of the crib to see if maybe she would pass out again. Of course, she didn't, instead pounding on her matress, wiggling around and fussing.
With a quick look I discovered that as per the norm, the pacifier I had put in her bed had gone. Doh! I couldn't tell if it had been tossed behind the crib with its bretheren in the Pacifier Graveyard, or if I had caught a break and she'd tossed it up front. I had only a short window in which she would put herself back to sleep. If I let her fuss too long, she would completely wake up and we'd be rocking for half an hour. But, she wouldn't put herself back to sleep without her paci.
So, like any rational adult, I dropped to the ground and started army crawling by the front of her crib to see if I could locate a pacifier. The idea was that I'd find one and slip it through the slats of the crib, so she'd just discover it & pacify herself to sleep.As I slowly made my way along the carpet, I started silently giggling to myself. AT myself. I mean, really.
I must have not kept the giggling so silent to myself, because after a few moments I looked up to see two little bright eyes staring, accompanied by the widest, most delighted smile known to man. So. Busted.
And there was rocking that night. But, I didn't mind much. She did catch me fair and square.
Unfortunately, sometimes they don't.
Last night I snuck in to check on the Little Miss. Right as I walked up to her crib her little head popped up, her eyes bright and shiny. I immediately ducked behind the side of her crib before I was spotted. I stayed there, listening to her, surreptitiously peeking around the side of the crib to see if maybe she would pass out again. Of course, she didn't, instead pounding on her matress, wiggling around and fussing.
With a quick look I discovered that as per the norm, the pacifier I had put in her bed had gone. Doh! I couldn't tell if it had been tossed behind the crib with its bretheren in the Pacifier Graveyard, or if I had caught a break and she'd tossed it up front. I had only a short window in which she would put herself back to sleep. If I let her fuss too long, she would completely wake up and we'd be rocking for half an hour. But, she wouldn't put herself back to sleep without her paci.
So, like any rational adult, I dropped to the ground and started army crawling by the front of her crib to see if I could locate a pacifier. The idea was that I'd find one and slip it through the slats of the crib, so she'd just discover it & pacify herself to sleep.As I slowly made my way along the carpet, I started silently giggling to myself. AT myself. I mean, really.
I must have not kept the giggling so silent to myself, because after a few moments I looked up to see two little bright eyes staring, accompanied by the widest, most delighted smile known to man. So. Busted.
And there was rocking that night. But, I didn't mind much. She did catch me fair and square.
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
A Different Type of Sunbeam
Do any of you watch Big Love? I tell you, I love that show, but there was a scene in Monday's eposide (which I saw tonight) that, well, DAMN. It creeped my shit out. I get that the show is supposed to be shocking, but making love to the wife - ok, 2nd wife - while serenading her with . . . "Jesus Wants You for a Sunbeam"??!!?!?!!? That's just fucked up, that is.
Monday, June 25, 2007
Little Man, Little Miss
My children are being really fun right now. The younger, she just learned within the last week to:
- Sit up for 30+ minutes at a time
- Transfer items from one hand to another
- Eat graham crackers (good starter food, grandma!)
- Put EVERYTHING into her mouth
- Say "da da da da da", every time in a whisper
She's had an eventful week! In addition, she went to the local minor-league baseball game with me and her grandmother and was an angel, even through the fireworks after the game. She was also recently given a completely clean bill of health from her cardiologist and surgeon. She's just been a lovely Little Miss.
Her brother is becoming a big boy right in front of my eyes. He is very close to being completely potty trained - diapers only at night! He carries on a decent conversation, has a crazy, well-used imagination, and has been a pretty good boy in general for the last couple of weeks. He even said 'Thank you for the dinner, mom!' before he trotted off to wash his hands after his meal. Polite every now and again, too!
The Little Man has recently become very interested in mufflers. Every time we're near the car I find him crouched behind it, trying to peer up the tailpipe. He asked me what comes from the tailpipe, so I explained that when the engine runs it makes exhaust and that's what comes out the muffler. He now will tell anyone who will listen - including perfect strangers! - all about this.
Little Man, Little Miss, how did we ever get on without you?
Friday, June 22, 2007
Mysterious Ways
I just learned that my cousin's baby died. She was less than 24 hours old. I don't even know how to react to this.
This was her second child. She found out late in her pregnancy that the baby's heart was not developing properly. She and her boyfriend were dealing with the news well, and made plans to deliver in a hospital with a great pediatric department on site. She had a c-section as scheduled yesterday, and they rushed the baby straight into heart surgery. Surgery went well, but the baby started to bleed out in recovery, and they couldn't get it stopped.
My cousin never got to see her daughter alive.
My heart breaks for her. She went through nine months of the hormone roller coaster, the physical pain and exhaustion, the excitement, the worry, and the expectation of pregnancy. She dealt with the blow of finding out about the baby's physical problems, and had started to make plans like not going back to work so she could take care of the baby's special needs. She went through major surgery to deliver the baby. Now she's planning a funeral, and explaining to her 7-year-old why the baby isn't coming home.
Her situation echoes so much of what we went through with the Little Miss that it scares the shit out of me. I have no idea why I have a lovely, perfectly healthy pink-cheeked bundle of giggles and my cousin has to pick out caskets while she recovers from major surgery. There but by the grace of God go I. And there, for some reason, goes she.
Farewell, Jada. We will miss welcoming you into our family.
This was her second child. She found out late in her pregnancy that the baby's heart was not developing properly. She and her boyfriend were dealing with the news well, and made plans to deliver in a hospital with a great pediatric department on site. She had a c-section as scheduled yesterday, and they rushed the baby straight into heart surgery. Surgery went well, but the baby started to bleed out in recovery, and they couldn't get it stopped.
My cousin never got to see her daughter alive.
My heart breaks for her. She went through nine months of the hormone roller coaster, the physical pain and exhaustion, the excitement, the worry, and the expectation of pregnancy. She dealt with the blow of finding out about the baby's physical problems, and had started to make plans like not going back to work so she could take care of the baby's special needs. She went through major surgery to deliver the baby. Now she's planning a funeral, and explaining to her 7-year-old why the baby isn't coming home.
Her situation echoes so much of what we went through with the Little Miss that it scares the shit out of me. I have no idea why I have a lovely, perfectly healthy pink-cheeked bundle of giggles and my cousin has to pick out caskets while she recovers from major surgery. There but by the grace of God go I. And there, for some reason, goes she.
Farewell, Jada. We will miss welcoming you into our family.
Monday, May 21, 2007
Sunshine
I sat in the bathroom drying and lotioning the Little Miss this evening after her bath. As usual, the Little Man had crashed our girl-bonding time and was in the bathroom with us, playing, chattering and generally getting into everything.
He said "Mommy, I need go potty. I use my potty chair." Before I could get "you're too big for your potty chair" out of my mouth, he had picked the potty chair up and put it on his head as a hat. Gahhhh! I exploded with the grossness of it all, ordering the potty chair off his chair and quickly went into scold/lecture mode about germs and the general nastiness of putting your head anywhere near anything potty related. I was getting into full swing, carrying on over "Mommy, be happy" and incessant whining. Then, I stopped to get up and take the baby into her room, and he said "Mommy, be my sunshine!"
Really, how could I not? You only get offers like that so often, even if you are in mid-lecture.
He said "Mommy, I need go potty. I use my potty chair." Before I could get "you're too big for your potty chair" out of my mouth, he had picked the potty chair up and put it on his head as a hat. Gahhhh! I exploded with the grossness of it all, ordering the potty chair off his chair and quickly went into scold/lecture mode about germs and the general nastiness of putting your head anywhere near anything potty related. I was getting into full swing, carrying on over "Mommy, be happy" and incessant whining. Then, I stopped to get up and take the baby into her room, and he said "Mommy, be my sunshine!"
Really, how could I not? You only get offers like that so often, even if you are in mid-lecture.
Monday, April 16, 2007
Shorts
So many swirling thoughts with no meat for actual posts. So you get: Shorts.
Drop Him
I would pay a lot of money right now for good way to administer eye drops. I have almost exhausted my meager cache of WWE tricks in pinning down and prying open the eyes of the Little Man for those two precious drops three times a day. And we have four days left to go
G-U-I-L-T
I went to work today while Mr. Me stayed home with our two still-feverish spawn. The Little Man has been insanely attached to me since he's been sick, so he didn't take well to the news that Dad was staying home instead of me. He tried every sneaky wile he could think of to make me stay, and I finally had to pry him off my leg and leave him in a soggy, wailing heap screaming "Mommeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeey! Don' go! I neeeeeed you!" Yeesh. The guilt. It is smothering.
And then, there's a second helping.
When I arrived home, the Little Man opened the door from the house as soon as I opened my car door. "Gee, Mom, I sure was lonely without you today." It took him a couple of times to get it out right, complete with his unique Elmer Fudd-like twang, but this was his own sentence, without coaching from dad. *Sob* I'm never leaving the house again.
Curses!
Tylenol Cold with pseudoephedrine has been my highly-preferred method of cure for the common cold for years. I am appalled to discover that they're discontinuing it! The damn government passed a law to make you sign at the pharmacy counter to purchase products containing pseudoephedrine, with some sort of meth-related good intentions. That must have tanked the market for it, because Tylenol put some wussy, third-class drug in its place, slapped 'New!' on the label, stuck it on the shelves and poof! The good stuff is gone.
Tylenol Cold with pseudoephedrine has been my highly-preferred method of cure for the common cold for years. I am appalled to discover that they're discontinuing it! The damn government passed a law to make you sign at the pharmacy counter to purchase products containing pseudoephedrine, with some sort of meth-related good intentions. That must have tanked the market for it, because Tylenol put some wussy, third-class drug in its place, slapped 'New!' on the label, stuck it on the shelves and poof! The good stuff is gone.
Waaahhhhh! Damn meddling government! Damn meth-heads! Damn corporate pharmaceutical company!
Damn stuffy nose that won't go away.
Lashing Out
The Little Man came up to me the other day with the nail clippers and said "Mom, clip my eyes." Uhhh . . . As I explained that we never use sharp things like nail clippers on eyes until we become an opthalmologist and are trained to do so, it occurred to me that he was probably referring to his eyelashes. They are insanely long and adorable. To him? Probably really annoying. And you clip hair when it gets too long, and nails. Why not these? What a BOY.
His sister, I'm sure, will immediately appreciate her good fortune in the lash department. At least I hope the Little Miss gets a little of what he's packin'. Because, seriously. . .
Saturday, April 14, 2007
Pink Eye, Among Other Things
I just took my first ever eye drops for pink eye. Whee! There's a milestone I could have lived without.
I've been sick with an icky sore throat/head cold/chest cold thing for going on 4 weeks, which has completely sucked, but the pink eye thing is new. Adds something, feeling like you have gravel in your eyes all the time. Takes your mind off of struggling for breath through a solidly-clogged nose and trying to keep your lungs from flying out in a coughing fit. And swallowing through the ring of fire in your throat. Eye gravel! New! Annoying! Different!
I caught the pink eye from the kiddies, of course. The Little Miss succumbed to her first-ever cold last Wednesday, complete with copious goop issuing out of her eyes and nose. Being the loving little girl that she is, she shared with her brother and by Friday we were quite the snotty, itchy, coughy, cranky little group. Poor Mr. Me, he's had to come home to all us goopy crabby-ass people at night, and he's been pitching right in. He even took night duty last night so I could finally get a full night of sleep. That, of course, is not happening tonight as he went to bed at 5, but at least I got one night.
The kids are actually holding up pretty well. The Little Miss has been a trooper - she has barely been fussy, just looks pathetic with her little red watery eyes and nose. Occasionally she gets frustrated because she can't breathe and eat at the same time, but can ya' blame her? She finally appears to be on the mend, so I've been changing and washing linens like mad, and Clorox wiping everything that stands still because I DON'T want her or anyone else to get reinfected. It would be double super nice if Mr. Me doesn't get infected at all. He has bad eyesight and only wears contacts, so if he gets pink eye he'll essentially be blind for a week. *shudder* I don't even want to contemplate that.
The Little Man has been doing ok too, but, as the resident drama king, he must make the most of every situation. There has been a lot of "Mommy, hold me like a baby" and over-dramatic tantrums for spectacularly stupid reasons. He has been funny - he has to go "Check on Little Miss, check on her pink eye." When he gets over to her, he takes a look and says "Yep, still pink!" And, he gets mad when I tell him he has pink eye, because his eye is NOT pink, it's black. I guess it sounds more manly or something.
I worry about him, though, because he's had two or three nosebleeds every day since he got this cold. He is prone to nosebleeds, but this is kind of ridiculous. When his nose is stuffed up already, then starts bleeding, it's hard to figure out if he should blow then try to get it to clot, or not blow. It's also hard to keep those antsy little fingers out of the nose when it's bothering him which, of course, causes more bleeding. The nosebleed he had tonight lasted for an hour and a half - I was just about to call Ask a Nurse when it finally died down. If this keeps up it's definitely another call to the doctor come Monday morning. I'm going to have to put them on speed-dial.
Eh. These are the weeks where you really earn your mother's day gift.
I've been sick with an icky sore throat/head cold/chest cold thing for going on 4 weeks, which has completely sucked, but the pink eye thing is new. Adds something, feeling like you have gravel in your eyes all the time. Takes your mind off of struggling for breath through a solidly-clogged nose and trying to keep your lungs from flying out in a coughing fit. And swallowing through the ring of fire in your throat. Eye gravel! New! Annoying! Different!
I caught the pink eye from the kiddies, of course. The Little Miss succumbed to her first-ever cold last Wednesday, complete with copious goop issuing out of her eyes and nose. Being the loving little girl that she is, she shared with her brother and by Friday we were quite the snotty, itchy, coughy, cranky little group. Poor Mr. Me, he's had to come home to all us goopy crabby-ass people at night, and he's been pitching right in. He even took night duty last night so I could finally get a full night of sleep. That, of course, is not happening tonight as he went to bed at 5, but at least I got one night.
The kids are actually holding up pretty well. The Little Miss has been a trooper - she has barely been fussy, just looks pathetic with her little red watery eyes and nose. Occasionally she gets frustrated because she can't breathe and eat at the same time, but can ya' blame her? She finally appears to be on the mend, so I've been changing and washing linens like mad, and Clorox wiping everything that stands still because I DON'T want her or anyone else to get reinfected. It would be double super nice if Mr. Me doesn't get infected at all. He has bad eyesight and only wears contacts, so if he gets pink eye he'll essentially be blind for a week. *shudder* I don't even want to contemplate that.
The Little Man has been doing ok too, but, as the resident drama king, he must make the most of every situation. There has been a lot of "Mommy, hold me like a baby" and over-dramatic tantrums for spectacularly stupid reasons. He has been funny - he has to go "Check on Little Miss, check on her pink eye." When he gets over to her, he takes a look and says "Yep, still pink!" And, he gets mad when I tell him he has pink eye, because his eye is NOT pink, it's black. I guess it sounds more manly or something.
I worry about him, though, because he's had two or three nosebleeds every day since he got this cold. He is prone to nosebleeds, but this is kind of ridiculous. When his nose is stuffed up already, then starts bleeding, it's hard to figure out if he should blow then try to get it to clot, or not blow. It's also hard to keep those antsy little fingers out of the nose when it's bothering him which, of course, causes more bleeding. The nosebleed he had tonight lasted for an hour and a half - I was just about to call Ask a Nurse when it finally died down. If this keeps up it's definitely another call to the doctor come Monday morning. I'm going to have to put them on speed-dial.
Eh. These are the weeks where you really earn your mother's day gift.
Wednesday, April 04, 2007
A Foolish Day
Ahh, another April Fool's Day has past, and again, I'm older. I used to hate my birthdate, but now I think it's cool. It's on a fun minor holiday, so it doesn't interfere with any other celebration, yet it's easy for people to remember. And, I don't end up getting punked as much as you might think, even being a Fool and all.
This year, the birthday was particularly lovely. Wonderful Mr. Me took pity on me and the cold I've ended up with - and also expanded my 'queen for a day' into the whole weekend -and took the kiddies out to my folks' house Saturday evening. So I got to eat Old Shawnee Pizza with canadian bacon and sauerkraut and salad (mmmmmmmmmmmm) to my heart's content and watch chick movies before I crashed into my nice, clean, snore-free bed. AND I did not have to waken until the first birthday call at 8:30. Bliss!
I got up, threw on some clothes, and headed out to eat breakfast with the family. It was a lovely drive. I tell you, a Starbucks Cinnamon Dolce Latte, awesome tunes belting from the iPod, and perfect spring weather are the recipe for a great trip. Couple that with special birthday luck - literally, no red lights, no traffic the entire drive - and flowers and trees just blooming, hell, even baby calves cavorting in the pasture, and you have an hour of pure perfection, right there.
As I pulled up to the house the Little Man came shooting out the door. "Hey, Mom, it's your Birthday!" He drug me into the house, showed me my presents, and promptly opened them for me - a shake mixer and pack of Silpats. Yeah! He's such a good helper, especially where presents are concerned.
The Little Miss greeted me with a big ol' smile on her chubby face too, and was very cuddly. I swear the little chicken fuzz on her head grew just overnight! I had just enough time to feed her before my dad's famous biscuits & gravy appeared on the table.
After breakfast the Little Man and I went outside to play. He insisted that we go down to Grandma's pond and see Nemo, the giant koi that keeps not being dead, even though it lays on its side most of the time and lists mightily to the right when it does attemt to swim. We also discovered a huge bullfrog that we christened Finnigan that the Little Man thought was too cool. Finnigan was promptly added to the pond visitation list for the rest of the day.
The entire day enfolded along the same vein - relaxed, nice family, great food, beautiful weather, and lots of kid participation. The Little Man ended up riding home with me, and he sang me songs all the way home.
I can't wait to be 29 again next year!
This year, the birthday was particularly lovely. Wonderful Mr. Me took pity on me and the cold I've ended up with - and also expanded my 'queen for a day' into the whole weekend -and took the kiddies out to my folks' house Saturday evening. So I got to eat Old Shawnee Pizza with canadian bacon and sauerkraut and salad (mmmmmmmmmmmm) to my heart's content and watch chick movies before I crashed into my nice, clean, snore-free bed. AND I did not have to waken until the first birthday call at 8:30. Bliss!
I got up, threw on some clothes, and headed out to eat breakfast with the family. It was a lovely drive. I tell you, a Starbucks Cinnamon Dolce Latte, awesome tunes belting from the iPod, and perfect spring weather are the recipe for a great trip. Couple that with special birthday luck - literally, no red lights, no traffic the entire drive - and flowers and trees just blooming, hell, even baby calves cavorting in the pasture, and you have an hour of pure perfection, right there.
As I pulled up to the house the Little Man came shooting out the door. "Hey, Mom, it's your Birthday!" He drug me into the house, showed me my presents, and promptly opened them for me - a shake mixer and pack of Silpats. Yeah! He's such a good helper, especially where presents are concerned.
The Little Miss greeted me with a big ol' smile on her chubby face too, and was very cuddly. I swear the little chicken fuzz on her head grew just overnight! I had just enough time to feed her before my dad's famous biscuits & gravy appeared on the table.
After breakfast the Little Man and I went outside to play. He insisted that we go down to Grandma's pond and see Nemo, the giant koi that keeps not being dead, even though it lays on its side most of the time and lists mightily to the right when it does attemt to swim. We also discovered a huge bullfrog that we christened Finnigan that the Little Man thought was too cool. Finnigan was promptly added to the pond visitation list for the rest of the day.
The entire day enfolded along the same vein - relaxed, nice family, great food, beautiful weather, and lots of kid participation. The Little Man ended up riding home with me, and he sang me songs all the way home.
I can't wait to be 29 again next year!
Saturday, March 24, 2007
Facelift
The three of you that visit probably notice that I gave the site yet ANOTHER facelift tonight. I had problems with the old design not working properly in my browser, so I decided to change it again.
I used the new Blogger template tools, courtesy, I'm sure, of the Great Gaggle of Google money being injected into the site. I must say that the tools completely rock out! Makes it SO easy to update the look of the site, and even add what few features I have. I didn't even have to look at the code!
Go Google Go!
I used the new Blogger template tools, courtesy, I'm sure, of the Great Gaggle of Google money being injected into the site. I must say that the tools completely rock out! Makes it SO easy to update the look of the site, and even add what few features I have. I didn't even have to look at the code!
Go Google Go!
Lovely Little Girl
It has been four and a half months, and I've yet to do a dedicated post about my Little Miss. Not her problems, not my issues with them, just her. Shame on me! How am I going to remember her infancy if I don't write it down? Lord knows, the second kid has all but wiped out my remaining few brain cells, so memory is out of the question.
The Little Miss is a delightful child, truly. She's the most easy-going baby ever, though I hate to say it for fear of jinxing myself. She's extremely laid back and easily soothed. I swear, you can talk the kid out of eating for an hour if you need to with a pacifier and a smile.
She's a very social little thing too. Putting her in her room alone is one of the few things that almost always upsets her. She prefers to be where the action is, even for naps. And, with her brother around, there's always plenty of action around.
She's currently hitting the development milestones of a 3-month old. This puts her a little ahead for a preemie, but a little behind for her actual age. She's smiling, giggling, and "ga ga"ing all over the place, which is so cute. She loves to move and kick, and has started to recognize her dad and me. Her little smile pops onto her face as soon as she sees my face over her crib, which makes me finally understand why some moms just want to eat their babies up! She has yet to roll over, but I imagine it's only a matter of time. Her neck, back and arms are really getting strong.
Surprisingly, she seems to have almost no ill effect from all the surgery. You can barely find the scars on her belly, and she rarely throws up, which is contrary to the surgeon's telling us she'd be a "spitter." The only digestive weirdness she has is in the pooping department - it's always a major accomplishment when the poopies happen, and they're very colorful for a breast-fed baby. We are extremely fortunate that she's done so well.
The Little Man LOVES his sis. I'm actually amazed at how well he likes her. He is constantly running by and petting her head, and if she starts crying and we're not immediately at her side he comes running. "Mom, Dad, baby's crying! Think she's sad! Think she needs her massifier!" He has even laid down beside her on the floor a couple of times and said "You're my best friend." Do I expect this to last? Uh, no. But, it's nice that he likes her now, at least.
All this to say, I can't imagine life without our Little Miss. I mean, look at that face!
The Little Miss is a delightful child, truly. She's the most easy-going baby ever, though I hate to say it for fear of jinxing myself. She's extremely laid back and easily soothed. I swear, you can talk the kid out of eating for an hour if you need to with a pacifier and a smile.
She's a very social little thing too. Putting her in her room alone is one of the few things that almost always upsets her. She prefers to be where the action is, even for naps. And, with her brother around, there's always plenty of action around.
She's currently hitting the development milestones of a 3-month old. This puts her a little ahead for a preemie, but a little behind for her actual age. She's smiling, giggling, and "ga ga"ing all over the place, which is so cute. She loves to move and kick, and has started to recognize her dad and me. Her little smile pops onto her face as soon as she sees my face over her crib, which makes me finally understand why some moms just want to eat their babies up! She has yet to roll over, but I imagine it's only a matter of time. Her neck, back and arms are really getting strong.
Surprisingly, she seems to have almost no ill effect from all the surgery. You can barely find the scars on her belly, and she rarely throws up, which is contrary to the surgeon's telling us she'd be a "spitter." The only digestive weirdness she has is in the pooping department - it's always a major accomplishment when the poopies happen, and they're very colorful for a breast-fed baby. We are extremely fortunate that she's done so well.
The Little Man LOVES his sis. I'm actually amazed at how well he likes her. He is constantly running by and petting her head, and if she starts crying and we're not immediately at her side he comes running. "Mom, Dad, baby's crying! Think she's sad! Think she needs her massifier!" He has even laid down beside her on the floor a couple of times and said "You're my best friend." Do I expect this to last? Uh, no. But, it's nice that he likes her now, at least.
All this to say, I can't imagine life without our Little Miss. I mean, look at that face!
Monday, March 05, 2007
Three!
Last Thursday was the amazing day of threes - the Little Man turned three, and the Little Miss turned three months and three days. On the same day, the first day of the third month! It was threelific! And kind of creepy.
The day started with a trip to the pediatrician for the Little Miss, at which we discovered that she's finally hit the growth charts! Woo hoo! She's in the 25th percentile for height and weight, and 10th percentile for head circumference. She's square, with a half-size head. Whatever. I'll take it!
The Little Man's birthday didn't start out so hot. I had been playing up the fact that we were going to have a fun-filled day, just him and mom. I kind of left out the part that he'd be staying with Grandma during the appointment that morning. And even though Grandma brought him a book and a brownie (which of course I let him eat at 8:30 in the morning, dammit! It was his birthday!) he was super pissed that I was leaving. So, I left my poor, poor son in a puddle of tears and chocolate on the floor on his birthday. If that doesn't make you feel like an ass, nothing can.
Eventually his tears dried and the day turned around. When I returned, we left little sis with Grandma and had a train-filled, lovely day. I took him to a local mall and it was off to the toy store, where he played with a Thomas set in the toy store for 45 minutes and got to pick out a few toys for his birthday. Then we ate at a little diner where a train delivers your meal, while other trains cavort about and keep the kiddies occupied hunting for them. Afterward we went to a local children's museum and he got to climb all over an engine and several cars they have on display there, the only low spot being when he realized that when he was driving the engine it wasn't actually going anywhere. That, and also the giant flaming tantrum he threw when we had to leave. In the middle of the huge, echoing, marble-encased foyer. That echoed. And had snickering strangers all around.
All told, though, a wonderful 3rd Happy Birthday for my Little Man. Let's hope his birthday party next week goes as well.
The day started with a trip to the pediatrician for the Little Miss, at which we discovered that she's finally hit the growth charts! Woo hoo! She's in the 25th percentile for height and weight, and 10th percentile for head circumference. She's square, with a half-size head. Whatever. I'll take it!
The Little Man's birthday didn't start out so hot. I had been playing up the fact that we were going to have a fun-filled day, just him and mom. I kind of left out the part that he'd be staying with Grandma during the appointment that morning. And even though Grandma brought him a book and a brownie (which of course I let him eat at 8:30 in the morning, dammit! It was his birthday!) he was super pissed that I was leaving. So, I left my poor, poor son in a puddle of tears and chocolate on the floor on his birthday. If that doesn't make you feel like an ass, nothing can.
Eventually his tears dried and the day turned around. When I returned, we left little sis with Grandma and had a train-filled, lovely day. I took him to a local mall and it was off to the toy store, where he played with a Thomas set in the toy store for 45 minutes and got to pick out a few toys for his birthday. Then we ate at a little diner where a train delivers your meal, while other trains cavort about and keep the kiddies occupied hunting for them. Afterward we went to a local children's museum and he got to climb all over an engine and several cars they have on display there, the only low spot being when he realized that when he was driving the engine it wasn't actually going anywhere. That, and also the giant flaming tantrum he threw when we had to leave. In the middle of the huge, echoing, marble-encased foyer. That echoed. And had snickering strangers all around.
All told, though, a wonderful 3rd Happy Birthday for my Little Man. Let's hope his birthday party next week goes as well.
Sunday, February 25, 2007
Back in the Saddle
So my dreams of writing all the stories from labor and my daughter's hospital stay are fading. They've been prohibiting me from writing anything at all here, so I think I'll shelve them for a while and get back to writing something. She'll be eighteen before I know it, so I better get what I can on the books now and worry about the history later, eh?
I had forgotten how exhausting it is to get no sleep with a new baby! Man. After three-and-a-half months of getting up at least twice every night, I'm finally kind of getting used to it. As long as my caffeine balance is right and happens very early in the day, I can function fairly normally.
Which is great as I'm back to work again too. I've been back for a month now, and am finally used to getting myself and the kiddos ready in the morning. My brain is slowly turning from mush to something I can think with during the day.
It's been a busy week at our house. My dad went into the hospital last Sunday with chest pains, which turned out to be a heart attack. Three days later my daughter had surgery again, this time to repair her humongous belly-button hernia. All is well - my dad is doing great, as is my daughter. All the same, I prefer weeks in which I don't have to juggle which hospital I'm going to!
More soon - the Little Man's birthday is this week, after all! Three years old - gads!
I had forgotten how exhausting it is to get no sleep with a new baby! Man. After three-and-a-half months of getting up at least twice every night, I'm finally kind of getting used to it. As long as my caffeine balance is right and happens very early in the day, I can function fairly normally.
Which is great as I'm back to work again too. I've been back for a month now, and am finally used to getting myself and the kiddos ready in the morning. My brain is slowly turning from mush to something I can think with during the day.
It's been a busy week at our house. My dad went into the hospital last Sunday with chest pains, which turned out to be a heart attack. Three days later my daughter had surgery again, this time to repair her humongous belly-button hernia. All is well - my dad is doing great, as is my daughter. All the same, I prefer weeks in which I don't have to juggle which hospital I'm going to!
More soon - the Little Man's birthday is this week, after all! Three years old - gads!
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