Thursday, July 31, 2008
Why can't I call in sick to my mommy job? Yesterday, I woke up feeling nauseous, weak, light-headed and just plain awful. I also had a really bad headache and just wanted to sleep all day, but I have 2 babies who need to be changed, fed, entertained, and disciplined. Who was going to do that if I didn't? So I reluctantly got up to do my mommy duties. I thought maybe they would understand that mommy wasn't feeling well and would be easy on me...NOPE! I tried to put both kids down for naps at the same time, but Maia refused to sleep and her crying was not helping my headache so I gave up on trying to make her fall asleep. Noah slept for about 45 minutes when he usually sleeps for 2 hours. When he got up, he decided to terrorize my house because I think he could tell that I was slower than usual and by the time I caught up to him, I didn't have the energy to punish him. I chose to brave taking them to the community pool because Noah was developing a case of Cabin Fever. I got him ready to go and packed up our stuff. Of course Maia Belle cried the entire time we were there because she didn't sleep earlier. No one else was at the pool so I ignored her and watched Noah to make sure he didn't drown. (Although if he did start to go under I don't think I'd be much help since I was starting to see stars and felt like I was going to faint at any second.) We finished our time at the pool and headed back home. Maia fell asleep but as soon as I picked her up to take her in the house, she woke up crying. I wanted to cry with her. After lugging both kids upstairs along with all their stuff, I started having hot flashes and feeling like I was going to pass out. But, Noah was hungry and wanted his lunch. No time to rest. I put Maia Belle in her swing and made Noah's lunch. As I sat down to feed him, I layed my head on his tray. I just needed to sleep. He laughed at me and pulled my hair because he wanted me to get up and feed him. It took everything within me to lift my head. I decided to feed him fast so that I could go to sleep. I think he might have gagged a couple of times because I just kept shoving food in his mouth. As soon as he was done, I put him in his crib and I put Maia in hers and I went straight to bed. I remembered that I hadn't brushed my teeth that morning and I considered getting up to do so, yeah right, I was way too tired. I fell asleep to the babies crying. Two hours later I woke up in a daze to crying kids. I still felt like crap and I still had 2 crying children to care for. All I wanted to do was call in sick and go back to sleep.
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
The only reason for this post is to show off my little cutie! I love having a girl. Sometimes I treat her like a doll and dress her up and try different bows on her. She is just so much fun!
P.S. Please ignore her abnormally long finger toes in picture number 2. They kind of look like monkey feet!
I now measure success by the number of bruises or injuries Noah has at the end of the day. The smaller the number of injuries, the more successful I feel. I am proud of myself when I put him to bed and he only has one protruding bump on his head or one scratch on his face. When he has 2 protruding bumps on his head, one scratch on his arm, one red rug burn on his face, a tweaked ankle, and a scraped knee, I feel like I should be fired from being a mommy. Today...I should have been fired! He did a "Superman" (as my husband called it) down the slide on the playground. Apparently he fell head first down the slide which gave him a nice red burn on his cheek and on his knee. He fell off the step stool in the kitchen and tweaked his ankle. He slipped in the shower and bumped his head and he smashed his finger while opening and closing drawers. How are my kids going to make it past age 1? Do all kids get injured this much or do I really deserve to get fired?
Monday, July 28, 2008
I really need to get a manicure. My nails are all different lengths and jagged and my cuticles look horrible. They are a symbol of how "Blah" I feel and I think maybe if I got them done, I would feel better. There are two problems though: 1. I have negative money...that's right, NEGATIVE. 2. My last manicure experience. Obviously, you can all understand the money problem so the purpose of this post is to explain problem #2.
Three years ago I went to get my nails manicured the day before my wedding day. I went to a place that someone had given me a gift certificate for because I don't have a place that I go to regularly. I walk in the salon and all the ladies giving pedicures, say "Hello," and proceed to yell for someone from in the back. A petite lady comes out from the back with her mouth full of food and asks, "You wan you nay-yoo done?"
Me: Yes, please. I need a manicure.
Lady: You wan pedi-cyoo en mani-cyoo?
Me: No just a manicure please.
She then talks in another language to all the other ladies in the salon and it seems like they tell her to do my nails herself.
Lady: You pick cuh-luh
Me: Oh I want a French Manicure
Lady: Oh okay, sit. You wan pay-luh-fin dip?
Me: Excuse me?
Lady: (Gesturing with her hands) Pay-luh-fin dip? Wax? Fo fy dolluh mo.
Me: No thanks. (I didn't really understand until later that she was saying Paraffin Dip but I did understand the 5 dollars more and so I said no.)
She points me to a station and I sit down. She begins the manicure process and I try to make conversation telling her it's my wedding the next day hoping that she will do an extra good job but the conversation goes nowhere because although I pride myself on understanding people with accents, I don't understand a word she is saying and I don't think she understands me either. So, I sit in silence and she holds a conversation with one of the ladies on the other side of the salon who is doing a pedicure on someone else. I was amazed that they could hear each other with all the other talking going on. As she pulled out the cuticle trimmer thingy, I started to get nervous. How is she going to continue her conversation with the lady on the other side of the salon who she keeps looking up at and laughing with while cutting my cuticles? I figure, she is a professional and does this on a daily basis and I will be fine. But, as she starts to trim the dead skin around my finger nails, I feel a pinch and jump and realize that she just cut me. She continues her conversation and doesn't even acknowledge that she just hurt me. I look down and notice that my finger is starting to bleed. She reaches in her bucket of tools, pulls out some clear liquid with no label, and squirts it on my finger. It stings like crazy. She continues on to the next finger and proceeds with her conversation. A few minutes later I feel another painful pinch. She has cut another one of my fingers. Pulling out the unlabeled liquid, she lets out a nervous giggle and smiles at me. Great, now I am going to have bloody scabby fingers for my wedding! I just sit quietly and hope that she will be more careful now. She is down to my last finger, when she cuts me again. I am pissed at this point but I am not one to make a scene in these situations so I just say "Ouch" and look at her to let her know that I noticed this one this time. She smiles back at me, pulls out the stinging liquid, giggles, and says, "Ohh, you hab teen skeen." WHAT?! I have "thin skin?" That is her reason for cutting me? I can't believe she just blamed me for butchering my fingers? Good thing I have a gift certificate. I would be pretty annoyed if I had to spend my own money for this madness. I just smile back sweetly and pray for her to finish with the trimming. Eventually she finishes with no other incidences. I give her my gift certificate and she takes it back to another lady who works there. Then that lady calls over two other ladies and they all inspect the gift certificate and look up at me as if to determine if I was the kind of person who would bring in a fake gift certificate. They call to the back and a man comes out, inspects the gift certificate, looks at me, and goes and makes a phone call. He hangs up the phone and walks toward me.
Man: Uh, you pay dees tine and use dees nex tine.
Me: Why? Is my gift certificate not for this place?
Man: Well, we try to call ownuh but he no ansuh. So you pay dees tine. But don't trow away, you use nex tine.
Ugh! I was so frustrated by this point, I just paid with my debit card and got out of there.
Until I find a product to thicken the skin around my cuticles and a place where I can use my fake gift certificate, I refuse to get a manicure.
Sunday, July 27, 2008
The babies are asleep and the hubby is out getting me my Starbucks fix (with EXTRA whipped cream) so I have time to do a quick blog.
Today when we got to church and were getting the babies out of the truck and into the stroller, my husband pointed out white scrapes all over Big Mama's (my big black truck) front bumper. "What is that?" Ricky asked. Oh Shoot! What did I do? I don't remember. Think fast..."What is what?" I asked back. "Those white scrapes on the front of the truck. Did you run into the wall in the garage?" Uh oh. The other day when I had to endure an hour of Maia's screaming on the way home from the beach, I was a bit flustered by the time I got home and I may have pulled in a little too far and I might have "kissed" the wall but I don't know for sure so that means there is a possibility that I am not the culprit. "You're the one who drove the truck last so it had to be you." I replied. "But I always back into the garage so how could I have scraped the front bumper?" Dang it! Uh uh uh, oh got it..."You probably scraped up against one of those light pole thingys when you parked it at the grocery store the other day. It doesn't look that bad anyways. We could like start a new trend with with trucks; a little white dry wall on the front bumper adds character to Big Mama." To which my gracious husband responded, "Mmm hmmm," and let it go. Phew! That was a close one.
P.S. Ricky just called me from "The Bucks" and said that they are all out of white mocha syrup stuff. How lame is that? I have been craving an iced decaf white mocha with extra whipped cream all day and now they don't have it? I told him that they better give me something for free...no such luck. I am writing someone a letter about this!!!...Oh wait...he just got home and my drink has A LOT of whipped cream on it. All is forgiven and right with the world and no letter is necessary.
Saturday, July 26, 2008
I am so sick of my hair. It is so long and takes forever to do. I think I blow dry it like twice a month and the rest of the time I wear it back in a pony tail. I want to cut it but I am too cheap to pay for my hair to just get trimmed. The way I see it is if I am going to pay more than $20 to get my hair cut, then it better be a drastic hair cut that people notice. So, I've been entertaining the idea of getting my hair cut into an angled bob for the past year, but I have always had an excuse like being pregnant. Now, I don't have an excuse and my hair needs to be cut since it has been 8 months since the last time it was trimmed. Do I go drastic and chop it all off and make a scene by crying my eyes out in the chair because I now look like a boy and the hair that took me years to grow out is now lying dead on the floor and make the stylist feel horrible? Or do I just get it trimmed and be bitter that I spent money and nobody to notices my hair cut and it still takes me an hour to blow dry my hair and be disappointed in myself for wussing out? Ay yaiy yaiy. What am I to do?
Friday, July 25, 2008
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
I have never even entertained the thought of jumping from a moving vehicle, but they say there is a first time for everything. I am uncomfortable calling it suicidal, I'd rather call it mommy -hood. So after a day at the beach with my family, I headed home with the kids. As soon as we got in the car Maia Belle started crying like she always does. I figured she would tire herself out after about 15 minutes. So, I tried to block her out like I always do while attempting to maneuver Big Mama down the narrow highway and avoid side swiping the parked cars on my right and the moving cars on my left. Noah fell asleep in spite of the wailing child next to him. By the time I hit the freeway, I had endured 30 minutes of straight screaming. I kept taking deep breaths and telling myself to think peaceful thoughts and ignore the crying baby. She finally fell asleep 10 minutes later right before I was about to pull my hair out.
Just as I was getting comfortable with the peace and quiet and sure that she would be out for the rest of the drive, she woke up and began the monotonous screaming again. I felt my entire body tense up and my breathing quicken. I begged her to please go back to sleep. No such luck. After about 15 minutes of more straight screaming, a thought popped into my head, "If I open the door and jump from the car, the crying will stop and I will have relief. " Yup, I know what you're thinking, a call to CPS is definitely in order now. But before you pick up the phone, remember that I already wrote them a letter explaining what a great parent I am so they probably won't believe you when you tell them that I seriously considered removing myself from a moving vehicle to rescue myself from the crying child in my back seat.
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Nope. this is not a poopy diaper post, it's about boys and diapers. Noah needed swim diapers for our outing yesterday so Ricky ran out in the morning to go get some. He came home with pink Little Mermaid girl swim diapers. He didn't know that there are boy diapers and girl diapers for swimming. Later when we arrived at the lake, I asked my brother to change Noah into his Little Mermaid swim diaper and trunks because I had my hands full with Maia. Andreas, being the awesome uncle that he is, kindly helped me out. Just as he was finishing putting Noah's trunks on, I look over and realize that he put him in a regular diaper instead of pink Little Mermaid. I call to him from the boat and let him know that he has the wrong diaper. He undresses Noah, takes off the diaper, finds the pink swim diaper and proceeds to put it on him. He stands Noah up and finishes putting the diaper on. Then I notice him inspecting the diaper, and calling to the other boys around for what looks like a second opinion. They turn Noah back and forth and finally come to a consensus that it is on backwards. He lies Noah down one more time to remove the diaper and put it on the correct way, Mermaid on the front. We all cheer for him!
We go out for a wake board run and when we return to our beach spot at noon, the boys set up all the food on our little table. Everyone gathers around to grab their food. I am one of the last ones to get my food, and as I go to serve myself some pasta salad, I notice Noah's wet pee diaper sitting smack dab in the middle of the table fully open with the pee side up and the pasta salad bowl sitting on top of it. Apparently when Andreas changed him out of it in the morning, he threw it on the table (open because only moms know the art of wrapping up a dirty diaper) and when the boys set up the food, no one thought of the unsanitary state of the set up with a pee diaper sitting in the middle of all the food. I quietly moved the pasta bowl and hot dog buns from on top of the diaper, picked it up, wrapped it (like moms do) and disposed of it. Boys...sheesh!
Monday, July 21, 2008
It's 11:00 at night and I am exhausted but....okay I fell asleep after writing that so now it is the next day and I am going to finish writing this post. Yesterday was such a fun day. Ricky's birthday is today and yesterday we celebrated by doing two of his favorite things in the world wakeboarding and jet skiing. We packed up the kids which felt like we were packing for a 7 day trip, prayed for them to be good and for no injuries, loaded up some friends and family and headed to the nasty, green, parasite infested Lake Elsinore. Despite the nasty water and a few nips on the legs from an unseen three-eyed fish the day was perfect. The boys boarded and rode the jet ski and played this crazy game which I guess you only understand the fun in if you're a boy. They all grouped together in one spot in the water and one of them would stand away from the group with a football and throw it to the group huddled together. Then they would push, shove, wrestle, drown, and jump on each other to try to catch the ball. They all looked like they were having fun and would come up from nearly being drowned by each other laughing. I have no idea how that is fun but hey, they're boys which means they're weird! We all had a great time and I even got on the wakeboard and the jet ski and managed to fall gracefully off of both and not make a complete fool of myself. The kids were well behaved for the most part and everyone had a lot of fun. The only problem is that today both Ricky and I have crispy skin because we didn't put sun block on and I was reminded that I am getting very old when I woke up this morning and could barely move because my body hurt all over.
I tried to upload more pictures but after the fifteenth attempt, I almost punched a hole through the computer screen so I gave up. I apologize for the one stupid picture that now represents our entire trip, but I was not about to delete it after all that.
Saturday, July 19, 2008
I ask myself this question whenever we hang out with family because for some reason everyone feels the need to feed my kid. Look at that belly? Does it scream, "I am empty and starving, please fill me with whatever you are eating?" As I have said before, I am obsessed with feeding my kid only healthy foods. I don't give him any refined sugar or fried foods. This apparently means starvation to those around me. They insist on feeding my child whatever they are eating when he is around. I spend lots of time preparing Noah's meals and I could have a full meal of vegetables, fruit, brown rice, and grilled chicken in front of him which he is thoroughly enjoying and yet someone will reach over and shove a chip or french fry in his mouth or will "accidentally" give him Sprite thinking it's water. This in turn causes me to have an internal anxiety attack as I think about how the sugar will alter the chemical balance in his body and the unhealthy oils will clog his arteries. I have to take deep breaths and tell myself to pull it together and try to discreetly remove the french fry from his mouth so as not to offend anyone. If I were to announce that I was going to start only eating healthy foods, would they take food off their plates at every meal and put it in my mouth out of concern for my well-being? Hmmmm, maybe I should try that experiment! I know that you are thinking I am an uptight crazy woman, but we've already established that I belong in the Nut House so I don't feel too bad about it.
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
So today I decided to go on my first outing (not counting Dr.'s appointments) by myself with my two babies. I needed to go to Babies R Us to exchange something and to buy diapers for Noah since there was only one left. What I discovered is that getting out of the house is the real accomplishment whatever follows that is just icing on the cake.
My plan was in place. We would leave at 11:45 directly following Noah's lunch and morning nap. A full and rested kid is the best kind to travel with. This time also was good because Maia Belle was not due to eat again until 1:00 P.M. If I could finish my errand within an hour it would work. Here is the run down of getting out of the house...
Noah is rested and fed. I walk by the bathroom catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, startle myself because I look like a homeless person. With Noah on my hip, I attempt to put my face on with one hand and do something halfway decent with my hair. I pack the diaper bag and ask Noah to find his shoes. Meanwhile I change Maia's diaper and put her in a clean onesie because she has been wearing the current one since...okay I don't remember the last time I changed her clothes...but I am putting a clean one on now. As I am changing her clothes I get a whiff of a nasty odor. I sniff my pits, Noah's butt, Maia's butt. My nose eventually ends up finding that the odor is coming from Maia Belle's neck. Her double chin has been storing some lint and nasty odors. I will deal with that later, I need to get to Babies R' Us. I put her in her car seat. She starts to cry. I grab the things I need to exchange, put them by the stairs along with the diaper bag, and Maia Belle. I peel Noah away from the toilet paper roll in the bathroom, put his shoes on along with a clean shirt and look around to see if there is anything I am forgetting. Noah begins to grunt, scrunches his nose, grabs his diaper and says "poop." Great! I go to change him into the one remaining diaper. All the while Maia screams. Noah now has a clean diaper, we are ready to go... Shoot! I need the gift cards to Babies R Us. Frantically I search through all the office drawers with Noah on my hip saying "bye bye bye bye bye bye." Of course, I can't find them. I will call Ricky to see if he knows where they are. Shoot, again! I can't find my phone. I say out loud "Where did I put my phone?" The little boy on my hip throws his hands up and in a high pitched voice repeatedly says, "Whey'd it go?" I flip over couch cushions, fling drawers open, and overturn clothes. Maia is still screaming. I find it on the kitchen counter with only one bar left on the battery. I don't have a car charger. For the third time...Shoot! I call Ricky and find the gift cards. I run all the bags and return items down the stairs to the car along with Noah, buckle him in, promise to return with the baby and ask him not to cry. On my way back up my mother-in-law calls and wants us to join her for lunch. The time is now 12:45. I have to feed Maia in 15 minutes. I figure it's best for us to go to lunch since I haven't eaten all day and my mother-in-law can watch Noah while I feed my daughter and attempt to eat at the same time. My phone dies, I grab Maia Belle, run back downstairs put her in the car, load up the thousand pound double stroller and get in the driver's seat. I am a ball of sweat. Why did I even put make-up on? But, hey we made it in the car and are ready to go...now, if I could only find my keys...
This is a much different post than what I usually write but I just felt inspired to write it.
Have you ever felt so happy that you feel like you will burst? Have you ever looked at your life and felt perfectly content? There is nothing more you could want. Have you ever wanted so badly to express thanks to God for all His blessings but didn't have the words to do it justice? This is how I feel everyday of my life.
I don't have a lot of money, in fact at times there is barely enough to pay the bills. I don't have a big house...it is actually a very tight squeeze for my growing family. I don't have the fanciest car or the name brand clothes. Yet, I am full of joy and feel satisfied daily. I have learned that material does not bring me joy. My relationship with Jesus Christ is what brings me ultimate satisfaction. He has guided my decisions in life and because of that I am married to the most amazing man who I love, respect, admire, adore, and cherish with all my heart. He treats me like a princess and yet challenges me to be a better person.
Although kids were not part of our plan until 2010, God thought it better to surprise us with two 13 months apart much earlier. When I found out I was pregnant with each of them, I fell to the bathroom floor in tears out of disappointment! I have a plan for everything and this was not a part of it. Now, I don't want to imagine life without my babies because they are vessels of overflowing light in my life. Everyday is an adventure with those two as you all know from reading my blog.
God is so good. I thank him daily for abundantly blessing me. I don't feel guilty for being so happy because I know that blessings are given so that blessings can be passed on. I hope to bless many people in my lifetime. My problem is figuring out how to go about blessing others instead of just basking in my blessings.
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Some of you already know from my previous My Space Confessions that I have a morbid habit of telling my husband the things he would miss about me if I were to die. And for those of you that don't know about this...now you do! Anyways, last night we were watching a movie and made some chocolate chip cookies in the middle of the movie. When they were ready, Ricky got up and went to the kitchen to get us some cookies.
Me (from the couch): "Don't forget my glass of milk with ice."
Me: "You're going to miss that about me when I die, huh? You'll remember that I always liked to eat fresh baked chocolate chip cookies at night with a glass of milk with ice. And you will miss that."
Usually when I say these things he answers with a short "Uh-huh."But this time was different.
Ricky: "Yup. And I will forever eat chocolate chip cookies with a glass of milk with ice in memory of you."
Wow! I just got the warm fuzzies! That was so sweet. He actually will miss me if I die. I have the greatest husband in the world.
Me: "Awww Babe, that is so sweet of you."
Ricky: "Does it make you want to do me."
What can I say... I have quite a charmer on my hands. He knows just what to say to get me in the mood... Are all husbands this way or is mine the only one who has these charming one liners after a romantic moment?
Monday, July 14, 2008
Okay so in my last post I confessed to my love affair with whipped cream. This weekend we were in San Diego and I was craving Starbucks. My husband dropped me off in front of a hotel which had a Starbucks inside. I went inside and ordered my usual, Grande extra hot nonfat decaf 1 pump vanilla carmel macchiato with no foam and of course with whipped cream. When I got my drink and got back in the car here was the conversation that ensued...
Me: "Ugh, I hate it when they jip me on the whipped cream. I think that people who work at Starbucks and don't know how to put whipped cream on a drink should be shot. (Raised eyebrows from my husband) When someone asks for whipped cream on their drink, they obviously like whipped cream so you should put a decent amount of whipped cream on their drink not a freakin' little squirt, right? If they wanted only a dollop of whipped cream then they would ask for only a little bit of whipped cream. But I asked for whipped cream so give me a decent amount and if the can runs out after you only put a dollop then make another can of it and finish putting the whipped cream on. I paid an extra $.88 for my drink this time because it is in a hotel. So, I expect ALOT of whipped cream, but nooooo they had to be stingy with it. Ugh, that guy should be fired!
Ricky: (Still with raised eyebrows) Babe, I think you are on your way to the nut house.
All I wanted was my fair share of whipped cream. Does that make me crazy?
I forget to brush my child's teeth more than I remember. At least they are baby teeth and will eventually fall out anyway.
I was very excited to buy new clothes for work a couple of weeks ago. On my first day back to work I wore one of my new shirts and when I got home I went to give Maia a bath. I held her against my chest to take her diaper off and plop her into the bath tub in the sink but as I slid her diaper off I realized that she had pooped. It was too late, my new shirt had yellow poop smeared all over the front of it.
I blog while breast feeding.
I refuse to go through drive thrus with my Big Mama truck because I am afraid I will chunk a curb or drive thru the menu. I have saved a lot of money because of this.
I let Noah pick up rolie polie bugs and smoosh them in his fingers when he gets frustrated with them because they rolled up into a ball and won't open.
I love love love whipped cream, especially coffee shop whipped cream. When I order coffee drinks I always get whipped cream on them. I cross my fingers and pray that the person making my drink will be generous with it. When they are not, I hope that they burn themselves while making the next drink.
I think my daughter stopped pooping because I talk about her poop all the time on this blog.
I have sworn off family vacations forever after going on a one night vacation this weekend with my children.
I always am ashamed to admit the trash television that I waste precious time watching. This is no different...in fact it's worse...I am deeply ashamed to confess that I watch "I Survived a Japanese Game Show" on a weekly basis. But, before you gasp and start judging, watch one episode if only for the crazy host of "Hai Majide." He is pure entertainment and so are the Japanese studio audience members with their tambourines and bells!
Friday, July 11, 2008
Okay so I am trying not to panic but I have a major dilemma on my hands. My mom's 2nd or 3rd cousin is visiting from Sweden with his girlfriend right now. They have never been here before and I have never met them. Tonight my mom is having a big family BBQ at her house and we are supposed to attend to meet these people and allow them to meet all of their extended family here in the states. The problem you ask?...well you see I have red splotchy hive like red spots all over my body. Picture a giraffe but with red spots instead of brown and that is what I look like. I broke out in hives yesterday because I had an allergic reaction to some medicine I was taking. I am one big ball of itchiness and misery. If I could be a ball of itchiness and misery by myself in my home that would be fine, but I can't...the Swedes are here! I can just imagine what they will think of their red splotchy American cousin. They will probably think that I am a Swede hater and that I am trying to infect them with a disease to take back to their country to infect all the Swedes with. Shoot! I need a solution and I need it quick!
What if I just wear a turtle neck and jeans and put on lots of make-up? Nope, that won't work. They'll think I escaped from the mental institution down the street since it's 100 degrees outside. Maybe I could get some of that self tanner? Then the red will be hidden by an even layer of orange! Then, I'll just look like a typical tanning obsessed American! Okay, I'm out. Gotta go get me some tanner!
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
I know what you're thinking...NO, I am not pregnant again! On Saturday morning Ricky got up to get Noah when he woke up. I heard them talking and playing. Then, I heard Noah start to cry but I didn't hear a thump or anything that usually precedes a cry so I went to see what was wrong and this is what I found!
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
Yesterday was not a very good day for me for three reasons I realized I was a bad mother, a blogger to no one, and a sort of hooker. By the end of the day, I wanted to invite everyone over to throw me a pity party. I hope you all feel very sorry for me after reading this and you can send your sympathy gifts (money preferred) to my house.
First Noah woke up with the mother of all diaper rashes because he pooped in his sleep and sat in it all night. I woke up to him crying, walked into a wretchedly foul smelling room, and had to scrape the poop that was stuck to his butt off as he writhed and screamed in pain. As he was writhing, he grabbed the poopy diaper and swung it. Good thing it only resulted in poop on my finger and not all over the place, but I should have known better than to leave it within his reach, not to mention letting him sleep in his own poop all night.
Then, we decided to go to the beach despite the diaper rash, where Noah ate enough sand to make himself full and in the process blinded himself by wiping his eyes with sandy hands. I dunked him in the ocean water to clean him off. He cried and looked at me with a "how could you" look because his butt was on fire due to the salt water...duh mom...he has a severe diaper rash...ocean water -not the best idea. I tried to make him feel better by showing him sand crabs but he wasn't interested. What kid doesn't like sand crabs?
Maia Belle did well at the beach but after we got home she seemed to cry non-stop and I thought about putting her for sale on craigslist. Later I realized that she'd been crying all afternoon because she was starving. My boobs aren't producing enough milk for her. I apologized to her for threatening to sell her and promised to do whatever it takes to get my milk supply back up. This means taking herbs that make me smell like a rotting forest and pumping like crazy so I feel like a cow.
After both kids were finally asleep for the night, I decided to check my blog to see if anyone had read my posts and left me comments which always cheer me up. NOTHING.
The final blow came when my hubby offered to give me a back massage. I thought, "wow, how sweet! He knows how tired and bummed I am feeling and wants to help me relax and go to sleep." Yeah right! I should have known that he was expecting "something" in return...men...sheesh!
Does anyone feel sorry for me yet?...No?...okay...I'm over it now. Ready to move on to the next blog!...Unless of course you feel compelled to send me a gift, then I am sitting here crying my eyes out and eating a gallon of ice cream.
Sunday, July 6, 2008
We went to dinner at my parents' house on Saturday night and were on our way home at about 10:00 at night. Noah was put to bed at their house so he was awaken from a deep sleep when we got him up to leave. We get everybody loaded in the car and take off. Of course Maia Belle starts screaming as soon as we leave. I don't even attempt to put the pacifier in her mouth because I know that she will just spit it out. As we get on the freeway, Noah starts to grunt. I am thinking it's out of frustration with his sister's screaming. With just about three exits to go, the freeway comes to a dead stop. Perfect! I've got a screaming baby, a grunting delirious tired child, an annoyed husband changing lanes like a crazy man because the next lane always moves faster than the one we're in, and a pounding headache. Suddenly, Noah's grunting stops and I turn to see if maybe he's fallen asleep in spite of his sister's perpetual screaming. He is wide awake. He takes his pacifier out of his mouth so as not to be misunderstood, points at his sister's car seat and says very sternly "NIGHT NIGHT" (Translation: pacifier). He was telling me to give the girl a pacifier to shut her up! He was clearly annoyed and was not going to be satisfied until I climbed into the back seat and gave the baby her pacifier. So, I did...and surprisingly it worked! Maybe my children have a way of communicating with each other that only they can understand? Oooh, maybe they'll be famous and I can make money off of them...gotta go...I'm gonna write to Oprah.
So tonight was a perfect picture of my nightly dinner experience. Let me break it down for you...We get home from the grocery store (no cooking tonight, we bought a rotisserie chicken and french bread for dinner), and Maia Belle is crying as usual. I swaddle her and put her down for a nap. Noah is holding his sippy cup upside down and running around the house saying "spid" (translation: Spilled. New word this week) and leaving a trail of water on my floor. My husband and I unload the groceries and serve ourselves food. I prepare Noah's meal and we all sit down to eat. Noah folds his hands and Daddy prays. Noah tries to speed up the prayer by yelling "EAT" in the middle of the prayer. We all say "Amen" and Maia Belle starts screaming from her bassinet. Noah screams "Baa baa, night night." Daddy gets up to put the pacifier in Maia Belle's mouth and I proceed to feed Noah. Daddy sits down, Maia Belle starts crying again. Noah repeatedly says, "Whey ees da baa baa?" (Where is the baby?). I repeatedly tell him that she is in our room. Then he asks for "Zeh-Watt" (water). I give him his sippy cup and he turns it upside down, and continually bangs it on his tray yelling "Spid, spid." I take the cup away and finish feeding him. Then he wants down and will not be quiet unless I let him get down. I get him out his highchair as food lost in his highchair falls everywhere. I clean it up, go put a pacifier in the babies mouth and sit down to eat. I take a couple of bites and the baby starts crying again. I give up on trying to eat, go get the baby, and attempt to nurse her to sleep while Noah stands next to me saying "up up up." By the time I am done, I am not hungry anymore, but at least I bought a frozen pie for dessert. I take it out and look at the directions...it takes 4 1/2 hours to cook. GREAT...the pie will be ready at 11:00 p.m. after I have gone to bed.
Saturday, July 5, 2008
Have I mentioned my crazy neighbor before? Oh that's right, I talk about him all the time because he causes weekly disturbances. This man is divorced and in his mid-forties with 5 kids ranging from ages 4 to 20. What I don't understand is why he has a two door Pontiac with a Corvette engine as his only vehicle. It is not exactly functional for a family of 5 but I guess being cool and forty-something is much more important. Okay that was mean, but the reason why I feel justified in this is because Mid-Life Crisis man has stolen many hours of sleep from me that I will never be able to get back. The man is unemployed and has no consideration for other the other 98% of employed people in this condo complex. He feels the need to "have a good time" on weeknights and on the weekends alike. A "good time" consists of blasting his music in his garage (which we live directly over) while drinking insane amounts of beer and hard liquor, pulling his car up to the garage, revving the engine and peeling out of the alley to show off for his kids' friends, and talking at an outrageously loud volume. All of this begins to take place at around 11:00 P.M and ends at about 2:30 A.M. As I lie awake in my bed, going mad because of the lack of sleep, I think evil thoughts of how to get rid of the neighbor without leaving any evidence behind. It's amazing what lack of sleep causes your mind to do! Last night was worse. He gets home from the bar at 12:00 a.m. talking at that ridiculously loud decibel and decides to set off fireworks right outside his garage. So I was jolted out of my sleep and nearly peed in the bed as I watched a light show take place on my ceiling.
Any time my husband sees him the following day, Ricky will say something like "you guys were up pretty late last night." To which Mid-Life Crisis Man responds "Oh, were we too loud? We were just having a good time." AAAARRRRGGGHHHH! This makes me crazy! So, I guess as long as he has a good time it doesn't matter that the other 11 families who surround him and his madness are losing sleep and that their babies are being woken up by his "good time." What is wrong with people today?
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
My son has been off the bottle for 4 months now and he is only allowed to have his "binkys" when he is in his crib going to bed. But, since the arrival of Miss Maia Belle, Noah seems to be desperate for a binky. There I was loading the dishwasher when I turned to see this! Good thing my camera was on the counter.
Here is yet another questionable photo. My son seems to have picked up on the Michael Jackson crotch grab. I even think I might have heard a high pitched "Hee hee" as he was doing this.
Or he could have been telling me that his diaper was so full that it was too heavy for him to walk around in... Yup, I think it was option number 2 since I couldn't remember when I had changed his diaper last. Oops!