Grocery Store Calgon Moments

Yes, visiting Kroger has turned into my get-away from my life as a stay-at-home mom. Sad but true. I open the refrigerator eyeballing the milk levels closely. Only 1 cheese stick left???? I'll just run out to the store!

Since G was born I haven't attended bunco or book club. Anything happening at night has been off limits because sleep is just too darn valuable. Either G is sleeping better or I am just adjusting to being tired all the time, but I'm planning to attend December events.

I have a haircut this Saturday (my first since well before G was born--I look like a shaggy dog), so I am gonna relish that.

Since I can't get out as much as before, I have taken to buying myself Us, In Touch and People magazines whenever I want. There are 2 categories of things I generally will not buy for myself even though I love them: Starbucks coffee and celebrity gossip magazines. When my mom asked what I wanted for my birthday I actually said a Starbucks gift card because I just can't justify spending $5 of my own money on coffee.

Anyway, I am finding that I have to treat myself however I can whenever I can since my ability to get away is hampered.

Entourage

Britney has one.
Biggy Smalls had one.
N has one too.

Her entourage...the hangers-on. In N's case, it consists of 2 bears, a pink poodle, roller-skate girl, and one of an assortment of Disney Princesses. These go with her everywhere. She is a multiple-lovey gal, I guess.

The 2 bears are whom she calls 1st Bear and Other Bear. Both are bear-blankets that she got as an infant. Technically, 1st Bear is her second bear; Other Bear was the one she had before she was born. Mamaw bought 1st Bear when she couldn't find one identical to Other Bear (in fear that Other Bear would eventually get lost). They both stink to high heaven because it requires considerable negotiation to get either of them bathed. Both have silky edges that N rubs between either her pointer finger and middle finger or between her middle finger and ring finger. It is very sweet to watch her rub her bear blankets to relax.

The pink poodle she received recently at her preschool friend's birthday party. Roller-skate girl is a cheap McDonald's kids meal toy. The Disney Princesses are these rag dolls--she has Aurora, Cinderella, Pocahontas, Belle and a Snow White that you turn upside down to be an Aurora. She sleeps with a different one every night. She'll say, "I'm gonna sleep with someone else tonight." When D is within earshot, I always say, "Yeah, me too." I used to get eye rolls but now I am ignored.

Because the entourage has grown so much, it has become more of a problem. When it was just 2 bears, it wasn't a big deal. But now N can barely see where she is walking because they pile up in front of her face. When she gets to the car, she can't climb in because her arms are too full. I refuse to lift her in so she has to toss them into the car. And on those occasions when D or I has to carry her half-asleep from the car to her bed, it is a nightmare. She is a solid 40 lbs, so managing her gangly body is hard enough without juggling her dolls and animals too.

Lately N has been coming into our bed during the night. We let her stay until she falls asleep and then D carries her back to her room. With G sleeping in the co-sleeper, I know she feels isolated. Anyway, that is one for another post.

The problem with her coming into our room isn't that she is coming, but she and her crew come. Bears and dolls end up under the sheets, pillows, and twisted in the comforter, which is a problem in the dead of night when she refuses to go back to sleep without everyone being accounted for. And that damn roller-skate girl is hard pokey plastic, a real bitch to rollover on.

Anyway, just one of those cute and yet annoying quirks of having a child.

What a little cutie!

Heiney Butt Hand Sanitizer

I am constantly telling N to use hand sanitizer because she just wants to touch G, especially his hands, all the time. She knows it drives me nuts when she touches his hands, so she'll touch them, give me this mischievous look and say, "Can I do this?" Aghhhh!

Anyway, tonight at Mamaw's house I was talking about hand sanitizer and how I want to start hosing her in it when she leaves preschool before she hops in the car. N said, "Are you talking about heiney butt sanitizer?" I said, "No, hand sanitizer. There is no such thing as heiney butt sanitizer."

At this point, she digs her hand into her underpants and starts fiddling with her heiney butt. Moments later, she pulls her hand out and says, "See?"

So in our house, I guess hand sanitizer is heiney butt hand sanitizer.

This led to a continued discussion of viruses, and we discussed Norovirus, since my MIL just returned from a cruise. N said, "Are you talking about me? (I guess due to the similar sound of Norovirus and her name). I said, "No." She then asked, "Are you talking about my heiney butt?

The age of 4 is gonna be wild.

I REALLY hate it when...

my almost 9-week-old is sick even more than when my hubby is sick, I have discovered. Because when D is sick, I am just annoyed. When G is sick, I am worried.

He has apparently caught the creepy crud that started with N, went to D, and then came to me. The poor dude has deep congestion in his sinus and chest. I called the pediatrician, and they said, "Suction his nose." I kept telling them there is nothing there to suction, unless I purchase a 18-inch tube to jam up into his sinus cavity. I wish his nose was all mucusy so at least when something came out I'd feel like I'd been able to help him a little.

We are trying to keep him upright at all times, so tonight he will be sleeping in his carseat again, something I swore I would never do after the whole torticollis thing with N. You do what you have to do to get through the night, right?

Tomorrow is his 2-month "well" visit (yea, right). I think I am gonna start hosing N down with sanitizing foam before she gets into my car after preschool. I love it that she adores G but I am about ready to knock her out because she kisses on him, gets in his face and touches his hands. This having 2 kids business is hell on a hypochondriac.

I hate it when....

D is sick. And he knows it.

This morning he said, "I'm a real pain when I'm sick, aren't I?" I said, "Yes, you are. I'm glad you recognize it."

He has the creepy crud that N started with last Wednesday, except when D gets it it is always worse and lingers longer than hers ever does.

And because he is a man he wears a look of utter despair and misery for what would be diagnosed as a head cold.

God, I really FUCKING hate cold & flu season.

Health insurance hysteria

I hate this time of year because D's company always makes changes to our health insurance. We are caught in the cycle of rising claims and costs, just like everyone else in this country. The latest is that our deductible is $4000.00 per year, then we pay 20% with a maximum out of pocket of $10,000. Jesus!!!!!

So early this morning when I have finished nursing G and should be falling back into slumber until my next milk machine wake-up call, I am fretting over health insurance, envisioning all of the various catastrophic illnesses that will cause us to have to fork over $10,000 for numerous years.

The days of living lives of luxury are limited, I think. People will slowly go back to living lives of survival--food, shelter, clothing. No big-screen tvs, vacations, etc. At least my family will.

Owner's manual needed

Yes, I need a manual for dealing with N and all her 3-year-old glory. We've had two recent episodes that have left me wondering just how many years of therapy she will need to address her issues with her mother (and how many I will need to address my issues with my daughter and how I parented her).

Yesterday's issue involved her lack of desire to poop on the potty. She pees on the pot no problem, but she will not EVER poop on it. I have tried giving her M&Ms after a successful poop, but she doesn't bite. I tried offering Polly Pocket dolls for every 3 times she poops; again, no bite. She will poop in her underpants and then sit in it, squooshing it everywhere making a gigantic mess for me, and she doesn't care. I don't even know she's pooped until I smell her or see the big bulge in her trunk. Most of the time she refuses to come to the bathroom to get cleaned up, leaving me to drag her there stinking all the way.

So drag her is what I had to do yesterday. Once in the bathroom, she wouldn't cooperate by standing on the stool, so I basically flopped a big mound of poop onto the floor and said, "Ok, we'll just leave it there and you can keep the poop stuck to your butt and legs." N didn't like the idea of the poop being on the floor, so I cleaned that up. When I tried to get her clean, she kept putzing around, not standing still. Suffice it to say, she ended up hitting me so I grabbed her by the arm and drug her out of the bathroom. She lost her footing and fell, with me still dragging.

I felt awful because when I put her in her room she said,"Mommy, you hurt me." I intended to give both of us a time-out but I felt so horrible I just went back into her room and hugged her. She said, "Mommy, I'll be a good girl and cooperate." GUILT. I told her she is always a good girl, but it really frustrates mommy when I have to clean up her poopy messes and she doesn't stand still and cooperate to make it easier. I told her I don't get mad at her pooping in her underpants, just when she won't let me clean her up. GUILT.

And then today we visited my aunt, who gave N a My Little Pony candy. I told N she could have it after dinner (this was nearly 5 when she was given the candy). When we got home, N got her pink scissors and tried opening her candy. I told her she couldn't eat it until after supper, but she proceeded to keep cutting, so I took them and put them on a high kitchen shelf. N dragged a dining room chair into the kitchen with the intent of getting her scissors, so before she could, I hid them on a high shelf in the living room. Undaunted, N grabbed my scissors. I got her off the chair, put my scissors up and told her if she tried to open the candy again, I'd throw it in the outside garbage can (since I figured she'd go kitchen can fishing for them).

G started fussing so I started nursing him. N took this as her opportunity to push the envelope. She kept asking me where her pink scissors were and saying she wanted to eat her candy. At one point, she was poking me on the arm and smacking me with the little bag of candy. I tried to ignore her, but she figured she had a captive audience since I was nursing. I unlatched G and set him on the sofa, grabbed the candy from her hand, and headed for the garage with her sobbing on my heels. The candy landed in the outside can, and N was again taken upstairs to her room. I went back to nursing.

When I got back upstairs to her, she again said, "I'll be a good girl." And again, I told her she is always a good girl and I always love her but she is making bad choices and that frustrates mommy to see her making bad choices.

So I don't know if what I do is good or bad or harsh or firm or anything. All I know is that I feel like I have to set boundaries for her. I simply can't allow her to walk all over me and not have consequences. It is unsanitary to let her sit in poop for hours, even if she is totally ok with it. And she cannot hit me or anyone else.

I know I would earn an "A" for effort on this whole parenting gig because I try hard to be consistent and firm but still let her know that I love her to death. The learning curve is really fucking steep.

BLAH

I hate sicky days. Knowing that I can't get out of the house sends my mood straight down the flusher. Plus, the weather today is cold, windy and overcast.

N and G are both asleep which is good because neither one right now is particularly great about staying unconscious at night--- G because he is a newbie and N because she doesn't want to miss anything G might be experiencing in our bedroom.

N seems to be feeling slightly better today. She is still camping out on the sick bed (our pullout sofa bed) and not eating much, but she hasn't barked like a seal and her fever has lessened.

After reading my friend G's blog about a privacy screen for minivans (like what are in limos), I decided I would invent a similar screen for co-sleepers and bassinets.

It would be a plastic dome that encases the sleeper or bassinet similar to Snow White's coffin that the dwarfs make her. It would be temperature-controlled and provide ample oxygen. It would also have a small speaker on the side. Any baby grunts, gurgles, snores or breathing that might wake the parent unnecessarily do not make the sensor go off. However, any wheezing, failure to breathe or crying would make the sensor turn on the speaker so mommy would awaken and tend to the infant (of course, I guess if there is no breathing a Hal-like voice would notify the parent as to the situation).

I told D about my idea and he thought most parents wouldn't want their babies encased in plastic at night. I am not one of those, however. I could sleep quite well knowing my son is being electronically monitored and that I might actually get 3.5 hours of uninterrupted sleep again before I hit middle-age.

Ok, gotta go back to monitor the kiddos.

CRAP! It's croup

So I've kept the nutso anxious thoughts about SIDS and horrific baby illnesses at bay but now N has the croup so I am internally freaking out.

I didn't even realize N wasn't feeling well until we were on our way across the bridge to visit a Christmas ornament store. She sneezed a couple times, and I noticed that she just looked bleary-eyed. By the time Nana and I got a little shopping done she had that wheezing breath about her and had a frog in her throat. That is always what happens when she gets the croup; it is like an instantaneous infection.

Late this afternoon she had a barking seal spell and was crying and the whole time I could see the droplets of spittle flying across the air and landing just inside G's nostrils. And then I was envisioning him getting sick and having to be hospitalized because he is so young. Aghhhhh! No parent likes for their child to be sick, but now with G I am especially dreading illness not only for what it will do to him but how many panic attacks I will suffer worrying over how it will impact his health.

I know I offered to nurse him more today in the hopes of conveying more white blood cells into him to ward off sickness.

By the time I got N to bed I could tell she was feeling better because she was dilly-dallying, and you generally have to feel pretty ok to putz around rather than just collapse into bed.

My hands are already cracking and painful as a result of extensive hand-washing since 1:30 this afternoon, and I am eyeing every doorknob and cabinet pull as if it should be sand-blasted prior to touching to remove any virus that may lay in wait there.

Being a hypochondriac is a pain but takes on a whole new level when a newborn is in the house.

Please don't be like me

It's not that I think I'm a bad person. I know I'm a decent human being with admirable qualities, but as I am always with me and have always been with me, I also know my quirks, faults and foibles.

At brunch today, my friend shared her anecdotal theory that 1st born children are like their dads and 2nd born children are like their moms. Now D has his share of weird qualities...namely his sense of humor which N does seem to have inherited since she finds him immensely funny...but he is so much a better, more even-keel person than I am. N tends to go-with-the-flow like D and enjoy low-key things like staying in and watching tv all day in her pajamas (something D too would find equally enjoyable).

And so I pity G if my friend's theory is true. Hopefully his boyness will keep him from being a raving moody bitch of a dude. Unfortunately he already seems to have high-strung, tightly-wound tendencies, such as screaming his head off when my nipple doesn't get into his mouth at the instant he starts fretting for milk. And wet or dirty diapers just seem to undo him...I can see him relax as soon as a diaper change is imminent.

Poor, poor G.

God, I love 'em

Even when my boobs hurt and I can barely keep my eyes open while driving because the gentle rocking lulls me nearly to sleep and I hear, "BUT MOM," too many times a day to count.

I am so lucky to have my children (we take too many pictures like these and I'll start thinking, "Yep, I definitely want a third."

Perhaps I CAN do this...

I guess I am doing this...being a mom to 2 kids.

Some days are better than others. I keep saying if I could just start getting 4 hours of sleep between putting G down to bed and waking to nurse him I'd be golden. This may never happen as it seems I delivered the most wakeful baby on the planet (at least at night).

But I have been getting out solo with the kids....to the post office, to the grocery, to playdate. My social life is nonexistent, which is ok since I really don't have the energy to do anything after 6:00 pm. I turn into a pumpkin, and a grouchy bitch of a pumpkin at that.

G is 6 weeks, so I had my postpartum check. Got an Rx for birth control but told D he's looking at 2008 for any kind of carnal relations involving me. Sex requires energy which requires sleep, and since I don't see consistent sleep in my future I therefore don't see sex in it either.

I am trying to get my Christmas shopping done since it blows my mind that Thanksgiving is 2 weeks away. N is done, my oldest nephew is done, so I've got my other nephew and niece to go. Poor G is gonna get a chew toy at best. I just can't get too excited about buying something for someone who doesn't know or care. Where is the fun in that?

N keeps saying really funny stuff, but she has gotten to the point where her funny sayings are like long-winded running commentaries which require far more energy to type than I have the energy for. Last Sunday she informed us at Mamaw's that she was getting married on Monday to the boy she loves (but she doesn't know who he is yet). When she awoke on Monday, and I told her it was a preschool day, she said, "But today I'm getting married."

After last week's incident at her friend's when I had to remove her to the front porch, she and I were talking about her possibly having a playdate with a preschool friend. I asked her what will happen if she refuses to come when mommy picks her up and says it is time to go. She replied, "I'll be put out on the porch in the cold." Momma knows how to make an impression.

And then there is her response when she doesn't agree with what we've said, such as "N, you are such a silly willy." Her reply: "No I ant."

Which Care Bear Would I Be?

Sleepless Bear?
Fucking Grouchy As All Get Out Bear?
Like How Can I Possibly Care About Anything Bear?
Somebody Make Him Sleep For God's Sake Bear?

In my last blog I said G will sleep eventually, but I have since decided this is my own personal wet dream. Here is a brief outline of my future:

• G will NEVER sleep through the night. He will be 5 years old, preparing for kindergarten and still require at least 30 nursing sessions per 8-hour-stretch.

• N will still be pooping in her underpants when she is 14, and I will still be peeling it off the fabric, flopping it into the commode and feeling my OCD head about to explode by the grossness of it all.

• I will sleep again only when I am dead.
  

Note: There are only 3 bullets because right now all of my life revolves around my boobs, poop and lack of sleep.

Preschooler for Sale

I love my daughter so much it hurts, especially now that G has arrived and I see her trying to cope with not being the center of our family. She has been sassy as all get out with me, pushing the limits of what she knows is acceptable behavior.

Today she had a playdate at a neighborhood friends. When I came to pick her up, she refused to leave and ran away from me through my neighbor's house when I tried to get at her. When I finally did manage to catch her, she fought me on putting on her shoes, so I grabbed her, her shoes, jacket and doll and stuck all of them on my neighbor's front porch and shut the door. I grabbed G off my neighbor's couch and left.

N was sitting on the front porch, sans shoes and jacket, crying. She wouldn't put on her shoes, so I grabbed her arm and started walking her home through the cold grass and on the cold pavement. She cried, "My feet are cold," so I told her to put on her shoes. She boo-hooed loud enough to wake the dead all the way home saying, "I don't want to leave."

I know I did what had to be done. She does not get to make the rules and dictate to me what she will and will not do. But because I am spending so much time either impatient due to lack of sleep or busy tending to G, I feel horribly guilty....moreso than I usually would because I am spending most of my time being the heavy...not enjoying time with her like we used to do just 5 short weeks ago. When life is in survival mode, pleasurable activities take a backseat first.

So now my insides are all bungled up with love for her and compassion because her world has been rocked more than mine and D's with G's arrival. We knew what to expect but she didn't. And at the same time, I cannot stand her alot of the time because while what she is doing is normal and healthy, it is also highly annoying and aggravating.

This will get better. This will get better. This will get better. I know we will adapt, G will sleep eventually, N will settle in to life with a little brother, I won't be nursing 5,000 times a day forever. But on days like today, these things seem like a fairytale dream.