I'll be there in a sec honey...

This blog has moved.

2006-09-20T14:22:00.000-04:00

I've moved my blog over to Wordpress. The new address is:

http://mamat.wordpress.com

I hope y'all can make it over there!

Weekend mess in pictures

2006-09-19T17:32:00.000-04:00

Well I was going to post pictures of the mess from this past weekend, however Blogger won't let me. :( I've tried twice now and it just thinks and thinks and thinks and then I get the silly "timed out" message from their server.

What IS that smell?

2006-09-18T13:15:00.000-04:00

Remember this post about the stinky smell in the basement? Dead mouse? Dead frog? Nah, we weren't quite that lucky. Try our septic tank was overflowing from under the lid into our yard and we didn't discover it until Saturday afternoon. You know how many septic tank fixers work on a Saturday afternoon??!! Zip. Zero. Zilch. So while I was ranting and raving that SOMEBODY had to be able to return a call on the weekend, hubby just stared at me like the crazy I-want-action-NOW whacko that I can be. (This is why he put me in charge of the sub-contractors when we built the house. I could call them and get action out of them.)

I have pictures to document the fixin' of the problem, but I forgot them and without them, the rest of the story just wouldn't be the same. So I'll let you imagine what could have happened until tomorrow. All that I will say is that for once, I was glad The Home Depot was open late on a Saturday night. Oh and that we are able to flush the toilets and shower again.

Welcome to the Tweener Years

2006-09-14T16:32:00.000-04:00

It's with firm conviction that I declare G. to be Tweener. Too old to be a little girl and too young to be a pre-teen. The attitude, the self-conscience demeaner about looks, the unsure self-esteem of a pre-teen are all slowly surfacing, but yet the little girl obsessions over Barbie, Littlest Pet Shop and Polly Pockets are still there. It's a fine line to walk with her for her daddy. One minute she's happy so snuggle up and watch Shrek 2 and the next minute he's "totally embarrassing" her. In a moment they can go from joking around and teasing to tears and foot stomping or from I love you Daddy to you don't understand me Daddy.

It'll be interesting to see how this Tweener grows into a Pre-teen and beyond. Being in two households is hard enough for a kid, but being a hormone filled, gangly girl will surely be a challenge both for her and her parents. I have a feeling she'll clash with her Mom more than her Dad, mostly because she is SO much like her Dad, and there's so much history to show how "well" Mom and Dad get along. Albeit much better lately, but I think you catch my drift.

I imagine that the next year or two will be very telling. Will it be a battle all the time or will it only be an occasional battle? Will she become more withdrawn into her awkward tweener stage of life, or blossom into a socialite who shares every thing? Right now, she has declared that she doesn't care if she has a lot of friends. Will that change? If not, I can just imagine how much more boring we'll become to hang out with.

House boat in waiting

2006-09-13T14:57:00.000-04:00

Oh look, it's raining again. What a surprise! I wouldn't have expected it to rain for the 6th day in a row. (insert eye rolling smilie here)

Last night, or really early this morning at 4 a.m., it rained so hard I thought for sure the house was going to start floating away. This morning, it was no surprise when we woke up to see Lake G. and Lake G. Squared in the front and back of the house. Yes, we have a drainage problem. And yes, we are working on it. Obviously unsuccessfully working on it. But, if it doesn't stop raining, then we can't get out there and fix it because it's too muddy and wet to work with the tractor. Such a vicious cycle. We need the month of July back. Lots and lots of dry, dry, dry, hot days. But this is mid-September in Michigan, so the chances of that kind of weather are slim to none.

In other house news, I headed down into the basement yesterday morning and before I could reach the bottom two stairs I noticed a pungent dead mouse like smell coming from beyond the door. I followed my nose to the corner where the smell was the strongest and discovered it was coming from our sump pump crock. Convinced that a mouse or frog had fallen in and died, I grabbed a flash light to take a look. But no floating mouse or frog revealed itself. So what did I do next? Called hubby of course. Then when he couldn't figure it out, but was convinced that our septic field was leaking into our drainage field, I did the next logical thing. Call our plumber.

The plumber said, "Maybe a mouse or frog got in there and died. Put some bleach in there and see if it helps." So we did and this morning, the dead mouse smell is gone. But that might be because Lake G., which is in the back of the house, is draining into our drainage field at breakneck spead, so the water is being pumped out of the sump crock about every 5 minutes. If there was anything dead in there, it got jetted out somewhere in the middle of the night. So while the rain helped to solve one problem, it created another.

On the good news side of things, since hubby can't work outside this weekend, I can finally get him to help me move some things around on the inside. Or maybe, just maybe, we can *gasp* go out somewhere. It's a long shot, I know, but one can hope, one can hope. ;)

(Disclaimer: I inserted the winky because most of the time I'm just as lame as he is and opt for staying in rather than going out.)

Oh Ungrateful Me

2006-09-11T14:37:00.000-04:00

Me: Um, I don't know how to say this diplomatically, so I'm just going to say it. I don't want anymore of your Mom's hand-me-downs.

Hubby: Oh. Like what?

Me: Like she brought another lamp.

Hubby: It goes with the desk that she gave us.

Me: We have a lamp for that desk. And her style is not my style.

Hubby: I told her I wanted all her stuff. Like her couches.

Me: Her couches?!?!?! No way in hell am I taking those couches.

Hubby: Why? We could recover them.

Me: They are ugly and uncomfortable. We have no place for them.

Me: At the old house, I had to live with the ghost of your ex-wife. This is our house. I'm not living with your mom's furniture like I had to be reminded of your ex. all the time at the old house.

Hubby: Oh. It's just that a lot of it is my favorite stuff from my childhood.

Me: That's fine. I don't want it. I don't decorate in that style. We already have 2 desks, an armoire, a nightstand, a "game" table and lamps. One of those desks I didn't want in the first place.

So yes, hubby thinks he's doing us a great service by getting us "free" furniture, when all I see is yet another time in my life where somebody else gets to decorate my (our) space with their hand-me-downs. Frankly, I'd much rather NOT have anything and save the money to get what I really wanted in the first place. I am so past hand-me-downs.

Don't get me wrong, it's nice, solid, quality furniture, but it doesn't go with my Pottery Barn wannabe style. And the problem is, the stuff we do have, I didn't have much of say about either. He just showed up from a visit with a cargo van stuffed full of her furniture. So I guess I see this as the best opportunity to speak up about the rest of the stuff.

*************************************************************************************

I'm not ignoring the fact that today is the 5th anniversary of the 9/11 attacks, but it also happens to be my step-daughters birthday. So I'd much rather think about this as her day and the day my husband became a father for the first time, than think about the horrible day that it was 5 years ago.

Ranting Part Deux

2006-09-08T14:35:00.000-04:00

I'll let my email to the company speak for itself:

Dear Sirs,
On July 7th, I purchased a pair of Chaco sandals at in , MI. Since then, I have worn them maybe 2 or 3 times a week. Today, as I left a meeting and got ready to walk the 15 minutes back to my office, I notice that my right sandal was fitting odd. I looked down and discovered that the plastic buckle on that sandal had broken. So, I walked back to my office and am now emailing you to find out what you can do for me and my barely two month old sandals. I've attached photos that I took with my picture phone. If you need better pictures, I'll be more than happy to take some with my digital camera and send them to you, along with proof of purchase.

As a side note, up until this point, I have always purchased Nike sandals and they have lasted my a good 3 or 4 years before I had to replace them because I wore them out. On the recommendation of several friends, I decided to give Chaco sandals a try. I hope I don't have to go back to Nike, because I've been very happy with my Chaco product up until now.

Thank you,

Edit: The response from the fine Chaco folks (note sarcasm)

We warranty all manufacturing defects. We warranty any component that has worn out more quickly than the rest of the sandals due to a flaw in the material. We would be more then happy to warranty evaluate the buckles. Your photo's show the broken buckle, but we do need to physically see them, since we haven't had a problem with defective buckles lately.

Please use our web site at www.chacousa.com <> and fill out the repair form, which has all the information you need. This entitles you to a $5.00 discount for using our web site, if there is a cost to you.

In any case, we will contact you with your options.

Ok, so basically they have a warranty, but I have to ship my sandal to them to prove that it is broken and if they deem that it is some freakish busted buckle episode, they'll fix it for free. Otherwise, I'll get to pony-up for shipping and a repair. (minus the $5 discount) Oh and I'm supposed to clean them in the wash machine before I ship them, because if they end up in Colorado dirty, they aren't touching them. But what if they break in the wash machine?? Hmmm???

Excuse me for expecting more from my 2 month old $75 sandals.

Restroom rant

2006-09-08T14:26:00.000-04:00

I have a bone to pick. Well actually, two bones.

One, how hard is it to flush the freakin' toilet?!?! I went into the restroom at work today and like so many times before, somebody before me didn't flush the toilet. Ick. My nine year old forgets to flush the toilet (often), I expect more out of adults.

Two, how the hell do you get the seat wet in a women's bathroom?! Ok, if you are squatting, I can see a stray spray happening, but then wipe it up. And before you tell me that I should squat, there's no way my legs are strong enough to squat for anything other than a #1. And I didn't have to do a #1, so I sat. And my thighs got wet. Ick.

Every time this happens, I immediately want to go home and shower. But I can't, so I get to live with a cold, wet and sticky icky feeling between my leg and my pants.

So please flush and if you squat and spray, wipe the seat. Because when I only have 5 minutes between meetings to take care of business, I don't always inspect the seat first for stray spray.

Fun at Millennium Park

2006-09-07T14:26:00.000-04:00

We had planned on going to the Museum of Science and Industry last Friday, but after a late start (surprise, surprise), a long train ride into the city (oops, no express trains at Noon) and the discovery that an equally long bus ride would have put us at the museum around 3:30 p.m., only to have it close in a couple hours, we settled on just hanging out in Millennium Park.

G. and her cousin had fun in the The Crown Fountain, until the little guy slipped and fell, getting soaked and bopping his head. But he survived, albeit a bit on the chilly side since we had no extra clothes with us because we were supposed to be at the museum.

Sofia got her chance to run around like the crazy nut that she is when we stopped for a snack at Jay Pritzker Pavilion/Great Lawn. Ever since learning to run, she only knows one speed these days: fast. It's a good thing her sis, cousin and daddy were up to the task of keeping up with her.

And last but not least, they have this really awesome thing called the Cloud Gate. I'll let the pictures explain:

As usual, I had forgotten one of my 5 Chicago city maps (because I forget every time and purchase another one), so I made my annual purchase and it helped us find the free trolleys that the city offers within The Loop. We hopped on the Red Square trolley and within 20 minutes we were on the Metra Train (X-press this time) back to the suburbs.

The only down side to the weekend was that once again, I had to fight with Sofia for every nap and every bedtime. Including on the train into downtown and on the way back. I'm sure the commuters enjoyed that. And I've yet to mention that she has started hitting when she gets tired or frustrated. So on the train ride back, I had to put her into the "Mommy Straight Jacket" to avoid getting beat up and screamed at.
This is so unlike my daughter and I'm not sure how to deal with it.

Head full of junk

2006-09-06T16:36:00.000-04:00

Too..much..going..on...

Make..it..stop..now...

Hope..to..post..soon..

1:00 a.m.

2006-08-31T13:59:00.000-04:00

Question: Why is it that my body always seems to start functioning in not-so-convenient ways at 1:00 a.m. in the morning when I'm trying to get one very awake 13 months old back to sleep?

First, as I was leaning over the crib rail patting her on the bottom, my nose started to run, so I had to quick grab a cloth diaper to wipe it. Then after the whole bottom patting didn't work, I tried rocking her. Well by then, my bladder kicked in and with every glider rocking motion forward, it screamed at me, "EMPTY ME SOON OR ELSE YOU WON'T LIKE WHAT WILL HAPPEN!". So, just when I thought I had her back to sleep, I slipped her back into her crib and made a b-line for the bathroom, only to have a now screaming child waiting for me when I got back.

Next, we moved down the hall to the spare bedroom, so as to not wake up hubby. I forgot that I didn't put the sheets back on, but said screw it and laid down with her on the mattress pad and pulled up the comforter. Within a couple of minutes, my nose started burning and the sneezing commenced. Lovely. Which then made my nose run again. Joy. It's no wonder I couldn't get her back to sleep. Once the nose settle down, then my stomach started grumbling like that of a bear who just came out a long winter hibernation. Breath in, quiet, breath out, GRUMBLE. Breath in, quiet, breath out, GRUMBLE. And so on.

Finally when all of that settled down and Sofia dozed off with my arms holding her tight, I fell asleep. But not for long because I woke myself up sucking air like I had just run a five miles for the first time in years because in some weird twisted dream, I was running around with Sofia in my arms yelling at everyone to help me because she was growing scales by the minute.

After checking her to make sure she indeed did not suddenly grow scales, I carried her back down the hallway and went in her room to put her back in her crib and discovered that I had not put the crib rail down when I fetched her in her screaming state earlier. Apparently my brain issues started well before dreams of a reptile daughter. What did I do? I did my very best to put her in without dropping her too much as I stood on my tippy toes. She went right back to sleep.

At 3:40 a.m., I crawled back into bed. And I slept. Soundly. Until the alarm went off at 6:00 a.m.

(Note: We are leaving tonight after work for Chicago, so I won't be blogging until we get back. Unless I hijack my MIL's computer. Have a great holiday weekend.)

(Chi)cken in a (Ca)r and the Car can't (Go)...

2006-08-30T14:52:00.000-04:00

...That's how you spell???? Come on now, I know you can figure it out..... Chicago!!!

Mom used to sing that all the time and still does, I think, whenever I tell her we are going to Chicago to visit hubby's Mom and the rest of his family residing there.

So yes, we are off to Chicago tomorrow night for the holiday weekend. The plan is to prepack the (ca)r as much as possible tonight after Sofia goes to bed (I need some good luck with that lately) and tomorrow after work, we swoop up Sofia from daycare, come home, throw the dog in the car (not literally), throw ourselves in the car (mini-SUV really), drive up to G.R. to throw G. in the car and then make the 5 hour trek to Grandmommies house. (depending on the lovely Chicago area construction) We are hoping that by leaving late on Thursday, we'll avoid the usually horrendous holiday weekend traffic AND catch a break in the construction areas. To which I say, Murphy will most likely have other plans for us, but we'll see.

We do have one glaring "issue" on our hands. With all the necessary baby-type stuff to bring and still leave Zoe (the dog) with enough room, it only makes it possible for us to bring our umbrella stroller. I have an issue with this because if we are going to be (and we will be) A. at the zoo B. in downtown Chicago or C. walking around "Last Fling" in Naperville, then I have a hard time making Sofia nap sitting up. And she needs to nap. Trust me, she does. Nor do I know if she'll nap sitting up. So, do I end up carrying her around in my arms sleeping for an hour like we did on Mackinac Island?? How fun THAT would be to do again! Or do we bring our kiddie backpack carrier and let her sleep in that while one of us must have her attached to us at all times? Don't..know..what..to..do. Hubby says she'll be fine. Hubby is usually making sure G. is happy, so it really isn't his issue, for the most part.

Vacation is supposed to be fun, right? I'm worrying over nothing, right? Don't get me wrong, I like going places and you know, actually doing things. But it's the battles that I have with Sofia to nap, find her someplace to nap and get her to go to bed in a strange place that make me want to stay home. Other than that, I don't mind vacation at all.

Living up to the pressure

2006-08-29T15:09:00.000-04:00

On my way into work this afternoon, I was listening to NPR (as I often do) and caught the last few minutes of the Diane Rehm Show. The guest on show was Alissa Quart discussing her book, "Hothouse Kids", which is about her experiences as a gifted child and research she did on parents and how they raise gifted kids. (and regular, but thought to be gifted kids) I caught the part of the discussion on how parents feel tremendous pressure to make sure they buy the Baby Einstein DVD's or CD's, sign their 2 year old up for math tutoring, teach them sign language and get them on that preschool waiting list even before they know how to walk. And she was not just talking about gifted kids.

I too feel that kind of pressure. I haven't given into it that much, mostly because I just don't have the time (and money) to spend on hours of Baby Einstein DVD's. And frankly, Sofia's attention span for most things, especially television, is about 5 minutes. If that. Oh and yeah, I know, kids under 2 aren't supposed to watch ANY television. Yep. Well, a few glimpes of Elmo or the Teletubbies on the weekend isn't going to rot her brain. Though, we do have a rule for G. that if Sofia is playing with her toys (in the living room), she can only tune the TV to the local PBS station or Sprout. So we do have some standards.

The pressure isn't limited to teaching kids these days either. I feel like the worst mom on earth if I suddenly don't have the budget to buy everything organic. Like all the ills that my daughter will have in the future will be caused by my not shopping at Foods For Living and putting us into even more debt. I try to cover all the food groups each day, doesn't that count for something any more? I have to try to cover the food groups AND make sure nary a pesticide has touched our food?

When we were in our Bradley Birthing class, the instructor did her very best to scare the shit out of us about everything in this world that I had been used to and how it would deform my baby if I continued to eat/do/use it. After I had Sofia most of my granola pursuits went out the window, except for breastfeeding. But now as she is getting older and I keep reading more and more about other moms doing this and that, I'm feeling really guilty for not following suit. Even though a lot of it isn't financially possible. So I will weigh the options and will probably buy organic something here and there, but mostly I'll keep doing what I'm doing and hope that it's the right thing to do.

Lost

2006-08-28T14:11:00.000-04:00

Lost: A friendship that I thought would last forever.

We were best of friends in college and you stood up for my first wedding. We lost touch once before, but when we reconnected right before you moved out west, it was like finding my lost sister. You helped me through my divorce, we climbed a mountain together, spent many night on the phone sharing our lives and then it just started to fade. I'm still not sure what happened. I got married, you didn't say congrats, my dad died, you didn't say I'm sorry, I gave birth to a daughter, you didn't return my call and then I heard you were moving again, and still no word that you are even alive. Your mom says you are busy as always, and I suppose that is some comfort in my feeling blown off state of mind. But I'm having hard time accepting that you just don't care. People come and go, but I never thought it would happen with us.

So as you move across the pond to somewhere outside of London, I wish you farewell, both for your move and our friendship. I hope that someday, we can be like sisters again and share a pint of Guinness on the patio of life.

It's been a long time since you've been here

2006-08-25T09:14:00.000-04:00

Hello eight consecutive hours of sleep! I haven't seen you around in a long time and this morning when I woke up, looked at the alarm clock and realized that it was 6:15 a.m. and you had payed me a visit last night, I was giddy happy. Of course, I secretly wished that you could have been replaced by nine or ten consecutive hours of sleep. But I realize that you could be gone as quickly as you arrived, so I refuse to take you for granted and hope that you'll extend your stay for at least one more night.

Love Thursday

2006-08-24T15:44:00.000-04:00

In keep with the Love Thursday theme that Chris passed along from chookooloonks, here is a picture of love:

Two brothers and a sister. Only the sister isn't here anymore, so it's pictures like this one that they have to rely on to remember her laughs, her smiles, her evil sneaky tricks, her thoughtfulness and her love for her 2 boys and husband.

Egg shells and stepin'

2006-08-23T14:57:00.000-04:00

If have to admit, that I've been a little "short" with my step-daughter lately, but I don't think any more so than if she was my own. I believe it's just a sign that summer needs to end soon and thankfully, it will (for our portion) tomorrow afternoon when hubby drops G. off with her mom at the end of the day. Then she's back in school after Labor Day and we are back to weekends where we don't have to hear incessant whining about how bored she is, how we never do anything (we do)or really, whining about everything associated with her dad and I. Hubby feels the same way too and expressed it last night with a comment something like this: "Tonight was just one of those nights where I just wanted to.....arrrghhhh!!!" This was just after we spent the evening hearing about how hungry she was (if I don't eat something soon I'll die), we get to Grandma and Grandpa's, she sees that the salmon isn't cooked the one way she'll eat it and runs off pouting. Then the cucumbers weren't any good. Then the tomatoes tasted like the cucumbers. Then she couldn't eat the beans because they had something on them. Etc, etc, etc... Oh and how come nobody consulted her when we (and the Grandparents) bought new smoker grills this spring, because she hates it and everything we cook on it. At that point, I left and took some food home because it was close to Sofia's bedtime and it showed.

So what does this have to do with egg shells and stepin'? Well I'll tell you. I have to watch my step when I make comments on moments like one described above. I'm not her mother, but I'm also not a doormat to get walked over. However, making comments on my hubbies parenting style with his daughter gets me in trouble more often then not. So, I have to tread lightly, as if on egg shells, because being a step-parent in NOT like being a parent. And when I made a comment when they came home last night and he made her a plate of food after refusing what was offered at the grandparents, I got a smartass comment back about yes, I'm a softy and do you want to divorce me too. So, me and my big mouth need to just shut up and pick and choose our battles.

Good news confusion.

2006-08-21T13:09:00.000-04:00

Ring, ring...

Me: Hello.

Nurse: Mrs. G? Hi, we've got Sofia's ultrasound results back and everything looks fine.

Me: Fine?

Nurse: Yes, fine.

Me: So, what do we do next? The Ped's G.I. appointment isn't for 2 months.

Nurse: Hold on, let me ask the doc.

Me: (waiting, waiting, waiting)

Nurse: Doc says give her some chocolate or strawberry milk to see if it changes the color of her poop.

Me: Uhhhhh....k??????? Chocolate milk........?

Nurse: Let us know what happens.

Me: And if it doesn't???? Can we try eliminating food on our own? Keeping a food journal?

Nurse: Sure.

Me: Sure?

Nurse: Sure.

Me: I'm paying your guys for what now? (No I didn't really say that, but I thought it really loud.)

Nurse: If she starts vomitting or gets worse, let us know. Have a good day!

Me: Mmmm....ok. Bye. (????!!!!)

Fun Fun Fun

2006-08-21T09:06:00.000-04:00

17 tickets for a Sunday afternoon Detroit Tigers game, hot dogs, nachos and drinks : $200+

2 Detroit Tigers hats and 1 pink mini-bat: $56

4 large pizzas, salad and drinks after the game: $160

After the game, getting to walk on the field and watch the kids run around the bases (while trying to convince the guards to let the adults do it too): priceless

Buy me some peanuts and cracker jacks....

2006-08-21T08:58:00.000-04:00

A picture of fun!

This message was sent using PIX-FLIX Messaging service from Verizon Wireless!

Let's go Tigers!

2006-08-20T15:51:00.000-04:00

Go tigers

Our trip to the Diagnostic Center

2006-08-17T14:24:00.000-04:00

Well, that sucked. Flat out sucked. Hubby holding down her arms and me holding down her legs so the ultrasound tech could scan her tiny little organs sucked. Period. She cried her eyes out and wanted to get up so bad, which meant we had to pin her down a little harder. (but still be gentle)

I dropped her back off at our daycare provider and cried because I couldn't take the rest of the afternoon off and make it up to her.

Now we wait. Until Monday, at the earliest, for the results. I don't want to wait. I want to know now that my baby girl is ok.

Hump day declaration

2006-08-16T14:59:00.000-04:00

Late last week, I was flipping around on our HD channels and came across the show Dead Like Me on HD Net. I was immediately hooked and even got hubby hooked by the end of the second episode. I should also mention that, bless his anti-scary movie self, he was also pondering life and death and the fairness of it all by the time the credits ran. To which I said, "Honey, it was just a TV show." I don't think it helped.

Sunday rolls around and my mom calls with bad news, a good family friend has been sent home for hospice. Upsetting, but expected. Monday my mom calls with more bad news, Uncle in New Jersey passed away on Sunday. Again, upsetting, but expected since his severe stroke. Monday night, talk to my brother, thinks he might be getting a pink slip on Friday from work. Well shit, for all he's done for them..... Tuesday, other brother calls to confirm his and mom's plans to fly out to NJ and oh, by the way, Aunt So-and-So is in the hospital, chest pains = masses in her lungs. Cripes almighty!!! Today is Wednesday and everyone at work is in a pissy mood. I closed my door to avoid listening to small "discussion" in the hallway. There are still two more days in the (work) week.

So, I am officially declaring this "Bad Karma Week". If we can have "Play Tiddlywinks Week", "National Toenail Fungus Awareness Week" and "Genital Integrity Awareness Week" (no that is NOT a typo), then "Bad Karma Week" can be declared. This way, all the bad karma happens in one week and we have 51 weeks to enjoy good karma.

There will be no watching of Dead Like Me this week. I don't want to be blamed for "Bad Karma Week" being changed to "Bad Karma Week, Part 2, The Sequel". Sequels usually suck.

Only slightly freaked out

2006-08-15T13:01:00.000-04:00

Only slightly freaked out = me after the doctor appointment yesterday AND Sofia's reaction to having blood drawn. Honestly, she did much better than I did as I squished her little legs between my legs and held her right arm under my right arm while one technician held her left arm and the other took out the blood. I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes. I think she complained more about being held still than having a needle stuck in her arm.

So the good news is that we got the blood tests back and all her levels were normal. However, we are still taking her for an ultrasound on her liver on Thursday, "just to be sure" as the doctor told me. Great. If that is normal, then we will be referred to a pediatric gastroenterologist (sp?), which will take 2 - 3 months to get an appointment. So yeah, I was right to be concerned about her poop, the bloodwork and liver test are to rule out the nasty stuff first. "Of course", says the doctor, "she could just end up having weird poop." Weird poop...technical term, right?

The ultrasound should be interesting on Thursday as we try to hold our almost 13 month old ants-in-her-pants kid still on an exam table for 15 minutes or more. Conjure up all the images that might come out of that experience and you know if nothing else, it'll be interesting. Interesting indeed.

Paranoia

2006-08-14T14:36:00.000-04:00

I had all these great things to blog about and then I started reading my AAP (American Academy of Pediatrics) and Harvard Medical School books trying to figure out why Sofia's #2 (or B.M. or poop...however you want to say it) has been really tan/light colored, bulky and really stinky the past couple weeks. Oh and why she has a rash on her scalp that the poor thing has scratched to bleeding.

After about an hour of reading (on the poop, not the rash), I'm about to drag her out of daycare and into the pediatrician. I'm really trying not to freak out, but those books scared the bejebus out of me.

Hopefully, she'll tell me a nut and to go home and stop reading. (And researching on the internet.)

Some cows and an ass

2006-08-11T16:09:00.000-04:00

I finally got to looking at some of my pictures from Madison, Wisconsin. They have this Cow Parade going on through the summer, so I thought I'd share some of the artwork:

Cows on parade

Oh and today was not the day read a megathread on the message board I visit daily, where one person said 99% of parents are stupid f***ers. He doesn't have kids. Hates them. And never plans to have them. So of course, that makes him an authority.

I hate when I get sucked into reading all 9 pages of those threads. Blech.

It was started because of this story:

Little League walk controversy

Picky Picky

2006-08-10T15:56:00.000-04:00

First an update on the sleep thing. Or more like waking up thing.

I slept all the way through last night. Yay! I've probably jinxed it, but I really don't care. I was just so flippin' happy to hear Sofia yapping this morning, roll over and look at the clock and see it say 6:00 a.m. instead of 1:26 a.m. Seven and half hours of uninterupted sleep. Booyah!

The main topic for this post is about our endless battle (or at least it seems like it) with my step-daughter and her picky eating habit. It happened again last night and hubby wasn't there so it was up to me to deal with it. I did the speech about keeping an open mind before she tries it, she has to try it and she has to have a balanced meal. And then when the long teeth made their way down to the table, I resorted to the "When I was a kid I was expected to eat what was put in front of me. If I would have complained and moaned and groaned like you do, it would have been tough tooties. Eat it." Which is all true. Then after much pushing around of the food on her plate, I said something like, "I make one thing for dinner. If you are not going to eat it, then you get to make your own. I'm not a short order cook." So she did. I instructed her from the dinner table on how to warm up the leftover taco meat, a tortilla and how to put it together.

Call me a meany. Call me a hardass. But about a year into our marriage, I just got sick of only being allowed to make spaghetti, tacos or hotdogs for dinner. Especially when she was with us for 7 day stretches at a time. That was almost four years ago and nothing has really changed as far as her food likes. Oh, except steak, which she also asked me why we couldn't have every night. (My mom buys it all the time....good for you mom dear, I'm glad she can afford T-bone every night) So, I just started making what hubby and I would normally eat when she's not there, including her favorites at least once a visit, and said she'd have to broaden her horizons. And hubby agrees with me. So at least we have a united front on this topic.

So yeah, last night hubby came home and I briefed him on the food situation, he gave her the same speech that I did, but also included that she's not allowed to just skip what we are having and make her own meal, because that means she's getting her way and NOT eating healthy. So, I guess we are both hardasses. And mean. Because I was also informed that her mom let's her do what she wants and they eat out or order pizza when not having T-bone for dinner.

Score: Mom - eleventy billion; Dad & step-mom - much less than eleventy billion (trust me)

The witching hour

2006-08-09T15:41:00.000-04:00

I'd really like to discover why it is that almost every night, I wake up somewhere around 1:30 a.m. It is really becoming annoying. Especially since most nights now, Sofia sleeps through the night. Except last night when she woke up at......you guessed it, 1:22 a.m. After spending 40 minutes in her room rocking/soothing/tummy rubbing, I gave up and brought her into bed with us. She gave in and fell asleep after a few minutes. I however, slept like crap.

So back to this mystery wake up time. It doesn't seem to matter what time I go to bed, what I do or don't do in the evening, where I am (I woke up in Madison too, at 12:30 a.m.-ish), or if I've had caffeine, alcohol or roadkill in the hours preceding going to bed. (I'm kidding about the roadkill. Kinda. It's a topic for another post.) I'm really becoming frustrated and I'm positive that this frustration has predisposed me and my pea brain to wake up at 1:30 a.m.

Sleep helper drugs are out of the question because I don't want to be comatose if I do need to get up for Sofia. Yes, I know she has a father too, laying there right next to me. Mr. I-didn't-hear-a-peep-out-of-her-at-all-while-you-were-gone. Figures. Although, apparently the dog must have missed me because she kept him up all night the first night I was gone, pacing up and down the hallway looking for me. (I suppose there is sleep justice afterall.)

So now I'm contemplating what to do to stop this cycle of waking up. Hypnosis? Half a dose of Nytol? Lots of alcohol? Unplugging my alarm clock so I have no idea what time it is if I wake up and might just trick my warped sleepy brain? Any ideas would be welcome. I love sleep and the fact that I'm getting up and it's my own fault is very annoying. I've now mentioned the word annoying twice in this post, so I suppose my point is made.

The definition of "lip"

2006-08-08T14:54:00.000-04:00

Hubby: When I tell you to go to bed later, I don't want any lip. You got to do everything you wanted to this weekend and more. Plus stay over at E and O's house and stay up way late every night.
9 year old: Ok.

An hour later....

Hubby: G, time to get up in the tub and get ready for bed.
9 year old: But why, it's too early? Why do I have to go now.....?
Me: (clearing throat) Lip!
9 year old: I'm not giving you lip, I'm just asking why.
Hubby: I already explained why. Now, get upstairs.

Lip = Talking back to parents as long as it's not in the form of a question.

Or not.

Argh!

2006-08-07T14:11:00.000-04:00

I was lazy and didn't post from Madison, despite having a laptop with me and forking out $9.90 a day for internet access at the Hilton. (Which gets expensed under "Miscellaneous".) But, let me just say that I was quite impressed with Madison, Wisconsin. I can completely understand why folks go to school there and then want to stay after graduation. It's the perfect melting pot of university life and a capital city. Tons of stuff to do, commuter friendly, environmentally friendly, two huge lakes for recreation, an hour from the Dells (if you like that kind of stuff), very open minded to all walks of life and the lively atmosphere of a Big Ten university. My very own Big Ten university and capital city could take a lesson or two from Madison on how to get along and make folks want to stick around, instead of bolt as soon as the graduation gown comes off.

While it IS nice to be home, the first day and a half were a bit, um, shall I say stressful. First, a day into being out of town and hubby tells me that his Mom is coming to town for the weekend with our nephew and that of course, his brother and the 3 girls are coming too. So of course, as the week progressed and as my time to go home got closer, my stress level shot sky high. I was driving home 8 hours to a houseful of guests. No food in the house. Nothing had probably been cleaned. No time to switch gears.

Sure enough, about 6 hours into Saturday, I flipped out as I was trying to pack enough food, sunscreen, clothes and everything else for what I thought would be a couple hours at the lake, but was told at the last minute (1 1/2 hours after we were supposed to have left), "You should probably just pack enough for the rest of the night." Tears streamed down my face and I realized what a crazy bitch I looked like flipping out over extra hotdogs.

See, I'm a pleaser and a caretaker. The curse of the being born under the sign of Cancer. So, if something is forgotten or not right, of course it's my fault. "Honey did you pack this?" or "Honey did you pack that?" gets twisted in my little pea brain as, "I can't believe you didn't remember to pack everything and anything that we could possibly need!". And really, being stuck out at the lake without food or drink for Sofia would have sucked. So I had to at least be prepared for her.

All in all, the day ended up fine. But I couldn't help feeling a little bad about my bitch episodes and that my mother-in-law, who got to witness them first hand, thinks I'm a nutjob.

Better late than never

2006-08-01T05:33:00.000-04:00

(Bad start to day.)

I text messaged this photo to blogger last Monday. I got no response. Assumed it was lost in the text message vast expanses of space, floating out there like a dead useless satellite. This morning at 5:30 a.m., I got a message on my phone saying it was alive. And here it is in all it's glory. I'd say that it doesn't apply anymore, since it's a week later, but I am leaving for Madison, Wisconsin via Chicago in an hour and now that I think about it, it's probably an appropriate picture to represent my drive after looking the Illinois Department of Transportation web site this morning. My iPod will keep me sane, right?

Fry an egg on the pavement

2006-07-31T15:11:00.000-04:00

Don't get me wrong, I like summer. It's my favorite season. (Not so much of a cold weather fan.) But this whole 95 degrees, 103 Heat Index stuff is for the birds. Ok, not even really for them. Or anyone. I was outside for maybe 45 minutes yesterday morning, spraying Round-up on the weeds and sweat was dripping down my back. At 9:30 in the morning. Ugh. When I was in my early 20's, I wanted to live in the South. Ha!! My Midwestern blood wouldn't have lasted very long in days upon days of this stuff.

I really wanted to go hiking or to the park with Sofia this weekend, but there was no way I was going to subject her to this heat if I didn't have to. So instead, she made several trips to Menards, Lowes and Home Depot while we searched for a good deal on a patio set. By the time we got to our second trip to Menards late yesterday afternoon, her protests were being heard very well and we had to tell the guy in the lumber yard that we couldn't wait any longer for someone (ANYONE!!) to come help us find out what happened to the cinder blocks.

I did, however, manage to get a deal on a patio set for us by negotiating with the two Home Depot's in town, because one store had the table and four of the chairs and the other store had the other two swivel chairs to complete the set. Normally, I hate shopping at Home Dept, but a deal is a deal. Although, as we waited forever for someone to help us load up the table and chairs Saturday night (all while Sofia wanted "down" even though I didn't want her "down") I grumbled under my breath just how much I hate The Home Depot. Oh and the looks we got because we had Sofia with us while trying to load and maneuver our purchase into the truck. I'm sorry people, but what I am supposed to do with her? I'm not hiring a babysitter for a trip to The Home Depot.

Just call me Sloppy Sofia

2006-07-28T15:35:00.000-04:00

It's only taken me what, five days to post this picture of Sofia and her cake face from her party. Life's been a little bit busy this past week and it sure doesn't feel like I can shout out T.G.I.F.! Too much to do before I leave for Wisconsin next Tuesday morning for a conference. That chicken with it's head cut off feeling that started last weekend before the birthday party has just carried through the rest of the week.

At least I can look at this picture and think about how much my baby girl has changed and grown up in the past year. The images that your mind previews before events in your life happen somehow almost always end up looking completely different. We seem to predispose ourselves to thinking things will go just a certain way and then life throws us a curveball and sometimes it ends up even better than what we had anticipated. Of course, other times it's ends up pretty shitty, but I won't go down that road. I'm really trying to end my day on a positive note.

And on that positive note, I'm hoping to spend this weekend feeling the polar opposite of last weekend and spend some good quality time with Sofia and her Dad. Albeit he'll be working outside on the house (in 90 degree weather), but I'm sure I can entice him to take a break or two and we can go feed the ducks at the park in town or just sit on the deck and enjoy each others company. Maybe. Who am I kidding, he's determined to work like a dog this weekend and it's up to me to feed him Gatorade and get him to stop and eat so he doesn't freakin pass out. Otherwise he'll drink Diet Pepsi, won't stop to eat and then wonder why he's feeling like shit at 4 p.m. in the afternoon.

So yes, hats to be worn this weekend: Mom, Wife, Nurse, Housekeeper and Nag.

(Positive thinking...positive thinking...positive thinking)

Reading envy

2006-07-26T09:38:00.000-04:00

You know what they (wink, wink) say, "The first step towards recovery is admitting to the problem." So here goes: I have reading envy.

Reading envy is when I see a list like the one posted here or posted on a private message board that I belong to (from now on referred to as BTG) and think about how I've only read TWO of the books mentioned on the first list and none of the ones on BTG so it most assuredly confirms that I'm lame. I've been working on the same Janet Evanovich book for a month and half and it's not like it's a tough read. That's not a knock on Janet Evanovich's writing either.

Truth be told, I've got a stack of new books waiting for me to read. Some of them I've started reading, gotten distracted and by the time I come back I forget which one I had in my hands last so I just grab one at random and hope there's a bookmark. (Bookmark = whatever I had handy at the time I put the book down, which is usually a tissue, Target receipt or gum wrapper)

At the beginning of the summer when I started to Blog, I also promised myself I'd start to read more and to an extent I've been pretty good about it. But then something like the Tour de France happens and my fanaticism for sports, especially really competitive grueling sports, takes priority over all else after 9 p.m. at night and the next thing I know it's 11:00 p.m. and I'm asleep. Then I see the stack of books on the shelf of my nightstand and the above mentioned lists and feel all guilty because I've been watching the boob tube instead of reading some really great writing. (Aside from the blogs I normally read that are great!)

I suppose I shouldn't be so hard on myself. It was a GREAT Tour this year with all the drama one could handle and might I admit, even better than the past couple "Lance" years since it was assumed he'd win and he did. But then watching the Tour brings up another issue for me, which is just how much I miss biking. Now how am I going to a fit that in?

Leftovers

2006-07-24T14:57:00.000-04:00

Party success: check

Happy kid: check

Happy guests: check

House looked good: check

Leftover food: manageable (except for only cooking 10 of the 28 hotdogs in the pack)

Leftover booze: enough to have a party every weekend from now until Labor Day

Reason for leftover booze: Hubby shopped at Sam's Club*

(*see leftover food too)

Time it took me to fall asleep last night after hitting the pillow: .00000005 nanoseconds

Time it took hubby to curse me out because he had "things" on the mind: .00000006 nanoseconds

Overall ratings for the day:

Sofia - 9.8 (Points taken off for the brief moment I put a party hat on her head during the singing of Happy Birthday and she got a frown and started to cry.)
Step-daughter - 9.0 (Bored up until the party, plus I made her clean house with me, but great fun with her cousins during the party, foul mood post-party because she wanted to go the Children's Garden with her cousins but they had no room in their car and "Oh my gosh you won't let me sit on the floor of their car or drive me there in our car right now with them".)
Me - 8.8 (Points taken off for the stress leading up to folks showing up, trying to keep things rolling so out-of-towners could leave at a reasonable hour and resorting to yelling at hubby when after the 4th cellphone call he wasn't back at the house (he was 2 minutes away at the neighbors with the kids) when I had called him 10 minutes earlier to say, "It's cake time, she's getting antsy in the highchair, please come back." So yeah, the 4th call went something like this, "Now. Get back her now. She's ready, I'm ready, everyone's ready and I'm not putting her off any longer." Click.)
Hubby - 8.7 (For the above mentioned reasons which were a direct result of me.)

Party prep

2006-07-21T14:26:00.000-04:00

While I was waiting for the edit computer to encode my footage AGAIN this morning, I caught up on the blogs that I regularly read. (Not all of them linked here....sorry) After reading this post, I got into a panic about all the cleaning that we have to do at the house before the big birthday party this Sunday. Let me just say this: AAARRRRGGGGHHHHHH!!!!

It's the kind of cleaning that you do before Mom comes over. But worse. Because ALL of the family will be there from both sides. And they don't want to see what my kitchen floor looks like right now. Or the 1/2 bath. And especially not the weeds in the front of the house trying to look like a respectable flower garden. (Yes blank (insert random relative here), I intended it to look like a natural green and wildflower landscape) Frankly, I just can't keep up with the weeds and unless they are within 2 feet of any flowers, they are going to get the Round-up treatment.

Did I mention I got the crazy notion to make her cake too? I don't know what came over me. But now that I've actually told some people, I have to go through with it. Silly rabbit, that's me. At least I was smart enough to send hubby to Sam's Club to get the pre-made burgers, buns and beverages. One less thing I'll have to worry about. But really, who I am kidding. Until 8 p.m. Sunday night, I'm gonna be a chicken with my head cut off.

Worry worry

2006-07-20T16:04:00.000-04:00

Earlier today I was doing the kid update with a co-worker. You know how it goes. Compare notes. How is she? Good Yep. Mine too. And then he went into all the worries he has because his 14 month old just started crawling, won't eat table food, isn't very verbal and still isn't heavy enough to flip the carseat around. I got done with the conversation thinking about how much we worry as parents and how it'll never end. Today, toothless anxiety. Tomorrow, she's an hour late past curfew.

On that same note, today is Sofia's one year physical. As previously mentioned, I have my list of questions. But more importantly: the shots. Time for more vaccinations and I'm not looking forward to that. Ugh. Poor thing has no idea what she's in for and how miserable she'll be tonight. Just the thought of holding down her arms so the nurse can jab three needles into her legs makes me sick. And this time I don't have the luxury of letting her nurse for comfort right afterwards. Necessary evil: yes. But it still sucks. It'll top of what has been an otherwise crappy day at the office where I've spent all day trying to finish up a project only to have more corrupt files, bad encodes and cruddy looking results than one should endure in a single day. Blah.

2006-07-19T15:52:00.000-04:00

To paraphrase Bilbo Baggins from the movie Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring, "Today is my thirtieth and four birthday!" No grand party like dear old Bilbo, just a nice dinner tonight with hubby at Outback Steakhouse using the gift card we got exactly one year ago and have failed to use.

What does Chippy the chipmonk have to do with my birthday you ask? Well somedays, more than others, I feel like I'm sitting in Chippy's fur. Just a little part of this world, sitting in a place in life that is not exciting or 'Wow' by any means, but filled with many different experiences and moments that make me smile about my life right now. (It wasn't always this happy and I try to cherish every day since it turned around.)

As much as we didn't expect to run into Chippy on our short hike the second day of vacation, I'm sure he didn't expect to run into us. I'd like to think that life works this way more times than not. There are things that happen everyday the same say because it's routine and necessary. But outside of that, everything else is just a surprise. Methinks it's a pretty good way to look at life. Everyday is filled with mini surprise parties. Yeah for us.

Happy Birthday to me. And to all my birthday twins out there, whether we've met or not.

Food

2006-07-18T15:57:00.000-04:00

If I only had a buck for every second I spend thinking about what to feed Sofia and can I feed it to her yet, I'm sure I'd have an extra mortgage payment soon. And I must say that the whole feeding a one year old thing can be very stressful. Especially when she still has only two teeth. So what do I do? I scour the internet, of course, because it knows all.

Some people have their kids completely off the jarred stuff by one year, others still have little ones eating nothing but jarred food at 20 months and some, like us, are in between. So what do I do? I hate buying the jarred stuff, but she can only chew/mash so much. I'm all confused about portion sizes too. How much is enough? Do I still feed her baby cereal? Do I give her regular oatmeal? What do I do if we are having tacos? Will they be too spicy for her? So much to guess about and sooooo many different opinions out there.

Don't even get me started on bottles. We cut out the afternoon bottle on our vacation last week and I'd like to get rid of the mid-morning bottle too. But how will I know she's getting enough milk to drink from her sippy cups? Ugh. Ugh. Ugh. How long do I let her have a morning and bedtime bottle?

I've got a list this long of questions for the pediatrician on Thursday. Not just food related either. I hope she has extra time allotted for us.

*************************************************************************************

We had an epic food battle with hubby's daughter the last night of our vacation last week. After spending the whole day on Mackinac Island having a grand ole time, we decided to go to a place that a co-worker recommended and get Pasties for dinner. We figured that we were in the U.P., so we will eat like a Uper.

It didn't take long for the 8 year old to decide that she didn't know what a Pasty was and therefore, even before tasting it, it was crap. (Pasty = steak, potato, rutabaga in pie crust)
Part one of the battle was at the roadside park we stopped at to eat when we were told, it's too hot to eat it. Then we were told after a mouse size bite (all crust), she didn't like it and the stomping off across the park happened. Upon her return, the conversation went like this, "This is what's for dinner. Nothing else. You got whatever you wanted earlier in the day. You like steak, you like potato, eat it." We failed to mention the rutabaga. She got 3 bites into her promised 5 bites, swore up and down that she took 6 bites and it got wrapped up "To Go". And yes, I used a line about "When I was a kid...."

Part two incurred back at the hotel room. Seems hubby and his oldest girl made a bargain at the souvenir shop for a Christmas ornament if the Pasty would be reheated and eaten back at the room. She soon regretted making that bargain. End result: much whining, sighing, arm throwing up in the air, crying and "I just can't do it". No eating. No ornament. PJ's. Bedtime.

10:16

2006-07-17T14:01:00.000-04:00

One year ago today, at 10:16 a.m., my baby girl was born. Now look at her, getting so big and independent. She was more interested in the wrapping paper than the Elmo tub toy it enclosed this morning. And then she went on to walking over to the back door, playing with Zoe's collar and trying to stuff it into her mouth when she thought I wasn't watching. :)

I've be playing out our labor and delivery adventure in my head the past two days. At 8 p.m. on Saturday night I thought about my labor pains kicking in and finally hanging around after many false starts. When I woke up Sunday morning my thoughts went to all the time I spent in the shower on the birth ball, never wanting to get out because the hot water was soothing the excrutiating back labor. My water broke in the shower at some point during that long day. Then at 4 p.m., I had vivid memories of being in a Morphine sleep but still feeling and breathing through every contraction for 4 hours. It was at some point during this time period that my Mom came into the room and told me I didn't have to tough it out anymore. Let them give me the epidural. Please take care of yourself. I had been in labor for 24 hours.

10 p.m. last night, while I watched the Tour de France in bed, my mind wandered again to thoughts of finally agreeing to Pitocin and an epidural. I hadn't progressed past 4 cm, contractions still stuck at 4 minutes apart and I was dead tired. They broke the rest of my water (YIKES!), gave me the epidural (didn't hurt at all) and we waited to see if the Pitocin would help.

At 9:45 a.m., we made the decision to do the C-section. Throughout the night I got a fever, they became concerned about the baby, my contractions never progressed and even though I went up to 5 cm, I had gone back down to 4 cm.

Lickety-split, they upped my epidural lever, wheeled me into the O.R., got hubby into scrubs, got me straped to the table (shaking like a leaf at this point), a push and a pull and out came my beautiful screaming baby girl as Dr. H. said, "Look at those big cheeks!". 8 lb 10 oz, 21 1/4 inches long. Posterior. Yep, sideways. 38 hours 16 minutes after it all started.

2006-07-12T21:37:00.000-04:00

Crossing back from da U.P.

(My attempt to post on vacation. Extended service = roaming = I'm not paying = posted close to home)

Vacation, all I ever wanted....

2006-07-07T09:36:00.000-04:00

Vacation
Had to get away
Vacation
Meant to be spent alone

- Go Gos

Photo credit to: http://www.aerialgraphics.com/

The last line doesn't apply to me, because we are going on a family vacation. But nonetheless, we want to get away and it's what we want. I'm not sure how all this toting around a 1 year old and sightseeing works yet, but I'm about to find out real quick. And why has packing and planning this trip made my stress level jump out of my skin? Because I have to think of everything. What to pack, make sure it gets packed, what to do, where to go, when to go, how to save money, how to keep Sofia napping so we don't end up with a crank the whole trip and anything else in between. Hubby says, don't worry. I'm worried.

At least the first three days will be spent up on Lake Huron at my family cottage. I know how to get around there and it's like a second home to me. Going up to Mackinac Island will be the tough part. I know. Relax. I'm trying, I really am.

Last night I was thinking about how I wouldn't be able to blog for a week and half. I should be content to give up technology for a week, right? Well, then I remembered that my cool new Motorola Razr can do internet access and Blogger makes it easy to post from a cell phone. So, I'm going to attempt to do it at least once while we are gone. I'm hoping to take a picture of The Mighty Mac (Mackinac Bridge) and blog a few inspirational words. We'll see if make good on that statement. :)

Until then, stay safe and I hope everyone out there has great summer weather and even better summer fun.

Temper Temper

2006-07-06T10:27:00.000-04:00

My daughter turned into the screaming, crying, wailing, back-arching I'm-not-getting-my-way toddler that she aspires to be last night. It was really over nothing. Or at least I thought it was nothing. But in the mind of an almost one-year-old, it was BIG.

It all stems from the latest trend involved with learning to walk. She is doing really great on her own, but now prefers to hold my hand and walk all over the house for what seems like hours on end. If I let go of her hand, a meltdown ensues.

Last night, the scenario played out like that, but the meltdown was huge. I'm talking 15 minutes of screaming and wailing. Nothing made it right. Not giving her my hand back, or trying to distract her, feed her, hold her tight, rock her, put her down on the carpet or pick her back up. Finally, I pull out one of her spoons from the utensil drawer and give it to her and start showing her her dinner and she stops. By then the snot running down her face and onto her shirt has set some kind of world record for length and consistency. But a few fought off Kleenex wipes take care of it and next thing you know I've got her into the highchair and she eating her dinner. And happy. Just then, hubby walks in from work. She's all smiles. Funny how that works.

As much as I love the fact that my baby girl is walking and wants to walk with me, I'm getting to the point where I want to make my hands disappear to her eyes so I can avoid these meltdowns. Every time I pull my finger away from her tiny grip, she gets the pouty lip and tears in her eyes, my heart breaks a little bit because I'm pulling myself away from her. But in reality, the laundry isn't getting done and dinner won't magically cook itself if momma is taking baby hikes around the first floor all evening. And when there's an empty tummy, then I'll really have a meltdown on my hands.

Wisdom Teeth musings

2006-07-05T16:11:00.000-04:00

First of all, let me just say that the pain associated with having all four wisdom teeth pulled is nothing compared to labor pain. That being said, I did enjoy Vicodin for about 3 days until the itching from it drove me batty and was almost worse than the nawing ache in my face, jaw and neck. So I switched to Extra Strength Tylenol by Saturday evening before I clawed my skin off.

I also have to say that having a face that is uber sensitive to being touched has really paid off when Sofia has been up two out of the past six nights. I can't really take care of a flailing, crying, squirming baby when even the slightest whack to my face sends pain shooting into my skull. So, all these months that hubby has slept through my endless nights awake with her is reaping some payback. The "you were up with her last night???" look now belongs to me. Ok not really, because I can't sleep if I hear her crying but I can at least doze in between the crying from the other room instead of being awake the entire time.

It will be a week tomorrow that I had those suckers pulled and I'm still eating soft, liquidy food. Frankly, it sucks. I've tried other stuff, but I have to take such small bites and it takes so long to chew that it's almost not worth it. I'd give anything for a big old cheeseburger, fries and an Oberon. We're leaving for vacation on Friday and I keep wondering if I'm going to have to pack baby food for Sofia and cases of Ensure and Mott's applesauce for myself. And you'd think after 6 days of eating mush I'd have the last 5 pounds of baby fat gone, but nooooooo, I've only dropped two pounds. What is up with that?

The best way to describe myself right now is slightly chipmonky, with yellow bruising in small pockets on the jawline which extends down the throat in a 'V' shape and extends partially down the chest. How I ended up with bruising on my chest is beyond me. I look more like the airbag went off in my car. At my follow-up appointment tomorrow, I'm thinking that I'll ask the oral surgeon if he had brace himself with the left elbow on my chest while he pulled with the right hand or if either foot was involved. Do you think he'll find it funny?

Obsession No. 2

2006-06-28T15:18:00.000-04:00

I'll let the photo's tell the story of Obsession No. 2.:

Ok, so the last picture doesn't really show her playing in the dog's water dish, but going for the food dish instead, but trust me, the water dish is the obsession. But this morning when I was trying to document it, not interested in the least. Go figure. Weeks and weeks of repeating "No Sofia" or removing her and sticking her into the penalty box (Pack-n-Play) for not minding my repeated removals/No commands and this morning, she actually listened to me when I wanted to show to the world her obsession. Honestly, I think she was more interested in my lens cap.

I won't be around for a couple days because tomorrow I'm getting all four wisdom teeth pulled. Yes, I know, yuck. I've been avoiding it for 5 years, so now I must pay the piper. I'll try to blog this weekend from my shitty dial-up connection at home and relay what it's like to take care of a 11 month old when you look like a chipmonk.

A prelude to Obsession No. 2

2006-06-27T14:20:00.000-04:00

Caption this photo: You're not going to chase me with that car, are ya?

No Zoe, I'm not going to chase you with the car, but others will. Hubby, step-daughter and now Sofia like to torture poor old Zoe with anything baby that has wheels. The car in the photo, Sofia's walk behind lawn mower, her scooter or her Wiggles car are all a weapon of choice at one time or another. Have wheels, will torture. Poor dog is going to have a heart attack one of these days when one of these things comes rolling towards her.

It's a good thing she's such a good dog and puts up with it all. The second they stop the torture, she actually snuggles up to them for even more attention. It's like she hates it and loves it all at the same time.

Sofia just loves Zoe. She crawls (and now kinda walks) after her giggling, screaming and exclaiming, "Zo Zo! Zo Zo! Zo Zo!". I feel pretty darn lucky to have a dog that puts up with it all and just tries to get out of Sofia's way. Actually, Sofia's keen interest in Zoe leads right down the path to Obsession No. 2. And it's actually not that far away from the dishwasher. But I'm going to make you wait until tomorrow to explain. (More like, I forgot the CF disk with the photos.)

Obsession No. 1

2006-06-26T10:45:00.000-04:00

Notice the determined look on Sofia's face? She's concentrating really, really hard on getting into what we'll categorize as Obsession No. 1. As soon as the click of the door latch echoes throughout the first floor and she is within earshot, she makes a beeline towards Obsession No. 1. What is it, you ask?

The dishwasher. It doesn't matter if I'm loading or unloading. She HAS to march right over and play with the trays. Or take her hand and swish around any water that has spilled out of the coffee cup concaves onto the lower door. It's gotten to the point that if she is in the family room playing, I'll try to open the door as quietly as I can and perform stealth loading and unloading. Sometimes, I'll even open the door, take out as much as I can in 10 seconds (as she's crawling over upon hearing my feeble attempt at stealthiness), close the door, put said items away, remove her and start the process all over again.

It's hard to get mad at her, when I know she's just being curious. Trays that slide in and out, plastic cups, utensils, bowls and water are way more interesting than any toy she could possibly have in the family room. I'm hoping this obsession with the dishwasher carries over until she's old enough to put to work. First household chore: emptying and loading the dishwasher! I'll even buy her a special Sofia step-stool to reach the high cupboards. :)

Lastly, a quick update from my post on Friday about this past weekend being the weekend. The weather cooperated, drills, hammers and saws were in full operating force and this where we stand as of 4 p.m. yesterday. Not too shabby. We have issues with the lumber that was delivered from Menards, but that deserves a full blog entry after the issues get resolved when we make a trip to the customer service counter very soon.

This is the weekend

2006-06-23T14:59:00.000-04:00

The weekend has finally arrived. As in, the weekend that our deck gets built. We've been prepping the back of the house for 2 months. More like hubby has been prepping it for 2 months, but regardless, we're finally going to have a deck. Let me just say this, "YAYYYYYYYYYY!!!!!"

Visions of eating outside during the summer, spending hours looking up at the stars or taking an hour here or there to enjoy a good book have been meandering through my head since we started building the house. (Note: the aforementioned activities can only happen 4 months out of the year, if we're lucky.) We planned the house so that we could be out there and still keep an eye on the kids playing in backyard. Or have easy access to them if they get a cut or scrape and need our attention fast. Right now, we'd have to go out the side door and navigate the retaining wall to get to them. Not that there's a swing set or anything like that out there, but you know, the ideal of being able to have easy access is a big comfort.

Actually, I have a perfect example why the deck will be a good thing. My brother is bringing up his 10 year old, and hubby's brother is bringing up his 7 year old to hang with my 8 year old step-daughter this weekend while they (brother, brother-in-law) help hubby build the deck. I plan on sticking the new Slip-n-Slide out in the yard and telling them to have at it. If there are any injuries like I used to get on a Slip-n-Slide as a kid, I'll be rushing out the side door and around the retaining wall with band-aids and ice in no time.

Curiosity

2006-06-22T08:46:00.000-04:00

This is one of the latest Sofia trends. Curious about everything and anything, she systematically takes almost every single toy out of the toybox (a plastic Sterlite storage bin) and tosses them out around her. It's a good thing that most of the toys are hand-me-downs and have seen better days already. Once she is buried in toys and can't move, I hear the whining that represents "Help me!" start to rev up. So I go over and put everything back in and she'll just smile at me and start all over again. I'm sure this is a trend that will last for many years.

The bathtub is another place of exploration for little Ms. Sofia. She is fascinated by the diverter and sticks her finger up inside the faucet to make it pop up and down. I'm sure she could sit there well beyond the water getting cold and poke that thing. She loves her bath time, that's for sure. So much that when I lift up the drain plug to let the water out, she hustles over and pushes it back down again to stop the water and then turns to me flashing that big "Ah-HAH!" smile. I suppose this is what happens when you start swimming lessons with your kid when she's 6 months old. :) I'm having visions of her after she starts walking some more, toddling around the yard, stomping in every puddle, regardless of it's mud content, screaming "Water!!!!".

Why is the sky blue?

2006-06-20T14:27:00.000-04:00

Why is the sky blue?

1. Because yesterday, it started out blue, then got ugly. The rain came and filled up all the post holes that hubby dug on Sunday to get ready for our deck construction this weekend. Poor thing was standing out there last night wearing waders and dipping a sump pump in and out of 8 holes, only to have 2 of them fill right back up minutes later.

2. Because today, hubby is installing the posts in the above mentioned holes and needs the sun to help dry out the rain soaked ground.

3. Because today, after work, I want take a long stroll with my beautiful daughter.

4. Because later tonight, I want to watch the sunset with hubby and thank him for his hard work.

5. And Because tomorrow, it's supposed to rain again, so we deserve to see the blue sky today.

Body image

2006-06-19T15:17:00.000-04:00

As I sit here and sip on my Black Cherry Vanilla Coca-Cola that I bought after lunch, I'm feeling very guilty about the whole thing. My Nalgene, still 3/4 full with water, sits just beyond the 20 oz bottle of Coke piling on the guilt for neglecting it and choosing a sugar and calorie filled alternative. Not even snacking on some cantaloupe earlier makes me feel better. Nor the fact that I had a healthy lunch today.

I am very self-conscience of my body image. About 6 years ago, I lost 28 pounds and was in the best shape of my life. Granted it was divorce induced weight loss, but I did it nonetheless. Right before Sofia was conceived, I had put on about 5 - 10 pounds and sat at around 120 pounds. So now that I'm around 124 most of the time I should be happy, right? Nope. I still feel like I HAVE to lose those last 4 pounds or even more to be acceptable. I mean, you see celebrity moms and other moms at the mall who look like they never had a baby. I should be able to fit into my size 4's again right now! Sigh.

So I'm very aware of everything that I eat and feel incredibly guilty when I have a late night snack (or anything after 8 pm), when I hit the Micky D's drive-thru or stop at Dunkin Donuts. These are not regular events. I went to Dunkin Donuts last Friday for only the second time in six months. Still I feel like if I indulge anymore than that, the next time I get pregnant, it'll be even harder to loss the weight. I got enough grief from some family members for gaining 45 pounds with Sofia. A lot of it was water and baby, but as I look at the Coke in front of me, I hear the echoes of my ex-husband in my head saying one of his patented morale boosting comments to me, "A moment on the lips, forever on the hips." I can't believe I still let the shit bother me.

*Disclaimer for current hubby: He's awesome about my body image. Probably the best thing for me because he makes it so easy to feel good about myself.

The Food Issue

2006-06-15T12:12:00.000-04:00

Last night, I went to Main Dish. It's one of those "come and make a bunch of dinners ahead of time, stick them in your freezer to save time" places. It was my third visit and let me just say the hour and fifteen minutes I spend there is money well spent both in time savings, money savings and "what do you want for dinner...I don't know, what do you want" savings.

As hubby was helping me unload the food and stuff them in our freezer we started talking about what I had prepared and how it all sounded so good. I then made the point that I try to pick out things that I think his daughter will eat. (She's a very picky eater) His response, as usual, was that she just has to eat what's in front of her...too bad. So here's the issue: How do other parents deal with picky eaters? Do they cater to the kids whims or play tough love and make them eat what's presented to them? When I was a kid (yep, I'm using that line already) we had to eat whatever Mom made whether we ate it with everyone else at the table or if we sat there for the next 45 minutes picking at it while it (usually Lima beans or peas) got cold and disgusting. No passes for us. So do I take that stance with Sofia if she gets picky? Or do I cave and fix her chicken strips and mac-n-cheese every night? Some of the so-called experts say as long as they are eating parents should be happy. I think that if I wasn't forced to eat all my veggies as a kid, I wouldn't be as willing to try different things as an adult now. I guess I just answered my own questions, but the proof will be in the pudding won't it?

Speaking of food, am I the only one who is in love with Sun Chips? I like every variety. I like them with my lunch, for an afternoon snack purchased from a vending machine at work, for a late night snack, for an on-the-go snack and every time I think about what a great invention they are. I picked up the new flavor "Garden Salsa" late last week and I've been savoring every last chip.

Writers Block

2006-06-14T12:22:00.000-04:00

It was earlier last week, when I had to write a report for a project that I'm involved in at work, that I realized just how bad my professional writing skills have become. Years of just doing email or posting on message boards has made the section of my brain delegated to "proper English for business" get stale and defunct. I literally spent about 5 hours one day struggling to get out three paragraphs of a two page report. Part of the problem is that my job doesn't require reports or things like that on a daily, or really, weekly basis. I'm a techy. I just "do". Not write. So to sit down at the computer and describe what I did on this project, from a technical stand point, was a struggle.

Now, blog writing. That's been easy. As I said to a friend earlier today, "It's like being 13 again and I've got this diary to express all my daily experiences and random thoughts that I have throughout the day." When I sit down at the computer to blog, it just flows. That is really comforting to me. Of course, when I was 13, I hid my diary in my desk and kept it under lock and key for fear my parents would find it. Not now. I may as well be naked for the Internet world to see. (Kidding Mom. Really)

A Day Off. What to do...

2006-06-13T17:11:00.000-04:00

I have some personal time to use up by the end of the month, so I've decided to take it on Friday. It'll give me an entire day off from work. Sounds great, right? Well, let me tell you what I did on my last day off. I painted. Yep, I got up the same time, took the kid to daycare and came home and painted our mudroom. It's the only way I can get anything done in a prolonged stretch of time.

If I don't do it this way, then I end up with a scenario like last weekend:

Put the kid down for her nap, make sure she's asleep, rush outside, grab my garden gloves, grab the wheelbarrel, rush to the front of the house, pull weeds like a mad woman for 45 minutes, dump the weeds several times, clean up, fold the laundry, start another load of laundry, sweep the floor and squeeze in one last thing while the kid is semi-crying up in her room. All in an hour and 15 minutes. Tops.

So this Friday, what will I be doing? Organizing our mudroom closet and the laundry room. Both have been a muddled mess since we moved into the house a little over a year ago. I'd like to actually use the counter in the laundry room to fold clothes sometime in this decade. But for that to happen, I have to sort through the bags of stuff my husband has dropped there and sort through bins of other stuff. (Stuff = Miscellaneous crap that was put in the bins because they had no place else to go)

No relaxing and sipping latte's at my favorite coffee shop here. I admit it, I'm a workaholic. But doing something to improve the house helps me feel a little less guilty for not keeping the kid home with me. If I was at a coffee shop lazing around, the guilt meter would be off the charts.

Terrible Ones?

2006-06-12T09:14:00.000-04:00

We had some friends over for a BBQ yesterday and it was Sofia's first chance in a long time to "play" with a kid close to her age, since the next oldest at daycare is 19 months old. Overall, things went well I thought. A few moments of "I want what you have even though it's the same thing as I have" or "I don't care if we each have our own push cars, I want yours", but towards the end of the visit, she just kind of went her own way and played off by the toy box.

But I always have this fear in the back of my head that I'll have "that kid". You know, the one who bully's the toys away from other kids, bites, scratches, pinches and disrespects any and all authority. Is this an irrational fear? Perhaps. However this is me we are talking about. The one who takes things too personally since having given birth. So my daughter's refusal to leave the dog's water dish alone or the dishwasher trays after multiple removals and "No Sofia" commands is a sure sign in my warped head that she'll be "that kid".

On another note, I've been making good on the promise to myself to start reading for pleasure again. My first venture is Marrit Ingman's "Inconsolable. How I Threw My Mental Health Out with the Diapers." Although I can't relate to her PPD battles or insanely difficult time with her son "Baldo", halfway through the book I've been agreeing with her assessment of Dr. Sears, nodding my head about the stigma out there for having a C-section and realizing we've both read the same sleep solution books. It's really nice to relate to someone, even if it's a complete stranger.

The Jinx

2006-06-09T10:56:00.000-04:00

This is how the jinx works.

Question from well meaning relative, friend, co-worker, stranger: Does she sleep the whole night?

My answer: Most of the time.

The jinx: That same night, she will be up, want to stay up and anywhere from and hour or two later, she'll finally go back to sleep. And be cranky in the morning.

It's gotten to the point where I don't even want to acknowledge the question. Usually a shrug of the shoulders or a "Maybe" is what they get.

The jinx works the same way the sportscaster jinx works.

Sportscaster says: He hasn't missed a free throw in 20 games!! You gotta believe in this clutch situation, he's the best guy to go to the foul line.

The jinx happens: Player proceeds to missed both free throws and is no longer clutch. Team loses.

I had one relative start to ask me about her sleep patterns and I did the ole "Zip-it" motion and noise from Austin Powers. Yes, I'm a jinx believing weirdo.

I've probably jinxed her sleep for tonight, just by writing this.

Come to Mommy!

2006-06-08T10:02:00.000-04:00

She did it! From his crouched postion, hubby held Sofia between his knees and I positioned myself about 3 feet away in the same position with my hands out. After a lot of bouncing up and down, she steadied herself and walked into my waiting hands. Yes, I had tears of joy. Especially after she did it twice. It's moments like this that make the battle the night before get erased from my mental chalkboard.

Her big sis comes tonight for the first of our six weeks of summer parenting time. It always starts out really good, but by the end of the summer she's ready to go back to school and back to being with her Mom the majority of the time. She and her Dad are so much alike. I don't think I need to say anything else about that for you to get the picture.

I used to read on blended family message boards how I'd feel different about my own child than I did about my step-daughter once I became a Mom. I didn't know what they meant, but now I do. Don't get me wrong, I love my step-daughter to death, but it is different.

Speaking of different, I'm sure some of my feelings come from the fact the rules aren't the same for my step-daughter as they are for our daughter. Case in point, hubby doesn't want step-daughter dropped off at summer camp until after 8:30 a.m. and picked up early, but it's ok for our daughter to get dropped off at daycare at 8:00 (or before) and picked up at 5:30 p.m. It's too long for her, but ok for our girl. I sense a battle coming on Sunday night.

Murphy's Law

2006-06-07T09:42:00.000-04:00

No sooner do a make a post about Sofia not walking and what does she do? She takes three steps last night while her Dad was home with her and I was at Kohl's buying Pj's after I got out of work at 8 pm. Of course, it was motivated by something she wanted and not my husband's pursuasion, but that is all part of Murphy's Law and his intrusion into my life. The one night I'm not home with her and she reaches a milestone. C'est la vie, right?

But then I suppose she tried to make up for time lost with me at 2:40 a.m. when my best efforts to get her back to sleep for 50 minutes were met with a giggle and then a cry just when I thought I had won the battle. That's when I had to fight the urge to go grab her, bring her into bed with us and whip out the boob. I fought it and instead, poked her Dad, told him it was his turn and you might want to take a bottle with you. So he did and at some point after 4 a.m., he came back to bed and she was asleep. Then when I couldn't get up this morning I was reminded that I couldn't use the "I was up with her and you weren't " excuse anymore with him since he was up also. Shit. I like that excuse.

While I was rocking my very awake daughter last night, I was amazed at how alive my thoughts were about anything from a lost friendship with a college roommate, an email that I need to write at work the next day, what to do this weekend with my step-daughter while her dad is at work and why am I thinking about all of this at 3:00 a.m. Maybe Sofia sensed my active synapes and thought if it's ok for Mom, it's ok for me.

Is she walking yet?

2006-06-06T15:51:00.000-04:00

That is the question that I hear everyday when I get asked about Sofia. My answer, "No, no, not yet." "Soon I bet", is the usual response. Truth is, I'm not in a big hurry to have my little girl toddling around getting into even more things at her 28 1/2 inch level. The poor thing hears "No Sofia" more times in a typical day than Brittany Spears hear the clicks of the paparazzi photographer's cameras as they follow her around waiting for her next "bad Mom" move.

As an aside, I'm no Brittany Spears fan, but I would hate for these hangers-on to come by my house at any given moment and start clicking away. I'd be dead in the tabloid water

So, no she isn't walking yet, she still eats No. 3 foods from Gerber more than I like and I've started weaning her from the last breastfeeding session that I've been hanging onto for 3 months now out of pure laziness. It has been so much easier to grab her at 5 a.m. and bring her into bed to breastfeed and go back to sleep until the alarm roars at 6:20 a.m. than get up and feed a bottle. It took me 8 months to get her to sleep until 5 a.m., I think I deserve a little slack in the weaning department.

It really is amazing how critical I've become of myself since becoming a Mom. I mean, I was hypercritical before, but now it's as if everything that Sofia does is a reflection of me and only me. Screw her Dad, it must have come from me, especially if she's pitching a fit in Old Navy when I try to take away the pink shoes she's grabbed. Is it hormone thing? Mom thing? Just about to turn 34 thing? I don't know, but it's really annoying.