Awkward moment of the year...

I'm at my OB-GYN's office this morning for my annual exam/pap. The doctor and I chat for a few, then she gets down to business.

Legs are spread, speculum is inserted, and she says.... "Hello, cervix that wouldn't open!" (Pretty sure it's not going to answer you, lady!)

Um, she wasn't even the doctor that examined/delivered me last year. They gave me Cervadil last year and then decided half an hour after that that my platelets and liver were not doing well and that there wasn't enough time to start an induction and I had a c-section. Did they all get together and discuss my closed cervix last year?

It's either that or there was a note tucked up in my lady bits alluding to this fact.

At least there wasn't an echo.

That New Baby Smell

I loves it. Not the smelly lotions or detergents, but straight-up clean baby. It's intoxicating. I could sit and smell Sir for hours. Creepy much?

Or I used to. Because now he's lost that new baby smell. And now, at any given moment, he is more likely to smell like Cheerios and apple juice. Which isn't necessarily a BAD smell, it just isn't the same. And it reminds me that Sir is growing up, against my express wishes. I mean, I thought we discussed his growing. And I thought we were on the same page, meaning he wouldn't. He seems to be ignoring me. A sign of things to come?

Vacation Chronicles

This is way late. We've been back for almost a month. It just took me a while to recover. But now that I have, I bring you... THE VACATION CHRONICLES.

Ryan got sent to Switzerland for a week for work. We decided he would take a week of vacation, and we'd all fly over for 2 weeks and make a nice family trip out of it. We got Sir his passport (he is 6 months old in the picture. It's good for 5 years). We purchased tickets. We figured things out.

I was surprised that Sir was fairly reasonable on the plane. I tried like a madwoman to get an infant dosage for Children's Benadryl, but no one would give it to me, since it has a heavy sedation effect. No shit, people. I don't plan on drugging my baby every night, but I figure spending 8 hours on a plane is a special occasion. So, no drugs. He slept most of the way anyway, had a short fussy period about halfway through. There were a handful of other small children on the flight, and naturally we were all within a few rows of each other. It was a domino effect. One baby would get fussy and set all the other babies off. Luckily, Sir is cute and no one blamed him.

Sir has also decided that the flight was the perfect time to begin to refuse nursing. I could not convince him to nurse. Not the hugest deal in the world, I packed a few bottles to take with me, but have you ever tried pumping in an airport bathroom? Or even better, the airplane bathroom? It doesn't work. I tried. I couldn't relax. So by the time we got to the hotel in Switzerland I was tired AND had rock hard boobs that deserved their own graphic novel depiction.

The first few nights were hairy. Sir could not wrap his head around the time change. So at 1 am, he was wide awake and HUNGRY for dinner. Oh, and did I mentioned cranky? Yeah, we figured that out the first day when I looked in his mouth and found a new tooth.

4 days into the trip I woke up with a stuffy nose and scratchy throat. Great, a cold. Just what I need. DH was working all day, leaving me alone in a foreign country to wrangle a cranky Sir and only CNN International to keep me company. No problem, I can take some Sudafed and power through. I am Mom, I can do it.

No. That was apparently not enough challenge, because I also woke up with a fire in my crotch. Yes, it's true, I have my very first yeast infection. My joy knew no bounds.

Also no problem, you must be thinking. Go get yourself some Monistat! Well, I tried. Went to the pharmacy, fought my way past the 3000 square feet of makeup and perfumes, and found the 2 aisles dedicated to maladies. I spend about 30 minutes staring at what I can only assume is the feminine products section (everything is in French or German, neither of which I speak).

Now here is my dilemma. I am loathe to pick something off the shelf willy-nilly. I'm afraid I'll end up sticking Ben-Gay up my hoo-ha. At the same time, I don't want to try to ask the 20 year old "pharmacist" with microscopic pores and a body that would make Gisele Bundchen jealous what I need to buy for a yeast infection. If she can't understand what I'm trying to say I would end up miming it out in the middle of the store. I don't even know how to mime "cottage cheese vag."

So I go home, spend another night with horrible burning, poke around on Google for some French translations, and try again.

Success! I am pleased to note that 2 days before we went home, I was cold-free AND cured of the yeast infection. Sir was acclimated to the time zone.

Unfortunately, then Ryan caught the cold. And when he's sick he's about as useful as a genital wart. And in 2 days time we would hop on the plane for another 8 hours to come home. And I was pretty sure Sir was cutting another tooth (he didn't, it was a tease). And possibly also catching the cold.

Oh, by the way. The Swiss version of Monistat 7? $26. I decided it was worth it. I almost bought a pack of 30 Breathe-Right strips for $30 before deciding that was NOT worth it.

And I got all excited when we got to Zurich and there were about 12 Starbucks all over the city. And then I ordered a venti latte and almost passed out when the barista demanded $8 from me.
And then I wondered how they can call it a "venti" with a straight face in a country where Italian is actually an official language.

I wonder...

• If it is possible to live entirely on FlaVor Ice. You know, the cheap freezer pops? I've certainly been trying. I also sometimes wonder if I can successfully use them as a diet food. Like, instead of Slim Fast shakes, I eat freezer pops for breakfast, for lunch, for an afternoon snack, and then have a sensible dinner. Of freezer pops.
• How babies eat jarred baby food. I purchased some for convenience when we were going on vacation, and almost lost my lunch whenever I opened one. They smell like vomit. I can't imagine what they taste like. But I'm betting it's not like peaches. I am also a little suspicious that they are all the same color. Peaches, bananas, apples, pears, sweet potatoes, mixes, they are all the same sickly brownish-pink color.
• Why daytime TV sucks so bad. There are plenty of people who are home during the day for one reason or another, don't we deserve decent programming as well? There are only so many "Who's my baby's daddy?" Maury episodes I can watch before I want to start duct taping legs shut.
• Why I am stubbornly clinging to my gym membership under the pretense that I'm actually ever going to go again. I'm not fooling anyone, least of all my waistline. Or my checking account.

Um, Ryan? There's a dead animal on your face...

So my dear husband Ryan has a thing about shaving on vacations and weekends. As in, he doesn't. A week and a half into our Cape vacation, I was getting used to the face scruff. It's his face, and I know he'll shave it again when we get home.

Except yesterday he comes out of the shower and he's shaved a goatee out of his beard. He used to have one in college. It looked a little ridiculous... I laughed for a few minutes, snapped a picture, and went with it. He's back at work on Monday.

TODAY, he comes out of the shower and has shaved the goatee... but left the mustache. This, I did not sign on for. Ryan does not look good with a mustache. I wouldn't even talk to him until he went back into the shower and got rid of that too. He was pretty upset, but the 'stache had to go. 1992 was a long time ago.

The tub is NOT for pooping.

So this morning, I'm trying to get us ready so we can head over and watch Ryan's lacrosse games. I need to shower, so I grab Sir's bathtub and stick it in the big tub and stand in front of it. I'm showering, Sir is splashing happily.

I'm standing there with one leg shaved and conditioner in my hair, and all of a sudden Sir leans forward, grabs the front of his tub (for leverage? Support?) and starts POOPING. WTF??? What do I do now?

I finished shaving the other leg (in a hurry, I'm sure I missed entire areas) and rinsed out the conditioner, then I picked up Sir and gave him a quick rinse, and then we got out. I stuck a diaper on him, put him in his crib, and gave his tub a quick wipe.... and then I left the poopy tub for Ryan to clean out when he finished lacrosse.

Lions and Tigers and... WTF is THAT?!?!?

Okay, so there have been quite a few sightings of bears in my yard in the past few weeks, including one by yours truly. I was standing in my dining room and happened to glance out the bay window, and HOLY CRAP it was RIGHT THERE!!!! lumbering across our front yard and driveway. It was frakkin' HUGE.

Then my neighbor flags me down a week or so later and tells me she saw another one in our yard that afternoon (except it was a "little" bear. which means "big" bear is close behind). This is the neighbor that just moved in a few months ago with two cats and is now down to one. They also moved in with 3 children. I'm keeping track of those guys too.

I'm afraid to go outside. Even to get my mail. I have no idea what to do in case of bear interaction. Luckily for me, Google auto-complete is there to help me out:

The website I found: http://www.wikihow.com/Escape-from-a-Bear

does not seem all that helpful. Step 1 - avoid the bear if at all possible. Difficult if I am in my own front yard. Step 2 - Keep your distance. See Step 1. Step 3 - Stand tall. Apparently I am to communicate that I am human? And call the bear's bluff if it charges me? Fat chance if I'm holding Sir. Step 4 - Know your bear. This step goes on to differentiate the 3 different type of bears but tells me nothing on how my bear will act. Helpful. Step 5 - Understand the bear's motivation. This is where I stopped.

I really think someday I'm going to go out to the backyard to grill dinner and come across this...

and not know what to do. Offer it a steak?

I Had to POAS...

And THANK GOD it was negative. Seriously. I was about to crap a brick. The rational part of my brain knew that the likelihood that I was preggers again was slim to none (I'm still exclusively breastfeeding, and we're using birth control) but after having 2 straight periods and then being late for one... I was fairly concerned.

I made R take me to Target and then peed in her bathroom. I thought about leaving it on the counter to give her husband J a heart attack, and then decided that wouldn't be nice. Instead I left it sitting nice & pretty in my bathroom trash at home to give MY DH a heart attack :) Sadly, he is remarkably unobservant and did not notice.

I will want another child at some point, but I need some time to pass from the awful newborn/infant phase so I forget how horrible it was before I'm willing to start trying. I also want to be free from pregnancy/breastfeeding (or at least mostly) for my 30th birthday.

But speaking of Target, this trip was my first trip there in maybe a month. I can't believe I held out that long! And of course, I managed to spend $100. Considering I only went there for a pregnancy test and some Father's Day cards, I have no idea how I ended up spending that much. Of course, I picked up Ryan's Father's Day gift. I felt a little weird... I'm going to give it to him like "Here you go, honey, do you like what I bought you with your money?" I'm still getting used to this whole SAHM, not earning my own $$ thing.

You Might Be a Douchebag If...

I was thinking to myself today, "wouldn't it be fantastic if douchebags had that word tattooed on their forehead as a warning sign to the rest of us?"

Yes, yes it would be. However, since I doubt this will ever happen, I've created a mental list of external signs that warn of incoming douches. They are as follows (including but not limited to):

1. People that clip their cellphones/pagers/etc. to the waistband of their pants. No one cares how important you think you are.

2. Popped collars. Are you trying to keep the breeze off your neck?

3. Teenagers that have handbags more expensive than my monthly car payment. You didn't buy that for yourself. Get a real job and stop mooching off Daddy.

4. Mothers that insist on lining store carriages with those ridiculous fabric pouches. Your kid's been ingesting far worse than what's on the handle while you're gabbing away on your cell phone and not paying attention. Are you planning on encasing them in a giant hamster bubble when you send Precious off to kindergarten?

5. Anyone driving a Porsche Cayenne. A Porsche SUV? Beyond pointless. Get over yourself.

6. Drivers that can't be bothered to observe the painted lines when parking.

7. Fat people that don't try to help themselves. I'll come out and say it, I'm not afraid. Fat people annoy me. I've been there. I've had friends that have been there. We've gotten rid of the weight. You can do it too. Repeat after me: "I will put the fork down."

8. Using cell phones to talk/text/email/web surf in a restaurant. Learn some manners and show your dining companion some respect.


That's all for the moment... I'm sure I'll think of more. Feel free to comment.

Someone give me a job at the CIA...

Is it just me, or is anyone elses faith in our intelligence community shaken by the fact that we get updates from Al Qaeda's website?? That's right, folks, I just saw on the news that the death of some number 3 Al Qaeda guy was confirmed by their website. I thought these people were living in mud huts and crapping in holes in the ground. They have access to the internets?? I wonder if they have 3G.

Next thing you know we're going to be following leads posted on Bin Laden's blog.

Um, no, I'm not pregnant. I had my baby 5 months ago.

So, I'm meeting my mom and my sister A for pedicures the other night. I'm super psyched because I haven't had a pedicure since I was about 6 months pregnant and OMG my feet were needing one desperately. I'm pretty sure my heels could have been used to carve rocks.

I dropped Sir off with my dad, and we head on out to enjoy some nice relaxing pampering. I'm sitting in the nice massaging chair, minding my own business, chatting with Mom & A, and the lady doing my pedicure looks at me out of the blue and says "Are you pregnant?" ...

Um, NO. But thanks. Thanks for noticing that I still look like I'm carrying Sir's unborn twin. I'm super glad that the past 3 months of dieting and walking 5 miles a day has paid off. At least my legs look good from all that walking, right?

No. Two minutes after Asian lady stuck the first foot in her mouth, she opens even wider and says "You have a lot of bruises on your legs." Great. While not nearly as insulting as your first comment, I appreciate you noticing the fact that it looks like I have some weird blood disorder because I'm the clumsiest person on the planet.

Enjoy my feet, lady.

2 Things...

And they're entirely unrelated.

1. I hate my period. HATE. IT. Like with the burning fire of a thousand suns. I did not miss it at all while I was pregnant. Not having it was one of my pregnancy highlights. It returned last month and I was not pleased. I also felt a bit like I was 12 having my first period. I didn't know what to do! I was scrambling in my closet hoping that I had some kind of product left over from last year.

So I thought maybe it was a fluke last month and it wouldn't come back this month, but don't you know? Like clockwork. There it is.

I'm a little angry. I'm still exclusively breastfeeding Sir and for many mothers, AF doesn't come back until the baby is weaned. Not so in my case. Mother Nature has it in for me.

It's not easy for me to find time to pee, much less take care of other business. This is not convenient for me.


2. There was a giant black bear in my front yard tonight!!! I was standing in the dining room talking to Ryan, happened to look out the big bay window, and BAM! Literally 5 feet away lumbering through!!! I tried to get a picture, but by the time I grabbed the camera and got the door open, it was already across the street in the neighbor's yard.

I knew there were bears in the neighborhood (last I heard there were about 7), but I've never seen one in the five years we've been here. Normally they don't come over to our side of the street, they spend their time in the woods on the ridge across from us.

But holy crap! There it was tonight! It was huge! Almost gave me a heart attack since I was NOT expecting to see a bear when I looked out the window!

Okay, that's all. Time for me to pack so I can head up to the Cape with R and the babes for a few days!

I Hate My Diaper Bag

Hate. It. It's really cute. But so so so impractical. It's a kate spade, I got it last year at the Wrentham outlets for half off. But, oh, the things you don't realize before you have kids.

First of all, it leaves pink streaks on my car every time it happens to hit the exterior. Like if I'm squeezing through the garage with the car seat and diaper bag. PINK STREAKS. ON MY CAR.

It doesn't have very many pockets. 2 exterior, but the exterior material is really stiff and I can't fit too much in them. They're also not large. 4 on the inside, and one zippered pouch. Okay. Maybe it has plenty of pockets for the normal person. But not me! I like pockets!

It doesn't close. The top gets secured by two strings that I have to tie shut. Not exactly something I feel like doing every time I have to go in there for something while I'm trying to wrangle a wriggly baby.

Plus, I'm getting past the stage where I need to pack 12 diapers and 3 backup outfits. Now all I need (unless it's an all day long excursion) are one or two diapers, a burp cloth, wipes, changing pad, and toys. The diapers, wipes, and changing pad I have in a travel pad in my car at all times. Sort of like this:

So I need something NOT HUGE, and also something that doesn't scream diaper bag. It's not easy. And I'm not exactly looking to spend hundreds of dollars.

I suppose I could start using my regular handbag. But then I realize that I haven't really purchased anything for me in like 6 months. I won't buy new clothes for me because I'm a fatass. I turned my excessive spending habits into buying clothes for Sir, and buying groceries. Probably thus contributing to me being a fatass.

*sigh* I just want a cute new diaper bag. Or handbag that will function as a diaper bag. And I would like someone to find it for me and tell me "Look! I found you a diaper bag!"

*sigh* I just want a cute new... something. I'm starting to feel like a frumpy mom. I spend most of my day in yoga pants (see: I'm a fatass); I can't remember the last time I did my hair. Showering is a luxury that I forget to do some days. I haven't had an eyebrow wax since BEFORE SIR WAS BORN. I feel like Sasquatch. Pedicure? Oh please. My feet could cut granite. Manicure? Not a chance. Sir's starting to teethe and I don't really want him eating my nail polish.

Ice Cream Cake Wednesday

For those of you that do not know, my friends R & J and I have started a lovely tradition we call Ice Cream Cake Wednesday. Every other Wednesday we get together with our husbands and split a large ice cream cake. Like such:



It is a glorious thing. And to think it all started back when I was newly pregnant and received a coupon from Stop & Shop for $3 off a Carvel cake. I thought "How nice of them!" and called R and asked her if she'd like to have ice cream for dinner. She was also either still pregnant with her daughter L or had just had her. (don't worry, when it was just the two of us we split a smaller cake)

Well. Let me tell you. That was possibly the most brilliant idea I've ever had in my life. And I'm no slouch in the brains department. We quickly decided it should become a regular event. Every week struck us as a little overboard, and probably detrimental to any weight loss/management we might be aiming for. Every other week it was. And Wednesdays just because the first ice cream cake event happened to be on a Wednesday.

So there it is. The legend that is ICCW. We've probably singlehandedly helped Carvel with their profit margin in the Northeast. And you would think that this might make us sick of ice cream cake? Not a chance. I love it just as much every time I eat it.

My First Mother's Day

Not too eventful... I didn't have to change a single diaper, which was nice. And once Sir woke up, Ryan took him out of the bedroom and let me sleep in some more. Which was SUPER nice, because I got ZERO sleep the night before.

Seriously. I was wide awake until about 5 am. Why? Because I'm crazy and think someone is going to break into our house and kill me. I was literally sitting bolt upright in bed for at least 3 hours. I made Ryan do about 4 walk-throughs of the house to make sure no one actually did break in. Didn't help. The gusting winds outside and the fact that we lost power around 1 am didn't help either.

So when I opened my Mother's Day cards, I got 2 lovely surprises. A weekend in Boston without Sir (just me & Ryan!) AND a home security system. Hopefully that will help me feel safer at night. Pretty sad that I'm so crazy I need to pay money so I can get some sleep.

Tonight Ryan offered a handgun and shooting/safety lessons instead :) I might take him up on it. It's something I've been planning on doing anyway. I would get one of those safes that attaches to the side of the bed that opens with your palm print. The safety class is at least a must since Ryan already has several in the house.

MIL also came to visit in the evening. Now, I realize that this is Ryan's mother, and it was Mother's Day, and blah blah blah. But she's done mothering. This is MY Mother's Day. And honestly, I really just didn't want to see her. I never do. She's irritating. And she makes my baby smell like old lady perfume. AND she uses baby talk, which grates on my nerves like nails on a chalkboard!!! At least she's gone from passive-aggressive backhanded comments to pretty much ignoring me completely, which is a step in the right direction!

She just so effin' nosey! She needs to know everything about our business, and my family's business. I DON'T WANT TO TELL HER. Ryan needs to stop the info train. Just because she feels the need to share her financial situation with us doesn't mean we have to do the same. Totally inappropriate in my opinion. I'll say this, however. Ryan's dad got a good divorce lawyer.

Cinco de Mayo!

Another awesome day... we went for a morning walk with R and her baby L and had breakfast at Subway. We got home and I needed to shower so we could go out again. What to do with Sir? I tried to put him in his Exersaucer - fail. He's not quite ready for it yet. He would try to put weight on his legs and end up face-planting into the toys. Needless to say, he did not enjoy it. Maybe in a week or two. So I stuck him in the crib and put on his waterfall soother:

It's totally awesome, like baby TV. He is entranced by it. I just wish it played longer than 3 minutes.

After the world's quickest shower we went to Wickham Park with my friend J and her son L, who is 2. He had a blast at the playground and the aviary, which I remember from when I was a kid! Sir was unable to fully appreciate the playground. Funny thing - Sir got hungry, so I got out my nursing cover (because he is easily distracted these days) and I was feeding him. This 4 year old boy sees me from across the playground and comes barreling over and shouts "what do you think you're doing??" and before I had a chance to respond his mom came over and grabbed him. Looking at it from a 4 year old's perspective, I don't know what he thought I was doing, what with my baby's legs hanging out from under a blanket and all.

So this evening I went out with R and G and J for margaritas in honor of Cinco de Mayo. We figured we'd try Besito, a delicious Mexican restaurant. I told R it would be packed - and sure enough, it was. She was all "but it's Wednesday night!" and I was all "um, it's Cinco de Mayo... and it's a Mexican place" and she was shocked. It's okay, we went to an Italian place first and got margaritas there. Pretty tasty.

Insomnia

What's the point of having a baby that sleeps through the night if I can't fall asleep ever anyway? So frustrating. I like sleep. But these days by the time I do fall asleep, it's only a few short hours until Sir wakes up. And then he's all "wah, Moms, I'm hungry! Feed me!" and Ryan is all "zzzzzz" and then I'm all "okay, snack bar's open...joy."

Wow, right now I'm seeing a commercial for the Shake Weight for Men. For reals? OMG. I can't believe they can show this on TV. I feel dirty.

Yet another weekend down... at least this weekend Ryan completed Part One of the Semi-Annual Lawn Mowing. Our yard was looking a bit ridiculous. I was afraid of being attacked by pumas every time I walked to the driveway.

That's all for now... I think I might actually be able to fall asleep.

First Post

And I'm not even sure what one writes about. My history? Or do I just jump right in with what's happening right now?

Right now I'm wondering why I have the world's neediest baby. And then I realize, oh right, he refuses to nap for more than half an hour and he hasn't pooped in 3 days. And really, that's enough to make anyone crabby. Especially the pooping bit. Makes me want to go take a Colace and an Ambien just thinking about it. Heck, it makes me want to give HIM a Colace and an Ambien.

So I met Ryan back in 2004. It was a blind date to my company's Christmas - oh, i'm sorry, HOLIDAY - party. The rest is history. Sir was born December 16, 2009... almost 4 weeks early due to HELLP syndrome after a fairly uneventful pregnancy. After that I rode out my maternity leave and then quit my job to become a SAHM. Which is a job in itself. And very demanding. How many of you have to wipe YOUR boss's ass 8 times a day?

I have developed a love for clipping coupons. And then forgetting to use them. And telling myself I will make dinner. And then defrosting something frozen. And saying I'm going to clean. And then making Ryan do it on weekends.

And, really, I'm too funny NOT to blog. So here it is. Have I just set myself up for certain failure? I hope not.