If you’ve ever had to endure the air travel system in the United States, you’ll get a kick out of this.
Pink Slip
Dear Headache,
We appreciate your services to Jessica’s head during this very busy week of hers. You have done your job in making mundane tasks excruciating and small annoyances the end of the world. We feel that you have gone above and beyond your expectations, and have even tried to get you to tone it down with Tylenol. Don’t laugh, she hasn’t eaten anything since Tuesday (due to the talented Mr. Stomach Virus) so we thought we’d take it easy on her stomach even though everyone knows that Tylenol only works on teething babies.
That said, the current economic crisis in this country has forced our hand to discontinue your services. We appreciate all you have done to take the joy out of her busy-ness and replace it with task-orientation, but unfortunately we cannot continue to pay you for your pain.
Thank-you for your time. A severance check will be sent to your residence, and should she have another crazy week like this in the future when times aren’t so tough, you will be the first one we call to make her miserable and wish for death.
Sincerely,
Corporate Pain
Where did she learn THAT?!
I am so glad the election is over. While I am not abandoning my political commentary (I reserve the right to rant at any time… though I am probably the only person who reads this blog who agrees with me), its time for a break. I haven’t talked about Ryan or my dog or most especially my daughter in a long time.
We finally got the new bedtime routine down. It consists of a bath, teeth brushing, pj’s, reading books and laying down with a little stuffed reindeer my grandma gave Aubrey last Christmas. She loves that thing. The only problem with this routine is that it only works when Ryan is the orchestrator of this system. If daddy is in the bathroom, Aubrey plays nicely and lets me brush her teeth and doesn’t soak my entire body with water that she splashes. If daddy is dressing her, she lays perfectly for him. If daddy is reading Fox in Socks,Aubrey will stare in wonderment at the pictures and how Ryan never stumbles over that tongue-twister of a book (“First I’ll make a quick trick brick stack, Then I’ll make a quick trick block stack…My tongue isn’t slick or quick, sir. I get all those ticks and clocks, sir, mixed up with the chicks and tocks, sir. I can’t do it, Mr. Fox, sir.”) Then she will lay down perfectly, roll onto her tummy and snooze the night away.
This opposed to the creation of a hazard zone in the bathroom from the slippery floors, the wailing and bemoaning that I should dare want her to have good dental hygiene, the constant need to twist and stand up on the changing table and peeing on me before I can get her diaper on, the closing of every book and pointing to the dog during story-time, and the instant standing up in the crib and production of the world’s largest tears when Ryan is not home to put her to bed.
Aubrey is such a daddy’s girl. That makes me happy and I complain about how hard it is for me to put her to bed in jest, but I do love it that she is so good for him. It worries me that I won’t have as much influence in her life as he does, but that may change. I wasn’t really close to either of my parents growing up and I don’t want to repeat that. Of course, when I got to college I became best pals with my dad and sister and as soon as I found out I was pregnant, I realized why my mother acted so crazy all the time. That’s what motherhood does to you. You go crazy with the amazement that this is a brand new chance to see a life built, you go crazy with worrying about your child all the time, you go crazy when they ignore you and you go crazy wondering if they will shove that karma right down your very deserving throat when they hit puberty.
Aubrey is a good kid. She is such a sweetie, and she is very loving. The older she gets the more things come out that totally throw me off. Yesterday I told her no when she was pulling all of my kitchen towels out of the drawer and she laid on the floor and pounded her fists on the ground and cried. I was like, what the heck? Who taught her how to do that? I ignored her and she stopped (is that the best thing to do in those cases? I have no clue) but still. I don’t want my kid to be that brat in the store or restaurant and people mutter to each other “I would so beat that kid’s butt if she were mine…” Parenting is hard. I had my ideals when I thought of how I would do it, but as it progresses I see the need for flexibility (gag), creativity and most of all, teamwork. I have said this before, I give props to the single parent b/c this is the hardest and most wonderful job in the world!
The random kisses she gives to the dog, the helping me “clean” or the new words she seems to utter everyday give me more joy that I thought possible. It’s even hard not to laugh sometimes when she wails and wails but no tears come out, and she throws her hands over her eyes and then peeks out from between her fingers to see if I am watching her. The kid is definetly a drama queen.
…I wonder where she got that from?
People are strange…
Well I haven’t posted in awhile because I have been busy doing lots of mundane things that aren’t worthy to write about- just living day to day life and waiting for the weekend. However, Aubrey’s first tooth has made its grand debut and I must say, she isn’t a fan and probably wishes for it to go back where it came from so she can be fed from a bottle for the rest of her life. I keep telling her that that probably won’t go over well with the fellas when she’s 15, and then Ryan tells me that we should keep bottle feeding her to keep the evil males away from his princess. I, however, am a fan of the Famous First Tooth. Its so teeny and white and cute! It kind of made me sad because its like, she’s not a baby anymore, but it also made me excited because I could see (albeit hair full of mush) in my near future a child who can feed herself.
All that to say that the tooth, it makes her chew on her fingers a lot. The child does not understand the concept of the teething ring. I have literally bought about 5 different rings- brightly colored, different textures, refrigerated, not refrigerated, Baby Einstein for crying out loud! and she just throws them to the ground because hey, she needs those fingers free for chew toys.
Yesterday Ryan brought her up to work and we all went to lunch together. While standing in line waiting for a table, a rather large older man came out the door with some other large old men and made the usual “She’s so cute!” comment to which we replied, “Thanks!” and to which Aubrey kept gnawing on her hands and drooling. Then homeboy goes “Oh! Can I suck on that finger too?”
Blink. Blink. Blink.
No you cannot suck on my 11 month old daughter’s fingers, you pedopheliac freak! Good Lord people, I mean seriously. Seriously? It was weird. People are strange. I can’t wait til she gets older so I can teach her how to give sickos like that a swift kick in the pants.
*Side note: I write this with a smile on my face bc when you get over the creepiness, its funny. And I am not going to train my child to go around kicking everyone who says she’s cute. I’m going to train her to first ask “Are you a democrat?” and then she can use her own judgement on how many times they need to be kicked*
I’ll never sit still again
Miss Cat has decided that crawling is FUN! SUPER! FUN! and she can GET! OVER THERE! QUICKLY! While it never fails to amaze me when she discovers something new about life (you forget that you had to learn how to do everyday things, like walking and putting a spoon to your mouth without getting sweet potato mush all in your hair), this particular feat has left me tired and a nervous wreck. Good for the calves, though.
I used to worry that she would suffocate herself when I’d walk into her room in the morning and her head would be under her blankie. Until she’d hear me walk in and pull it down and giggle at me. Like, hello mommy, I have been waiting for you to come play peek-a-boo with me. Now I worry that she will stick her fingers in the oscilating fan (part of my “green” attempt to lower energy use and turn the AC up to 80 at night… not working out for my sweaty self) or that she will pull the entire wine rack/cookbook shelf over on herself. I watch Greys Anatomy, people, I know what bookshelves can do to unsuspecting toddlers just trying to get a drink to go with their pureed green beans.
Needless to say, life is never boring now. I felt like I was always running with something to do until I got home at the end of the day before, but now I spend my time at home juggling chores with making sure she doesn’t mistake the dog food for her organic maple teething biscuits. Ryan is a little more laid back about it than me, but she is his baby girl and if the dog so much as startles her, she is banished to the back yard to swelter for a good, oh, 6 minutes.
So its baby-proofing time, only, that baby-prooding stuff? Not cheap. So its a little at a time, and a lot of vigilance on our part. Yes, it makes life a little more trying, but at the same time, it is a wonderous thing to watch your baby become a person, and discover something new everyday. And you can’t put a price on that!
The aftermath of a robbery, ear infection and amoxicilan allergy
Sleeping in your house the night its been broken into is not something I would recommend. Every little noise made me stop breathing and I was certain the evil ones were lurking outside of Aubrey’s window, waiting for me to fall asleep and snatch away one of my most precious possessions. I think I got about 3 hours of sleep that night- after I inhaled the remainder of my Tylenol PM- but I was READY to go to work the next day, for the sole purpose of NOT being in that house. After all, it got robbed in the middle of the day so why would I want to hang around for round 2?
After dropping Aubrey off at daycare and telling the babysitter that hey, you might want to lock the door to your garage, I went to work and promptly began my research on home security systems. I found one, called, got a good deal, referred my sister-in-law and got an even better deal, and still could not breathe easy. I had a panic attack that night and Good Lord, I hate those. I haven’t had one of those since the pressures of college and of boyfriends had during said college years. I have always been one to get scared, to watch the news too much and assume that every rapist and murderer has me next on their list. So you can imagine how my irrationality increased after this incident.
But yesterday, the nice man from the security company came to my house for 6 hours and drilled holes in my ceiling from the attic and wired the doors and every window and a bunch of other stuff that was totally worth dipping into Aubrey’s college fund. I now have little red lights that let me know every time I enter a room, and chimes and such to let me know that hey, I opened the door. And then, hey, I just shut the door. I am so eco-friendly. Last night, I slept like a baby.
They might have taken some of Ryan’s hunting stuff, but they didn’t get it all so just be aware, if you try to scare me by creeping around my house, or toilet paper my house or shaving cream my car, I have weapons and I know how to use them and I am one paranoid, irrational homeowner… so consider yourself and your toes warned.
I know that I am supposed to have faith in the Lord, the He no doubt DID protect Aubrey and I the day of the robbery by us not going home right away. I know that it was only “stuff” that was stolen, and I could really care less about that. I wish that I could say that I place all hope in the Lord, that I could lay down at night and fall fast asleep. I wish that I could let the dog out to pee every morning without fearing that a man is standing there with a gun. I know that as a Christian, fear should have no place in my life. But you know what, I’m human, a flawed one at that, so yeah, I’m scared and having a little keypad that calls the police in 2.5 seconds DOES make me feel safer. I was talking to a lady at work about it today and she told me to read Psalms 91 tonight before I go to bed. We’ll see if that helps. Anyways, I’d love your thoughts on this. How does one know in their head that God will protect them (and if He doesn’t, its in His perfect will and there are better things awaiting us) but fight that natural, perhaps evolutionary urge of survival?
On a lighter note, sort of, Aubrey got another ear infection last week. Just like last time, the hot cougar soccer mom doctor (Ryan LOVES taking Aubrey to the doctor:) ) prescribed amoxicilan, which Aubrey has been taking for 8 days. Well, yesterday I get a call from Aubrey’s babysitter sounding a bit, well, panicked. “Um, just wondering if you noticed that Aubrey is covered in red spots.” Um, no I did not, otherwise I WOULD NOT HAVE TAKEN HER TO DAYCARE, WHAT DO YOU TAKE ME A FOR A HEARTLESS FOOL? So I commence the freaking out, calling the doctor because oh-my-god my 10 month old has the chicken pox, how did she get the chicken pox, I can’t miss 8 days of work and she can’t go to daycare with the chicken pox… you get the point. The nurse assured me that without a fever, it was not chicken pox (even though my mother swears that my sister never had a fever with HER chicken pox, cue freaking out). Ryan went and got her early, just in case.
Don’t you hate it when your kid doesn’t feel good and there is really nothing you can do about it except sit in the floor and scratch your eyes and cry with them? And then they look at you like woman, you are not covered in red welps and don’t truly know my misery so why don’t you just quit being a baby? I gave her a bath, patted myself on the back for remembering to give her the medicine for her ears, fed her and put her down.
I wish I knew how to insert pictures here because this morning when I woke her up, Miss Aubrey looked as though she had been in a fight. Her little eyes were swollen and the red welps had multiplied overnight. I felt so bad for her but she was in a fabulous mood. My mother-in-law was coming to take her to the doctor so I didn’t have to worry about the looks I would get from other mothers at daycare, like ahem, why did you bring your leper to daycare where it can infect my child with that disease?
Long story short (and by now its like, whats the point?), my excellent parenting skills in which I administer prescribed medicine to my child twice a day like the doctor said were actually harming her. She is allergic.to.amoxicilan.
Say whaaaaat?
Yes. What kid is allergic to amoxicilan? I have a special relationship with amoxicilan because it got me through those 6 years of living in smog infested cities, smog infested so badly that if you went out for a jog and blew your nose, your snot would be black. Seriously. I had tonsilitis EVERY SINGLE MONTH of my junior year that we lived in Santiago before my parents (God love ‘em) FINALLY decided to let me get my tonsils out. On my birthday. Thanks mom.
So you can imagine my shock at the allergy, and feel my relief that my child was not infested with a flesh-eating disease or, worse, the chicken pox.
That is a battle better fought in first grade, when you know how to scratch and whine and get your mom to give you lots and lots of ice cream. I’ll be sure to blog about it when it happens.
Alcoholics have bars… I have Target
I think (and my husband would shout a resounding YES!) that when it comes to shopping, I have a problem. I don’t know what it is about those bright white linoleum floors or the red plastic shopping carts (an atrocious amount of non-decomposable matter but that is a whole other blog), but my shopping list suddenly looks too short and I begin to panic that I might run out of toilet paper. And “oh look, the toilet paper is on sale AND THIS WEEK ONLY if you buy a box of Huggies along with a 24 pack of Cottonelle toilet paper, you get a $5 gift card-which, omg I need a new candle for my desk so that would totally pay for a soy blended candle and hey, didn’t someone tell me they sell those Immaculate Baking Company organic cookies here?” You see the trend, I won’t even begin to tell you what runs through my mind when I walk down the baby aisle, but today it had to do with Aubrey’s bottle nipples beginning to turn a suspicious shade of murky and “I should probably buy some new ones and hey, its about time to introduce the sippy cup I wonder if they have transition spouts and I would really prefer to buy glass instead of plastic b/c plastic takes like 500 years to biodegrade and glass is recyclable and hey, I wonder if they sell biodegradable trash bags here”. You get the idea.
It’s so weird to me that I am like this now, because when I wasn’t working I became very enlightened as to what I could live without. Staying home with Aubrey was much more important than getting a good deal on toothpicks or making sure I have a certain brand of cheese. Of course I have always loved to shop, but I turned that switch off when we were living on one paycheck.
And then, this job falls into my lap and all of the sudden our income is doubled and before I know it, not only have I spent all my allotted spending money on picture frames, but I have opened up a Target credit card to pay for all that other stuff that I truly didn’t need… seriously, I didn’t need it, it was mother’s day gifts for my MIL, mom and grandma. Isn’t mother’s day still a month away? Oh but it was on SALE and I HAD to get it bc its SUCH a cute idea!
I eventually confessed my sin to Ryan, who rolled his eyes and gave a very exasperated, “Oh, Kitty”. I get called Kitty when I do something really cool or I do something really stupid. I am inclined to believe the latter choice applied here. And rightfully so, I mean hello who uses a 24% interest rate card when I have an 11% one sitting at home for emergencies that we can get miles for? To hide it, that’s why. I binged.
So, to recap, the basic signs of addiction are there: binging, remorse, enabling my habit… but hey. I got a swift kick in the pants and I am back on track. I paid off that Target beast on my lunch break AND bought the stuff I needed with CASH. Now if only I could get myself to shred it…
I’m no beautician
So, Aubrey’s bangs were getting so long that they were in her eyes yesterday. You can see where this is going. I got the bright idea to trim them just a little, so she could see. After her bath with her hair still wet, I brushed them down and got the scissors. Only one problem, she LOVES being naked (what baby doesn’t?) so she was squirming and kicking and having a grand ole time. Meanwhile I have a go at the bangs and she moves her head, which resulted in disaster. She now has very short bangs and looks like a boy!
Ryan thought it was hilarious and promptly called our friend Sheri who cuts our hair. She laughed at me and when I asked if she could fix it, I was advised to just let it grow out. Its kinda funny, but not bc my sweet little angel now looks like one of the three stooges.
Add that to the list of things to feel guilty about! ha!
