Changing Table and Electrical Items Don't Mix

Our dresser doubles as a changing table. I also keep a small lamp on the end that I use when reading to Julia before bed. This was no problem until Julia became so active that I could hardly keep her still long enough to change her diaper. (This is especially fun if it's a poopy diaper!) Anyway, the other day she was rolling around, trying to grab everything, etc. when...voila! She knocked the lamp right to the ground where the light bulb shattered. It was an old lamp from my classroom with small beads on the end of the shade (fine for third graders but a major choking hazard for babies - bad Mom!). So I looked down to see broken glass and tiny beads everywhere. Fortunately, the mess was contained behind a big chair and I cleaned it up right away. But when I think about what could have happened...Needless to say I soon removed both the lamp and wipe warmer from her table. (I've actually replaced the lamp with a smaller, non-beaded version and I try to remember to remove it when changing her. I don't learn, do I?)

Talia needs a parasol

Nothing says "bad mother" like an infant with a suntan. Talia has been outside (un-sun-blocked, un-hatted, and un-blanketed) basically every day since the sun came out again. It shows. I should have my license revoked. Oh wait, I don't need a license for this job. :)

Could be ticketed for this one...

He was all buckled in. The 5 point harness was COMPLETELY buckled...at all 5 points. The carrier bar was even in the position the manual said is best.

Thank goodness neighbor, Mike is a good driver, because somehow we made it all the way back from West Chester without actually attaching the carseat to the seat.

Wonderful.

I might not have admitted this one to all of you. However, maybe posting it will remind myself and others to double CHECK when putting the carseat in another car.

Itsy Bitsy Spider

This goes into the "just plain dumb" category:

ALL of my life I thought that "Itsy Bitsy Spider" went up the water spout.

In the bathtub.

I don't know why. Maybe that's where my mom sang it?

So every time I sang the song, I envisioned the spider going up the tub spout. The rain that came down was the from the pipes. And the sun? Well, I never understood that part. What was the sun doing in the bathtub?

It all became clear when I read the BOOK to Owen. (There is one.)

Apparently, the spider lives OUTSIDE. He goes up the "garden spout." Which makes a HELL of a lot more sense. "Down came the rain" makes more sense too..because he's climbing up the rain gutter. "Out came the sun and dried up all the rain...."
Well.
Of course.
My whole life, and I never thought about where the damn spider lived.

The MOST fun toy in the room

...is not the cool green caterpillar with crinkly sounds, that beeps when you push it. Nor is it the water-filled aquarium toy complete with floating fish, crabs, and clams. Not even close, is the stuffed Eyeore, soft and fuzzy.

No. It's the electrical wire FAR out of sight (or so I thought), that does NOTHING but sit there, lurking behind the couch.

MMMMMmmmm. Yummy. It apparently tastes good too.
Great.

Melting breast pump

For those who know Ryan's melting-breast-pump-story...it's NOTHING compared to this one!
I'm just glad to know I'm not the only one who had this happen.
I can still taste the burnt plastic smoke. BLECHHHHH!
(Oh...and Andrea....we replaced all the parts to your breast pump. It's fully functional again. Sorry.)

Midnight Belly Flop

"Bump."

That is the sound of one baby landing.

On the floor.

Having rolled off my bed.

At 1:11 a.m.

The same day I said I had no real child-endangerment stories.

She's fine. Nary a scratch. Let's hope this is the worst thing I ever do.

Sister-in-law blues

So I know I should be so happy that my brother and sister-in-law had a baby one month after I did--my son has a cousin close in age, we can go through everything together, family events will be so fun...but it is really, really hard. I had to promise myself today not to go on the blog again that they made about her, which brags about how she is the angel baby and at one month old already sleeps through the night and into the morning, smiles all the time, is only fussy when she's hungry...this is what I read after getting up every two hours last night and EJ is not too into the smiling yet...and as hard as I try to just remind myself of all the reasons I am grateful that EJ is who he is and how we are so lucky to have him, it's hard for me not to get really down when I read how easy this is for someone else.

That's why it's good for me to read this blog and know that other mothers are going through what I am and have mixed emotions about this whole parenting thing.

Amy, this might give you some competition for the award

This dates back a few weeks. Claire and I were at Home Depot on one of our typical Saturdays when we were trying to do a ton of stuff around the house. It was well past lunch time and I hadn't eaten anything since early that morning. As luck would have it our friendly neighborhood Home Depot was celebrating spring by having a little cookout. When I saw those flat, gray, low-quality beef hamburger patties on that grill I just had to get myself one. And fast! So, with Claire in the cart I did a quick calculation of the grade of the hill we were standing on and the distance to the aluminum pan of already-cooked burgers, waiting to be snatched up by vultures like me, and determined that I could make a dive for one and Claire and our cart would stay put (or, maybe, at worst move only slightly - yes, I made an allowance for that eventuality). Well, I can confirm that the grade I earned in physics was well earned and still accurately represents my knowledge level in that material: my child went careening off the sidewalk into the parking lot but was, thankfully, stopped by a Home Depot employee who I guess was on crowd control/baby saving duty.

So I was willing to sacrifice my child for a piece of hamburger meat. Pretty sad (and really embarrassing, too)!

Click

Anyone seen the movie Click with Adam Sandler? It's sort of a non-Christmas A Christmas Carol. It made me cry, hard, for an hour after it was over. And I don't cry that much. Rent it, but I'll tell you why I cried in the meantime.

I don't have any real child-endangerment stories (yet). I haven't ever wished my child gone (yet). I haven't ever had the desire to kill her (yet). She cries sometimes and I muddle through and it's okay (so far).

But I have nursed my daughter to get a break from entertaining her (a few times). And I nurse in front of the computer (a lot). I have counted the minutes till nap time (often) or bed time (almost all the time). I have spent many moments imagining the post-weaning vacation I'm going to take with my husband (while I leave her with our parents).

I don't have extreme stories (that's kind of the story of my life: moderation), but I have a fair number of just-being-there-physically-without-really-being-there-mentally stories. Not all the time, but so much more often than I care to admit to myself or anyone else. And that made me cry. For an hour. It's a movie worth renting.

Blow-Outs

How is it that the poop manages to come up the back of the diaper and all the way up the babies' backs? Are there any tricks to prevent this from occuring? Anyone?

The "Ally McBeal" Stage

Have you reached this stage?

To truly understand the "Ally McBeal" Stage of motherhood desperation, you must have first seen the TV show from the '90s where she imagined all kinds of things that she would do, or say...but doesn't. Even if you never saw it, you might have experienced the "Ally McBeal" stage anyway.

This "Ally McBeal" stage might be described as a moment of imagination. This imagined scene is what you WOULD do if Jiminy Fucking Cricket wasn't sitting on your shoulder telling you what a "good" mother would do in any given situation.

I think Amy C. reached this stage in her posting " Say What?" :)

I reached it today when, while driving, I imagined myself careening off the nearest cliff with the screaming infant in the car...and then flashed immediately back to driving along boring Route 1 behind the smelly, fuming, dilapidated brown Volvo. This cliff-diving, of course, would never happen...but there are certain pitch levels of a baby's scream that make you contemplate strange things.

Rolling, rolling, rolling...

In the time it takes to walk one step and place your earrings on your dresser, a baby can roll over TWICE and then roll OFF of the bed.

Just ask me how.

Better yet, ask Owen how he got the big bump on his head.

Thankful that we have a platform bed.
Wishing that we had carpet there.

I WIN the AMOTY* Award for the weekend. (AGAIN)

Isn't ANYONE going to give me competition?
---------------------------------------------

*AMOTY: (Anti-Mother Of The Year)

Say What?

Such a great idea, Amy. Then again, you always were a forward thinker! I was thinking today about funny things people said to me when I was having trouble getting pregnant, such as:

Have you tried relaxing? (My imagined response: "One bottle of wine just doesn't seem to do it anymore...")

My friend tried forever, and nothing worked....and then voila! She got pregnant on her own! (This comment made me want to bludgeon something.)

Have you considered adopting? (This made me feel selfish and vain. Just think of all those orphaned kids...)

Is the problem with you or your husband? (People always need to place the blame...)



And now that I have 14 week old twins, I get these gems:

Are they identical? (My response: "Ummm....one's a boy and one's a girl, so.....)

Boy, you've got your hands full! (My response: "Full of love!")

Better you than me!! (My response: "Yep!")

God knew better than to give me twins! (My response: "More for me!")

Are they twins? (My IMAGINED response: "They were quadruplets, but every time someone asks a stupid question, I give them a baby. Here's yours!" My REAL response: "Yep!")

Did you have them naturally, or did you have help? (I get this question more often than you know, mostly from strangers. My response: "I take all the help I can get. Are you offering?")

What stupid things to people say to you? :)

Thank you Amy!

Dearest Amy,

After many hours of conversation on the topic of "motherhood," like "what the hell were we thinking?, what the hell just happened?, you mean they can't take care of themselves? you mean my husband actually thinks I am going to have sex tonight?..." I am proud that you have created this space for us to share in the journey. It is no wonder that Owen is a Rock Star, he gets it from his mama!

OK - I would love to write more, but Oren is whining and Mike is juggling to entertain him... I better intervene ;)
xoxoxox
Carly

Foreheads and Concrete

Today, Owen learned how to pull himself from a sitting position all the way to his hands and knees.

Unfortunately, he's not accustomed to the hands and knees part and clunked his head on the carpet. That might not have been so bad, except the thin carpet I chose to put him on...had concrete under it instead of padding. OUCH.

Nice job Mom!

Dog + Baby + Dogleash

Imagine, if you will, a baby learning to crawl, rolling around on your floor. Add one part inquisitive, yet sweet baby-licking pug, and one part dog leash still attached to the dog from your walk an hour ago.
Imagine looking up and finding that the dog and the baby have become inexplicably tangled with the leash wrapped perfectly in figure eights around the baby's neck.
The internet might be too much of a distraction for a mommy of a mobile baby.

ever feel like this?

I don't know if this is teething, a 6 month-growth spurt, or new separation anxiety...whatever it is, this constant crying and needing to be held...
I have had it...
I'm done
can't take it anymore

I want someone to take this baby, this creature, this demanding, crying, screaming monster away.
I've totally lost sympathy, compassion, and kindness towards it's screeches and whines...

I don't care if it cries...I don't care if it needs milk...feed it formula, I don't give a damn. Stay the hell away from my sore, drooping, sagging, barely adequate boobs.
I've done everything I can..and get nothing in return. How much of that can a sane person take?

I don't want anymore of this, I don't want to be a mother anymore.

It is madness to sing "twinkle twinkle little star" over wails so loud it hurts your ears. Madness like playing sweet music over a horror movie murder scene...

I stood in the shower feeling like I WAS in a movie, with a camera motionless on my blank expression...water running over my hair and down my face. Screaming, crying, and wailing are heard in the background. If I pick him up, he'll stop, but I'm so tired of holding him.

Later, I'll hear, "How was your day?"
The explanation would really take too long and would achieve nothing.
"Fine," I'll say.

By a leg...

Yesterday, while utterly exhausted, I put Owen on the bed with me. He was all OVER the place the entire day, perfecting the army crawl with dizzying speeds. I put my head back on the pillow and continued to hold on to his leg while he was reaching, twisting, rolling, pulling...then he made a small "ack" noise. I blinked, summoned the energy to turn my head just in time to see that he was completely hanging over the edge of the bed and I was holding him only by a leg.
Ack! indeed.