Sunday, March 28, 2010

Happy Easter to you too!

Is it bad that since my kid doesn't know about **insert annoying, large, overdressed and kinda creepy character here** I see no reason to take a picture of them together?

Not to mention put him in nice clothes - twice, I'm sure, as he will poop or puke on the first set, wait in line for an hour, and pay a ridiculous amount of money just to have him cry because, let's face it, six foot tall bunnies are pretty scary.

I feel like he's missing out on some kind of childhood rite. Fancy pictures - and maybe even a test of wills with a furry character. But he didn't take too kindly to the first boyhood rite I put him through.

Then again - that was circumcision.

Wednesday, March 24, 2010

Gotta love Moms!!

A Mommy friend waaay across the country over here posted this on her blog and I LOVED IT! (And to think - I used to go to YouTube to watch Blue October videos, funny SNL skits or posts of people slipping and falling on their ass. Now . . . . . I watch Mommy videos. Wow. The times they are a-changing.)

Bjorn liked it too, although he has the attention span of a butterfly and couldn't make it all the way through the video.

For all you Moms out there - GO US!!! :)

Friday, March 19, 2010

A Love Letter

Dear Bjorn,

Someday you will miss me.

It will be around age 25, when your college days of drinking and sleeping late are behind you. When all of a sudden you have the dreaded responsibilities and bills. Out of nowhere, you will stare off into the distance and then, you will miss me.

You will have a family of your own and Saturday afternoons will be spent wiping up gallons of puke or folding mountains of laundry. Or schlepping off to soccer or football or ballet classes. And then, you will miss me.

Mid Monday mornings will no longer bring joy as time usually spent with me is replaced with board meetings and budget appraisals. And then, you will miss me.

So remember to spend time with me now. Use the time you have - the leisure, the relaxation, the laziness of it all - use that time with me. Someday you will look back and wish more of your day could be devoted to spending time with me.

But most of all, even when you will have forgotten me, I will not have forgotten you. I will always be in the chair next to your desk, or in that sofa outside your office. I will be in the bus seat across the aisle, and in the backseat of your Prius in the carpool lane.

I will always be there. You just have to come and find me.


Your Nap

Thursday, March 18, 2010

Going with your Gut: Part Deux

Going with your gut means sometimes having to say you're wrong.

And sometimes having to say it as your husband has to take your 103.3 degree feverish child to Urgent Care when you are 1700 miles away with absolutely no way to be home for at least 14 hours.

After getting checked out, we were told that he tested negative for RSV.

And negative for the flu.

Negative for strep.

Same for a UTI and an ear infection.

So we know what he doesn't have. But we still don't know what he does have.

According to the Ped, there are thousands of illnesses and reasons for a fever, but there are not ways to check for every single one of them. And why not, Mrs. Ped?! Tell me what is wrong with him!!!

He has had a fever off and on since Monday evening - the highest hitting that famed 103.3 and the lowest being 98.3 right as I walk out the door Tuesday morning to go to work.

Yesterday his fever was in the high 102's. . . . except, of course, for when we stopped in at the pediatricians, when it was a solid 98.8. If we weren't using a rectal thermometer, I would be thinking he was doing the old 'thermometer near a light bulb' trick to get out of going to day care.

The ped checked his vitals ("his lungs sound great!") and collected a throat culture and pee sample to send off to a lab. To look for things such as kidney diseases and other throat infections.

Which take 48-72 hours to find. So I'm on fever watch until Friday afternoon (Friday!!!) for the fever to get higher than 104 or for other symptoms to appear. If he hovers around 102-ish, the Ped said not to worry. Ha! That's like telling a fish not to ride a bicycle!

So Bjorn and I are doing our own thing until this mysterious fever disappears. No play dates, no day care, no outings to the gym. Until we figure out what this is - or at least how to get it to go away - then we are staying away from anyone we can give it to.

Looks like I am going to buy some Baby Einstein DVD's to keep the little man occupied!

Tuesday, March 16, 2010

Going with your Gut

In high school softball, in order to build teamwork skills, we had to attend a skill-building workshop that featured - among other activities like a high tightrope walk and rock climbing - the "Trust" game.

If you've never played, the concept is very simple. (So simple, in fact, that a caveman could do it. Or a gecko. It was the idea behind a recent Geico commercial. . . . . )

Person A stands in front of Person B, crosses their arms, and falls backwards, not faltering, not flinching, and trusting (hence the name) that Person B will catch them.

Sounds crazy, right?

Well, that's what Motherhood is. (Yes, I have about fifty different ideas of what Motherhood is. What do you think it is?)

Motherhood is trusting your instincts. Trusting that you can fall back, not on another person, but on your own know-how, your instinct, your gut.

Might be the hardest part of Mothering. Besides all the puking and pooping, of course.

It's hard for me to trust my instincts, but I'm working to do better. After 9 months I feel that I know Bjorn. I know his moods, his needs and how to get him to stop crying. (Put him in front of The Dog.) I also know that sometimes a temperature is just a temperature.

Sometimes it is a reaction to teething. Or fighting off a small infection. Or just that he got a little hot during the day.

And sometimes no fever at all can be an ear infection. Or, as my pediatrician called it, a "wicked" ear infection. Sometimes a clingy kiddo who doesn't cry, doesn't get a fever and doesn't throw up can still be sick. And the only way I can know is through my gut.

Mothers have to learn to trust their instincts - to rely on something other than books, WebMD or their own mother. To rely on themselves.

Monday, March 15, 2010

Good things come in Threes. . . or is it bad things come in threes?!?

In horse racing, a Trifecta is a bet picking the first, second and third place horses in the proper order. It is extremely hard to get, so it pays out extremely well - something like a thousand to one odds.

In Motherhood, a Trifecta is something completely different.

Motherhood Trifecta: getting puked on, pooped on and peed on - all in the space of three hours.

Welcome to my world. I am now placing bets.

Friday, March 12, 2010

It's fun to stay at the Y.M.C.A!

After months of talking about it - discussing pros and cons, turning each others words back on them, arguing - we finally did it.

No. Not get another dog. (Although that "discussion" is still ongoing, too. Can you believe that with everything going on, I still want another doggie. Gheesh. . . when am I gonna learn?!)

We finally joined a gym.


I wasn't sure we were ever going to because, well. . . . I'm cheap. Verrrrrry cheap. And I really don't want to blow $80 a month on a gym membership I don't use.

But there was such a good deal going on that I couldn't help myself. Me, The Hubs and Bjorn. We are now a gym-going family.

And I actually used it already.

I dropped Bjorn off at the in-gym daycare, waved goodbye, and was told that I could only leave him for two hours. Not a problem, I thought. I can't remember the last time my workout lasted longer than 30 minutes!

But when that half hour hit - sooner than I expected- I didn't want to pick him up. I had a "free" babysitter for 2 hours, so why not get what I pay for?? I was 3K into my treadmill run/walk, and I thought 'I wonder if I could do 5K?'

So I did.

In 44 minutes, with a 2% incline the entire way.


Not a bad first day at the gym!

Obviously I didn't listen to this running guru. And maybe he's right and I'll burn out quickly.

But maybe he's wrong. Because my body isn't miserable. I am not calling out for bananas and ice packs. Besides a little wooziness when I first got home (I know, I know - I should always eat breakfast. Let's be honest, though. Most days? Breakfast is 4 cups of coffee and some animal crackers.). . . but besides that wooziness, I was fine. Almost like I hadn't worked out long at all.

And, while I have no formal plan, I would like to run 5k in less than 30 minutes. Hey - it could happen. There was a time when I was very athletic. A time before college, beer and babies. A looooooong time ago, it seems.

**Random side note: Every morning, in my 4 gigantic cups of coffee, I drink (shameless plug!) Half and Half Fat Free French Vanilla Creamer. It is to-die-for good. Serving size is 2 tablespoons and 50 calories. I measured this morning and I drink 2 servings in each cup. That's 100 calories a cup. 400 calories before I have even eaten a damn thing. Since I am also cheap (ahem - thrifty) and that Half and Half ain't cheap, starting tomorrow I am going to substitute half of my creamer with plain ol' milk. Still get the sweetness of the creamer without the fat. I'll cut 200 calories a day just with that little change!**

Thursday, March 11, 2010

A Mama's Life

I clean up puke more often than I shave my legs.

There is something wrong with that on so many levels.

The Sounds of Silence

I see now why Mama's need eyes in the back of their heads.

Seriously, in the span of about fifteen seconds where my eyes were off him, Bjorn ate a half-dissolved dishwasher gel pac from the dishwasher.

You know what tipped me off that something could be wrong? For those 15 seconds, there was silence in my house.

Now I know what Simon and Garfunkel meant about the 'Sounds of Silence'. Silence can be deafening.

Immediately, I go on auto-pilot. Grabbed him up, pulled the gel pac out of his mouth and pulled my finger through his mouth, getting alot of the blue gunk out. He threw up on the rug, and I kicked the dog away from licking it while dialing the pediatrician.

I never knew I could multi-task so well.

Long story short, Bjorn is fine. The Ped told me a few things, and then had me call Poison Control, where they told me that dishwasher gel pacs were pretty much soap with a few other enzymes. They were only worried about vomiting and choking on it.

I, on the other hand, was worried about everything. How could I not be? My kid had just eaten soap!! On my watch.

That kind of responsibility is scary. Verry scary. This little person's life is in my hands - as dramatic as that sounds! - and I am the one responsible for him. Would you trust me with your life!?!

Thursday, March 4, 2010

I can't believe it's really been. . . . 9 months

Happy 9 Month Birthday, Bjorn!

Ok, so it's one day late, but really. . . he was four days late, so he's just going to have as much patience with me as I did with him. Because, really, I am sure this is not the only "milestone" (Is 9 months even a milestone???) or birthday that I am going to forget/lose track of. Not like my Super Mama friend who made pancakes to celebrate her daughter's 7 month birthday. . . . . Bjorn - you'll be lucky if you get a homemade cake on your 1st. I try, but let's be realistic here. I don't remember anything.

Anyways. . . . . .

So, B is 9 months old now, which means his 9 month checkup! Which just happened to occur exactly on his 9 months so I really have no excuse for not doing anything to celebrate. Oh, wait - for your 9 month celebration, Bjorn, I got you A FLU SHOT IN YOUR THIGH!!! That's right! This Super Mama got you a big long needle poking into your soft, baby flesh. Don't say I never did anything for you.

While at the Doc's, we also got the height/weight checkup, and while he is holding steady at about the 45% for height (he has been at 55-60 percentile), he is now in the 10th percentile for weight. Where before he was at 65%.

Where he was almost 18 lbs on his last visit, he is now barely 17 lbs 9 oz.

The worried, guilty look on my face said it all.

Was I not feeding him enough? Even when I forget to feed myself, I almost always remember to feed him 3+ times a day. I make his own food, so there are less additives, but is that making him super small?

Is he going to be called shrimp and beanpole and all sorts of scrawny kid nicknames?

Doc took one look at the questions running across my mind and didn't hesitate to reassure me.

He's just been sick, she said. Throwing up and diarrhea for a week. That can make anyone lose a little bit of weight, she said. He's crawling everywhere, she said. They burn calories easier and sometimes lose some of their weight.

After giving me a few tips (add a little more formula to the bottle, feed him yogurt and all sorts of yummy goodies), we left and immediately called Daddy.

"You know how you always eat all the pizza in the box because there are 'starving kids in Ethiopia'? And how you always finish the wings because there are 'starving kids in China' who aren't so lucky to have food to finish? Well, one of those kids is in our own house."

Even though he isn't starving. And isn't malnourished. He just lost a little weight.

So I'm an exaggerator. So what?!

Daddy made dinner last night, and Bjorn ate - for the first time - chicken. And he loved it. And he ate all of it along with his rice cereal and Cheerios.

And this morning, he ate all of his scrambled eggs and toast.

I think Daddy might be trying to gain back all of Bjorn's lost weight in one day. But at least we know he's eating well!

Tuesday, March 2, 2010

Get some glasses, Blue!

When will these damn Mom hormones quit? I am now 9 months post-pregnancy and I bawl at every little thing. AND I DIDN'T EVEN DO THIS WHEN I WAS PREGNANT!!

Even shows like the new series Parenthood make my eyes well as up as I think, 'Someday I too will scream and curse at the nearest Ump when he makes a bad call. No one will take away your base hit, Bjorn. No one.'

Rock a Bye Baby

Oh boy. I am in biiiiig trouble in a couple of years.

Or maybe starting now. Who knows?

Bjorn is a little booger. (He gets that from his Dad.) He's also a little smarty-pants. (He gets that from his Mama). Combine the two and you get trouble.

See, I never read any books on pregnancy and parenting. (Does Jenny McCarthy's book count?) I figured that people had been parenting and having babies for thousands of years, so what did I really need to read up on that I couldn't figure out just like they did?

And that is why I didn't know that if you stay at home with your baby for 8 months (yay!) and rock him to sleep (almost) everytime he takes a nap or goes down to bed, then you can't one day just decide that he doesn't need to be rocked anymore and he can go to sleep by himself.


You can try to put him in his crib while awake. You can even turn off the baby monitor for 15 minutes so the wails and shrieks coming from his room don't sound so ear-piercingly sad. But the same thing will always happen.

You will walk right back into that room, pick him up out of his crib. The second you do that, he will fall asleep peacefully on your shoulder, nestling in for a good winter's nap.

Until next time, of course, when it will all happen again. Rinse and repeat.

So Daddy and I are trying to break the Little Man from his need to be held. Not because we don't want to hold him to fall asleep - we do. We just don't want to have to hold him to fall asleep.

It has become quite a battle around nap/sleeptime, and although we won a few fights, I think Daddy and I are going to lose the war.

Which brings us to last night.

Bjorn and Daddy were both sick this past weekend. (Don't ask. I'll just say - it wasn't a pretty picture. Bjorn couldn't hold in his food and Daddy had food poisoning. Just bad all around.) Both boys were finally feeling a little better Monday night, so although we had slacked off on the putting-Bjorn-to-bed-awake thing (it's just easier when he's sick not to try it), we were determined to start again last night.

Of course, he begins crying and screaming, which just kills my Mommy ears. I turned down the monitor and went to the furthest part of the house I could. Ten minutes later, there was nothing. No tears, no sniffles. Nothing.

I bombarded Daddy with questions.

"Is he ok? Do you think he fell out of the crib? Or is he just silent screaming, gearing up for the next round? Do you think he forgot how to cry?"

I soft-shoed up to Bjorn's room, and reminiscent of last week, slowly peered - Charlies Angel style - into his room.

Where he was standing straight up in his crib, looking right at the door, not making a sound.

Little booger was pretending. Trying to catch me in the act of checking on him.

Thanks to my ninja fast reflexes, Bjorn never saw me. I leapt back from the door and flattened myself against the wall, and waited. He stood staring at the door for a good minute before plopping down, crying for another thirty seconds and then falling fast asleep where he slept through the night.

Until 7:30 this morning when I go in to wake him. Where he is, again, standing straight up and looking at the door. This time, though, when he sees me, he is cooing and smiling, almost making me forget what a little booger he was last night.