My Life in (con)TEXT

Me: I have dinner with the girls @ 5:30.

Mr. Clean: I also have dinner with some girls at that same time. Strippers and beer. : D

Me: Figures. I'll have to take BB.

Mr. Clean: The girls love her.

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

A close friend had her baby boy last week. I said I was going over for a few minutes. Two hours later...

Mr. Clean: Dinner isn't going to make itself.

I am a financial GENIUS. You laugh now but don't judge until you read...

I have decided that after two kids (yeah, I'm going to nut up and have another one in a couple of years) (because I'm crazy like that) I will DEFINITELY be needing a tummy tuck and a boob job. Things are not looking pretty, to put it nicely, in either department. And that's only after one. BB number two is just going to Fuck. Me. Up.

Heidi Klum makes me sick. Three kids and that body? BITCH.

Okay, I can't stay mad at Heidi. She's amazing. (Sigh)

Unfortunately, there is no hope for this body. Or is there? I seriously contemplated this yesterday. And I determined that I really do think I would (maybe) get surgery. Really. (Maybe.) (Okay, probably not. But for the sake of this blog...maybe.)

Then I was all like, "How the hell am I going to pay for it?"

Upon whence (seriously) I had an AMAZING idea.

Since my lovely children (yeah, I'm already talking about the one that doesn't yet exist) will be the ones responsible for my very fucked up postpartum bod, I think they should pay for it.

Yeah, you heard me right.

So I'm going to tax their asses.

The government (local, state, federal) taxes me in order to pay for what we'll call "maintenance." Why shouldn't I be able to do the same to my kids? (That's a rhetorical question. Don't answer.)

But babies and kids don't have money, you say. Oh, not so!

Allowance? TAXED. Birthday money from grandma and grandpa? Toothfairy coinage? TAXED.

After saving it all up for a few years I should have enough for my new "hot mommy" body.

Genius plan, right? You can thank me later when you've saved up for your own hot mommy surgery. In advance: You're Welcome.

RTT: I have no clever title ideas today. Deal with it.

This is another one of those "I'm posting Wednesday because BB got shots yesterday" posts. (More on that at the bottom.)

I really hate it when people have conversations during group classes at the gym. I guess a small part of it's the teacher in me--that whole, "Don't talk while the teacher is talking," thing. But mostly it bugs me because I can't focus. It's a distraction. It's like when people talk at the movies. I'm paying a LOT of money for that class (and the day care) and I'm NOT paying to hear you gossip with your friend...so shut up and let me sweat my ass off in peace.

Facebook keeps reminding Mr. Clean and me that our anniversary is coming up. I guess that means I'll have to acknowledge it. (Not that I'm not, like, SUPER grateful that he is still putting up with my ass after nine years. The man must have super powers of endurance and restraint or something.)

Still celebrating: I found day care! I found day care! I found day care!

Sonofabitch. The fuckers at my coffee stand upped the price of the daily special. (Insert string of curse words here.) Now it's $2.50. I know that's only 50 cents, but it still sucks. It's just not as exciting. I mean, two dollars was a steal. Now it's just "slightly less expensive than usual." And, quite frankly, I'd rather go to Starbucks instead and use my treat receipt to get a drink for TWO DOLLARS. Yeah, it's a smaller drink. But much tastier. And someone has to support the starving artists/college students/drop outs who work there.

Have you seen "Food, Inc."? It will BLOW YOUR MIND. Did you know that our meat actually gets soaked in ammonia?! What the fuck? Would you like a nice glass of floor cleaner to go with that steak? I mean, seriously. Now all I wanna do it buy organic meat. Not that we eat tons of it anyway. (Which is probably a good thing, based on what I saw.) And did you know that the meat companies actually entice people from Mexico to come work for them illegally and then basically "trade" them (turn just a few of them in) to the immigration people so they won't get completely busted up the ass? CRAZY. Do yourself a favor and sit through it. (If you have Netflix I think you can watch it instantly.)

I keep having these great blog ideas right before bed, as I'm drifting to sleep, and then I FORGET them the next day. I always think I'll remember them and then I don't. Guess it's time to start writing them down.

BB had her next round of immunizations today. She did really well with the whole thing. Of course she screamed her head off and cried like mad when she got the shots, but she actually calmed down pretty quickly this time. She was just fine by the time I had her dressed and in buckled in the car seat and was happily squealing and singing in the car before falling asleep. She took a nice big nap and then had a nice be shit/blowout once she woke up. It was so bad I had to bathe her. Not quite as bad as the Poo-pocalypse, but close. It all stayed in her onesie because it's pasty from the rice but it was completely up her back. Getting her out of the damn thing without getting shit everywhere was impossible, hence the bath.

RTT: Now where the hell did I put that binky? Oh, there it is...right next to my sanity.

• Finding child care is a pain the ass. Finding it in my location is an even bigger pain. That's because I live in a small suburb of a larger city and there are far fewer options out here in the boonies than there are in the city. We want something close to home, mainly because Mr. Clean works close by and he's the one that's going to pick BB up. Today I managed to find someone that is probably going to be "the one" but I still have to go check her place out tomorrow. She's at the tail end of the process for getting licensed which is fine by me. She's got 2 kids and one is an infant. She said she doesn't plan on taking enough kids to put her at capacity (6). Her daughter will be at kinder during the day but she has to keep a spot open for her, meaning that she's probably only going to take 3 kids total. It's encouraging. And the rate is $25 a day which is a steal. Please, powers that be, make this work out. 
• Baby Bano is a finicky sleeper. Stick her in the crib and you're luck to get 4 hours before she wakes up, needs to be changed and fed and will go back to sleep for a couple more hours. And that's if you're lucky. Last night she was up every 2-3 hours. However, if you stick her in the car for 15 minutes and take her on a joy ride, she falls asleep instantly and DOESN'T WAKE UP UNTIL 7 AM. (Yes, we leave her in the car seat. There is no way I am going to fuck up the possibility of a full night's sleep for either of us.) 
• Why is it that you can never find a pacifier when you need one?
• She loves her "lovey," which is like a mini-blanket with a stuffed animal attached. It's so cute. She just snuggles right into it. Give her the lovey and a binky and she's good to go. (This is similar to what she has but it's a different animal and color.)
• She SINGS. Seriously. We were at my parents' the other day and she was singing to the music. It was adorable. And when the music stopped, so did she. She sings in the car and almost always when she's tired. She loves it when you sing to her. Ladies and gentlemen, I've got the next Miley Cyrus on my hands.
• We were very fortunate to be gifted with a shitload of clothes from a friend of Grandma Bano's. I have finally finished sorting through them. They are in two GIANT piles on BB's bedroom floor. Pile one is 9-12 months (well, 6-12 in the case of GAP clothes. Seriously, 6-12? Could you be any more arbitrary? It may as well say, "Sometime after birth but before your first birthday.") and pile two is 12+. Those two piles have been sitting there for about 3 days, doing a great job of blocking access to the crib and changing table, and I think Mr. Clean is about ready to lose his shit if I don't put them away or at least shove them into a corner or something.
• SO. MUCH. DROOL. Bibs are now a required part of her outfits in order to prevent her onesies from getting completely SOAKED.

Now go visit Keely for an RTT worth reading.

I Write Like...Your Mom

Have you seen this site? It's called "I Write Like" and after you paste some of your writing into the specified box, it tells you which famous author you "write like."

Which of my beautiful pieces of bloggity-blogging should I use? Gosh, I can't decide! Or should I dig into my old poetry and give that a whirl? Or maybe both? Decisions, decisions.

Okay, here's what I got from using one of my blogs:

I write like
Stephen King

I Write Like by Mémoires, Mac journal software. Analyze your writing!

 Seems fairly accurate, especially since I used the Poo-pocalypse blog. I mean, Stephen is always writing about apocalyptic shit, right? (Just realized there's a bit of a pun in there. Damn, I'm good.)

Maybe I'll try it with some of my poetry later. Maybe they'll tell me I write like Emily Dickinson or Robert Frost or something. (I wonder if it ever just comes back with, "We cannot possibly compare the crap you just entered to the greatest writers of all time. Try again later when you've stopped sucking.")

better haBITS: It's about time!

So the better haBITS have finally begun. This week I've been eating really well (with a couple of minor exceptions) and have hit the gym twice. Hard.

I attended a class called Body Pump on Monday, which is essentially a weight lifting class set to music. You get a TOTAL body workout, and boy was I feeling it yesterday. And today. And I bet I'll be feeling it tomorrow, too. I can hardly walk and have some weird limp because my left calf muscle feels like someone stabbed it. (Don't worry. It's not torn, just REALLY sore.)

BB has been great at the gym's daycare so, like I posted, I went ahead and got the flat rate for 3 months. It's pretty cheap when you think about it. And it's worth it because I actually GO now.

Yesterday I was sore so I took a walk with BB in the stroller. We decided it was a good idea for mommy to go get her $2 special. But instead of a mocha, I was all sorts of good and got a sugar free, fat free, fun free English toffee iced latte. Sounds lame but it was actually good. And so was the walk. BB fell asleep on the way home and took a gigantic nap which was awesome.

Today because my body was all like "Fuck you, you're not going to the gym. I still feel like someone beat the shit out of me on Monday," I had to compromise and be all like, "Fine. We'll just do cardio today." We agreed that sounded like a good plan so I just walked fast (and huffed and puffed) for about 30 minutes on the treadmill and then did some minimal ab work. Good enough.

The scale has been nice. I'm down 4 lbs since last Thursday. It probably helps that I haven't been shoveling mass quantities of delicious, fatty goodness down my gullet. Combined with beating the shit out of my body this week, it was bound to pay off.

I should probably go be a mom or something. She took a shit while I was writing this so I'm crossing my fingers it's not a blowout.

Edit: Said shit was not actually a shit. It was ALL. GAS. She's becoming more like her father every day.

RTT: Kicking Mother Nature In The Ovaries

Oh geeze. It's been a while. Basically I've been too lazy to blog. I haven't had much to talk about and, rather than just forcing it, I figured I'd gather some ideas that may actually entertain you. (Or at least not bore you to death.)

• Do you ever get "eco guilt?" I guess that's what you'd call it. I'm sure there's some fancy terminology for it, but basically every time I forget my own cup at the coffee stand or neglect to bring my own shopping bag into the store, I feel guilty. Like I did something wrong. Like I'm kicking Mother Nature in the ovaries. Using disposable diapers definitely gives me a guilt trip, but they're just so dang easy to use. I just saw a diaper service that may serve my area but I'm not sure because I'm outside of the main city here. However, it would be worth it because it appears to cost less than the disposable ones (!!!) and you don't have to dump the poopy out of them (!!!). Do any of you use cloth diapers? Is it worth it?
• Putting the rice in BB's bottles has been a saving grace for my ta-ta's. Plus it makes her poopy diapers easier to change because it's all pasty and stays put. (I sure do talk about poop on this blog a lot.) (Poooooooooop!)
• BB can army crawl in a circle now. Shit. She's definitely going to be mobile before I'm ready for it. No longer will I be able to lay her on the floor and wash bottles or make myself some coffee. Luckily I can confine her to the exersaucer, which she loves. 
• Every time I go to Target, I come back with at least a million things for BB. Okay, maybe not a million, but definitely more than necessary. On Thursday I went absolutely ape shit in the dollar section and got a bunch of letter, number, and phonics flash cards for her. (You know, because she can totally use them right now. Gotta start the SAT prep early.) (Mr. Clean has now forbidden me to enter the dollar section.) (Ha! Like that's gonna happen!) Today I found a lullaby CD that was 50% off so of course I HAD to get it. And then I saw some of those rings that you can attach the toys to and attach the rings to her car seat so OF COURSE I had to buy them since we don't have any. That place is gonna bankrupt me.
• I finally made it to the gym!!! (You can stop applauding now.) (Okay, maybe just a little more.) And to make sure I keep it up, I signed BB up for daycare. Now I can go any time for up to two hours with her in tow. It's gonna set me back $120 ($40/mo for a minimum of 3 months, which is all I signed up for) but it's worth it not to be a fat ass any more.

That's enough random for today. Hopefully I'll have something to share next week, too.

Want more random? Check out The Un Mom.

!!!, there it is!

Behold: This week's things that make me go "!!!"...

The return of Starbucks' "Treat Receipts." Like I need another excuse to go there.

These delicious Atkins granola bars. Most healthy protein bars have chocolate that tastes like cardboard. Not these bad boys! They're my new "candy bars" and I treat myself to one a day. Super-yum!

 Bought myself a new planner since the old one only went through the end of June. Hooray for half-assed attempts at organization!

Go check out some more !!! at CK's spot.

Things that make me go "!!!"

So, if I understand this whole !!! thing correctly, I get to post about the things that make me go !!!. I think I'm supposed to include photos, but I'm just too lazy/EXHAUSTED for that this morning. I can barely walk straight and avoid putting BB's diaper on backwards.

Considering that motherhood has made me easy to please these days, the list could potentially be miles long. I'll try to contain my !!!...

• Any night when I don't have go get up with BB more than two times. This has been rare as of late, but I got one last night. She woke up at 1:30 AM and 5:30 AM. It still sucks but it's better than the 1:30, 3:30, 5:30, 7:00 crap she pulled Sunday night.
• BB naps. She's taking one right now. I should be taking advantage and getting some extra sleep. Damn you, Blogger!
• The rice in her milk is starting to work. She's slowed down on pounding back bottles like a frat boy. Thank god. My boobs were starting to get scared.
• I lost 2 pounds this week. I had to exercise 4 times to get there (insert exhausted face here), but hey, the scale is finally moving in the right direction.
• The new coffee stand down the road is (A) easy to walk to in about 10 minutes and (B) has a daily special from noon to 4:00 PM that makes me !!! all over the place. A 24 oz. iced latte or mocha for--get this--only $2! HEAVEN. (Unfortunately this does not help with losing weight. I'd probably have lost more if I could learn to avoid these.)
• Baby laughs. She's done it a few times and it's absolutely adorable. She still melts my heart. <3
• Mr. Clean got me a new car stereo for our anniversary (9 years at the end of July), which should be here today. There wasn't anything wrong with my old one, per say. But the new one will...(drumroll)...play my iPod! Woot! I've tried those stupid tuner thingies that you use the static-y radio station to play the iPod through but they never worked very well.

That's enough !!! for now.

She's a maniac, maaaaniac on the floor. And she's eating like she's never eaten before...

Baby Bano is eating like a MANIAC! Good lord, she's hungry every hour--HOUR!!!--and eats an entire 4 oz bottle. My boobs can't keep up with that! Whose can? (Maybe Wonder Woman. Does she have Wonder Boobs and Wonder Milk? Where can I get some?)

So today, I decided: it's time for rice.

The pediatrician had suggested starting the rice at 4 months, but he obviously had no idea that I would be giving birth to a baby with a black hole for a stomach. (I think she's on the right track to become a competitive eater.) And obviously that black hole developed over time because she wouldn't eat when I first gave birth to her.

Because I am one of those moms, I got her the organic rice. I figure for another dollar and change, I'll spare her the pesticides. I used to think organic was a little silly but I recently read the article (haven't we all by now?) that shows a link between pesticides and ADHD. Mr. Clean and I are pretty "chill" people, and having a kid with ADHD might break down the few wits we still have about us.  (I've discovered you lose many of your wits once you give birth. I think newborns absorb them through their skin when you hold them or something.)

Feeding BB the rice was a little tricky, but we figured out that the bottle method is much easier than the spoon method. This was all trial-and-error, with mostly error. First I tried mixing the rice and breast milk in a dish and using a baby spoon. She mostly pushed it around her mouth and out of her mouth. Hmmm. So the next attempt was to use a Nuk bottle with a #2 nipple, with the theory that the opening was large enough for the rice to fit through. (The mixture was mostly milk and only a bit of rice.) And the theory was correct, but BB was all like, "What that fuck is that? Because I only drink from Dr. Brown's bottles and this is NOT a Dr. Brown's bottle. Get that shit out of my mouth." (She's got a mouth like a trucker already.) (She takes after her mother.) Plus, she was practically drowning because the milk/rice mixture was essentially pouring out the the #2 nipple. So we crossed that method off the list pretty quickly.

The final method (which we only got to try for about five seconds because she was PISSED OFF at this point) was to have her drink the thin mixture through the Dr. Brown's bottle. (We may need to get the #2 nipples though.) I have NO idea if it worked because she basically told me to fuck off again. (It went something like, "Mom, quit fucking with me! I am TIRED and you keep trying to feed me this weird shit and all I want to do is sleeeeeep!" But it sounded more like "Waaah!" Scream. "Wah, ahhhhh!" Scream, sob, etc.) Luckily, she was so tired that once a pacifier was administered, she pretty much passed out from all the effort.

My theory is that I'll add a tablespoon of rice to her bottle in the morning, one in the afternoon, and one before bed. My theories about this kind of stuff usually suck though, so if you've got any other suggestions or advice, I'm all ears.

RTT: A kick in the pants. Or the balls.

I'm late. Again. I have a baby, therefore I have a built-in excuse. (I intend to take advantage of this for as long as I can.)

Here's some random for ya:

Baby Bano is probably teething, even though she isn't even three months old yet. She's been getting fussy in the evenings and has even gone on a screaming/crying rampage two nights this week. Of course, I was either asleep or not at home during those times, so it could also be that she just doesn't care much for Mr. Clean, but I highly doubt it.

I finished a book last night. It's from the Stephanie Plum series by Janet Evanovich. A friend got me hooked several years ago and I've been reading them ever since. They are really good...at least the first 13 were. The book I finished was number 14 and I think it's time for the series to be done because the plot was as weak as the coffee at Denny's and the climax was about as exciting as watching my daughter drool. Part of me wants to read the next two anyway (I think there are 16 now), mostly because the female lead has two male romantic interests and I want to see what happens. But after reading that, I'm worried the remainder of the series is gonna suck. Guess I'll be borrowing from the library instead of buying them this time.

I took some REALLY cute photos of BB yesterday.

Isn't she adorable?! I just freaking love her. And she has gotten waaay cuter as she's "unsquished." She was, well...let's just say "not as cute"...when she first came out. Yeah. Let's just say that.

I've been extremely lazy about this whole "better haBITS" thing. Hasn't happened. It's not easy to head off to the gym or plan meals when you have a baby, although it's a lot easier now than it was the first month or two. Anyway, I'm pretty sure Mr. Clean is tired of seeing me in the same four t-shirts that are the only ones that fit (two of which are his) (that are too big on him) (!!!) so he's trying to give me a gentle nudge in the right direction. Gotta love a man that wants you to be happy and healthy, even if it's at the risk of being kicked in the balls for trying to hold me accountable for eating ice cream and pizza. (Okay, I don't actually kick him in the balls. I do want another kid someday.) (Someday in the NOT near future, just to be clear.)

The TiVo is in BB's room so that I have good shows to watch while I pump. Last night I paused the show and just left the TV on. Bad idea. At 2 AM, I hear the TiVo's reboot music through the monitor, and it's LOUD. Because I'm already hard of hearing and I always have the volume turned up to "deaf old woman." Well, BB is not a deaf old woman and guess who woke up? Damn. Luckily she went back to sleep after a bottle and a butt change. And I learned a very important lesson: TV off when BB is sleeping!

Well, that's all the random I've got this time. BB is awake from her early AM nap so I'd better go act like a mom or something.

My life in (con)TEXT

Today's text...

Mr. Clean: How about you, me, and a box of Franzia?

Me: I don't know about the Franzia. A bottle of wine might be nice though.

Mr. Clean: But the box is more romantic.

Just sayin'

I'm almost certain that BP installed Baby Bano's blowout preventer. No wonder it doesn't work.

RTT: Button, button, who's got a button?

I made a button for my blog. God, it's ugly. Fugly, really. But at least I finally did it. I've been telling myself I was going to do this for, like, weeks. Maybe even a month. And last night I finally did it. Patience is obviously not something I had a lot of at the time. The truly sad thing is that it actually took me like 45 minutes to make it. Go check it out on my sidebar. Or maybe not. I'd hate for you to go all blind and shit when the fugliness burns your retinas right out of your skull.

This is going to be a very busy week. Actually, make that a busy month. My summer coaching duties always begin in June. We host a week of middle school camp, then have a week of spring practice, and close the month with a week of a pretty intense camp for the girls. That's just June. After that I've got to coach summer league one night a week and hopefully make it to open gym once a week as well until the end of July. This is all normally no problem, but now there's a BABY mixed into the equation. That means finding babysitters for all of these days and evenings. Luckily we've got a good chunk of willing victims family around who are more than happy to watch Baby Bano for a couple of hours. They're all still under her spell because they don't live with her. (Okay, okay, I'm still under her spell, too.)

I haven't showered since Saturday. Even I am grossed out by this. Once BB falls asleep, I plan on using every ounce of hot water in the house to remedy the situation.

In case you didn't catch my last post, BB has discovered her hands and feet. If you ask her, she'll tell you that They. Are. AMAZING. She is absolutely fascinated, especially by her feet. Her left leg is sticking straight up in the air right now and she is STARING at her foot. (How the hell does she do that? It's like advanced pilates or something.) Her hands (fists) get shoved into her mouth at any and every chance. Apparently they are a delicious snack. (Tastes like chicken!) She gets all cross-eyed looking at them when they are right in front of her face.  Apparently it's pretty normal--the eye thing--but it sure freaked my shit out the first few times she did it. Mr. Clean had some "eye issues" when he was born and I've been paranoid as hell that BB will inherit them. It's quite a sight, really: eyes all jacked up, shoving her fists into her mouth with one leg in the air while speaking in tongues. "Yep, that's my kid! Isn't she talented?"


That's all the random I've got. Hop on over and visit the UnMom if you've got time and want a good laugh.

RTT: I know it's Wednesday, but I've got a good excuse.

Yesterday there was no time for bloggity blogging because it was IMMUNIZATION DAY. Since BB is now two months old (that's all?!) it was time for her first round. That meant dealing with a visit to the doctor )which took longer than expected) and a fussy baby for the rest of the afternoon--and into the wee morning hours.

Let me just say that I HATE it when she cries big old tears of sadness. You know--the genuine, real, "Mommy, save me!" kind of tears that make ME want to cry. God, it just breaks my heart in half. And those were the tears she cried while being poked by three GINORMOUS needles, as well as the tears she continued to cry while she SCREAMED last night after waking up from her needle-trauma-induced coma she'd fallen into once we got home. Of course, this completely fucked up her bed time so it was 2:30 AM before she finally went back to sleep. Luckily, Mr. Clean dealt with her (because I made him) from 10 PM until about 2 AM while I napped so that I wouldn't be a sleep-deprived zombie when I took over. Luckily she zonked back out although it required me to allow her to sleep in the bouncy and not the crib. But you know what? I could give a shit. She was so fucked up and sore and scared that I was going to do anything to (a) comfort her and (b) get some damn sleep myself.

That brings me to my next thought which is that we are probably, finally, mostly in a routine! The past few days she has been waking up around 7 AM, taking a power nap from around 11 AM to 1 PM, taking another short nap or two in the afternoon, and going to bed around 11 PM (with the obvious exception of yesterday).

Oh, back to the doctor, since I'm thinking about it. I asked about her eczema and he confirmed that's what it is. He recommended keeping her skin very moisturized (done and done) and said he usually recommends Eucerine Baby but said the Aveeno Baby is probably fine as long as it's thick and creamy. (Which it is.) I've decided to stick with it since it's worked so well thus far. Her elbows look a million times better and so does the rest of her skin.  (Did you hear that, Aveeno? I think that's worthy of a free tube, don't you?) He also said that if the eczema patches flare up, which they tend to when she gets heat rash, then I can use Cortizone cream. He recommended Cortizone 5 for her face and private areas and Cortizone 10 for the other areas. (The 5 stands for 0.5% of the active ingredient and 10 stands for 1.0, so it's a little more potent which is why it shouldn't go on sensitive areas.)

Which brings me to the next item: Costco. That place is great but sometimes it's a little ridiculous. Case in point: I spotted the Kirkland Cortizone 10 cream and it was a spankin' good deal, so I swooped up a box. My assumption was that there were two tubes in the box. Oh, no. I mean, it's Costco after all. There were FOUR tubes of the stuff in there. FOUR. What the fuck am I going to do with FOUR tubes of Cortizone cream? Sheesh. So now there's a tube in each diaper bag (yes, we have two), one in her room, and one in our bathroom. I've got the stuff coming out of my ears.

That's all the random I have time for today. Somebody is awake. At least her feet (Feet! What are those? Oh my goodness, they are SO COOL! I can point them and stretch them an stuff!) and hands (Hands! These are awesome! And I can fit them in my mouth! Oh, yum!) are keeping her occupied...for now.

Snookie *wishes* she could poop like BB

In light of recent poopy events, including--but certainly not limited to--The Poo-pocalypse (I have spared you from the other nasty poo stories. You're welcome.), I have decided that Baby Bano is a truly crap-tacular, poo-mazing little lady and needs a poo-themed nickname.

Are you ready for it? I'm pretty impressed with myself on this one...

"The Shit-uation."

Fist pump!

The Poo-pocalypse

So there I was, minding my own business. (Actually, I'm pretty sure I was washing bottles.) Baby Bano was squirming more than usual in her bouncy chair, but seemed perfectly content. When I finished minding my own business washing bottles, (which I have to do, like, 500 times a day, thankyouverymuch) I walked over to pick up my beautiful baby girl...and I could SMELL the poo. (In case you didn't know, baby poop does NOT smell beautiful.)

Me: "Oh, you need a diaper change, huh poopy pants?"

BB: "Gurgle." Loving smile. DECEPTION.

Me: (picking her up) "Dang, you stink!" And then...(gagging) "Holy shit! You pooped EVERYWHERE! Oh, Christ, it's even up your leg! Ugghhhhhhhhh! Oh, fuck, it's on my ARM!" (More loud, indecipherable noises of disgust coming from me.)

Boo Boo approaches the bouncy around this time, sniffing, trying (like me) to figure out what the HELL just happened. And of course I freaked out because I was just SURE she was going to try to lick and/or eat the poo, which was ALL OVER in BB's bouncy seat. (I am so glad those things are washable.) So now I've got my arms full of poopy infant, poop ON my arm, and I'm trying to keep the dog away from the chunky yellow river of shit in the chair.  (Whoever said motherhood is "difficult" was severely underestimating the entire experience.)

Luckily, Boo Boo's interest in the poop quickly vanished and I dashed into BB's room, using my un-poop-smeared arm to grab a blanket to put under her on the changing table, and proceeded to wipe her down, wipe MYSELF down, wipe her butt, and change her diaper and her clothes. Once I'd accomplished this (about 10 or so baby wipes later), I had to figure out what the hell to do with BB while I cleaned up the gag-inducing mess in her chair. Luckily, we have an extra that we weren't sure we needed but has now proven its existence as necessary. So BB got to sit, gurgle, and smile (BETRAYAL!) while I used another 10 wipes to get the chunks out of the seat, ripped the cover off, loaded it up with Spray N' Wash, and prayed that it wouldn't stain. (It didn't. Spray N' Wash is the bomb.) (Dear Spray N' Wash, please send me some bottles of your fabulous product for giving it a plug. Aveeno hasn't come through yet so maybe you can set the example.)

What's scary is that I know--KNOW--this will happen again. Probably many times.

(SEVERELY underestimated. Seriously.)

Only a string of expletives can convey my admiration.

Oh. My. GOD. Have you read this shit? And by shit, I mean AWESOMENESS! Holy fuck, this chick is hi-fucking-LARIOUS. How the fuck did I NOT know about this? Why have you people been keeping this from me?! Someone--one of YOU--must have known about it. BAH!

It's okay. I choose to forgive you because BB is sleeping (!!!) and happiness (COFFEE) is flowing through my veins.

Maybe too much coffee.

(!!!)

Anyway, you should really go read it. Hours of entertainment awaits!

I hope you wake up when I flush the toilet.

Lately when I get up in the middle of the night with Baby Bano, a resentment begins brewing as soon as I hear her cry. And no, it's not aimed at BB. It's a deep-seeded spite that I feel toward Mr. Clean. Because while he is STILL SLEEPING, I am cleaning up baby poop or feeding BB while I practically nod off with her in my arms. (Okay, I have nodded off. But she's not going anywhere. The Boppy makes sure of it.) (Besides, it's only for a sec because the rocker has zero neck support. It's probably a good thing.)

Look, I took on the role of midnight baby manager fully knowing that it would suck ass. And it totally does. However, I just can't help but want to wake Mr. Clean up too. I mean, why should he get to keep peacefully slumbering away while I have to WAKE UP for the umpteenth time? I WANT HIM TO SUFFER, TOO. For a split second each night, just after the cries begin and I realize I am the one that has to get up, I fucking loathe him. Just for a second. (Don't judge me. You try getting up every 2-3 hours with a baby, sans help, and see how you feel about your spouse.) (Just sayin'.) Yes, I realize I am kind of a bitch in this case. I own it.

Last night I had to fight the urge to leave the bedroom door open while I watched TV and fed BB in her room (which is right across the hall in our very modest home) and resist the impulse to turn up the volume just a bit more. I had to abstain from leaving the master bathroom door open while I turned on the light and later when I flushed. (I suppose I need to inform you that it's not hard to wake Mr. Clean up. He is generally a pretty light sleeper.) (Unless he's had a beer or two. Then it's pretty impossible to wake his ass up.) And I had to fight the immediate desire to smack him awake so HE could take over when she woke up only two hours later.

To his credit, Mr. Clean does tend to her early-morning needs on the weekends. But there are only two of those days. I have to do it FIVE days a week. And I still have to do it on the weekends. Just not EVERY time on the weekends. And he does let me go to sleep early most nights (meaning I go to bed around nine and he stays up with BB until around eleven) so it's easier for me to get up with her later. It's very kind. But I'm still pissed at him when I have to wake up. I don't foresee it changing anytime soon.

better haBITS

Okay, I'm trying to be clever here with a title for my weight loss posts but I'm not sure how I like it. Yay? Nay? Suggestions?

Any-who...

As I previously posted, I'd like to lose the baby weight. I think I declared I was going to exercise three times that week. Um. Yeah. About that. Didn't happen. And last week I exercised...(drum roll, please)...once. For a whole 20 minutes. And I was sore the next day. So very, very sad.

I think I'll try a weekly post about how things are going and really lay it ALL out on the line: what I've been eating (food journal, perhaps?), my exercise (or lack thereof), etc. Sundays may be the best day to do this since I'll have a week's worth of stuff to post.

Hold me accountable, people. And if you're a lurker, COMMENT. Keep my fat ass in check! :) The more, the merrier. In fact, if you're going through the same thing, perhaps we can do something like HASAY up in here? (It was canceled before I could join. Bummer.) And if I figure out how, we can link up and all that crap. (Someone will have to show me, I'm sure of it. Blogger is a bit more complicated than I have patience for.)

Let the better haBITS begin!

Crib Notes

Grandma and Grandpa Bano came to visit this evening. Baby Bano fell asleep so, once they left, I took the opportunity to put her in her crib. (After being lightly scolded by G&G Bano for still letting her sleep in her bouncy.) (High school all over again. Except I didn't have a baby in high school.) (But you get my point.)

After I put her down, I went to bed. Mr. Clean decided to stay up because he's incapable of sleeping before 11 PM on weekdays and 12 AM on weekends, despite the fact that I KNOW he's incredibly tired. But he likes to wind down with some television and internet surfing, so it really is a win-win situation. I sleep, he relaxes. No complaints here. Except that I asked him to keep her in the crib. And he didn't.

Granted she did wake up about 15 minutes after I put her down. (She has a lot more freedom in the crib and I think it just kind of feels weird to her.) I figured he'd try to put her back down in the crib though. Nope. At whatever o'clock when he came to bed, he set her next to me on the floor...in the bouncy. Of course, I was basically still asleep so I just let it go. I mean, it's SLEEP, people! Moms, you know what I mean.

She woke up about 3 AM (I'd already woken up at 2:30 AM with profusely leaking boobs, having not pumped for several blissful hours OF SLEEP, so I was still awake from pumping anyway) and I took the opportunity to feed her and then put her IN HER CRIB where she is now. Making noise. And then quiet. And then more noise. (Noise of choice is grunting. Lots of grunting.)

Right now it's quiet. Hopefully it stays that way because we've been going at this for about 45 minutes. Luckily there hasn't been any crying. Yet. (I'm sure I've jinxed myself here. Way to go, Bano.)

At least I can play Farmville while I wait it out.

Eggza-eggza-eczema

I am about 99.9% sure that Baby has baby eczema. She's had a little rash and at first we were pretty certain it was a prickly heat rash. And really, it probably was. But lately she's been getting some of that scaly skin and red bumps--the stuff associated with baby eczema.

Poor thing--yesterday it flared up so bad that I became pretty worried. I hate going to the doctor for something that I can treat at home, so I did some research before calling for an emergency appointment. Turns out that there are a lot of things I can do to remedy the problem. Some things include:

• lukewarm baths every night
• using a very mild, fragrance-free soap at the very end of bath time
• moisturizing her skin right after the bath
• switching to a fragrance- and dye-free detergent

We tried the first three last night and it worked wonders. We happened to have been given some Aveeno Baby Soothing Relief Moisture Cream. I read the front for the first time last night and realized that it actually says RIGHT THERE ON THE FRONT that it helps "soothe and relieve the dryness eczema creates." And you know what? That shit WORKS. About ten minutes after applying the lotion, I noticed a HUGE difference in the redness and protrusion of the bumps. A lot of the bumps went away and the redness toned down by, oh, at least 80%. Her little elbows, which had it the worst and had been really red and bumpy were almost completely back to the normal color. There is still some bumpiness of course, but the texture is smoother and things are looking waaaay better.

(Dear Aveeno, you can send some free tubes of lotion for plugging your amazing product. I won't say no. I'll even do a giveaway. Just keep it in mind. No pressure.)

My sister, SIL, mother, grandfather-in-law, and probably some other family members I'm not aware of, all have eczema. Mr. Clean has allergies. Apparently having close family members with either of those conditions, or with asthma, can mean that it will be passed on to baby. Poor little girl never stood a chance!

I will keep you updated and let you know how this whole eczema thing goes. She has her two month appointment in two weeks. (Really? She's only like six weeks old? I swear she's older. Maybe like 4 or something.) (Okay, obviously not but you know what I mean. I've been home with her for a long time. The days run together. It feels like I've been here taking care of her for a LOT longer than six measly weeks.) Hopefully we've managed to get her delicate little ass regulated by then.

Oh, my leaking boobs.

My boobs leak like a couple of sieves! If I don't pump every three hours and instead wait maybe six hours (you know, to SLEEP like a normal person, in between feedings), the pads are FULL. And I have one boob that leaks about twice the amount of the other. What's with that? I'm going through breast pads faster than she's going through diapers!

What's worse, if I hold her and haven't pumped in a while, they leak under my bra because the pads are full and then my shirt gets soaked. I've even had nights where I woke up not because she woke me up, but because my right boob leaked ALL OVER in bed. (That's the boob that leaks double. It also produces about an ounce more, on average, when I pump. I have no idea why.) Sometimes I'll go through a couple shirts in a day due to leakage. (Luckily I'm at home. Can you imagine what a pain in the ass this would be if I'd had to return to work?)

In late June I'll be helping with a volleyball camp at the high school I coach at. It's an all day event for four days, and I'm trying to figure out how to make it work, what with my boobs being like pin-pricked water balloons and all. The few options I have aren't very appealing. I can rush over to my grandparents' place during lunch (they live just down the street from the high school) and pump then, or I can try locking myself in the bathroom and pumping there. I have a car adapter but I think I might get arrested if I try pumping in the school parking lot. That probably wouldn't go over well.

TGFNT

(Thank Goodness For Nap Time)

Baby is passed out for a mega-nap IN HER CRIB. The reason for caps? We've been letting her sleep in her bouncy chair pretty much all the time so the transition to the crib has been, well...a transition. She doesn't hate the crib but she's not used to it. Plus, if she had her way, she'd sleep on my chest or Mr. Clean's and not anywhere else.

Shit. I jinxed myself. There she goes...

At least I got 15 minutes out of her. Maybe she'll go back to sleep. It was just a little cry. And now she's quiet again...

Nope.

Apparently she just needed the mute button, AKA the pacifier. (The usual terms are mute button and binky.)

Let's see how many more minutes the button just bought me. Let the countdown begin.

Hmmm, back to what I was trying to say. (Have you noticed that babies make you lose your point a lot more often than you did when you were baby-less? My god, I can't have a straightforward thought or conversation to save my life. My thoughts wander to other things, mini-topics about my main topic, and I get lost. Which I'm doing right now. Damn.) Oh yes, the crib. The bouncy chair. Well, it started because Baby was having issues breathing after feeding. Her little nose would get kind of plugged and she sounded more like a pig than a human because it caused her to snort incessantly. Having her sleep upright in the bouncy chair seemed to help quite a bit. And besides that, it's so easy to tote from room to room with that convenient handle.

But now, now that she has a normal human nose and not the teeniest, tiniest little nasal passages I've ever seen, because her nose has finally unsquished (you know, because at first they're all freaking smushed from being inside the womb and all) and she can breathe just fine after pounding back a bottle, I want her to sleep in the crib. I mean, that sucker was expensive. (Not that I paid for it. Grandma and Grandpa Bano paid for it. Because Grandma Bano can't help but buy everything she even thinks that Baby needs. But still.) And besides, at some point she will outgrow the bouncy chair and then where would we be? I mean, I don't want her to be a toddler trying to take a nap in that thing.

She's still asleep. In the crib. Thank god for the mute button. How do I know she's still asleep and not just lying awake in wait, ready to scream any second? Because I just checked. Which leads to the downside to having her in the crib: I can't see her. Sheesh, no wonder people co-sleep with their kids. I check on her every ten minutes. I'm one of THOSE moms. But at least she's in the crib and not in my bed. (I was warned by many a mom that let their babies into their beds that it was a bad idea. Glad I listened.) Besides, there's barely enough room for me, Mr. Clean and Boo Boo in the queen bed. Adding a fourth to the mix would require a bed upgrade that I don't have the money or the space for.

And speaking of money, why didn't anyone warn me that babies COST A FORTUNE?! Costco is getting even spendier lately, what with buying a box of diapers every few weeks and buying wipes only slightly less often. And the hospital bills--OH MY GOD. Let's just say that I am VERY glad that I am a teacher and have FABULOUS heath care insurance. How to people without it have babies? My insurance covers 90% which is UH-MAZING because a lot of people I know only have 80% coverage and many also have an out-of-pocket deductible to begin with. I may not make a ton of money as a teacher, but the heath coverage is worth it.

Shit. Mute button is out. Better take care of business. (I'm guessing there's some business in her diaper, too. Ah, joy.)

My fat ass is still here

Wow, being a SAHM is...boring. I'm sure part of it is due to the fact that Baby is still, well, a baby. It's not like she does much. Her basic functions are to eat, sleep and shart. She does play a little--we have a "gym" that she lays on and can swat at the toys that dangle from the arch above. (She was even trying to grab them today!) But there just isn't much going on, so there's not much to blog about. Sorry guys!

The one thing that I guess I could spend some time bitching about is my weight. Now that Baby is a month old, it's time to get back on the weight loss wagon. I was actually on it before Baby and had been doing really well. There was a contest I had entered and won at the gym I go to. It started last January (back in 2009) and ended in April. I managed to lose almost 20 pounds (and gain a lot of muscle) at the time. Then I lost about 7 more pounds before finding out I was pregnant July of 2009. Now, after having Baby, I'm pretty much back to the weight I was at before I started the gym contest. This is good in a way because it means I've lost around 25-30 pounds since I had her. It just sucks because I feel like I'm starting all over again. ARGH.

When I was on the wagon, I was really on it. I exercised 5-6 days a week and was eating clean. (Eating clean is when you are eating whole foods--nothing processed or refined.)  I know I'm not going to be able to jump right back in and pick up where I left off but I want to get started. For me, the first step is always getting the exercise into my routine. Once I get that established, eating correctly (and not stuffing my face with everything possible) usually follows easily because I don't want to screw up and basically cancel out the exercise.

This week my goal is to work out at least three times. I think that's a reasonable goal to start with. I'm not willing to impose any other restrictions on myself at this time because who knows what's to come. Things are different now with Baby in the mix and I know I can't just hop off to the gym any time I please, but I miss the way I felt when I was exercising and eating well. It's going to be a process to get back to that point, that's for sure. Wish me luck!

I give in...

Okay, I know you want to see her so...

Here are a couple of pictures of Baby. They're "old" now, because I took them when she was about two weeks old and she's now FOUR weeks old. Holy crap, where did the time go?

(Major bonus: Only five more months of pumping!!!)

(Downside: I still have five more months of pumping. My nips are killing me. That's probably TMI, but that's why you come here.)

Okay...pics...

I realize she looks a little cross-eyed in the second pic, but I can assure your her eyes are normal...and BLUE! I'm sooo glad she got Mr. Clean's blue eyes. I know that babies usually have blue eyes to start out with, but hers seem to keep lightening and don't seem to be turning brown, so my fingers are crossed that I'm right on this one.

(She did manage to get his nose. Did I already say this somewhere? I know I told you I was hoping it wouldn't happen. Well, it did. But it doesn't look too bad. Not that it could look bad. She's freaking adorable. Hopefully it's a mild version of his nose. That would be manageable.)

This week's mission is to look into getting daycare lined up. I'll have to return to work a little early because I coach high school volleyball in the fall. Tryouts start a couple weeks before school starts, so I have to start taking her in early August. Apparently it's VERY hard to get a spot for an infant, so I need to get myself on a waiting list or two right now. I don't even want to think about how much it's gonna cost. Ugh. Luckily Mr. Clean is getting some overtime at work.

Okay, time to go make some coffee and become half human upon its consumption. I'm swooning just thinking about it.

I love the Zappos.com commercials. They're so clever and funny. I actually laugh out loud at them. (It's the little things. I'm easy to please.)

RTT: Multitasking Mommy

I'm ready for Random Tuesday Thoughts, once again! Nice to be back in the swing of bloggy-things...

• I'm learning to type one-handed so I can hold Baby and blog at the same time. It's a slower process but it cuts down on the fussing. Not that she really fusses too much. Luckily. (Knock on wood.)
• Baby is relatively easy-going. She only cries when she's really super hungry or needs to be changed after a nice big shart. (I'm pretty sure she's usually screaming something along the lines of Feed me, bitch! or Change me, bitch!)
• I just fed her and she looks high. Apparently breast milk is her drug of choice. "Intervention," here we come.
• Glee is on tonight!!! Enough said. If you're not a Gleek, you can't understand and I don't expect you to.
• I'm debating on whether or not to post pictures of Baby. I am trying to keep things pretty anonymous on here and posting pictures will definitely hinder that. However, I know you guys would like to see her. (And she really is freaking cute.) Sigh...
• Anyone watch Dexter?  I am a big Dexter fan. When the latest season was on, I kept up with the episodes via On Demand. Then I neglected to watch the last two episodes until it was too late and they weren't on anymore. I was pissed. Luckily they brought the episodes back and I got to finish out the season...and holy crap, it was a doozy! (I won't ruin it in case you haven't seen it or intend to watch it someday.) I also really like True Blood, U.S. of Tara, and Nurse Jackie. (Nurse Jackie is freaking hilarious. This season is already impressing me, and we're only three episodes in. If you have Showtime, you have to check it out. And if you don't, rent season one. You won't be disappointed.)
• So Mr. Clean inquired about the blog...and is reading it as we speak. This should be interesting. 
• Boo Boo (the dog) and Baby are both sleeping. Boo Boo is in Mr. Clean's lap and it's just freaking adorable. I wish I had the camera.
• I bought Mederma for Stretch Marks. Actually Mr. Clean went and hunted the shit down and finally found it at Walgreens. I have a TON of the damn things on my belly now, thanks to Baby. They didn't appear until the last month of my pregnancy. I thought I was home free and then BAM, fucking stretch marks all over my belly.  I really hope it works because those fuckers are UGLY.

That's probably enough random for one day. My last post was pretty random too, so it's like a twofer this week. You are sooo welcome.

Welcome to Motherhood

• My boobs hurt. Pumping sucks. I'm sure it would be just as bad if she was breastfeeding. Oh, and the onset of mastitis, TWICE, fucking sucks as well. Apparently I HAVE to pump every three hours or my boobs will retaliate. Freaking A.
• She makes the cutest faces when she's sleeping. And when she's awake. She's just damn cute.
• She sure shits a lot. Actually, I should say that she sharts a lot. (For those of you not in the know, that's a cross between a shit and a fart.) My god, she is a super sharter. And she alsmost ALWAYS does it when I'm feeding her, so it reverberates through my lap. It has literally STARTLED me several times, it is that loud and powerful. (She gets if from her father. Oh, and she's doing it as I type this. Luckily she's in her bouncy chair. Hopefully it's not another blowout.)
• Only getting to sleep for about three consecutive hours max really blows. Everyone warned me but you can't possibly understand until it's really happening. 
• (I decided to change the diaper. There was no poop. Um...that's some SERIOUS gas kid!)
• Someone asked me if I'm surprised by how many diapers she goes through. No. I am surprised by the number of wipes we've already been through. It's a good thing we got the Costco crate.
• (Oh, she's sharting again. There's the poop I was looking for earlier. Man, that kid can really blow it out her butt.)

Well, time to go pump. Again. And then take a nap while Mr. Clean takes over Baby duty.

The Saga of Baby - The Scary Part

There is absolutely no way I could give every detail about the ensuing days in the hospital because I was sleep deprived and emotionally unstable, so here's a synopsis of the scary shit that happened next.

We ended up in the hospital for essentially three days after baby was born--24 hours is the standard for releasing mommies back into the wild with their newborns. At first it was just that the pediatrician thought she could use some extra recovery time. (I'd had a lot of drugs. Really good drugs.)

Then it turned into something else. She wouldn't freaking eat.

Mr. Clean and I are pigs. Well, that may be a slight over-exaggeration, but not by much. So how this kid came out and would not eat was baffling. I have a feeling it was in large part due to the drugs because she would simply fall asleep at my boob every time I tried to feed her. Most of the time she would latch but then she wouldn't suck. It was the weirdest thing and eventually it became a scary thing because she lost a lot of birth weight. Although it's typical to lose some, she lost too much--at least 10% is when the doctors become concerned. She went from 7lbs 13oz to 7lbs 0.6oz between Monday evening (when she was born) and Wednesday evening, when we were transferred to the pediatric unit of the hospital.

I have never been so emotional. It still makes me tear up and want to cry again just thinking about the whole thing. There were several nurses that were trying to help with breastfeeding from the get go, but all the "help" began to wear on me. Plus, several of the different nurses and lactation consultants were actually giving different instructions or advice, so it was overwhelming and confusing.

Once we'd been transferred to the pediatric unit, we were put on a routine where she had to eat every two hours. This meant I was to try breastfeeding for 30 minutes, then feed her formula if she wouldn't breastfeed (which she wouldn't...so bottle feeding took about 30 minutes), then I would have to pump for 15 minutes. After that I had to wash the pumping equipment and then maybe pee and get to squeeze in a 30 minute nap. We did that from about 9:00 p.m. Wednesday night to like 12:00 p.m. the next day. I was going out of my mind. However, in the back of my mind was I am NOT letting them put a feeding tube in you. Yes, the nurse and the doctor had mentioned this as a possibility if she wouldn't gain weight. No pressure or anything. Jesus, I was a mess when I heard that...and every time I let the possibility slip into the forefront of my mind.

Finally at some point on Thursday, one of the lactation consultants decided that feeding her every two hours and not getting any sleep was CRAZY and pushed it to every three hours. That may not seem like much, but it was a HUGE relief. I had been going on basically no sleep and so was Mr. Clean. We were EXHAUSTED and VERY EMOTIONAL and the nurses and doctors could tell. I think I got to nap for a whole hour at that point. It was glorious.

Thursday afternoon they weighed Baby again to see if she'd gained anything. We were on pins and needles. We wanted to take her home so badly--to get out of that god forsaken hospital and become real people again. And we desperately wanted to hear that she was healthy. (Doesn't every mom want to hear that?) The results...she'd gained 4.4 ounces in just 12 hours. We were ecstatic. Surely this had to mean we could go home! But we had to wait for the on call pediatrician to tell give us the final word.

Luckily, he agreed that she was ready to go home. Besides that, she needed to be out of his "dirty ward" with all the germs and unhealthy children. She was a healthy baby and didn't belong there anymore. HELL YES! We were going home!

Baby eats plenty now. My milk came in about day five, so we could stop supplementing with formula and give her breast milk. She still would not take the breast so I gave up and we bottle feed. (I have to pump which blows but I am willing to make the sacrifice for her cute little butt.) It's fine with me because it's so convenient, plus it also allows her to bond with Mr. Clean during feedings.  (He is so damn good with her. It's freaking adorable.) As proof of her chunkiness, she was at 8 lbs 6 oz at her two week visit and I am pretty sure she's gained plenty more since then.

And, as if on cue, guess who's hungry?

The Saga of Baby - Part Two of The Birth

Let's see...looks like I left off with wanting to take a poo and the nurse wanting me to practice pushing. Hmmm.

So, we got into position--mom holding one leg and Mr. Clean holding the other--and started pushing on the next contraction. (Mr. Clean did not "look under the hood," in case anyone is wondering. I think that was probably a wise decision on his part.)

Here was the nurse's reaction: "Wow, you're a really effective pusher!" She said this more than once during the first couple of pushes.

The problem with this? After two pushes (well, two sets I guess, since you push around 3 times per contraction) she was a little worried because I was TOO effective. Baby was COMING and the doctor was still moseying on over. Oops. So on the next contraction I was instructed to just relax and not push.

Luckily the doc arrived moments later. Have I told you that he reminds me of Chef on South Park? Big black guy with a deep voice, very relaxed and cool. Oh, and he looks like chef too! He even said something about getting "G'd up" and ready for the delivery. (My mom recalls this--I was a bit drugged out.)

(I have to digress a little here. Earlier in the day the doc didn't have time to come see me when he thought he would. My sister's quip? That he must be "busy saving the world, one vagina at a time." God she's hilarious.)

Back to pushing. Once the doc was G'd up and ready for me, I had to push maybe 4 or 5 more times--yes, really!--and wallah, a baby came out! Unfortunately, she decided to come out like superman in his "up, up and away" mode--one fist in the air. Guess what that meant for me? TEARING. Ugh. So I have stitches. DOWN THERE. Not fun. I think I already mentioned this meant minus points for Baby. (But she gets like +1,000,000 because she's so damn cute now.)

When she came out, it was kind of like having a bowling ball sitting on your abdomen for about 3 months and then someone finally takes it off.  Such a relief!

So Baby was here and healthy, but unfortunately things went downhill from there for a couple of days. That's coming next. (Don't worry too much--we are back on track and everything is all good in the 'hood now.)

The Saga of Baby - Part One of The Birth

The week Baby was born was CRAZY. That's the easiest way to describe it. If I had to use every adjective that would apply, we'd be here for a while.

I went in to the hospital Sunday evening under the impression that I was being given meds and then coming back on Monday. WRONG. They were giving me cervadil (sp?) and I was being ADMITTED. Oops. Luckily I had planned ahead and had Mr. Clean pack the car with everything we were going to bring anyway, just in case. It's a good thing I got that "just in case" gene from my mother. It came in handy.

Once I kind of settled into my room, we discovered I was beginning contractions on my own. I have a feeling that unexpectedly being admitted had something to do with it, but at least they didn't have to give me the meds to get things started. So they let me continue because I was making enough progress. I did start to get some anxiety and feeling shaky so they ended up giving me something to take the edge off. Remember how I was thinking I didn't want the narcotics? FUCK THAT. The drugs were awesome and allowed me to relax and get a little sleep.

Then they started the pitocin at 5 AM Monday. I started having stronger contractions and at one point was ready to KILL someone for my epi. They wanted me to be at least 3 cm dilated and I was only at about 1 1/2 or 2 so I had to wait about an hour. That last hour was excruciatingly painful. I remember trying to think of what to compare it to and somehow the best I could come up with is that it's like having the worst charlie horse of your life but it's stretched across your stomach and it's about a thousand times more painful. Anyway, after an hour the nurse checked me again and I was so close that stretched me to 3 so I could finally get numbed up.

Getting the epi was interesting and irritating. The anesthesiologist tried to administer it while I was lying down on my side but it was too difficult for him to find the right spot so I had to sit up. Plus, I had to be PERFECTLY STILL while he was poking me a thousand times in the back AND I was having ridiculously strong contractions. I don't know how I did it, but I did (Mr. Clean was very helpful and supportive during the epi) and once it took over, I was out like a light. I wasn't feeling the contractions and could finally get some good rest so I totally did.

I woke up around three or four hours later and although I could still feel the pressure of the contractions, I was okay pain-wise. The epi was going to be gone soon though, so the nurse debated whether or not to have the anesthesiologist give me an extra (albeit much smaller) dose to get me through. They ended up doing it, but I guess my blood pressure and the baby's heart rate increased slightly. My mother was in the room and noticed this and the nurse had me lay on my side which helped. My blood pressure was something that we had been monitoring quite a bit during the birth because it had elevated a bit a couple of times.

After just a bit, the nurse checked me and I was fully dilated so she called the doctor to have him mosey on over soon. (His office is just across the street from the hospital.) She asked if I felt the need to push and I didn't, so we waited a bit. Later she asked again, and I have to tell you the only thing I felt like I was ready to push out was a good poo, so I asked her if that meant anything which apparently it DID. Who knew? So she wanted to try some practice pushes, which was fine with me. Hey, let's get this show on the road!

To be continued...

A Baby Is Born

Baby is officially here! She was born yesterday in the evening after many hours of contractions, not too much pushing and a whole lotta stitches. (Someone decided to come out Superman style, causing mommy to tear. Minus points for you, Baby.)

I feel like I ran a marathon that I was NOT trained for. Everything is sore, from my legs to my shoulders and everything in between.

She looks just like her daddy when he was born. Lots of strawberry blond peach fuzz on her head, blue eyes, and that dreaded  nose. I thinks she got my lips. Not sure about those ears yet...we'll have to see how they turn out.

I'll post more later. The endless stream of visitors, nurses, and other interrupters never ends...

Scattered Thoughts

Since I won't be around much, here are some scattered thoughts (a little like an early RTT if you will) to tide you over...

1. Mr. Clean likes to do the following to my pregnant belly:

• Rub it and ask if I'm smuggling watermelons.
• Rub it and say, "There's a cantaloupe in there."
• Put his hand on it in the middle of the night and feel for baby kicks. Sometimes this becomes rather uncomfortable, but I pretend I don't mind because it's so dang cute.
• Kiss my belly and talk to the baby. He usually asks her questions like, "Whatcha doin' in there?"
• Feels my belly button (which is still an inny, thank god) and asks if my "turkey timer" has popped out yet.
• Pretend to press my belly button and that, in doing so, my vagina essentially explodes and the baby comes out too. Sound effects and all.

2. I will be buying stock in Mederma. I didn't have any stretch marks up until this last month. And now that she's overdue, they've basically doubled. Thank you so much, Baby, for my newfound sexiness. Argh.

3. I keep seeing the commercial for the new Lysol soap dispenser that you don't have to touch. Their ad is all about how incredibly germy a regular soap dispenser is so why on earth would you want to touch it? Oh my god--germs!!!

Here's my line of thinking: Once you get the soap on your hands (and possibly some germs from that doggone regular soap pump), YOU WASH YOUR FUCKING HANDS. And if you do it right, the germs are gone. I think people are just too fucking dumb to put the sequencing together--or incredibly germophobic.

4. If I have to see that "potty dance" commercial one more time, I may scream. Why is there some random old guy playing guitar and teaching your kids how to do the potty dance? isn't that a bit creepy? And by the way, I have DONE the potty dance and it does NOT look like that. It looks like jumping up and down with my legs crossed while I pray that I don't pee my pants. He's leaving vital parts of the dance out. That just ain't right.

5. Avert your eyes if you're allergic to TMI... Okay, you were warned. I lost my mucous plus in the wee hours of the morning (which I discovered when I went wee wee at my typical 2:30 AM time). Then I started having some mild contractions through the next couple hours but I managed to kind of sleep through them. I woke up ravenous at about 5:30 AM, had some cereal, went back to bed, tossed and turned for a bit, and finally fell back asleep. Then I woke up at 9:30 AM completely ravenous once again and also with a few mild contractions. Perhaps having contractions makes a pregnant woman hungry? Anyway, I am hoping this (the contractions part of it) means that Baby plans to come today and that I won't have to be induced after all. (Probably wishful thinking, but I'm used to the disappointment by now.)

New Header

Alright, I got bored today (can't say that for much longer, so I'm totally taking advantage here) and decided to try my hand at making a new header. I'm not super creative and Photoshop Elements is somewhat limiting, so this is what I came up with.

Thoughts?

Come out already!!!

Baby is still holed up inside my uterus. She had decided she really likes it in there.

Fuck.

She was due Saturday. Now she's 4 days overdue. And there is NO sign that she's planning to make an arrival anytime soon. Things are closed up tight. No contractions. Nada.

Fuckity Fuck.

So the doctor has scheduled me for an induction on Monday. We would have been inducing on Friday, but Mr. Clean had to go and screw it up with a job interview. Damn him and his desire to make more money and further his career. So Monday it is.

Fucking A.

Hopefully she will suddenly decide, Hey, I'd like to be born! and she'll come before that. PLEASE DEAR GOD. Because a week and two days overdue seems like a lot. That seems like an eternity. And it seems like she'll be about 20 lbs by then.

I'll keep ya posted.

Spin Cycle: Behind the Scenes @ Bano Bits

Behind the scenes, huh? Like there's something special or amazing going on that people are dying to discover? Sorry folks, it's like Oz here--just little old me behind a curtain with a big booming microphone known as the blogosphere.

My blog started out as a few different things. At one point it was going to be a way to let family and friends know what was happening in my life. However, since no one really read it (and since I very rarely updated it), that fell to the wayside. Later I picked it back up as a way to share my art and photography, but again, if no one knows you exist, there's really no point.

Baby is what really got things moving for me blog-wise. I had been reading some "mommy blogs" out there and just loved how they expressed their trials, tribulations, joys and celebrations on their sites. The humor and wit kept me coming back. I wondered, Hey, could I do that? Well, maybe I wasn't going to make anyone laugh as hard as some of you guys have made me laugh, but I figured it would be a fun experiment. Plus, it was a great way to express what I've been going through with the pregnancy. I hoped for feedback from others and, much to my surprise, I got some.

I like blogging but sometimes I wish I could say more, especially about work. There are some days I just need to VENT about that place! Buuuuut, VodkaMom has been put through the ringer due to sharing too much about work and had some great advice about how to avoid letting it happen to you. I took the advice and also decided that having pseudonyms would help ensure that I don't become "discovered," although I'm sure someday it's bound to happen anyway. Fortunately I'm not Dooce or anything, so I doubt anyone I know is going to find this place, put two and two together, and out me to the world. I mean, they'd actually have to FIND it first!

That's pretty much it. I intend to keep blogging now that I have a little community that I enjoy sharing with. Baby will probably make it difficult to keep up with (if she ever comes...) but I know you all understand. That's part of what makes the community so awesome. Support from strangers--who would have thought it would be so important to me?!

You'll be the first to know

No, I am not having a baby yet. And the next person who calls or Facebooks or texts me to ask is going to get punched in the face. Because guess what, people? This is the 21st Century and I will LET YOU KNOW, I promise. I have a cell phone, the hospital has wireless for my laptop, and I am pretty sure that they also have those ancient things called phones (you know, the ones that rely on a land line?). So again, I WILL LET YOU KNOW. The reason I haven't called to let you know? BECAUSE NOTHING IS HAPPENING.

And why is everyone trying to tell me how to get Baby out of the womb? I'm not all that earnest to evict her. She'll come when she's ready. I swear ten people today had advice for me on the various ways to get her to make her debut. I DIDN'T ASK. Shit, my due date isn't even until tomorrow. I know they mean well, I really do, but (once again...seems like a recurring complaint) it's just freaking annoying.

I am not-so-eagerly anticipating all the unsolicited advice I'll start getting once she finally does arrive. If you think I'm bitchy now, just wait. Start looking for people with black eyes in my neighborhood.

I didn't get an Oscar, but...

...I DID get an award based on monkey balls. Okay, well not quite. But holy fucking monkey balls, I got an award for blogging. Hells yeah! Thanks to Vandy over at The Testosterone Three & Me, I am an award-winning blogger! Take that, Dooce! I am hot on your tail. I'll have my own HGTV show in no time.

Now if I can just figure out how to post it...

RTT: It's been a while

Dude, I'm exhausted and I haven't even DONE anything. Baby is due Saturday and I can tell we're getting close. Not because I'm dilated or anything though. (Oh no, things are closed up tight. She's patiently waiting for her eviction notice. It'll probably take an act of congress to get her out.)

So me being tired is really why I haven't blogged. Plus, there's not much going on. Life is surprisingly boring right now. (I know, I know. Just wait a few days or so. I'll be eating those words with a side of crow. And hopefully washing it down with a glass of wine.)

Anyone notice I use parenthesis a lot? I love them. My mind wanders a lot and I have all these little "asides" that I feel I must add. Parenthesis are helpful little containers for my randomness. (Anyone remember that song that was like "I love you period/do you love me questions mark/please, please exclamation point/I wanna hold you in parenthesis"? My parenthesis comment made me remember that song. Hmmm.)

There is one parapro where I work that pops into my room every morning and exclaims, "You're still here?!" Um, yeah. I am. If I wasn't, you wouldn't see me. DUH. I know she's just checking in and all, and she really is a nice person, but GOD IT'S ANNOYING AS HELL. Last time I just said, "Yep, I'm here until I'm not here." Because, well, DUH.

A friend is in labor at the hospital and is updating her Facebook every once in a while which I think is AWESOME. Seriously. I can't be there but I can stalk her via Facebook. Plus, now I know that we get free wireless at the hospital. I'm totally bringing my laptop and you'd better believe I will be updating my Facebook status with every contraction. Shit, maybe I'll even blog about how painful it is and WHERE ARE MY FUCKING DRUGS?!? The world needs to know.

Three whole paragraphs without parenthesis. Go me! (What are the odds? Oops. Shit.)

Is it pathetic that I am VERY excited that the dresser we want to get for Baby's room is on sale at Target this week? We were going to get it the week before but decided to wait until Mr. Clean gets paid tomorrow since we were already blowing $125 there that day. (Target and Costco are IMPOSSIBLE to get out of for less than $100. It's a scientific fact. Look it up.) The dresser is like $40 off this week and I am super stoked we waited. It must be a sign...that I need to go spend more money at Target.

Okay, that's all I've got today. Pretty much nothing. Do yourself a favor and go visit someone from my list on the right because they are MUCH more interesting and funny than I am.

Um...what?

My mother-in-law just called to see how the baby is doing. When I told her there was no dilation, she decided to inform me that I could jump start the process by jumping Mr. Clean's bones.

I HAVE NO WORDS.

RTT: All the weewee home

Went to the doctor yesterday for an OB appointment. I am 50% effaced! I'm glad things are moving along but hopefully there won't be too much progress until late next week. I need to keep working until then, although I wish I didn't have to. I REALLY don't want to be at work lately. I'm so uncomfortable all the time! It's also making me super grouchy, which has its benefits when dealing with middle schoolers. They certainly didn't fuck with me today.

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I feel like I have to pee ALL THE TIME. And I also feel like I'm leaking pee, even if I'm not. (Sometimes I am. Just a teeny bit. I know--eeewwww!) I think I went to the bathroom about a hundred times today even though there really wasn't anything much in my bladder. Deep breath...10 more days.

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Yesterday I finally had this feeling of I want to hold her. I haven't felt that yet--I've been to petrified of all the crazy changes that she will bring. But I was thinking about her arrival and I just finally was ready for it; for her. I guess I'm in the acceptance stage.

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I really dislike the feeling of not being in control (just ask Mr. Clean--oh the stories he could tell you). This is making me think really long and hard about whether or not I'll want the narcotic medications during labor. I had my wisdom teeth out a couple years ago and I HATED the feeling of the drugs, especially when they tried using the gas. I'm sure that in the heat of the moment, when I'm in a whole LOTTA pain, I may just yell GIVE ME THE DRUGS NOW!!! but right now it skeeves me out.

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Mr. Clean is quite convinced I will either punch him in the face or pull a complete Exorcist-style bag of bat-shit crazy on him while I'm in labor.

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What's your best advice with regard to labor? I wanna hear it.

Spin Cycle: Confessions

I must confess, first of all, that the Usher song "Confessions" started running through my head as soon as I read the title for this week's Spin Cycle.

Oh, but that's not my REAL confession. It's just, like, an extra. A bonus. (You're welcome!)

I could confess my absolute TERROR about becoming a mom in just a few short weeks, but I've already done that. It's still there though. It's like a teeny little monster that lives inside of me, surfacing occasionally just to drive the PANIC deeper into my soul. I really hate that monster.

So, I am going to confess how EXCITED I am that I won't have to go back to work this year. (Unless Baby makes an early appearance. She'd better not. If she tries to make an escape, I'm going to cross my legs until she gets the picture.) I hate to brag about it, and I'm really not trying to, but I am just so happy that I don't have to worry about arranging two or three weeks of daycare or try to juggle my schedule against Mr. Clean's in order to make it work out. It was an enormous relief to find out that I could just barely eek by with the amount of leave I have saved up (for this very purpose, I might add) since I became a teacher four years ago.

In the same realm, I must also confess that I have started the downhill, I-don't-give-a-rat's-ass slide that I believe many teachers fall into in the weeks before they are due. There's just this aura of "Who cares?" that seems to surround me. My students are talking? Eh. They're middle schoolers. They talk. Grading papers? I'll get to it...eventually. Meetings? Perfect time to zone out. After all, I won't be here for X, Y or Z that they're discussing anyway. But the thing is, this is totally UNLIKE me. I'm usually way into work--staying late, always caught up on grading so I can hound students about missing work, and busy being the meanest teacher in the entire school. (Okay, well I may not be the meanest, but I try.)

GLEE!

OMG, Glee is coming back soon! Joy! Rapture!

I just saw the commercial. I almost peed a little!!! (Good thing I'm packin' protection downstairs these days in case, you know, I sneeze or laugh or cough.)

I'm a total Gleek. Not crazy, stalkerish Gleeky. But I have both of the CD's. And it's set for a season pass on my TiVo. That's going to come in handy because there's a good chance Baby won't always agree that watching Glee is at the top of her to-do-right-now list.

Any other Gleeks out there?

Random Tuesday Thoughts: Pullin' the Plug

Mr. Clean and I attended a prepared childbirth class this weekend. Since I procrastinated and waited until the last possible moment to sign up for a class, our best option was the two Sunday classes that are FOUR HOURS EACH. At least it's not a waste of our time. It was a great experience for Mr. Clean because I've been reading the books but I don't share all of the information with him, so there's a lot he didn't know about. He's becoming well educated in the area of pregnancy and birth. (And he's getting really good at back rubs. We practiced in class but I'm thinking we need to practice at home, too. Just in case.)

Anyway, we've had a joke since around Thanksgiving that Baby might "reach for the plug" and try to come early. Now, I knew about the mucous plug because I'd read the books, but Mr. Clean wasn't aware that there was an ACTUAL plug--until yesterday. His eyes nearly bugged out of his head when they mentioned the loss of the mucous plug during the movie. He leaned over and whispered (grinning like the Cheshire Cat), "I didn't know there was REALLY a plug!" He's still talking about it today. You'd think he'd discovered there really IS a Santa Claus.

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I think I might actually watch "American Idol" this year. I got hooked on the auditions somehow and noticed there is some real talent this year. Any AI fans out there? Who do you think is a front runner? I don't know their names, but I sure like the guy that did Paul Abdul's "Straight Up" and that chick with the horrible teeth dreadlocks.

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I was reading Heather's blog today and am VERY excited at the prospect of breastfeeding because she lost 20 lbs in like TWO WEEKS. Um, sign me up for that!!!  My goal is to lose all of the 40ish lbs weight that I've gained before the end of the summer. That gives me some wiggle room since I'm pretty sure it won't be as easy to get the gym as it was pre-Baby.

Mr. Clean goes practically every evening. He looks good. None of that sympathy weight that lots of dads gain. Nope. He left it to me to gain all the weight. And then some. Definitely enough for both of us--and maybe for the dog, too.

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I really, REALLY hope Baby gets Mr. Clean's eyes. He has these beautiful blue eyes (mine are just poopy brown) and really long lashes. My lashes are blonde and short and if I'm not wearing mascara, I look like I don't even HAVE lashes. I really hope she doesn't get his nose though. Please, dear God, no. It works for him, but I think I would have to put funds aside for a nose job if she got his nose. For her sixteenth birthday she can get a car or a nose job. (Okay, I'm totally joking. Mostly.)

Spin Cycle: I can't live without...

I'm having a hard time with this one because there are several things I can't live without. I mean, I probably could if I was forced to, but let's not go there if it's not necessary. I'm already living without wine and brie. I may have to do serious harm if you took any of these away from me:

Coffee/Caffeine
I looove coffee. I could drink it all the time, many times a day if (A) I wouldn't have a heart attack as a result and (B) it didn't cost an arm and a leg to buy one. (Starbucks, you are killing my bank account!) During this pregnancy, I have learned to live without the delightfully upbeat effect that caffeine gives me. I still have my morning Starbucks (my to the financial dismay of Mr. Clean, who continues to tout that we should own stock because I am probably keeping their Western Division in business...or whatever) but I get decaf. Decaf is BORING. I still get the taste I love but I don't get the cracked-out high buzz. That AM buzz is what gets me going in the mornings--or at least it used to.

Last year my students could tell when I hadn't had my morning cup 'o joe. They also knew it was no time to fuck with me. Those were quiet mornings.

Mr. Clean
Oh. My. God. Can I just say how fucked up my shit would be without that man? (That's technical terminology, just so you know.) He keeps me organized, on time, and happy. He keeps the house clean, pays the bills, and does all the yardwork. If I listed everything he does around here, you would start to wonder what I actually do. (Admittedly, it's close to nothing. Yesterday I emptied AND loaded the dishwasher. That hasn't happened in YEARS. He was ready to get the camera out and document it.)

Mr. Clean is probably one of the hardest working people I know. He deserves to be on Oprah or something. You know those episodes where you surprise your spouse and then Oprah gives them all sorts of cool stuff for being an amazing person? Yeah, he should be on one of those episodes. (Preferably the one where she gives him a vacation. For two.)

Facebook
In an earlier post, I mentioned my addiction to Facebook. It's similar in strength to my addiction to coffee. I love "communicating" with people in this simplistic format. You can see what they're up to without having to call and have an actual conversation. I don't mind talking on the phone, but Suzie Q from high school that I haven't talked to since graduation isn't really on my list of people to call and have a gab session with. Much easier to see her status update and click "Like" or leave a short 'n sweet comment.

I also can't go a day without playing enjoy some of the games on there. Yes, I'm one of those lame people that play things like Farmville and Restaurant City. It's fun! (Who wouldn't want to run a farm without ever having to get dirty? Plus there are green alien cows. Um, awesome.) Oh, and they have SCRABBLE! Who doesn't love a good game of Scrabble? (Okay, I am a total word nerd and have no problem admitting that. I just have problems spelling now that I'm thinking for two.)

Random Tuesday Thoughts

A couple of days ago, I was leaving a Facebook message on a friend's wall. (By the way, I am ADDICTED to Facebook. It's bad. Baaaaad.) I was going to say something was "right up his alley" but I could NOT remember how to spell alley all of a sudden. At first I typed "ally" but I knew that wasn't right. So of course, I went to dictionary.com and checked and I was right--about being wrong. So typical.

So then I started thinking that, surely, alley was a word because I've been using it for decades and, for god's sake, used to even have one behind my house when I was little. How the shit do you spell it? I tried other spellings that I KNEW were wrong (allie, for example) and finally just gave up. Defeated. Okay, I am a TEACHER people. A language arts teacher. And, typically, a pretty good speller. So the fact that the spelling of this stupid little word eluded me for something like 30 minutes was ridiculous/humbling/humiliating/irritating as hell.

Finally, instead of saying that whatever it was that I was writing about was "up his alley" I had to think of something else to say. Bah! Then like, oh, 30 minutes after this whole debacle, it just POPPED INTO MY HEAD. A-l-l-E-y. Duh. Of course! Why didn't I think of that?! Oh. My. God.

I think the string of expletives that escaped my mouth at this realization would rival the length of the Great Wall. Okay, I'm exaggerating. But not really.

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Speaking of expletives and realizations, Mr. Clean and I have come to the conclusion that, at some point, Baby will arrive (SOON!) and we will have to stop cursing like sailors. Dirty, potty mouthed sailors that love to use cuss words for every part of the English language. (Need a verb? Fuck/Fucked/Fucking! Need an adjective? Fucking/Fuckable/Fuckalicious! You get my point. We love the F-bomb in this house. Fuck yeah!)

My parents are starting to figure out they, too, will have to stop cursing so much. (I get the F-bomb usage from them. I was the playground Cuss Queen in the third grade. No joke. I wish I had a crown and a sash to prove it.) I'm not sure how we will all communicate. It's going to make conversation difficult. We will actually have to THINK before speaking. The horror!

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My dog is an addict. She's addicted to dog bones. You think I'm joking, but if you try to take away her crack--er, I mean bone--she will tear your ass apart. Like good parents, we keep giving her more, feeding her addiction. I believe this is known as enabling. Yup, we're enablers. She's going to end up on "Intervention." You just wait.

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I just erased three paragraphs because they sucked and really, there was no point to what I was saying. You're welcome.