This morning I was sitting at my desk, trying to talk myself into working when really all I wanted to do was go home, take a nap and play with the baby, when the phone rings. It was Chris, my stay-at-home-daddy brother-in-law that watches Walker for us while we toil in hell. Instantly my heart plunged into my stomach. What was wrong? Had the baby rolled off the bed? Had the girls shoved a pencil up his nose to see if he could write with it up there? What was wrong? DEAR GOD, PROTECT MY BABY!!!
So I answered the phone to hear a very somber sounding Chris:
Chris: "So I was feeding the baby and he started making this really weird noise."
My Mind: "Oh, no! Not throwing up again? What am I doing wrong!?! Why can't he go a whole month without projectile vomit? I'm a terrible mother! I've only been at this 6 months and already I'm unfit!!"
Me: "Yeah...?"
Chris: "So I looked down thinking 'what are you doing??'"
My Mind: "...and you found that not only had he barfed, but it was pure blood barf! There's something wrong with my baby!!! I'm on my way! HOLD ON, SON, MOMMY'S COMING!!!"
Me: "Uh-huh."
Chris: "And rather than eating, he was blowing air back through the nipple and blowing bubbles in his formula."
How cute is my kid? And how psycho am I!!
Showing posts with label motherhood. Show all posts
Showing posts with label motherhood. Show all posts
Friday, August 01, 2008
Monday, July 14, 2008
Updates and Such
Okay, so I suck at keeping up with my blog. Is that what you wanted to hear? That I'm a blogging failure? Cause you'd be right! And I've got nothing for excuses, other than they want me to actually work when I'm here (something about earning my paycheck), and at home I have an adorable baby and husband to attend to. So there you have it. Weak excuses, I know, but it's all I've got.
So Walker's tummy is continuing to be a pain in our collective asses. He's stopped the marathon pooping, though, but has now progressed into the occasional vomitting episode. Not just spit up, mind you. I'm talking full Exorcist pea soup projectile puking. Poor little thing. Though it really doesn't seem to bother him in the least. He barfs and then goes back to whatever little game he was playing before he evacuated his stomach. And it's not all the time. Just once a week-ish. And they weren't back to back. We did have a couple of weeks there where there were no delicate tummy issues. The doctor seems to think that he's just caught the stomach flu and is having a hard time getting rid of it. I'm hoping that's all it is.
On the up swing, he laughs all the time now and has mastered rolling from his tummy to his back, though back to tummy still remains elusive. I, personally, am of the opinion that he is resisting this feat because he can't see as much on his tummy as he can on his back, and he's a snoopy little thing. I'm not really sure where he gets that from. Must be from his father.
Trav's little sister got married in June, so Walker got a chance to meet his cousin from Alaska, who's merely one week older than him. I love that they're so close in age, though I wish Taya, Brian and Connor lived closer. Connor's cute as hell, though. And he's got more hair than I've seen on most adults, let alone a baby!! He's a little screamer, too. While Walker's been focusing on his physical development, Connor's been learning the intricacies of speech. Funny thing is that as soon as they had gone home to Alaska, Walker started screaming and Connor started rolling. Maybe it's better that they live so far apart!! If they're already playing off of one another in their babyhood, I'd hate to see them in their adolescence.
At any rate, I've got tons of pictures, so look for those coming soon to a blog near you.
So Walker's tummy is continuing to be a pain in our collective asses. He's stopped the marathon pooping, though, but has now progressed into the occasional vomitting episode. Not just spit up, mind you. I'm talking full Exorcist pea soup projectile puking. Poor little thing. Though it really doesn't seem to bother him in the least. He barfs and then goes back to whatever little game he was playing before he evacuated his stomach. And it's not all the time. Just once a week-ish. And they weren't back to back. We did have a couple of weeks there where there were no delicate tummy issues. The doctor seems to think that he's just caught the stomach flu and is having a hard time getting rid of it. I'm hoping that's all it is.
On the up swing, he laughs all the time now and has mastered rolling from his tummy to his back, though back to tummy still remains elusive. I, personally, am of the opinion that he is resisting this feat because he can't see as much on his tummy as he can on his back, and he's a snoopy little thing. I'm not really sure where he gets that from. Must be from his father.
Trav's little sister got married in June, so Walker got a chance to meet his cousin from Alaska, who's merely one week older than him. I love that they're so close in age, though I wish Taya, Brian and Connor lived closer. Connor's cute as hell, though. And he's got more hair than I've seen on most adults, let alone a baby!! He's a little screamer, too. While Walker's been focusing on his physical development, Connor's been learning the intricacies of speech. Funny thing is that as soon as they had gone home to Alaska, Walker started screaming and Connor started rolling. Maybe it's better that they live so far apart!! If they're already playing off of one another in their babyhood, I'd hate to see them in their adolescence.
At any rate, I've got tons of pictures, so look for those coming soon to a blog near you.
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
The Joys of Motherhood
Walker's sick. And not just "Sniff, sniff, I have a cold" sick. I mean the four diapers in one changing, you'd better be quick on the draw, multiple clothing changes for he and I sick. Poor little thing!! Last night he was up all night, pooping and eye rubbing, and just when I'd get him to sleep, he'd poop again and we'd have to start all over again.
So needless to say, I wasn't in the greatest of moods this morning when I felt his little body wriggling next to me in bed. Yes, I was letting him sleep in the bed with us and I don't want to hear it! It was the only way I could get him to sleep and if he was asleep, then I could be asleep and that was really the goal there: Daddy, Mommy and Walker all asleep at the same time. So Travis got up with him this time, changed him, fed him, and tried to play with him, but Walker wanted none of it. He fussed and then the fussing turned into crying and by then I was awake, so I figured what the hell, I was supposed to be up a half hour ago, so I'll just get up.
And as soon as he saw me, Walker stopped crying and broke into the sweetest, brightest, amazing smile. So, of course, my heart melted and suddenly the fatigue was okay. And when I bent down to talk to him, the smile got bigger and open mouthed and he giggled. GIGGLED! As if to say "hey, Mom, all that stuff last night? No hard feelings, 'kay?" And there weren't.
So needless to say, I wasn't in the greatest of moods this morning when I felt his little body wriggling next to me in bed. Yes, I was letting him sleep in the bed with us and I don't want to hear it! It was the only way I could get him to sleep and if he was asleep, then I could be asleep and that was really the goal there: Daddy, Mommy and Walker all asleep at the same time. So Travis got up with him this time, changed him, fed him, and tried to play with him, but Walker wanted none of it. He fussed and then the fussing turned into crying and by then I was awake, so I figured what the hell, I was supposed to be up a half hour ago, so I'll just get up.
And as soon as he saw me, Walker stopped crying and broke into the sweetest, brightest, amazing smile. So, of course, my heart melted and suddenly the fatigue was okay. And when I bent down to talk to him, the smile got bigger and open mouthed and he giggled. GIGGLED! As if to say "hey, Mom, all that stuff last night? No hard feelings, 'kay?" And there weren't.
Thursday, May 15, 2008
Lamentations of a Working Mommy
Last week I returned to work after three blissful months at home with my beautiful new son. Being at home alone with your first child is trying. The first day Travis had to return to work and I was officially on my own, I cried most of the day. I felt lonely and inadequate and very, very scared. Not that I didn't know how to care for an infant. I've done my fair share of sitting and nannying. But then I could defer to the parent when an important decision needed to be made. And if it's the wrong decision, well Damn The Man, baby. Wasn't my idea to do it that way. But now I am The Man. I am the one to whom people consult to make decisions on how to care for this perfect little baby. I am the one that has the potential to make or break the foundation on which this life will be built. How freakin' terrifying is that?!
And a newborn isn't exactly a sparkling conversationalist, so I longed for another adult to sit and chat with. Travis would come home for lunch and then at the end of the day, and I would talk from the moment his shoes hit the back hall Pergo until he closed the bathroom door for some privacy. And then I'd start up again when the door opened, before the toilet even finished flushing because I'd been hovering outside, waiting very impatiently for him to listen to my reports about how many naps were taken, how much formula was consumed and how many diapers were changed. I'd ramble on and on, all the while Travis just looking for five minutes of solace and quiet at the end of a long day at the office. The man deserves an award, I'm telling you, cause I'da punched me in the beak.
So I thought the adjustment of coming back to work would be a relatively easy one. I'd have the best of both worlds. I'd get to hang out with my friends at work (and maybe do a little work here and there) and then come home to spend quality time with Walker. Oh, how misguided was I?! My first day back, it was reported to me, Walker cried most of the day. And the separation anxiety was torture on me, as well. Since then Walker's done really well. He loves spending the days with Uncle Chris and the girls and even seems to enjoy Sofi, the Chihuahua's, company.
For me, however, it's gotten progressively worse. I thought that the first day would be the worst, but then it would get easier. Not true, my friend. The second day I cried the whole way home, and I could see the thought running through Travis' mind: "increase your Zoloft, increase your Zoloft." When I originally thought of the eight hours I put in at work, I neglected to take into consideration my lunch hour and then an hour travel time each way. I'm away from my baby almost twelve hours every day! And when we finally do pull into the garage and I throw myself out of the barely stopped car and run across the driveway to my sister's house to fetch him, I have to share our time together with Travis. Now, I know he misses the baby as much as I do. But I've gone from 24/7 to 4 hours if I'm lucky. I want to bogart.
Anymore a woman is crucified for wanting to stay home with her kids. She's looked at as only a mother. Yeah. Cause raising the next generation of humans is cake compared to building a career that ends with a cheap gold watch. Raising my children is all I want. I felt lonely at home with only the baby to keep me company, but I feel more alone here at work, surrounded by people, without my son. He was with me every minute of every day for 11 months. To suddenly be separated from him is almost unbearable. I want to have tummy time and spit up on my shirt. I want to fold laundry and change dirty bums. I want to clean the house and make dinner for my husband. I want to teach my son to clap and hold things in his hands.
Call me provincial or old fashioned. I don't care. It's far more important to me to be with my son than anything else in the world. We do have a plan to make that happen. I keep telling myself that this arrangement is only temporary. That, even if it's a year, we'll pay things off and I'll be able to stay home. Until then I'll just plaster the walls of my office with pictures of Walker and wait, though impatiently, for the day to arrive when I can quit and be a full time mommy again.
And a newborn isn't exactly a sparkling conversationalist, so I longed for another adult to sit and chat with. Travis would come home for lunch and then at the end of the day, and I would talk from the moment his shoes hit the back hall Pergo until he closed the bathroom door for some privacy. And then I'd start up again when the door opened, before the toilet even finished flushing because I'd been hovering outside, waiting very impatiently for him to listen to my reports about how many naps were taken, how much formula was consumed and how many diapers were changed. I'd ramble on and on, all the while Travis just looking for five minutes of solace and quiet at the end of a long day at the office. The man deserves an award, I'm telling you, cause I'da punched me in the beak.
So I thought the adjustment of coming back to work would be a relatively easy one. I'd have the best of both worlds. I'd get to hang out with my friends at work (and maybe do a little work here and there) and then come home to spend quality time with Walker. Oh, how misguided was I?! My first day back, it was reported to me, Walker cried most of the day. And the separation anxiety was torture on me, as well. Since then Walker's done really well. He loves spending the days with Uncle Chris and the girls and even seems to enjoy Sofi, the Chihuahua's, company.
For me, however, it's gotten progressively worse. I thought that the first day would be the worst, but then it would get easier. Not true, my friend. The second day I cried the whole way home, and I could see the thought running through Travis' mind: "increase your Zoloft, increase your Zoloft." When I originally thought of the eight hours I put in at work, I neglected to take into consideration my lunch hour and then an hour travel time each way. I'm away from my baby almost twelve hours every day! And when we finally do pull into the garage and I throw myself out of the barely stopped car and run across the driveway to my sister's house to fetch him, I have to share our time together with Travis. Now, I know he misses the baby as much as I do. But I've gone from 24/7 to 4 hours if I'm lucky. I want to bogart.
Anymore a woman is crucified for wanting to stay home with her kids. She's looked at as only a mother. Yeah. Cause raising the next generation of humans is cake compared to building a career that ends with a cheap gold watch. Raising my children is all I want. I felt lonely at home with only the baby to keep me company, but I feel more alone here at work, surrounded by people, without my son. He was with me every minute of every day for 11 months. To suddenly be separated from him is almost unbearable. I want to have tummy time and spit up on my shirt. I want to fold laundry and change dirty bums. I want to clean the house and make dinner for my husband. I want to teach my son to clap and hold things in his hands.
Call me provincial or old fashioned. I don't care. It's far more important to me to be with my son than anything else in the world. We do have a plan to make that happen. I keep telling myself that this arrangement is only temporary. That, even if it's a year, we'll pay things off and I'll be able to stay home. Until then I'll just plaster the walls of my office with pictures of Walker and wait, though impatiently, for the day to arrive when I can quit and be a full time mommy again.
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
Triumphant Return to Blogging
So I haven't blogged in ages. I have no excuse, except that I got busy having a baby and, really, who reads this thing anyway? Being on maternity leave for the last three months I became very remiss in my blog reading obsession. Now that I'm back at work, though, I've used my down time to catch up on my usual sites, and even added a new one that, so far, has proved interesting.
I love reading blogs. I, like Crazy Aunt Purl, am a blog stalker. Something about being invited to snoop into other people's lives appeals to me. Makes my natural born "curiosity" feel a little less wrong, a little less dirty. I read blogs of my friends to catch up on what's happening in their lives and to stay in contact with them. And then I have my AnonoBlogs. You know, the blogs written by people I've never met, never will meet, but I love to read them anyway. My favorite is Dooce.com. I may not always agree with the things she says, but she's entertaining and insightful and always there. That's the best part. The "always there" part. There's something comforting in knowing that my day at work can be broken up by five minutes of blog-reading here and there.
Lately, though, I've found myself being very jealous of the throng of Mommy Bloggers out there who have made their blogs their jobs. Not that I find anything wrong with that at all. Quite the opposite, really. I love that there are people out there who make money from sharing their thoughts and ideas online. Seems no different to me than reading an article in a newspaper.
With the recent necessity of having to return to work after having my adorable baby, I've got a burning desire to become one of them. How exactly do these people break into the career field as a professional blogger? I mean, is there a BS of Blogging out there I need to obtain? Does one need to sleep with the Blogging Boss to get ahead in the Blogosphere? 'Cause at this point, I'm ready to take one for the team on this one.
Alas, I think the world of professional blogging will be forever closed to me. I will continue to blog, though. My words may not find a home. They may float out into the abyss and fade away, but I will have found an outlet. And really, that's what it's all about, this Hokey Pokey of life called blogging.
I love reading blogs. I, like Crazy Aunt Purl, am a blog stalker. Something about being invited to snoop into other people's lives appeals to me. Makes my natural born "curiosity" feel a little less wrong, a little less dirty. I read blogs of my friends to catch up on what's happening in their lives and to stay in contact with them. And then I have my AnonoBlogs. You know, the blogs written by people I've never met, never will meet, but I love to read them anyway. My favorite is Dooce.com. I may not always agree with the things she says, but she's entertaining and insightful and always there. That's the best part. The "always there" part. There's something comforting in knowing that my day at work can be broken up by five minutes of blog-reading here and there.
Lately, though, I've found myself being very jealous of the throng of Mommy Bloggers out there who have made their blogs their jobs. Not that I find anything wrong with that at all. Quite the opposite, really. I love that there are people out there who make money from sharing their thoughts and ideas online. Seems no different to me than reading an article in a newspaper.
With the recent necessity of having to return to work after having my adorable baby, I've got a burning desire to become one of them. How exactly do these people break into the career field as a professional blogger? I mean, is there a BS of Blogging out there I need to obtain? Does one need to sleep with the Blogging Boss to get ahead in the Blogosphere? 'Cause at this point, I'm ready to take one for the team on this one.
Alas, I think the world of professional blogging will be forever closed to me. I will continue to blog, though. My words may not find a home. They may float out into the abyss and fade away, but I will have found an outlet. And really, that's what it's all about, this Hokey Pokey of life called blogging.
Wednesday, November 07, 2007
Coming to a Sad Realization
Last night I listened to the baby's heart beat with our rented doppler monitor (worth every penny) and counting the beats, making sure the baby was okay. Why, you ask? Since I began feeling him move a few weeks ago, I've been religiously paying attention to when he wiggles and when he doesn't. Usually, if I'm laying down trying to relax, he's up and ready to play. Which is fine with me, since I love feeling him move and he's still small enough that the kicks are cute rather than painful or obnoxious. For the past few nights, though, when I'm laying in bed waiting to drift off, he seems to be peacefully sleeping, because he's no longer kicking me furiously.
So I was just sure there was a problem. Hence the counting of the heartbeat and listening for anything abnormal. 'Cause if I actually HEARD anything abnormal, I'd be able to identify it right away. You know, because of all those pregnancy books I have.
This morning, as I was leaving for work, Trav put his arms around me and started talking to my belly to say good morning to the baby (an adorable little ritual that began a week or two ago after Travis felt the first definite movement). This time, though, rather than just the "Good morning, baby! Be good! Daddy loves you!" that usually accompanies this bonding between father and son, there was this little gem: "And make sure you kick Mommy a lot, 'cause she worries. Now you and I both know that there's nothing to worry about, but she can't help it. So really kick today, okay?"
And that's when it hit me: in 16 short weeks, I am going to be outnumbered in this house and they're already plotting against me.
So I was just sure there was a problem. Hence the counting of the heartbeat and listening for anything abnormal. 'Cause if I actually HEARD anything abnormal, I'd be able to identify it right away. You know, because of all those pregnancy books I have.
This morning, as I was leaving for work, Trav put his arms around me and started talking to my belly to say good morning to the baby (an adorable little ritual that began a week or two ago after Travis felt the first definite movement). This time, though, rather than just the "Good morning, baby! Be good! Daddy loves you!" that usually accompanies this bonding between father and son, there was this little gem: "And make sure you kick Mommy a lot, 'cause she worries. Now you and I both know that there's nothing to worry about, but she can't help it. So really kick today, okay?"
And that's when it hit me: in 16 short weeks, I am going to be outnumbered in this house and they're already plotting against me.
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