Last Friday I earned two new Mom Scout badges: Bare-Handed Puke Catcher and Bathtub Poop Scooper. I guess I was pretty lucky to go over a year without earning those particular badges. It all started on Friday morning around 5:30 a.m., Chloe's preferred wake up time. We went downstairs to get a cup of milk like usual when all of a sudden she started to puke. Instinctively, I stuck my hands out to catch it. It was mostly mucous so I didn't think much of it, but about an hour later I sat her in her highchair for breakfast, and she started to gag again. This time I caught twice the amount of puke.
Unfortunately, some if it ended up down her shirt, so we went straight to the tub. I washed her all up and she was just playing like a good girl when my Mom said she would watch her while I went downstairs. Well about 30 seconds later I hear "Aaah YOU ARE POOPING!" I ran upstairs and sure enough there was something floating in the tub that certainly didn't belong there. I scooped out the poop and flushed it down the toilet. Okay I know this is a little graphic, but my point is that prior to 7:00 a.m. I had already caught puke in my hands TWICE and scooped poo out of the tub.
Chloe still wasn't feeling well in the afternoon. My Mom called and said Chloe was very off balance and was crying a lot. Her fever was about 102 degrees even with Tylenol. I made her an appointment to see the doctor. Mind you, I was complaining the whole time, because it seems like every single week that my Mom is here we are going to the doctor. I am the type to never go to the doctor. In fact, I didn't even open Chloe's thermometer until she was about four months old. It seems like every Monday Chloe goes to daycare feeling fine, but by Wednesday she has a runny nose, and by Friday she has a cold that has got my Mom thinking a visit to the doctor is in order. This winter the doctor has told us about five times and about $400 later that Chloe has a cold. (I'm sorry, Mom, I'm not blaming you per se, but you are batting, like, two-hundred.)
This time was different, though, because this time Chloe had a double ear infection. Poor baby had to get an antibiotic. She is now about half way through the medicine, and is starting to feel better. At least she doesn't have a fever anymore. But she is turning into a bubblegum flavored amoxicillin junky. The doctor said that most kids have had four ear infections by the age of one. Good job, Chloe!
Anyway, I figured I get to add my new badges to my recent collection, which include:
Board Book Memorizer - for the ability to read Chloe's favorite books without looking at the words while doing a variety of daily activities.
Poop Inspector - for the instinct to do a quick once over on a poopy diaper to ensure there are no rouge pennies.
Booger Picker/Snotty Nose Wiper - for the successful removal of the stickiest of boogers and runniest of noses using a tissue, shirt sleeve, finger, and/or shoulder.
Early Riser - for waking up every single morning at 5:30 a.m. for over a year.
Sure, they aren't exactly glamorous, but I am quite proud of them! Oh, and Paul gets an honorary badge. I'm going to call it something simple and self-explanatory like... I-didn't-quite-get-all-of-the-poop-out-of-the-drain, so-when-Paul-took-his-shower-after-work-and-tried-to-figure-out-why-the-tub-wasn't-draining, he-stuck-his-finger-in-the-drain, wriggled-it-around-a-bit, removed-his-finger, and-proceeded-to-sniff-said-finger, and-in-doing-so-he-confirmed-that-there-was-indeed-poop, human-poop-in-the-tub. I think that has a nice ring to it, don't you?
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
A Few Pics
I realized that I haven't posted any recent pictures of Chloe in a while. It is mostly because I have a hard time capturing her doing the things I want to capture her doing. Because the minute she sees me get out the camera she goes stone cold. Also, I want to take the picture with my Canon, my iPhone, and my video camera so as to not miss out on anything, but then as I set out to gather all of my devices, I get a little distracted.
Where did I leave my camera? Oh, I think it is in my purse. Oh my gosh, I almost forgot to mail this bill I found in my purse! I need to get a stamp for it. I think I have one upstairs. I've been meaning to change my sheets. I'll just grab those on my way back down. Shoot I forgot to put the towels in the dryer. Now they reek. I need to wash them again this time with bleach. I think I bought a new container of bleach. It must be in the storage closet. What is that smell?! Where is that coming from? It smells like a foot. Oh my gosh these potatoes are rotten. I need to throw them in the back room. Griffin come inside. WAIT! Your paws are dirty. I need to get a towel. Oh, don't look at me like that. Let me take your picture. Where did I leave my camera? Oh, I think it is in my purse.
You get the point. But here are a few pictures. My favorite is this one. It was captured at the Bradley Baby first birthday party, which is best documented on Sally's blog here.
Where did I leave my camera? Oh, I think it is in my purse. Oh my gosh, I almost forgot to mail this bill I found in my purse! I need to get a stamp for it. I think I have one upstairs. I've been meaning to change my sheets. I'll just grab those on my way back down. Shoot I forgot to put the towels in the dryer. Now they reek. I need to wash them again this time with bleach. I think I bought a new container of bleach. It must be in the storage closet. What is that smell?! Where is that coming from? It smells like a foot. Oh my gosh these potatoes are rotten. I need to throw them in the back room. Griffin come inside. WAIT! Your paws are dirty. I need to get a towel. Oh, don't look at me like that. Let me take your picture. Where did I leave my camera? Oh, I think it is in my purse.
You get the point. But here are a few pictures. My favorite is this one. It was captured at the Bradley Baby first birthday party, which is best documented on Sally's blog here.
Eating oranges with Grammy.
Reading with Daddy.
Eating cereal and playing with the milk.
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
Grammar Soldier
I have all of these hopes and dreams for Chloe. I'm sure that most of them are shared by all parents. One thing I especially hope for Chloe is that she doesn't turn into one of those broken English speaking and writing teenagers. I think I die a little inside whenever I see some of my teenage cousins' Facebook posts. This is a real life example of a recent Facebook update:
"I miss youuu! Sounds like you're havin lotsA fun with all the drunk txts i've getting :D Enjoy it sista it's snowin here! Bring back some sunshine pleaseeee LOV E YOUUU♥"
I just threw up a little in my mouth. Are you serious? I'm sorry, but I just don't get it. The silver lining? She did use her apostrophes correctly. I'm so sad for the English language. I know that I may go a little overboard with grammar and such, considering that the first thing I would do if I were at all involved in politics is syphon a little something off the top of that chintzy Michigan guardrail fund, and replace all of the "drive safe" signs with "drive safely" signs. Because, dear government, an adverb that is modifying an action verb should end in "ly." And, for the record, in nearly all cases, the end mark goes on the inside of your quotation marks. But I digress. So maybe we don't all have to be grammar crazy, because it really does lower your quality of life whenever you hear someone say "I'm so nauseous," and all you want to do is grab them by the shoulders and shake them while screaming "NO! You are so nauseated." I really don't want us to all be that person, but, in all honestly, I kind of want Chloe to be that person - a grammar soldier. Yes, that is what she'll be.
"I miss youuu! Sounds like you're havin lotsA fun with all the drunk txts i've getting :D Enjoy it sista it's snowin here! Bring back some sunshine pleaseeee LOV E YOUUU♥"
I just threw up a little in my mouth. Are you serious? I'm sorry, but I just don't get it. The silver lining? She did use her apostrophes correctly. I'm so sad for the English language. I know that I may go a little overboard with grammar and such, considering that the first thing I would do if I were at all involved in politics is syphon a little something off the top of that chintzy Michigan guardrail fund, and replace all of the "drive safe" signs with "drive safely" signs. Because, dear government, an adverb that is modifying an action verb should end in "ly." And, for the record, in nearly all cases, the end mark goes on the inside of your quotation marks. But I digress. So maybe we don't all have to be grammar crazy, because it really does lower your quality of life whenever you hear someone say "I'm so nauseous," and all you want to do is grab them by the shoulders and shake them while screaming "NO! You are so nauseated." I really don't want us to all be that person, but, in all honestly, I kind of want Chloe to be that person - a grammar soldier. Yes, that is what she'll be.
Monday, March 14, 2011
And She's Off!
It's official. Chloe is off and walking running. I say running now, because I am so late in documenting her actual first steps. Chloe began taking a few steps a few days shy of her first birthday, but it took her another three or four weeks to completely transition from crawling to walking. The exact date that she stopped crawling altogether was February 20th, which made hear nearly 13 months old. Over the last few days Chloe has been running around the house.
Once she figured out how to walk the climbing became out of control. Chloe's sole purpose in life right now is to either find the highest point in the house and shimmy to the top or to bite Griffin's ears off. It is a close race. But seriously if I leave the room for even ten seconds there is a 90% chance that Chloe will be standing on the end table with both hands balancing out in front of her just like she is surfing. She'll look right up at me with a little shit grin. Chloe understands that if you are going to go end table surfing it is imperative that you are up and standing within the time it takes for Momma to throw away a dirty diaper. In light of this, she often partners up with a footstool like her Pottery Barn chair, Laugh and Learn table, or, my personal favorite, Griffin's torso.
Honestly though, it is so amazing to see such a little person running around our dining room table. It is funny to watch her try new things while she walks like chug her milk, carry a toy, or try to walk over an uneven surface. The best is watching her storm around the house naked. Sometimes we let Chloe's bottom take a breather before we get her PJ's on at night. She always thinks she won the PJ war when we let her loose. She'll run around naked as a jay bird rubbing her belly and legs with her hands. Then she'll run over to Griffin and climb over him because his fur feels so soft on her skin. Griffin gets a really uncomfortable look on his face, because if you didn't know it is really gross to have your sister roll on you whilst naked. Are you sensing a general theme here between Chloe and Griffin? We have a VERY good dog!
Anyway, it is entertaining as ever to watch Chloe get around the house on her own two feet. She just seems way too small to be vertical. I wonder if I will always see her as being smaller than what she is. Every now and then the fact that she is turning into a big girl really dawns on me, and I'm always taken aback. For example, I always play "fruit" with her, which just means that I pretend to eat the plastic fruit out of her grocery cart and attempt to teach her the names of the fruit. So far she knows banana and apple for sure and is getting better at the rest as the days go by. Well I always make a crunching sound when I "eat" the fruit. She usually will just feed me the fruit and put it back, but yesterday she pretended to eat it herself. She opened and closed her little mouth and made a munching sound. It was adorable.
Okay, okay, I know that you are reading this and are thinking *yawn* your kid pretended to eat fruit, big deal. But whatever, it was cool! If you don't have kids, just do me a favor and store this post in a little file in the back of your brain, because I am willing to bet a large sum of money that you are going to be excited about the same crap when you are in my shoes. Besides, I'd rather listen to a dozen stories about poop consistency, food allergies, and pretend fruit eating than one of your stories about a dream you had last night. At least my story actually happened!
Once she figured out how to walk the climbing became out of control. Chloe's sole purpose in life right now is to either find the highest point in the house and shimmy to the top or to bite Griffin's ears off. It is a close race. But seriously if I leave the room for even ten seconds there is a 90% chance that Chloe will be standing on the end table with both hands balancing out in front of her just like she is surfing. She'll look right up at me with a little shit grin. Chloe understands that if you are going to go end table surfing it is imperative that you are up and standing within the time it takes for Momma to throw away a dirty diaper. In light of this, she often partners up with a footstool like her Pottery Barn chair, Laugh and Learn table, or, my personal favorite, Griffin's torso.
Honestly though, it is so amazing to see such a little person running around our dining room table. It is funny to watch her try new things while she walks like chug her milk, carry a toy, or try to walk over an uneven surface. The best is watching her storm around the house naked. Sometimes we let Chloe's bottom take a breather before we get her PJ's on at night. She always thinks she won the PJ war when we let her loose. She'll run around naked as a jay bird rubbing her belly and legs with her hands. Then she'll run over to Griffin and climb over him because his fur feels so soft on her skin. Griffin gets a really uncomfortable look on his face, because if you didn't know it is really gross to have your sister roll on you whilst naked. Are you sensing a general theme here between Chloe and Griffin? We have a VERY good dog!
Anyway, it is entertaining as ever to watch Chloe get around the house on her own two feet. She just seems way too small to be vertical. I wonder if I will always see her as being smaller than what she is. Every now and then the fact that she is turning into a big girl really dawns on me, and I'm always taken aback. For example, I always play "fruit" with her, which just means that I pretend to eat the plastic fruit out of her grocery cart and attempt to teach her the names of the fruit. So far she knows banana and apple for sure and is getting better at the rest as the days go by. Well I always make a crunching sound when I "eat" the fruit. She usually will just feed me the fruit and put it back, but yesterday she pretended to eat it herself. She opened and closed her little mouth and made a munching sound. It was adorable.
Okay, okay, I know that you are reading this and are thinking *yawn* your kid pretended to eat fruit, big deal. But whatever, it was cool! If you don't have kids, just do me a favor and store this post in a little file in the back of your brain, because I am willing to bet a large sum of money that you are going to be excited about the same crap when you are in my shoes. Besides, I'd rather listen to a dozen stories about poop consistency, food allergies, and pretend fruit eating than one of your stories about a dream you had last night. At least my story actually happened!
Friday, March 11, 2011
Pure Beauty
I was just thinking of a conversation I had with a friend while vacationing in Washington D.C. We were talking about newborn babies when she said "I think all newborn babies are gross." As in, newborn babies are homely - not like they are so gross that can't even look at them. In fact, she wants one more than anything.
Instinctively, I got a little defensive since Chloe was once a newborn baby and "all" implied that my friend thought my newborn baby was once ugly. At the same time I totally understood where she was coming from, and I had a flashback to a similar conversation I had with my Mom and aunts just about 13.5 months ago when I was arguing the exact same point. There was a time when I felt exactly the same way she does. My aunts said "you say that now, but just wait until you hold your baby in your arms. You will think she is the most beautiful thing you have ever seen." Yeah, yeah.
I will never forget the moment when the doctor placed Chloe in my arms. She was all gooey and whitish/blue. Her hair was matted to her head and she was skinny scrawny. But despite all of that, she was hands down the most beautiful thing I had ever laid eyes on in my 26 years of life. I know it is so sappy and cliche, but I'm dead serious. I even look back at pictures of Chloe now from when she was a newborn and I still think she looks perfect. It is just further proof that the minute you hold your new baby you are reborn a Mother. You have a new set of eyes, and they are able to see raw beauty. Pure beauty. It is beauty amplified by the deepest love imaginable.
So I can definitely say that I no longer agree that all newborn babies are ugly. Some of them, maybe, but not mine. Oh yeah, I'm that mom. So I'm going to give my friend a hall pass, because I know she'll see the err of her ways in due time. But if anyone else tries to say that my newborn baby wasn't perfect in every way I'll probably go all primal on your ass.
Instinctively, I got a little defensive since Chloe was once a newborn baby and "all" implied that my friend thought my newborn baby was once ugly. At the same time I totally understood where she was coming from, and I had a flashback to a similar conversation I had with my Mom and aunts just about 13.5 months ago when I was arguing the exact same point. There was a time when I felt exactly the same way she does. My aunts said "you say that now, but just wait until you hold your baby in your arms. You will think she is the most beautiful thing you have ever seen." Yeah, yeah.
I will never forget the moment when the doctor placed Chloe in my arms. She was all gooey and whitish/blue. Her hair was matted to her head and she was skinny scrawny. But despite all of that, she was hands down the most beautiful thing I had ever laid eyes on in my 26 years of life. I know it is so sappy and cliche, but I'm dead serious. I even look back at pictures of Chloe now from when she was a newborn and I still think she looks perfect. It is just further proof that the minute you hold your new baby you are reborn a Mother. You have a new set of eyes, and they are able to see raw beauty. Pure beauty. It is beauty amplified by the deepest love imaginable.
So I can definitely say that I no longer agree that all newborn babies are ugly. Some of them, maybe, but not mine. Oh yeah, I'm that mom. So I'm going to give my friend a hall pass, because I know she'll see the err of her ways in due time. But if anyone else tries to say that my newborn baby wasn't perfect in every way I'll probably go all primal on your ass.
Monday, February 14, 2011
Wean and Weep
Wean and weep. That has been the natural progression of things since I began weaning Chloe. If you had told me a year ago that I would be devastated to reach the end of our breastfeeding journey I would have called you crazy. After all, being a breastfeeding and working mother also means you are a pumping mother. And I think I have expressed here that pumping is no fun - no fun at all.
I started mixing in two ounces of cow's milk into Chloe's cup twice a day beginning at eleven months just to get her started. After her first birthday I knocked out the two pumping sessions I have slaved over at work for the past year. It is nice to not have to worry about packing up the pump, disinfecting the parts, transporting the precious cargo, etc. But after I quit I realized the silver lining to pumping at work was closing my door and taking the time to appreciate that I was doing something good - no, make that great - for my baby. It was nice to take a forced break since I usually rarely even stop for a bathroom or lunch break. And it became surprisingly second nature. It was just another daily chore that I didn't especially love doing but did anyway like blow drying my hair or flossing my teeth.
It was strange, though, because immediately after I quit pumping at work I found myself to be just... kind of sad. The minute I got home from work I would feed Chloe, partly because I was about to explode and partly because I just couldn't wait to cuddle up with her. Since that was causing her to be too full to eat a proper dinner, I had to quit that feeding session, too. It seemed like with every feeding that I cut out I kept getting a little sadder. Like the amount of milk I produced was an exact measure of the amount of happiness I felt inside. Trust me, I know this sounds crazy to any person who hasn't been here before, but if you have been here before odds are that you are sobbing at your desk just reading this.
Two nights ago I cut out the night time feeding, and last night I secretly cried before I fell asleep. I fed Chloe this morning and stared at her the entire time. I love how she looks up at me and smiles. I love how she is forced to cuddle with me for that short time. I love that I can sooth her under any circumstance. I love how happy I feel to know that even if I don't know what the hell I'm doing most of the time, I know that I'm doing the perfect thing at that moment.
I decided to keep feeding her in the morning until I leave for Washington D.C. in two weeks. I know it will be so sad to call it quits for good. But I have said over and over that I don't want to be that lady at the playground with a toddler screaming "Nursy, nursy!!!" while tugging at my shirt. I know that I have to quit before she begins to demand it and doesn't understand why I am refusing her.
Also, I know that my hormones have a lot to blame for all of the sadness. Many women don't develop postnatal depression until they begin weaning their babies. How wonderful it is to receive those extra doses of natural oxytocin! We should all be so lucky! I know it will take some time for everything to settle, and in the meantime I will be replacing my old pumping sessions with a brisk walk at lunch to clear my head and help boost my energy. And hopefully someday down the road I will have another baby with whom I will share that incredible bond.
I started mixing in two ounces of cow's milk into Chloe's cup twice a day beginning at eleven months just to get her started. After her first birthday I knocked out the two pumping sessions I have slaved over at work for the past year. It is nice to not have to worry about packing up the pump, disinfecting the parts, transporting the precious cargo, etc. But after I quit I realized the silver lining to pumping at work was closing my door and taking the time to appreciate that I was doing something good - no, make that great - for my baby. It was nice to take a forced break since I usually rarely even stop for a bathroom or lunch break. And it became surprisingly second nature. It was just another daily chore that I didn't especially love doing but did anyway like blow drying my hair or flossing my teeth.
It was strange, though, because immediately after I quit pumping at work I found myself to be just... kind of sad. The minute I got home from work I would feed Chloe, partly because I was about to explode and partly because I just couldn't wait to cuddle up with her. Since that was causing her to be too full to eat a proper dinner, I had to quit that feeding session, too. It seemed like with every feeding that I cut out I kept getting a little sadder. Like the amount of milk I produced was an exact measure of the amount of happiness I felt inside. Trust me, I know this sounds crazy to any person who hasn't been here before, but if you have been here before odds are that you are sobbing at your desk just reading this.
Two nights ago I cut out the night time feeding, and last night I secretly cried before I fell asleep. I fed Chloe this morning and stared at her the entire time. I love how she looks up at me and smiles. I love how she is forced to cuddle with me for that short time. I love that I can sooth her under any circumstance. I love how happy I feel to know that even if I don't know what the hell I'm doing most of the time, I know that I'm doing the perfect thing at that moment.
I decided to keep feeding her in the morning until I leave for Washington D.C. in two weeks. I know it will be so sad to call it quits for good. But I have said over and over that I don't want to be that lady at the playground with a toddler screaming "Nursy, nursy!!!" while tugging at my shirt. I know that I have to quit before she begins to demand it and doesn't understand why I am refusing her.
Also, I know that my hormones have a lot to blame for all of the sadness. Many women don't develop postnatal depression until they begin weaning their babies. How wonderful it is to receive those extra doses of natural oxytocin! We should all be so lucky! I know it will take some time for everything to settle, and in the meantime I will be replacing my old pumping sessions with a brisk walk at lunch to clear my head and help boost my energy. And hopefully someday down the road I will have another baby with whom I will share that incredible bond.
An Answered Prayer
Thursday night we had a health scare when Chloe's body decided to conduct the perfect storm. She had a yeast infection in her belly button and *ahem* nether region, an allergic reaction to strawberries, cold symptoms, and most frighteningly, a huge and swollen belly. I called our pediatrician after hours. She was baffled by Chloe's swollen stomach and referred us to the after hours clinic known as G.R.A.P.E.S. When we put Chloe in her car seat she began to gag an gasp for air. It lasted for about 10-15 seconds, but it felt like a lifetime. We were terrified!
The short ride to the clinic felt like eternity. It is easy to let your mind go to the scariest places when you are a parent. I kept thinking how much cancer must be in Chloe's belly to make it so big. How long did we have? Would this be our last trip with her in the car? Seriously. I have never been so afraid.
When we got to the waiting room Chloe started tooting in Paul's lap. She kept tooting here and there for the hour long wait. When we finally got in to see the doctor, Chloe's belly had gone back to its normal size and was soft to the touch. The doctor looked at us like we were a little crazy, but we were like no, we swear it was huge an hour ago!! The doctor thinks she may be getting gassy from the cow's milk we have been giving her. She thought the gagging was from the mucous from her cold. She thought she was fussy because of the gas and her cold. She thought the shots she had may be giving her a small rash. I think it may be the strawberries. But either way, there was an explanation for all of her symptoms, and to say that we were relieved is the biggest understatement in the world.
Before we left for the clinic I fell to my knees in our bedroom and prayed desperately that it was God's will for Chloe to be a healthy little girl. I prayed that I wouldn't have to see my baby in a hospital bed until she is a grown woman holding a baby of her own. I prayed that we were just being crazy, nervous, new parents, and that the doctor would laugh with us and send us home rest assured. I've been so distant from God lately, caught up in our daily routine, leaving Him out of so many decisions... but there He was. A steady rock. I sought the Lord, and He answered me. He answered my prayer in the way I hoped He would. I know that prayers aren't always answered the way you think they should be answered, and I'm thankful that I am not left questioning God's plan at a time when I'm often forgetting to thank Him for His plan in the first place. It shouldn't take moments of fear to lead me back to the Lord. His praise should always be on my lips. And isn't that my job as a mother? To teach Chloe to be a faithful servant; to trust God with all of her hopes, dreams, fears, and worries; and to thank Him every day for the most generous gift of all - eternal life through Jesus Christ, our savior.
The short ride to the clinic felt like eternity. It is easy to let your mind go to the scariest places when you are a parent. I kept thinking how much cancer must be in Chloe's belly to make it so big. How long did we have? Would this be our last trip with her in the car? Seriously. I have never been so afraid.
When we got to the waiting room Chloe started tooting in Paul's lap. She kept tooting here and there for the hour long wait. When we finally got in to see the doctor, Chloe's belly had gone back to its normal size and was soft to the touch. The doctor looked at us like we were a little crazy, but we were like no, we swear it was huge an hour ago!! The doctor thinks she may be getting gassy from the cow's milk we have been giving her. She thought the gagging was from the mucous from her cold. She thought she was fussy because of the gas and her cold. She thought the shots she had may be giving her a small rash. I think it may be the strawberries. But either way, there was an explanation for all of her symptoms, and to say that we were relieved is the biggest understatement in the world.
Before we left for the clinic I fell to my knees in our bedroom and prayed desperately that it was God's will for Chloe to be a healthy little girl. I prayed that I wouldn't have to see my baby in a hospital bed until she is a grown woman holding a baby of her own. I prayed that we were just being crazy, nervous, new parents, and that the doctor would laugh with us and send us home rest assured. I've been so distant from God lately, caught up in our daily routine, leaving Him out of so many decisions... but there He was. A steady rock. I sought the Lord, and He answered me. He answered my prayer in the way I hoped He would. I know that prayers aren't always answered the way you think they should be answered, and I'm thankful that I am not left questioning God's plan at a time when I'm often forgetting to thank Him for His plan in the first place. It shouldn't take moments of fear to lead me back to the Lord. His praise should always be on my lips. And isn't that my job as a mother? To teach Chloe to be a faithful servant; to trust God with all of her hopes, dreams, fears, and worries; and to thank Him every day for the most generous gift of all - eternal life through Jesus Christ, our savior.
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