For your viewing pleasure

Yes, that is milk.

My loves.

Check out that tongue. Gotta taste everything!

My perfectly beautiful little ham.

The Great Debate

Last night's episode of Private Practice was heart-wrenching for me. I am that mother that is pro-vaccine but also scared shitless of what people have said about Autism.

There's no way I wouldn't vaccinate the ham - there is just way to much risk involved in not doing it. I'd have to quit my job because she wouldn't be allowed in daycare, she wouldn't be able to go to school, there would be SO MUCH RISK if we traveled outside the US (what last night's PP episode hit on), and when she decides to have babies, she would need to be vaccinated because of all the risks associated with catching those bugs while pregnant.

And even though I've read articles that say vaccines don't cause Autism, and her pediatrician is a firm believer in that, I'm still scared.

She gets her first MMR vaccination next month. It will be a horribly scary day for me.

The Human Pacifier

Imagine this...you are standing in front of four roofers holding your child and having a conversation. Before you know it, she has her hand inside your shirt and is practically groping you. And everyone can see.

This is like, my every day. The ham loves to play with my boobs. There is no easy way to put it. I know it's a comfort thing, so I'm not freakin' out about it, but DAMN.

It doesn't matter what kind of shirt I'm wearing - t-shirt, tanktop, hoodie, sweater, turtleneck - she will find a way to get her hand inside my shirt and past my bra in record time.

What makes it worse is that it's probably all my effing fault. Yes, she is still nursing but not during the day. I no longer pump, so she's on whole milk. The problem arises at night. Because she sleeps with us and nurses at night, she hasn't learned to self-soothe. She can fall asleep without nursing, but she prefers not to do it that way. I'm like a human frickin' pacifier.

Something has got to be done, but I don't even know where to begin. Put her in the crib at night? Hell to the no! Our bedroom is upstairs; hers is down. Ain't no way she's sleeping downstairs while we're up. Move the crib upstairs? Sure! Now convince the hubs because he's being a pain in the ass about that. I told him, "Well she's gonna be sleeping with us until we transfer again." "Ok."

**Let me just mention that we haven't had sex in our bed since before the ham was born. This living room has seen a lot of action. I sometimes wonder if the neighbors can see our silhouettes in the windows...teeheehee!

Anyway, the boob grabbin' has got to come to a close soon. As much as I enjoy her finding comfort in me, I can't take the men in the office breaking a sweat trying not to watch or saying things like, "Not now, huh?" or "What is she DOING?"

Lovin' on me, damnit!

New Toy

And did I mention that I got this?

=)

House of Flying Body Fluids

I got halfway to work when the hubs called to tell me that Mary threw up big time. She hadn't done it since Saturday night, but she was pretty cranky most of yesterday and didn't each much. She was fine when I left for work, but apparently she wasn't feeling good. Anway, hubs started feeling sick this morning, too, so that means I'm now working from home.

So I've decided that I'm sick of "hiding." I'm sick of having to correct names and such on this blog. It's a pain in my big ass, and I'm done, so from now on Mary is no longer Mary, and Dick is no longer Dick. I, therefore, am no longer Jane.

If someone comes across this blog because they decide to Google everyone in mother fucking creation, then so-be-it. I'll do what I can without driving myself mad to still somewhat disguise our names...J, K, and A. Or maybe I won't even do that. I will do my best not to use my own name since it's not common, and those that do have it don't spell it the way I do. Now I'm just thinking out loud.

As you can see, the ham has taken over my kitchen utensil junk drawer, so I've had to do a little rearranging. She's so worth the trouble. ;)

Blaaaahhhh

I knew something was up with Mary last night when she refused her juice. She didn't each much dinner and was pretty cranky. I took her to bed a little late (around 9:30), but she took a late nap that day, so it worked out.

She slept until around 12:45. I laid down in bed with her, and she calmed right down but didn't immediately go to sleep. She was quiet and didn't want to nurse at all (yes...still nursing...but only at night). We laid there for around 45 minutes when she sat up, turned to me, and barfed all over my arm, shoulder, and side. She continued to puke a few more times all over the sheets. She cried for a minute, but I think she may have just been startled.

We went downstairs and both got in the bathtub, and she was perfectly fine. She played and splashed just like she always does. When it was time to go to bed, it was like our regular routine.

I know random barfing episodes are the norm for kids, but never did I imagine that I wouldn't even flinch when covered in milk-and-veggie-laden puke.

I guess you never really know your own stomach strength.

Adjustment Disorder, Separation Anxiety, or both?

The moment I have dreaded for months now has come. On Sunday morning, the hubs called to inform me that the bastards denied his continuance on the night shift at work. When will he be moving to the day shift, you ask? January mother-fucking 19th. That's right - three weeks until Mary has to start daycare. I would have waited after our Florida trip in February, but my MIL decided not to come up here when the hubs goes to DC next week since his trip has been shortened to one week. Mary will be at work with me for a full week during one of the busiest months of the year - W2 time and year-end close. I couldn't really wait much longer.

The hubs and I went daycare shopping with Mary on Tuesday and, suprisingly, found a daycare that we both loved. I didn't make any appointments and prepared 25 questions that I asked each provider. I was torn between two and actually had to sit down and write out a list of the pros and cons of each. Hubs had one chosen, so the decision was up to me.

Choosing who will provide daily childcare for your most precious possession has to be one of the hardest decisions EVER. After an unbelievable critique, I decided on one. They only had one spot left, so I had to turn in the papers yesterday. I started bawling as soon as I got in my car to go home.

She'll be there three days a week to start, and the other two days she'll be with me unless the hubs has a day off.

I am absolutely dreading the first day. Now I'm not sure who has separation anxiety worse...Mary or me.