My little seal

The munchkin has croup. The cough started on Monday, but she had no fever and didn’t have to go to daycare that day. She had a few coughing fits over the next couple of nights and when she would wake up from a nap, but I honestly didn’t think it was anything serious because she’s had allergy problems over the last week and a half, and I thought that this was a result of post-nasal drip. She was at daycare yesterday, and sure enough she had a low-grade fever. The hubs took her to the dr, and they prescribed ten days of Amoxicillin and three days of Prednisolone. I HATE that she’s on a steroid. It makes me terribly nervous, but after the first dose last night, the coughing fits were less seal bark-like. She still had two fits last night, but it honestly just sounded like a normal cold-like cough.

But giving her that first dose was like a night with Linda Blair part deux. That medicine tasted so bad – the pharmacist warned me about it, and I even tasted it myself. It was horribly bitter and lingered in your mouth. I gave her about ¼ teaspoon (the dosage is ¾ tsp) and tried to follow it with juice, but she immediately started coughing from the awful taste. It wasn’t ten seconds later that we had projectile vomit. She had just eaten (food is required with this medicine), so she was still in her booster seat. I took the tray to the sink, but unfortunately, she was not done. She puked two more times. It was everywhere…her shirt, pants, hands, and feet, the booster seat, chair, floor, and rug. Needless to say, she had a bath in the deep sink in the garage. The next attempt was while she was having a bottle, and we were much more successful.

She really is in good spirits and acts like nothing is wrong. She’s talking, playing, and laughing as usual, which makes me feel better about the whole situation.

My poor munchkin. Daycare is the devil.

Prepare for lots of tears

Need a cry fest? Click here. Unbelievably heartbreaking.

I was going to post about our theme for last week's trip to see the hubs ("I wish you had feelings, you bastard GPS"), but I'm just too emotional after reading about Maddie, that sweet baby girl in the link above. I wasn't going to read/watch because I just can't handle that stuff, but something drew me to it.

It really makes you appreciate what you have, which is why I'm letting my munchkin consume way too many M&Ms at this very moment.

My night with Linda Blair

So last night, the munchkin and I were in bed, and she was having her nighttime bottle (yes, we do that…for now). She was slurping it down pretty fast. She pushed the bottle away from her mouth when she was done (like normal) but then she sat up pretty quickly. She laid her head on my stomach, sat up again, and then puked all over my chest and stomach. Before I could get the lamp on, she laid her head back down on my chest…in the barf.

The part I was most bothered by was seeing the right side of her face covered in puke. Before I sat up, I pulled her shirt off and wiped her face with it (as she started squealing in delight). I ripped the barf-stained comforter off, followed by my shirt (this took careful planning as I had to avoid any pouring off onto the carpet). In the bathroom, I wiped myself off really well, tipped my head forward, and still smelled sour milk. I had to give both of us a sponge bath in the sink (a second shower was just not an option…we took a shower together only thirty minutes before this). Amazingly, none got in my hair. I rinsed our shirts off in the shower and then had to clean out the green beans left in the drain.

I had just put new sheets on the bed not ten minutes before this nightmare, so I had to re-make it. We had to go back downstairs so that I could deposit the barf-stained linens at the washing machine area and to get the munchkin a new shirt. I ended up heating about 5 oz. of milk for her, but I was extremely hesitant about it. I tried to put her back down without the milk, but she was having too much fun bouncing around the bed (especially since Daddy wasn’t there to take up half the bed). I only let her have an ounce of milk, but that was enough to put her out. She slept fine after that and woke up as perky as ever.

Wouldn’t it be great if we could all have a barfing episode only to come out of it happy and feeling like a million bucks? I think I’d weigh a hell of a lot less.

Leavin' on a jet plane

I couldn’t dread a tropical vacation more than I do the trip to St. Thomas in June. To make matters worse, the hubs says to me…

“I need you to take a half day to go to Cape May with me before we go to St. Thomas.”

“Why?”

“So we can go to legal…”

End conversation.

Cue crying.

It absolutely terrifies me to think about leaving my munchkin. I honestly want to cancel our trip. Actually, I’m seriously considering flying my mom out to meet us there so that she can watch the munchkin while we enjoy ourselves. I don’t think she’d mind babysitting in paradise for free.

He then adds, "We have to do it because we're both going to be on a plane, and she won't be with us." Cue hysteria.

Tell me (if anyone still reads this blog), when did you first leave your child? Was it the hardest thing ever? How old was your child?

When I think about our vacation, my hands begin to sweat, my heart rate skyrockets, and I get highly emotional. My therapist says this isn’t good.

Cue the medication.

*SIGH*

I feel like life is lived by waiting on the next event. This past year and a half (almost) has been the happiest of my life, but it’s as though we’re always waiting on the next trip, vacation, family visit, etc. I just wish we could ignore the impending and thoroughly enjoy the now. My baby is growing up fast before my eyes…she’s already saying “thank you” and “uh-oh,” knows what a “kissy” is, knows what to do to put her jacket on. She runs and screams with delight. She loves the outdoors and cries when we have to come inside. She already knows and understands so much. I just want to be able to observe her more, to make thousands of mental notes about every move she makes just so I will never forget. I want to remember every smile, every tear, every laugh, every hug, every kiss, every everything.

Life, in essence, is just too damn fast.

Florida and "The Sickness"

Hello hello.


Florida was fun. The drive down wasn't bad at all. We left that Friday night around 9:00pm and got to Savannah sometime that next morning. We dropped the dogs off at the hubs' uncle's house and went to see his grandmother at the assisted living facility. While we were there, the hubs' aunt called and said the mongrels got out. We flew back to their neighborhood (only about 2 blocks away), and the first mutt we spied was Panda way off in the distance traipsing through someone's yard. A glance down a second street found Trace. We pulled up to his uncle's house still missing three dogs, one of which, Spot, ran off last year. We hopped out of the truck and looked down the street and suddenly saw the three of them walking down the street in pack. The hubs ran down, but they had already turned off into someone's yard. He got down there, and a guy was playing with them waiting on the hubs. Effing dogs, I swear. If there is one piece of advice that I can give you, it's don't have five dogs.


But I love the bastards.


After Savannah, we headed to Florida and arrived just before 6:00 that Saturday evening. We were so effing exhausted that we went to bed at 8:00. The munchkin, at that point, had a cough and the sniffles. It only escalated through the week. Tuesday night she had a low-grade fever and woke up every 15-20 minutes, and by 4:00am she threw up all over me, herself, and the bed. That morning I called the dr, and they gave me the same shit about using a vaporizer. HELLO, MOTHER FUCKERS. I have been using this shit every single day for two full weeks, and she's not improving. "Well, you can't bring her in. You're in Florida." They have hospitals and doctors in Florida, you twit. They finally decided to call in an antibiotic for her. I don't like medicating her, but damn, she was getting worse. Three days of low-grade fever and five days of meds later and she was still feeling like crap. We didn't do anything while in Florida until Friday. The munchkin was feeling better (the hubs was feeling quite sick at this point), so we went to the Palm Beach Zoo. It was the munchkin's first time, and she seemed to really enjoy herself aside from not feeling 100%. We left on Saturday at around 4:00 and got home Sunday at 9:30am. All in all, we did have a good time. It was very relaxing, and I got to lay out by the pool every single day. It made me miss the south and the heat even more.


The munchkin is FINALLY getting better, I guess. We took her to the dr two Mondays ago, and he said her chest sounded great (I was super worried about bronchitis or pneumonia). Thursday, however, we took a few steps back. She had a low fever all day, and around 7:00, it was up to 103.8. I had just given her Tylenol, so we waited about 20 minutes to see if it started to go down before we went to the ER. The fever definitely started going down, so we went to bed. At 2am, it was back up to 102, so I laid awake feeling her constantly. At 3am, I gave her more Tylenol and fell asleep. When I woke at 6am, she was covered in sweat and was a cool 97.7. Thank God. The hubs stayed home with her that day, and her fever never returned. The nasty runny nose is officially back, though, and she still has a cough.

IS THIS NEVER-ENDING, SWEET JESUS?!?

Quick update

Tonight we begin our 17-hour trek to Florida. The forecast...mid-70s to 80s all next week. Thank the sweet Lord. I'll be thinking about all of you while I'm sitting in the hot tub with a drink in hand watching the munchkin frolic in the water. Man, am I ready for this vacay!

The munchkin is fighting the cold still. What is it with kids and colds that they produce more snot than an adult does in an entire year? Thankfully she's used to the nasal aspirator now. She'll even tilt her head back when she sees it coming.

Daycare is getting better. Yesterday she didn't even cry when I left, and they told the hubs that she did VERY well. The only issue is that she just will not nap for very long. The first couple of days she napped for like an hour and 45 minutes. Yesterday it was only 35 minutes. Does anyone recommend anything? The only time she really takes a good nap is when she's curled up with the hubs or me.

And did you hear about boyfriend? I'm gonna have to spank him. :)

I hope to have a post mid-vacay next week, but if I don't, y'all have a good one!

Paid my dues and joined the club

Monday afternoon the munchkin and I went to the pharmacy. After shopping, I opened the driver side rear door, tossed my keys into the front seat, and strapped in the kiddo. I shut the door and went to open mine, but it wouldn't open. I tried to re-open the back door to no avail. That's right...I locked my 13-month-old in the car with the keys in my seat.

I reached into my purse for my cell when I realized that it, too, was in the car in the cup holder. I frantically glanced around for a pay phone, and there was one close but not close enough for me to walk away from my trapped child. A lady walked by at that point, and she let me use her phone. I couldn't, however, get the hubs to answer his phone (I later found out he was in Home Depot). The lady suggested I call 911, so I did. I didn't cry until the operator answered the phone. The munchkin soon followed.

As soon as I got off the phone with the operator, I called the hubs again, and he answered. He told me he was by the mall, which isn't far but was TOO far at that very moment. I told the lady she didn't have to stay, but she reminded me that 911 had her phone number, and she also told me she has two grandkids and would want someone to help them. Very sweet. I couldn't thank her enough for staying.

The 911 operator called back to check on us (munchkin was pretty upset by now), and I told her the hubs was on the way and that she could cancel the dispatch. She did but told me to call right back if anything changed. The hubs called back after that to tell me, "DO NOT let the police bust your car window." Ok, whatever. I told sweet lady to go ahead and leave, so she did. About 15 seconds later, a canine unit pulls up (I can only assume he was closest and came even though the call was canceled). Another two minutes later, a second trooper pulls up. Both guys were so sweet and talked to the munchkin through the glass (who was still VERY upset). When they asked me if I was ok, all I could say was, "This kind of shit happens on TV." They reassured me that it happens in reality all the time.

Ten minutes later I hear my doors unlock, glance into the street to see the hubs about to pull into the parking lot, and pulled the munchkin out. She had calmed down some at this point and was doing that sniffle-and-gasp-for-air-borderline-hyperventilating thing.

All-in-all the whole ordeal lasted about 25 minutes, but I swear to sweet Jesus that it felt like an eternity. I can only thank God that it was like 57 degrees outside - pretty much perfect weather for being locked in a car, I say.

Our First Week of Daycare

I've been blog retarded for a few days but only because I've been balls-to-the-wall busy at work. Pure insanity.


So the munchkin started daycare on Monday. Hardest.day.ever. I was very proud of her though - she didn't shed one tear when I left. I, however, was bawling. I called to check on her later, and they said she refused breakfast twice but ate all her lunch. She took an hour and forty-five minute nap, too. When I called, she was watching Backyardigans (we took two burned dvds up there) and having a good time. When I came to get her, she smiled so big and came waddling to me.

Wednesday wasn't as good. She cried when I started to leave, so I started to get her ready for breakfast. When I was about to put her eggs in the microwave, the teacher said, "We'll do it." I just looked at her, and she said, "Let me tell you something about new moms. The longer you stay, the worse it gets. You should come in, put her stuff away, hug and kiss her goodbye, and leave. It will get better." The whole time she's telling me this my eyes are welling up with tears. I kissed her goodbye and bawled on my way to the car. I called later, and they said she was napping but was doing fine.

Today was better. She still cried when I left, so I waited at another door to the room she was in and watched through the window. She was upset but wasn't hysterical. I felt so bad. I just wanted to scoop her up and hold her until she stopped. When the hubs went to pick her up, they said she did very well today. She went right down for a nap and ate both breakfast and lunch.

My little munchkin is growing up...and without my permission.

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!

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. ;)