It's been another hectic week here. Goober started throwing up on Monday and he's been sick all week. I don't understand how he gets sick so much more often than the other kids. Even as babies and toddlers, T and Princess were rarely sick. It seems like Goober gets sick at least once a month. I feel so bad for him.
He finally seems to be on the upswing, though. He managed to eat crackers and some chicken nuggets today, and now he's asleep. I hope he doesn't wake up crying every hour or so tonight like he has been. I'm barely functioning with my sleep so interrupted, and it doesn't help that I have awful insomnia and I'm lucky to get 4 hours of sleep a day.
My cat Little Fart had an accident this week. The boyfriend told me that he saw him outside and he'd been in a fight but wouldn't let him near him. When I went to get him, he looked gnarly. His nose was bloody and torn up, he had bite marks on his face and near his ear, and he was a mess.
I took him to the vet and found out things were worse than I imagined. They took him to the back to clean him off and examine him because he had an accident and peed all over himself in the carrier. The vet came in and asked me if I lived in a high rise building. I was confused, since I live in a 3 story cape cod, and the cat was definitely outside when he got hurt.
It turns out that not only did he get attacked by an animal, but it appeared that he fell out of a tree or off something else high up. His nose was bleeding because he split his palate and broke some bones in his face. He also had brain swelling and damage from the fall. I had to leave him there to get steroids and pain medicine.
The good news is that his x-rays showed all his internal organs are intact. I got to bring him home with antibiotics and pain meds. They can't do anything about the palate or the broken bones in his face-they should eventually heal on their own. He got some stitches in his lip, and I probably have to take him to get a fractured tooth pulled at some point.
I'm just happy to have him home and doing alright. I was so scared when I found out he fell so hard. I never realized he would try and climb a tree to escape from an attacking animal. It kills me that I will never know what the heck happened. The vet also told me his back claws were shredded from trying to escape. He's happy to be home, laying on the couch, and attempting to eat with his cone collar on (so he doesn't pull out his stitches).
Yeah, it was a crazy week. I made corned beef hash with poached eggs and brownies with irish cream swirls for St. Paddy's day today. The kids loved helping me make the brownies. The best part is that they turned out gooey and under baked-I love half raw brownies, but I'll give the kids the more cooked edges.
In the morning we're going up to the house in the Catskills for the first time this season. I'm excited because I love it up there. It is my favorite place to be. There's a huge parade in my town tomorrow and I can't be far enough away from it.
I always hated the parade growing up because my town is mainly Irish Catholics who get crazy drunk all day. My parent's house was one block away from the parade route, and I hated that no matter what I did, I couldn't escape it. It was a little better as I got older, and I even went and watched it from my old job (across the street from my parent's house) a few times.
Then I moved. My landlord and his son throw a party every year on the parade day. This wouldn't bother me so much if the parents who were there gave a crap about what their kids were doing. Last year was a disaster. Kids were opening the gates to my backyard and running around all over it. I asked them nicely to leave, since my daughter was getting upset with strangers on her turf. A couple minutes later, they would be back in my yard.
The kids weren't too young to know better either. They were 8-14 years old. Their parents were too busy getting drunk to do anything. It got even worse when the kids started terrorizing my outdoor cats and attempting to come in my house. I stood in my backyard for the entire afternoon, chasing kids away and getting frustrated. I don't know what the kids or the parents were thinking. I would never let my kids run wild and aggravate people like that.
So this year, T, Princess, and I will be gone and I won't have to deal with the urge to smack someone's poorly behaved child (or a poorly behaved drunk adult). The boyfriend is staying home with Goober (I don't want him to throw up in the car-it's a 2 1/2 hour drive each way), and hopefully, he'll scare the kids from the yard. I'm sure his BB rifle can help with that.
Showing posts with label Princess. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Princess. Show all posts
Sunday, March 18, 2012
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
Winter Vacation, Days 2-5
Sorry I'm so late in posting this. My migraines have come back with a vengeance and I haven't been able to be on the computer too much because the light from the screen hurts my head.
Anyway, onto Day 2 of vacation. We all woke up late, so we couldn't go to the zoo. Instead, I took T and Princess to go see Journey 2: The Mysterious Island. It was the first time either of them have gone to the movies. We got there early, got popcorn, and sat down. Before the movie started, T wanted to leave. He threw a little bit of a tantrum, but managed to do it quietly and we got to stay and see the movie. I got some nasty scratches from him that are currently infected, but it could have been worse.
They both thought the movie was so cool. I really liked it too-mostly because The Rock was in it and he's awesome. The special effects were pretty great too. T has been begging me since then to go see the Lorax, so I'm going to take him this weekend.
After the movie, I took them to Johnny Rockets, since I haven't had their chili cheese fries since I was in college. T got really antsy, insisted on sitting under the table on the floor, and decided it was his job to help the waitress by giving everyone ketchup. Princess burnt her mouth on her first bite of french fry and refused to eat anymore. We ended wboxing up the food and leaving.
Day 3 of vacation took us to the Museum of Natural History to see the dinosaurs. Unfortunately, the parking garage was full at the museum, so we had to park 6 blocks away. It was a little nerve wracking for me to have my preschoolers walking that far in the city. They've never been in the city before, and there's all the traffic, and they're not used to it. But it was fine and it turned out just to be mommy worry.
It was beautiful outside, and crazy hot in the museum. The heat was blasting and I was dying after 5 minutes. We ended up checking our coats, and T was afraid they were taking his jacket forever. He had a little meltdown, but the coat check woman finally managed to assure him he would get it back later. The kids wanted to take the elevator, even though we didn't have Goober or a stroller with us. There was a line, but finally we got on it. There were 3 nannies with their charges, and a woman from Florida with her kids. The elevator guy thought I was a nanny too. I took it as a compliment that I look young and not nearly as washed out as I feel.
We were only in the dinosaur wing for 10 or 15 minutes before the kids decided they were starving and had to eat immediately. Back down we went, to the food court. After we ate, we went to the gift shop. T picked out a set of space shuttles, and Princess got a pink dolphin stuffed animal.
They weren't too keen on a lot of the museum. They weren't interested in the hall with the giant whale, or the Asian wing. I finally got them to go look at the African animal dioramas, which they did like. T threw a few fits, but it was mostly okay. The heat got to me, though. I had to sit down every time we went up or down a flight of stairs because I would start sweating and getting dizzy. We went back to look at the dinosaurs again, and after they saw the T-Rex, they were ready to go home.
I promised them that if they behaved on the way back to the car, we would get cupcakes (there was a Crumbs half a block from where we parked). It was a slow walk back. They were so tired. The cupcakes were amazing, though.
Then I got lost in New Jersey. I had to take the lower level of the bridge and I always take the upper level. I ended up having to go on the Turnpike South, which I am not familiar with. I got off at the Meadowlands to turn around, and followed the signs for the Garden State Parkway, which I know like the back of my hand. Then the signs for it stopped. I had to choose highways and had no idea if I was going in the right direction, because I didn't recognize any of the town names. I called my parents, who were golfing in Myrtle Beach, and my dad somehow figured out where I was, so I got back on track. My trip home, which should have taken 30-45 minutes took close to 2 hours.
That's when the migraine started. I've had migraines for years, but they've cooled off since Goober was born. I'm allergic to Imitrex and the other migraine medications, and I've tried a bunch of preventatives that didn't work either. So I'm basically SOL unless a doctor gives me narcotic pain relievers. I was up all night, miserable. I almost went to the ER a few times, but I really didn't have anyone to take care of all the kids if I went. So I stayed in bed, pillow on my head, and tried to keep my kids quiet. Yes, it involved lots of junk food, but the tradeoff was necessary.
On day 5 of vacation, I didn't feel great, but I promised the kids we would go to the zoo. Except there was snow on the ground and it was raining when we woke up. So went went to the aquarium on Coney Island. I was under the assumption it was indoors, but I was wrong. It was mostly outdoor. And it wasn't as cool as I thought it would be. T and Princess had fun. Goober didn't really like it. We saw the entire thing in an hour and a half. I felt a little gypped, since it took about that long to get there, and I assumed it would be an all day thing. The kids were happy once they got toys, though. Princess got another pink dolphin stuffed animal, although this one came in a purse. T got a 3D dolphin puzzle and sticky frogs. Goober got a tiny little shark stuffed animal.
Instead of going home, since the boyfriend wasn't feeling well, we went back to my parents. They were on their way home from Myrtle Beach, but we left before they got there. The kids love being there to play. It's roomier than our house, so they have more room to play. We stayed there until dinner time, when T got really cranky and wanted to leave.
On Saturday (Day 6 of vacation), I took T and Goober over to my parent's house, and stayed there most of the day. The boyfriend was still under the weather, and Princess slept all day. Sunday we stayed in.
T was so happy to go back to school on Monday. He really loves his teacher and his class. I got a letter that his meeting to get re-evaluated will be on April 20. I hope they'll let him stay in the school next year. He's doing really well there, and I can't afford for him to go to preschool at all if the district won't pay for it. We're also going to get Princess evaluated and try to get her into the school because she's been copying his speech and now she doesn't pronounce a lot of words right.
All in all, vacation was good. Now T wants to go to Disney World, or as he calls it, Mickey Land. He'll have to wait for his grandparents to do that one, but I hope we do get to go one day.
Anyway, onto Day 2 of vacation. We all woke up late, so we couldn't go to the zoo. Instead, I took T and Princess to go see Journey 2: The Mysterious Island. It was the first time either of them have gone to the movies. We got there early, got popcorn, and sat down. Before the movie started, T wanted to leave. He threw a little bit of a tantrum, but managed to do it quietly and we got to stay and see the movie. I got some nasty scratches from him that are currently infected, but it could have been worse.
They both thought the movie was so cool. I really liked it too-mostly because The Rock was in it and he's awesome. The special effects were pretty great too. T has been begging me since then to go see the Lorax, so I'm going to take him this weekend.
After the movie, I took them to Johnny Rockets, since I haven't had their chili cheese fries since I was in college. T got really antsy, insisted on sitting under the table on the floor, and decided it was his job to help the waitress by giving everyone ketchup. Princess burnt her mouth on her first bite of french fry and refused to eat anymore. We ended wboxing up the food and leaving.
Day 3 of vacation took us to the Museum of Natural History to see the dinosaurs. Unfortunately, the parking garage was full at the museum, so we had to park 6 blocks away. It was a little nerve wracking for me to have my preschoolers walking that far in the city. They've never been in the city before, and there's all the traffic, and they're not used to it. But it was fine and it turned out just to be mommy worry.
It was beautiful outside, and crazy hot in the museum. The heat was blasting and I was dying after 5 minutes. We ended up checking our coats, and T was afraid they were taking his jacket forever. He had a little meltdown, but the coat check woman finally managed to assure him he would get it back later. The kids wanted to take the elevator, even though we didn't have Goober or a stroller with us. There was a line, but finally we got on it. There were 3 nannies with their charges, and a woman from Florida with her kids. The elevator guy thought I was a nanny too. I took it as a compliment that I look young and not nearly as washed out as I feel.
We were only in the dinosaur wing for 10 or 15 minutes before the kids decided they were starving and had to eat immediately. Back down we went, to the food court. After we ate, we went to the gift shop. T picked out a set of space shuttles, and Princess got a pink dolphin stuffed animal.
They weren't too keen on a lot of the museum. They weren't interested in the hall with the giant whale, or the Asian wing. I finally got them to go look at the African animal dioramas, which they did like. T threw a few fits, but it was mostly okay. The heat got to me, though. I had to sit down every time we went up or down a flight of stairs because I would start sweating and getting dizzy. We went back to look at the dinosaurs again, and after they saw the T-Rex, they were ready to go home.
I promised them that if they behaved on the way back to the car, we would get cupcakes (there was a Crumbs half a block from where we parked). It was a slow walk back. They were so tired. The cupcakes were amazing, though.
Then I got lost in New Jersey. I had to take the lower level of the bridge and I always take the upper level. I ended up having to go on the Turnpike South, which I am not familiar with. I got off at the Meadowlands to turn around, and followed the signs for the Garden State Parkway, which I know like the back of my hand. Then the signs for it stopped. I had to choose highways and had no idea if I was going in the right direction, because I didn't recognize any of the town names. I called my parents, who were golfing in Myrtle Beach, and my dad somehow figured out where I was, so I got back on track. My trip home, which should have taken 30-45 minutes took close to 2 hours.
That's when the migraine started. I've had migraines for years, but they've cooled off since Goober was born. I'm allergic to Imitrex and the other migraine medications, and I've tried a bunch of preventatives that didn't work either. So I'm basically SOL unless a doctor gives me narcotic pain relievers. I was up all night, miserable. I almost went to the ER a few times, but I really didn't have anyone to take care of all the kids if I went. So I stayed in bed, pillow on my head, and tried to keep my kids quiet. Yes, it involved lots of junk food, but the tradeoff was necessary.
On day 5 of vacation, I didn't feel great, but I promised the kids we would go to the zoo. Except there was snow on the ground and it was raining when we woke up. So went went to the aquarium on Coney Island. I was under the assumption it was indoors, but I was wrong. It was mostly outdoor. And it wasn't as cool as I thought it would be. T and Princess had fun. Goober didn't really like it. We saw the entire thing in an hour and a half. I felt a little gypped, since it took about that long to get there, and I assumed it would be an all day thing. The kids were happy once they got toys, though. Princess got another pink dolphin stuffed animal, although this one came in a purse. T got a 3D dolphin puzzle and sticky frogs. Goober got a tiny little shark stuffed animal.
Instead of going home, since the boyfriend wasn't feeling well, we went back to my parents. They were on their way home from Myrtle Beach, but we left before they got there. The kids love being there to play. It's roomier than our house, so they have more room to play. We stayed there until dinner time, when T got really cranky and wanted to leave.
On Saturday (Day 6 of vacation), I took T and Goober over to my parent's house, and stayed there most of the day. The boyfriend was still under the weather, and Princess slept all day. Sunday we stayed in.
T was so happy to go back to school on Monday. He really loves his teacher and his class. I got a letter that his meeting to get re-evaluated will be on April 20. I hope they'll let him stay in the school next year. He's doing really well there, and I can't afford for him to go to preschool at all if the district won't pay for it. We're also going to get Princess evaluated and try to get her into the school because she's been copying his speech and now she doesn't pronounce a lot of words right.
All in all, vacation was good. Now T wants to go to Disney World, or as he calls it, Mickey Land. He'll have to wait for his grandparents to do that one, but I hope we do get to go one day.
Monday, February 20, 2012
Winter Vacation, Day 1- The Aquarium Debacle
T has off from school this week for winter vacation. My parents decided to go to Myrtle Beach on a golf trip all this week, and my sister is panhandling her way from NY to Wyoming to go to a wedding. I am here with all 3 kids, all week long, with basically no help. T is not happy there's no school-he cried all weekend that he didn't want to have vacation because he loves school. So I promised him we would have a great time and I would take him to a bunch of places.
He wanted to go the aquarium, the zoo, and to see the dinosaur bones at the Museum of Natural History. Since the weather is super nice for February, I thought none of this would be a problem. I didn't realize how hard it is to try to take 3 small children somewhere by myself. In the past, someone has always insisted on coming with me, or taking one of the kids so I only have 2 with me.
Not today. We had a little bit of a late start, so I decided to take them to the Maritime Aquarium in Norwalk, CT. It's about an hour drive. The trip started okay, until T wouldn't leave the touch tank. Princess was terrified of the crabs and other creatures, so I kept an eye on her while she ran around to the nearby tanks. Goober kept crying, so I finally got T to keep walking.
Then Goober threw up all over himself and my brand new Sit and Stand Stroller. And I didn't pack extra clothes in the diaper bag because I have never once needed them on a day trip in the 4 years I've had children. And I did the one time they weren't there. We were right next to the children's play area when this happened, so while I attempted to clean as much as I could with the wiped I'd packed, there were 3 or 4 small children that weren't mine watching me, pointing out that there was a big pile of vomit all over.
Once my wipes were done, the mess wasn't that much better. We had to head down in the elevator to get to the bathroom, where another child complained that my baby smelled. No shit, kid. I had to sit poor Goob in the sink to get him clean, and there was only cold water. He was not happy. I spent a good 45 minutes getting barf off everything. But his shirt and jacket were soaked.
We had to go to the gift shop to buy him a shirt. We proceeded to walk down a long hallway, where I received a bunch of nasty stares and comments about my shirtless baby in the middle of February. Did these people somehow think I brought him to the aquarium without a shirt? Seriously. Of course I had to buy 3 shirts, since it wasn't fair if only the baby got one. $37 later, T decided he needed to eat.
Not the snacks I brought, but cafe food. We took the elevator upstairs (and I learned the baby is terrified of elevators), and the kids decided they wanted french fries and onion rings. I also got a grilled cheese sandwich since the baby wanted to eat and I felt bad. I figured it was less greasy than anything else there, and it was bland too.
After lunch, we went back to see more stuff. Princess wanted to see the sharks, and T wanted to go back to the touch tank. They were fighting about it, so I took them somewhere else entirely. They had a boating exhibit where the kids could play on a fishing boat and pretend to fish and put on life jackets. T had a bunch of fun. Princess sat on the edge of the boat, glaring and yelling at kids who ran into her or were too loud. I let the baby run around for a little, but his shoes kept slipping on the concrete and he wasn't too happy after he fell on his face a few times.
T didn't want to leave, and threw himself on the middle of the floor, so no one could get around him. I told him we were going home since he wasn't behaving, and had to carry him out of the exhibit. He screamed all the way outside. Those looks and comments I got from old ladies were fun. I have a tip for them: if you don't want to deal with noisy children but want to go to the aquarium, don't go on President's Day when all the kids are out of school!
He finally told me he would behave, but we were already outside and at the parking garage. So I promised him that if he was good all the way home, we could stop at Toys R Us. Yeah, I bribe my kids and they're spoiled as hell.
I couldn't find the highway entrance on the way home, got stuck in crazy traffic, and spent another $30 on a Power Ranger and Littlest Pet Shop toy. Of course, when I got home, the boyfriend hadn't cleaned anything or taken out any trash. I was exhausted, and he told me he would watch the kids for a couple hours so I could rest. Instead, he went back to sleep after sleeping all day. And Goob threw up all over my bed.
Well, it was an eventful day. Tomorrow, I think we're going to go to the museum. That is, if the boyfriend comes and the baby's okay. Otherwise, I'll leave Goober with him (or take him if he's feeling better), and go to the Bronx Zoo. The kids love it, and we have a membership, so it's totally free, except for food and the gift shop.
He wanted to go the aquarium, the zoo, and to see the dinosaur bones at the Museum of Natural History. Since the weather is super nice for February, I thought none of this would be a problem. I didn't realize how hard it is to try to take 3 small children somewhere by myself. In the past, someone has always insisted on coming with me, or taking one of the kids so I only have 2 with me.
Not today. We had a little bit of a late start, so I decided to take them to the Maritime Aquarium in Norwalk, CT. It's about an hour drive. The trip started okay, until T wouldn't leave the touch tank. Princess was terrified of the crabs and other creatures, so I kept an eye on her while she ran around to the nearby tanks. Goober kept crying, so I finally got T to keep walking.
Then Goober threw up all over himself and my brand new Sit and Stand Stroller. And I didn't pack extra clothes in the diaper bag because I have never once needed them on a day trip in the 4 years I've had children. And I did the one time they weren't there. We were right next to the children's play area when this happened, so while I attempted to clean as much as I could with the wiped I'd packed, there were 3 or 4 small children that weren't mine watching me, pointing out that there was a big pile of vomit all over.
Once my wipes were done, the mess wasn't that much better. We had to head down in the elevator to get to the bathroom, where another child complained that my baby smelled. No shit, kid. I had to sit poor Goob in the sink to get him clean, and there was only cold water. He was not happy. I spent a good 45 minutes getting barf off everything. But his shirt and jacket were soaked.
We had to go to the gift shop to buy him a shirt. We proceeded to walk down a long hallway, where I received a bunch of nasty stares and comments about my shirtless baby in the middle of February. Did these people somehow think I brought him to the aquarium without a shirt? Seriously. Of course I had to buy 3 shirts, since it wasn't fair if only the baby got one. $37 later, T decided he needed to eat.
Not the snacks I brought, but cafe food. We took the elevator upstairs (and I learned the baby is terrified of elevators), and the kids decided they wanted french fries and onion rings. I also got a grilled cheese sandwich since the baby wanted to eat and I felt bad. I figured it was less greasy than anything else there, and it was bland too.
After lunch, we went back to see more stuff. Princess wanted to see the sharks, and T wanted to go back to the touch tank. They were fighting about it, so I took them somewhere else entirely. They had a boating exhibit where the kids could play on a fishing boat and pretend to fish and put on life jackets. T had a bunch of fun. Princess sat on the edge of the boat, glaring and yelling at kids who ran into her or were too loud. I let the baby run around for a little, but his shoes kept slipping on the concrete and he wasn't too happy after he fell on his face a few times.
T didn't want to leave, and threw himself on the middle of the floor, so no one could get around him. I told him we were going home since he wasn't behaving, and had to carry him out of the exhibit. He screamed all the way outside. Those looks and comments I got from old ladies were fun. I have a tip for them: if you don't want to deal with noisy children but want to go to the aquarium, don't go on President's Day when all the kids are out of school!
He finally told me he would behave, but we were already outside and at the parking garage. So I promised him that if he was good all the way home, we could stop at Toys R Us. Yeah, I bribe my kids and they're spoiled as hell.
I couldn't find the highway entrance on the way home, got stuck in crazy traffic, and spent another $30 on a Power Ranger and Littlest Pet Shop toy. Of course, when I got home, the boyfriend hadn't cleaned anything or taken out any trash. I was exhausted, and he told me he would watch the kids for a couple hours so I could rest. Instead, he went back to sleep after sleeping all day. And Goob threw up all over my bed.
Well, it was an eventful day. Tomorrow, I think we're going to go to the museum. That is, if the boyfriend comes and the baby's okay. Otherwise, I'll leave Goober with him (or take him if he's feeling better), and go to the Bronx Zoo. The kids love it, and we have a membership, so it's totally free, except for food and the gift shop.
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
Happy 3rd Birthday to the Princess!
I can't believe Princess is 3 years old today. Time has just flown by. Just like with T, I can't remember her being a newborn. I see the pictures I have and it's crazy to see how much she's grown.
I remember making Chocolate Banana cupcakes for her welcome home/T's first birthday party. I loved getting adorable outfits for my little girl, since girls are so much more fun to dress than boys.
Princess actually slept in a crib as a baby, and was the only one of my kids to do so. We moved her to a toddler bed at 11 months, but when I was 9 months pregnant with Goober and our apartment flooded, we had to move really quickly, and she's been sleeping on a couch with her dad since then.
She's always been my little drama queen. She constantly gets "boo boos" and cries about them until you pay attention to her. She hates to share, and is incredibly jealous, especially when it comes to daddy. She also bangs her head on the floor when she's mad-I thought she would have grown out of it by now, but at least we have wall to wall carpeting upstairs. Princess is definitely the little boss of our house.
When she was about 15 months old, we lived in a little 2 bedroom apartment and had the kitchen gated off because the landlords wouldn't fix the broken cabinets. Anyway, next to the baby gate, there was a big drawer that we used as a junk drawer. She somehow got into it one day, and drank an entire air freshener plug in. The boyfriend called poison control and she was okay after she drank 2 cups of milk. I will never forget that her breath smelled like flowers for 3 days. You knew she was in the room, even when your eyes were closed. I thought it was hilarious.
She's my go-to child when I need to run errands. She'll walk around the stores and really enjoys it. I've yet to have her throw a tantrum in a store, unless it's because we're leaving and she doesn't want to go home. If I want to go out to eat, she and I usually go together too. The boyfriend hates restaurants, so I take her instead. She's my little buddy.
She's just grown up so fast. I remember dressing her in itty bitty outfits when she was 6 months old, and now she's 3. Her Belle Halloween costume sits in my closet, and it's small enough for some dolls to wear.
I don't know what I would do without Princess in my life. I'm so blessed to have such an amazing daughter, and I adore spoiling her (like buying the entire prarie girl line of clothes at Babies R Us for her today-they are so cute-if you have a daughter, you should totally check them out).
I remember making Chocolate Banana cupcakes for her welcome home/T's first birthday party. I loved getting adorable outfits for my little girl, since girls are so much more fun to dress than boys.
Princess actually slept in a crib as a baby, and was the only one of my kids to do so. We moved her to a toddler bed at 11 months, but when I was 9 months pregnant with Goober and our apartment flooded, we had to move really quickly, and she's been sleeping on a couch with her dad since then.
She's always been my little drama queen. She constantly gets "boo boos" and cries about them until you pay attention to her. She hates to share, and is incredibly jealous, especially when it comes to daddy. She also bangs her head on the floor when she's mad-I thought she would have grown out of it by now, but at least we have wall to wall carpeting upstairs. Princess is definitely the little boss of our house.
When she was about 15 months old, we lived in a little 2 bedroom apartment and had the kitchen gated off because the landlords wouldn't fix the broken cabinets. Anyway, next to the baby gate, there was a big drawer that we used as a junk drawer. She somehow got into it one day, and drank an entire air freshener plug in. The boyfriend called poison control and she was okay after she drank 2 cups of milk. I will never forget that her breath smelled like flowers for 3 days. You knew she was in the room, even when your eyes were closed. I thought it was hilarious.
She's my go-to child when I need to run errands. She'll walk around the stores and really enjoys it. I've yet to have her throw a tantrum in a store, unless it's because we're leaving and she doesn't want to go home. If I want to go out to eat, she and I usually go together too. The boyfriend hates restaurants, so I take her instead. She's my little buddy.
She's just grown up so fast. I remember dressing her in itty bitty outfits when she was 6 months old, and now she's 3. Her Belle Halloween costume sits in my closet, and it's small enough for some dolls to wear.
I don't know what I would do without Princess in my life. I'm so blessed to have such an amazing daughter, and I adore spoiling her (like buying the entire prarie girl line of clothes at Babies R Us for her today-they are so cute-if you have a daughter, you should totally check them out).
Sunday, January 22, 2012
The Year is Not Going as I Planned
I've been so lazy about blogging since the holidays. I can't seem to get inspired enough to write, and being sick for an entire week totally threw me off.
I've still only gone to the gym once, and now my parents reneged on watching 2 of my kids to give me a chance to go because my sister decided to go back to school. She's starting a nursing program this week, so they have to watch her son while she's at school. I don't know why she decided to go to community college where I live, because she lives an hour and a half away. It just kind of puts a damper on things for me, because sometimes I need the help, and now they have to watch my nephew every day. T is going to be pretty bummed out too, because now he can't go there after school for a few hours every day like he's used to.
Speaking of T, he's turning 4 on Monday, and Princess is turning 3 on Wednesday. I can't believe how fast they're growing up. It feels like they were little just yesterday, but I honestly can't remember either of them being babies, which is weird. I can remember Goober as a baby, but maybe that's because he's the youngest. Thinking about this makes me want another baby, even though I know that is crazy and not possible at the moment.
The boyfriend needs to get a real job, as the internet thing he was working on doesn't seem to be panning out. He was doing well until he decided to have other people help, and everything went to crap. He doesn't seem to care that I'm maxing out all my credit cards just to pay for food, and I'm going to have to borrow money again just to pay our share of the rent this month. I'm really getting sick of him not caring enough to get a job. He knows that if worse came to worse, our families would bail us out so we had food and a place to live, so he's in no rush to get a job.
Since the stupid Star Wars computer game came out a few weeks ago, that's all he's been doing in his waking hours. He wears headphones and plays the damn game. He can't even hear if the kids are screaming 2 feet away from him. I have to tap him on the shoulder and yell if I need his help for anything, and that pisses him off because then he gets killed in his game. I tried to talk to him about it, but he doesn't seem to get it or care, and it's not fair. If he's home and not working, why the hell can't he help a little with the kids, or take out the trash, or clean up his dirty dishes? I wish I knew a way to knock some sense into him.
On a better note, I decided to start a makeup blog as well. You can find it here. I only have a couple posts up now, but I'm planning to swatch a bunch of makeup if I can find a working camera, and post looks of the day.
I hope this coming week will go well. I'm bringing cookie cake to school for T's birthday on Monday, so I hope the kids in his class have fun. I'm also having a party for T and Princess next Saturday. I invited his whole class, and even though the RSVP date was yesterday, I've only heard from 7 out of 17 kids. I hope some more parents call me tomorrow, since we kind of spent a lot of money for the party (we're having a musician who does an interactive show with the kids-my kids saw him when we were pumpkin picking and loved him).
I've still only gone to the gym once, and now my parents reneged on watching 2 of my kids to give me a chance to go because my sister decided to go back to school. She's starting a nursing program this week, so they have to watch her son while she's at school. I don't know why she decided to go to community college where I live, because she lives an hour and a half away. It just kind of puts a damper on things for me, because sometimes I need the help, and now they have to watch my nephew every day. T is going to be pretty bummed out too, because now he can't go there after school for a few hours every day like he's used to.
Speaking of T, he's turning 4 on Monday, and Princess is turning 3 on Wednesday. I can't believe how fast they're growing up. It feels like they were little just yesterday, but I honestly can't remember either of them being babies, which is weird. I can remember Goober as a baby, but maybe that's because he's the youngest. Thinking about this makes me want another baby, even though I know that is crazy and not possible at the moment.
The boyfriend needs to get a real job, as the internet thing he was working on doesn't seem to be panning out. He was doing well until he decided to have other people help, and everything went to crap. He doesn't seem to care that I'm maxing out all my credit cards just to pay for food, and I'm going to have to borrow money again just to pay our share of the rent this month. I'm really getting sick of him not caring enough to get a job. He knows that if worse came to worse, our families would bail us out so we had food and a place to live, so he's in no rush to get a job.
Since the stupid Star Wars computer game came out a few weeks ago, that's all he's been doing in his waking hours. He wears headphones and plays the damn game. He can't even hear if the kids are screaming 2 feet away from him. I have to tap him on the shoulder and yell if I need his help for anything, and that pisses him off because then he gets killed in his game. I tried to talk to him about it, but he doesn't seem to get it or care, and it's not fair. If he's home and not working, why the hell can't he help a little with the kids, or take out the trash, or clean up his dirty dishes? I wish I knew a way to knock some sense into him.
On a better note, I decided to start a makeup blog as well. You can find it here. I only have a couple posts up now, but I'm planning to swatch a bunch of makeup if I can find a working camera, and post looks of the day.
I hope this coming week will go well. I'm bringing cookie cake to school for T's birthday on Monday, so I hope the kids in his class have fun. I'm also having a party for T and Princess next Saturday. I invited his whole class, and even though the RSVP date was yesterday, I've only heard from 7 out of 17 kids. I hope some more parents call me tomorrow, since we kind of spent a lot of money for the party (we're having a musician who does an interactive show with the kids-my kids saw him when we were pumpkin picking and loved him).
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
Wednesday, January 4, 2012
Wordless Wednesday- Happy Kids and a Crazy Cat on Christmas
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| Our tree |
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| Princess' Computer |
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| T and his Bat Cave (don't mind his pants-he hates staying dressed) |
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| Goober just ran around in circles all day |
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| Baby Cat (aka Little Fart) trying to attack a Fur Real Friends cat |
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
Saturday, November 5, 2011
On Sick Kids and a Dead Battery
This has been a trying few weeks for me. First of all, Goober, my 1 year old has been really sick. He had a 104 degree fever for 5 days straight and it was terrifying. All I could do was think about T as a 1 year-old in the hospital with seizures from a fever like that. Every time Goober twitched in his sleep, I was sure it was going to turn into a convulsion. I did not leave his side until the fever finally broke. Thankfully, he came through unscathed, except for all the crying and sweating and chills and misery a fever brings.
Then there was the freak snowstorm. My house didn't have damage or lose power, but my mom's house, which is right down the street, was hit pretty bad. There were huge branches and tree limbs down all over her street, and a power line came down between her house and the neighbor's. They still haven't fixed all the power outages or taken care of all the huge downed trees blocking some streets.
The night before Halloween, T got sick. I thought he had food poisoning, because his dad wasn't feeling well either, and they shared a sandwich. I was wrong. We managed to go trick-or-treating for an hour before things got worse. Princess was sick. Then Goober was sick again, with another fever and whatever stomach virus everyone else had. Now the kids are all okay, but the MIL is really sick and the boyfriend is still a little under the weather.
Then, on Friday, when I tried to take T to school for the first time since Tuesday (my mom drove him the other days because I was taking care of the rest of my sick family), my car was dead. My dad has been telling me since last winter that I need to get a new car battery because I've been driving for 7 years with the same one. I didn't listen, and he was right (he usually is).
So I called my mom to come pick T up to take him to school again. I went with her and we stopped on the way back to get a new battery. I figured the boyfriend could change it for me, even though he still wasn't 100%.
I didn't know that a Hyundai battery is notoriously difficult to change. You have to unscrew half the damn bolts under the hood to get the battery loose. And then there is another bolt by the bottom of the battery that locks is down. It took over an hour to get most of the bolts loosened.
Then we stripped the socket wrench trying to open the battery lock (and by we, I mean me-he couldn't turn it because of corrosion so I tried and stripped it). I walked to my mom's house to get my dad's socket wrenches, but he took them with him on his golf outing (I don't know what he could possibly need a socket wrench for while golfing).
So I borrowed my mom's car to go in search of a new one, although the boyfriend found a ratchet and only needed an extension bar. The first store I went to was a bust. I asked someone to help me because I wasn't seeing what I needed, and the store associate told me he would be right with me. I waited, and waited, and waited. Until about 4 store associates were chatting it up with each other, not helping anyone. I left, extremely irritated.
Next I went to the automotive part of said store. They couldn't help me because I bought my battery somewhere else but they would help if I brought my car for them to change it. Yeah, my car is sitting in my driveway with a bunch of crap under the hood taken apart. Unless they could teleport it, the car wasn't leaving my driveway until it was running again. And I share my driveway with a landscaping company the landlord owns, so it's always a hectic place.
Then I went to AutoZone. It was like walking into heaven. I was helped immediately, and when the lady didn't know much about tools, she got someone else to help me who did. So Fernando, thank you for making it easy for me. You found my extender bar, and when I needed a longer one, found that and an adapter so it would work. Yes, I needed to buy a new ratchet in the process, but it was so worth it.
I am seriously buying everything car related from Auto Zone from now on. Once I got home, the new battery was in the car and it was running in 15 minutes. After we spent hours trying to get the old one out. So now I'm happy. But the boyfriend is exhausted since he wasn't feeling well to start off with.
Then there was the freak snowstorm. My house didn't have damage or lose power, but my mom's house, which is right down the street, was hit pretty bad. There were huge branches and tree limbs down all over her street, and a power line came down between her house and the neighbor's. They still haven't fixed all the power outages or taken care of all the huge downed trees blocking some streets.
The night before Halloween, T got sick. I thought he had food poisoning, because his dad wasn't feeling well either, and they shared a sandwich. I was wrong. We managed to go trick-or-treating for an hour before things got worse. Princess was sick. Then Goober was sick again, with another fever and whatever stomach virus everyone else had. Now the kids are all okay, but the MIL is really sick and the boyfriend is still a little under the weather.
Then, on Friday, when I tried to take T to school for the first time since Tuesday (my mom drove him the other days because I was taking care of the rest of my sick family), my car was dead. My dad has been telling me since last winter that I need to get a new car battery because I've been driving for 7 years with the same one. I didn't listen, and he was right (he usually is).
So I called my mom to come pick T up to take him to school again. I went with her and we stopped on the way back to get a new battery. I figured the boyfriend could change it for me, even though he still wasn't 100%.
I didn't know that a Hyundai battery is notoriously difficult to change. You have to unscrew half the damn bolts under the hood to get the battery loose. And then there is another bolt by the bottom of the battery that locks is down. It took over an hour to get most of the bolts loosened.
Then we stripped the socket wrench trying to open the battery lock (and by we, I mean me-he couldn't turn it because of corrosion so I tried and stripped it). I walked to my mom's house to get my dad's socket wrenches, but he took them with him on his golf outing (I don't know what he could possibly need a socket wrench for while golfing).
So I borrowed my mom's car to go in search of a new one, although the boyfriend found a ratchet and only needed an extension bar. The first store I went to was a bust. I asked someone to help me because I wasn't seeing what I needed, and the store associate told me he would be right with me. I waited, and waited, and waited. Until about 4 store associates were chatting it up with each other, not helping anyone. I left, extremely irritated.
Next I went to the automotive part of said store. They couldn't help me because I bought my battery somewhere else but they would help if I brought my car for them to change it. Yeah, my car is sitting in my driveway with a bunch of crap under the hood taken apart. Unless they could teleport it, the car wasn't leaving my driveway until it was running again. And I share my driveway with a landscaping company the landlord owns, so it's always a hectic place.
Then I went to AutoZone. It was like walking into heaven. I was helped immediately, and when the lady didn't know much about tools, she got someone else to help me who did. So Fernando, thank you for making it easy for me. You found my extender bar, and when I needed a longer one, found that and an adapter so it would work. Yes, I needed to buy a new ratchet in the process, but it was so worth it.
I am seriously buying everything car related from Auto Zone from now on. Once I got home, the new battery was in the car and it was running in 15 minutes. After we spent hours trying to get the old one out. So now I'm happy. But the boyfriend is exhausted since he wasn't feeling well to start off with.
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
Monday, October 10, 2011
Not Being Gentle
I don't understand why my kids can't be gentle. I swear I wasn't like that as a child. Well, except when I pushed my baby sister off a table when we went to adopt her (she was in an infant seat, and she was fine). I was gentle with my pets, and my sister.
But not my kids. I don't know where they get it from. Maybe it's because I have two boys? I just don't know. My older kids, T, and Princess, are so rough and tumble. I cringe when they play together because I'm sure they're going to hurt one another. Sometimes they do, but they're usually fine.
My poor Goober gets the worst of it since he's the smallest. He's old enough to want to play, yet small enough that he can't unless they're gentle with him. It doesn't happen. One day, I left the room for a minute, and when I came back, T had Goober in a headlock, and Princess was jumping over their heads. On the bed.
Then there's the kitten. I adopted two cats last week, a momma named Cheese, and her 6 week old kitten, who we named Cheddar. I was wary of getting a kitten, since my kids tend to not be gentle, but I was overcome by his cuteness and couldn't resist.
I'm regretting this decision. I adore the kitten. He's playful and Goober thinks he's the funniest thing in the word. Princess is terrified of him, because when she tried to play with him, he used his claws and she got a little scratch on her face. But I'm terrified T is going to kill him. He cannot seem to be gentle. He's fine with the other cats, who are big. Not the kitten.
I have to make sure every minute of the day that I know where T is, and where the kitten is, so they are never unsupervised together. I think T loves the kitten; he always asks me where baby cat is and wants to play with him. This has resulted in him flinging the kitten end over end across the room, flinging him off the bed onto the floor, and trying to throw him over the railing and down the stairs. The poor kitten.
No matter how many times I warn T to be gentle and give him time-outs when he doesn't listen, he can't be gentle. He is rough with everyone, including me. Princess is pretty much the same, although she can manage to be gentle for a little while when she is reminded. Maybe it's because she is a girl. And Goober is too little to know what I mean when I tell him to be gentle. Surprisingly, he's been the best with the kitten. They seem to get along.
I hope one day the message will sink in. If it doesn't, I'm sure my kids will be terrors in school. T just started preschool, and I will not be surprised when the call comes that he did something rough to someone else's kid. After all, he only lasted 2 half-days in daycare before they asked me not to bring him back. I guess that's what parenting is though; trying to instill values in your children and them not listening. Maybe the message will sink in one day.
But not my kids. I don't know where they get it from. Maybe it's because I have two boys? I just don't know. My older kids, T, and Princess, are so rough and tumble. I cringe when they play together because I'm sure they're going to hurt one another. Sometimes they do, but they're usually fine.
My poor Goober gets the worst of it since he's the smallest. He's old enough to want to play, yet small enough that he can't unless they're gentle with him. It doesn't happen. One day, I left the room for a minute, and when I came back, T had Goober in a headlock, and Princess was jumping over their heads. On the bed.
Then there's the kitten. I adopted two cats last week, a momma named Cheese, and her 6 week old kitten, who we named Cheddar. I was wary of getting a kitten, since my kids tend to not be gentle, but I was overcome by his cuteness and couldn't resist.
I'm regretting this decision. I adore the kitten. He's playful and Goober thinks he's the funniest thing in the word. Princess is terrified of him, because when she tried to play with him, he used his claws and she got a little scratch on her face. But I'm terrified T is going to kill him. He cannot seem to be gentle. He's fine with the other cats, who are big. Not the kitten.
I have to make sure every minute of the day that I know where T is, and where the kitten is, so they are never unsupervised together. I think T loves the kitten; he always asks me where baby cat is and wants to play with him. This has resulted in him flinging the kitten end over end across the room, flinging him off the bed onto the floor, and trying to throw him over the railing and down the stairs. The poor kitten.
No matter how many times I warn T to be gentle and give him time-outs when he doesn't listen, he can't be gentle. He is rough with everyone, including me. Princess is pretty much the same, although she can manage to be gentle for a little while when she is reminded. Maybe it's because she is a girl. And Goober is too little to know what I mean when I tell him to be gentle. Surprisingly, he's been the best with the kitten. They seem to get along.
I hope one day the message will sink in. If it doesn't, I'm sure my kids will be terrors in school. T just started preschool, and I will not be surprised when the call comes that he did something rough to someone else's kid. After all, he only lasted 2 half-days in daycare before they asked me not to bring him back. I guess that's what parenting is though; trying to instill values in your children and them not listening. Maybe the message will sink in one day.
Sunday, October 2, 2011
Princess' Teeth
So all I've been able to think about this weekend is Princess' teeth. I am so beyond stressed out about it. We have a consult with the dentist Monday afternoon, and it can't come soon enough but at the same time, I don't even want to go.
Over the summer, the boyfriend took her to the dentist because she had a couple discolored gray spots on her two front top teeth. Apparently they were cavities and she had 4 of them and would need 3 root canals and 4 crowns to fix them. We don't have dental insurance and we didn't have the money to pay for it, so we put it off.
Now her teeth look worse. I can actually see the cavities on the two front teeth, and the other two teeth have gray spots. So we have to get it fixed, and I need to borrow money to do it. I spoke with the dentist's office and they told me she has to go under general anesthesia at the hospital to get it done because she is not a very good patient. This will cost me $1750 plus whatever my medical insurance doesn't pay for the operating room, anesthesia, etc.
I don't know if I want to do this. I've read about baby crowns getting screwed up easily and the teeth have to be pulled anyway. When she's mad, Princess bangs her head on the floor. I have a feeling she may knock the crowns off if she gets them.
Also, I'm terrified of her going under general anesthesia. She's only 2 1/2. Anesthesia can be dangerous. And it's just her teeth, it's not some lifesaving surgery or something really medically necessary. I just don't know if I can agree to this.
T already had his top 4 teeth pulled due to an accident this spring. I think this is what I would prefer to do with Princess. I already know what it entails. She will be sedated with some liquid medicine. When she is sleepy, she will sit on someone's lap and get nitrous and a shot of Novocaine, and they will pull the teeth. It will all take less than an hour (30-40 minutes for the sedative to kick in, 10 minutes to pull the teeth, 5-10 minutes to recover). And it will cost me $1650. Then I can get her a flipper if need be so it looks like she has the teeth there.
The boyfriend totally disagrees with me on this. He wants to get the teeth fixed. It has been really tense all weekend. I just don't know what the best thing to do for her will be. I don't want to make the wrong decision but my gut is telling me to just get the teeth pulled. I don't want to start a fight with her dad or the dentist, but I think they're wrong. And I'm the one who is going to borrow the money, so I'd like to think that if we can't agree, I should get to choose in the end. But I also feel like thinking that way is messed up.
I really just don't know what to do. I wish the boyfriend would come around to thinking my way. It's going to be weird at the consultation when we don't agree on what to do. I wish it could just be over and done with already. And I wish someone had told me sooner that cavities were contagious. I really feel like I failed because both T and Princess have messed up front teeth. Even though we make sure they brush every day. I'm praying something doesn't happen to Goober now. I want tomorrow to be over.
NOTE: We went to the appointment and the dentist agreed with me that she should have 3 teeth removed because her roots are resorping. Tomorrow we have consult with the oral surgeon who pulled T's teeth. A month after the teeth are removed, she will get fitted for fake baby teeth. I am happy. And T now has a gigantic hole in his tooth-he had no cavities a month ago, so he must have smashed it on something and broken it. I hope it is fill-able. Also, any parents with kids over 1 who still use a bottle-stop before it's too late. The dentist told me that is why both my kids have bad front top teeth-the bottle. Look up baby bottle mouth to see some awful pictures of what it does to teeth.
Over the summer, the boyfriend took her to the dentist because she had a couple discolored gray spots on her two front top teeth. Apparently they were cavities and she had 4 of them and would need 3 root canals and 4 crowns to fix them. We don't have dental insurance and we didn't have the money to pay for it, so we put it off.
Now her teeth look worse. I can actually see the cavities on the two front teeth, and the other two teeth have gray spots. So we have to get it fixed, and I need to borrow money to do it. I spoke with the dentist's office and they told me she has to go under general anesthesia at the hospital to get it done because she is not a very good patient. This will cost me $1750 plus whatever my medical insurance doesn't pay for the operating room, anesthesia, etc.
I don't know if I want to do this. I've read about baby crowns getting screwed up easily and the teeth have to be pulled anyway. When she's mad, Princess bangs her head on the floor. I have a feeling she may knock the crowns off if she gets them.
Also, I'm terrified of her going under general anesthesia. She's only 2 1/2. Anesthesia can be dangerous. And it's just her teeth, it's not some lifesaving surgery or something really medically necessary. I just don't know if I can agree to this.
T already had his top 4 teeth pulled due to an accident this spring. I think this is what I would prefer to do with Princess. I already know what it entails. She will be sedated with some liquid medicine. When she is sleepy, she will sit on someone's lap and get nitrous and a shot of Novocaine, and they will pull the teeth. It will all take less than an hour (30-40 minutes for the sedative to kick in, 10 minutes to pull the teeth, 5-10 minutes to recover). And it will cost me $1650. Then I can get her a flipper if need be so it looks like she has the teeth there.
The boyfriend totally disagrees with me on this. He wants to get the teeth fixed. It has been really tense all weekend. I just don't know what the best thing to do for her will be. I don't want to make the wrong decision but my gut is telling me to just get the teeth pulled. I don't want to start a fight with her dad or the dentist, but I think they're wrong. And I'm the one who is going to borrow the money, so I'd like to think that if we can't agree, I should get to choose in the end. But I also feel like thinking that way is messed up.
I really just don't know what to do. I wish the boyfriend would come around to thinking my way. It's going to be weird at the consultation when we don't agree on what to do. I wish it could just be over and done with already. And I wish someone had told me sooner that cavities were contagious. I really feel like I failed because both T and Princess have messed up front teeth. Even though we make sure they brush every day. I'm praying something doesn't happen to Goober now. I want tomorrow to be over.
NOTE: We went to the appointment and the dentist agreed with me that she should have 3 teeth removed because her roots are resorping. Tomorrow we have consult with the oral surgeon who pulled T's teeth. A month after the teeth are removed, she will get fitted for fake baby teeth. I am happy. And T now has a gigantic hole in his tooth-he had no cavities a month ago, so he must have smashed it on something and broken it. I hope it is fill-able. Also, any parents with kids over 1 who still use a bottle-stop before it's too late. The dentist told me that is why both my kids have bad front top teeth-the bottle. Look up baby bottle mouth to see some awful pictures of what it does to teeth.
Thursday, September 29, 2011
Labels
I'll admit it. I label my kids. I was also labeled as a kid. I don't know if it's a good thing or a bad thing. Maybe it's both. But it's really hard not to label my kids, and some of the other kids they are in contact with.
I was always the "smart kid". From an early age, I was at the top of the learning curve. By 1, I knew over 200 words. By 2, I memorized poems and could recite the Pledge of Allegiance. By 3, I was writing and illustrating my own stories. In school, teachers always expected a lot of me. And they got it from my work. But I was also the "shy kid" to teachers. I would never raise my hand in class. I never jumped into a conversation. I didn't do well in groups (unless I did all the work and everyone else left me alone).
It was also a lot of pressure. If I didn't do well on something, I felt really bad about it. I had a hard time in 10th grade math and it was the only time I ever failed anything. I remember being humiliated that I only got a 510 on my French SAT II.
Overall, I think it helped me achieve all I could in school. I held myself to a high standard because people looked at me as the "smart kid" and I didn't want to let them, or myself, down. And, well, I've always been shy and I always will be. I'm slightly more assertive now, but only when I need to be. It is what it is.
I do label my kids. T is complicated. He's kind of my "problem child," even though I feel really mean saying that. It's not his fault. He has the speech problems and it affects his behavior. He throws bunches of tantrums every day. He hits and kicks me when he's frustrated. He punched the baby in the kidneys tonight because I told him he had to either wait until my show was over to watch his DVD or go watch it downstairs. He's unpredictable-one second he will be lovey and cuddly, then all of a sudden something sets him off and he's screaming, throwing things, hurting people.
When he is behaving, he is the sweetest kid you'll ever meet. He's always asking questions about everything. He loves posing for the camera. He shares his toys with the other kids. Adults love him because he is adorable and warms up to everyone right away. He cuddles with me at night and, since school has started, he's been sleeping at the foot of my bed with his dragon Happy Napper. I adore him.
Princess is my "drama queen" and "Daddy's little girl". She already has Daddy wrapped around her little finger and can anything she wants from him, usually by throwing a tantrum. I ignore her. I'm sure she thinks I'm mean because I don't cater to her every whim like her dad. She will scream and cry and bang her head on the floor to command total attention from Daddy. Oh, and she's jealous too. She'll throw a tantrum if he pays attention to the other kids or me.
When she's just with me and Daddy's not around, she's a little angel. She is so well behaved. I can take her to the store or to run errands and she is perfect. She's the only one of my children who I can take to a restaurant. It's like she has two totally different personalities depending on who she's with.
The there's Goober. I really don't have a label for him, but I can tell you that I spoil him. He is my little baby and in my eyes, he can do no wrong. I probably spend more time with him than I do with the other kids. I love having him with me, and I hog him. His grandparents really don't spend time with him and he's never spent a night with them like the older kids. In fact, I've only spent one night not sleeping in a bed with him since he was born.
If I could predict it, I think Goober will either become the "spoiled brat" or the "Mama's boy." Both of those labels are okay with me. I love my kids. They are my life. I don't have friends I go out with, I don't have any hobbies. I'm home all day, every day with my babies. I love all the ins and outs of their personalities, even the not so good parts. So I don't mind labeling them. I'm sure their labels with change as they grow up. But one label won't change-I will always label all my kids my "baby," long after they're grown up.
This post was written in response to a prompt from Mama Kat's Writer's Workshop. I chose 5.) What’s your stance on ‘labeling’? Were you labeled as a child? Have you labeled your own children? How do you feel about this?
I was always the "smart kid". From an early age, I was at the top of the learning curve. By 1, I knew over 200 words. By 2, I memorized poems and could recite the Pledge of Allegiance. By 3, I was writing and illustrating my own stories. In school, teachers always expected a lot of me. And they got it from my work. But I was also the "shy kid" to teachers. I would never raise my hand in class. I never jumped into a conversation. I didn't do well in groups (unless I did all the work and everyone else left me alone).
It was also a lot of pressure. If I didn't do well on something, I felt really bad about it. I had a hard time in 10th grade math and it was the only time I ever failed anything. I remember being humiliated that I only got a 510 on my French SAT II.
Overall, I think it helped me achieve all I could in school. I held myself to a high standard because people looked at me as the "smart kid" and I didn't want to let them, or myself, down. And, well, I've always been shy and I always will be. I'm slightly more assertive now, but only when I need to be. It is what it is.
I do label my kids. T is complicated. He's kind of my "problem child," even though I feel really mean saying that. It's not his fault. He has the speech problems and it affects his behavior. He throws bunches of tantrums every day. He hits and kicks me when he's frustrated. He punched the baby in the kidneys tonight because I told him he had to either wait until my show was over to watch his DVD or go watch it downstairs. He's unpredictable-one second he will be lovey and cuddly, then all of a sudden something sets him off and he's screaming, throwing things, hurting people.
When he is behaving, he is the sweetest kid you'll ever meet. He's always asking questions about everything. He loves posing for the camera. He shares his toys with the other kids. Adults love him because he is adorable and warms up to everyone right away. He cuddles with me at night and, since school has started, he's been sleeping at the foot of my bed with his dragon Happy Napper. I adore him.
Princess is my "drama queen" and "Daddy's little girl". She already has Daddy wrapped around her little finger and can anything she wants from him, usually by throwing a tantrum. I ignore her. I'm sure she thinks I'm mean because I don't cater to her every whim like her dad. She will scream and cry and bang her head on the floor to command total attention from Daddy. Oh, and she's jealous too. She'll throw a tantrum if he pays attention to the other kids or me.
When she's just with me and Daddy's not around, she's a little angel. She is so well behaved. I can take her to the store or to run errands and she is perfect. She's the only one of my children who I can take to a restaurant. It's like she has two totally different personalities depending on who she's with.
The there's Goober. I really don't have a label for him, but I can tell you that I spoil him. He is my little baby and in my eyes, he can do no wrong. I probably spend more time with him than I do with the other kids. I love having him with me, and I hog him. His grandparents really don't spend time with him and he's never spent a night with them like the older kids. In fact, I've only spent one night not sleeping in a bed with him since he was born.
If I could predict it, I think Goober will either become the "spoiled brat" or the "Mama's boy." Both of those labels are okay with me. I love my kids. They are my life. I don't have friends I go out with, I don't have any hobbies. I'm home all day, every day with my babies. I love all the ins and outs of their personalities, even the not so good parts. So I don't mind labeling them. I'm sure their labels with change as they grow up. But one label won't change-I will always label all my kids my "baby," long after they're grown up.
This post was written in response to a prompt from Mama Kat's Writer's Workshop. I chose 5.) What’s your stance on ‘labeling’? Were you labeled as a child? Have you labeled your own children? How do you feel about this?
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Friday, September 2, 2011
Seasons of Change- Surving Post-Partum Depression- Red Writing Hood
There have been many seasons of change in my life-the transition from popular kid to outcast, loner who no one spoke with to college student with eclectic friends, miserable and engaged to single and pregnant, drug addict to sober mother. But today, I'm going to tell you my story of change from post-partum depression sufferer to functioning and loving mother.
It's hard for me to describe how post-partum depression felt. I'm sure those of you who experienced it can relate, but if you haven't, let me just tell you how awful it is. I had no bond with T or Princess when they were born. It was worse with T. I felt nothing. I didn't really want to even hold him- it was like someone handed me an alien and was trying, unsuccessfully, to convince me that it was mine.
I went through all the motions, feeding him and cooing over him, but I knew it wasn't supposed to be like this. And it kept getting worse. After a few weeks, I started to have awful thoughts running through my head. I couldn't handle it when he cried. I would cry and scream at him.
The crazy thoughts got even worse, and one day, I really wanted to throw him out the window. That is the moment I sought help. I felt so horrible that I even thought about hurting my baby. It was awful, and I knew it wasn't really me thinking those thoughts. I went on medication, and things got better. I felt like I finally loved T, and the thoughts went away.
Then I found out I was pregnant with Princess, and I had to stop the medication. I had been such a mess that I didn't even realize I was pregnant until I was showing. I had to have an ultrasound to determine how far along I was (20 weeks-who the heck doesn't realize they're 20 weeks pregnant?). I was hormonal and had my ups and downs, but things seemed pretty much okay until she was born, exactly one year and two days after T. This time, I started medication at the hospital and was evaluated before I left. I thought I was fine, and the psychiatrist agreed. Everything changed when I got home.
I wanted to spend all my time with T. I didn't want to look at or hold Princess. The boyfriend had to quit his job because I couldn't take care of her. We moved in with my parents, and for a good 6 months, they completely supported us. I went back to my part-time job less than 2 weeks after she was born. I couldn't wait to get away from her, but I missed T. It was a strange and awful feeling.
When Princess was a few months old, I started having the same crazy thoughts I had when T was a baby. It was so upsetting. I found a doctor and got my medication changed, and thankfully, it worked. I finally loved both my kids. I found a balance between work and being a mommy, and I enjoyed being with my kids and watching them grow up.
Things were really good until I found out I was pregnant again. Princess was 9 months old. I was excited to be pregnant, but physically, I felt horrible. I went to the doctor and was given the awful news that I was miscarrying. It totally spun me for a loop. I felt like I fell right back to the bottom of the hole I was in right after my kids were born.
My anxiety and panic attacks that I thought I conquered came back with a vengence. It started affecting my job. I felt like nothing was going to get better. Around Christmas, I was having horrible back pain and ended up in the Emergency Room.
I found out I was pregnant again. I was in shock, and in so much pain that I cried for 2 hours straight. I didn't know whether to be happy or sad. When I got an ultrasound, the OB/GYN on call told me that there was a lot of bleeding and an 80% chance I would lose this pregnancy as well. I assumed the worst would happen and moped around my house for a couple weeks. I wasn't functioning at work and kept getting in trouble for forgetting to do things that, after almost 3 years, should have been automatic.
I made it past the 12 week mark. Then I made it past the 16 week mark. My doctors told me at this point that it looked like a normal pregnancy and I was out of the woods. I was so elated at that moment. It was when everything changed, and life was on an upswing.
I couldn't get enough of my kids. I wanted to play with them and go places with them and do as much as I could. I loved the baby that was growing inside of me. Life was finally great. Even our apartment flooding when I was 9 months pregnant couldn't bring me down. I had to temporarily move into my parents with the kids while the boyfriend packed our stuff and tried to clean (I attempted to go back to the apartment one day, and the mold smell assaulted me before I even took 2 steps into the living room. I ran out of that place, and never went back).
Since the landlords I wouldn't even look at the damage, I looked around for a new place, and found a great 4 bedroom house for rent down the street from my parents. The landlord liked me so much that even though he already had someone coming that day to sign the lease, he told me that we could move in. I left my job to get the house ready since the baby was due in a week. Thankfully, Goober was 10 days late, so I had enough time to paint (it was low VOC, and I wore a mask, even though I HATE them) and decorate the upstairs (curtains are decoration, right?).
Since the rent was so high, we split the rent with the boyfriend's mom. She lives downstairs, and we have the upper 2 floors. We share a kitchen downstairs. So far, it has worked out pretty well.
I went into labor with Goober and stayed home until the last possible minute. At the hospital, he came so fast after my water broke that they didn't even have time to prepare the stirrups and get all the equipment ready before he was crowning. I adored him from the second I had him. It was like a mini vacation in the hospital, and he and I were the only 2 guests.
I stayed home with the kids for 6 weeks. Goober was never out of my sight. He will be a year old in 2 weeks and I've only spent one night away from him (there was a bad storm when I was with the other 2 kids in the Catskills, and I am terrified to drive in the rain).
Work didn't work out. I wanted to be home with the baby. I couldn't focus, and my boss' illness was making him more and more volatile. After I forgot one little thing and got chewed out for it, I knew I wasn't going back. I called out the next day (it was a Friday and would have only been a 4 hour workday), and my boss had my coworker call me to fire me. I was mad I got fired, but it was also awesome.
I get to stay home with my kids. I see them all day, every day. I love being with them all the time. Even when the older 2 get on my nerves (I never knew how willful toddlers could be!). I wish I could have enjoyed them as babies like I enjoyed Goober. Part of me feels I'm hogging Goober from his dad and grandparents because I want to make up for the lack of attention I gave the older kids as babies. But now I want to make the most out of every minute with them while they're still little.
Surviving post-partum depression is one of my biggest accomplishments. I transitioned from feeling like a horrible person to being a great mom who, although not perfect, does the best I can for my kids. I love my life and feel like all the pieces are finally falling into place.
This post was written in response to this week's Red Writing Hood prompt from Write on Edge.
This week, with Labor Day and the end of summer rapidly approaching, we asked you to write about a season of change for your character or you. It can be literal or metaphorical.
It's hard for me to describe how post-partum depression felt. I'm sure those of you who experienced it can relate, but if you haven't, let me just tell you how awful it is. I had no bond with T or Princess when they were born. It was worse with T. I felt nothing. I didn't really want to even hold him- it was like someone handed me an alien and was trying, unsuccessfully, to convince me that it was mine.
I went through all the motions, feeding him and cooing over him, but I knew it wasn't supposed to be like this. And it kept getting worse. After a few weeks, I started to have awful thoughts running through my head. I couldn't handle it when he cried. I would cry and scream at him.
The crazy thoughts got even worse, and one day, I really wanted to throw him out the window. That is the moment I sought help. I felt so horrible that I even thought about hurting my baby. It was awful, and I knew it wasn't really me thinking those thoughts. I went on medication, and things got better. I felt like I finally loved T, and the thoughts went away.
Then I found out I was pregnant with Princess, and I had to stop the medication. I had been such a mess that I didn't even realize I was pregnant until I was showing. I had to have an ultrasound to determine how far along I was (20 weeks-who the heck doesn't realize they're 20 weeks pregnant?). I was hormonal and had my ups and downs, but things seemed pretty much okay until she was born, exactly one year and two days after T. This time, I started medication at the hospital and was evaluated before I left. I thought I was fine, and the psychiatrist agreed. Everything changed when I got home.
I wanted to spend all my time with T. I didn't want to look at or hold Princess. The boyfriend had to quit his job because I couldn't take care of her. We moved in with my parents, and for a good 6 months, they completely supported us. I went back to my part-time job less than 2 weeks after she was born. I couldn't wait to get away from her, but I missed T. It was a strange and awful feeling.
When Princess was a few months old, I started having the same crazy thoughts I had when T was a baby. It was so upsetting. I found a doctor and got my medication changed, and thankfully, it worked. I finally loved both my kids. I found a balance between work and being a mommy, and I enjoyed being with my kids and watching them grow up.
Things were really good until I found out I was pregnant again. Princess was 9 months old. I was excited to be pregnant, but physically, I felt horrible. I went to the doctor and was given the awful news that I was miscarrying. It totally spun me for a loop. I felt like I fell right back to the bottom of the hole I was in right after my kids were born.
My anxiety and panic attacks that I thought I conquered came back with a vengence. It started affecting my job. I felt like nothing was going to get better. Around Christmas, I was having horrible back pain and ended up in the Emergency Room.
I found out I was pregnant again. I was in shock, and in so much pain that I cried for 2 hours straight. I didn't know whether to be happy or sad. When I got an ultrasound, the OB/GYN on call told me that there was a lot of bleeding and an 80% chance I would lose this pregnancy as well. I assumed the worst would happen and moped around my house for a couple weeks. I wasn't functioning at work and kept getting in trouble for forgetting to do things that, after almost 3 years, should have been automatic.
I made it past the 12 week mark. Then I made it past the 16 week mark. My doctors told me at this point that it looked like a normal pregnancy and I was out of the woods. I was so elated at that moment. It was when everything changed, and life was on an upswing.
I couldn't get enough of my kids. I wanted to play with them and go places with them and do as much as I could. I loved the baby that was growing inside of me. Life was finally great. Even our apartment flooding when I was 9 months pregnant couldn't bring me down. I had to temporarily move into my parents with the kids while the boyfriend packed our stuff and tried to clean (I attempted to go back to the apartment one day, and the mold smell assaulted me before I even took 2 steps into the living room. I ran out of that place, and never went back).
Since the landlords I wouldn't even look at the damage, I looked around for a new place, and found a great 4 bedroom house for rent down the street from my parents. The landlord liked me so much that even though he already had someone coming that day to sign the lease, he told me that we could move in. I left my job to get the house ready since the baby was due in a week. Thankfully, Goober was 10 days late, so I had enough time to paint (it was low VOC, and I wore a mask, even though I HATE them) and decorate the upstairs (curtains are decoration, right?).
Since the rent was so high, we split the rent with the boyfriend's mom. She lives downstairs, and we have the upper 2 floors. We share a kitchen downstairs. So far, it has worked out pretty well.
I went into labor with Goober and stayed home until the last possible minute. At the hospital, he came so fast after my water broke that they didn't even have time to prepare the stirrups and get all the equipment ready before he was crowning. I adored him from the second I had him. It was like a mini vacation in the hospital, and he and I were the only 2 guests.
I stayed home with the kids for 6 weeks. Goober was never out of my sight. He will be a year old in 2 weeks and I've only spent one night away from him (there was a bad storm when I was with the other 2 kids in the Catskills, and I am terrified to drive in the rain).
Work didn't work out. I wanted to be home with the baby. I couldn't focus, and my boss' illness was making him more and more volatile. After I forgot one little thing and got chewed out for it, I knew I wasn't going back. I called out the next day (it was a Friday and would have only been a 4 hour workday), and my boss had my coworker call me to fire me. I was mad I got fired, but it was also awesome.
I get to stay home with my kids. I see them all day, every day. I love being with them all the time. Even when the older 2 get on my nerves (I never knew how willful toddlers could be!). I wish I could have enjoyed them as babies like I enjoyed Goober. Part of me feels I'm hogging Goober from his dad and grandparents because I want to make up for the lack of attention I gave the older kids as babies. But now I want to make the most out of every minute with them while they're still little.
Surviving post-partum depression is one of my biggest accomplishments. I transitioned from feeling like a horrible person to being a great mom who, although not perfect, does the best I can for my kids. I love my life and feel like all the pieces are finally falling into place.
This post was written in response to this week's Red Writing Hood prompt from Write on Edge.
This week, with Labor Day and the end of summer rapidly approaching, we asked you to write about a season of change for your character or you. It can be literal or metaphorical.
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
Friday, August 26, 2011
Mom Fail- Having a Tantrum
My kids were all having a really bad day. Goober was teething and wouldn't stop crying because he was in pain.
It also didn't help that Princess gave him a piece of her raisin bread, which caused his eczema to
flare up. This meant that every time he rubbed his cheeks, they started bleeding (Goober has reactions like this to all types of fruit, among other things, and his poor cheeks get raw). It is impossible to stop an 11 month-old from touching his face. I know; I tried.
Princess needed a nap but refused to go to her room until Daddy came home. The littlest things were setting her off. Goober was close to her (even though he wasn't even touching her or poking her or anything). She wanted another episode of Spongebob, but it was T's turn to pick a show and he wanted Wow Wow Wubbzy. Every few minutes, she threw herself on the floor, kicking and screaming and bashing her head.
T wouldn't respect anyone's personal space. He was poking Princess, pushing Goober, and sticking his feet in my face. I have a thing with feet. I hate them. They gross me out. No one is allowed to touch my feet (goodbye, pedicures), and I don't like feet in my face. Even if they're clean. I have a lot of anxiety with feet.
I cajoled and bribed and threatened, but they wouldn't stop. I don't blame Goober for any of this. He legitimately had a right to be crying, but it was just adding to everything else in a bad way. I couldn't take it anymore.
I snapped. I was screaming at the top of my lungs. I don't even think real words were coming out of my mouth. I grabbed a pillow and repeatedly his the wall with it. I stomped my feet. I threw a temper tantrum.
The kids were shocked. Goober looked horrified as he chewed the comforter. Princess stopped and stared at me. T came over and put his finger to his lips and tried to shush me. My 3 1/2 year-old was being more of an adult than I was.
I calmed down. I sat on the bed. I apologized to my kids. T and Princess calmly went into their room, shut the door, and took naps. I gave Goober some Tylenol and a bottle, and he went to sleep. Finally I had peace and quiet.
This post was inspired by a prompt from Mama Kat's Writer's Workshop. I chose a mom fail moment.
It also didn't help that Princess gave him a piece of her raisin bread, which caused his eczema to
flare up. This meant that every time he rubbed his cheeks, they started bleeding (Goober has reactions like this to all types of fruit, among other things, and his poor cheeks get raw). It is impossible to stop an 11 month-old from touching his face. I know; I tried.
Princess needed a nap but refused to go to her room until Daddy came home. The littlest things were setting her off. Goober was close to her (even though he wasn't even touching her or poking her or anything). She wanted another episode of Spongebob, but it was T's turn to pick a show and he wanted Wow Wow Wubbzy. Every few minutes, she threw herself on the floor, kicking and screaming and bashing her head.
T wouldn't respect anyone's personal space. He was poking Princess, pushing Goober, and sticking his feet in my face. I have a thing with feet. I hate them. They gross me out. No one is allowed to touch my feet (goodbye, pedicures), and I don't like feet in my face. Even if they're clean. I have a lot of anxiety with feet.
I cajoled and bribed and threatened, but they wouldn't stop. I don't blame Goober for any of this. He legitimately had a right to be crying, but it was just adding to everything else in a bad way. I couldn't take it anymore.
I snapped. I was screaming at the top of my lungs. I don't even think real words were coming out of my mouth. I grabbed a pillow and repeatedly his the wall with it. I stomped my feet. I threw a temper tantrum.
The kids were shocked. Goober looked horrified as he chewed the comforter. Princess stopped and stared at me. T came over and put his finger to his lips and tried to shush me. My 3 1/2 year-old was being more of an adult than I was.
I calmed down. I sat on the bed. I apologized to my kids. T and Princess calmly went into their room, shut the door, and took naps. I gave Goober some Tylenol and a bottle, and he went to sleep. Finally I had peace and quiet.
This post was inspired by a prompt from Mama Kat's Writer's Workshop. I chose a mom fail moment.
Thursday, August 25, 2011
Go Go Power Rangers!
My kids love Power Rangers. I don't get the appeal. The new Power Rangers (Samurai) is just as cheesy as the Mighty Morphin Power Rangers that was on TV when I was in elementary school. In fact, I think Megazord may actually be the same.
I know you're all going to think I'm nuts when I tell you that I actually watch all the episodes. I think they're ridiculous, but I can't look away. This is the reason I can tell you that Pink Ranger Mia is a bad cook, Green Ranger Mike has some issues with immaturity, and Decker is hot. Really, really hot.
However, the drawback of watching Power Rangers all day, every day, is that T thinks he is one. He is convinced he is a ninja Power Ranger. He is the blue one, or as he would say, "Go Go Ah Ah Boo!" (this is how it sounds when he says 'go go power rangers blue!'). And he does this while pumping his fist in the air. I, of course, am the Pink Ranger.
T has a bad habit of sneaking up and doing ninja moves on everyone, even poor Goober. I walked into my room the other day after leaving for 30 seconds to feed my dumber-than-a-brick cat Misty. I saw T on his back with Goober in a headlock on top of him. The baby's eyes were as big as saucers. He was terrified. I saved him from T's grasp.
"Yah!" yelled T, karate chopping me in the neck. I was still holding Goober, who started to cry. So I attempted to get T to calm down. He proceeded to scream and kick me for real. I had to run away.
The other big problem with Power Rangers is the swords. Apparently, the boyfriend's mom never got the memo that toddlers and swords, even plastic ones, do not go together. They were an Easter gift, and a big hit (literally).
Princess and T play with the swords all the time, making appropriate Power Ranger/ninja/karate noises to go along with it. They are not gentle either. One sword is know held together with packing tape, and on more than one occasion, Princess has gotten hurt.
There have been other casualties too. Like a full mug of coffee that ended up all over the carpet. And the broken plate. And a chink out of the wood dresser (how does a plastic sword even do that?).
The worst was when T decided I was a Nyloc (the bad guys in Power Rangers Samurai) when I was sitting in bed on my laptop one day. Usually I will play along and pretend to fall over while screaming "noooooooooo" in slow motion. But he hit me hard in my side. I screamed for real and doubled over. He kicked me in the back. I know he was playing, but he kicked me hard.
My lower back is my Achilles heel. I am thorougly convinced it is from the anesthesiologist messed up my epidural twice when I was in labor with T (which is why I decided to birth Princess and Goober with no drugs). Now I have chronic pain that nothing can fix. I've tried physical therapy, trigger point injections, cortisone injections, painkillers, etc. Over the past 3 1/2 years, unbearable back pain has landed me in the ER over 20 times.
After the kick, I couldn't move. I felt like I couldn't breathe. I'm not sure how much time passed before my sobbing woke up the boyfriend in the other room and he came to help me. I couldn't get myself out of the fetal position without his help. I spent the next week in bed. I know he didn't mean to hurt me, but I was pretty annoyed with T for a few days.
So now I'm seriously considering karate lessons for T. I swear he already knows how to do some actual punches (from what I can remember of my short karate career in college). He will definitely love it. And I think it will be good for him. Then he can be a Power Ranger for real.
I know you're all going to think I'm nuts when I tell you that I actually watch all the episodes. I think they're ridiculous, but I can't look away. This is the reason I can tell you that Pink Ranger Mia is a bad cook, Green Ranger Mike has some issues with immaturity, and Decker is hot. Really, really hot.
 |
| Decker, played by Rick Medina |
However, the drawback of watching Power Rangers all day, every day, is that T thinks he is one. He is convinced he is a ninja Power Ranger. He is the blue one, or as he would say, "Go Go Ah Ah Boo!" (this is how it sounds when he says 'go go power rangers blue!'). And he does this while pumping his fist in the air. I, of course, am the Pink Ranger.
T has a bad habit of sneaking up and doing ninja moves on everyone, even poor Goober. I walked into my room the other day after leaving for 30 seconds to feed my dumber-than-a-brick cat Misty. I saw T on his back with Goober in a headlock on top of him. The baby's eyes were as big as saucers. He was terrified. I saved him from T's grasp.
"Yah!" yelled T, karate chopping me in the neck. I was still holding Goober, who started to cry. So I attempted to get T to calm down. He proceeded to scream and kick me for real. I had to run away.
 |
| This is the Power Ranger fist pump |
The other big problem with Power Rangers is the swords. Apparently, the boyfriend's mom never got the memo that toddlers and swords, even plastic ones, do not go together. They were an Easter gift, and a big hit (literally).
 |
| The kids, mid-fight |
Princess and T play with the swords all the time, making appropriate Power Ranger/ninja/karate noises to go along with it. They are not gentle either. One sword is know held together with packing tape, and on more than one occasion, Princess has gotten hurt.
 |
| I don't remember if this was a scream of joy or pain. |
There have been other casualties too. Like a full mug of coffee that ended up all over the carpet. And the broken plate. And a chink out of the wood dresser (how does a plastic sword even do that?).
The worst was when T decided I was a Nyloc (the bad guys in Power Rangers Samurai) when I was sitting in bed on my laptop one day. Usually I will play along and pretend to fall over while screaming "noooooooooo" in slow motion. But he hit me hard in my side. I screamed for real and doubled over. He kicked me in the back. I know he was playing, but he kicked me hard.
My lower back is my Achilles heel. I am thorougly convinced it is from the anesthesiologist messed up my epidural twice when I was in labor with T (which is why I decided to birth Princess and Goober with no drugs). Now I have chronic pain that nothing can fix. I've tried physical therapy, trigger point injections, cortisone injections, painkillers, etc. Over the past 3 1/2 years, unbearable back pain has landed me in the ER over 20 times.
After the kick, I couldn't move. I felt like I couldn't breathe. I'm not sure how much time passed before my sobbing woke up the boyfriend in the other room and he came to help me. I couldn't get myself out of the fetal position without his help. I spent the next week in bed. I know he didn't mean to hurt me, but I was pretty annoyed with T for a few days.
So now I'm seriously considering karate lessons for T. I swear he already knows how to do some actual punches (from what I can remember of my short karate career in college). He will definitely love it. And I think it will be good for him. Then he can be a Power Ranger for real.
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
Wordless Wednesday-Fair Day Bliss
These were all taken yesterday at the Dutchess County Fair in Rhinebeck, NY.
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