Tuesday, September 29, 2009

Too bad, so sad, buh-bye nads

Just got back from the ped's office with Baby R. Yes, again. I noticed over the weekend that his big toe was red and looked as though it was maybe infected. Sure enough, it is. My newborn has ingrown toenails. On both big toes. Seriously. He's on an antibiotic for 10 days to clear that up and I'm also supposed to put his feet in warm water and push his nails back right after. So now I'm not only doing poo removal duty 4 times a day, I also have to soak his piggies 2-4 times a day. I feel so bad for the little guy. He's going to grow into the scrawny asthmatic kid with glasses, braces, and a rescue inhaler. I swear if I could find the time to go crazy, I'd pencil it in.

It is for this reason that I am very glad I took the initiative yesterday to call and schedule DH a consult with a urologist for a vasectomy. He kept telling me he was going to do it, but time's a-ticking and I haven't seen any inclination from him that he was actually go to do so so I took matters into my own hands. I think he was just being a big chicken. I sent him the news via text message after getting off the phone with the doctor's office. He goes in a few weeks for the consult and then will probably get the procedure done in November or December. I guess it'll either be something to be grateful for on Thanksgiving or a great Christmas gift. Either way, snippity snip snip!

Monday, September 28, 2009

Is that your stomach or a braile book?

After I had R, I was pretty excited about the fact that I hardly had any stretch marks at all. What little I did have were almost unnoticable after a few months. I figured Baby R would be the same. Sadly, this is sooo not the case. I was getting dressed yesterday afternoon and caught a glimpse of my belly in our full-length mirror. What.the.hell. My stomach looks like a frickin' topographical map. If you look really close, I swear you can see the Rocky Mountains. I only gained 10 lbs the entire pregnancy so I find this extremely unfair. You'd think -- or at least I did -- that since I was only un-pregnant for 10 months, my stomach wouldn't have regained it elasticity anyways so I shouldn't have gotten any stretch marks, let alone enough to make it feel like the braile menu at McDonald's. Right?? Right.

Not that it really matters too much, I just felt like complaining about it. I'm not off flashing my stomach around to people - I wouldn't want to expose anyone else to the horror - and if DH doesn't like it, well then, good. Maybe it means I won't have to put out.

Thursday, September 24, 2009

Mommy drinks because I cry

Ever see those onesies with that splashed across the front? Always used to think they were so trashy, but now I can identify. If I had time to drink, I would definitely be hittin' up the bottle. Hard.

Okay, I have seriously been trying to write this blog (or at a least a variation of it) for days now. I feel like I'm on a one-way trip to Crazy. Behind the wheel is my newborn. Baby R - who turned one month yesterday, can you believe it?? - is the neediest little shite I have ever met. Besides the fact that he's a baby, he's so damn cute I can't be mad at him, but good Lord. Waaay different from his sister. I literally can't put him down and he still won't sleep unless he's held. My back is jacked up as all hell from "sleeping" (again I put that in quotes because I'm not sure what I get qualifies) with him on the couch in my arms. The day he turns 18 I think I'll just stick a chiropractic bill in his birthday card. Happy Birthday! You owe your decrepit mother money.

Tuesday he had his 4 week checkup. That was an experience. The night before he had screamed his little head for 4.5 hours. Yes. Hours. If my friend hadn't been here with me (DH had class), I may have just curled up into the fetal position and cried right along with him. But I digress. Back to the appointment. Little squirt weighs 8 lbs, 9 oz now and is 21.25 inches long. Doing well in that aspect. I mentioned to his pediatrican the fact that he was grunts all the time and always seems to have poo issues. One rectal exam later - poor, poor Baby R - and he was diagnosed with anal spasms.... I'll just let that digest for a minute ..... Yeah, my first thought was WTF too. If somebody's kid was going to have shit problems, of course it had to one of mine. I feel so bad for the little guy though. Apparently instead of baring down when he has to go, he clinches his little butt. Then, as if the rectal exam wasn't bad enough, they had a pediatric surgeon's nurse come to the room to instruct me in how to use this contraption called a dilator. It's this teeny tiny instrument that we - or really I because DH will have no part in the "butt plug" as he refers to it - have to lube up and put in his rear 3 times a day to help train his body to poop. It's about as pleasant as it sounds, trust me. If it'll help him out though, so be it. Gotta love his doctor though. She made sure to tell me to inform DH that using the dilator "won't mean Baby R will like things in his butt later in life". I about peed my leg at that one. She also said we may have to continue doing it for a few weeks or a few months. I'm hoping for the few weeks. Last night he was up from 2:00-2:30 grunting and crying so there I am, tired as can be, trying to assist him with his bowel issues. Nothing like a 3am poop extraction. That's a mother's love. *sigh* All I can do is laugh it off.

And just in case that didn't make the trip to the ped's office exciting enough, my dear toddler decided to act like the spawn of Satan and throw a fit the entire effing time we were in the exam room. She was not a happy camper that the baby was getting all the attention. When it became apparent that everyone was not focused on her, she decided she was done with the whole thing. She kept telling me "Go bye bye" and then trying to open the door. When I'd tell her no, she'd oh-so-nicely fling herself to the ground and start shrieking. The doctor told me to just ignore her, that she saw it a lot in kids that were new to the whole sibling thing. Easier said than done. I'm trying to listen to the directions on how to use the dilator -- definitely something I want to pay close attention to for the poor baby's sake -- and R picks up a Little Tykes chair and throws it. Like something out of the damn WWF, I swear. I was never so ready to leave that doctor's office. See why I could use a drink or twelve???

Thursday, September 10, 2009

Well I think I am coming to terms with the whole family-of-four thing finally. Starting to get into a groove and a routine. Or at least as much of a routine as is possible with a newborn. I can't believe Baby R is already 2 and a half weeks old! Time flies when you don't sleep I guess. R has really taken to her big sister role, although it's mostly to shush everyone when they walk in the room, regardless of whether baby is sleeping or not, and to try to shove a pacifier in his mouth, regardless of whether he wants it. When he cries she'll attempt to stuff his bottle into his mouth too, although I'm not sure if it's because she is trying to help him or make him shut up. Sometimes she gets it in there and other times he winds up with milk on his forehead or up his nose, but it's the thought that counts.

I'm happy to report there has been no more poop where it shouldn't be (i.e safely in diapers), but I did step in cat puke this morning and the little girl I babysit peed on my living room carpet (occupational hazard. haha) so I guess I just can't win.

Right now everyone is napping. Except me of course. I know if I shut my eyes, I wouldn't want to wake up for days. My only major complaint with Baby R is the fact that he will only sleep if he he is held or snuggled. I have been "sleeping" (if you can even call it that) on the couch, sitting up with him in my arms. Thank God for the Boppy or I'd lose feeling in my arms and probably never regain it. My back is killing me, but at least I am getting something that resembles snoozing every few hours. I am keeping my fingers (and toes and anything else that crosses) crossed that he gets into a better sleep pattern soon and will sleep in his bassinet for longer than 20 minutes with screaming like a stuck pig.

I hear R stirring from her nap so I better go. My brief reprieve from Noggin is over. Time for some more Dora the Explorer.

Friday, September 4, 2009

Adventures in babyland

A 24-hour milk bar: That's what I feel like, an all night freaking diner. My little man never wants to breastfeed unless it's the middle of the night. I don't get it. During daylight hours he rarely will latch on so I have to pump or supplement with formula, but as soon as the sun goes down... whoa buddy. I might as well put blinking neon lights on both nipples. I guess Baby R just likes his boobies at night - I wonder what the likelyhood will be that he will frequent strip clubs when he's older?

And now for a poop story (or two) since it's been a while since I last grossed other people out with one. I bought R some Sesame Street bubble bath last week and she thinks it's the greatest thing ever. Can't say I blame her. Bubble baths are pretty fabulous. But I digress. Last night during her bath, I took the opportunity to let her play for a few minutes after she was washed while I changed out my nursing pads and whatnot. She passed some gas and then some more and then informed me, "poop poop". I looked and didn't see anything so I told her that no, she'd just tooted. I grabbed her towel to get her out and again she tells me "poop poop". I turn around and out comes her little hand from admist the bubbles and she definitely has a fistful of poo in it. Uuuuuuugggggh. I got it and her all cleaned up and sanitized the hell out of our tub, but still. Lesson learned. She told me she was going and I didn't believe her.

As if that wasn't, um, crappy enough (har har), I took Baby R to bed with me last night (he won't sleep unless he's held... *sigh*) and after he'd gone to sleep, put him in his Boppy. I'd just started to drift off into the nice deep sleep where I'm drooling on my pillow when he wakes up and starts fussing. I could hear and smell him farting, but I wasn't too concerned because my newborn has some of the rankest gas I have ever had the displeasure of being downwind of in my entire life. When he was done with this grunting and pffft'ing, I went to pick him up.... and stuck my hand in a big wet pile of runny shit. Seriously. Could I not get a break???? I yelled for DH who was luckily still up watching TV and he came in the room to help minimize the damage. It was all over our sheets, Baby R's Boppy, his pajamas, him, me. It was effing disgusting to say the least. I wound up having to give him a bath at 1am. The joys of parenthood never end, I swear.

So today's goal is not having to clean up any poo where it's not supposed to be. So far so good. Let's hope the trend continutes.....