Inside My Mommy Brain!

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Why Thanksgiving is Important to Me.

I thought I’d write about shopping, working retail on Thanksgiving and Black Friday, any of these things and then I knew, I felt I needed to tell my Thanksgiving  story.

Thanksgiving is a special time for me.

This Thanksgiving marks my fourth anniversary of deciding that it wasn’t too late to live happily ever after. It wasn’t too late to stop living in fear, it wasn’t too late to start living the rest of my life. I’m happy now, I’m safe, I’m loved, I’m one of the lucky ones, and I have the greatest gift of all, my daughter. Thanksgiving 2009 was the first time in years, that I had felt safe and happy.

Four years ago, a week before Thanksgiving, I made a huge life decision. I decided to end a toxic marriage and be happy. I moved with my best friend; he ended up becoming the love of my life. He deserves an award for being my friend the year that followed. I was lucky, I had someone willing to help me find a safe place. I bring this up because, when I told my ex I was leaving, I called my best friend from college and my family. At first, they were willing to help me move and pack. Then my ex called them and wove this incredible story of bull shit: I’d been on anti-depressants, I wasn’t myself. I wasn’t really going to leave him. The worst part? I had woven such a great tale of perfection and happiness through the years, they believed him. Only one person and the people I worked with helped me get out of my house. Now the friend and family know the truth, see that I’m happy, and still apologize they didn’t believe me.

There had been a lot of things that had happened that caused me to decide to leave. My ex-husband cheated several times, was mentally abusive, extremely angry, tried to force me to have sexual relationships with other men and women, physically abusive to my dog and I lived in fear that I would be next. After almost ten years in the relationship (4 living together, 5 married), I couldn’t take it any more. I refused to pretend through another holiday season that I was happily married and everything was just peachy. I was miserable, I was afraid, on anti-depressants, and just was in a very, very dark place. Even now, I still fear seeing him or having to deal with him at all. I mentally know that he can’t hurt me anymore, however, I still haven’t been able to completely overcome that many years of abuse. To this day, he stills sees that he did nothing wrong, that it was all in my head. At least that’s what a mutual friend tells me.

I can’t bring myself to give exact details on most that happened. I’ve relived them more times than I want. What I will tell you is the last thing that happened that made me know that I had made the right decision to leave. The week I left, I had to go back to the house alone. He was there. He wasn’t supposed to be. He had been cordial and making small talk..Until I got to the door to leave. That’s when he shoved me into a wall, hard enough to make a dent in it, asking me why he should let me leave, that I was his wife, I had to stay, I had made vows..I Was His. I just remember telling him I had to go, to let me go. He finally did. That was the last time I saw him alone. I saw him once more, in public to get a personal item, he was begging me to not leave. I have only seen him once, at a distance since then and if all goes well. I will never see him again.

There are no doubts in my mind, if I had stayed longer, the relationship would have turned physically violent or I would have died.

Ladies or gents, if you are in a relationship that makes you fear for your safety, you need help. Don’t be afraid to ask. It took me getting out of my relationship to see the signs of domestic abuse and violence. I was saw caught up in thinking I had done something wrong to deserve what was happening to me. Don’t let it happen to you anymore. There are safe places, people trained to help you. Abuse isn’t always physical. There are local places to seek help as well as many internet sites. Your local health department is a great place to start. These places can help you. I wish I had found them sooner and been willing to ask for help.

The National Domestic Violence Hotline http://www.thehotline.org/ 

National Coalition Against Domestic Violence http://www.ncadv.org/

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Bittersweet Birthday

I have a birthday coming up soon.  My next couple of birthdays are bittersweet.  I’ve been swinging from one emotional extreme to another.  Happiness, I’ve made it another year; fear, I’m two years away from the age my mom was when she died.  My mom passed away when she was 38 years old.  She was two weeks from her 39th birthday.  Cancer is a evil, miserable bastard. She had me young; she was only 15 when I was born. I didn’t think I’d ever get to this age. I was 23 when she passed and at the time, 38 seemed like it was an eternity away.

I think I’ve been really thinking about her a lot lately. I turn 36 near the end of this week and my birthday is bringing one of my biggest fears front and center; not living to see my daughter grow up. Thirty-six is the magic number because even though Mom wasn’t diagnosed until a few months before she died, thinking back this was when I first noticed her coughing more, not being herself.  The first diagnosis was lung cancer. Then, she started having headaches and seizures.  Her doctors ordered a brain scan, as well as a full body scan.  After the scans, the her oncologist came in to tell us the diagnosis. Let me tell you, when your oncologist chokes up and starts to tear up, you know you’re screwed.  I’ll never forget the day. He tried to tell us what he saw and then he put her brain scan up.  I didn’t need the doctor to tell me what I was seeing.  Her brain scan showed more than 20 “dots”, different sizes.  Some were the size of pin heads, others were an inch or bigger. All were cancerous tumors. Not only did she have the brain tumors, the cancer had spread to her lymph nodes and there were tumors throughout many of her other organs. That was the day he told her to go home, enjoy her family, and make any amends she felt she needed to do. There were no treatments he could recommend. He told us continuing radiation or chemotherapy would kill her faster. That was absolutely, the worst day of my life.  That was the day that all hope vanished.

I don’t want my daughter to know that feeling until I’m at a ripe old age. I know there are lots of people to love her and take care of her, but if I follow the same timeline and die young, I would leave my sweet girl motherless at a very young age. I know how much that blows.  I might have been 23 when my mom died, but holy shit, did it suck. A part of me died the day she did.  It took me years to finally come to terms with her death and start living fully again. I’ll always be sad she never got to see me graduate from college, she was my biggest supporter.  She wasn’t there when I got married and she’ll never meet her grand daughter.  I’m pretty spiritual, maybe not necessarily religious, but I think there’s an afterlife and I believe she’s seen her from the great beyond or whatever you want to call it.  Just what I would have given to see how much she would have loved being a grandmother or just for one more phone call.

It’s hard to explain to people that want to throw me a party, that want to celebrate with their friend, that as much as I appreciate what they want to do for me, I’d rather be home having a quiet evening with my daughter and other half.  I like to internalize emotions and not bother those close to me.  I, also, find it hard to talk about what’s going on, what I’m feeling, why these birthdays are hard for me. I don’t like to break down or show sadness.  There’s a small group of people that I let see that part of me, but not many. I know to some I’m probably coming across like a bitter anti-social bitch. I’m not really.

Having a party might be therapeutic, who knows? I know I can’t run from life and let my fear rule my every day; that I should celebrate to make memories for myself, my family, and my wee one, just in case.  I just don’t know if I can be happy and celebrate, it’s hard to be the life of the party when you are literally scared to death and the birthday just brings it a lot closer. I know that I’m healthy, I don’t have any problems right now. I see my doctor regularly and because of my family history I’m closely monitored for several different things.  I guess I wouldn’t be me or human if I didn’t think about the possibility or worry.  For right now though, for today, I’m going to enjoy my daughter. In a few weeks go see some of my family, and introduce my girl to one of her great-grandmothers.  Who can’t help but smile over that.

I know as bittersweet as these next birthdays are, I’m going to do my best to live each day to the fullest, play with my daughter, teach her what I can, keep on living my life day by day.  In the end, its’s all we can do, face our fears and keep on living.  Besides, I know my Mom, she’d ask me what the hell I was doing sitting around moping when there’s a whole world waiting for me and the little one to explore.

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Toddlers and Tips for Road Trips

I have read horror stories about people taking road trips with toddlers. Non stop screaming, fussy, just angry, toys being flung about and I realize how blessed I am to have an almost 2 year old that loves going on long trips.

Like any child she has her moments; she wants to go for a walk, get out of the car, or is hungry and mommy doesn’t have a place that looks trustworthy to stop.

I think I’m lucky because we’ve traveled a lot by car from the time the small one was about 6 weeks old. We tucked her in the car and went to my dad’s for Christmas.  She slept most of the way, woke up to occasionally to eat and went back to sleep.  I can say I do not recommend pumping breast milk, even if you are the passenger and even if your breast pump uses batteries or has an outlet for the car, in the car, doing 70ish + mph on the interstate. Even using a cover up people are kinda nosy.

Then, every few weeks/months we’d take another trip.  We’ve driven from North Carolina to South Carolina, Virginia, around North Carolina, to New York, Then the small one and I have made several trips from New York to Virginia and Kentucky alone.  It’s actually really nice and fun for us.  She’s used to the long car trips and we plan our stops and our route so we can do some fun things, walk around, and have an adventure or two along the way.

Here are my tips to taking a road trip with your small, even if you’re a breastfeeding mom alone:

BEFORE THE TRIP:

  • Know your route –  before you go, use an atlas, GPS, or a site like Mapquest or Google Maps to map out where you are going and look for traffic delays. If you have AAA, they offer free maps and Trip Tiks.
  • Try to plan your stops – If you know your route and you know your kids “timeline” eating, pooping, fussy, then you can loosely plan pit stops along the way.  If you are traveling by interstate, most have websites that list their rest areas and if they are patrolled by state troopers.
  • Have Healthy Car Snacks – I love the GoGo Squeez applesauce pouches for this. If we stop for a quick snack, these little pouches are quick, fairly non-messy, and the pouches are recyclable. They also do not require refrigeration.
  • Organize your car – Keep those things you’ll need to get to quickly and easily, within reach.  Use a organizer to keep diapers, wipes, snack, toys, a change of clothes, bottles, milk, bottled water, mommy/daddy snacks quickly, easily, and safely accessible.   Use a trunk organizer. If you don’t need it, put it in the trunk.  If there’s an accident, the more stuff you have in the front of your car, the more potential harm you can cause.  I try to keep only soft toys and stuffed animals to play with.
  • MAKE LISTS – Make a list of all the things you need for yourself and your toddler on a daily basis; take into account if where you are going has stores and the items available.  I know many people are going, say what? Of course there are stores, not always.  I travel to some rural places with my tiny tot and you’d be surprised at what may not be available. Seriously, make the list. The first time I tried this I made the list and still left the “pre-squeezed” breast milk and the emergency supply of formula at home.  A list also let’s you evaluate what’s a need versus a want.  When you travel by car, your space is limited.  I tend to over pack for everything; I am a woman.  However, I quickly realized the stroller and the baby backpack (greatest invention ever by the way) really both didn’t need to go.
  • Charge all the electronics the night before the trip – make sure all your electronics, GPS, Cell Phone, Tablet, Camera, MP3 player (I know, I know, I’m going old school, but my 7-year-old Sansa e260 has a lot longer battery life than hooking my phone to the car) etc, is charged before you actually get in the car. Unless you have a new super car then your outlets are going to be limited.
  • Paperwork – Do you have your driver’s license?  Do you have your insurance information in the car? Do you have your medical insurance cards? The other thing here, if you are a someone who may be taking children that are not your out of the state with the parent’s permission of course, you may need something in writing from the parent’s allowing you to authorize medical care if something happens to the kid(s).  I know my aunts and uncles if they were taking any of their nieces and nephews for more than a couple of days and were a decent distance away from the family, they would have our mom write out permission.  I don’t know what the current laws are; I haven’t researched them in several years.

AT THE START OF AND DURING THE TRIP:

  •  Keep the things you need close by – I know this seems like the same thing as organize your car but I promise it’s a little different.  Especially, if you are traveling as the lone adult there are somethings you need to keep handy. Toys, the soft ones, keep them close, I put them in the front seat organizer, one pouch of toddler snacks, some granola for me, and a bottle of water.  I found the Small one  likes to change out toys, so when we start the trip with all the toys, allowed in the car, up front with mommy, then they are handed one at a time carefully back to her as she gets bored with them.  Generally, by the time we stop, she’s went through the supply, I re-organize and re-load the the front seat organizer, rinse and repeat. Organize the front area before leaving the parking lot.
  • Cell Phones – Cell phone safety, you have your child in the car with you, you do not need to text or talk while driving. My Droid has something called Smart Actions, that let’s me set the phone to automatically answer text messages with a standard, “I’m currently driving, I will return your text when I am able to safely do so”  it stops the phone alerts as well so there are no distractions.
  • Make frequent stops – your legs and your toddler will thank you.
  • Be prepared to stop for the night –  Sometimes the small ones just can’t take the car trip, they need to get out, or they just need to rest.  Keep the possibility of stopping for the night an option.
  • Enjoy the trip –  many times we get so caught up in “Did we pack everything?, Are we making decent time?, Are we…blah blah blah.  Who cares? You’re on a long road trip with the greatest little person in your life.  Use it to make some memories.

Again, I’m not safety or travel expert, just a mommy who loves road trips and these are just a few tips I use to make my life easier.  The small one and I have put more than 7,000 miles on the car together and most of it has been great!

 

Links to some of the websites I use to plan and order travel supplies:

https://maps.google.com/

http://www.aaa.com

http://www.mapquest.com

http://www.randmcnally.com/

http://www.interstate-guide.com/

http://www.amazon.com, search for Car Organizers

http://www.diapers.com, use code MXNI015347 to save 20% on your first order, great car organizers as well!

https://www.google.com/shopping/product/4565958416731128468?q=baby+carrier&sqi=2&sa=X&ei=gZZTUqjKAZOr4APY04GYDg&ved=0CHQQ5Q0wAA – this is the link to the backpack, I’ve used it since she was old enough to sit up on her own and still do.

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Cleaning House or Going Out to Play

The sun is out, the small fry seems to be in a decent mood this morning. I’m having a cup of pumpkin spice coffee.  The man and I have all day home together (I’m not really sure how that happened, but I’m not going to question it).  Now, for the dilemma. I’ve had a migraine for two days and this place is wrecked with a capital “W”.  So, do I spend the day cleaning the place with the man’s help and hope after that we feel like going to the farm market and taking a hayride, going to pick a pumpkin, or going apple picking or just say to hell with it, go out enjoy the day and I can clean tomorrow when he’s at work?

Then I wonder why am I even concerned? Until I had the Smidge, cleaning was something that happened once a week, except the kitchen. The kitchen always needed to be neat clean and ready to cook in.  The rest of the place, meh, who cared.  I worked to much to have company and it really didn’t matter. I think my not caring can be blamed on the fact my mom was a complete neat freak. It was part of my rebellion. She is the only woman I have ever known that was ever able to keep a white carpet, white. Especially with two young kids who played outside constantly and a coal miner coming home with coal dust everywhere.  To this day I swear she had magical powers of clean.

Now, for me, it’s a different story.  I don’t know if the cleaning bug happened when I had the baby. Did the pregnancy hormones rewire my brain into an almost OCD like, must have it all picked up by the end of the day, THERE CAN BE NO DIRT, nutcase. Seriously, I can vacuum two times a day and still feel like the carpet needs it again. What the hell is wrong with me? Having a clean house is wonderful, I feel better when I don’t feel like the tiny person clutter isn’t going to attack me when I walk by, I like the kitchen clean and the laundry clean (I have given up on being able to fold it) but, really does it need to be spotless everyday. Why am I even concerned today?  I have a rare opportunity for us to go out and be a family, make some memories, and here I am blogging about cleaning the house.

Well, I guess I have my answer. I’m going to finish my coffee, say good bye to my lovely readers, pick the house up enough that I don’t feel like its a danger to me or the family, and go out and enjoy the sunshine. Because in the end, the house will be dirty tomorrow but a day with the whole family and fall sunshine in upstate NY is too rare of an event to even care.

Happy Fall Days to All!!

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Dear Coffee Pot, I hope you know there are days you make my mornings bearable.

I never really drank coffee on a daily basis until I had my first child. I’d have a cup every now and then, on special occasions or when i had to be at work at 6 am after working til 11 pm.

Now though, Coffee is my lifeline. That shot of caffeine first thing in the morning helps save some of my sanity.  Especially on days like today. At 6:00, I hear, “Momma, Momma, Momma, MOMMA!”

She usually doesn’t rise til about 8 and Momma was up til 1 am studying.  Need just 20 more minutes of sleep…please…no. The daddy goes and gets the small wonder and we tuck her in with us.  Please Lord let it go back to sleep, even for 15 minutes.  No such luck.  She’s awake and ready to play. I tried the cartoon alarm clock, nope, not today.  Even Elmo can’t keep the little sucker amused. I’m laying on the couch just watching her play at this point, I’m kind enough to let daddy sleep in this morning, his day off.  Then as I’m about to doze off.  She brings my empty coffee cup to me.  I left it a little to close to the edge of the kitchen counter.

“Momma, eat”, “milk, eat”, “EAT EAT EAT”

You know its going to be a long day when the toddler brings your coffee cup to you before she demands her breakfast.

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I love staying home with my daughter

I’ve been thinking about stay at home moms and dads  a lot the last few days.  I’ve had a few people be rude and snarky to me because I stay home with my daughter and only work part-time.

Why do I stay home with my daughter and why is it anyone else’s business?  The short answer is because it’s the right thing to do for my family and for my daughter. My daughter and my other half are the center of my world. My daughter was a very pleasant surprise when I had reached a point where being a mom was not a reality. I love that little person more than I can describe. I have only one, she will be young once, if I miss any of the firsts, I will never get them back. I know my decision is not the best for everyone.

What I don’t understand is why a mom or dad staying home with their small child seems to be such a foreign concept to people.  I’m amazed by the derision from some women, “Oh, you stay home? Must be nice to do nothing all day…” Then, there’s the “Must be nice to be able to afford to stay home.” Then, I get snide comments from a grandparent basically telling me, it’s my “job” to work outside the home full-time and let her watch my daughter; that she worked full-time while her kids were growing up, they turned out fine.

To those that think I do nothing all day, are you nuts?  I’ve worked a full-time job, then picked another part-time job in my spare time.  I will tell you, I work harder chasing this small energetic heathen around and attempting to keep my house clean, food on the table, laundry clean and folded, than I ever did working 60+ hours a week for a company.  I also work part-time on the man’s days off and I’m a student.  Believe me the only moment of nothing I have is getting a 2-second drink of coffee.

To those snarky, “affordable” comments. When we calculated the costs of daycare versus what we were making, it didn’t make financial sense for both of us to work full-time and give a daycare provider, what would essentially be half of our paychecks.  When we made the decision for one of us to stay home, we knew we would be living lean. We have a place to live, we have food on the table, we pay our bills, we take care of our daughter’s needs, and there are very few luxuries. It’s affordable because we were and are willing to make material sacrifices to have one of us home with our daughter all the time.

To the grandparent, I understand that you want to watch the small one and enjoy being a grandparent.  However, this is my daughter. I understand you made choices that you had to to take care of your family, you missed a lot of the “firsts” and time with your children. I’m sorry for this; it still does not give you any special entitlements to my daughter. We will let you see her when we can, just like we do with all of her other grandparents.

Am I looking forward to getting back to work full-time and bringing home a bigger paycheck, sure; it will be nice to have a few extra things.  What I can tell you though is this, for me and my little family, there is no amount of money that can replace knowing that we get to hear her first words, that we get to see her personality grow, that we get to spend time as a family, that I get to see the world through her eyes, and knowing that I’m the one influencing her growth as a person.

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The Mysterious “It”, Shaggy Dog Earns His Keep, and Epic Baby Poops

I tried to keep a journal chronicling  my early weeks as a new mom; I let a few friends read my work, some liked it some said to stick to my “day” job. Just the other day I had someone bring up the “IT!” moment. I thought I’d share it with you 🙂   I call my wee one Smidge, Smidegen, Smidgey, and any other variation that comes out of my muddled brain.

The IT!

Lesson learned, over tired baby equals cranky, upset, demon baby with the superhuman ability to cry for hours.

Luckily for me, my Smidge is a happy go lucky baby.  You have to really really try to piss off my Smidgey.  She’ll talk a bit, whine on occasion, and when she cries, she has a good reason.  However, on rare occasions (count 3), we have nights “it” happens.

We’re getting ready for bed. I have all the night supplies stocked and ready; diapers, wipes, absorbent covers for changing,  boppy-ish pillow, baby almost half sleep. Cliff is ready, has his chew bone (he always has it with him when he’s in one room for long periods of time), the man has Netflix queued to “Psych” I’m getting excited! There’s sleep in my future! We settle in, Smidgey is having her before bed snack, we watch an episode; have some snuggle time, she falls asleep, I put her in her little bassinet, Cliff is snoring, the man is snoring, I roll over snuggle up to my pillow, my eyes are closing, Mr. Sandman is there beckoning me, I’m almost there….and…..BAM!, “it” happens…I don’t know what “it” was or is, but “it” caused my sweet- natured Smidge to turn into an angry, crying, demon spawn.  Crying just doesn’t describe what was going on. I don’t mean the “waaa, waaa, gurgle, I’m irritated cry”; I’m talking full blown purple baby, worst day of my life, I hate the world, everything sucks, can’t catch my breath, baby screams.   Let’s say, if I ever meet “it” face to face or figure out what “it” was or is, I’ll find a way to strangle every bit of life out of “it” so no other baby (read sleep deprived mom) will ever have to suffer again!!!!

After the first 15 minutes of crying, I come to the realization my sleep isn’t going to happen and this episode is going to last for a while. I wave good bye to the Sandman, gather baby supplies and We, Smidge and I, head for the living room so at least one of the adults in this house can get some sleep.  My reasoning only one should suffer, is that he has to leave for work in the A.M. and we should probably have one adult that appears to be coherent and is functioning on more than 2 hours of total sleep for the night/week.  Not only that, but when we first brought Smidge home super dad spent most of the nights up with her as much as he could, so I could get some sleep and try to heal from delivery.  I can also cat nap during the day when Smidgey goes to sleep.

So, I try everything to figure out “it”.

I start with the normal culprits:

  • dirty diaper? Nope.
  • hungry?  Not a chance. She spit the milk back at me and screamed
  • itchy onesie?  No. To be sure, we had naked baby except for diaper
  • gas?  Maybe, no burp but, the kid can pass gas like a college frat boy after a bender
  • to warm?  See naked baby.
  • to cold? Nah…. naked baby wrapped in a blanket, warm hands, and warm feet
  • fever?  Nope, though the rectal thermometer may or may not have helped the screaming

Okay, normal stuff not working…on to the next level… is she sick?  Constipated?  Just being an angry Smidge?  Who knows….

Normally, during all of this my douche-bag, lazy dog would have stayed with the man in bed and slept, however, Fuzzy earned his keep during the “it” fiasco.  He decided to stay up and keep me and Smidgey company.  He followed me around while I was checking her and getting set up for a long night.  When I settled into my chair, he walked over and sat beside me, he put his paws on my leg and rested his head there so I could just pet him.  He would also change sides and give Smidge a lick on her head, make some doggy noises like he was telling her it was ok.  I think Mr. Fuzz was willing to try anything to get his humans back in the same room and get his little human happy again.  Cliffy went so far as to go get his chew bone drop it on my lap where I had Smidge sitting/laying, as if to say “This helps me when I don’t feel good, go ahead, I’ll let you chew on it for a bit”,  I thought it was very very sweet of him.  I gave him his bone back, and he laid in the floor at my feet for about an hour while we tried rocking Smidge. She would quiet down for about five minutes, just enough time for me and Cliff to share a “maybe?” look and then she’d start crying again.  Clifford would sigh, lick my hand, and start chewing on his bone again.  Every 30 minutes or so, he would also get up go check to make sure the man was ok, and then come back to me and Smidge.  Cliffy had a long, long night protecting his humans and just being a great dog.

As we started hour three or was it four? (everything started to blur after the first hour)  I have her over my shoulder pacing the hallway and super dog is right behind me, close enough that I know he’s there, and far enough back so I didn’t kick him or trip over him.  Every time we would make a trip he would still go in and check on the man. After a bit, I actually felt sorry for Clifford,  he looked about how I felt, exhausted.  I finally felt sorry for him and shut him in the bedroom where he stumbled to the bed, snuggled with the many, passed out asleep.  To this day, I’m not sure who snored the most; man or dog.

After many trips up and down the hallway….Finally, finally, finally…she stops crying, gets this look of intense concentration, makes a squeak/grunt combo and the ten pound munchkin let out an epic fart followed by the most epic baby shit ever. No, I can’t even say poo here, I mean this was an Epic Shit, Record book worthy, diaper full, trying to run out the sides, I was disgusted and the same time just wanted to cheer for her, if I had that much poop built up, I would have cried too.  There aren’t words to completely describe this poo, it would have been picture worthy, but even I draw the line at poo photos.

The best and worst, this poo opened the flood gates.  I’m not sure if I ate something that upset her stomach or what.  After that first epic crap, she at least stopped the angry baby cries and downgraded to just a sad, tired, whimper cry.  No longer angry screaming demon child, we were on the downside, Smidge had the most pitiful little face, the lower lip was quivering, and it was just a soft “waaa” sound coming out of her. She was completely exhausted and all I could do was kiss her and murmur sweet words, and offer comfort. The downside cry, as I call it, is the one that breaks your heart and makes you feel helpless as a parent because it is just plain pitiful. You know they don’t feel good, and in the end there’s not a damn thing you can do to take away the discomfort, but walk, rock, cuddle, and comfort and hope its good enough in the end.  At least I can deal with the angry baby cries because I know there is something causing them, its just a matter of time to find out what it is.  The sad baby cry, just ugh… 😦

After about 4 hours of baby misery, Cliffy earning his keep, epic poops, wearing a hole in the hallway carpet, changing several more poop diapers, my sweet little Smidge was back.  She finally fell asleep. I was able to put her to bed, snuggle in myself, have the man wake up enough to tell me he loved me, ask how Smidge was, and I finally was able to greet the Sandman for a short journey.  The best part after all of that she passed out for about five straight hours, woke up the next morning just happy.  Me, on the other hand, woke up every one or two to just make sure she was ok, and thanked God for coffee the next morning!

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“A two-year-old…

“A two-year-old is kind of like having a blender, but you don’t have a top for it.”
Jerry Seinfeld

This. Is. My. Life.

This blog will be based on the antics, trials, tribulations, and the wonderful conversations that go on in my head as I battle to keep the house clean and my sanity intact and try to win the war with the toddler and the dog….

I hope you enjoy the read, writing may be the only thing that keeps me sane.  Well, that and coffee.

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