1. I brush my teeth in the shower.
2. I CAN cook, just not very well, and I don't really like it. So when my husband gets home and is expecting a big meal for Christmas day... it will be take out, or Wal-Mart deli.
3. I'm the oldest of 6 kids and I also have a younger step-brother. So I guess 7.
4. I was home and public schooled. We went back and forth a lot.
5. I doubt myself in the strangest situations.
6. If I could get rid of a body part on myself and replace it with "better," I'd trade in my calves.
7. I have 5 tattoos, and am planning to get more.
8. The beach = my own personal Heaven.
9. I love, love, love to read. I don't have as much time for it these days, but I still try to squeeze in a good book every once in a while.
10. I haven't recently tested this, but I used to be able to text what a person was saying as fast as they could say it.
11. I met my husband in Basic Training. We both got hurt, he healed, I didn't (well not fast enough anyway, I'm fine now).
12. I love coffee, but I don't drink it very often. I forget a lot.
13. I'm not really into a lot of sweets, but when I want them, I have to have them on hand.
14. When I was pregnant with my son, I craved all the foods my husband likes.
15. I am a freak for a good burger, but even more so for GREAT Mexican food.
16. There are only a select few people I like talking on the phone to.
17. I enjoy making new friends.
18. In high school, I took every.single.English and writing class that was available to me. I love it!
19. I hate putting on makeup, but I like how I look with it on.
20. I have more than one best friend, but I don't throw the word around lightly. Except when I'm really drunk, then I tend to tell people I just met how much I lurve them.
21. I am obsessed with Law and Order: SVU. Oh, and I like Disney. A LOT.
22. I've gotten somewhere in the neighborhood of 13 speeding tickets in my life. Let's not get into the number of times I SHOULD have gotten busted. Or taken to jail. I have a lead foot. It's getting better now that I have a little man in my backseat, though.
23. I love to be touched. Physical contact makes me feel more grounded. My husband doesn't understand this all the time, he tends to think I'm hitting on him.
24. I am a firm believer that married sex is the best. I don't know why, I don't analyze it, all I'm saying is I put a ring on that man's finger and things MUCH improved (not that they needed to).
25. I really strive to be a good listener. I think I fail sometimes, because I over-relate to people when I should just stay quiet. I'm working on it.
Saturday, August 22, 2009
Friday, August 21, 2009
this post is gross. don't say you weren't warned.
I suppose this officially puts me in the mommy blogger category with both feet... but ohmygosh I just have to tell you by FAR the strangest experience of motherhood for me to date.
So my son got up at 4am, as per usual, he got a bottle and a new diaper and went back to sleep. Around 815, I heard him awake in his bed, but not crying, so I just laid in bed and listened to him coo and entertain himself. After a few minutes, I got up and went to the kitchen to fix his bottle. When I went into his room, I was greeted by my smiling boy sitting up in his crib, butt naked.
Insert dangerous theme music... Beeeecaaaauuuusssseeee... He was COVERED. And I mean COVERED. In his own poop. Yup, I went there. From the crown of his head to the tips of his cute little toes he was smeared with feces like a bacteria-infested Picasso painting. I dropped the bottle, grasped him gingerly by the armpits (he missed a couple spots thankfully) and deposited him into the empty bathtub. I left him there while I ran for the phone-- OH YES I called 911. The conversation, over bathwater and more happy baby sounds, went something like:
Operator: 911, What is your emergency?
Me: Well, er, um, my son seems to have eaten his morning shit.
Operator: I'm sorry, what did you say?
Me: Well, there's a wet diaper in his crib with absolutely no poop in it, and a lovely brown masterpiece on his sheets, and, well, let's just say there is plenty of evidence around his mouth that he has, in fact, ingested most of his home made art supplies.
*Operator chuckles and clears throat*: Well, we can send an ambulance out... But I'd suggest calling your family doctor, as that's all the paramedics will do for you when they get there. If your physician tells you you need it, we can provide a transport for you to the Emergency Room.
Me: Well... Okay, I can call a doctor, but is there anything I can get him clean with? Cause I mean, it's POOP. I mean, I've got some bleach, no wait, that's bad. OH I KNOW, how about baking soda?!
Operator: Ma'am, please refrain from using anything but soap and water on your child. If you feel like you are going to harm him, please tell me now.
Me: What? No I'm not going to hurt him, but I'm definitely never kissing him again. Iwas wondering how to break myself of that pesky toe chewing habit I have... Guess this solves it!
So anyway, I cleaned the boy (ahem, almost drowned him with so much scrubbing and rinsing (ONLY SOAP, and don't ask me what the fuck I was thinking with that baking soda thing, I was straight panicking-- why did I think combat medic would be a good job for me? Motherhood is WORSE!) and the tub, and the floor, and the crib and the sheets and the wall and the floorboards and, well, you get it.
I called his pediatrician, was told to push fluids and to "make an appointment" if he was "vomiting more than 3x an hour for more than three days, having explosive diharrea for more than 5 days, or running a fever over 102.5 for more than two days." I told her my child ATE HIS OWN SHIT, and if any of that popped up for more than 5 minutes I was parking my ass in the middle of the clinic til I got seen.
Anyway, so I'll spare ya'll the details of the lovely swirl patterns he left all over the crib slats, or that I found some nice chunks in weird places in and under his bed-- leading me to believe it was not his usual semi-solid poo, but an actual adult-looking poo. I will, however, share, because if you've made it this far, you SO want to know... That after two days of no solid foods and just fomula/apple juice, he FINALLY pooped.
Doubly-digested feces end up like the equivalent of corn in a diaper. You know. You can totally see the chunks no matter how good you THOUGHT you chewed.
I'm giggling typing this all. I'm off now to think of naughty tags to put on this post.
So my son got up at 4am, as per usual, he got a bottle and a new diaper and went back to sleep. Around 815, I heard him awake in his bed, but not crying, so I just laid in bed and listened to him coo and entertain himself. After a few minutes, I got up and went to the kitchen to fix his bottle. When I went into his room, I was greeted by my smiling boy sitting up in his crib, butt naked.
Insert dangerous theme music... Beeeecaaaauuuusssseeee... He was COVERED. And I mean COVERED. In his own poop. Yup, I went there. From the crown of his head to the tips of his cute little toes he was smeared with feces like a bacteria-infested Picasso painting. I dropped the bottle, grasped him gingerly by the armpits (he missed a couple spots thankfully) and deposited him into the empty bathtub. I left him there while I ran for the phone-- OH YES I called 911. The conversation, over bathwater and more happy baby sounds, went something like:
Operator: 911, What is your emergency?
Me: Well, er, um, my son seems to have eaten his morning shit.
Operator: I'm sorry, what did you say?
Me: Well, there's a wet diaper in his crib with absolutely no poop in it, and a lovely brown masterpiece on his sheets, and, well, let's just say there is plenty of evidence around his mouth that he has, in fact, ingested most of his home made art supplies.
*Operator chuckles and clears throat*: Well, we can send an ambulance out... But I'd suggest calling your family doctor, as that's all the paramedics will do for you when they get there. If your physician tells you you need it, we can provide a transport for you to the Emergency Room.
Me: Well... Okay, I can call a doctor, but is there anything I can get him clean with? Cause I mean, it's POOP. I mean, I've got some bleach, no wait, that's bad. OH I KNOW, how about baking soda?!
Operator: Ma'am, please refrain from using anything but soap and water on your child. If you feel like you are going to harm him, please tell me now.
Me: What? No I'm not going to hurt him, but I'm definitely never kissing him again. Iwas wondering how to break myself of that pesky toe chewing habit I have... Guess this solves it!
So anyway, I cleaned the boy (ahem, almost drowned him with so much scrubbing and rinsing (ONLY SOAP, and don't ask me what the fuck I was thinking with that baking soda thing, I was straight panicking-- why did I think combat medic would be a good job for me? Motherhood is WORSE!) and the tub, and the floor, and the crib and the sheets and the wall and the floorboards and, well, you get it.
I called his pediatrician, was told to push fluids and to "make an appointment" if he was "vomiting more than 3x an hour for more than three days, having explosive diharrea for more than 5 days, or running a fever over 102.5 for more than two days." I told her my child ATE HIS OWN SHIT, and if any of that popped up for more than 5 minutes I was parking my ass in the middle of the clinic til I got seen.
Anyway, so I'll spare ya'll the details of the lovely swirl patterns he left all over the crib slats, or that I found some nice chunks in weird places in and under his bed-- leading me to believe it was not his usual semi-solid poo, but an actual adult-looking poo. I will, however, share, because if you've made it this far, you SO want to know... That after two days of no solid foods and just fomula/apple juice, he FINALLY pooped.
Doubly-digested feces end up like the equivalent of corn in a diaper. You know. You can totally see the chunks no matter how good you THOUGHT you chewed.
I'm giggling typing this all. I'm off now to think of naughty tags to put on this post.
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
random whining
I promise one of these days I will post something super sappy and positive and uplifting. Eventually. You know, maybe once my husband is home and I'm all sexually satisfied and shit. But for now, here's what I've got:
- If my kid doesn't get a fucking tooth soon I'm gonna lose my mind. He is such a pain right now.
- If my husband doesn't quit spending all our money I'm going to kill him. And then lose my mind cause I'd so get caught and sent to prison and eventually feel bad for killing him- if not for loss of him, then for not getting to watch my son grow up.
- I am so tired of vacuuming Goldfish out of my carpet every night. I don't see why those dang orange fish instill the desire in my son to push them into a pile and roll all over the top of them. It might actually be funny if it wasn't MY floor.
- I know I keep saying I want winter to come, but really, I hate the cold, so if I could just get my husband back before that happens, that'd be great... Cause I do not generate much body heat on my own and I need his to steal.
- Seriously. About the tooth... Get. Here. Now.
- I have hardcore post R&R insomnia. Now maybe some people just roll like that, but I don't anymore, and my kid does NOT care that mommy is a useless pile of crap all day, he still insists on being fed and changed and paid attention to. High maintenance little thing.
- I just read a blog post about pinkeye and it's making my eye hurt. Can we say psychosomatic?
- I miss my mom a lot and I want to go home one more time before the deployment is over... But it's probably not going to happen.
- Also, speaking of my mom, HER mom is coming to see me in a couple of weeks. Cue even more stress I didn't need. Maybe she'll buy me some fall clothes. Ha.
- I really don't have a cute way of ending this at all... So maybe I just won't.
- If my kid doesn't get a fucking tooth soon I'm gonna lose my mind. He is such a pain right now.
- If my husband doesn't quit spending all our money I'm going to kill him. And then lose my mind cause I'd so get caught and sent to prison and eventually feel bad for killing him- if not for loss of him, then for not getting to watch my son grow up.
- I am so tired of vacuuming Goldfish out of my carpet every night. I don't see why those dang orange fish instill the desire in my son to push them into a pile and roll all over the top of them. It might actually be funny if it wasn't MY floor.
- I know I keep saying I want winter to come, but really, I hate the cold, so if I could just get my husband back before that happens, that'd be great... Cause I do not generate much body heat on my own and I need his to steal.
- Seriously. About the tooth... Get. Here. Now.
- I have hardcore post R&R insomnia. Now maybe some people just roll like that, but I don't anymore, and my kid does NOT care that mommy is a useless pile of crap all day, he still insists on being fed and changed and paid attention to. High maintenance little thing.
- I just read a blog post about pinkeye and it's making my eye hurt. Can we say psychosomatic?
- I miss my mom a lot and I want to go home one more time before the deployment is over... But it's probably not going to happen.
- Also, speaking of my mom, HER mom is coming to see me in a couple of weeks. Cue even more stress I didn't need. Maybe she'll buy me some fall clothes. Ha.
- I really don't have a cute way of ending this at all... So maybe I just won't.
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
JSYK
I may not be what you would call a Bible thumper (why is my spell check going off on the word thumper?). Depending on your definition, I suppose. I was raised in a Christian home, by all means. I was raised that if you did wrong, you got spanked, if you sat down to eat, you blessed your food, that you were to honor your mom and dad even if you secretly thought they were huge buttheads for making you eat your vegetables, that you should start every day by putting on the full armor of God (we had a routine in the car or before walking out the door, I still remember the whole thing mom!), and, I think most importantly, that Jesus died on the cross for our sins, so that we could have a relationship and forgiveness from God (oh yeah and that whole Heaven deal was a pretty sweet bonus too!). I grew up going to churches of many denominations, even went to a Christian college (before I developed a Wednesday- Tuesday drinking problem and a nifty little teen pregnancy... post for another day). My point to all of this is to say that even though I was "raised right," I didn't and haven't always stayed true to what I know is correct.
By far, I am not professing perfection and I never have. But my back and forth war with God, though ongoing, has taught me this much: that there really is no cut and dried "perfect" Christian. Really, anyone who would say that they ARE the perfect example probably needs the most work. I have learned, however, that no matter how far I run in the opposite direction, I always end up being pursued by God in ways I can't even begin to explain. Dude must think I fucking rock. I'm just saying.
Oh. And speaking of the F bomb in conjunction with God... I'll be straight with you, lest anyone think I'm being a hypocrite. I had premarital sex (not saying that was a good call cause honestly married sex is better but again that's another post entirely). I have tattoos and WILL get more. I drink. I smoke (sometimes). I cuss. I eat crap food. I don't read my Bible as much as I should. I watch "bad" movies. I yell at my husband. Some days I hide from my baby cause I don't want to hear him whine. And guess what? Like I said, I am still totally loved by God. Just as much as the next guy. I'm still absolutely, 100% saved by grace.
And I just happen to think that fucking rocks. :)
By far, I am not professing perfection and I never have. But my back and forth war with God, though ongoing, has taught me this much: that there really is no cut and dried "perfect" Christian. Really, anyone who would say that they ARE the perfect example probably needs the most work. I have learned, however, that no matter how far I run in the opposite direction, I always end up being pursued by God in ways I can't even begin to explain. Dude must think I fucking rock. I'm just saying.
Oh. And speaking of the F bomb in conjunction with God... I'll be straight with you, lest anyone think I'm being a hypocrite. I had premarital sex (not saying that was a good call cause honestly married sex is better but again that's another post entirely). I have tattoos and WILL get more. I drink. I smoke (sometimes). I cuss. I eat crap food. I don't read my Bible as much as I should. I watch "bad" movies. I yell at my husband. Some days I hide from my baby cause I don't want to hear him whine. And guess what? Like I said, I am still totally loved by God. Just as much as the next guy. I'm still absolutely, 100% saved by grace.
And I just happen to think that fucking rocks. :)
Irrationality. Woe Is Me.
Life isn't always (ever?) fair. I know this, I live it. Sometimes, I still have to bitch about it. If you can't handle a little bitching, please come back another day. If you can handle the bitching, please don't attempt to give me "pat on the back" comments afterwards. I really don't need that at all, so if you could all just skip the "hang in there" speeches, it'd be much appreciated.
That being said, I am SO FUCKING JEALOUS. There are a few friends of mine whose deployments started AFTER ours and are now ending. Like within the month. I know, I know, shoulda been a Marine wife... but that Army boy was just so dang charming. And the sex... well... anyway... Back to my rant?
How seriously twisted is it that these wives are getting ready for homecoming AND they just got R&R AND it's only been 8 months? I just hate it. I mean, I'm happy for them and all, I do emphasize that they are my friends but it just pisses me off that we still have another 4-5 months until we MIGHT be able to hope for homecoming. I don't even know if my husband will be home in 2009. *deleted: rant about how I've been doing this longer than 99.9% of the wives in our unit* I'm so sick and tired of dealing with all of this. I just want him home. I don't want to do this alone anymore, I don't feel like my strength will hold out much longer. I was hanging by a frayed thread before R&R, and now I'm a little better after seeing him, but really, let's face it, I'm not myself without my husband. Not that I lost myself in being with him, more that I found the rest of me that I didn't know I was missing, and now it's gone again.
I just don't feel like I can handle another lonely night, another endless day to get through without his smiling face peeking around the corner and saying, "Hello my family!" And it is KILLING ME to watch all these wives get ready for homecoming. I feel like we deserve it just as much, but we won't be getting it any time soon. I'm almost to the point of wanting to make nasty comments to these girls... but I don't WANT to do that, it's just the evil part of me that wants to rain on their parade cause I'm sitting here all miserable. Isn't that the definition of a bully? Ugh. Compassion fail.
I miss you, husband of mine, and nothing is going to fix that or fill the void in our house that you left until you're home again.
That being said, I am SO FUCKING JEALOUS. There are a few friends of mine whose deployments started AFTER ours and are now ending. Like within the month. I know, I know, shoulda been a Marine wife... but that Army boy was just so dang charming. And the sex... well... anyway... Back to my rant?
How seriously twisted is it that these wives are getting ready for homecoming AND they just got R&R AND it's only been 8 months? I just hate it. I mean, I'm happy for them and all, I do emphasize that they are my friends but it just pisses me off that we still have another 4-5 months until we MIGHT be able to hope for homecoming. I don't even know if my husband will be home in 2009. *deleted: rant about how I've been doing this longer than 99.9% of the wives in our unit* I'm so sick and tired of dealing with all of this. I just want him home. I don't want to do this alone anymore, I don't feel like my strength will hold out much longer. I was hanging by a frayed thread before R&R, and now I'm a little better after seeing him, but really, let's face it, I'm not myself without my husband. Not that I lost myself in being with him, more that I found the rest of me that I didn't know I was missing, and now it's gone again.
I just don't feel like I can handle another lonely night, another endless day to get through without his smiling face peeking around the corner and saying, "Hello my family!" And it is KILLING ME to watch all these wives get ready for homecoming. I feel like we deserve it just as much, but we won't be getting it any time soon. I'm almost to the point of wanting to make nasty comments to these girls... but I don't WANT to do that, it's just the evil part of me that wants to rain on their parade cause I'm sitting here all miserable. Isn't that the definition of a bully? Ugh. Compassion fail.
I miss you, husband of mine, and nothing is going to fix that or fill the void in our house that you left until you're home again.
Saturday, August 15, 2009
Has Anyone Seen My Sanity (Or... Is That Another Tooth? DAMN!)
Having just scraped through teeth numbers 5 and 6 this past week, I collapsed into my bed, weeping openly in gratitude that it was OVER and I could get a BREAK at night (and during the day too let's not kid). Well, I should have skipped the time to cry and just slept, cause after 3 blissful days, we're back on the teething train, and I might die.
Now, I know I don't have it as bad as some... He only got the flu-like teething with the first two (let me tell you how that terrified me)-- fever, vomit, diarrhea, all to the point that the doctors almost admitted him into the hospital because he had lost 3 pounds and couldn't hold down even a few MLs of pedialyte for more than 5 minutes at a time. It kinda makes me want to cry just remembering all the time I spent holding my hot-bodied little baby over the sink so he could express the contents of his stomach before he collapsed against my chest, whimpering. But it passed after about 10 days and then we had teeth! Yay! The "vampire fangs" that came next (top teeth, but not the front ones) totally snuck up on me. I didn't even realize they were in until I flipped him upside down one day to get better tummy access to tickle him. So that was no sweat! Then came the front ones... Lots of crying... Two weeks of 5-bottles a night, Tylenol every window of opportunity, teething tablets were purchased in bulk, etc., etc. It was like having a newborn at night, and a WHINY CRYBABY chasing me around the house during the day*. He didn't want to be put down, he didn't want to be held, he didn't want to look at me, but woe to me if I left his sight (anyone making a PMS connection? jeez). This time? Well, all I know is we're back to living on ice cubes and bottles (he won't take solid food to save his life) and we're joined at the f--king hip. He is like an octopus with an attitude problem. AND AND AND. I forgot to tell you the best part (I know, right, like it could get better in this baby-infested bitch fest)... He does this stressed out grunt... As if he was passing a poop the size of Rhode Island... but he's NOT. He's just mad that his mouth hurts. Jeez. Give the kid a shot of Lidocaine and call it a day or something.
My point to all of this, is that my house is in disarray, my legs are hairy (because I can't even shower alone), and I don't even think I've gotten the shampoo out of my hair the last couple showers cause it's lookin a little strange. Now I'm sure some of you are going, well, why don't you just do all that after he goes to bed? Because. I have PTSD from my baby. When he goes to bed, I toss the toys that have been attempting my murder all day into the toy basket and then I flop onto the couch til I can't find anymore junk TV to watch. I don't think I even eat dinner anymore. I look for food... but then my eyes glaze over and I just go back to the couch and enjoy not being smacked by little hands.
*My son, typically, is not one to freak out. If he's crying, there's a specific, easily fixable reason. Kiss the boo-boo, fill the tummy, or give him his freaking Tigger doll and leave him alone to take a nap!
Now, I know I don't have it as bad as some... He only got the flu-like teething with the first two (let me tell you how that terrified me)-- fever, vomit, diarrhea, all to the point that the doctors almost admitted him into the hospital because he had lost 3 pounds and couldn't hold down even a few MLs of pedialyte for more than 5 minutes at a time. It kinda makes me want to cry just remembering all the time I spent holding my hot-bodied little baby over the sink so he could express the contents of his stomach before he collapsed against my chest, whimpering. But it passed after about 10 days and then we had teeth! Yay! The "vampire fangs" that came next (top teeth, but not the front ones) totally snuck up on me. I didn't even realize they were in until I flipped him upside down one day to get better tummy access to tickle him. So that was no sweat! Then came the front ones... Lots of crying... Two weeks of 5-bottles a night, Tylenol every window of opportunity, teething tablets were purchased in bulk, etc., etc. It was like having a newborn at night, and a WHINY CRYBABY chasing me around the house during the day*. He didn't want to be put down, he didn't want to be held, he didn't want to look at me, but woe to me if I left his sight (anyone making a PMS connection? jeez). This time? Well, all I know is we're back to living on ice cubes and bottles (he won't take solid food to save his life) and we're joined at the f--king hip. He is like an octopus with an attitude problem. AND AND AND. I forgot to tell you the best part (I know, right, like it could get better in this baby-infested bitch fest)... He does this stressed out grunt... As if he was passing a poop the size of Rhode Island... but he's NOT. He's just mad that his mouth hurts. Jeez. Give the kid a shot of Lidocaine and call it a day or something.
My point to all of this, is that my house is in disarray, my legs are hairy (because I can't even shower alone), and I don't even think I've gotten the shampoo out of my hair the last couple showers cause it's lookin a little strange. Now I'm sure some of you are going, well, why don't you just do all that after he goes to bed? Because. I have PTSD from my baby. When he goes to bed, I toss the toys that have been attempting my murder all day into the toy basket and then I flop onto the couch til I can't find anymore junk TV to watch. I don't think I even eat dinner anymore. I look for food... but then my eyes glaze over and I just go back to the couch and enjoy not being smacked by little hands.
In conclusion, teething turns my kid into a soul sucking octopus of a child. Upside? A few extra minutes of snuggling after naps. Downside? You try to clean the bathtub with the Flozell Adams of all babies attached to your hip/leg.
*My son, typically, is not one to freak out. If he's crying, there's a specific, easily fixable reason. Kiss the boo-boo, fill the tummy, or give him his freaking Tigger doll and leave him alone to take a nap!
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
Anonymity?
So, since I have a few followers I don't know, some I do, I've really been wrestling with how much to reveal. We've all heard stories about creepers*, and I remember seeing a news story when I was a kid about how you should ALWAYS Google yourself to see if anyone has set up a creepy stalker fan site in your honor (personally I don't think I'm THAT cool) and so on. But really, I've never been ALL that careful online. My screen names tend to be, well, my first name, middle initial, and last name. I don't click spam links or anything, and if I post an ad on Craigslist, I don't put my name or phone number, I just let them send emails to the anonymous address. So I'm not an idiot, but I'm also not paranoid. But when it comes to revealing details about my life on the day to day front, I'm feeling the need to be a bit more cautious. Thus far, I have not posted anyone's name but my own, but that's bound to get confusing sometime down the line. So I've been throwing around aliases for those that I mention the most, trying to decide if I really want to go the route of full on nicknames, or just put initials (which I do for convenience sake in any other forum I use online). I haven't decided yet... But I'm curious. What do you reveal about your "real life" in your writing? Are you super anonymous, bold as they come, or somewhere in the middle? Cause it's one thing, I think, for me to write a post ranting about my husband's stinky socks and my son wiggling away mid-diaper change to leave a trail of pee as he crawls, but quite another, to me, to mention their names. Does that make sense?
*not that I think anyone's a creeper on here, again I don't think I'm that cool, but that "follow anonymously" thing skeeves me out a bit.
*not that I think anyone's a creeper on here, again I don't think I'm that cool, but that "follow anonymously" thing skeeves me out a bit.
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