A Little Harried

After being up approximately every 15 minutes last night (yes, you heard me right) between the hours of 11:30 and 6:00 tending to a very snotty, extremely clogged up little baby who was not thrilled with being so, I am a wee bit worn down, you might say. Adding to my exhaustion was the horrendous "thud!" and ear-piercing scream that woke me up at 5:15 this morning, only minutes after having dozed off (again). Chris and I jumped up (or at least I did. I know he had one eye open... I think. Hard to remember), and I flipped the light on to check the crib, from whence the sound came, only to find a soundly snoozing Hayden. Poor thing. She must've been having a bad dream, we reasoned, and rolled around in bed enough to make the crashing sound we heard. Fast forward 5 minutes, to about the time I slipped from consciousness, and an urgent crying jolted me up yet again. Light on, look in the crib, and she's... out like a light (no pun intended). I comforted her with thoughts of Bunny Bears and Paci's, and assured her Mommy and Daddy were nearby, so please, please GO TO SLEEP FOR THE LOVE! and gently tucked her wee little body back in, smoothed back her hair, and crawled defeatedly back into bed.

Apparently my soothing worked wonders because she didn't stir again, and neither did I. Through my alarms and Chris's I slept, and awoke with a start at 7:30, with barely enough time to splash some water on the important parts , brush my teeth and hair and get Hayden ready to go.

As we dashed out of the bathroom, I noticed the very firm imprint of my pillow across my cheek, giving me only the time to hope it would fade before I arrived at work (it didn't).

In the kitchen, I got Hayden fastened in her seat and got her morning reflux medicine and syringed it up the dropper, ready to dispense it when I noticed it had turned a rather unseemly brown color (it's usually a very pale yellow). Perplexed, I took a quick look at the bottle as I got ready to give it to her, and noticed just in time that I had prepared a cc of Vanilla Flavoring to dose her with. That's, good, Bon. Send her to preschool with alcohol on her breath. That won't raise any questions. Of course, my only thought was that I was glad I hadn't switched it with something worse. Like the triple antibiotic ointment and the orajel (never happened).

Some mornings are a little crazier than others. This is why we have kids. To keep life interesting. Keep us on our toes. Keep us sleep deprived to the point of incapacitation.

Good times... good times....

First Haircut

After months of delays, excuses and foot-dragging, I finally acquiesed tonight to my Mother-in-Law's appeals to cut Hayden's hair. Our family friend, Barbara, who is an accomplished stylist, was over visiting, and the subject of Hayden's mullet somehow came up. Thinking that this activity would offer us all a good distraction, I mentioned it might be nice if she could help me out by cutting Hayden's hair. Getting her to agree was no problem at all, and soon we had Hayden plopped on the counter, hair slicked, and objects of entertainment on hand.

At first, Hayden was relatively calm, allowing Barbara to comb her hair without protest, although she kept a wary eye on her.

Hayden watched as Mommy practiced all sorts of magic tricks and noises as the true cutting got underway, keeping things calm for another minute or so, as Barbara dove in to the task of chopping that mullet off, and Grandma watched on.

Alas, the serenity would be shattered shortly after, when Hayden figured out the true plan. She let us know that this would not be tolerated quietly! As you can see, her Mommy was taking her threats very seriously.

Barbara made quick work of it, and we were soon done, with nothing left to do but sweep up the (enormous amount of) hair that fell victim to the shears.

After some consideration (and cracker bribes), Hayden decided that she was pretty happy with her new 'do, although poor Barbara would remain on her list the rest of the night.

Here, Hayden shows off a beautiful profile shot of her classy new style.

Weekend Vignettes

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Saturday, approx. 5pm, my bathroom

I'm rushing around frantically trying to get dressed, put makeup on (!), and fix my hair. Hayden, meantime, has chosen this of all times for a meltdown. The vast assortment of toys, both parent-approved and Hayden-selected (my hairbrush, deodorant, and a bracelet) is doing nothing to settle her down. In a last ditch effort, I grab a box of tampons from under the counter. Seconds later, a cascade of them shower my bathroom floor. Then, wait... What is that sound?! Silence!!! Playing 52-tampon pickup is a small price to pay for 5 uniterrupted minutes for getting ready when you're already desperately late. Thanks, Playtex.

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Later that evening, at the work Christmas party, just after we've eaten dinner

One of the execs my hubby and I are chatting with subtly and quietly mentions, "Bon, you've got a litte bird in your grill there, I thought I'd let you know." Chris, hearing this, chimes in, "Oh yeah! I meant to say something about that!" Crap, I thought, perfect time to get chicken stuck in my teeth! I turn away and start trying to dislodge the offending fowl and upon realizing what I'm doing, my coworker clarifies, "Oh, no, Bon. I meant you have a bird that got stuck in the grill of your car!" It's then that I remember the small feathered creature that dove in front of our car on the way to the party. I'm not sure what's worse - walking around a party with food stuck in your teeth, or showing up to such an elegant event with a dirty car (full of baby gear, might I add, and who knows what else) adorned with a dead bird. And parking up front by the door. Lovely.

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Sunday Morning, around 8:30am

Chris awakes to hear a small voice calling. For him. "Da.... Da! Dahh Dahhh! Da da da da dah dah da!" Hayden, who has been saying "Da-da" for a week or so now on the rare occasion, wanted to make sure he knew who she was looking at! She wanted her Da-da to come get her out of bed. Despite wanting to roll over and go back to sleep, he got up and got his little buddy.

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Later that afternoon

We sold the oven! YAY! Going, going, GONE! Finite! No More. Done! Then we decided to 'celebrate' by getting the remaining few items out of our storage building and finishing our move. If I haven't mentioned before, Chris and I don't move stuff well together. That's why we built the house, in fact. So we will never have to move again. Our marriage is pretty strong, but another buffet that weighs as much as the one in our living room, and we might not make it. For as similar as we are in values, goals, tastes, etc, that is one area that we are WAY different. If I see that it makes sense to pick something up, turn it on it's side and carry it in the house, Chris sees that we should flip it over, pick it up, start moving it while one of us only has one hand on it, and see if we can't mash the other hand a few times before we set it down. See? We just look at stuff differently. It's not that one of us is right (me) and the other is wrong (him), it's just that we have our own approaches (me, careful planning and assessment. Him, run headlong at it with our eyes closed) to things like this. And that's okay, so long as we don't have to work together much. Happily, we seem to have worked out a little system that helps us both get through these situations without too many hurt feelings or fingers. It involves a good amount of name calling, cursing, obscene gesturing, and a few hugs and kisses (and hair-pulling and arm-pinching). Hey, it works for us. :)

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Later that night

Hayden is sitting on her Grandma's lap, and they are looking through the weekly circulars from the local drugstore that have become Hayden's favorite 'books.' Grandma points out the different pictures to Hayden, "See the little boy on the swing? He's having fun!" "See the little cat, it's giving that doggie a kiss, isn't it?" As she read that last one, Hayden looked up at her and becan blowing kisses. It still amazes me that at less than a year old her comprehension is so well-honed that she understood what Grandma was saying to her! Genius baby, I tell ya!

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Night Terrors

The other night, Chris was out of town, and it was just Haydie Pie and I at home. After she konked out for the evening, I let her stay in bed with me (with the appropriate amount of pillows and blankets to keep her from rolling off the other side of the bed), because let's face it - I needed the company as much as she did. She's a fun little companion in bed, except for the occasional kick to my head (how did she get her feet up there? Seriously, she was just curled up in a ball on top of her bunny bear!), or finger in my eye.

Somewhere in the midst of the windstorm outside, the blinking electricity, Hayden awaking and other random stuff that got me up throughout the night, I was able to get deep enough asleep that I was actually dreaming. Ah, dreams! Ahhhh, sleep!!!! Anyway, it was a very wierd dream, as mine ususally are, and got to this one point that Chris, my sister Grace and I were being chased by a lady with a gun.

Oh - I should back up a little now. You see, I talk in my sleep. Talk, scream, babble, and on the very rare occasion move. I've never actually walked -that was Grace's gig - but I did one time fall off a building in a dream and awoke when I landed face first on my bed - hard. Most of the time, I am just an amusement for Chris, as I drift off to sleep and begin quoting absurd variations of what is going on in my head. He loves to egg me on, until he's done and ready to go to sleep and I won't shut up, but that's another post, really.

So, back to my dream. This lady has a gun in her pocket, and at some point we knocked her down on the ground, and she's trying to pull the gun from her pocket, and I realize this is a key moment we can overtake and disarm her. So I yell to Chris and Grace, "GET HER!" and I pounce on her, grabbing her arms to keep her from getting the gun.

This is when I awoke to Hayden wailing her discontent at me. And I realized I was on top of her, clutching her to me.

Ooops! She wasn't at all hurt, but needless to say, she wasn't really happy with me, and had no objections when I put her back in her crib for the rest of the night.

Not Me! Monday

This weekend we celebrated Chris's birthday, and it was certainly not the first time I've thrown him a party since we've been married. We invited all his friends, and we all had an absolute blast!

I would love to share some pictures of the festivities, but I absolutely was not the one who made a big to-do about getting the cameras ready and then totally forgot to snap the first picture! Nope, not me!

We had some delightful goodies, snacks and other bite sized creations, and I had all my own unique and wonderful recipes. I most certainly did not snag two of my mom's annual crowd-pleasing concoctions, and wouldn't even think about ripping off my sis's new winner - fried ravioli and marinara sauce! Yum! That wasn't me, either!

Hayden of course entertained everyone with her laughing, crawling, clapping, "i love you this much"-ing antics. I held her and watched after her the whole time. I certainly did not pawn her off on her MeMa and Poppie the second they arrived. I really am am such a good mother - I had her to bed very early, too. I of course didn't let her stay up until the party wrapped at 12:30... Not ME!

Yesterday, you know we jumped right up at the crack of dawn and began cleaning up. I most certainly did not stay in bed napping with Hayden until after noon - Not me! I didn't leave a pot full of overbaked cheese dip sitting on the counter, even today as I headed off to work, to clean up "at a later point." I put the house immediately back to order, and wouldn't dream of leaving it set up in party mode for the get-together I'm having this weekend. I am such a good little housewife!

Last night, as Chris and I ate dinner (at the dining room table, like civilized adults, and not curled up in the den), I certainly didn't let Hayden snack on cracker crumbs left over from the party, because of course those were all cleaned up already, and I wouldn't want her eating off the floor - even if it meant a few short minutes of quiet between the crabby wailing of a teething baby. Nope, it wasn't me!

Happy Not Me! Monday, everyone! Enjoy your imperfections and shortcomings like the rest of us, and link your stories here!

Personal Growth

Bad habits. I know I have more than my share. I hate to change the toilet paper roll, even if I use the last bit of tissue; I just despise going to get a new roll and switching them out. I stand in kitchen barefoot and leave the fridge open as I devour food straight from the container late at night. I have a penchant for chocolate that I could do without... the list could go on and on.

One of the habits that I've been trying to break for awhile now is my instant outrageous answer to those overly-obvious questions that people feel compelled to vocalize from time to time. It always sounds pretty funny in my head, but I know that not everyone else has my sense of humor, particularly the person asking the question. Especially since they don't often realize how blatantly obvious their interrogation was. (That, of course, is usually why they asked.)

So, I realize this about myself. I'm trying to do better. Trying to change and grow. But for pete's sake, a body can only stand so much growth, and sometimes these people are just begging for a response so over the top that it stops them in their tracks, makes their jaws drop and stammer in stunned silence. That's just so much more fun than having to supply the boring and expected response to those inane questions, no?

Let me show you just how well I'm doing. (Hey, I may not say it out loud to them, but I have to share somewhere - this stuff is just too good to keep to myself). Before I share I have to, in the interest of full disclosure, tell you that one of my pet peeves is cashiers who think that being attentive and courteous involves discussing my purchases as they are ringing me up. Yes, that Preparation H sure does wonders for my burning rump, thanks for asking. Oh yes, the raspberry scent is so much better than the original! You've just GOT to try it! It also makes a nice sauce for roasted chicken, by the way. Seriously, these people are the reason self-checks have become so popular. I'd rather do the work myself without the commentary. So, without further ado -

Setting: the checkout line of the local grocery store. A young lady is ringing my order up. The conveyor is loaded with bags of potatos, oodles of corn, tons of shrimp and mounds of sausage; supplies for the low country boil we're hosting this weekend.

Cashier (upon scanning the 5th or 6th kielbasa in a row): So...are you making something with all this sausage...and...shrimp?

Me (watch how I am ever so polite): Yes, yes I am. I'm using them, and the corn and potatos here, in case you were wondering, to make a low country boil.

Cashier: ... ... ... ... (stares at me)... ... ... ... (and I swear, a little drool came out)... ... ... ...

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That's what I get for trying! Now here's how that conversation went in my head...

Version A:

Cashier: Are you making something with all this sausage and shrimp?

Me: WHAT?! There's sausage in my cart?!?! And shrimp?!!?! Who put those there?!? I don't eat sausage!!! and then I just melt down in a total freak-out over the sheer thought of shrimp touching my groceries.

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Version B:

Cashier: Are you making something with all this sausage and shrimp?

Me: Yes, yes I am. We're making a paper mache project for my daughter's art class. And I continue to pay as if that was a totally sane response, but I develop a slight tick that gets progressively worse throughout the transaction. By the time I leave, I'm drooling a little.

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I know. I am a mean, heartless creature, I tell you. But I'm working on it. I could do even better, especially if these well meaning cashiers would just go back to texting their BFFs while checkng me out instead of attempting to make pleasantries. Seriously!

Bad Mommy Tricks

Every once in a while, as a mother, you do something that you know you shouldn't. Something you know you'll live to regret, or something that will at least make other mothers and by standers frown upon you and 'tsk, tsk' your incredible lack of concern for your child. I call these my "bad mommy tricks". Things like letting the baby sleep in the carseat! On the bed! While you run to the bathroom. Yes, I know she can suffocate like that, and I know that she could suddenly wake up, become infuriated in the carseat and manage to fling herself off the bed face first, but sometimes you just gotta live on the edge, darnit, and throw all caution to the wind so you can pee in peace.

Maybe because I'm a glutton for punishment, or maybe just to make my other mommy friends (who I KNOW do these things as well) not feel so crazy, I've decided to add a new category to my blog and occasionally share some of my moments of poor judgement and utter disregard for my baby's welfare...

Here goes nothing!

Hayden now has pretty good use of her hands, and has begun focusing her energies on grabbing everything within arm's reach (and trying for stuff a little further away, which I fear will have her crawling any minute!). If Mommy's holding it, Hayden wants to hold it. This is especially true of any plastic bottles or drinks. The kid has figured out the bottle thing, and thinks any one she sees should be hers. She has laser beams for any bottle in her sightline... You should see her try to wrap her lips around the giant plastic caps on a soda bottle (don't worry, you germaphobes, and you know who you are... I usually remember to clean off the caps before she begins slobbering all over them!). It's a riot to see her try to tackle a bottle bigger than she is!

Now she's after my glasses, too, so usually I'm holding the top, trying to drink, and she's holding the bottom, trying to pry it from my grasp. This weekend we were out at the park, it was muggy, we were thirsty, and when I finally got a sprite, I was gulping it down I was so thirsty. I suddenly saw Hayden's eager expression out of the corner of my eye and watched her chubby little fingers grasping for my cup and, well... I couldn't help myself... I let her have a taste.

I know, I know... it's cute the first time, but in a couple months we'll be regretting this move, I'm sure. Last night at dinner, she gave me those puppy dog eyes (I'm a sucker, I know), and I let her have some of my water. She absolutely loved it! No sippy cups for this kid -she just wants the real deal. It's the funniest thing in the world, to watch her try to tackle that cup and suck the water into her mouth, sometimes getting her little tongue in there and lapping at it. Cracks me up!!!

Now that we know she likes soda, I'm going to see what she thinks about straight-up high fructose corn syrup. JUST KIDDING. They advise you to wait until at least 6 months before you give them the hard stuff.

Updated to add:

I just found out I'm not the only "bad mama" out there... I found this post through another blog I read, and it turns out there's a whole slew of mamas that would never, ever do crazy things like me!