Tuesday, June 27, 2006

sleep deprivation taking its toll

Awhile ago I had to write down the date on a form of some kind. I looked at the line and wrote, without hesitation, "Oct. 27, 1983."

And it took me about a minute and a half to even notice my mistake.

Not ready to give in

Awhile ago my two year old was really, really mad at his dad and new sister. He yelled at them, shook his finger at them, and eventually collapsed in a screaming, sobbing heap on the floor.

I picked him up and asked if he wanted to say a prayer to help him feel better. He said yes.

Mommy: "Heavenly Father"

2yrold: "Fadur"

Mommy: "Thank you for home"

2yrold: "Sink oo for om."

Mommy: "Thank you for my family"

2yrold: "Sink oo," [pause][angry voice] "for mommy."

Monday, June 26, 2006

Ways to melt your mommy's heart

The other day I overhead my two year old walking down the hallway. He was holding a picture of the new baby and talking to himself.

"Me bee-bee sister . . ." he was saying. "CUTE!"

At least she's not a vampire

The day my new baby came home from the hospital, my mom and I were home alone with her. She'd just eaten and was trying to burp. But, since she was only two days old, she wasn't very good at burping and was instead making this weird sort of choking/gasping type noise. I was slightly disturbed by the noise, and even more disturbed by the fact that it had been at least 15 seconds since her last breath, but I had to pee, really, really bad. So I handed the baby over to my mom and ran to the bathroom.

Before I could get beyond unbuttoning my pants, though, my mom was screaming.

Now, and this is embarassing, my first thought was, "Woman! What's the matter with you? She can't be dead *yet.*" Because, as we all know, it takes at least three minutes to suffocate.

But she was still screaming. Kind of a lot.

So I grudgingly buttoned my pants back up and walked back to where my mom was.

The sight I saw was kind of disturbing. My mom was holding up my two day old baby and the baby had blood running out of her mouth and down onto her nightgown. Lots of it.

I don't even remember if I went pee because we were both totally freaking out so much that we just rushed out to the car and started for the ER.

When we got there, though, everyone reacted with less than alarm. They looked at the baby. Then they asked to look at my nipples.

"Yeah," they said. "There's no reason to worry. She's not throwing up her own blood. She's throwing up *yours.*"

Which is, in its own way, equally as disturbing.

"Yeah," they said. "This happens all the time."

Which immediately made be wonder 1) Why hadn't I heard of it happening ever before? and 2) Why the punks at the hospital didn't warn me it *could* happen.

They sent us home and told me to use a breastpump until my nipples were less scabby.

Thursday, June 22, 2006

Daddy hold IT!

There's a new hirearchy in our house. Our two year old decides who's the most important to him at any given time. The loser must hold the baby.

Usually I "win" and my two year old points his little finger at me holding the baby and says, "Daddy hold IT!!" (Yes, he calls the baby "it." My husband thinks this reveals his inner feelings about the baby. I think it reveals the fact that my not-yet-very-verbal toddler hasn't figured out pronouns yet. Maybe it's a combination of both.)

But on the few occassions when my toddler decress, "Mommy hold IT!" my husband starts doing this annoying little dance and saying, "yes! I win! I win! yes!"

All very disturbing.

We banished the baby

We had about three days straight were our newborn just screamed and screamed and screamed. I was completely exhausted and depressed because I thought to myself, "well, here's *another* colicky one . . ." Then we discovered a trick: we turned the radio on (really loud) tuned to static and sat her in her chair facing a blank wall. She started cooing and smiling and then fell asleep. The only problem was that the static was SO annoying for the rest of us. So (confession time) we just left her there. We strapped her alone in her chair and let her stare at the blank wall. All day.

When I told my mom this she was horrified. But the kid seemed to like it. Crazy chiquita.

(Thankfully for my mom's sake, we found that the trick works almost as well if we put headphones on her. So she isn't *completely* banished anymore.)

Names of body parts

I was changing my two-year old's diapers one day and he was pointing out all his body parts to me.

"Ear," he said, pointing to his ear.

"Good job, honey!" I said.

"Nose," he said.

"Good job!"

"Eye," he said.

"Good job!"

Then he pointed down to his little penis and frowned. "DON'T TOUCH!" he named it.

I didn't know what to say to that.