The news really sucks lately. Here are some awesome headlines in my local news:
Tahoe woman petitions over concern about coyotes.
You live in the FOREST. Your little rat dog was probably just an appetizer to the coyotes who moved in long before you did. I'm sorry you lost your dog, but come on. Move back to the city.
Man accused of beating woman to death after being denied cigarette.
I will not comment on this story because I'm trying not to swear. And the only words I can use to describe this guy are swear words.
Sparks police arrest man who allegedly shot at officers, partygoers, Sunday morning.
Surprisingly, this man did not actually shoot anyone. It sounds like he put out a hell of an effort, but luckily his aim is about as good as mine.
Police seek suspect who stabbed juvenile in downtown Reno.
Not just any juvenile, a 13-year old. Who was walking with a 14-year old. I'm not going to pass judgement as to why they were in that part of downtown but I will happily pass judgement on the guy who stabbed the kid. Did I add that he stabbed him in the back? Literally. Way to go tough guy, stab an unsuspecting, unarmed kid in the back. Definitely proves your toughness and worth. Hope you got into the gang.
And some people are just plain idiots. Yes, I'm talking about the Balloon Boy hoax. These people sound totally awesome. And sane. And like great parents. "After we get done driving into this tornado with our kids unbuckled in the backseat of our car, let's go home and teach them about lying to the police!" "Great idea, honey!" D-bags.
I also just read about Target's "Illegal alien" costume and how people are outraged over it. It's a COSTUME. Sure, it might be mildly offensive to some people, but it's for Halloween, a time when everyone gets into ridiculous costumes and demands candy. Get over it.
Monday, October 19, 2009
Friday, October 2, 2009
Yes, I have become THAT mother.
Hello old friend. Long time no post. I guess I'll just jump right back in though.
Today is a "day off" for me. Instead of doing the usual catching up on housework I decided that I was long overdue for a trip to a store that I once had a love affair with: Victoria's Secret.
Now, I used to be the girl that would go into VS and grab everything that looked like it might fit me, and flounce off to the fitting room to play dress-up. I'd have salesgirls bring me new sizes, different colors, and compliments before spending way too much money. Apparently that girl is gone. Instead, I have morphed unknowingly into that mom. Which mom you ask? Let me tell you.
I feel I should point out I know exactly what style, size, and color bra I am looking for.
Within 13 seconds of walking in the store I am asked if I need help finding anything. As I peel lacy panties off BBP's bald head and pry them from her fat little first I smile and say "yes, a nanny would be nice" in hopes of getting a smile out of her and not having to pay for the XL panties BBP is now attempting to eat. She gives me a "this lady is craaaazy" look and rushes off to do something, anything, to get away from us. I chase her down and explain exactly what I am looking for.
"Oh, that style is on sale because we're coming out with a new line" she says, smiling sweetly. "Try the bins over on that table."
Yes, searching through bins is JUST what I want to do.
While I dig through stacks of bras I sense someone staring at me in all of my "I didn't get a shower this morning because BBP was up for hours in the middle of the night screaming like a deranged mental patient" glory. I guess looks aren't that deceiving. Just as I get ready to explain that there IS a reason I look like this, I realize it is not my messy hair and glasses she's looking at. She's staring, apparently horrified, at my 3 year old daughter that has successfully put a bra on. Awesome.
In an effort to hurry this expedition along I grab any bra that seems to be within 2 sizes of what I'm looking for. I also convince the annoyed salesgirl to grab a few bras in the size I actually need while I explain to BP that she has at least a few more years (decades) to go until she will be wearing lacy red bras.
Off to the fitting rooms.
"Mommy, that's where your boobies go" BP tells me as I attempt to smush myself into a bra obviously too small.
"MAMAMAMAMAMAMAMA" yells BBP as she desperately signs "milk" and bobs her head up and down, eager to help me try out the functionality (is that a word?) of the bra.
"Can I get you any other sizes?" yells the salesgirl through the door, attempting to drown out the sounds of my children giggling hysterically as they play tug-of-war with a bra.
Now I'm sweating. BP is sulking because I told her she could not try on another bra, BBP is pissed because I took away the granola bar she found in my purse (I would have let them fight over it but there was peanut butter in it, which we haven't tried with BBP yet) and about 2.7 seconds away from a full-out tantrum. She may be small, but her screams are anything but dainty.
This is not quite what I had in mind.
FINALLY. A bra that fits. Who cares if it is the most expensive? I do care a bit that it is completely boring, but hey, it fits.
A handful of panties later we're ready to go. Wait, BBP somehow got ahold of some lingerie and has it wrapped around her neck like a scarf. How did she do that while I was holding her? Oh, yes, The Accomplice. BP's favorite new activity is Get BBP In Trouble. So, instead of trying to prevent her from doing naughty things, she encourages her, apparently by handing her lingerie to fashion into scarves and hats. We definitely need to leave ASAP.
I have bribed the girls into settling down while I pay (I have yet to tell DP what the total damage was even after I convinced the salesgirl I shouldn't have to pay for the chewed-on lingerie..if it was my size, I'd be all for it, heck, I would have handed it to her myself) and all is well until we make it to the car.
"Mommy, I have to go pooooootty."
Hike to the bathroom or let her use the little potty in the back of the car? Yup, that was my child peeing in the middle of the mall parking lot on a training potty.
All's well that ends well.
Today is a "day off" for me. Instead of doing the usual catching up on housework I decided that I was long overdue for a trip to a store that I once had a love affair with: Victoria's Secret.
Now, I used to be the girl that would go into VS and grab everything that looked like it might fit me, and flounce off to the fitting room to play dress-up. I'd have salesgirls bring me new sizes, different colors, and compliments before spending way too much money. Apparently that girl is gone. Instead, I have morphed unknowingly into that mom. Which mom you ask? Let me tell you.
I feel I should point out I know exactly what style, size, and color bra I am looking for.
Within 13 seconds of walking in the store I am asked if I need help finding anything. As I peel lacy panties off BBP's bald head and pry them from her fat little first I smile and say "yes, a nanny would be nice" in hopes of getting a smile out of her and not having to pay for the XL panties BBP is now attempting to eat. She gives me a "this lady is craaaazy" look and rushes off to do something, anything, to get away from us. I chase her down and explain exactly what I am looking for.
"Oh, that style is on sale because we're coming out with a new line" she says, smiling sweetly. "Try the bins over on that table."
Yes, searching through bins is JUST what I want to do.
While I dig through stacks of bras I sense someone staring at me in all of my "I didn't get a shower this morning because BBP was up for hours in the middle of the night screaming like a deranged mental patient" glory. I guess looks aren't that deceiving. Just as I get ready to explain that there IS a reason I look like this, I realize it is not my messy hair and glasses she's looking at. She's staring, apparently horrified, at my 3 year old daughter that has successfully put a bra on. Awesome.
In an effort to hurry this expedition along I grab any bra that seems to be within 2 sizes of what I'm looking for. I also convince the annoyed salesgirl to grab a few bras in the size I actually need while I explain to BP that she has at least a few more years (decades) to go until she will be wearing lacy red bras.
Off to the fitting rooms.
"Mommy, that's where your boobies go" BP tells me as I attempt to smush myself into a bra obviously too small.
"MAMAMAMAMAMAMAMA" yells BBP as she desperately signs "milk" and bobs her head up and down, eager to help me try out the functionality (is that a word?) of the bra.
"Can I get you any other sizes?" yells the salesgirl through the door, attempting to drown out the sounds of my children giggling hysterically as they play tug-of-war with a bra.
Now I'm sweating. BP is sulking because I told her she could not try on another bra, BBP is pissed because I took away the granola bar she found in my purse (I would have let them fight over it but there was peanut butter in it, which we haven't tried with BBP yet) and about 2.7 seconds away from a full-out tantrum. She may be small, but her screams are anything but dainty.
This is not quite what I had in mind.
FINALLY. A bra that fits. Who cares if it is the most expensive? I do care a bit that it is completely boring, but hey, it fits.
A handful of panties later we're ready to go. Wait, BBP somehow got ahold of some lingerie and has it wrapped around her neck like a scarf. How did she do that while I was holding her? Oh, yes, The Accomplice. BP's favorite new activity is Get BBP In Trouble. So, instead of trying to prevent her from doing naughty things, she encourages her, apparently by handing her lingerie to fashion into scarves and hats. We definitely need to leave ASAP.
I have bribed the girls into settling down while I pay (I have yet to tell DP what the total damage was even after I convinced the salesgirl I shouldn't have to pay for the chewed-on lingerie..if it was my size, I'd be all for it, heck, I would have handed it to her myself) and all is well until we make it to the car.
"Mommy, I have to go pooooootty."
Hike to the bathroom or let her use the little potty in the back of the car? Yup, that was my child peeing in the middle of the mall parking lot on a training potty.
All's well that ends well.
Friday, May 8, 2009
Sensory Overload.
Lately DP and I have been struggling with BP and, at times, I get so overwhelmed with the information I am consuming that I forget the real little girl under all the labels.
BP is bright, funny, smart, witty, stubborn, beautiful, silly, opinionated, sweet, and an awesome big sister. She makes us laugh when she delights in the little things that make the world go round. She sweetly brings us flowers she picked from the yard, only to demand that we don't touch them and especially not let little sis touch them. She sings songs, colors pictures, and begs to read books. She drives us crazy saying she "looks soooo saaaaad" whenever we tell her no. She has special things that she only wants to do with daddy-wrestling, hiding under the covers, and she loves to go to work with him while he studies on the weekends. Even through her charming personality we can see her inner confusion with the world.
BP appears to struggle with sensory processing disorder/sensory integration dysfunction. Some days are fine. Others, not so much. BP is terrified of bathroom fans and any other fan-type noise. She just recently got over her fear of swinging. She doesn't like to play with other kids, unless, of course, it's her best friend or my daycare child. It took insane amounts of coaxing, bribing, and reasoning to get her to fingerpaint. New situations send her into a panic. If she has had a bad sensory day we are almost guaranteed a night-waking full of screams and panic. Yet, with all these quirks, she still appears "normal" to the average innocent bystander.
During her two assessments BP showed off her talents stringing beads, building tall block towers, and doing puzzles. She loved showing off how smart she is and was thrilled to be the center of attention. Of course, it took half of our session just to get her to stop hiding behind me, but overall, she did amazing. This was both a proud-mommy moment and a "well, now what?" moment. Her testing shows that her sensory defensiveness is not affecting (effecting?) her ability to learn. That is great news..until you throw her in a classroom setting and she melts down, hides, refuses to participate, and is terrified in general.
This is the battle I fight. Do I burst with pride knowing that in most areas of development my baby girl is well above average? Yes. Do I worry that her social/emotional skill level is way below average? Yes. Do I obsessively read, research, and harrass anyone who I think can help me? Yes. Do I get completely overwhelmed by information, or sometimes the lackthereof? Yes. Do I love my child completely, regardless of her ability to exasperate me to no end? YES.
And now I must say farewell and so long. It is time to call our service coordinator with yet another question.
BP is bright, funny, smart, witty, stubborn, beautiful, silly, opinionated, sweet, and an awesome big sister. She makes us laugh when she delights in the little things that make the world go round. She sweetly brings us flowers she picked from the yard, only to demand that we don't touch them and especially not let little sis touch them. She sings songs, colors pictures, and begs to read books. She drives us crazy saying she "looks soooo saaaaad" whenever we tell her no. She has special things that she only wants to do with daddy-wrestling, hiding under the covers, and she loves to go to work with him while he studies on the weekends. Even through her charming personality we can see her inner confusion with the world.
BP appears to struggle with sensory processing disorder/sensory integration dysfunction. Some days are fine. Others, not so much. BP is terrified of bathroom fans and any other fan-type noise. She just recently got over her fear of swinging. She doesn't like to play with other kids, unless, of course, it's her best friend or my daycare child. It took insane amounts of coaxing, bribing, and reasoning to get her to fingerpaint. New situations send her into a panic. If she has had a bad sensory day we are almost guaranteed a night-waking full of screams and panic. Yet, with all these quirks, she still appears "normal" to the average innocent bystander.
During her two assessments BP showed off her talents stringing beads, building tall block towers, and doing puzzles. She loved showing off how smart she is and was thrilled to be the center of attention. Of course, it took half of our session just to get her to stop hiding behind me, but overall, she did amazing. This was both a proud-mommy moment and a "well, now what?" moment. Her testing shows that her sensory defensiveness is not affecting (effecting?) her ability to learn. That is great news..until you throw her in a classroom setting and she melts down, hides, refuses to participate, and is terrified in general.
This is the battle I fight. Do I burst with pride knowing that in most areas of development my baby girl is well above average? Yes. Do I worry that her social/emotional skill level is way below average? Yes. Do I obsessively read, research, and harrass anyone who I think can help me? Yes. Do I get completely overwhelmed by information, or sometimes the lackthereof? Yes. Do I love my child completely, regardless of her ability to exasperate me to no end? YES.
And now I must say farewell and so long. It is time to call our service coordinator with yet another question.
Friday, April 17, 2009
mayhem.
I am a shopping cart putter-backer. I will take my cart back to the corral, the front of the store, to the cart pusher guy, rain or shine. I choose a parking spot based on how close it is to the cart thingy. There are few things that annoy me more than starting to pull into a parking spot only to find some lazy dumbass has left a cart there. I have been known to not only hike my own cart back to the store (with two kids in it), but take the extra one that the person two parking spots away left resting against the nice little old lady's car. I mean, really, how lazy can you get? Anyway.
I went grocery shopping this week with both girls in the freezing cold. Yes, I realize it's mid-April, but the weather doesn't. It snowed this week. So, there I am, putting the girls in their carseats, trying to fit all the grocery bags in behind the third row, and this kind grandpa-looking man comes up to me. He tells me my kids are beautiful (as they are screeching in their seats) and takes my cart as I lift the last bag out. This man made my day. The simple gesture of taking my cart, along with his, back to the cart thingymabobber, made my day. Not even the jackass that sent his cart into the side of my car as I was buckling BP in could ruin my newfound good mood.
So, this is a (sincere) public thank-you to the nice man that put my cart back for me. Thank you sir, for not only taking my cart, but giving me a genuine smile and wishing me a good evening.
I went grocery shopping this week with both girls in the freezing cold. Yes, I realize it's mid-April, but the weather doesn't. It snowed this week. So, there I am, putting the girls in their carseats, trying to fit all the grocery bags in behind the third row, and this kind grandpa-looking man comes up to me. He tells me my kids are beautiful (as they are screeching in their seats) and takes my cart as I lift the last bag out. This man made my day. The simple gesture of taking my cart, along with his, back to the cart thingymabobber, made my day. Not even the jackass that sent his cart into the side of my car as I was buckling BP in could ruin my newfound good mood.
So, this is a (sincere) public thank-you to the nice man that put my cart back for me. Thank you sir, for not only taking my cart, but giving me a genuine smile and wishing me a good evening.
Monday, April 6, 2009
The Hills
Much to DP's dismay, I'm a Hills fan. I will admit it. I watch The Hills. Now, I don't watch it Monday nights, but I catch it during nap time. Or online. Or both. Lucky for me, there's a marathon on right now.
A few things.
Heidi. Seriously, come on honey. Can you not see how awful Spencer is? He's a complete jackass. And totally creepy looking. Like I wouldn't be surprised if he ended up being a serial killer.
Heidi's mom. I would totally hire a hit man if my daughter ever dated someone like Spencer, let alone got engaged. I would cry every.single.day.
Lo. You suck. Go away.
Audrina. Stop f'ing around with Justin. He sucks. Not as much as Spencer, but he still sucks. Big time. "Chemistry" only gets you into bed, not into a real relationship. Bring back the Aussie!
Stephanie. You scare me.
I could go on, but nap time will soon be over and there is sunshine to be had outside.
I do look forward to the new season though..bring on the fake drama!
A few things.
Heidi. Seriously, come on honey. Can you not see how awful Spencer is? He's a complete jackass. And totally creepy looking. Like I wouldn't be surprised if he ended up being a serial killer.
Heidi's mom. I would totally hire a hit man if my daughter ever dated someone like Spencer, let alone got engaged. I would cry every.single.day.
Lo. You suck. Go away.
Audrina. Stop f'ing around with Justin. He sucks. Not as much as Spencer, but he still sucks. Big time. "Chemistry" only gets you into bed, not into a real relationship. Bring back the Aussie!
Stephanie. You scare me.
I could go on, but nap time will soon be over and there is sunshine to be had outside.
I do look forward to the new season though..bring on the fake drama!
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
The Perfect Day
Today has not been a perfect day. BP was in our bed all night because her coughing woke BBP up 4 times before 9pm. BBP started her day at 6am. Kid #3 woke BBP up from her morning nap with his crying. BP was as ornery as ever. Dishes piled up. Nothing made anyone happy. I wanted to get OUT.. where, I'm not picky, just ouuuuutta here..didn't happen. So, I find myself daydreaming about The Perfect Day.
The Perfect Day would start with both children sleeping in their own beds until 7am. BBP can wake her usual amount of times, but 7am sounds like heaven. All four of us would get semi-dressed, dogs would be let out, and we'd head up the hill to Truckee Bagel. Mmmm....pacific sunrise on combo with smoked cheddar please. Might even have to splurge for a coffee or hot chocolate. After breakfast we're back home to feed the dogs before taking them on a walk. BBP wouldn't cry in the stroller. Linus wouldn't try to eat any rat dogs. I'm not asking for major, life-changing events here, am I?
Hmm...what next. How about taking the kids to The Playroom? Or, if it's warm enough, the park. Either one. I'm not picky.
Lunch. Why not go for some good ol' fashion Daddy Sammiches all around. Excluding BBP, of course. Yes. PB&J, maybe some lemonade, cut up fruit...it's a meal.
NAP. Yes. Nap. Group nap time. The girls would go down without a fight and DP and I could snuggle for 2.5 seconds before crashing. Oh how nice that sounds.
After a quick snack we'd head out to the backyard to play catch, chase the imaginary dragon, and "play play play" to our hearts' content.
And apparently that is the end of The Perfect Day because BBP is yelling. YELLING would be more descriptive.
The Perfect Day would start with both children sleeping in their own beds until 7am. BBP can wake her usual amount of times, but 7am sounds like heaven. All four of us would get semi-dressed, dogs would be let out, and we'd head up the hill to Truckee Bagel. Mmmm....pacific sunrise on combo with smoked cheddar please. Might even have to splurge for a coffee or hot chocolate. After breakfast we're back home to feed the dogs before taking them on a walk. BBP wouldn't cry in the stroller. Linus wouldn't try to eat any rat dogs. I'm not asking for major, life-changing events here, am I?
Hmm...what next. How about taking the kids to The Playroom? Or, if it's warm enough, the park. Either one. I'm not picky.
Lunch. Why not go for some good ol' fashion Daddy Sammiches all around. Excluding BBP, of course. Yes. PB&J, maybe some lemonade, cut up fruit...it's a meal.
NAP. Yes. Nap. Group nap time. The girls would go down without a fight and DP and I could snuggle for 2.5 seconds before crashing. Oh how nice that sounds.
After a quick snack we'd head out to the backyard to play catch, chase the imaginary dragon, and "play play play" to our hearts' content.
And apparently that is the end of The Perfect Day because BBP is yelling. YELLING would be more descriptive.
Monday, March 30, 2009
Thank You Notes
My mother, wise woman that she is, always made us write thank-you notes. Which usually resulted in us getting "thank you for thanking me" type cards from random far-flung relatives, thus resulting in more thank you notes. As torturous as I found this process at the time, I feel that she had a good point. It is important to say thank you. And I am a bit behind on my thank-you notes these days, so I figured I might as well post them for the world to see. Perhaps that will make up for the delay.
Dear Neighbor,
I really appreciate the fact that you park your 1987 Toyota in front of my house almost daily. The oil that it leaks all over the street adds character, and I'm sure value, to my home. I am so thankful that you park it in front of my house rather than your own. I also wanted to thank you for your church guests (yes, I know you are running a church out of your house) parking in front of my driveway twice a week. I feel that I must add that I thoroughly enjoy church days; not only is my driveway blocked, but I can tell the time by just looking out my front window.. those take-your-kids-out-front-to-smoke breaks really help me keep time. And, speaking of smoking, what would I do without the cigarette butts in my yard? Again, curb appeal. Thank you.
Not very sincerely,
your pissed off neighbor
Dear People Driving in Front of me in the Parking Lot the Other Day,
I just wanted to take a minute to say thank you for making me realize that I am indeed a good parent. Not only do I buckle my seat belt every time I get in the car (yes, I realize you do this, too), but I also buckle my children into their properly-installed carseats (much UNlike you do). I was having a bad day when I pulled in behind you, so thank you for cheering me up. It's good to be reminded every once in a while that I AM a good parent. Thanks again!
Not very sincerely,
The Carseat Police
Dear Mullet-Fabulous,
I just wanted to drop you a quick note to say thank you for making me laugh my ass off in the middle of grocery shopping. Your amazing style took my breath away. I absolutely love how you paired the cut-off jeans with socks, sandals, and a wife beater. Thank you for making grocery shopping a little more amusing.
Not so sincerely,
your fellow shopper
Dear Dipshit in the Tiny Car,
Thank you so much for taking not one, but two parking spots this morning in the pediatrician's parking lot with your quite miniscule car. I commend you on your driving abilities. You succesfully parked in over 20% of the total number of parking spots in a busy lot. Impressive. Thanks to a carseat-free interior (and slightly guilty look as I ranted to the secretaries about you) I was able to come to the conclusion that you were the high school student sitting in the corner of the waiting area glaring at the cowering children. So, I also feel the need to thank you for staring at my chest while I was picking up spilled toys. Thanks for making my morning just a bit easier.
Not so sincerely,
the quite happily married person attached to the boobs you were staring at
Dear Neighbor,
I really appreciate the fact that you park your 1987 Toyota in front of my house almost daily. The oil that it leaks all over the street adds character, and I'm sure value, to my home. I am so thankful that you park it in front of my house rather than your own. I also wanted to thank you for your church guests (yes, I know you are running a church out of your house) parking in front of my driveway twice a week. I feel that I must add that I thoroughly enjoy church days; not only is my driveway blocked, but I can tell the time by just looking out my front window.. those take-your-kids-out-front-to-smoke breaks really help me keep time. And, speaking of smoking, what would I do without the cigarette butts in my yard? Again, curb appeal. Thank you.
Not very sincerely,
your pissed off neighbor
Dear People Driving in Front of me in the Parking Lot the Other Day,
I just wanted to take a minute to say thank you for making me realize that I am indeed a good parent. Not only do I buckle my seat belt every time I get in the car (yes, I realize you do this, too), but I also buckle my children into their properly-installed carseats (much UNlike you do). I was having a bad day when I pulled in behind you, so thank you for cheering me up. It's good to be reminded every once in a while that I AM a good parent. Thanks again!
Not very sincerely,
The Carseat Police
Dear Mullet-Fabulous,
I just wanted to drop you a quick note to say thank you for making me laugh my ass off in the middle of grocery shopping. Your amazing style took my breath away. I absolutely love how you paired the cut-off jeans with socks, sandals, and a wife beater. Thank you for making grocery shopping a little more amusing.
Not so sincerely,
your fellow shopper
Dear Dipshit in the Tiny Car,
Thank you so much for taking not one, but two parking spots this morning in the pediatrician's parking lot with your quite miniscule car. I commend you on your driving abilities. You succesfully parked in over 20% of the total number of parking spots in a busy lot. Impressive. Thanks to a carseat-free interior (and slightly guilty look as I ranted to the secretaries about you) I was able to come to the conclusion that you were the high school student sitting in the corner of the waiting area glaring at the cowering children. So, I also feel the need to thank you for staring at my chest while I was picking up spilled toys. Thanks for making my morning just a bit easier.
Not so sincerely,
the quite happily married person attached to the boobs you were staring at
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Expert Advice.
In our quest to get more than 1-2 hours of sleep in a row, DP and I have asked many people many questions. The expert advice? Not helpful. My top picks:
1. "Just deal with it, she'll eventually grow out of it." As opposed to what? Tossing her out the window? Putting her in the mailbox with a "return to sender" sticker?
2. "Let her cry." Sorry, not my style. Oh, wait, you say the same thing again after I tell you I'm not comfortable with that approach? Yes, now I will listen. Thanks.
3. "Put her down drowsy but awake." And this well help her stay asleep how? Oh, that's right, it won't. I didn't ask how to get her to sleep, I asked how to get her to STAY asleep.
4. "Read the books." I am trying to find a self-proclaimed "sleep expert" to come live with us for a few months, so far none will agree. They can write the books, I can read the books, yet BBP just isn't on the same page as us. Or anyone, for that matter. Well, perhaps a crack addict?
5. "I'm sure she sleeps more than that." You're right. I'm making it up. She sleeps like a champ. The sleep log I did for 3 days was all a lie. I made it up. Just for fun. BBP sleeps so darn much that I just have to find ways to fill the time. Sorry for asking.
1. "Just deal with it, she'll eventually grow out of it." As opposed to what? Tossing her out the window? Putting her in the mailbox with a "return to sender" sticker?
2. "Let her cry." Sorry, not my style. Oh, wait, you say the same thing again after I tell you I'm not comfortable with that approach? Yes, now I will listen. Thanks.
3. "Put her down drowsy but awake." And this well help her stay asleep how? Oh, that's right, it won't. I didn't ask how to get her to sleep, I asked how to get her to STAY asleep.
4. "Read the books." I am trying to find a self-proclaimed "sleep expert" to come live with us for a few months, so far none will agree. They can write the books, I can read the books, yet BBP just isn't on the same page as us. Or anyone, for that matter. Well, perhaps a crack addict?
5. "I'm sure she sleeps more than that." You're right. I'm making it up. She sleeps like a champ. The sleep log I did for 3 days was all a lie. I made it up. Just for fun. BBP sleeps so darn much that I just have to find ways to fill the time. Sorry for asking.
Monday, March 16, 2009
Hello, my friend.
Wow. Here I sit, many months since my last post. Even though I have been awake for about 90% of BBP's life, I have no idea where the time went. Okay, that's a lie. I know just where the time has gone. It has been spent in doctor's offices, pushing through crowds at DisneyLand, sitting in waiting rooms at doctor's offices, pacing the floors at 3am with sick children, snuggling in the Big Bed, exam rooms at doctor's offices, building forts with blankets, re-arranging the playroom multiple times to accomodate more toys, and on hold with pediatric nurses. Yet is still seems that it was weeks ago that we first introduced BP to her baby sister.
So, what else has happened in the last six-ish months? The economy tanked. We went to Six Flags, apnea monitor and all. Grandparents visited. Santa Claus dropped by. We made a last-minute road trip to DisneyLand. Daddypants went back to school. I started running again. The dogs ate an insane amount of tumbleweeds. All in all, life has happened. But, most recently, I have been trying not to stress about recent medical events. That's another story though.
Now that I have spent a good amount of time in various doctor's offices I have some advice to offer.
Don't be the parent that lets your child run wild in the waiting room. I know it sucks waiting for an hour, but that doesn't make it okay for your sick, snot-nosed child to poke my sick, snot-nosed baby in the eye. If your child is at melt-down point, that's fine, we've all been there, but it is NOT okay for your to be completely oblivious to the fact that your child is driving everyone crazy. Even a "I'm sorry little Johnny is wiping snot on your purse, we've been here a long time and he missed his nap" will help.
Toys. Always have toys. And crayons. If you smile and ask nicely, I'm betting the receptionist would be happy to give you a blank piece of paper from the printer. Especially if the alternative is hearing your toddler whine "I so ssaaaaaaaaad" a million times.
Snacks. Sometimes you just need a bribe.
Clean up after your child. Even better, have your child clean up. That stack of pamphlets that got knocked over? Pick it up. Otherwise someone else has to. And it will most likely be me. And after I've cleaned up after your child and s/he once again knocks them on the floor, you had better get your lazy ass up and not only clean up the mess but discipline your child for doing it on purpose.
Get off the f'ing phone. Seriously. No wonder why your child is halfway out the door. Interact with your most likely sick and miserable child. It will help with the whole knock-shit-on-the-floor thing.
Just a few things to keep in mind next time you are waiting.
So, what else has happened in the last six-ish months? The economy tanked. We went to Six Flags, apnea monitor and all. Grandparents visited. Santa Claus dropped by. We made a last-minute road trip to DisneyLand. Daddypants went back to school. I started running again. The dogs ate an insane amount of tumbleweeds. All in all, life has happened. But, most recently, I have been trying not to stress about recent medical events. That's another story though.
Now that I have spent a good amount of time in various doctor's offices I have some advice to offer.
Don't be the parent that lets your child run wild in the waiting room. I know it sucks waiting for an hour, but that doesn't make it okay for your sick, snot-nosed child to poke my sick, snot-nosed baby in the eye. If your child is at melt-down point, that's fine, we've all been there, but it is NOT okay for your to be completely oblivious to the fact that your child is driving everyone crazy. Even a "I'm sorry little Johnny is wiping snot on your purse, we've been here a long time and he missed his nap" will help.
Toys. Always have toys. And crayons. If you smile and ask nicely, I'm betting the receptionist would be happy to give you a blank piece of paper from the printer. Especially if the alternative is hearing your toddler whine "I so ssaaaaaaaaad" a million times.
Snacks. Sometimes you just need a bribe.
Clean up after your child. Even better, have your child clean up. That stack of pamphlets that got knocked over? Pick it up. Otherwise someone else has to. And it will most likely be me. And after I've cleaned up after your child and s/he once again knocks them on the floor, you had better get your lazy ass up and not only clean up the mess but discipline your child for doing it on purpose.
Get off the f'ing phone. Seriously. No wonder why your child is halfway out the door. Interact with your most likely sick and miserable child. It will help with the whole knock-shit-on-the-floor thing.
Just a few things to keep in mind next time you are waiting.
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