Bones

Back in May, Girl 1 fell off her scooter on afternoon (wearing a helmet - a nonnegotiable) and cried and cried and cried right after it happened. We put some ice on it, propped her wrist and hand on a pillow, but she could move it and it wasn't swollen. So dr soc and I thought she was just being extra with all her 'life is over' and she 'was never going to have any fun again,' over and over that I rolled my eyes and told my sister it was a bit much. 

But because she really was going on and on about the pain, I told her if it still hurt that bad after dinner we would go to urgent care. When I asked if she still wanted to go, she nodded her head. Considering how much she fights me on most health things this should have tipped me off that something was wrong, but we still didn't think it was broken. We get to urgent care, tell them what happened, and the PA does some looking and feeling around, and says we need an X-ray. And then I look at her wrists and when you compare them yeah you can see one was swollen. Shit.

We get the X-ray and go back to the exam room to wait. I hear someone say 'it's broken' out in the hall, and I made an educated guess they were referring to us due to the fact there we were one of the only two patients there and the only one who just got an X-ray. And yup, a few minutes later they come in and tell us "it's broken' just like I heard in the hall. 

My girl broke down in tears along with my heart. She started to apologize which we quickly told her she had nothing to apologize for, it was an accident and it was not her fault in any way. I text dr soc with the results and we both feel like such assholes for thinking she was being a drama queen. Urgent care wraps her wrist in a temporary cast and we come home both emotionally worn down. 

We give her a little treat and some Tylenol for the pain, and then start getting her ready for bed. By now it's more than an hour past bedtime, not that Girl 2 was even trying to sleep. She escaped her room for her nightly avoid bedtime drink of water and to give Girl 1 to give a kiss goodnight.  Girl 2 adores her big sister, so when she saw this: 

temporary cast from urgent care

 She did this:

toilet paper roll

to match. 

A few days later Girl 1 got her purple cast and we had a truly lovely day together just her and me. And the break was clean and small so she only had to have it the cast on for 5 weeks too.  

some of our shenanigans

So yeah, the initial event that started it all sucked and mom and dad felt like assholes, but at least there was some cute news in there too. 

Life doings

So. My last mommy blog (okay, last blog in general tbh) in while was when girl 2 turned 3...almost a year ago now. So. Girl 1 has had a 21-22 year! She

Started kindergarten. First day!

Y'all I blinked! (no tears (from both of us) either!) 

Turned 6 with a princess party.

Thanks to our surprise guest Arial for making her princess party the talk of her class 

Broke her wrist. She fell off her scooter onto the sidewalk mid-May. Stay tuned for another blog on why dr soc and I are assholes. 

The cast came off in June so no more summer cast

And 'graduated' kindergarten and is first grade bound!

Y'all I blinked again!
(mom tears at this one, no lie)

Not to mention made new friends, started (and finished) gymnastics (the broken wrist put the kibosh on that), she's reading out loud to us now, went to a princess concert, and wants to be a ballerina when she grows up, amongst other life doings. She loves wearing dresses and is our little fashionista too. Physically she's small for her age just like her mom was, but she's healthy and growing on her curve.  She drives me crazy at times, but she is also one of the most sweet, most empathetic little human I've even met. And as cliché as it is, she really is growing up so incredible fast! 

Face your fears

God I hate that trope. Because my 5 year old is fearful of pretty much everything and will face absolutely nothing. It's not this cute little aww she's just shy sort of thing. It's a full force whiney cry and inability to function fear of...whatever it is. In the blink of an eye she has gone from 0 to 100 and once she's in that state there isn't a damn thing anyone can do to get her off that ledge.

The worst panic tantrums are always health/body related. Brushing her teeth. Trimming her talons nails. Performing basic body functions of going to the bathroom. When I start looking for Neosporin and or a band aid for her. Any medicine. Telling her we have to remove a splinter that she has said "it hurts!"      

Yes these are real fears to her and I want to respect that so she can work through them. I do. But sometimes we don't have time (or energy) to work through something, or there aren't any other options to give. It's very frustrating when whatever fear has been carrying on for a while and absolutely no effort has been made, especially if there isn't an alternative. And tbh once she's on that ledge her only option is complete obstinance so any amount of time or alternative is a moot point. 

For example, she'd rather let a gaping wound heal 'on it's own' but down the road that gaping wound leaves a scar she's distraught over that. And yes we told her she could have a scar but that won't change her mind in her fear tantrum. Or when she had an ear infection and she had to take medicine, and because there are no other options we had to force her to take it which we know isn't the right way but it had to be the way at that moment because we are not going to let your ear rot and fall off simple because she is too chicken shit to take the yummy medicine.

Yeah a part of me feels not great talking smack about my kid, but when she's being a jerk can we call a spade a spade here? But also I don't want her to miss out on things because she was to scared to even try. At a birthday party everyone ran across the room for something and she refused for some reason. So the rest of the party moved on without her, and she broke down in tears because she was hurt. And yeah it sucked to see her upset, but at the same time she has to learn sometimes the world is not going to wait.  

What it comes down to is that I'm just frustrated and I wish I knew the answer like before I had children.   

Mom worry

 

This one’s peanut allergy has gone down!! Girl 2 is still allergic, but her reaction was significantly less than the last time we tested her. Such wonderful news, but even more so after yesterday’s diagnosis.

There will always be part of me that that worries about my kids. It’s impossible to turn off the mom worry. But not having to worry as much about her allergy is a relief. Getting the test was no picnic, she threw a massive tantrum when getting tested. Not that I blame her, your back got all pricked up and it itches like hell and the only thing you want to do is put your princess shirt back on but you can’t figure it out yourself and mommy isn’t helping that bitch. I totally get it. And as far as her speech delay goes, even though she’s not saying * as many words as she should at this age, I know she knows things. She can count 1 - 10, but she can recognize some of those the numbers* and point them out. 

*how’s me, the most talkative person in the world, having a speech delayed kid for irony? 

*she just correctly pointed to ‘for fucks’ on a number puzzle. Four frogs in the number four. See? She knows!

Oh darling girl, you are who you are and mommy loves you so much no matter what. 

Process

Girl 2 is speech delayed. We’ll be starting speech therapy for her in the near future and work on getting her caught up.  So what does that mean exactly? 

It means...I’m processing it.  I mean...it’s not a bad thing. She’s healthy and happy and a joyful little girl. But it’s unexpected, so it still hurts a little you know? And no parent wants this, an additional difficulty. Kids are who they are and you love them fiercely regardless. But being a parent is hard and worrisome enough on it's own, so another challenge, no matter how manageable, is something to deal with.

I think deep down she’s going to be fine.  Being able to socialize safely again and being around kids her own age will probably help her development as well. Parenting is just...a loooooooong game and here’s something else to wrestle.

So. I’m processing. 

Irony 2.0

The irony of  Girl 1 fighting me tooth and nail on her teeth* and nails is not lost on me.

*you may recall the teeth fight of 2020. Currently that war is at a lull but her checkup in December involved crying so her upcoming June appointment I don't know.

Now that she is a mature 5 year old the irony is this: The hill my child will die on is anything health related. 

• She will not take medicine, topical or internal. 
• She will not listen to her body for the bathroom.
• She will not blow her nose despite being unable to breath due to snot blockage or a river flowing from her nose 
• Refuses band aids and screams about any blood getting on anything and everything from refusing to cover it
• When she found out she had to go to the doctor because she mentioned to daddy her ear hurt, she said "I wish I hadn't said anything."*
• *This one actually worries me because I know she had to be hurting long and hard enough for her to even mentioned it. I don't want her to be afraid to say anything, ever. 
• Going to the doctor or dentist with her requires an iron will, Olympic sized bribes that never ever work which result to physically restraining her*
• *because that doesn't traumatize her at all and won't lead directly to the aforementioned fear of her being afraid to tell me anything.*
• *and that leads me to sobbing into my drink because OMG I hate that struggle so much and I do not know what to do so I cope by drinking and sobbing and questioning my entire ability of being a mom.

Uhhh, yeah. The irony here is that my child is willing to literally die on the health hill. Yeah.      

Extremes

Get this: parenting is HARD. Like, soul crushing questioning your entire being day drinking hard. And the pandemic has made that...obvious. And with the girls...there is no middle ground. It’s seems I can only reach the extremes of the emotional spectrum with them. Yes I love them more than than I ever thought possible, so much that my heart will burst. Then 12 minutes (give or take) later, be exasperated with them more than I ever thought was humanly possible.

For example, when Dr Soc has his laser* eyes** put in.

*I am always disappointed laser is not lazer 

**permanent contacts. Not lasik, lazer eyes sound cooler.

Girl 1 was so incredibly empathetic I welled up a bit. She was determined to serve daddy dinner in bed, but since we were having soup she asked him if he wanted me to carry it up on a tray or if he wanted to come downstairs (he chose the latter). So she claimed the last cookie for him. Then when she went to use the bathroom she told him to not look in that direction and when she was turning the lights on/off because he was so sensitive to light (they dilated the fuck out of him and he was hilariously all pupil for 2 days). That entire evening she was incredibly helpful and so gentle and just a great little human. Then the next morning we went to the dentist and she wouldn’t open her mouth and if I hadn’t been getting my own teeth cleaned at the time I would have spit nails.

And girl 2 is...TWO. Adamant in what she wants but can’t articulate it, morphing into a flailing banshee trying to communicate ratcheting my anxiety to an 11. But then she snuggles and cuddles you with pure affection and we’re all laughing with joy.

I know they are both just acting their age and doing the best they can with some BIG emotions. As the grown up I’m the safe space for them to recognize whatever feelings they have and figure out how to cope so they don’t become emotionally stunted adults. It’s just...so, so, so sooooooooooooo...hard

Dentist Drama Season Finale

So. The drama continued and concluded the following way:

- Stayed home from the babysitter all week and fell asleep on the bathroom floor for 3 nights, waiting us me out on the mouthwash. So we I conceded that loss. Then cried over my failure while simultaneously impressed at her ferocity. 

- Called our dentist (the one who discovered the cavities) and asked if they would sedate her. The answer: no, they only sedate adults. 

- Took her to a third (in network pediatric) dentist, who confirmed she had cavities, but, surprise! in obstinate 4 year old fashion wouldn't let the dentist actually do anything in their really* cool office. So we made plans to sedate - because it had to get done. In 3 weeks because that's the fist appointment we could get at the dental surgery center.

*I mean for fuck's sake they had a tv mounted on the ceiling and you could pick what tv show you wanted to watch! What the hell kid? This place is awesome!

- Rearranged my work schedule. Again. 

- Continued no treats (except special occasions like mommy's birthday cake).

- Took her to the pediatrician* to get her cleared to have general anesthesia.

*not sure if I'm slightly ashamed or proud that I impressed the pediatrician with my 4 year old wrangling/hog tying skills...  

- And this morning: we sedated. She managed to spit* out the relaxation syrup (yeah, sedation to sedate her) twice.

*once again unsure if  I should be impressed or ashamed 

But when they wheeled her bed back to anesthesiology and I couldn't go with her...my tiny, beautiful girl, I just...mom worry. But less than an hour later she was done and I could see her. She was cranky when she woke up from the anesthesia, but also, that's just my girl. At least now her cavities are fixed! We came home, watched tv, and got panera lunch. We're done! 

- Right. Not done. Because tonight she didn't want to brush those damn teeth causing all this drama because they felt funny but also refused to take any pain medicine for that. So I noped it and walked away. Because no. Just no. I'm done with this drama. Tonight at least. 

And this concludes our 2020 cavity drama theater.  

Dentist Drama

The excitement of Girl 1's first no crying successful* dentist visit was quickly tempered by the discovery of cavities. So a week later we go back to fill them and...nope. Reverted right back to the shrinking/wailing/terrified kid that we had to be referred to a pediatric** dentist. And when we went to that dentist she was even more terrified and screamed even worse, so the only treatment she received was a heavy fluoride treatment and was told to start using a mouthwash. When we go back to the not in network pediatric dentist in 3 months we have to hope that stopped them from growing, otherwise we have to put her under to treat her. All for teeth that she's going to lose eventually anyway. *cries*    

*Both visits prior she shrank into herself (and she's already pretty small) and wailed so much the dentist couldn't do anything in order not to traumatize her. 

**That's not in network. Of course not.

At least the mouthwash would be an easy enough stopgap measure right? *cackle* Fuck NO. The rigmarole at the dentists pales to the tantrums we've endured the past 3 weeks. My daughter fought me tooth and nail on her teeth...and nails* when she was a toddler and it's so. much. worse now.

*yeah, I know. The irony is not lost on me.

We have tried everything: No treats. No screen time. No puzzle with Grandma. We'll get her a Frozen II bed. No berry picking. Bribes. Go out for ice cream. Promises of Panera. Hugs. Kisses. Soothing tones. Screaming. Offering to do it with her. No Stories. Extra Stories. Walking away. And the one we thought would do it: No going to the babysitter's.  

Sunday night I sorta hog tied her with one arm and threw the mouthwash in her mouth while she thrashes and screamed with my other arm. Which went as well as it sounds. Monday night I told her she couldn't leave the bathroom until she did the mouthwash. She was begging to go to her bed (an entirely different battle for another blog for another day) and held on for an hour and a half before falling asleep on the bathroom floor. I was equal parts highly impressed at her ferocious tenacity and completely mortified she was asleep on the bathroom floor. 

 

So I don't know what to do. I don't know how to motivate her. I don't know her it seems. I never say the right things. I can't calm her down. I want to be a positive parent rather than a punitive one. I want to know what to do to help my girl. And I know this takes work but I wish it wasn't so fucking hard. This gargantuan effort it's taking to connect to my daughter makes me feel that I'm failing her. I'm not the parent I want to be and that hurts. And tonight the saga continues. Stay tuned.

Gold Stars

It's official, Girl 2 is allergic to peanuts.

Two weeks ago I gave her a dab of peanut butter* and she quickly broke out in red splotchy hives around her mouth and eye where she touched. We gave her benadryl which cleared it up pretty quick - thank god- (and then took a solid 2 hour nap -also thank god), and the pediatrician referred us to an allergy center for testing.

*I had shown Girl 1 peanut butter jelly time for some reason earlier so pb&j for lunch was sorta a given.

Yesterday was our allergist appointment and she was diagnosed with a peanut allergy (but not tree nuts, so that's a sliver lining). However, to even make it to the appointment, I had to rearrange my work schedule and take sick time. Dr soc was able to make it for most of the appointment but had to leave to go teach his classes while we were waiting to talk allergy action plan. Afterwards she was really clingy (can't say I blame her with her back getting all pricked up) and I couldn't put her down/stop comfort nursing, but I still had to get to work eventually.

So dr soc and I arranged for me to drop her off in his class on my way in. Not ideal, but special circumstances, for a short amount of time, it would be okay. And let's be honest, he's a white male so nothing can really harm him.

As far as we know he hasn't gone viral for being a parent, but the patriarchy is alive and well (thriving even!) so we figure at the very least society gave him another gold star or two for yesterday.

Go Viral

It's a not so secret dream of mine to have one of my social media posts go viral. Or make it onto the huffington post funniest parents and/or women lists. However nowadays people go viral for the wrong reasons (major embarrassment, social gaffe, racist/sexist/idiotic/etc behavior followed by (hopefully) public outrage), so "going viral" probably shouldn't be on my life's accomplishment's list.
  
Anyway, I'm on my social media a lot right now (I'm on leave, newborns are pretty boring, the toddler is every bit a 2.5 year old so I have to vent and daytime tv sucks). All of those platforms have ads which I normally gloss over and dismiss. But this time I noticed all the ads were for diet products, workout routines, waist trainers, supplements etc, all these...things in an effort to motivate me to become an even "better" me.

And I'm like, I just had a baby. She's not even a week old, we're talking days. I housed a tiny human in me and literally pushed them out of my lady parts. Some might even consider that the epitome of what a lady's body can do. Here I am, sleep deprived, mentally exhausted, sore everywhere, ice packs on my raw nipples, wearing diapers (postpartum life is disgusting y'all), super hormonal, in addition to raising two very needy small humans to not be assholes and I'm supposed to be pretty too? WTF?
   
So I posted this on facebook: 

All the diet ads/products on my feed imply I should be getting back to societal set beauty standards and be ashamed of my current body for producing a healthy baby. 

Guess what world? Fuck off!

Us ladies giving a middle finger to that mindset
I also like the prominence of my double chin and how I don't give a rat's ass 

I tagged my husband (because when it involves the kids that's pretty much what we do), and got a respectable amount of likes and comments applauding my fuck off. In fact, one of dr soc's friends copied and pasted my status and gave me credit on her own wall and she got lots of likes too! So in my own way, I'm going to count that as going viral.

Achievement unlocked!

Long Jacket

So, I've already got something to hold over the this next kid's head. Also: thank god it was winter and my coat covers me to about mid thigh.

Before we were telling people I was expecting I was trying to hide (and usually failing) how miserable I felt at times. But other times...
Trigger warning: this is hilarious but disgusting.
We're out to lunch and my stomach/intestines were giving me first trimester nonsense. I went to the bathroom and sat to wait it out. After waiting for a while and nothing happening, everything happened. My stomach revolted and I had a half second to throw myself backwards, bend at the waist and I throw up all over myself. All. Over. I didn't take anything with me to the bathroom (because that's gross) so I was trapped.   

I waited a few minutes until someone else came into the bathroom, and when they finished washing their hands I called out: "excuse me...Um, in the first stall here. Hi, I'm pregnant and I had a bit of an accident..."
I asked a stranger in the bathroom to find my husband (and daughter) in the restaurant, tell him I'm okay, but I need my purse and coat. I thank her profusely when she comes back bringing both, assure I'm okay and thank her again. In my purse I have a plastic bag (to throw up in though lot of good it did me there), wipes to clean up, and my phone to text Mike what the hell is going on.

In the next few minutes I get as much of my lunch off of my clothes into the toilet, bag up all my clothes, and wipe up what the clothes didn't "catch." I button my coat, pull up my knee socks (those were clean), and texted my husband: I'm leaving the bathroom now. I'll meet you at the car. Took a deep breath, grabbed my bags, put my head down and walked out of the McCalisters in just my coat. We're pulling out of the parking lot when I get sick again and throw up out the window of the car. (sorry about that honey...but we're both really glad I made it out the window) And to add insult to injury, I still haven't done what I was waiting to do in the bathroom in the first place!

At home, I take a bath, everything eventually leaves my system in the privacy of my bathroom and I feel better okay enough. The kid takes a nap, and Mike and I settle on the couch to watch football. He asks how I'm doing and I ruefully say: that trench coat fantasy is not what it's cracked up to be.

Pampers Points

On occasion my toddler will say "poop-poop" after she has done just that. (Other times she'll say it and grunt with a huge grin because it's hilarious.)
So the fist time she legit (not the bullsh*t-pun intended-version) did this, my mom-sense immediately recognized this as a sign she's could be ready to potty train. Mommy however, is not ready.  Nope.
Do I want my kid to be in diapers forever? No, of course not. Diapers are expensive and environmentally toxic and gross in general. But...I'm just not mentally there.
She's only 19 months old, still a baby. My small helpless baby is a legit toddler and she's growing into a strong, chatty opinionated little girl right on schedule. But she's still a tiny little girl - the 1st percentile. She would fall in! The stool to reach the potty and sink would probably be bigger and heavier than her. I mean... how could such a tiny little girl be ready?
At least she's not really showing any other signs. So the mom-guilt isn't flaring up at this particular moment over this. I'm sure it will soon enough over something just as developmentally important, but meh, for now I'll change my baby's diapers.      

Birthday Dog

Who has four paws and turns 9 today?  This dog! Happy birthday Jules!

#bostonterriersofinstagram

Also? This dog also had cancer. Two different kinds with two different probabilities of spreading at the same time. Yeah. That blows.

But! Neither one spread internally. We caught them early enough and have removed all of it so far. So she has a relatively clean bill of health right now. Which is the best possible news we could have gotten for this. No chemo or radiation treatment needed.  

But even if they were treatment options, we're not going to take it. It may not work, it's hella expensive, but most importantly Jules wouldn't understand what she would be going through.  We're going to do what's best for her, and that means keeping her comfortable.     

I have a feeling Jules will be with us for a few more years, if for no other reason the bounty of table scraps the baby drops. And Jules is a fighter, all heart. So even if this is what eventually takes her out, I know she won't go without a fight. 

Cat House

I try to run a tight leash when it comes to the dog. I watched enough dog whisperer pre-Bailey to know my dog had to respect me if I wanted to have any type of control over it. Then we paid a hefty penny for hard core training when Bailey and Jules were fighting, and the respect thing was highly enforced. So when I go on a walk with the dog I keep her on a short leash and don't let her lead or mark along the way. Except for one place, the lawn that belongs to the cat that attacked her.
Yeah. You read that right.  My leashed dog got attacked by a cat.

Back when the baby was about a month old the four of us (me pushing the stroller, Mike walking the dog) were taking a w-a-l-k when out of nowhere this streak of orange comes from behind and animal fight noises start. The baby starts to wail so I snap into mama bear mode and run a few steps to protect her. Meanwhile Mike has managed to pick up the dog by her leash while kicking at the streak of orange attacking her, which then retreats to a tree trunk and hisses at us. While in fight mode something has bled on mike's pants and the dog nipped or scratched him along the jaw so he's bleeding too and all we can do for a moment is stare in disbelief at this hissing streak of orange that we have just realized is a cat. But it gets even more ridiculous.

All the commotion brought the cat's owner outside who asks what just happened. The dog is still wriggling so we have no idea if she's okay but we know at least one animal is bleeding, my husband is bleeding, the baby's crying and this cat is hissing at us. So still in a bit of shock we tell them this cat just attacked our dog. And their response? "But he doesn't even have claws!"

Excuse me? This cat we have seen around the neighborhood before that just attacked our dog is declawed?  WHAT? And the owner, who didn't see a damn thing and leaves the garage door open a crack so this declawed cat can roam around, keeps insisting the cat doesn't have claws and doesn't believe us, and they don't even ask if anyone, human or animal is okay.

By this point the hissing cat has run back into the open garage, Jules has stopped wriggling enough that we can tell at the very least she's and dr soc's jaw isn't gushing blood, but the baby is still wailing at the top of her lungs, our nerves are on edge and the cat owner keeps reiterating the cat doesn't have claws. We need first aid and we're going to get absolutely nowhere with this person, so we curtly restate the cat attacked our dog, and we are leaving to take care of ourselves and hightail it home.

The whole walk home we're making sure we're not crazy and that we both saw/heard the same thing. A streak of orange that roams around the neighborhood whenever it wants because the garage is left open is a motherf*cking declawed cat and it attacked our dog. That sounds made up but it totally happened! At home we clean the shallow scratches on Jules' legs and the nip along dr soc's jaw, but thankfully everyone is okay enough. In disbelief, but okay.

A motherf*cking declawed cat attacked my dog. Mark all you want at that cat house Jules. Mark all you motherf*cking want.

Bull Poop

Parenting truth: Poop is a part of your daily conversation pieces.

If we're being honest, this sh*t (pun intended) starts even before the baby arrives. Because one of the unfun things about your body creating a human is that pretty much every other system in your body goes apesh*t in one way or another. And so you talk about it. Because you're pregnant and grumpy and out of f*cks to give.

Anyway. Here's some of our exchanges since becoming parents.

Baby is 3 days old-
me: Baby pooped on me. Parenting achievement unlocked.

Baby is 5 days old:
me: I have been pooped on twice today. That is all.

Baby is 4 months old-ish:
me: Blowout today was through her onesie and up her back, but her pants stayed clean.
dr soc: Impressive.
me: I know right?

After daycare drop off:
me: We're on outfit number 2 already.
dr soc: Already? 
me:  Yeah. If we're being honest we hadn't even left the house yet.
dr soc: Ouch.
me: And stinky.

After a particularly toxic diaper change:
dr soc: How bad?
me: Bath-worthy.

Two weeks ago:
dr soc: Ever seen a purple-looking nugget in baby girl's diapers?
me: Yup. Was there a gray tinge to it as well?
dr soc: Not sure, it's in the pail now. I was just surprised.
me: It probably did. Gray and nugget like from the yogurt and purple from the prunes.

today:
me: If you do nothing else today please for the love of god give our daughter a bath. There was poop on the wall.

Blow Out

So I had a baby 4 months ago and dropped off the blog world. Meh, whatever. Maybe I'll go back and tell stories from that time, maybe not (probably not-this parenting thing is busy stuff!)
Anyway, we started my tiny baby on solids last weekend with hopes to make her not-so tiny. Or at the very least tiny but still growing like she should. (Seriously, she's in the 4th and 5th percentile for height and weight. TINY) And by "solids" I mean baby oatmeal (who knew that was a thing?) mixed with breast milk. It's a runny mess and maybe 50% ends up in her tummy, but she gets excited* for it nonetheless.
Since she's having only had breast milk up to this point, introducing solids to her diet (even as liquidy as they are) was bound to mess with her little system some and there would be some adjustment. So the day after her first oatmeal we waited for that dirty diaper. And waited. And waited some more. Eventually it happened, she got more oatmeal and we all moved on.
You know what else adjusting to solids means? Blowing out her diaper. And at the most convenient time of when I'm dropping her of at daycare. Yup. The past 3 times she's gone to daycare since starting solids, she needs an outfit change as I'm about to leave. Her last blowout took some skill because it went halfway up the back of her onesie, yet didn't soak through to her pants so she could still wear them. Her caretakers think outfit changes are her way of keeping mommy around a little longer. Which, given the skills her last blowout took, plotting may be in her wheelhouse too...

*You know who else is excited about baby on solids? The dog. First time baby sat in her highchair the dog was right there under the table at her feet. We're probably never going to have crumbs again.

Signed, Seeled, Delivered

SHE'S BORN!!!
My baby girl was born healthy on November 24, 2015 at 3:27 am!!
Mike and I are thrilled to be parents and over the moon in love with our tiny little girl. Overall, we're dealing with little sleep, the most perfect baby and tons of well wishes. It was a fast labor (maybe one day I'll write more about it, while omitting many gross details), and I was able to get the epidural just in time. (OMG GET THE DRUGS, DRUGS FOR THE WIN)
And yes, we were surprised up until the very end. Especially me since I was thinking boy, but Mike was thinking girl and he was right. Which he may be a little smug about, but I don't mind. I'm a mommy! Mike's a daddy! And she's perfect. So much happiness.

General Baby Stuff

At 37 weeks I'm at the point of no return going to the doctor every week now. And if I go into labor the doctor wont stop it. But at least we confirmed that the baby flipped! Baby's head is down and butt is up, and isn't likely to flip back. S/he is still head butting my bladder and kicking/squishing my lungs at the same time which isn't the most pleasant, but at least we don't have to schedule a c-section before Thanksgiving. Phew! (I could still end up having one if baby decides to not come out in a reasonable amount of time, but that's a possibility I can handle)

In other pregnancy/baby news.
I was rear-ended the day before Halloween and I am fine. But since I wanted to get the baby checked out too (because that's what you do when you are pregnant) I had to go to labor and delivery since the ER doesn't have the monitoring equipment for a baby in utero. I go to the proper area, get hooked up to the fetal monitor and wait. And wait. And wait some more, and then was told the midwife wanted to keep me for about 4 more hours of observation. Which, fine, I already called work and Mike was with me and I like him a whole whole lot, so we just hung out for a while. Then about a half hour of us getting sprung, the on call doctor comes in. Turns out I has having contractions (that I had no idea I was having) 5-6 minutes apart (!) when when I first arrived and I was still having them (!!) every so often, so I was going to be kept 24 hours from the accident, so overnight, for more observation. So we got a trial run of our hospital stay, which is a good thing because we learned the place is cold and made notes about what to pack in the hospital bag for when the time actually comes. And baby was perfectly fine after all that, so that's good.
Oh yeah, that aforementioned hospital bag? We've sorta got it packed... Meaning we have stuff we can pack ahead of time set to the side but it's not in an actual bag yet. Because if we're being honest, having that bag packed freaks me out a little. And by "little" I mean holy-sht-i'm-going to be-a-mommy-so-it's-not-mature to admit I want to run away screaming.

Also, I'm over my body being up for public discussion. Well, I was never "in" to that for the record. When a patron at work informs me I wasn't pregnant the last time they saw me, (pretty sure they're wrong on that one)  or someone who doesn't even know my last name goes on and on how tiny I am for so far along, it's uncomfortable. I know being told you are a small pregnant woman is supposed to be flattering, but you are still talking about my body. Mine. Not up for public discussion. (Though if the political climate keeps going the way it is as a woman I'll have no rights over it anyway.) And we can also leave my baby's parts out of that public conversation. That's no one's business either. Unless we have a girl that is. Because then she'll have no rights over her body either and we can talk all about it.

Breech of Contract

At my last doctor's visit the doctor was feeling around my belly but couldn't quite figure out where baby's head was. So out comes the ultrasound machine and baby is breech.
That little punk!
However, at that appointment I was just over 34 weeks, so there's still time and space for baby to move head down and butt up. My doctor gave me the okay to try and flip the baby on my own with some yoga positions, so I every night I give it a go. She also mentioned an Indian ritual of walking over hot coals, but I'm just going to leave that one alone. As a last resort maybe I can convince baby to flip by telling him/her it's like flip cup, which is mommy's favorite drinking game.
Hopefully baby gets with the program and moves into the proper position by 39 weeks. Or else baby's probably coming out via c-section before Thanksgiving. Which, nope, OMG, not even going to process that right now. Becasue OMG. Before Thanksgiving.