On Tonight's Episode...

So, we must be a fun couple to watch.

On his day of rest, God must sit back, pop open a tin of Divinity candy, whip up some supernatural popcorn, put his feet up, and turn on The Clarks.

There is always something entertaining to watch on The Clarks. Dogs throwing up Q-tips, baby's head spinning around at dinner and spraying food across the room, two grown adults trying to figure out a sippy cup, poop parties. Never a dull moment.

And I hope God had his feet propped up tonight because it was a good Lord's Day episode.

Our grill caught on fire.

Yes, our corn cobs and chicken breasts blackened and went up in smoke.

Apparently, there was grease in the grill tray left over from my son's birthday party. My brother-in-law grilled hamburgers at the shindig and we all forgot to clean the grease.

Until tonight.

When I saw the flames licking the side of the grill, I thought, Hmmmm...I don't remember seeing flames before, but what do I know? I've never used a grill. I was staring out the back door and my husband saw the confused, inquisitive look on my face. So, he bent down to look underneath.

When he saw the flames, he didn't stand there looking bewildered like I did. He pulled the grill away from the house and yelled for me to get the corn starch. After sorting through what seemed like hundreds of plastic bags from Wal-Mart and Target, I found the way-expired corn starch.

He opened the lid of the grill and threw the corn starch on the flames. Our corn and chicken, charcoaled in the fire, were no longer edible. Well, duh.

My husband pulled the tray out, which was still on fire, and took it to the gravel area of our backyard. By then, I had quit watching because I still have the mentality that if I don't look, it will all go away. And it did. He put out the fire somehow.

We think our grill might still be usable. We will have to wait and see. At least the expired corn starch didn't completely go to waste. And we saved it...just in case.

Spit, Flying Poop, and Sippy Cup straws: the new phases of parenting

So lately my husband and I have been given big doses of parenthood.

One week ago today, our son started spitting his food out at us.

It now happens everytime we feed him. I think this is an "exerting his independence" kind of thing because if I give him something to occupy his hands, he will forget that he was fighting the food police and eat every bite.

However, if he is not entertained, not otherwise occupied, the food comes back out in a spray that covers the length of the living room. Like a powerful sprinkler. Or an out-of-control power washer.

Minutes before his birthday party began last Saturday, I had to change my clothes because he sprayed his baby food all across the front of my party dress.

I'm hoping this is something he grows out of, like the vomiting phase he went through or like when he used to pee on us when we changed his diaper. Thankfully, those times have passed...however...we have entered yet another phase as well...

the "take off the diaper" phase.

Yes, he has begun taking off his diaper, always at the worst possible times. Here is a post about the first time he did this, Diapers and Diabetes.

But that was nothing compared to two nights ago.

Max was in his pack n' play, looking at his books and talking and laughing, holding his stuffed monkey. My husband was making dinner and I was picking up the tiny messes all around the house.

My husband yells, "Dinner's ready!" and he takes our plates to the table. When I go into the den to get Max, I notice he has one hand between his legs and the other hand is freely and joyfully throwing little pieces of something into the air, like when Mary Tyler Moore throws her hat up in the opening of The Mary Tyler Moore Show.

He's so happy, having such an amazing time! He's laughing, smiling, grinning from ear to ear. What could be so fun?

As I get closer...the smell creeps into my nostrils...what the?...I see little brown balls of poop all over his pack n' play...his diaper, removed from his behind and thrown with reckless abandon to the side, is empty.

I'm not sure how long he had been sitting there tugging on his weiner and throwing poop balls around the room, but it was long enough to have poop under his fingernails, all over his legs, all over his books, his stuffed monkey and Tigger, and to have it smashed into the pad of half the pack n' play.

Well, forget about eating a hot dinner. Ah, a vanishing dream...

Instead, we rinsed the big pieces of poop off Max in one bathtub, then took him to the other bathtub to immerse and scrub. While I cleaned Pooperman, my husband picked up poop and cleaned the pad. Then, I threw his monkey and Tigger in the washing machine and disinfected his books.

By the time we were finished, our food was cold and nobody felt like eating, except Max, who was starving from his Olympic discus throwing and bathtub freestyle.

For Max's dinner, we decided to begin teaching him to use a sippy cup. Our pediatrician told us to get one with a straw because it will be easier for Max to use in the beginning.

But we couldn't get the dang thing to work! How is our one-yr old supposed to figure it out if his thirty-something parents can't do it?

We both sucked and sucked on that damn straw, not getting a single drop of milk out of it. I must have spent 10 minutes taking it apart and putting it back together. It might as well have been a carburetor.

I handed it over to my husband, who spent another 10 minutes trying to suck a freaking drop out of that thing. We both have college degrees. Hell, I have two college degrees. And yet neither one of us could figure out how to suck through the straw of a damn sippy cup.

Finally, after 20 minutes, my husband took the straw apart, put it back together, bit the straw and sucked at the same time, and the milk began to flow. Who the hell would think to bite and suck at the same time?

We gave it to my son and he figured it out in 20 seconds.

So much for college degrees.

Crybaby

So, I think my nannying days are drawing to a close.

My son will no longer tolerate sleeping in a pack n' play at someone else's house.

He will no longer tolerate eating in a makeshift high chair at someone else's house.

He has his routine at home and he likes it that way.

For those who don't know, I babysit my 3-yr old nephew and another 3-yr old boy every Tuesday and Wednesday at my sister-in-law's house. I take my son with me who is now one-yr old. It has been a perfect arrangement for the last almost 2 years - I've been able to be with my son, my nephew, and make a little extra money. Perfect!

But alas, the other boy moved to Connecticut last week. And my son is refusing to take naps anywhere other than at home in his crib. This has been going on for the last few weeks, and since my husband lost his job, he has been able to help out with our son and pick him up when he is having a sleepytime meltdown. Sleepytime meltdowns include sweating, screaming, crying, wiping boogers in his hair, throwing pacifiers, shaking the pack n' play, throwing his blanket out of the pack n' play, throwing his monkey out, and essentially trying to flip the pack n' play over on its side so he can crawl to the door and out to safety.

Meanwhile, my nephew is asking me, "Why is baby Max crying? Is it because he is happy? Is he sad? I think he is crying because he wants to go to sleep. I think he just said he wants to go to bed. Where is the remote? Can I have a snack?"

It is torture for us all.

Therefore, for my son's sake and the sake of my mommyhood sanity, when my husband finds a job, I will no longer be Ms. Nannytastic.

As soon we came to this conclusion, I panicked and became very emotional. I was suddenly afraid of losing that small bit of income. Afraid of giving up one of my part-time jobs. My two part-time jobs pay for our groceries! But I really have no choice. I've got to take care of my son and that means staying at home and having faith that my husband will find a job where we don't need that income.

I came home from my sister-in-law's house crying to my husband. Worried. Scared. Afraid. Worried. Scared. Afraid. This is my new name. Ms. Worried Scared Afraid. Hello. Nice to meet you! Would you like some of my anxiety?

Over the last couple of months, I have become a crybaby. Very raw and fragile. I hate it. But, I am now quite the crybaby. I have an unending sense of dread about the future, always afraid now of what might happen next. I was never like that before my husband lost his job, before the miscarriage, before a million tiny things went wrong and started to add up.

Most people have it so much worse than I do. Why do I feel like I could lose everything?

Grrrr...I hate it. I don't like feeling like a victim because I despise that type of attitude in others. I don't like feeling afraid because then I am anxious and sick to my stomach and on edge all the time, ready to pounce.

My husband is a funny, funny guy. That is one of the things that attracted me to him. These days, on the rare occasion that he makes me laugh, it feels foreign and odd and the laughter reminds me that I don't do it much anymore.

Yuck! Whose life is this anyway? I have got to claw my way out of this quicksand. Throw me a stick! Or a branch, or a vine, or a long, tall bottle of tequila! (I just watched The Three Amigos so I've got tequila and Mexico on the brain. I don't really like tequila. Maybe a tall bottle of water. But then that's not environment-friendly...so instead...can someone just pull me out of the quicksand and give me a glass of champagne? And some chocolate ice cream. Wait...I digress. The point is to pull MYSELF out of it. Stop being a crybaby. Right. Got it.)

I'll get there.

Stupid Karma

It is such the bad housewife cliche, but I turned six or seven of my husband's white undershirts pink. And one of his t-shirts. And some socks, too.

My head still isn't in the game and I washed them with my pink, handmade, tie-dyed, "hippie" dress, as my husband calls it. Oopsie. Sorry (spoken like Gilly from Saturday Night Live).

I am consistently out of it. I think I might have "switched off" when our roller coaster began back in July and I haven't found the "on" switch yet. Where is that danged on switch? I think it rusted.

I feel a teensy bit more at peace than I have the past couple of months. I'm thinking that our bad karma streak might be over. Hoping, hoping, hoping with fingers crossed....Although, I read my destiny cards for the next 104 days and they said if I have been holding negative patterns in work and health, in this life or the last, this is the time they will bite me in my arse, so I must keep a positive attitude in order to deal. I hope the destiny cards were kidding.

After he lost his job and my miscarriage, my husband said he must have been a bastard in his former life. I must have been a money-hungry ho. Or maybe just a ho. Stupid karma.

I have had anxiety the last couple of days because my son had his one-yr well-chld check-up today and I knew he was getting a vaccine. We only allow him to have one vaccine at a time because 1) he had a bad reaction at 4 months to the DTaP shot and we ended up in the ER because he wouldn't stop screaming and then for the next 8 days he was a totally different baby, and 2) I tend to lean toward the group of people who don't completely trust the medical community and I believe some vaccines do more harm than good and some are unnecessary and just ways for pharmaceutical companies to make more money (like the chicken pox vaccine. Hello? We all had chicken pox in the 70's and 80's and we are fine. It was another reason to get to stay home from school!).

So, pediatricians think I'm a pain. But that's okay. I don't mind. If pediatricians wishing I had never stepped into their office is the price I pay for a non-injured son, then that is fine by me. Step away with that needle.

The point is that my son didn't cry when he got his one vaccine today. He usually cries. But today, not one little tear. It was like he didn't even notice, distracted by the Elmo CD case I let him hold. I felt pretty lucky about that one. He is napping for now and I hope when he wakes up, he is still feeling fantastic. Maybe our karma is changing...now if my husband could just find a J-O-B! Perhaps it is just around the corner...

Everyone knows the party's for the parents anyway

I have important business to discuss.

First, I would like to inform everyone of a 50% off apparel sale at Michelle's Waddlers and Toddlers Ebay store. The sale is for two days only, August 24th and 25th, and you must be her blog follower to qualify for the sale prices. I've already got my eye on several things for my son! So, hop on over to her site and join! Here is her link about the sale, as well.

And now on to other very important business.

Like my son's first birthday party on Saturday.

It was a two-day event. None of which he will remember or that he cared about. But, we all know that the first birthday party is for the parents anyway, right? I mean, really, who are we kidding? He didn't need any of it. He was content the entire day with a small, stuffed baseball bat and a giraffe figurine.

The party prep began Thursday night when my sister arrived in town from St. Louis to save the day. Since my miscarriage, my head has not been in the party-planning game, so having my sister come home to help was the biggest blessing I could have received. My sister is like a super-planner and organizer. She really should wear a cape with a picture of a file folder or cleaning products on her chest. She is super-hero good.

Thursday evening and Friday morning and afternoon we baked cupcakes, ran errands, made lists, bought groceries, cleaned my house, and managed to have a great time doing it. Friday night, Max's birthday festivities began with a small get together of just my mom, sister and aunt.

The big man on campus:

We gave him a cupcake and he had no idea what to do with it. He just stuck his finger in it and rubbed it in his hair.

Doesn't he look like he's having fun (sarcasm intended)? After the cupcake poking, we gave him a bath and opened his presents. He almost hemorrhaged with excitement over his new Elmo doll. He loves him some Elmo.

The following day, Saturday (in case you couldn't follow the schedule of events), we had the big blow-out, the one that started with 10 people invited and ended up being around 35. I was super-stressed, even with my super-hero sister there, but I think it was pretty successful.

Here are some of the highlights:

This water slide, which we borrowed from my husband's sister, was a huge hit with the kids in the neighborhood. The little girls across the street would scream, "This is awesome!" every time they went down the slide. The babies, like my bebe, hung out in the pool at the bottom.

After swimming, eating dogs, burgers, and cake and ice cream, we opened Max's presents. Or, I, opened Max's presents and it was just like my birthday all over again! He sat on my husband's lap and played with the baseball bat and the giraffe figurine. That was all he needed. He barely paid any attention to the toys I was unwrapping.

All in all, it was a successful birthday party, full of parental stress, exhaustion and lack of sleep. A big thank you to my sister, mom, aunt, husband, brother-in-law, Jason, and everyone else who made this way too big party one to remember (atleast for my husband and I to remember, and my son to look at in pictures when he is older). At the end of the night, my son was hugging his best buds, Elmo and Ernie, before bed. Aaaahhh...until next year.

Updates and more updates

I had an appt with my OBGYN yesterday. She said my miscarriage was probably caused by a chromosomal defect and not by my endometriosis. So, that's good news. She also said we could start trying to conceive again in about 6 to 8 weeks.


I am feeling better today about the miscarriage. It's time to find the humor again. I haven't cried at all today and I even got motivated and took my son to a toy store. I couldn't get him to let go of a giant, stuffed lion that he pulled off the shelf, so I distracted him with a stuffed ray gun and put the lion back. But then he wouldn't let go of the ray gun, so I just bought it for him. He deserved a treat after hanging with stone-faced, zombie mom for the last three days.


My husband hasn't found a job yet, but we are hopeful.


My son's sinus infection is finally gone (thanks to vitamins and probiotics, NOT antibiotics) and his first birthday is on Friday! We are having a party for him on Saturday afternoon. Somehow it has turned into a much bigger to-do than I had originally planned. Does this always happen with children's parties? This is my first experience. Should I just expect this to happen from now on? Plan to invite 5 and actually invite 50?


We were only going to invite our families to his birthday party. My son gets freaked out when groups of people stare at him. He sticks out his bottom lip and cries until we remove him from their vision. Also, with my husband being unemployed, we are trying to save money.

However, somehow, it has turned from 10 invited people to about 35.

We decided to invite the neighbors because we really enjoy their company, they have four kids, and they invited us to their son' s party. Then we thought, if we invite one neighbor with kids, we need to invite all the neighbors with kids so no child is left out. After all, the party will be in the front yard. And we really like all of our neighbors. We live in a fantastic, middle-income, older neighborhood where everyone is down-to-earth and non-fancy. I like non-fancy. Fancy is exhausting.

So, during one of the most difficult times in my life, I have to organize a birthday party for 35 people and my brain is no where near organized enough right now to do it. This is why it is time to find the humor in life again. Times have been tough, but we're makin' it.

I just realized I never found chairs for the party. Better find some chairs. Fast.

And tables. Crap.

...and then some bad news

I've had some bad birthdays in my life, but this one yesterday takes the cake.


I had a miscarriage last night. On my birthday.

The day was in shambles already because my husband, son and I were so tired and none of us were feeling well. My son had congestion, my husband had an ear infection and I was having just a general discomfort in my lower abdomen, a dull ache.

When we returned home from my birthday dinner at my mother's house, I started bleeding. My mom rushed over to watch my son and Steve and I went to the ER, where after HOURS of waiting on test results, we found out my hormone level had dropped to a 17 and I was indeed having a miscarriage.

We were in triage for almost five hours. The room was freezing and violently silent and uncomfortable. I was put in a room with another woman on the other side of the curtain. She never spoke and my husband and I spoke only in whispers. We were tired and hungry, I was scared and nervous.

I kept thinking that this wasn't really happening. It was so surreal. What was I doing there? Surely I wasn't having a miscarriage. A thousand thoughts were dashing in and out of my head and I was having trouble taking a deep breath. I thought this is all a misunderstanding. The bleeding is normal. It is fine. At one point, I actually had convinced myself that I had just cut myself shaving "down there" and we were all going to laugh when my blood test results came back and my hormone levels were high and through the roof.

My husband left for a while to buy a newspaper down the street and I started bleeding again while he was gone. Then, I knew. I knew, but I didn't believe.

Around 1:30 am, the nurse came in and told us the bad news. She was sympathetic, she closed the door when she left and I lost it. My husband came to the side of the bed and held me while I cried. He said something to me, but I don't remember what it was.

Then, the doctor came in and told me what to expect: bleeding for one to two weeks, cramping that ranges from light to heavy for one to two weeks, take meds for pain, come back if soaking pads every hour or have a high fever, make an appointment with your OBGYN within the week.

We got home around 2 am, I took a pain pill and tried to sleep.

Today I have felt empty, as if every action has nothing behind it, just involuntary movement and going through the motions. I feel like I have missed an entire day with my son, even though I have been by his side all day. I'm absent.

My emotions have gone haywire. I will feel stable for two hours and then out of nowhere, I will be still and break down. Then, almost as quickly, I feel stable again and start walking around the house.

All kinds of "what if's" have tortured me throughout the day. What if I hadn't cleaned the bathtub with bleach? What if I hadn't had my hair dyed? What if I hadn't taken that ibuprofen? All things I did a few weeks ago before I knew I was pregnant. What if I had known I was pregnant? Then I never would have done any of those things. Should I have even tried to get pregnant, knowing there is a chance of miscarriage with endometriosis? Should I have waited to have surgery first? All evil, torturous questions that can never be answered anyway, so why am I allowing them to enter?

We are going to be fine. I know. Peace will return someday.

My sweet, baby soul just wasn't ready. And that's okay. We still love you, baby. I understand. Most of the time I feel like I'm not ready, either. We've just gotta take it one day at a time.