An Interesting Topic (or Two)

AKA:  This might require some opinions from y'all.

If you know me, you know I am one of the least judgmental people in the world.  Kinda.  I try really hard to see other people's points of view, and (especially when it comes to parenting) I know that what works for me won't work for you and so on.  I've done (and do) things with Dante that others find weird, and I'm sure you do stuff that would make my skin crawl.

That being said, do you kiss your kids on the lips?  If you are friends with me on Facebook, you can take a quick glance at my profile picture and know that I do.  Dante doesn't pucker, he sticks out his lower lip like he's giving me an exaggerated frown, and it's so cute, I have to kiss it.  I can't help it!  Dante will run up to me with his lower lip sticking out and if I was to try to stop myself from kissing that, I'd probably pass out.  He'll kiss my belly, he pokes my eyes, honks my nose, dings the top of my head...I am trying really hard to appreciate every moment I get with him while he still likes me!  I know there will be a time when I will be lucky to get a wave or the half hug, so every kiss is downright precious to me.  Plus, soon I will be elbow deep in breast feeding stuff and even more laundry, and binkies and another baby, so I am trying to appreciate every one of his little quirks and kisses before they are just memories.

Another issue brought up on yesterday's Talk:  Do you bathe with your kids?  Not ashamed to admit I do.  Some days, that is the only way I get a shower, too, so he comes with me and plays in the tub while I exfoliate and shampoo and such.  Or when he was sick, we took a lukewarm bath together, since he was so tired of being wet and cold, it stood to reason that he'd appreciate being held, and I think he lasted longer than he would have had I not gotten in, too.  And again, it's something else for me to remember.  There are no pictures, just great memories for me to fall back on when someday I get tuned out or a door slammed in my face.

I am thrilled that I have gotten to spend such amazing quality time with him.  I am incredibly blessed to be a stay at home mom.  I am incredibly blessed with a wonderful man who loves me.  I am just an incredibly lucky person, and I do my best not to forget it, even when there's puking or a stripping toddler, or chalk drawings on his bedroom door.  How many people are this lucky?  Not many, so I am going to sit back, count my blessings, and hope I get to hear from you guys, too.

Whole Wheat Pita and Cheetos

So, Dante woke up around 1230pm today, and we had a yummy breakfast of scrambled eggs and fried hot dogs (weird, but that's how Gramma got my little brother to eat eggs, and now it's Dante's turn.).  And we watched some Sesame Street.  Of course.

Got him dressed and took him over to my neighbor's apartment so she could watch him, and I took a couple organic Braeburn apples and a banana for Dante, and ran out the door.  Grabbed some Starbucks and ran to my ultrasound appointment, hoping that if I got there early, they'd see me in a timely fashion.  I hate when I'm wrong.  My appointment was for 330pm, but they wanted me there at 315pm, so I got there at 310pm.  That was worthless.  I could have sat and read for a bit at Starbucks; instead I got to read "new parent" magazines in the lobby, while continuously glancing at the clock as my appointment time slipped away like low tide.

Finally was seen by the ultrasound tech (at 340p) and she apologized, since my chart wasn't even put up for her, so she had no idea I was waiting.  Granted, she was busier than a one legged man in an ass kicking contest, but she obviously felt bad, so I did my best to hold my tongue.  She got one good shot that is good enough for me to show on Facebook, and the rest look like a science experiment.  She said they were great shots; exactly what my doc wanted, but all I saw was Alien vs. Predator.  Oh, well.  She also told me that this baby has a lot of hair, and she's right on track:  1 pound, 15 ounces and about a foot long.  I am so stoked!  I am sure that since I am so excited, I am going to have the longest 14 weeks of my life!  LOL!

Came home, got Dante, and since my neighbor had to hit the Family Dollar downstairs, we made it a field trip and all went together, since I wanted cookies.  Yeah, I know.  Mama wants cookies, Mama gets cookies.  And Dante wanted Cheetos.  He had about a third of one of the apples I left for him and a slice of whole wheat pita, so a few Cheetos aren't going to kill him.  Besides, I left him.  And he behaved and listened.  That warrants a treat!

But boy, oh boy was it nap time when we got back to our little bat cave!  He was an angry little bugger!  But I got to have a couple oatmeal cream pies (the devil, I tell you!) and I've been watching yesterday's episode of The Talk.  Which I will discuss in another post.

Ticked Off Tuesday: Internet Stalking

I have actually avoided writing here because of this creepy epidemic.  I hate putting myself out there only to get more than my fair share of dumb, placating, and ignorant comments and wall posts.  Yes, I check in to Foursquare and usually post what I'm doing on Facebook, but that doesn't mean that I want to hear some weird, inane thing that my post reminded you about.  I've tried ignoring the folks that do this to me, I've tried sarcasm and rude, but now I'm getting to the point that I want to change my phone number (which I've had for almost 4 years), change my email address (that I've had for 7), and delete them and block them on FB.  It's too much.  Yes, I love 85% of the people on my friends list (a lot are comedians or Biggest Loser contestants that don't have fan pages), but ...damn.  I am trying to find the words to accurately describe how just a few people make me want to just delete FB, and not have contact with the other people that mean the world to me.  Is there a nice way to tell people that clicking on notifications fills me with a sense of dread?  That I don't want to post pictures or what I'm doing or how I'm doing because I'm just irritated.  Maybe it's hormones, but I really hate being That Bitch and blaming hormones when it's actually pissed me off since before I was pregnant.

Old me would just say "fu*k it" and delete the offenders, block them and not look back, but in my "old" age, I have been trying to see things from other people's points of view and it's easier said than done.  I'm frustrated, and I feel completely helpless, like my social networking has taken on a life of its own.  I'm irritated because I'm so incredibly non confrontational, but I feel like I have to defend myself.  I have less and less time as of late to weed through stupid stuff, and I feel like I'm finally at a breaking point.

Has this happened to anyone else?  Are there people on your social networking friends lists that make you want to scream?  Be honest if it's me; I'd hate to think I am inflicting this kind of irritation and frustration on you!

An Upswing!

I'm very happy to report that Dante is doing much better.  Sunday, we went to Albertson's for the stuff to make a focaccia pizza, and he was a little whiny, but as soon as our cashier handed him a "Thanks for Shopping" sticker, he was happy as a clam.  So, then we went to the park so Hubby could have time to himself and Dante could get some much needed sunshine and exercise.

We wound up meeting this really nice stay at home mom (whose name eludes me right now!) and her cute 19 month old, Alex.  Such a sweet little boy!  Dante had so much fun playing with him, and their dog, Kali, and us Moms had a nice chat!  My favorite part of this park trip, though, was when we left.  Alex was buckled into his wagon, and I told Dante to give him a hug.  Instead, Dante leaned over and gave him a kiss on the forehead!  My heart melted like a sno-cone on an El Paso sidewalk in July!  Every so often, I wonder if I'm doing an ok job, and Dante does something to remind me that I'm teaching him well!

Monday was one of those days that made me want to patiently wait out the waiting period so I can effectively assume a position on a bell tower.  Dante woke up from a nightmare around 820 am, when I had to be up at 1030am for a doctor appointment.  He finally went back to bed around 9 something and I actually rescheduled my appointment for 1115 instead of 1145, thinking I could get back early and nap.

Got to the appointment, it took less than ten minutes (she didn't even check my fundal height, which pissed me off, but at least I got to hear her heartbeat, which was at 140+ bpm).  Then, to add insult to injury, Doc asked me to please schedule another ultrasound because at my 20 week scan, they didn't get very good pictures of her face and neck.  Sure, no problem!  So I head to the front, grab my nasty orange drink for the glucose screening next month, and then I got told one of the most horrible things I could be told:  They don't have anyone on Mondays to do ultrasounds.  My love has Sunday/Monday off.  Then, without even asking me if it was ok, she just randomly scheduled me for next Wednesday at 330p.  I was so pissed, I nearly ran lights and stop signs. So I stopped at 7-11 for a cup of coffee and a Cadbury egg.  As I enjoyed that creamy bit of heaven, I threw in a mix cd that I made from some of the music my best friend Chris gave me, long before he passed away.  (As in about 5 years ago!)  So I was incredibly proud of myself for not having to pull over, like I was a grown up, listening to good, thumpy music.  Then one song in particular came on, and luckily I was pulling into my garage, so I just let it go.  It occurred to me that no matter how much I cry, how much I punch my steering wheel, he's still gone.  I can bitch, moan, cry, doesn't matter.  I can't stop listening to the music I love because it reminds me of him.  I am beginning to think that it's not fair to him or his memory if I do something so incredibly stupid.

So I came upstairs and just vegged in front of the computer.  I looked up ridiculous things just to waste time and make my brain feel useful.  Then Dante woke up, and we went downstairs to see our neighbor and her son, F, and we had a blast.  They were kind enough to bring some frozen organic yogurt in an ice cream cone for him, and Dante loved it!  He ate it with his hands, and it was kinda gross, but he was so happy, I couldn't argue.  He got covered in yogurt, and chalk, and he was an absolute mess, but the laughter that bellowed from his lips made me so incredibly happy!  He ran, and played with those pull back and go kind of cars, and was just a little boy.  Not sick, not tired, just thrilled to be alive, and it was contagious.  And luckily, my dear neighbor offered to watch him next Wednesday so I don't have to take him to the ultrasound appointment.  Whew!  The boys get to play and I get to not worry about him destroying thousands of dollars of equipment while I'm stuck with cold goo on my belly.  I'm just sad I have to miss seeing him play.  I love the look on his face when he's enjoying himself, or learning.  So gorgeous!

Every so often, when I think about everything that's wrong in the world, Dante reminds me that true happiness is squishing a banana between your fingers.  Or doodling on yourself with a washable marker.  Or singing the ABC's in silly voices.  That little boy has been one of the greatest blessings anyone could ever ask for, and I am eternally grateful.

A Full Day at Elitch's

Has fewer roller coasters than I have been on today.  He woke up, and was lethargic and fever free.  Put him down for a short nap, and he woke up ready to tackle the Federal Budget.  (He knows as much math as most politicians, so it could work...)  Then I decided in a cloud of optimism to take him for a walk to get a couple things and well...that didn't end well.  At Family Dollar, I got him Big Boy pajamas and he insisted on carrying them on their hanger out of the store.  So I had to wrap them around themselves so he wouldn't drag them on the ground the whole walk home.

Then he flipped out when we walked into our building to drop off what we bought before heading over to Starbucks.  We got to Starbucks and I ordered him a mini donut, and he bit into it before she even finished ringing me up!  PROGRESS!  Sweet!

Then the roller coaster that is dealing with a sick monkey went over the edge, and he flipped out.  He started crawling under the benches outside and cried when he forgot how he got there.  I got him to stop crying by asking him if he wanted to call Gramma, and he stopped crying long enough for me to dial, and as soon as she answered, he started yelling and crying again.  So I packed up and brought us home.

When we got home, he got whiny, and I noticed he was warm again, so I gave him more Motrin and then it got weird.  He grabbed his pillows that I let him play with (not sleep with...yet.) and he tried to put them on the entertainment center, then when that didn't work, he put them on the floor.  He went to slam his head on a pillow and his head landed on the floor, which is solid cement covered with wafer thin carpet.  I doubt there's padding between the two.

That was when I calmed him down, put him in his new pj's and put him to bed.  He's been yelling off and on ever since.  I am so tired, and I wish he'd just GET BETTER ALREADY!  I am so tired, but most of all, I want him to not be hurting anymore.

Pardon Me While I Vent...

Am I insane?  Is there something wrong with my grey matter?  I feel incredibly ...inadequate.  I know I have an incredible superiority complex, but I seem to have knocked myself off the very pedestal I made for myself.  I feel like an absolute loser because my son got sick.  I feel like I dropped a ball, like I let my precious little boy down.  I know kids get sick.  In essence, they have to, in order to build an immune system.  But Dante gets sick so rarely, and he's so gorgeous, and so smart, I feel like the defensive lineman that let the opposing team score a touchdown.

I am at a loss.  I feel like I try so hard to keep him safe and healthy and I actually may be suffering more than him!  I am an insufferable goober.

Oh, well.  I'm going to have a mini-breakdown and get him up to make sure he gets more fluids and such.  I'm also insanely curious as to what "present" I may find...

About Last Night...

That theoretically isn't over yet...

After Hubby got home, Dante puked on him.  It's like he waited....

So I checked his temp, got 102, and freaked out, and put him in a tepid bath, which pissed him off to no end.  And then it went downhill from there.  He was yo-yo-ing between 100.1 and 102, and we tried almost everything.  I put lotion in the fridge and then covered him in it, tried a cool compress, but he threw it.  Turned on the fan and played with him in front of it, switched between Motrin and Tylenol, and finally, right before we put him to bed, he had 1 1/2 saltines.  Put him to bed, and I fiddled on the internet, as per usual, and at around 5am, he woke up screaming.  So I hurried and hit the loo, and cuddled with him until he fell asleep.  I had a hard time sleeping because I was so incredibly worried.  And he cut off circulation in my arm, which is still a little sore.

At around 830am, he woke up and I heard him start to puke, so I directed him toward a towel that was miraculously next to the bed.  All it was was Pedialyte, but he still got a rinse off, and I swear to you guys, I am waiting for the cops to be called on us.  Dante just wailed like no other.  I checked his temp, got 104, which the on-call doctor told me was my stay at home threshold and got him dressed and we hauled balls to Rose.

When we got there, his temp was only 99.8, but she didn't even touch that thermometer to his forehead, so I knew it was wrong.  So this triage nurse took us to the back, and in mere minutes, the ER doc was looking in Dante's ears.  That's when he told me that Dante has an ear infection, which is INSANE since Dr. C didn't see anything in his ears yesterday.  Finally had someone look at his temp again, and it was 103.1.  So they finally gave him Motrin, but not even a whole dose since THE HOSPITAL RAN OUT.  I kept asking for them to look at his temp again, and all I heard was excuses and bullshit.  Eventually, after I kept being That Mom, I got a prescription for anti-nausea meds and amoxicillin, and  we got the heck out of there.  They didn't even notice that I had to change his diapers 4 times in less than an hour before we left, and when I expressed concern with the nurse that had our discharge papers over what looked like coffee grounds stuck to his butt, he just said that it's poo.  Gee, thanks, asshat, Your concern overwhelmed me. (Our entire stay at the ER lasted almost 3 hours when we had a diagnosis within ten minutes.  I am less than happy.)

So then I got Dante into his car seat, and we hauled balls to Target to get his prescriptions and some Jello, since he actually had one while we were waiting for someone to give a flying fu*k about us.  I also got him some oatmeal bath so we can (hopefully) soak his poor tushie later tonight.

Then I ran us over to Burger King because this poor little girl was doing some amazing ballet that can only mean "Feed me, crazy lady!" and then I got us home.  I knew there was no way he'd last much longer, so I got him pumped full of amoxicillin and tylenol and Immodium AD and now he's out like a light.

MY TURN!  This poor mama only got maybe an hour and a half of sleep.  Ugh.