Archive for the ‘Just Shoot Me’ Category

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Sympathy

I find that my capacity for sympathy is inversely proportionate to the amount of energy my son drains from me throughout the day.

Today was a beating.

He’s teething and he’s got to be one of the worst teethers I’ve ever met.  He cried ALL. DAY.  He wanted to be held the entire day so that he could wail without ceasing DIRECTLY INTO MY EAR CANAL.  Nothing I did pacified him for more than 5 minutes.  He’s hungry, but apparently it hurts to eat because every time I give him something he refuses it and starts crying again.  I’ve given up on Baby Orajel because he’s not a fan of having his mouth numbed and it just makes him cry more.  I am officially WORN DOWN.

Consequently, I’m taking him to Mother’s Day Out tomorrow and letting his teachers deal with him until they call me to come pick him up because I NEED A BREAK, even if it’s only for an hour.

Jens appears to have developed an infection in his broken hand.  This was not a good evening for him to be running around filling prescriptions for antibiotics when the single thing that got me through the day was knowing that he could take Koren off my hands when he got off work.  So while I had enough self restraint and sense not to bitch about it, the level of fussing and pampering he received from me over his pain and injury was pretty low.

Koren has already woken up several times.  I can tell it’s going to be a tough night.  For him.  I’m turning off the baby monitor tonight.

AAAGGGGHHH

Filed under: Body Issues,Just Shoot Me,Makes Me Grumpy,Pregnancy,Travel — Amy @ 9:40 pm

Pregnancy is not agreeing with me this time around.  I haven’t been sick (at least not since Christmas).  I’ve been more tired, but nothing unbearable.

I’m just BIG.  And I hate it.

I almost wore a pink shirt for Easter.  And then I looked in the mirror and saw a giant Easter Egg where my reflection should have been.

I did not wear a pink shirt for Easter.

I took a “six months pregnant” picture today.  I’d post it to prove my point but I think there’s some reason I don’t post pictures of myself on this site… though I can’t quite remember what that reason is right now.  Anyway, I look at least 8 months along.  It’s discouraging.  I don’t think I’ll be taking a “nine months pregnant” picture this time around.

In a short time I will be going to HAWAII for my MIL’s birthday celebration.  And I cannot believe I am doing this voluntarily.   When I was pregnant with Kaelin, my best friend got married.  Why do people always plan important events when I’m 7 months pregnant?

Oh trip, how I dread thee… let me count the ways:

  • 8 hour plane ride there… with swollen uncomfortable pregnancy legs
  • 8 hour plane ride there… with energetic 2-year old. Who maxes out at about 3 hours.  And refuses to sleep on planes.  And who can only survive those 3 hours when allowed to watch Dora on laptop.  And whose grumpy factor increases proportionate to how much TV she watches.
  • Maternity swimsuit
  • Maternity swimsuit
  • Maternity swimsuit
  • 8 hour plane ride back… more swollen uncomfortable pregnancy legs
  • 8 hour plane ride back… same 2-year old

Somebody just shoot me now.

Doh

Filed under: Just Shoot Me,Makes Me Grumpy,Work — Amy @ 4:19 pm

Remember all that data entry I did?  Well, I just got informed that they’re really revamping their product line and discontinuing a lot of stuff that was previously on their website.  Namely, the 300 items I had already entered.

Figures.

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Holy Crap

Filed under: Health...or Lack Thereof,Just Shoot Me,Kid Quotes — Amy @ 5:19 pm

I discovered a phrase today that I never want to hear again as long as I live:

“Maaaaaaama, I have poopies on my fingers.”

And she was so not kidding. In fact, that was an understatement. She had poopies on both hands, all the way up her back, on the carpet, on her shoe, and (very quickly) on my clothes.

Exploding Diaper of Doom: 1
Mama: 0

Protected: Bring on the Cheese, I’ve Got the Whine.

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Unable to remember the last time I was this mortified

Filed under: Are You Kidding Me?,Jens,Just Shoot Me,Marriage — Amy @ 6:34 pm

The underwear was still in the dryer when Kaelin and I got through with our shower this morning. With a towel around my head, I peeked out of the upstairs bedroom door to see if there were any observant passersby through the large window that looks in on our balcony. No one was out there, so I did my Lightning Judo Sprint and rushed across the balcony to the stairs. J gives me a hard time for being paranoid about somebody looking into our house and seeing me naked.

The blinds on the rest of the front windows were closed, so once I made it down the stairs I was pretty much safe. I had left Kaelin in the shower and she was calling something to me, so I stopped at the bottom of the stairs and called back to her.

It was then that I noticed some movement directly in front of me. A man with a tape measure standing at the back door (which is one giant window) was throwing his hand over his eyes and whirling away from the door.

Shrieking some expletive or another, I pulled out another one of my Ninja moves and dove across the living room into the bathroom. The dog started barking. I was trapped in the bathroom with no way to get to my clothing. J came down the stairs after the barking dog and I whimpered something to him about who the hell was looking into our back door and PLEASE BRING ME SOME UNDERWEAR.

He did, but not before stopping by the bathroom to laugh at my misfortune, not unlike the time I stood around laughing at him when Kaelin sprayed him with globs of projectile poo three times during the course of a single diaper change. We have that kind of supportive relationship.

Evidently, the Title Company had sent some guys over to do a land survey. J knew they were here because he answered the door while I was in the shower. He swears he yelled upstairs to me that they were here.

I don’t know what was worse: the fact that I full-on exposed myself to a perfect stranger, or his reaction of running away at the sight of my nudity. Perhaps it’s time to do some grooming…

Protected: Me and Limbo Do NOT Get Along

Filed under: Don't Make Me Cut You,Just Shoot Me,Work — Amy @ 2:43 pm

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Letters From Our Outbound Journey

Filed under: Just Shoot Me,Parenting,Travel — Amy @ 3:29 pm

Dear Guy In Front of Me on the Plane Who My Daughter Affectionately Dubbed “Bee-bo Head,”

Apparently your cowlick reminds her of a belly button, and as we all know, belly buttons have no other purpose than to be poked. Repeatedly.Thank you for being a hard sleeper.

Sincerely,
I swear I didn’t know she was going to do that.

Dear Man in the Airport Who Tripped Over My Daughter,

The short people in the world request that you refrain from walking backwards through a crowded building without watching where you are going. Thank you.

Sincerely,
She’s fine. But what were you thinking?

Dear Everybody on the Plane Who Sat Up and Turned Around to Stare When My Daughter Screamed Bloody Murder From the Back of the Plane,

We didn’t drop her. It’s 2 hours past her bedtime and J was trying to give me a break with the “standing up and holding her” shift. Obviously it didn’t go over very well.

Sincerely,
That Parent. The one wishing she could melt into the floor right now.

Dear Old Woman on the Plane Who Kept Distracting My Child From Her Tantrum by Making Faces and Telling Her She Was Too Sweet to be Making That Kind of a Fuss,

Bless you.

Sincerely,
This Close to a Nervous Breakdown

Note To Self:

Filed under: Confessions,Just Shoot Me — Amy @ 2:18 pm

Do not get so caught up in admiring New! Smokin’! Hot! Ass! that you neglect to put on deodorant before leaving the house.

Smelly factor automatically negates Smokin’ factor, and when you stop at the convenience store to buy a travel size deodorant stick, the kid behind the counter TOTALLY KNOWS why you’re there.

Maybe J Should Take Her Next Time

Filed under: Confessions,Just Shoot Me,Milestones,Parenting — Amy @ 10:54 pm

Yesterday we had The Visit… Kaelin’s 18-Month checkup at the doctor.

Actually, I should just start using the phrase “Nurse’s Visit” because I can’t remember the last time my child was actually seen by her doctor. Unlike some people, whose pediatricians have obviously spent enough time with their kids to recognize BOTH parents (!!!) in a non-office-type setting in which the child is absent, our pediatrician wouldn’t know my child from Winnie the Pooh, with the possible exception that my daughter is slightly less fuzzy.

So as other moms have so accurately detailed, there’s something strange that happens when an ordinary mom takes her ordinary child into the ordinary pediatrician’s nurse’s office. I don’t know the name for this phenomenon, but I think it falls somewhere between pensive insecurity and psycho-ree!-ree!-ree!

The first thing you have to do when you go in is answer a bunch of questions about your child’s development. The questions are yes/no answers and those are the only choices. Once you hit 3 “no’s” then you have to stop, signaling the end of your child’s developmental progress.

But it’s not like an internet quiz where you get results at the end. Nobody ever tells you WHAT the questions are FOR, or what they mean, or at what point it’s normal and OK that you have to stop.

Which makes it all the more nerve-wracking. All you know is that “yes” is good, and “no” is bad.

And here’s the kicker… if you don’t know the answer, or the child has not had the opportunity to try the skill mentioned – you have to answer “no.”

This is a problem for me because I’m not good at tests. Especially when I didn’t study. Because really they’re not testing HER. They’re testing ME.

YOU HAVEN’T HANDED YOUR KID 5 BLOCKS TO STACK? FAIL! YOU FAIL!

Now, most of the questions we breezed through pretty easily.

Can your child pick up a ball and throw it overhand?

One of her favorite hobbies is to remove the dog’s chew toy from his mouth, run away giggling while he tries to get it back, and then throw it at him. So I felt pretty confident in answering Yes to this one.

Without being guided by you, can your child scribble with a pencil or crayon?

Um…have you seen my bathtub?

Can your child recognize and point to objects in a book when they are named?

And tell you what it’s called and what noise it makes and what color it is and whether there are one! or two! butterflies.

Does your child know her body parts, like facial features?

Yes. She can name and point to hers, and mine, and her stuffed animals’ and Dora’s. …Ok, she can’t decide whether a shin is her knee or her foot, and she tells me her mouth is hot when her throat hurts…but she totally knows everything else.

Can your child string two or more words together to communicate?

If you planted a tape recorder in our house, you would hear a never-ending stream of “poopy butt!” and “owie arm, kiss!” and “open O’s please Mama” and “outside please!” and “go away puppy!” and “thank you thank you thank you” and “up stairs, open (the gate) please”? Yeah.

But then they got harder…

“Can your child dress/undress herself, other than socks, shoes, hats, accessories?”

Um…is she supposed to be doing that? I can’t remember if she’s ever tried, but I know if she had I would have discouraged the behavior. The last thing I need is my kid doing a strip tease in the middle of Target.

“Can your child hold and drink from a cup without a lid or spout, without spilling?”

Um…what? Do you know how much carpet we have in our house??? Why on earth would I voluntarily hand a 1-year-old a cup that doesn’t have a sippy top on it?

I’ll tell you why. Because this stupid question stumped me at the nurse’s office and was “no” #3. The end, you’re dead, thanks for playing. So naturally I had to go home and try it.

I handed her a glass of water in the form of a sippy cup without the handles and lid. And by golly – she did it! I mean, eventually she got some up her nose and down her shirt, but that was after I let her carry it around the house.

Which is all fine and good, but the nurse’s office didn’t know that she could do it …I had answered “NO” on the questionnaire. They think my child is inept at the holding and the drinking.

“Should I call the office and tell them to change the answer to that question? To say YES, she can hold and drink from a cup?”

“Are you serious? You’re still worried about that?”

“But she can do it. And I said she couldn’t.”

“So?”

The nurse had told me that most kids her age couldn’t do the holding and the drinking thing. The nurse had also told me that most 18-month olds threw tantrums during their checkups.

So why was I so horrified that Kaelin had thrown a tantrum about half-way through the visit?

Because it wasn’t like her. The nurse was getting the wrong impression of my daughter. She had woken up 2 hours early that morning and had not had a nap, in addition to just getting over a fever and sore throat. Under normal circumstances she would have been happy through the entire visit. At least until the rounds of immunizations.

Dear Nurse,

My daughter can hold and drink from a cup. Without a lid. Just so you know. And today she took her pants off all by herself. And normally she’s a very happy child but she was sick and tired at the visit.

I just thought you should know about that in case you were thinking about recommending that we hold her back from the first grade 3 years from now based on those questions. I also think you need to add an option after each question that says “If NO, please explain…” …or at least have “n/a” as one of the answer choices. You really should consider that.

Sincerely,
Does my kid get a gold star?

Dear Kaelin,

I’m sorry your mother is such a spazz.

Love,
Mama

PS: One day I fully expect you to start telling people we’re not actually related and that you found me in the park somewhere and decided to bring me home and now I just follow you around wagging my tail and begging for treats. Unfortunately, nobody will believe you because you inherited all my facial expressions.

About Me

Hi. I'm Amy. I started this website in 2005 as a place to deposit my journal and photos. It has gone through a few incarnations and masquerades as a family site, but since I'm the only one who contributes to it, it's really all about ME, ME, ME.

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