Looking Back…

2008 has been one helluva year.

I spent the last 36 years of my life waiting for this amazing little boy to find me.  I still don’t know how it happened, or why we were able to make a baby where there had always been a big empty space.  It started with a little Christmas morning nookie, continued with a positive pregnancy test, and finished with a healthy, beautiful baby boy.

The first 3 months were so hard.  SO HARD.  I found myself hating him more than I loved him, because I didn’t understand.  I didn’t realize that the good times were right around the corner, waiting patiently for us to work through the bad days and the sleepless nights and the endless hours of crying.  But we made it through.  And I’m more in love than I ever dreamed possible.

Every day, I can’t wait to get out of bed and hear his silly little giggles and look into those big, innocent, trusting eyes.  I can’t wait to see what the day holds, even if it’s only a 2-hour nap nestled warmly in my shoulder.  Those are my favorite times, the moments when he’s sleeping on my chest and I can hear his sighs of happiness and drink in his sweet, soft, baby smell.

In spite of my relentless complaining and whining (HEY!  Colic is insufferable for all involved), I wish for everyone who wants a baby to have one.  No matter what you have to do.  No matter how much it costs.  No matter if you have to steal an infant out of an unguarded car at Walmart.  (Kidding about that one.  Although the thought did cross my mind in my most desperate hours.)  Just do it.  Whatever it takes.

Because it’s worth every, single sacrifice you have to make.  He’s worth it.

They’re all worth it.

Happy 2009, baby boy.  I love you with all my heart.

Random Musings + Resolutions.

Why can’t anyone make a toilet bowl brush that doesn’t rust??? Cleaning the toilet is icky enough, without using a rusted up brush to scrub under the bowl. I can’t use the handy dandy disposable ones, because we live in the sticks & I’m scared the pads would wreck our septic system. If I can’t put eggs or raw chicken or potato peelings down the disposal, I would bet those little cleaning heads aren’t safe, either.

How does infant clothing correspond to a baby’s age? For example, should my 4-month-old son be in 3-6 month clothes? My aunt & I had a huge disagreement about this on Christmas. I thought their size should correspond to their age; but she thinks their size should be double their age, and Mason should be ready to move into 9 month clothes.

I’ve been working on a reflection post to wrap up 2008; but every time I sit down to write it, I start tearing up. It was a whirlwind year to say the least, and I still can’t believe it all really happened.

Does anyone else make resolutions for the new year? I usually don’t; but I’m breaking my non-tradition to write down a few goals for 2009.

Resolution #1. I will lose 100 pounds over the course of the year. I decided to give Weight Watchers another try, and will reevaluate my progress after 3 months. At that time, I’ll decide if I should continue with WW or switch over to South Beach. I really want to try South Beach; but I’m going to be under a tremendous amount of stress in the next 3 months. The Husband will be in Texas for 2 weeks in January; in England for 3 weeks in February/March; and in Utah for 3 weeks in early April. I’m familiar with the WW program; and I don’t think I should add any more upheaval to my life while he’s gone.

Does anybody want to join me? I ordered the WW at home program today, and I’m more than happy to share information. I’ll probably start another blog to share recipes & whatnot, and will update once I get it all sorted out (hopefully over the weekend).

Resolution #2. I will start keeping a hand-written journal of letters to Mason.  I’ve read some of the monthly newsletters other bloggers do for their children; and I think they’re a great idea, but I want him to have something more personal and private.  And I found these great journals on Amazon for $13.89.  I only hope he appreciates it when he’s an adult and has children of his own.

Resolution #3. I will get back into photography.  I’ve gotten lazy and lost my creative drive, and I’ve let an overwhelming sense of self-doubt creep back into my life.  I look at the pictures I’ve taken and think they’re not good enough; that they’ll never be good enough; and I want to throw my camera to the bottom of Lake Michigan.  It goes hand in hand with the self-loathing from gaining all this pregnancy weight, and feeling like nothing I do is ever good enough.

Resolution #4. I will faithfully clip coupons and do everything in my power to lead a more thrifty life.  And cut out the unnecessary purchases, like magazine subscriptions and luxury bed linens.  This unstable economy scares the bejesus out of me, to the point I don’t sleep at night because jobs are being cut every, single day and we’re in debt up to our eyeballs.

What do you do to save money?  I already get my hair cut at Fantastic Sam’s, rather than a higher-priced salon.  I color my own hair, which saves about $30 each month.  I use super cheap Dial soap, rather than the expensive shower gels from Bath & Body Works.  I hang laundry out to dry when the weather is nice (except for towels – I can’t stand the stiffness from line-dried towels).  I shop at garage sales and the seasonal farmer’s market.  I buy generic or store brand whenever possible.  And still, I feel like I’m missing some obvious penny pinching ideas.

And with that, I’m off to bed to try & sleep off this wicked headache.

Christmas Crankies.

Christmas made me realize one very important fact: I am a jolly fat man, trapped inside a cranky fat woman’s body. Perhaps this is how the transgendered feel!

Our Christmas was low key, but still really enjoyable. Christmas Eve, my parents came over for pizza and merriment, followed by our traditional holiday gift exchange. Dave got me a breadmaker (handy for the South Beach Diet we’re thinking of starting – more on this later), some sewing gadgets, a box of bandages for future sewing mishaps, and an itunes gift card from the dogs.

My parents gave me some books I wanted – one on sewing, one on women entrepreneurs, and one on starting a home-based business. And a down alternative comforter for our bed. And some gift cards for Home Depot. We’re going to extend our deck (!!!!!) in the spring, so they bought us the gift cards to put towards lumber. Or a nice wooden swing. Our choice.

I actually bought Dave a really great gift. For $99, he can take a discovery flight at a local airport. He’ll get 30 minutes of ground instruction, then take a 45 minute flight where he gets to take the controls & fly the plane. How cool is that?!?

And my parents bought Mason some really good toys. A musical elephant, a bunch of teethers, and a huge pack of discovery toys. And the Radio Flyer rocket we fell in love with.

Christmas Day was chaotic. We did our $10 family gift exchange. I ended up with a car costume – a pair of antlers & a red nose, to make the car look like Rudolph. It’s very cute, but will have to wait until next year. Dave got a couple of stuffed Christmas moose that my aunt snagged at a garage sale for $5 and a blanket.

We ate too much, but my new mashed potatoes were a big hit. I quartered about 25 medium red potatoes, and threw them (with the skins on) in a pot of salted water with minced garlic. I left them cook for about 30 minutes, drained them, then mashed them with a stick of butter and 2 cups of half & half. I also threw in some more minced garlic, some dried onion, and about a cup of shredded parmesan cheese. I left them in the slow cooker on the warm setting all day; then turned them on low about an hour before we ate (just to get them good & hot). They were sooo good, and much easier to prepare than peeling all those baking potatoes. And leaving the skin on gave them a bit of color and left a little of the vitamin in the potato. It made 20 servings, and each serving was only 210 calories & 9 grams of fat. Not bad for mashed potatoes, especially when my family usually makes them with whole milk and 2 pounds of velveeta and a ton of butter.

The only downfall? Mason had a MAJOR meltdown when we got home last night. He was passed around like a plate of brownies all afternoon, and needed to come home and unwind after being overstimulated all day. He cried and cried and cried for about an hour, until he fell into an exhausted sleep. Poor peanut. And tomorrow, we’re supposed to drag him to my brother’s house, 2-1/2 hours south of here for another fun-filled day of Pass The Baby.

Now that Christmas is over, we’re all thinking of great gifts we should have asked for. A web cam, for when The Husband travels next year. A pair of snow pants for The Husband, since we’ve had 40″ of snow in December, setting a new record for the highest snowfall ever on record for December.

It was a bad month, and I’ll be happy to flip the calendar to January. The weather was terrible, and I never managed to get Mason to the mall for a picture with Santa. Bad momma!!!

Did you do anything worth mentioning? Were you able to check a few items off your wishlist? Did you snag any post-Christmas bargains today?

In any case, I hope you all had a wonderful Christmas, and are looking forward to the new year as much as I am.

Silliness.

No time for a meaningful entry today – I’m wrapping our presents, plus my parents gifts for each other.

Instead, I give you gratuitous happy baby. Enjoy!

Oh, sh*t.

News flash to my brain … Christmas is NOT on Friday!!!!!

For the last, oh, I don’t know, two weeks or so, I’ve honestly believed that Christmas was on Friday this year. I ordered gifts from Amazon and Target and a myriad of other places last week, thinking I had plenty of time to unpack them & wrap them on Wednesday and Thursday.

I leisurely mailed our Christmas cards today, because I figured most people would get them by Thursday. And wouldn’t that be nice – receiving a Christmas greeting on Christmas Eve?!?

After we finished eating dinner, I did some online grocery shopping & scheduled my pickup for December 23rd at 2:30 in the afternoon. Wednesday, December 23rd, that is.

As an extra reminder, I decided to scribble myself a note on the calendar to pick up the groceries on Wednesday. Until I looked at the calendar, realizing TODAY IS DECEMEBER 22nd, not December 21st!!!!!

I just lost 24 whole hours. Which shouldn’t be a big deal; but it is, when it’s 3 days before Christmas and less than 48 hours away from our little gift exchange with my mom & dad. I won’t even have the last of their gifts until Wednesday’s UPS delivery, which usually comes around 5:30 at night.

Crap crap crap crap crap crap crap.

But hey! It’s all good, because Mason said “Mama” today, clear as a bell. He doesn’t know what he’s saying, doesn’t understand that “Mama” equals that very large woman who brings him bottles and changes his stinky stinky poop pants and sings him X-rated versions of his favorite little songs. But it was still nice to hear in that sweet little boy voice.

We sometimes hear him, when he’s in his crib or in his swing, saying “Hi!” and “Hey” and cackling away as if he were 40 instead of 4 months. But he’ll never say it when we’re in the room with him (unless he’s realllllly tired – then he’ll chant “Hey Hey Hey” over and over until he falls asleep). It’s like he has this enormous secret that he’s not willing to share with us, and he laughs with delight every time he says something.

But I hear you loud and clear, little man. And I know you’ll be sharing your secrets with me soon enough.

Shirley, you jest!

Every year, my family does a $10 “Ginchy Gift Exchange”. We started it about 6 or 7 years ago, to take the pressure off buying gifts for everyone. Show up, bring one gift, and leave with something (hopefully) better than what you brought.

In the beginning, it was a contest to see who could buy the tackiest, most obnoxious load of crap for the paltry sum of ten dollars. But the last few years, it’s become a parade of singing, dancing, “Made in China” crap. In fact, last Christmas, 3 out of the 14 people participating brought the exact same stupid singing bear!

So this year, I decided to pool my resources and make something. I prefer homemade gifts, and thought it would be nice to put together a simple Christmas wreath. Now, I’ve never made anything floral before; so I didn’t know what I was doing. I bought a bunch of undecorated wreaths on clearance at Michael’s last year for $1.00/each, so I really only needed to make a bow and hot glue it all together.

I asked The Husband to watch Mason for a few hours, since I needed to find all the goodies I tucked away last December. He agreed, so I headed down to the basement to try and make some kind of pretty arrangement.

It all came together pretty easily. I spent less than an hour on it, and I’m pretty happy with the results.

It’s not perfect, but for my first effort and only $10 spent, I think it’s pretty cute.

Anyway, when I came back upstairs with said creation in hand, the baby was fussing and griping away. The Husband looked at me and said,

“Now I see why you get nothing done most days.”

He should be released from the hospital in a week or two.

Ready for a baby?

Lest you think I’ve been prone to exaggeration (!), here are a few videos of my son at his finest.

This one, taken on Halloween.  Colic is such an ugly, exhausting affliction.

And this one, taken just 3 nights ago, after a long, trying, napless day.

The quality on the 2nd one is pretty bad; but who needs a visual?  Just turn your speakers up nice and loud for the full effect!!!

A Holiday Message

Sunday morning, The Husband had to run a few errands & decided to pick up a Papa Murphy’s pizza for dinner.  On his way out of the store, he slipped on a patch of black ice & face planted into a huge puddle.  He tore his jeans, scraped his knees, and suffered a massive blow to his pride.  The pizza and garlic bread were ruined, but the liter of Pepsi miraculously survived.

Earlier tonight, he was supposed to go to a meeting with other people who homebrew beer.  However, we both had long days & he decided to skip it and go next month; opting instead to pick up pizza and try, try again.  And I’m happy to report he and the pizza made it home without incident.

Until.

He wanted to give the baby his bottle, so I threw the pizza in the oven.  15 minutes later, the timer went off & the house was filled with the aroma of sweet, sweet chicken & artichoke hearts.  I took the pizza out of the oven, and as I was turning to set it on the counter, I felt my hot pad starting to slip.  With the pizza accompanying it.

Yeah, you guessed it.  SPLAT!  All over the floor.  Because they never land face up, do they?????

I think God is trying to tell us something.

Eat less pizza.

Holiday Hell.

Every year around this time, I get extremely angry.  It starts Thanksgiving Day, when all the sale ads tout their huge Black Friday sales.  “GET READY FOR CHRISTMAS”, they scream at me, as if presents are what the holiday is really about.  It gets even worse the day after Thanksgiving, when my 37-year-old brother and his 31-year-old wife hand their gift lists over to the rest of the family.  Something about grown adults who earn over $200,000 a year demanding we buy something off their wish list drives me absolutely bat shit crazy.

On one hand, I can see their point.  If someone is going to buy you a gift, you may as well ask for something you want.  But on the other hand, it’s presumptuous and straight up tacky.  Shouldn’t you be happy just to get a gift, without placing an order for it?  Maybe it’s the economy and our bleak financial picture; but I feel like I should be the last person on earth telling someone else how to spend their hard-earned money.  We’re just so so so different, my brother and I.  I just don’t feel right, asking someone else to buy me a gift, just because it’s Christmas.

Then, around the first week of December, the anti-Christmas snozzwanglers start spreading their hypocritical bullshit.  They protest at the Christmas displays around the city, because we dare to set up a nativity scene.  They insist we say “Happy Holidays” instead of “Merry Christmas”.   They want to take religion completely out of Christmas, when the very holiday is celebrating Christ’s birth.  Not how many stupid presents Santa can cram under the tree.

And another thing.  These people who claim that my Christmas intrudes on their religious beliefs.  Do they insist on working Christmas Day, even if the rest of the company has the day off?  Because it shouldn’t be a paid holiday if you don’t celebrate it, no?!?  You can’t have it both ways.

I’m just tired of gift shopping.  Trying to find the perfect gift for my mom, which she’ll hate and bury in the closet with all the ghosts of Christmases past.  I try and buy her something nice, or something she’ll use; but she’ll complain we didn’t buy her the ove glove or the sham wow that she really wanted.

Trying to find anything to keep up with my husband’s compulsive shopping.  We set a limit of $100, which translates to $500 for him.  I try and follow the budget, and he always buys me something expensive and extravagant.  My gifts look cheap and pale in comparison, and I end up resenting him AND the gifts because he couldn’t play by the rules.

All of my shopping has been and will have to be done online.  We got another 4″ of snow last night, with 6″ – 10″ coming tomorrow night.  And another 4″ – 6″ on Saturday afternoon.  I’m stressed out enough, taking care of a kid who can’t sit still for more than 30 seconds at a time.  And I can’t drag Mason out on the bad roads in this cold weather; and my parents are too busy with their own little lives to babysit.

I feel like a failure.  I’m not adjusting to motherhood as easily as I thought I would.  My kid is the stuff of nightmares, with the constant crying and hourly temper tantrums because I can’t carry him and stay in motion 24/7.

And he doesn’t nap during the day.  He’ll nod off if I hold him, but jolts awake screaming 15 minutes after I lay him in his crib.  He’ll partially wake up, realize he’s not being held, and start screaming until I go and get him.  If I lay him down before he’s asleep, he’ll scream until he’s hoarse without ever falling asleep.  How do I force him to nap?

The baby books and websites all say to leave him cry for a maximum of 10 minutes.  But they also say he should be getting 12 hours of sleep each night, plus 2 naps of 2-3 hours each.  What the hell?????  How many hours do these people think are in a day?

Mason can’t handle more than 5 ounces at a feeding.  Anything more than that gets projectile vomited back up.  With his tummy issues, I have to feed him and try and get him to lay still for an hour to give his belly time to settle.  He’s a slow drinker, so the bottle and rest period take 90 minutes.  Since he eats every 3 hours, the longest he’d really nap would be another 90 minutes (assuming he immediately fell asleep, which he NEVER does).

But I can’t hold him all the time, either.  There’s always laundry to do, and e-mails to read and send out, and phone calls to make, and bills to pay, and meals to be planned and prepared, and cleaning to be done.  And I need to shower and try & grab a bite to eat, too, while bouncing him from place to place to place to try & keep him entertained.

I’m sure the doctor is going to tell me he’s cranky because he’s sleep-deprived.  Yeah, no kidding, Captain Obvious.  He’s short 3 hours of naps and an hour of evening sleep every day, for a whopping shortage of 28 hours each week.  My kid is losing an entire day of sleep in a 7-day period.

I wanted a baby so bad.  And now that I have him, I realize how much easier life was before he got here.  I wouldn’t trade him for the world…….I just wish I had enjoyed my independence a little bit a whole lot more.

And let’s not forget The Husband’s upcoming travel schedule, shall we?!?  2 weeks in Texas in January.  3 weeks in England in February and March.  Two weeks in Utah in April.  Back to England for another 3 weeks in May.  And again in June.  And again in July.  And another 2 weeks in England in August.

How do people do this every day?  I count my blessings and know exactly how lucky I am.  But yeah, it’s still overwhelming and exhausting.  At least during the daylight hours.

Conflict Resolution.

Every day, I think of about a million different things I want to blog about; but I just haven’t had the energy to sit down at write it all out.  This very entry, for example, was started last Thursday.  As in five days ago.

Every time I think I’m making strides at this whole motherhood thing, The Spawn of Satan has a horrendous day and I’m knocked on my pudgy posterior.  Again.

Like today, for example.  The tyrant woke up screaming at the ungodly pre-dawn hour of 5:00.  I heard him rustling around at 2:30, and again at 3:15, and again at 4:23.  I don’t think I mentioned it before, but we moved him to his “big boy crib” in his own bedroom just after Thanksgiving.  Since our house is so small, we don’t bother putting on the baby monitor unless one of us is in the shower or otherwise indisposed.  Besides, the second he starts crying, one or both of the dogs come running to find us and tattle.

Anyway, The Husband took the first feeding and gave him a nice, long, warm bath to try & soothe him back to sleep.  It worked, albeit only for another hour.  But hey!  An hour is long enough to brush my teeth, take a shower, dry off, fix my hair, get dressed, empty the dishwasher, make bottles, throw something in the slow cooker for dinner, and check e-mail.  When I went to get him after his snooze, I found him covered in desiccated baby vomit.  Chunks of curdled brown formula were dried on everything – his clothes, his hair, his sheet, and his blanket.  And so begins my day of exasperation.

By noon, we’re on our 4th outfit, our 9th bib, and our 15th burpcloth.  Shortly after lunch, he usually starts wailing & only stops after we’ve tried the jungle mat, the swing, the bouncy chair, the rocker, the exersaucer; after we’ve yelled at each other about how neither of us can understand what the hell the other one wants; and both of us have cried thousands of big, round, fat, wet tears.

Later on, after we’re both exhausted and watching the clock wondering when the hell Daddy is going to get home, The Husband swoops in and can’t understand why I’m throwing the remote at his head because his darling little precious boy is all cuddly and snuggly and happy for the last 3 hours of the day.

And I love my son.  Oh, sweet Jesus, I love him more than I thought possible.  When he’s beyond tired and he lays his head on my shoulder and I call him my poor, tired, little neenee and he says “hey hey hey” over and over again until he falls asleep.

And the big grins he gives me when I rip off his socks and help him play with his little piggies, making squeals of pure joy when he grabs his toes and squeezes too hard.

These moments are fleeting, though, and the hard times still seem to outweigh the good.  But I have faith we’ll get there sooner or later.

To make matters worse, the weather has been AWFUL.  We’ve had over 23 inches of snow already, and the parking lots are covered in ice.  Other than going to my parent’s house, I haven’t had Mason out in over 2 weeks.  It’s barely getting above zero during the day & the wind chills are well below zero.  I can’t justify taking him out in that.

Plus, the stores are crazy right now.  I have to park miles away from the entrance, jockey his car seat across the icy parking lot, and hope to God there’s a cart at the entrance.  Then other little kids want to sneak a peek at him & touch his face and hands with their own grubby, snot-covered little fingers while I try and shield him from the coughs and sneezes of the masses.  I’d like to go as long as possible without catching a cold, thankyouverymuch.  I know I can’t keep him in a bubble……but that doesn’t mean I want him exposed to germs the size of Texas, either.

And hey!  We’re expecting 12 more inches of snow in the next 5 days.  I want to find the S.O.B. who penned “Let it Snow Let it Snow Let it Snow” and bury him under an avalanche of ice shavings.