Wednesday, December 28, 2011

Max 2 year old pics!

I just got them back and am sooo excited! I love all of them! This is only a few of the 50! Isn't he the cutest thing ever?!

Sunday, December 18, 2011

upon reflection

Pondering the last few shit filled days with max & just in general, I wanted to point out some of the positives......

  1. That diarrhea wasn't involved.
  2. That child abuse wasn't involved.
  3. That a psych unit wasn't involved.
  4. That I was able to get sleep.
  5. That I have meds to help me.
  6. That all of a sudden Max will just lay in his bed and go to sleep without the milk sippy + holding in the recliner at night (as of like 3 days ago).
  7. That I have family to help me.
  8. That my boss/Amanda are flexible and understanding.
  9. That grandma Tam was able to come to the picture event. I'd have never made it.
  10. That Max gave kisses and "please" and "ank oo's" in between the terror moments.
He just diarrhea'd all over the recliner - which was still drying from the clean up of the puke. So I take back #1. I was going to keep going, but I'm pissed now.

Thursday, December 15, 2011

a rough one.....

It all started Wednesday night. Benj wasn't feeling well (we all feel like shit, is it going around??), so I was trying to be nice and picked up Max from the sitters and took him shopping so Benj could rest. Yeah, well that was a dumb idea. I stopped home and grabbed a go-gurt and some juice, just incase he got munchy, and we headed to Old Navy. I'm hunting for a shirt and/or some khaki's for Max's pictures the next day. Put Max in a cart, take his huge puffy "Christmas Story" coat off and leave his hat on. Immediately he tries to get out of the cart, and I immediatly put a stop to it. And there it started. Freak out cry cry, hit me, throwing shit, opened my purse and threw contents all over. As I am on the ground searching for my belongings, one arm up trying to keep the damn kid in the cart, I see a rack of boys long sleeve shirts - clearance for $5. Yay! So many colors and options! So I roll over and start looking thru. I knew I wanted some sort of blue to bring out his amazing blues, and of course there are 12 different blue ones. He is screaming. Thermal fabric or normal? Hell I dont know. I personally would hate thermal - would he? Here comes my anxiety. I look around. A lady with freaking newborn twins, like right out the canal, is pushing around a 12 foot double stroller complete with 2 huge diaper bags, blankets, coats, and half the baby section piled on top. Who goes out shopping with a newborn? Or 2?? Or any kid? Of course she is taking up a lot of room, so I have semi-stuck, which causes clausterphobia. More anxiety sets in. Another couple, 2 kids, 2 carts, 4 huge purses (it seemed like). Mom yelling "Honey, does this match? How about this? Go find a worker and ask if they have this in 24 months. Hurry! Sam GET OVER HERE," etc, etc. And dad is screaming back "Hey Jennie, look, here are matching sweats. Did Annie get boots this year? What was that shirt she had on last week that I liked?" Kids all of the place. At one point thier boy was on the bottom of one of the carts, driving it with his hands, and of course, hit the back of my ankles, which causes me to scream "shit!" to which I get "the look" from the parents. In the meantime I have tried to take pictures of 4 different shirts and text them to Rae and Manda (the only ones who were responding out of all my friends and fam) and the text wouldn't go thru. Damn AT&T. Max screaming he wants down, out, cry, cry. At this point I was almost in hysterics. Sweating. Tried to call Benj, who is home in the tub watching a movie and he doesn't answer, which pisses the hell out of me. Try to email Rae, the pics, they won't go thru. Max has taken everything out of the cart again and thrown it on the floor. Where is his shoe?? I give him a drink of his juice and he promtly spits it out onto merchandise. It was all I could do to not smack his face. So I slapped his mouth, not hard, and told him NO. Of course the lady next to me looks at me like I am a damn child abuser. Whatever. So I park my cart, gather Max and go outside for breather #1 of the night. Re-group, go back in. Put Max in the big part of the cart, trying to change it up for him. There are zeroooo khaki's in his size. I found one labeld 2T that literally could have fit me, if you know what I mean. Do they have shoes here, like to buy? What the hell are those? They look like the penny loafers I wore to the first day of school in Kindergarten. I don't know what color to get. I narrowed it down to 3. They are $5 each, to hell with it I will get them all. I'm standing in line and Max has emptied half of one of those ball bins, from his seat in the cart, I don't even know how. He does have a really long torso. Throwing them at customers. As I get all the balls back into the bin, some lady 'nudges' me telling me the line is moving. Hoe. Next thing I know Max has 2 nail files and is poking some little kid. As I am putting those back, he takes some gum and throws it at the cashier. Somehow finds his juice and dumps it out everywhere. Ok, in the  back of my mind I am nervous because the shirts I picked out are all that thermal fabric and I don't know if I like it. Plus they are 3T because the 2T looked too small. Shit. So I get out of line, sweating, and go back to the rack. Try 19 more times to call someone, anyone, for an opinion. I get Amanda's finally and just go with it. Back to the line. One of the workers is walking back from the back room with a "Caution, Wet Floor" sign + a mop forhis juice, glaring at me. It wasn't enough for a mop about it you big snot. Pretty much the exact same thing happens again, I pay and get thru. And it's a damn good thing the guy didn't ask me to open a credit card because he would have gotten a bitchy response. So I'm by the door, which isn't easy to get out of with a cart, so I'm trying to back out of it like a big fat dumptruck and and mentally looking around thinking "where the hell is Max's hat?" I love that hat. So back freaking in we go. 3 rounds and 2 employees looking later, nothing. I literally got on hands and knees and was looking under racks. Pissssssed. So I get in the car and immediately started crying. I gathered myself enough before I walked in so Benj wouldn't be stressed, but the minute I looked at him I started crying again. I told Benj to please clean Max's shoes for pictures tomorrow and went in my room for timeout #2. Re-group. Come out and get Max in the bath. I get that done, while he yelled and cried for ice the whole time, got him out and was trying to get him dressed. He was crying so hard he almost threw up. I looked at Benj and told him I was leaving. I was in my garments only, so I put a jacket on and went outside for breather #3. I felt like a smoker, sitting on my front porch crying and puffing air in the cold. Ahhhh.

Fast forward to today. We slept in, kind of, got up at 8:30 to get ready for Max's pictures. I wanted to make sure he got something to eat so he wasn't fussy. His breakfast of choice was yogurt with bread chunks in it (I used to do it, don't ask.....) so halfway thru that he gags on his flegm and throws up projectile all over the recliner. In the crevices. Cry cry cry. I didn't have time to properly clean that and get both of us ready, so out of the 3, I'm the one who didn't shower and do my hair. I couldn't get it cleaned up very good so I just did my best and tried to hurry and get myself ready. In the meantime you better believe I opened me a Dr. Pepper. I turned on Buzz thinking he'd sit and watch it. He started crying so I went in there (I was naked at this point, don't judge) and sat my ass right in freshly spilled apple juice. Like right in my crack. So I go back in and am doing my makeup and of course he has to be all up in my business. He emptied my case into the sink and turned the water on, on all of my makeup, before i could even blink. I slapped his hand and told him no, to which he starts bawling, borderline throws up again (meaning a handful of spitty stuff) and falls into the tub backward. I give him loves, wipe the sweat of my face, and try to continue getting ready. I'm thinking this whole time that I'm glad grandma is coming with us to pictures...... Next thing I know, my fresh DP is being poured all over the wet makeup I had just set out to dry. Ok, now I'm pissed. Deep breaths. Yada yada yada, We go pick up grandma and are on our way. I knew the general area of the place but couldn't find it exactly. So we were a pinch late and they are kind of nazi-like, which made me nervous. Max is immediately flustered; thinks we are in a doctors office. They take us back, with our male photographer, which initially made me nervous, and started trying to get Max comfortable. The guy was awesome, trying to get him to throw balls, play with cars, jump, eat fruit snacks, M&M's, anything. Nope. Max cried THE ENTIRE TIME. Tried to get out of the doors. Was clinging to grandma like a damn spider monkey. At one point the guy had me & grandma leave, which didn't work. He said this is the first kid who has stumped him. He said they normally get 50-80 shots and by the end of it he had 15, maybe. He told us it was no-charge and we could reschedule. They are awesome there and I love them, it was just Max was a TERROR. He said he would edit the ones he got and we could come back and look at them and just see. So we went to get lunch. The adults wanted Cafe Rio, but with the way Max was acting I knew damn well he wasn't going to sit in a highchair and eat beans, so Carls' Jr. playplace we went. Of course he was a darling angel once we got there. Laughing, smiling, playing in the playplace. Ate a little. Pooped. This was the best part of the day. We got back to look at the photos and ther are 2 cute ones and 2 semi-cute ones. Both semi-cute ones you could see a HUGE MASHED UP BALL OF KOOK on his shoe (hmmmm, didn't I ask someone to clean his shoes?). So they call in the office manager and the 'photoshop expert' to see if it could be fixed. It's a $5 charge and maybe was the answer. I just say to hell with it, let's reschedule. I don't know if Max is sick of what, so I did it out a few weeks. They are booked thru January but she found me a place at 8PM one night after Christmas, mostly because she could tell I was going to lose it any minute. I don't know how well 8PM will work, we will see. Did I mention that serisouly probably 90% of this story Max was crying????? We were trying to keep Max awake on the way home so his mother could get a nap with him. Yelling in his face, pinching his feet, etc. He was pissed. I was pissed. We get home, I give him some more Tylenol and a dash of Benadryl since he as so mucous-ee and let him run around until he gets tired. He was asking for Buzz, but SOMEONE lost the remote and so I tryed to get it on my phone. It kept cutting out and he kept crying everytime, so I finally just turned it off. Well, he wasn't having that. He rolled around on me and cried and kicked for probably a good hour. I was frantically texting Benj, calling my mom, etc. He wouldn't stop. I finally put him in his bed and shut the door. Not 20 seconds later he puked all over his bed and the floor. Get him out, rip off his clothes, he is clinging to me bawling. I feel semi bad for him. We lowered his bed so even I can't reach the matress, so I was trying to hold him, bend over and get the dirty sheets/blanket, and pinch his leg. CRY cry cry. At this point I am crying too. I try to lay him in my bed with me. He is soooo tired he can't keep his eyes open, yet he won't freaking sleep. He wasn't having my bed, so we end up on puke drenched recliner, still wet. I put him in a headlock and tried to give him his sippy with milk. Finally he drank some and spit it out. AGHH you are kidding me. Sitting in puke, milk all over. I smell something yucky, besides the puke. Yep, the milk is sour. Terrific. I get up to change it out, which I don't even know why because he doesn't drink it anyway, and he freaks out because I left him on the chair alone. He chases me into the kitchen and trips on his sock. I trip on a freaking toy on the way back and full on fall to the ground with a stubbed toe. I can't even see straight I'm crying so hard. Max is turning the Christmas tree lights on and off and on and off, crying. We are about 3 hours into it now. I put him back in his bed and he actually layed down!! Ah! So I sit by him for a second. Once he starts breathing normal I am assured he is asleep and get up to walk out. NOPE. Freak out cry scream throw up again. Whole scenario again, start another batch of wash yada yada. We are both hyysterical again. I call my dad to see why the hell my mom ins't answering (I thought there better be a damn good reason, like she is in the hospital, for example) and he was quite alarmed at my state. He called around and found her, but by the time she called, Max had FINALLY fallen asleep on me on the chair, so it woke him up. I cannot even explain how horible this whole thing was. I swear it was worse than it even sounds. Something is off with my meds anyway because this whole week I have been a wreck; crying, mad, upset, tired. I packed him up and took him to the brother-in-law and left him there. I came home to see if I could lay down for a while and I was so damn anxious I couldn't sleep. And now here I am. I'm a wreck. Arguably one of my top 5 worst 24 hours ever. Right up there with Physch unit entrance #1 and the postpartum poo day.

Ugh, I feel better venting.  Hope tomorrow is better. And I am not proof-reading this - sorry Amanda.

Wednesday, December 7, 2011

are you kidding?

I was flipping thru a magazine at lunch today, which I haven't done for a looooong time. The 65 year old nurse I was eating with knows more about the Kardashians than I do. I just found out today thier dad was the lawyer for OJ Simpson...... Anyway, I came across a few things that I just couldn't resist taking another half hour talking to my friends about and then scanning them in to my work email and so I could post them. Maybe I am over-reacting.

Favorite Holiday tradition: Vanessa Hudgens says "opening presents in the morning"


Isn't that what everyone does?? Does she think that is just her tradition? Does she know what a tradition is? (Do I?) Stupid comment. Stupid. She is, however, hot. (p.s. - here's a fat joke for you: I was eating chips during lunch and see those two dark spots on that lady's dress? yep, greasy finger spots. pretty sick.)

I know, it is obvious that "snooki" is a big idiot. I thought everyone was aware of that. Apparently, someone isn't though because they went and let her "write" not one, but TWO books. On being a "Guidette"???? What the hell even is that? No, really? If she was a tour guide, maybe, maybe she could pull that off, but isn't she just a sluttly little fowl mouthed puke? Are people serious? Like 3 people looked at that ad while I was there and no one said a word - like it was normal. Wake up pale? I understand the eyelashes. Whatever!! What a freaking joke.

 And finally. Carmelo and Lala. That's right, I said LaLa. As in, "La de freaking da-la". Please don't tell me you read that name and thought it was normal just now. Are you kidding me? Carmelo is one thing, and if Caramello candy bars weren't so good, I'd be bitching about his name too. Call me rascist or whatever, but a lot of African Americans have some messed up-made up names (Shaniqua, LaFonda, Quarlisha, SNOOKI, etc) (is Snooki black?) and this, my friends, is a perfect example. Don't. Even if it is a nick-name, for hell sakes grow out of it already. At the very least use your real name for the magazine. Seriously. {Let me just interject here that there are plenty of "white" made up names I could whine about too.... Talon, Canyon, Timber, etc}.

I either won't be reading magazines for a while, or I will and have to continue bitching about the dumb celebrities. Until The Bachelor starts again....