Happy Birthday to ME!

I have now reached the ripe age of 32. How is it possible that I am 32? I refuse to say 32 sounds old, because I know I am not old, but I remember thinking 32 was old at one point in my youth. I remember my parents hosting a surprise party for a friend of theirs who shared the same birthday with me. He was turning 31, so it was his “Golden” birthday party. It was a big production. I don’t remember his name, or even who he was, just that I should expect some big production on my Golden birthday which seemed forever away. Last year I had my golden birthday, and it passed with very little fanfare. DH bought me a card from Toddler and Infant (who was still in utero at that point), and a good friend of mine came out to dinner with us. I got the standard greeting cards from in-laws, parents, etc., but there was certainly no big production. I’m trying to remember when my birthdays stopped being fun. I recall having birthday celebrations with my friends and family, and being made to feel very special. I think all of that ended when I moved in with DH. While I love him to death, he sucks at celebrations. Perhaps I haven’t forced the issue enough (or at all), but aside from a gift and a thoughtful note in a card he doesn’t do birthdays.

I don’t expect much from him tonight. He did say happy birthday to me as he departed for work this morning, so he isn’t clueless. He will blame his lack of gifts on the fact that I am picky and ungrateful when I get gifts. Sadly he does have a point, as on more than one occasion I have been less than nice about gifts he has given me (you should have seen the fish/waterfall candle…yes I could have been more tactful). I actually used my birthday to try to force Toddler to come upstairs to brush his teeth this morning. I told him he had to be nice to me on my birthday, it is just too bad he didn’t buy it. He just started in about how his birthday will be next (even though I reminded him that Infant’s birthday actually comes next), and that there will be presents and balloons. I guess my birthday isn’t too exciting for him unless he gets to open and keep my presents.

Oh well, at least my Mom knows how to treat me right. We just returned from a week-long trip to visit her (hence no blog entries here). She did in fact bake me a birthday cake, give me a new pair of earrings, and a wonderful card. I should remember that when I am buying something for her birthday…give good birthday gifts to people who treat you nice on yours, give lumps of coal to those who don’t.


Dr. Google

I’m still trying to find my groove with this blog, so please pardon week long absences from posting. I sometimes have trouble choosing what to write about, and end up writing nothing. Other times I have nothing to write about so I write about nothing, it is a weird sort of problem. I have never been one to keep a diary or a journal for more than a few days at a time, so I’m not surprised at my struggle. Anyway, bear with me and I hope to write at least a few nuggets of interest every once in a while.

The weekend’s major event was the unexplained nipple injury that prevented (still prevents) me from breastfeeding on one side. I have been having breast/nipple pain off and on for maybe two months now. It bothered me enough that I saw my doctor about it a couple of weeks ago. My web searching led me to believe that I must be dealing with a ductal yeast infection, so I went to my appointment pretty determined to get a prescription for Diflucan (Dr. Google couldn’t be wrong you know). My Doctor wasn’t convinced that it was yeast, but with the presence of a rash and nothing else noticeable he wrote a list of things I could try:
1. Do nothing – I’m thinking why would I have come in for an appt if I was okay with this option?
2. Hydrocortizone – I had tried this for about a day, and determined it wasn’t working
3. Diflucan – Can you guess which option I picked?
4. See a Dermatologist – Um, not unless #3 doesn’t work
So I’ve been taking Diflucan for a week and a half, and it doesn’t seem to be having any effect. I still have another week and a half to go though. I will spare you the details of what is causing the pain, but lets just say that there is blood involved (yes, this is where everyone asks me the dreaded question…why don’t you just wean?).

Infant is 10 months old, and after struggling through 6 weeks of initial pain while we worked on her lazy latch, and getting past her biting episodes I just don’t want to wean. It is an awesome thing to be able to breastfeed your baby. I love that it is a special bond that she and I share. Frankly it pisses me off that people think it is okay to ask me when I will wean, or to assume that because she is only 2 months from the AAP recommendation of 12 months of breastfeeding I’ve done “good enough.” I’m not going for good enough, and I’m not planning on cutting her off when she hits 12 months. I never imagined that I would be up for extended breastfeeding, but right now it seems like the most natural thing in the world. I suppose because I’m realizing that Infant will more than likely be my last baby, that when she weans my breastfeeding days are over for good. I should really try to enjoy these B-C cup days while I can, because if my previous experience holds true they will shrink down to A cups within a month of weaning. Sadly the booby fairy only sticks around my house when the milk fairy is here, oh well at least my jogging bras will all fit again when that happens.


Cheating on the treadmill

We had a warm stretch of weather recently (warm being a relative term here in the Frozen Tundra), warm enough that I decided to leave the treadmill out of my weekend running adventures. I hope the treadmill wasn’t too offended by the slight, but the thought of actually running somewhere was just too appealing to pass up.

It took me almost 20 minutes to track down all of my outdoor running paraphernalia since the treadmill and I have been such good buds for most of the fall and all of the winter. I set the Garmin GPS watch (fabulous running gadget that is technically DH’s but since he hasn’t run since shortly after his DNF in the marathon I have taken it over) outside to gain a satellite signal, came back in and stripped off my fleecy vest because it was too warm for it. I also had to make sure my Nike arm strap MP3 player had a new battery in it so I didn’t run out of juice for the very outdated tunes I’ve had uploaded on it for the past 3 years. It always seems like a good idea to upload new tunes to it when I am listening to Pink singing Let’s Get this Party Started, but when I get home I throw the player back in the running bin and forget about it until the next outdoor run. Hey I also have UB40 singing Red Red Wine, and that song is always a good idea isn’t it?

The run was fairly uneventful. I passed a gaggle of Army people who were congregated after a run (I assume because they all looked sweaty and many had red faces), I only know they were army because of the telltale ARMY on their t-shirts (yes I am very observant). I also ran along a road that is partially closed off to all traffic, and it was only barely passable by foot. Aside from that there were very few distractions along the way. I remembered what hills are, and my quads and hamstrings appreciated the extra workout they got running up and down some nice hills. I liked it enough that I ran outside the next day as well. Sadly, winter reappeared on Monday and our streets are now snow covered again. The treadmill and I resumed our relationship this afternoon, I did get to catch the end of Oprah so it wasn’t all bad.

Of Barf and Bowel Movements

How is that for a title huh? Infant has been sick since last Wednesday evening. She has been puking on and pooping through her outfits and mine several times per day. We brought her to the pediatrician on Friday, and were given the diagnosis of Rotavirus. I guess the virus just needs to run its course, and we just need to make sure she stays hydrated. We tried giving her Pedialyte, but she acted as though we were poisoning her with the “fruit flavored” variety. We had some luck by making Pedialyte ice cubes and putting them inside of the little mesh self-feeder for her to suck on. Otherwise the little monster just wants to nurse and then barf it back up on me. She seemed like she was on the path to recovery on Sunday, and was well enough for daycare on Monday so we thought we were in the clear. Unfortunately the princess of puke projectile vomited all over herself and me just before we were headed out the door this morning. Thankfully I have enough flexibility to work from home, but I’m finding it pretty hard to type on the laptop with Infant trying to get in on the action.

It is amazing how quickly your puke and poop tolerance increases. The first time I was puked on I was disgusted, had to take a shower immediately afterwards. The second time I was puked on I also showered, but not until everything had been cleaned up. When I was puked on this morning I changed her clothes and mine, and then got dressed again. Yes, I am sure I still have some lingering puke smell on me, but since I am working from home who is going to notice? As for poop, well I have a high threshold for nasty poop already since I have been changing Toddler’s diapers for over 2.5 years.


Warning sounds

Last night we were making dinner at home. The oven was set to some crazy high temperature, which was causing a good deal of smoke to form from whatever was burning off inside the oven. I quickly peeked in the oven, and I knew almost instantly that the smoke that escaped would set off our incredibly loud smoke detector. Sure enough, it did. DH was playing with Toddler in the small eating area off of our kitchen (directly below the offensive smoke detector), and he practically jumped into DH’s arms. Infant was in the same general area, and while she didn’t look happy she wasn’t really phased (though she too was scooped up into DH’s arms very quickly). I quickly rushed over to help, and Toddler leapt into my arms. He then asked if we could please go to the living room. If I recall correctly the smoke detector stopped sounding shortly after we made our way into the living room, but Toddler was still scared. I used my usually effective calming method of turning on a Toy Story DVD, but Toddler was still shaking. He asked me if we could go hide in the bathroom, which I found very odd. We didn’t go to the bathroom, and he eventually calmed down, but he kept talking about the incident for the rest of the night.

This wasn’t the first time the smoke detector had scared him. When we first moved into our house (a year ago already!), it went off along with the other buzzers that were connected to the then functioning (but not monitored) Brinks security system. At that point he was very frightened, and didn’t have anywhere near the verbal skills to express that to us (aside from by crying). He was so frightened back then that he would refuse to walk under any smoke detector in the house. I think that fear lasted for at least a couple of weeks, and made life difficult as we have smoke detectors scattered everywhere in the house.

At daycare drop-off this morning, Toddler started in about the fire in the oven and the smoke “protector” so I relayed the incident to our DCP. Thankfully she provided some clarification about the hide in the bathroom comment. Apparently when the Tornado warning sirens go off on the first Wednesday of every month, she takes the kids to hide in the bathroom until it is safe to come out again (when the sirens go off). It essentially becomes a Tornado warning drill once a month. Anyway, that conversation had Toddler stuck in a loop about going outside when there is fire in the oven, and hiding in the bathroom when there is too much wind. Sometimes my little guy reminds me of Rain Man (you know the Dustin Hoffman character) when he gets stuck in these loops, but I suppose they help him process the information. The thought of him worrying over these things just makes me sad. I so wish, that he could just rest assured that we will take care of him, but I know it is important for him to make these discoveries in life. I just wish I didn’t have to see that terrified expression on his face.


Phone phobia

DH and I have lots of plans for things we would like to improve around the house. We talk a good game, but never end up actually calling to schedule any sort of appointments. I recently subscribed to Angie's List, so I could get good sources of "pre-screened" contractors easily. I proudly showed the information to DH, who then lamented that unfortunately we still have to call the people. He said that what we need is for someone to actually call the contractors to set up appointments for us. He has a good point. Why is it so incredibly hard to pick up the phone and make appointments? It isn't as though we even want to find the best deal, just a deal, we are just too lazy to do it. Of course, my entrepreneurial brain set to work to come up with a business idea to deal with this realization. I could become a virtual personal shopper for all things service/repair/contracting related for others. I am willing to bet that there is a market for such a service...of course it would have to be easily accessible through email so calling me to help didn't encounter the same roadblock.

Why is it that the thought of doing this for others sounds so appealing, but I still can't manage to call anyone for our own needs?


Travel quirks

We are planning a trip to visit my Mom at the end of this month. This will be the first time we have flown on an airplane as a family of four. I'm not too worried about it, since in my former life I was a Gold Elite frequent flier, but I am already dreading the logistics of getting us onto the plane. I am one of those people who always packs way too much, and recognizes that fact. However, I know I will be running around the night before we leave trying to get everything ready for our trip. We will arrive at my Moms and I will not wear even 50% of the clothes I will bring. I will be tempted to pack things for my kids that they have never used to date, "just in case." I will bring back-up outfits for the kids for each day, completely forgetting the fact that my Mom does in fact own a washing machine. DH will also be a nervous wreck, since he hasn't flown more than a handful of times in his life, so he will be basically useless at offseting my anxiety.

I'm sure we will have a good time on the trip, Toddler will be awestruck by the experience since he likely doesn't remember his last plane trip (a year and a half ago), and Infant will not really know what is going on. I just hate the stress I allow myself to feel in the getting ready to go stage. It is not as though we are leaving the country, but yet I will feel compelled to pack three tubes of Desitin despite the fact that even with a really nasty diaper rash we couldn't use that much in 3 months. Why is it that I know all of this about myself, but still let it happen? I used to travel weekly for work, had it down to a science, could pack in less than 10 minutes, never brought extra things because there wasn't room for them in my carry-on. Leisure travel is much more stressful for me than business travel ever was. I will pack so much for this trip that we will risk being charged for oversized luggage. Oh well, at least I recognize the fact that I am crazy, that must count for something right?



Toddler recently discovered a box of barrettes I purchased for Infant's hair. He is a vision of loveliness with his 3 barrettes scattered through his fairly short hair and his new favorite footwear (his rain boots). I definitely need to capture the look on film (or in pixels to be more precise). The little plastic barrettes remind me so much of my own childhood, just looking through the box makes me smile. Thankfully Infant hasn't quite figured out that they are in her hair, because when she does I'm sure she will try to eat them. I just can't bring myself to cut her too long bangs, but they are so long that they now cover her eyes and it doesn't seem fair to leave them there.