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The Run Down
I'm Jennifer
Mommy to Carson and Ella
Wife and Bossaholic to Tate
Nations foremost authority on kids pooping in pools and bathtubs. (Formerly)
Contact Me!
My StumbleUpon Page -
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Book List for 2008
Pillars of the EarthB-
East of EdenA-
The Kite Runner
Memory Keeper's Daughter
Water for Elephants
Nineteen Minutes
HP and the Deathly HallowsA++
Running W/ ScissorsA
The Rabbit Factory
Waiting for Birdy
Life of Pi
Outlander
Entries Tagged as ''
Hatin’ on the Binky
My goal this week was to not moan on my blog about colic or acid reflux. And I’m not.
But I didn’t make a goal not to be a binky hater.
Shel’s pacifier is going to be the end of me. One minute it’s our best friend, soothing and comforting her, lulling her to sleep. The next minute, all hell breaks loose.
All the pacifier is is a primitive (and rather ineffectual) mute button, providing temporary relief to us both.
She wants it…waaaaaaaaaaaaah, waaaaaaaaaaaaah, waaaaaaaaaaaaah!
She spits it out…waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah! WAAH, WAAH, WAAH, WAAH, WAAH, WAAH!
Then Shel wants it back….waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!
Wants it, hates it, wants it, hates it, wants it, hates it….
I’ve become her binky bitch.
She may only be seven weeks old, but I’m putting the kibosh on that f*cking pacifier.
I’ll be systematically weaning her from the f*cker. I am nobody’s binky bitch.
So far today..Binky 1,000, Jennifer 0
My cause isn’t looking good. Not good at all.
I Need to Work On My Lying Skillz, Just In Case
I spoke with Tate just a few hours ago. He had arrived in Knoxville for the retirement party he is attending.
“I miss you guys so much,” he told me as he was getting off the phone. He even sounded sincere.
Really, I certainly appreciate the sentiment that he misses us. Let’s be honest, though. He has a completely child-free evening ahead of him. There will be a catered dinner and free alcohol and he misses us?
I don’t think so. ‘Cause to be honest, if I were in his shoes, I wouldn’t miss us at all. Not even a tiny bit. And I doubt I could even sound sincere when I lied and said “I miss you guys so much.”
Maybe this makes me a shitty parent. But, the prospect of a child-free evening with friends, good food, and free drinks sounds pretty f*cking great. There isn’t even a possibility of one of these luxury evenings anywhere in my future.
Just in case I were to get away for a child-free evening, afternoon, or even bathroom break, I probably need to practice doing my best impression of a doting and devoted Mom, desperately missing my little darlings.
I bet that I could do a better job lying after I got a few of those free drinks down me.
A Pansy in My Panties
I found myself in quite a pickle yesterday at the doctor’s office.
First let me explain how my quirky brain works…I’m a rule follower. If you give me an instruction, I feel compelled to follow that instruction exactly as it was stated. (I’ve been trying to rebel a bit and be a rule breaker when it comes to memes.)
The nurse’s instruction to me was to remove my pants and undies and sit on the table, covering myself with the white “sheet.”
Hating to break the rules, herein lies my dilemma.
Shel was wailing. She needed to be held and consoled…preferably standing, this kid has an aversion to my sitting/consoling abilities. I didn’t know quite how to go about being naked on the bottom half, sitting on the table, AND consoling Shel (while standing).
Did I get naked on the bottom half, sit on the table with Shel and pray that just this once I’d actually calm her while sitting? How would I go about putting her in her carseat prior to the exam all while naked on the bottom?
I certainly didn’t want to walk around in front of the doctor and her nurse with my ass hanging out. Ewwww.
Did I stand naked on the bottom half while consoling Shel? How odd would it be for the doctor to come in with me just standing there without any panties on?
That would be really odd.
So I decided to stand in my panties, consoling Shel, while waiting for the doctor to arrive.
I hated to break the rules. And I felt like an idiot when the doctor came in and there I stood…in my panties.
Silly really, since she was going to be seeing alot more of me while spread eagle with my feet in the stirrups. And she did deliver my babies, so I suspect she’s seen much, much more of me than anyone else should ever see. Much, much more. Ewwww.
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Thanks for your input on the Mirena IUD the other day. Your comments helped me decide that the IUD was a no go for me. I decided to go on the mini-pill until Tate gets the snippety snip.
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Doody in the Pool
We had an incident in the tub last night.
Peanut pooped in the tub.
Just a nugget, but still, he pooped. Luckily it was easily, uh, retrievable.
So, does this mean I’m a full fledged “Mom” now? You know, now that I have my very own poop story.
Am I in? Am I! Am I!
Where do I pick up my plaque? Do I get a jacket, too!
Just In Case I Ever Want to Get It On Again
The feeling passed. I knew it would, cruel, cruel hormones.
But in my infinite “the glass is half-full” outlook on life, I hope one day it will return. You know, like in two or three years.
In the meantime, I should probably indulge my husband with my wifely duties and occasionally put out. I’ve been saying all along that I was going to have my husband neutered after baby number two, but after my less than stellar experience with the urologist, we’ve been rethinking the decision. I mean if they were going to send in a novice to remove my stent (with no supervision nonetheless), the prospect of allowing them to play with Tate’s man parts makes us leery.
Being blessed twice with colicky babies, this womb is closed to further occupants. Birth control is a top priority for me. Very reliable birth control.
Condoms certainly don’t fit my profile of reliable, so they are out. And they’re just icky. You may as well just call them mood killers with their useless ribbing and their smell.
I’ve been on the pill with great baby prevention success, but with libido consequences. As in, “I’ll just lay here while you do your thang. Mind if I catch up on my reading?”
After Peanut’s birth, I got a diaphragm. I know! It’s so 1970’s!. My doctor acted like it was the strangest request she’d ever heard. You would have thought I’d asked to keep my placenta so that I could take it home and cook up a delicious recipe.
Tomorrow, I go for my six week checkup with my Ob/Gyn. I am thinking about talking to her about the Mirena IUD. Since Dr. Google is the wrong person to ask, I thought I’d consult you all, Drs. Blogosphere, and see if anyone has any experience with this.
The thought of the IUD scares me a bit. I have vague recollections of copper things in my Health textbooks from high school. It also seems weird to have something inside you all the time. Kinda creeps me out.
Maybe we should reconsider a visit to the urologist.
At Least It’s an Attempt
You gotta have goals in life. You can’t go anywhere without goals, I say.
Here are my goals for the week. I’m aiming high!
1. Try not to bitch on my blog about colic or acid reflux.
2. Record three weeks worth of receipts in the checkbook.
3. Do Pilates three times this week and go for a walk at least twice this week.
4. Try not to get pissed off at Tate because he gets to go to Knoxville for a party on Wednesday and Thursday.
Here’s what is likely to happen.
1. I’ll post a blog about my dismay at Prevacid’s instructions on how to administer this f*cking medicine to an infant.
2. I’ll record two or three receipts and get distracted by blogging the children.
3. Do Pilates once, realize how my “core” no longer exists. Moan the rest of the week about how damn bad my abs hurt. And the walking? Yeah, well, it’s supposed to be 759% humidity and 1,000 degrees, so the walks probably won’t happen.
4. I’ll stomp around and huff and give the silent treatment because I have to stay home alone with the kids.
Hey, at least I have goals.
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