Jenny at Absolutely Bananas awarded me this!!

I’m just a leetle beet excited! Thank you!

There are lots of Rockin Girl Bloggers out there. Here are a just a few very deserving women.

Sarah at In The Trenches of Mommyhood. My New England gal pal. So witty and clever. I love hearing about her boyz and their neverending adventures!

Mamma at Mamma Loves. I’m fairly new to her blog, but I love her. Her recent post about her adventures in a port-a-potty sealed my devotion to her blog!

Erika at Plain Jane Mom. I just know we’d be friends in real life if she didn’t live all the way in California, that is if she’d have time for me! She’s quite busy with all her blog reading and different websites!

Poot and Cubby. I am a very new reader to her blog and I love all her posts. We have loads in common and similar senses of humor.

Megan at Velveteen Mind. Amazing writer. A-MAZ-ING. I’ve met her in real life, so hopefully her smarts will rub off on me!

Heather at The Queen of Shake-Shake. Her posts give me blog envy. Thank goodness I know her in real life, or she might think I’m stalking her!

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Michele at I Got Two, Babe must be crazy.

She thinks I’m going to age! Ha!

I’ll be 29 forevah!

Oh wait, you all know that I’m 32. Shit.

So here’s a meme about me as an Old Woman.

When I am an Old Woman I hope to:

Travel. Travel to places with white sand beaches, crystal blue waters, and pina coladas. Travel to Ireland. Travel to Australia. Travel to Canada.

Have season ticket box seats to St. Louis Cardinals games.

Live close to my children and grandchildren.

Be healthy and fit. And beautiful (even with wrinkles and flab). And a breast lift.

Finally have read the classics instead of just having skimmed the Cliff Notes.

Volunteer my time to worthy causes for women and children.

Have a housekeeper and personal chef.

When I am an old woman I will not:

Be on a low-carb diet.

Offer assvice to those younger than me if they haven’t asked for it.

Own an RV. Or a Buick.

Guilt my children.

Become Old Lady Playgroupie to the neighbor kids.

******************************

Jean at Working Momma 24/7 has me figured out.

I love to eat. I especially love to eat out.

She tagged me for a restaurant meme.

Here are the rules:
1. Link to name of person that tagged you.
2. Include state and country you live in.
3. List top 5 favorite local restaurants.
4. Tag 5 other people and let them know they’ve been tagged.

Lower Alabama, US of A

I can’t do just local, as in Alabama local. I’d be remiss in not mentioning some of my favorite local haunts in my former residences.

Watch out, I’m a rule breaker!

1. Mexican Villa, Springfield, MO. You haven’t lived until you’ve had the Burrito Enchilada Style. Sure, those around you will be cursing you for the odors you’ll emit, but I swear it’s so worth it.

2. Trailhead Brewery, St. Charles, MO. I wish I could eat their chicken nachos everyday. So delicious, with multi-colored chips (which all taste the same, but they seem better than uni-color chips), beans, smoked chicken, cheese, black olives, and jalapenos. Oh and the beer! How could I not mention the beer first! I’m sorry, beer, you know I love you.

3. Calhoun’s. Knoxville, TN. Great ribs, spectacular Spinach Maria, and beer. A great place to go before University of TN football games.

4. Krekel’s, Decatur, IL. This place is a dive! Greasy burgers, fries, and milkshakes! No wonder I gained so much weight when we first moved to Decatur!

5. Big Ed’s Pizza, Oak Ridge, TN. The best pizza in the entire world. ENTIRE WORLD. I’m not even kidding.

The dilemma is now on who to tag. I know several of you are suffering from over-tagging, others of you covet the tag. I don’t know who does and doesn’t wish to be tagged so…

Here’s who I tag:

1. You
2. You
3. You
4. You
5. You (you didn’t think I’d forget you now did you!?!)

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There are certain words that Tate and I have learned to refrain from saying when Peanut is within a five mile radius (he’s always within a five mile radius, we are never alone). I’m not talking about the obvious words like shit, f*ck, and ho bag. These are everyday, common words whose mere mention are a sure fire way to incite a monster, blubbering, screaming tantrum.

We cannot utter anything dealing with “outside”. Talk of wagons, cars, trucks, sprinklers, bubbles, grass, lawn mower, Deut (neighbor cat), mailbox, trash truck, and the word outside itself, are all OFF LIMITS. He yearns for all things “outside” and if any of the aforementioned words are spoken, he’ll believe that it’s time to go outside. Right that very minute. And of course, going outside isn’t an option right that very minute when you’ve accidentally uttered the off limit word. Cue tantrum.

Recently, we’ve learned not to mention anything associated with Blue’s Clues. He’s always been a fan (in his loooooong 19 month existence), but lately his love has reached new heights. Much to my chagrin, he has become rather attached to Joe. Yes, creepy Joe. We do not speak the name Joe. Ever. Otherwise, it gets U.G.L.Y. We also don’t ever refer to the color blue, even in regards to his crayons. I conveniently never mention it’s color when we have the crayons out. Sure we talk about red and orange and yellow, but blue? Never mention it. An accidental uttering of these Blue’s Clues related words can send Peanut into a frenzy, frantically demanding to watch an episode.

As much as I love that he is a good eater, he’s a little bit too good at eating his favorite food…cottage cheese. He calls it cot cheeeee. Some days I think that if I hear cot cheeeee one more time, I’ll just implode. For breakfast, he asks for cot cheeeee. At lunch he demands cot cheeee. By dinnertime I’m ready to set him in a bath of cot cheeee and let him wallow in it. So needless to say we never speak of this curdy concoction.

Speaking of cottage cheese, Shel spit up the other day. Peanut saw the spit up and clapped and gleefully yelled cot cheeeeee! Uh, not exactly, Peanut. Not exactly.

Thank goodness he doesn’t get too many looks at my ass.

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On the way to the hospital yesterday, Tate suggested we have some folks from work over for dinner.

We were on the way to the hospital and he was suggesting we host a dinner party?

Um. Okay.

Let’s see what’s wrong with this.

We were on the way to the hospital. Because our baby cries all the time. It’s possible that we wouldn’t make the best hosts seeing as we have a baby who cries. All. The. Time. And it’s worse in the evenings…when you usually host dinner parties.

And this crying baby? She’s making it near impossible to keep a neat house. Dog hair, dust, toys, bits of paper, stuffed animals, shoes, laundry piles….surround me. The bathrooms, they haven’t been cleaned in weeks. We live in a literal pig sty.

Then there’s the sudden weeping. My lack of clothes that fit due to my post-pregnancy body.

Oh yeah, I haven’t cooked a meal in weeks unless it can microwaved or comes out of a can. I can’t eat dairy. And I’m supposed to cook a meal for other people to come over to my loud, pig sty home and eat?

I also have a need to overachieve. If we have people over, I would want everything to be perfect. I have fantasies straight out of the 1950’s of the perfect dinner party. Standing rib roast, caramelized brussel sprouts, herbed mashed potatoes and pie for dessert. Cloth napkins, beautiful place settings, complete with name cards on my lovely table decorated to perfection. Cocktails in high ball glasses and Frank Sinatra playing in the background. Great conversation.

I have nothing to talk about right now except acid reflux and crying.

So maybe right now isn’t the best time to host a dinner party.

***********

In case you can’t go to BlogHer, come join us for FibHer ‘07 with Sara’s review of FiberSure and Berry Blast Metamucil.

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I asked you all last week to come up with a better take on my If You Give My Toddler a Blackberry-PDA Edition post last week.

Please go check out these entries!

Jean at Working Momma 24/7 had this hilarious text messaging/high cell phone bill entry!

Jessica at It’s My Life Laugh If You Must offered two versions, a toddler version and an adolescent version.

This one is from Beth at Working It Out. It’s along the same theme and it’s too funny not to share. I swear I’m laughing at the situation, not at them!

Thanks for playing along you all!

If anyone else has one to add, let me know in the comments. I’ll update this post and add your entry.

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Great news to report…Shel does not have pyloric stenosis. Whew. Dr. Google scared the crap out of me last night.

I know better than to consult Dr. Google. I know better!

And the panic about the procedure itself was completely unnecessary. She did fine with the barium, she did fine with the bottle.

I know I’m a broken record, but thanks for the crossed fingers, thoughts, and prayers. Thanks. I wish I could buy you all a drink or a Mercedes to convey how thankful I truly am.

As far as my other worries about breastfeeding, I have no plans to stop breastfeeding. Dr. M, the pediatrician, is not very educated about breastfeeding. If it comes to her recommending that I stop, I’ll respectfully decline that plan of action.

I do seem to have a powerful let down, so I’m going to try pumping for a few minutes before feeding Shel so that she won’t get the brunt of the onset of let down. I may even try to feed her for a shorter amount of time. I’ve already eliminated dairy. If needed, I may start eliminating wheat, gluten, whatever to see if it makes a difference.

Only if I’ve exhausted all possibilities will I consider switching to formula. I feel that this plan is the right thing for Shel. And selfishly, it’s the right thing for me. I know logically that formula is not bad. It’s my own perception of myself as a mother that would be bruised.

Speaking of being bruised, Dr. M asked me if I needed Prozac. Her concern for me was appreciated, however, I’m not depressed. I don’t know what it’s like to be depressed, but I do know that what I’m feeling is not depression. I’m sleep deprived, I get weepy, I’m overwhelmed. I’m not feeling hopelessness. I know that things will get better.

I certainly don’t need Prozac, I have all of you! Dr. Blogosphere is certainly a cheaper alternative to pills and therapy.

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I’m scared. The pediatrician assures us that she just wants to rule it out.

Tomorrow we are going in for an Upper GI to rule out pyloric stenosis.

We.

Actually we aren’t. But my poor baby is.

She’s hurting and I don’t know what to do. She’s getting worse.

I know it’s just an X-Ray. But ruling out pyloric stenosis, which is treated with surgery, scares me. She’d be in the hospital overnight, not here at home where she belongs. Somebody else would be taking care of her.

If it’s ruled out then we’re going to try Prevacid. And if that doesn’t work, the doctor suggested not breastfeeding and switching to formula.

It felt like she punched me when she said that. And it’s not that formula is bad.

I could be causing her pain. Which I already knew. It’s just different when a doctor suggests you stop breastfeeding. I don’t want to stop. I’ll feel like I’ve failed her and myself.

I shouldn’t be worried about things beyond tomorrow.

I’m not wired that way.

I just want her well. I want her to stop crying. I don’t want her hurting anymore.

Updates later. Hopefully good updates. Hopefully. Keep your fingers crossed or pray, whatever it is you do.

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