Practically Grown

This is going to be short and sweet..........Maddy rolled over today for the first time ever...From back to tummy...she is a big girl now and we hardly know what to do with her now that she can practically vote and take out loans. We were total dorks and texted everyone we knew including the realtor we used 1.5 years ago. So what? Maybe she'd like to know too.

Another "Firsts" in Maddy's book: She went to the beach this past weekend for the first time.

She hated it. It's on video to torment her when she's older and begging us to go to the beach. We'll just tell her that she hates the water (per video) and she should study instead of lay out.

Here's proof of not only her cuteness but her busy activities:

Weird.

The last time I had my hair done was right before Maddy was born.
Getting my hair done is one of my guilty pleasures. Every time I pay the rediculous bill, I convince myself it's part of my "professional appearance; no one wants a nurse who looks disheveled. If she can't take care of herself, how can she take care of you?"
I don't get my nails done.
I don't buy clothes or jewelry.
I don't buy new purses or shoes.
This is it, people.
Deoderant and hair.

Besides, I wanted to look "put together" for the pics right after Maddy came into the world. Like having a baby is no big deal.
Yea right.
I ended up looking like a raccoon who had been run over twice with a mutilated rat atop its head.
Pretty much my every day look.

Anyways, today I made a hair appointment. I LOVE getting my hair done and yes...she is 11 weeks old which means it's probably been 12+ weeks since I've had my hair done. Scandalous.

This was my first experience scheduling something with a kid...to which she could not attend. And it was weird. I couldn't do ANY of my hairdresser's times! (Jason will be working, Becky will be in class, I will be getting ready for night shift).

I almost told the receptionist to "forget it" and hung up the phone. Then I caught a glimpse of my 6 inch roots and decided I wanted to at least look professional for my patients with "up-kept hair." So I decided to sacrifice my sleep after work next week and go (what sleep anyways? I probably wont even notice my fatigue). And I thought "I will have to find a baby sitter." Weirdest thought EVER.

And for the record: this appointnment is AFTER I begin work again. My patients are going to be scared of the leaking, crabby nurse with horrible roots. Who hasn't inserted an IV or catheter or removed staples or a PICC line, done chest compressions, or packed a wound in 3 months.
Ha.

Too bad reviews are next month. I'm sure I'll get a great raise.

Did I mention I am behind going to the dentist also?


Off to watch my kid almost roll over. Sniff.

Dry with a chance of rain..

If you ever want to experience self-induced torture, hang out with a woman who is "weaning" herself from pumping.

You'll hate your life and want to run as far away from the crabby b%tch as fast as you can. Heaven forbid you give her a hug on your way out the door. She'll punch you in the face. Or worse, the groin, depending on how long it's been since she's pumped.

For cheap entertainment, call (or visit if you're brave enough) the woman while she's trying to care for her baby while it is having a melt down. You'll hear "child-friendly" variations of every curse word as the mother attempts to hold and soothe the baby while it pummels her chest and kicks the mother's "grocery supply" with its chubby legs. "Holy Smokes, Maddy that hurts!!" "Frick!"

Priests must loathe a woman who says "bless me Father, I have sinned. It's been 2 months since my last confession and I am currently weaning myself from breastfeeding." The priest probably has an I-Pod just for these occassions. It's probably the standard:
-"I almost murdered my husband when he reached across me for the remote."
-"I almost murdered my husband when he was trying to be nice and give me a bear hug."
-"I screamed at the lady who bumped into me in Publix turning the corner and smashed my cart into her cart for making me feel like grenades just went off on my chest."
-"I threw the biggest temper tantrum when I realized we ran out of Ibuprofen."
-"I have said or thought every curse word imaginable."

Now do you understand why I'm trying to tackle this problem before work? My patients would be afraid to ask me to help them up. I can just see it now: attempting to help an elderly out of bed. They lose their balance and fall into me (which ALWAYS happens). At 3 am, a scream so terrible is heard through the halls. The staff comes running into the room where I stand sobbing clutching my chest while the patient sits terrified of the psycho nurse.

I'd rather avoid having to explain that to administration. So, I'm taking it out on my poor family.

Everyone send Jason a card for support. He's a trooper.

"S is for.."

Poor Maddy.

Tuesday was her 2 month check up which means SHOTS. As the day crept closer and closer I suprised myself by remaining calm. As a nurse, and typically the "mean lady" who stabs patients with 3 inch needles quite routinely I was bound and determined to NOT be a cry baby in the pediatricians office. I did not want a sticker and lollipop being offered to ME to help calm me down. They are necessary for her health and I was going to be CALM and COLLECTED.

I was so set on being cool as a cucumber I told Jason there was "no need" for him to come with "we will be just fine." Famous last words. Besides, we were so prepared we already had a bottle of Baby Tylenol on the counter.

The night before her appt. poor baby broke out in a diaper rash. Great. She has only had a teeny tiny diaper rash one other time in her 2 month life but this one looked BAD. She would scream bloody murder when we put the cream on her which made us think it was burning, so we had to rush out and buy "special cream" that would not burn but nip the rash in the bud. Great. Right before the Dr apt. Crappy parents.

The morning started off great. I had given Maddy her bath the night before so we could eliminate that morning ritual (I'm telling you people, I had this all mapped out for success). I woke up early to get my breakfast and coffee down before the beast awoke. We had our morning stroll, tummy time and play time all complete with giggles and smiles. It was going to be a smooth day.

Then began the worst 3 hours of poor babykins life. Stupid mommy noticed that Maddy's fingernails were quite long. Usually I'm on top of her boogers and long fingernails but I guess I've been slacking. WELL--baby CAN'T go to the dr with long fingernails; what on earth would Dr. Shaw think?! So I began clipping. Baby jerked. AND I SLICED HER FINGER OPEN.

She screamed, I screamed, she sobbed, I sobbed. There was blood everywhere. On her bib, on her carefully picked out outfit, on her face, all over her hand. I couldn't get it to stop bleeding. IT WOULD NOT STOP BLEEDING! (This is of course, 20 minutes before we're supposed to leave the house). I was FRAZZLED. Finally I wrapped a Band-aid around the wound and put her in her Bumbo chair because I had to pump.

So. Picture this. Frazzled Mommy crying sitting at the table pumping while baby sits in her chair with a giant Band-aid getting soaked through with blood on her tiny finger sniffing and looking pitiful. Then baby decides to get mommy back for ripping her finger off and POOPS AN EXPLOSIVE POOP that not only shot up her back but exploded out of her diaper and got all over her Bumbo chair. Frazzled Mommy jumps up and in the process ends up SPILLING BREAST MILK ALL OVER HER PANTS.

Yes. This really happened. We were supposed to leave 5 minutes ago.

So. Not only did I have to change my clothes, I had to change everything on Maddy, wipe all the poop off, clean the blood off that covered her face, somewhat clean her bleeding finger and tend to her diaper rash.

We finally presented to the MD office
-Late
-Dried bloody finger
-Diaper rash
-Long fingernails on the hand I didn't clip.

Though the doc gave her a clean bill of health and told me to "not worry about the finger, every mom does it at some point" and that her "diaper rash is barely there, just keep putting cream on it" I felt like a failure. Needless to say when the nurse came to give Maddy her shots, I was more than willing to help her so we could get the h outta there.

I held her chubby little thighs as the nurse dove in with her daggers. Maddy screamed. I held strong. All proud of myself we walked out of the office until I realized:

I was the mean guy who held down her legs. Sigh. Hope she forgives me.
Jason can take her next time.


Snuggling with her Draggy

Waiting for her shots.


She said she forgives me


Snuggles with Grandpa

So Proud

Wednesday was a moment in Mommy-hood I hadn't ever thought about before: buying toys. Maddy and I went to Babies-R-Us to quickly buy more diaper pail bag refills...the kid poops more than I can even describe so our diaper pail bags hardly last if you can imagine.

Shopping at Babies-R-Us is rediculous. It's the type of place that people scoff and sneer at yet once they step inside, their "5 minute trip to pick up diaper pail refills" turns into a hour-and-a-half marathon of baby/mommy interaction, helping expecting Grandmas pick out breast pumps and pads for their daughter (yes, this really happened), and dream-like bliss of seeing babies, mommies, and preggo bellies everywhere.

How the Place Sucks You In:
For example: I refuse to change Maddy's diaper ANYWHERE except my car. There are too many germs on all the disgusting baby changing stations in bathrooms. Even though we have a changing mat, I REFUSE. I would rather get poo on my car seats than put Maddy on one of the germ infested plastic changing tables. Besides, they're practically falling off the walls.
And: I also am not a fan of feeding her in public. If possible, I will feed her in the car, or make sure I'm not out too long; i.e. feed her right before we leave the house and feed her as soon as we get home.
Babies-R-Us totally sucked me in.
Not only do they have A ROOM JUST FOR FEEDING YOUR BABY but their plastic diaper changing stations didn't look as disgusting as the rest stops on the road. I totally conformed and became "that mom" who not only changed her baby's diaper at the mecca of all baby stores, but yes..I sat on a bench in the entry of the store and gave her a bottle.
Anyways, I had decided that it was time for Maddy to experience loud and annoying musical toys. After treking up and down each and every toy aisle to find the "perfect" first toys for Maddy, we proudly left with her first:
-Glow Worm. Yet it is the 2010 version: "Glow Dragon." Super cute and its tummy lights up and Brahms music plays for 5 minutes. We now use it to trick her to go to sleep.
-Mirror. What can I say, my baby is vain and loves to look at herself.
-Mobile for her crib. I am convinced the kid can see more than we give her credit for, and she is now a fan of the sheep wearing dresses (I know..) that spin round and round and round and round.
To sum it up: I will continue to shop at the over-priced, rediculous sell out store of all time. They cater to my germ-phobias, and it's where Maddy received not only her first outfit, but her first toys.
Maybe next time I'll venture into the "Feeding Room."
Maybe.

Got Milk?

For the most part I think Jason and I have a good system for feeding Maddy. We keep bottles in the fridge and always have 2 out at a time....feed the baby, take another bottle out of the fridge, fill another bottle up and so on......

We totally slacked today. Lazy day, I guess.

Maddy began screaming as usual...if she realizes she's famished not just hungry, her screams are quite loud. And annoying.

Due to our laziness, there were no bottles warming up on the counter. Now, we have a bottle warmer and we could have easily taken a bottle out of the fridge and warmed it in one minute no problem. I just happened to be pumping at the same time so, what the heck, she can just wait a few minutes and she can have what I'm pumping.

So- while I'm imprisoned to the chair and to this machine that I LOATHE, Jason came up to me holding a screaming baby, placed an empty bottle in front of me and said "Fill 'er up, Bartender...make it 4 ounces."

I am a dairy cow.