Happy Mother's Day

A little over three years ago, I was awarded a new title. No, I was not named the “Duchess of Cambridge” or the “Duchess of Cornwall.” Even better, I was awarded the title of “Mom.” 

Never the maternal type, I was scared. I mean, I didn’t earn this title (unless you count nine month of pregnancy and 15 hours of contractions and a huge dose of Pitocin that didn’t work and an epidural that fell out and had to be administered a second time), why was I entrusted with this person?

Newsflash – God knows what he’s doing. Because this little person gave me a sense of worth I never thought I’d get. 

Does she drive me absolutely freakin’ insane?? Of course she does. That’s God’s lesson in humility and patience. (And, I think, quite frankly, his daily dose of pleasure.)

She also loves me unconditionally. Nothing, and I mean nothing, makes my day more than her huge smile when she sees me after a day at daycare and running at me full-blast to give me a hug and a kiss. When I tell her I love her, she responds with “Love you too.” Nothing can top that. Ever. 

It makes me proud to watch her grow and learn. The pride when she does something insanely intelligent is amazing. I mean, I used to thrive on always being right and hearing someone tell me I was intelligent or good at something. I don’t care anymore. Just tell me my child is intelligent and that’s all I need to hear. It’s no longer about me.

Truthfully, I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Happy Mother’s Day!

Leopards never change their spots (haha, and neither will I)

Child attacked by leopard at Kansas zoo

A child on a school outing was attacked by a leopard at a Wichita, Kansas, zoo, authorities said Friday.
Can you imagine the conversation that night over the dinner table?

“So, sweetheart, how was your field trip to the zoo? Did you see anything cool?”
“I saw lions, tigers, and a kid get mauled by a leopard. It was awesome.”

The boy, a student from Linwood Elementary, was with classmates on a field trip at the Sedgwick County Zoo when, around 1:15 p.m., witnesses said, he "went over a railing" and approached the Amur leopard exhibit, said Lt. Jay McLaurian of the county sheriff's department.
First of all, that sentence is just freakin’ awful. I seriously think I’m going to go into convulsions after reading that – it’s the written equivalent of a strobe light.

Second … “went over a railing.” That just leads to way too many questions. Did he think it was a good idea to go over it willingly? Was he pushed? Was he leaning too far and just fell?

Then again, you know, perhaps he said, “Hey y’all, watch this,” right beforehand. It would be fitting.

The leopard was able to reach into the mesh covering of its enclosure and grab the boy by his head, McLaurian said.
Chomp!

I love the phrasing here (read: hate) – the leopard was able to … um, no dumbass, the leopard was not only able to, the leopard did.

The child was rescued by bystanders who rushed in and "beat the animal" away from the boy, officials said. According to McLaurian, the boy received injuries to his face and neck and was taken to a hospital for treatment.
Beat the animal away from the boy? Really? Was it like an angry mob with sticks? Umm, hello, did any of you think that, possibly, maybe, if you pissed that leopard off that you might be next?

He is expected to "be OK," McLaurian said.
What awkward sentence structure. I mean, to put quotes around just “be OK.” But how reassuring that he is expected to be OK, I mean, wouldn’t it suck to be like, “Well, yeah, we got him there, but we don’t expect him to make it through the night.”

The boy, who is 7 years old, was in fair condition Friday afternoon at Via Christi Hospital on St. Francis in Wichita, CNN affiliate KWCH said.
Just fair? He’s expected to be OK but he’s only in fair condition? I would have expected good or stable or something. To me, fair is one step above critical or serious. Well, you know, it is Kansas, what do they know there other than wheat farming?

Students from several Sedgwick County schools were at the zoo on Friday and witnessed the attack, and the school district immediately took steps to notify parents, according to Susan Arensman, spokeswoman for Wichita Schools.
What involved notifying parents? Sending home a letter?

“Dear parents:
Today, while your child was on a field trip to the local zoo, your child may have witnessed various wild animals and an incident of ‘When Animals Attack.’ Be prepared for awkward dinner conversation and possible nightmares. Rest assured, though, the child attacked by a wild animal is in the hospital, in fair condition, and is expected to be OK. No harm, no foul.
Sincerely,
The Wichita City Public School System"

"One of our first-graders was injured by one of the animals," a letter that was sent home to parents whose children attended the same school as the victim read.
Oh, man, that sort of takes the fun out of the previous smart-assed comment. Dammit.

A similar letter was also sent home to parents from other Wichita schools.
Oh, yay, trees killed mercilessly. And how much you want to bet the letter wasn’t even read by 95 percent of the parents. God knows I hardly ever gave papers to my parents unless, of course, their being signed was part of my homework credit or something. Ever the over-achiever, I would always make sure I did that. Yep, loser, I know.

Shortly after the attack, school officials assembled a crisis team to help the students process what happened, and assure them that the victim would be OK, said Arensman.
A crisis team, really? 

"Counselors will also be available on Monday to offer additional help to students," Arensman said.
Counselors. Honestly? Is this really necessary?

“I just can’t concentrate on my math. Every time I look at those numbers, I think of Jimmy – he loved math – and I see his head as a snack for that giant cat. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to do math again.”

The zoo was evacuated for a short time after the attack but remained opened after the incident, officials said.
Evacuated? Because a leopard noshed on a kid’s head THROUGH some netting? First of all, the leopard got the snack it so desperately wanted, so I’m sure it wasn’t really a threat with a full belly. In fact, it probably just wanted a nap after that. Second, it’s not like it was free-range, running through the zoo. The story gave no indication it ate through the mesh surrounding it, so I doubt it was a threat to anyone.

Amur leopards, which are listed as an endangered species, can grow to 4 to 6½ feet long and weigh anywhere from 60 to 150 pounds, the zoo's website says. They are native to Far Eastern Russia and northern China.
Wait, they are an endangered species – isn’t beating an animal on the endangered species list  a crime? Uh oh, look out – you guys may have saved that kid, but committed a crime in the process. Last I knew, seven-year-olds were not an endangered species … I’m just saying. (Okay, it was a joke, relax.)

You want to get your kid drunk? Just go to Applebee's!

Tipsy Toddler: Restaurant Mistakenly Serves Alcohol to Child

It was toward the end of their meal at an Applebee's restaurant in Detroit when Taylor Dill-Reese noticed something odd about her son, D.J.
Really, it took her this long to realize her kid was odd?

The 15-month-old boy was acting strangely, his mother said. "He was saying hi and bye to the walls," she said. "He eventually laid his head down on the table and we thought maybe he was just sleepy."
Honestly, my toddler says “hi” and “bye” to a lot of things, and I’m sure she’s done so to a wall a time or two. It’s because they are toddlers. Toddlers are crazy. This is the time in their lives when it’s acceptable to have a conversation with a stuffed dinosaur and not be thought crazy, I don’t see why the wall would be any different. Plus, you’re at an Applebee’s. They have pictures of all sorts of has-beens on the wall, maybe he wanted to talk to them. You just don’t know.

Maybe so, but the toddler was also drunk. He had been served alcohol mixed in with his apple juice.

Drunk = sleepy, so it’s all good.

Served alcohol mixed with the apple juice. Good times. Remind me never to order Munchkin apple juice at Applebee’s.

Let’s think this through – a snafu with the apple juice … at Applebee’s. How apropos.

Police said it was an accident; a mislabeled bottle at the bar was poured into a cup for the child. Applebee's said it's looking into the matter.
Are the police sure? Maybe the toddler was irritating some people. I mean, the waitress could have been pissed at the kid for throwing food on the floor, so she figured if she got the bartender to slip him something, he’d go to sleep. Or maybe he was throwing food AT people sitting at a nearby table and they instigated it – and paid for it. “Hey, sweetheart, get the toddler over there a mixed drink, it’s on us.”

The mislabeled bottle at the bar story doesn’t work for me. Number one, they said earlier it was mixed in with the apple juice. Pouring a kiddie cup of apple juice does not involve multiple bottles. Which means this kid got straight liquor because they weren’t mixed. Sure, yeah, the original bottle could have been drained and they had to get a new bottle out, okay, but wouldn’t someone notice the liquids didn’t look the same while pouring. I mean, piss-colored drink in the cup and clear liquid being poured in is very obviously two different things. It’s not rocket science people. Which brings me to another question, who doesn’t know what apple juice looks and/or smells like? Why couldn’t the bartender tell what was going into that cup wasn’t apple juice, if it was mislabeled or not?

Plus, let’s harp on the parents for a little while, shall we? Didn’t they smell it? I would think you’d be able to smell it from a distance. Did you not taste it? I’ve totally been known to steal a few drinks from Munchkin’s drinks. But, that’s the bad mom in me coming out. (Rest assured, if we order apple juice anywhere that it doesn't come in a clearly-marked box, I will be taste-testing!)

What about the kid, if it tasted funny, why did he drink it? Granted toddler’s palettes aren’t very refined, but you’d think he’d recognize it was not apple juice.

"Obviously, any situation like this is unacceptable," Applebee's said in a written statement. "We are working with local authorities and conducting our own investigation to assess exactly what happened."
A situation like this is unacceptable? You think? What else were they going to say? “Obviously we find this situation to be funny as hell, and kudos to all the people who didn’t pay attention to make this possible. We will be introducing a new happy hour every night from 7-8 for our patrons 3 and under. If they don’t puke after the first one, the second one is free!!”

Alright, now, they are working with local authorities (really, what are the cops going to do here?) and conducting their own investigation. How much of an investigation is warranted? Find the supposedly mislabeled bottle, see what’s in it, find the bartender and find out what the hell happened. End of investigation. We know no one will ‘fess up to this, so just figure out what went wrong and fix it. If it’s truly an “accident,” then no one needs to be fired over it.

Applebee's has been in this situation before. In 2006, a New York City Applebee's admitted accidentally serving a 5-year-old a Long Island iced tea alcoholic drink instead of apple juice.
Wait, they’ve been in this boat before? Really? But wait a minute, wait a minute … this one is more ridiculous. The kid is five. The kid clearly knows what apple juice tastes like and is clearly old enough to verbalize “This isn’t apple juice,” or “This apple juice tastes funny,” or something like that. So, yeah, the idiot kid just wanted to get plastered.

"Within minutes, his eyes were glazed," the child's mother, Cynthia Pereles, said. "It was clear he was under the influence."
LITs have nothing but alcohol (save for a shot of Coke to give it color), you can’t tell me you didn’t smell that across the table.

LITs are served in glasses. (In some places, giant fishbowls!) So what sort of idiot mixed one and poured it into a kiddie cup anyway?

In 2007, a California restaurant served a margarita to a toddler in a covered, plastic sippy cup. Again, the patrons had ordered apple juice.
I’m clearly detecting a theme here. Do not, under any circumstance, order apple juice at Applebee’s. Lesson learned. Next.

This one has no excuse. You put the drink into the kid’s sippy cup, it’s obviously not one of the ones the business uses. You were very obviously trying to do something to that poor kid. You cannot, in any way, mistake a margarita for apple juice.

In Detroit, after realizing what had happened, Dill-Reese said her son was taken to the hospital. The toddler was found to have a 0.1 blood alcohol level, well above the legal limit for an adult to drive.
Elitist reporter note: Editing fail. You don’t go to generalizations like that and then back to the story. It’s confusing, I had to read the story twice before I could follow the convoluted flow. You write about the situation, and then, to close, you talk about how this isn’t the first time this happened.

I hope Applebee's will, at the very least, be paying those hospital bills. 

His mother said the child is now fine but Dill-Reese, who is 18 and too young to drink legally in Michigan, doesn't understand how something like this could have happen.
This sentence structure is awkward, I had to read this one twice too, because the first time I thought they were talking about the kid being 18, not the mom, so I was like, “Wait, this just happened and the kid is 18 now? What, I don’t get it.”

She doesn’t understand how it happened? Really? I don’t think anyone does, hence the internal Applebee’s investigation which is in conjunction with local authorities. Does it really matter to you how it happened? It’s not like, “oh, well, it was just a blind bartender, it’s no big deal.” No, whatever reason behind it does not make it acceptable. Unless you liked your kid being drunk, in which case we need to worry about your parenting skills.

"Nobody at the table ordered alcoholic drinks; we can't, so he definitely shouldn't have received one," Dill-Reese said.
Even if you had ordered alcoholic drinks, he shouldn’t have received one. God, what an idiotic statement.

** EDIT 4/12/11 ***
Apparently, as a result of this accident (which, as you read above, was the THIRD time it happened), Applebee's is changing their policies on juice pouring.

Applebee's changes policies after child served alcohol

Oh no she didn’t

Let’s get this out of the way up front – it’s a well-known fact I hate children. Well, at least other people’s children. And I have little tolerance/patience/whatever you want to call it, for people who do not even attempt to control their children.

Even before I had Munchkin, I knew enough about kids (from all those years babysitting, I guess) that there is a very distinct difference between attempting to control your children and failing miserably (which we all do at some point), and not even trying at all.

If there’s one thing you learn very quickly in Disney World, is that some people stop trying to control their children as soon as they walk through the gates. Apparently Disney is nothing but a giant playground and policing of children is no longer necessary (after all, that’s why they pay those people to say “keep your arms, hands, feet, and legs inside the tram at all times and no flash photography” over and over again, right). There are other people, like us, who tried to control our child, but you have to admit, there are times the amazement and wonder that is the Happiest Place on Earth will get the best of any well-behaved child and turn them into a monkey. And that’s okay, we get points for trying, right?

Anyway, it’s hard not to judge others when their kids are being complete assholes. (Side note, parent fact – the way our child acts is a direct reflection on us and our parenting. If our child is a big fat fail, so are we. At least that’s how I see it. Yes, she has her own mind – and it’s stubborn as hell – but it’s my responsibility to teach her how to use it, and if I don’t, then I didn’t do my job.)

Now, when I complain about controlling kids, I’m not talking about the couple-minute temper tantrum. No one likes to listen to a screaming child, but it’s Disney – adults go into overload, there’s no way a two-year-old won’t. It’s a place designed for kids, you have to expect that (and if you didn’t, you’re an idiot). However, it’s hard not to get pissed when kids dart out in front of you without looking, they stop to gawk at something and you almost slam into them, or strollers just appear out of nowhere or run over your heels (all of these are crimes committed by adults as well).

Here’s the thing – as a parent, you get pissed when you get the nasty stare. Sometimes the nasty stare comes with words. It’s really these moments that piss you off more than others. I mean, a stranger can walk by me and think my kid’s a punk (cause, hey, sometimes she is) and think I suck, but it’s in passing and you’ll forget about me as soon as you see something else interesting. No, it’s the ones who actually go out of their way that get you, because if your mental marquee and bitch-slap reflex are going in high gear, you know theirs is too.


The stare-down
We were at Downtown Disney, just stuffed ourselves senseless at T-Rex Café, and headed back out in the pouring rain. Despite the crappy weather and missing out on Harry Potter at Universal because of said crappy weather, I was still in a pretty good mood. Not ten feet outside the entrance to T-Rex Café, a kid darts out in front of the stroller I’m pushing. My first reaction was simply, “Whoa,” which was the first noise that came out of my mouth, and it was simply done in an effort to let said kid know I was there because I didn’t want to run him over.

I turned around to make sure I didn’t clip him, and his momma was crouching down next to her stroller, and screams “KIDS!” – like that was going to corral them. But worst of all, she gave me this stare, like “How dare you say something to my kid?” Uh, I’m sorry, bitch, next time I’ll run him over and leave him with stroller tracks on his back, okay?

After the brief moment of eye contact, I turned back forward, seething. I turned back around, and we had the stare-down again. She hadn’t moved in that time, she was watching me, I guess waiting for me to U-turn and run her kid over? I’m really not sure. We made eye contact again, and it was mom vs. mom. Honestly, it took everything I had not to go over and bitch-slap her right then and there. Do NOT treat me like that when I was not judging your parenting, I was not complaining about your kid, I was simply looking out for his well-being. In fact, at this point in time, I had no issue with your child, but rather your bitchy self.

The parenting lesson
If you are friends on Facebook, you’ve seen the short version of this story.

We’re in the Atlanta airport for about a two-hour layover between flights on our way home. Jocelyn’s been pretty good, but she’s on overload – between five days at Disney and being in an airport, which is fascinating in and of itself to her – getting her to pay attention to much of anything is a neigh on impossible. Add to that the fun of being in an airport, so not only do you have to keep an eye and hand on the child at all times, but also the luggage. And dear God did we have our fair share of luggage.

Scott and I realized it was easiest to do it in stages. We found a seat, he sat with the luggage while I took the kid to go potty. We came back, and he left to go to the bathroom and get us food (dear God, I hope in that order, and I hope he washed his hands before getting food!). Once he came back, it would be about time to take her to the bathroom again, and he’d have to baby-sit the luggage. You see how this worked.

While he was off getting lunch, which took forever and a day, Munchkin was running around the terminal gate like a mad woman. Somehow or another, between our stuff, her running laps in front of the window and my placement, we managed to take up an entire row of like six seats. I told her it was time to calm down. Hahahaha! So, I informed her she had to pick a seat and stay there or she was getting a time out. I could not, nor would I, chase her all over the gate. It wasn’t fair to me, and it wasn’t fair to the other people who just wanted to read their Kindles (yeah, everyone I saw had a Kindle – no Nooks). I asked if she understood, she said yes. Hallelujah.

She picked a seat. She gave me that little look. I knew what was coming.

She scooted down to the next one. “I want this seat.”

The tired, exhausted mom in me said, “Fine. Whatever, just sit your ass down.”

The mom in me who knew better, the mom in me whose bluff has been called way more times than I care to admit, stepped up. “No, I told you to pick a seat, you moved, you’re in time out.”

Into my lap the child goes, and here comes the screaming and flailing of arms. And here come the stares from the people at the gate. The people with kids give me that empathetic look of, “been there, done that, I hate having to discipline in public.” The people without kids give me the look of “shut the kid up, would you?” (What these people don’t realize is that, give a kid like this about 30 seconds, and not only will they most likely be quiet, but much better behaved.)

In this particular instance, we had option number three. It was the bleach-blonde college chick, with the sunglasses way too big for her face (a la Paris Hilton), who Scott proclaimed to be hung over later, came up to me and actually said, “If you let her go she won’t make noises like that, she wants to run around.”

Really? That’s why my kid is pissed off? I had no freakin’ idea. I am so glad I had her there to tell me that. Shoot, Jocelyn might still be screaming her little head off it not for her.

There were so many things that ran through my head at that moment. (Bitch-slap reflex was high, but since Jocelyn has an issue with a girl at school, the last thing I needed to do was enforce the fact hitting is okay when dealing with stupidity.) Finally, I settled for the very PC, “I know that, but she can’t.”

Who the hell did this woman think she was? In the time it took her to spit out that idiotic sentence, Jocelyn stopped screaming. She was still wriggling, but at that point, that’s my problem and not hers.

Honestly, though, what the heck was her deal? Not only do I not appreciate anyone insinuating I don’t know how to control my child, but I really don’t appreciate you opening your mouth to say something that stupid. No shit the kid wants to run around. The kid wants to fly the plane too, are you going to let her? I guess this idiot would, because then, apparently, she wouldn’t “make noise.”

Furthermore, if I tell my kid she can’t do something, it is not anyone’s place to turn around and tell her she can. Especially a complete stranger.

I just got two words for you, sweetheart…

Archives: Why I don't cook at home very often

~~ Originally posted as a Facebook Note on October 6, 2009 ~~

She wanted to help, how cute is that?

Alright, so if making the world's scariest ladybug in cake wasn't bad enough of a disaster in my kitchen, enter dumb move number two - making homemade chicken nuggets with a toddler and an Oscar at your feet.

First, things are going okay. Jocelyn starts playing in the cabinet I just pulled a baking sheet out of, but that's par for the course. The silicone cake pans will get on the floor, but that's no big deal. She's happy and entertained.

I get my breading assembly line ready. A bowl of flour, a bowl of beaten eggs, and a bowl of Panko bread crumbs. I cut the chicken, making sure I only touch the chicken with one hand so that I have a salmonella-free hand available in case the phone rings or if Jocelyn decides she needs to get into something she shouldn't.

While I get ready to bread chicken, I hear her clanging in the drawer at my feet with all the frying pans and lids in it. I glance down and she's taken them all out of the drawer, and replaced them with herself. It's too cute, I can't say anything. I want to get my camera, but my left hand is an ooey-gooey-salmonella-laced mess, so that's not happening. So, I get back to breading. But alas, I manage to bump the bowl with eggs and they go all over the place, just narrowly missing Jocelyn's head. I start cleaning it up, but don't get it done in time, and here comes Oscar to help. Great, one more thing I need to watch his behavior to make sure it doesn't upset his stomach. Just once it would be nice that the only thing he eats is dog food. But no, that would be too damn easy.

Frying pan obstacle cours

I go to cross the kitchen to get more paper towels and I trip over the wonderful frying pan obstacle course that Jocelyn has laid out for me. And while I'm cleaning this up, she's gotten into the baking cabinet and pulled out the pecan crusher, quite a heavy (and deadly!) object. She takes the handle and heads over to the corner to beat on aluminum cans with it. Yeah, well, she's out of my hair.

I finish cleaning up the eggs mess, beat some more eggs and get started again. I finally get all of the chicken breaded and on the pan (which took some work, I ran out of room). I go to put them in the oven with some au gratin potatoes (worse yet, the generic kind ... what was I thinking!?!) and there's Jocelyn with an oven mitt on her hand - guess she wanted to help.

Munchkin struggling with the
Cocoa Puffs

I shoo her out of the kitchen so I can finish getting dinner in the oven and get cleaned up. I hear crinkling on the other side of the bar. I peek around the corner and I see an empty Cocoa Puffs box. And off she runs into the living room, where I find her struggling to get Cocoa Puffs out of the bag. It's too freaking cute, so I sit down with her and watch CMT and munch on Cocoa Puffs. Until I have to get up and check on dinner, and that's when I give her a small container full of Cocoa Puffs and I put the bag back in the box and put it away.

Back to dinner.

The good news here is that the homemade chicken nuggets taste pretty darn good, though it looks like Jocelyn isn't really impressed. Oh well, it was an excuse to use my new Blackberry Wine Barbeque Sauce, and that is happiness.

Archives: The best day of my life

** This was originally written and posted on my FB page as a note in July 2009 **

Ask just about any married woman without kids what the best day of her life was and she will most likely say it was her wedding day.

And ask any mother what the best day of her life was and she will most likely tell you it was the day her kids were born.

I’m here to tell you, the day my daughter was born was not the best day of my life. In fact, it was downright awful. I had to be at the hospital at 5:30 in the morning, after having hardly slept the night before (I was being induced, so I was a nervous wreck). They took me in, had a hard time finding a vein for the IV, and hooked me up to the contraction monitoring machine. But alas, the stuff wasn’t working right. So while my husband stepped out (for what I don’t recall), they moved me to another room which subsequently freaked him out when he came back. As the day wore on, it just got better. The pitocin wasn’t working. The max dosage is 20, they maxxed me out at 30, and it still took its sweet time to work. When the contractions finally hit, they were all in my back – yes, my stubborn daughter may have been head down, but was facing up (to see the world!) and I was in back labor, so my hard-pressed days of “I want a natural labor” were put to rest an hour after the contractions started when I begged for an epidural.

All the while, I’ve been watching the Food Network all day long and I’m not allowed to eat a freakin’ thing. The sweet nurse did hunt me down a popsicle at lunch, but it was grape and I hate grape. I choked it down anyway, because she jumped through hoops to get it for me.

After pumping me full of fluids for an hour, but what felt like a freakin’ eternity, I got my epidural and fell in love with my anesthesiologist. Of course, you’d fall in love with a man who instantly takes away the pain too. But he warned me it went in sort of funny and a couple hours later I felt it starting to wear off. He gave me a “refresh” and life was good. Until the epidural fell out. So, here he comes again to give me another huge needle in my spine. Whereupon right afterwards my blood pressure drops like crazy, I get nauseous, and puke my guts out (well, no, just my grape popsicle) in front of my husband, my mother, and my in-laws. You know they loved that show.

The sweet nurse got off at 7. All day long I had four visitors in my room (the max is two) and she told us she didn’t really care as long as they didn’t get in her way. But after sweet nurse left, in trudged a troll of a nurse whose first words were “there are too many people in this room, two of you have to leave.” Little did she know two of them were saying goodbye, had she taken the time before she opened her big fat mouth, she would have known that.

This woman was not very nice, at all. And she screwed up my delivery. By the time she called my doctor in, my daughter was too far gone for him to turn her face-down, so the back labor continued. (Exacerbated by the fact my wonderful anesthesiologist turned off my epidural almost two hours before.) It got to the point my doctor told her to move and he handled everything – you know you’ve got a bad nurse when the doctor literally tells her to move.

After my daughter was born, evil nurse asked if I was in any pain and I told her I had back cramps and she goes, “That’s not normal.” HELLO! I was in back labor all day long woman! My doctor, God love him, patted my shoulder and told me he’d take care of it. So, a few minutes later I’m given a percoset , which I subsequently throw back up. But evil nurse won’t let me have another one, despite the fact she saw the pill come back up. Sigh.

The sweet baby nurse comes and asks me to nurse my baby for the first time. I’m in and out of sleep at this point and ask her if it can wait until tomorrow. When I mention it to evil nurse later she tells me that it’s better to do it earlier. Great, two hours as a mother and I’m already being told I’m a screw up. Thanks evil nurse.

Then, at 1 in the morning I get to move to my private room, and best of all, I get a new nurse! But not before evil nurse walks me to my room, forgetting my stuff (which my husband told her where everything was before he left – yes, I told him to go home, he needed sleep as much as I did) and holding out on me and not bringing me my Coke that my mom went and got for me right after the baby was born. (As it was the only thing that helped with the nausea.)

So, as it turns out, the only good thing about that day was really that, at 9:16 p.m., I was no longer pregnant. I was ecstatic because now I could go home and drink that bottle of wine that had been sitting at home waiting for me, taunting me, for almost five months, no more heartburn and more importantly, my ankles would go back to normal. (The joke was on me, because it took about two weeks before my ankles stopped swelling.)

---
When was the best day of my life? When I finally felt that maternal bond to my daughter. Now, don’t get me wrong, I didn’t neglect her, nor did I regret having her, I just didn’t feel that “I’m-going-to-have-to-kick-your-ass-if-you-so-much-as-think-about-laying-a-hand-on-this-child” feeling for a couple of days.

Now my husband said I had it all along, I just didn’t understand it.

Whoever’s theory is correct, the fact remains that the day I realized that mother-daughter bond was the best day of my life. She needed me and I was bound and determined to make sure that everything she needed (and some things that weren’t!) would be provided so she could have the best life possible. And I didn’t think I could love her any more than I did that day.

Boy was I wrong.

As each day progresses, and she learns new things, there are habits I see that just make my heart melt. From the apparently innate love of barbeque sauce and doughnuts (two of my vices, though not together as that phrase might inadvertently suggest), to watching her neglect the food in front of her just to grab the toy car and go “vroom, vroom,” I see myself in her each and every day. (Yes, I’m a car girl, which is why it thrills me to see her taking to them.) It just blows my mind how there are some things that she does that she didn’t learn, she just did. She gives me my husband’s expressions, and has since the beginning – that’s not learned. She sleeps on her stomach with her head on her right arm like me, and that’s not learned either.

It just amazes me how much of myself I see in this little girl. And how much I want to protect her from the world, I want to protect her from my mistakes, I want to protect her from any pain and hurt that may come her way. And it was the day I realized that was the best day of my life – not the day she was born. That day pretty much sucked.

Things I learned since having a toddler

My munchkin, life's greatest teacher

I posted this a while back as a Facebook note, but I thought I'd resurrect it and add to it... sending a lot of love out to my buds who just became moms in the last week.

Almost three years ago, I would have told you I'm so not the mom type. I don't know how to be nurturing and caring to anything with fewer than four legs. But, alas, since Jocelyn joined us, I have turned into that walking cliche - all the way down to using baby wipes to clean just about everything (mainly because they are there), and always having some sort of snack hidden in my purse. Ha! Me, whodathunk it?

Here are a few other things I've learned....

1. Pictures are important. Sometimes a little too important. :) But we can't have a major holiday or event without the camera involved.

2. There are some things that I used to think grossed me out, but, well, not anymore. C'est la vie.

3. Random noises that escape my daughter's lips actually make words to us, but no one else.

4. A room (or the backseat of the car) is not completely decorated until there is at least one toy in all locations.

5. As your child gets older, the need to carry more stuff increases tenfold. Less diapers, yes, but way more to keep that razor-thin attention span occupied.

6. My ensemble is never complete without a snot mark, oatmeal-covered handprint, or some other discoloration that won't go away unless it goes through the wash.

7. Joy comes in fifteen-minute cartoons. Add a cookie to the mix and you have pure elation.

8. Christmas used to be all about "what kind of cool stuff will I get?" and now it's about "what kind of cool stuff can I get her?"

9. Phrases like: "Get off the table," "Why are you driving your cars down the cat's back?" and "No, no, don't pick up the cat," or (my favorite) "Honey, please don't color the cat," become a regular part of your vernacular.

10. Thoughts like "I wonder if she gets tired of me asking her what the cow says as quickly as I tire of asking it" run through your head.

11. Bright green poop freaks you out to the point you run to the internet to see what sort of disease your child might have ... when you finally remember that she had green-colored Jello two nights before.

12. Sometimes a balanced meal is a piece of string cheese.

13. You watch way more PG- and G-rated movies than anything else. Extra points if you have a five-disc DVD changer that has a kiddie movie in each slot. (Yes, I do!)

14. You have watched every episode of any cartoon on Playhouse Disney.

14b. You get extra points if you know Playhouse Disney is now called DisneyJunior.

15. You DVR more cartoons for your kid than you do shows for yourself.


16. Chalk is good. Crayons are better. Markers are THE BEST. And nothing will get them off after an afternoon of wall-decorating.

17. A child will not tire of watching the same movie or listening to the same song until you turn homicidal.

Feel free to add more...

We have an infestation of monsters ... "way better than cock-a-roaches"

Apparently, we have an infestation of monsters in our house. It must have happened when I canceled the regular visit by the Orkin man. I guess $74 every two months isn’t all that expensive when you consider a monster infestation and the ramifications.

I don’t see the monsters, but I know they are there. Munchkin tells me so. She screams and screams until someone comes up there, and she says they are in the window. Covering up the window didn’t help. However, as of Sunday, we have become EXPERT monster hunters. There are no more monsters in our house. (Unfortunately, Munchkin is still afraid they will get in, so she hasn’t slept by herself since clearing out this nasty infestation.)

But I do feel obligated to share my story – because if a monster infestation can happen to us, it can happen to anyone.

Here’s what you need to know – monsters apparently get in through the windows, they love (and I mean LOVE) to live in toddler beds, and they are scared of things that are purple and butterflies. (Unless they are “fabulous” monsters, but that’s a whole separate kind of infestation.)

Steps one and two – Replace the toddler bed and purchase monster-repelling bedding for new bed

The sad part about this step is that it is a) the most expensive and b) the most time-consuming because you have to wait for it to be delivered. The key, your child must jump on many beds before choosing the perfect, monster-free bed. It is essential. Ask your child many times if this is the right bed. You’d hate to rid your house of monsters – spend a lot of money on a new bed – just to have the monsters come right on in with the new mattress.

You must, and I repeat must, purchase monster-repelling bedding. Seeing as how they like to live in beds, you must make the new one as awful as possible for them. We went with super-strength bedding as well – purple and with butterflies.

Step three – Pick out monster-repelling curtains

Because monsters can effectively slip in through the window, we must make sure the window is fully covered by the appropriate monster-repelling curtains. Your child must make sure they meet the most recent monster-repelling guidelines. See our monster-repelling curtains – super-strength as they are purple AND feature butterflies. You can never be too careful when dealing with those silly monsters.

Step four – Declare all windows and doors monster-free zones

Seeing as how monsters get in through the windows – and because they are afraid of butterflies, it only make sense that you must eliminate any possible monster re-entry by placing a butterfly sticker on each and every window in the house. This certifies that window is secure and no monsters can get in.

Although those sneaky monsters primarily use the windows, sometimes they like to sneak in behind you while you’re going in and out the doors. Therefore, you should also place a sticker on all doors to make sure they are secure and monsters won’t be trying to sneak in. (We used stars on the doors. Because you can’t just use butterflies, that’s over-accessorizing which is a no-no.)

Step five – Spray all windows and doors with monster repellent

Monster repellent is a necessity. Luckily for me, the guy at Wal-Mart knew just where to go to get a spray bottle that was made just for monster repellent. So, we got one, and we filled it with homemade monster repellent. (Water and purple food coloring seems to work the best. Don’t forget the food coloring – otherwise they will just slip right on by. You just can’t have that.) As you certify all windows and doors to be monster-free zones, you must spray the repellent to seal said windows and doors. You can never be too careful.

In our house, we also sprayed the top of the stairs, so if any monsters managed to get in on the ground floor, they couldn’t get to Munchkin’s room. No worries, the dogs will take care of any and all monsters trapped on the ground floor. Especially Tona. No one messes with the Munchkin but her!

Step six – Put on purple pajamas

Seeing as how monsters don’t like purple, you can never be too careful, so you must make sure the person worried about monsters is wearing purple pajamas. Those monsters don’t stand a chance!!!

Step seven – Add the new monster-repelling night light

Monsters hate hippies (just like Eric Cartman). Hey, who knew? So … if you have a purple and pink lava lamp, there’s no way those evil monsters will get anywhere close to your little one. It’s just a fact.

Step eight – Add a monster saber

If these extra protective measures (and we took every one there was, but you can never be too safe) don’t work – make sure there is a monster saber handy. The particular one we have lights up both blue and red, just in case those monsters are from the Dark Side or just bring the Force. Nothing kills a monster faster than a hit from a monster saber. Period. End of story.

Now you know, and knowing is half the battle.

Oh what ‘Tangled’ webs we weave

Apparently I’m overly optimistic, but we decided to make up for the weekend of suckiness and being trapped inside, we were going to take the kiddo to see Tangled. (Alright, that’s a lie – we were gonna take her Friday but it kept bumping it.)

It was the first time I returned to the theaters in Georgetown since it reopened under new ownership and old management. But it was so nice to see my old movie peeps again, the people I spent every weekend with for almost four years. And I loved that we got to take Munchkin to her first trip to the movies at the local theater full of people we knew as opposed to the craziness that is the big-anonymity of the theaters in Lexington.

We get our tickets and head into the theater.  The reaction Scott wanted to see was there – she walked straight into the front row and stood there staring at the screen (which was playing previews already). I was just happy that I could get “my” spot back. (Come on, you go to the same theater weekly for four years, you develop that “prime” spot, and get severely pissed whenever someone beats you to them.)

We get settled in our spot, her in a chair, covered in her Tangled blanket, with a Twizzler in her hand. We didn’t even make it through the previews when she said, “Don’t want to watch the movie.” Great. The fight begins.

She wants to sit in my lap. No problem, we can handle that. She gets in my lap, and we hand her another Twizzler. She’s calm for a little while. Even though she starts with the “Don’t want to watch the movie,” crap again. We hand her another Twizzler, she’s still for the length of the Twizzler. (You see a pattern developing yet?)

She informs me she wants to sit somewhere else. I agree. She and I move. Then she starts running up and down the row of seats. Scott goes after her, and eventually brings her back.

By this point, I’ve figured out the plot of the movie, and enter Flynn Rider, the hotness that is the male lead. Ahhh. Life is good. (Who cares if he’s animated, he’s still hot, okay? And don't you dare try to tell me you never thought an animated character was hot because I know you're lying. Aladdin and/or Jasmine, anyone?)

She decides she wants to sit elsewhere, so we move again. We sit. She gets another Twizzler (at this point the package is almost gone).

“Don’t want to watch the movie.”

“Here, have another Twizzler.”

“I gotta pee.” Of course she does.

She and I head out, Twizzler still in hand (of course), and I take her to the bathroom. When we’re done, I start to head back to the theater and she runs straight over to the video games. Eh, whatever, I’ll let her play for awhile.

I know the manager of the theater, so she and I talk for a little bit. She offers to turn the video games off, but I was like, “It’s no big deal, if it keeps her entertained for awhile, so be it.” And then the sugar from the Twizzlers kick in and she is running laps around the lobby, cracking everyone up.  (If there were any people in the lobby besides me and the employees of the theater, I wouldn’t have let her run wild, but I figured it was okay and she needed to run off the sugar.)

Scott finally realizes that we’re not coming back, so he comes out of the theater, and lets me talk to Dana while he watches her at the video games. She wants to play, and I have a few singles, so I hand her two dollars and let the two of them get quarters and try to get the stuffed dachshund out of the claw machine for me. No luck. But whatever.

She decides she wants to do it again, so I offer her one more dollar (my last single). After that, I’m standing by the counter talking to Dana,  when the kid heads over to my purse. Scott tells me, and I’m like, “Let’s see what she does.”

She walks up to my purse.
Pulls out my wallet.
Opens the wallet.
Immediately locates the two bills (a ten and a five) and pulls them out with a huge smile.

Dammit my child is way too smart.

I make her bring me the wallet and try to take the bills away from her, and I get the ten, but manage to rip the five trying to pry it from her grasp. Heaven help me if she ever gets her hands on a credit card.

So, anyway, we’re getting ready to leave. She goes, “I want popcorn.” It was so cute, so I asked Dana if I could have a small popcorn to go. She said yes, and she walks over to a box with the popcorn bags, and Munchkin goes, “The popcorn’s over there lady,” and she pointed at the popper. I was laughing when I told her she had to say sorry for being rude. (She did actually say, “Sorry, Dana,” like I asked her. And “Thank you, Dana,” when we left.)

So yeah, I don’t think you can call our trip to the movies a success, but it was definitely interesting.

Unfortunately, we made it through enough of the movie for Scott and I to be engrossed in the movie, and be sorely disappointed we didn’t get to see the rest. I even told her later, “You best be lucky I love you. I don’t miss the end of movies for just anyone, you know?”

Guess I’ll give you a review of Tangled when we get the DVD.

Trip to the movies = fail

By Request: Don't scream in my ear you little f'in brat!!!

The story I'm railing on is short, so I have included the text below, but here's the link, since I always do that (mainly to prove I'm not making this stuff up - I'm hardly a plagiarizer, I just use others' mistakes as my motivation).

Screaming 3-year-olds on a plane! No one likes a fussy kid when you’re stuck on a flight but should you be able to sue over it? A 67-year-old American woman who was on a Qantas flight as part of her Australian vacation sued the airline over a run-in with a vocal three-year-old, who allegedly yelled in her ear, causing bleeding and deafness. Her lawyer argues Qantas is at fault because the plane's crew failed "to take all the necessary precautions to prevent the accident.” Qantas claims the child was well-behaved in the terminal and up until the incident, on the flight. We’re not sure what kind of precautions they could have taken, other than not allow any preschoolers – an age known for rollercoaster mood swings – to board at all.

More interesting details: it’s come out that the woman was wearing hearing aids, suggesting she already had hearing issues. And listen to the e-mail she sent the day after the incident:

  

"I guess we are simply fortunate that my eardrum was exploding and I was swallowing blood. Had it not been for that, I would have dragged that kid out of his mother's arms and stomped him to death.”

Whoa. That 3-year-old will grow out of his tantrums but sounds like her nasty streak is permanent. Even so, Qantas has settled the case for an undisclosed amount.

Holy hearing aids, Batman!

Having been a mom for 2.5 years, I've learned there are two types of people in this world.

1. Those who feel the world revolves around them - and heaven forbid anything, least of all someone's child - somehow enter the gravitational pull to hinder the world's revolution around them. When a kid acts up somewhere remotely within their eyesight or earshot, expect a nasty look, a rude comment, them making eye contact with you before inching (or running for dear life) from you and your child - or, if you're lucky, all of the above.
2. Those who see you struggle with your child, shoot you a sympathetic look and a smile. In half of those cases, they will actually stop and engage your child, or tell you not to feel bad because their kid did it too and they were actually grateful to learn they weren't the only one who dealt with said problem that led to the public tantrum.

I have a hard enough time taking my child to restaurants - we go armed with whatever toy she wanted when we left the house, and a pencil pouch full of entertaining goodies (coloring books, crackers, stickers, crayons stolen from various restaurants in and around Georgetown) that lives in the car for occasions just like these. Sometimes she's a perfect angel, and we get so many compliments. Other times I want to hide my face because I don't really want anyone to know the screaming child is, in any way, related to me.

It is, however, a risk we take to go out to dinner. We're aware of it. We try our best to control it, but we can't always. There are times her will, and her attitude, are bigger than us both. Anyone who has dealt with a toddler before knows what I'm talking about.

We will probably fly with her for the first time in March, and I'm not exactly looking forward to it. Why? Simply because I can stick with my usual tricks, but the be-all-end-all equalizer of "do you want to go home?" is not an option. There isn't even an "outside" to give her an attitude adjustment. The worst I can do is give her a blue swirly in the minuscule airplane bathroom - and even then, she's not old enough to care she's blue (in fact, she'll probably think it's cool) and then I'd just be embarrassed to be walking to my connecting flight with a Smurf in tow.

(Seriously, any of you who picked up the phone to call CPS - it was a joke. I would totally make the pilot turn the plane around before I gave her a swirly. I might go to jail for hijacking a plane, but, you know, it's the sacrifices we make for our kids.)

Now, you realize I have not addressed the issue at hand yet ... the crazy 67-year-old woman who SUCCESSFULLY got money out of Quantas airlines because she's a bitch.

I really feel for the mom in this situation. How embarrassing for her to know it was her kid who set off this shitstorm of stupidity that went through the legal system. Just goes to show how much people have been conditioned to sue over any little thing. First of all, suing is ridiculous anyway, but the airline as the defendant? That's as ridiculous as suing a four-year-old. (No, couldn't sue the kid, because the kid wasn't four-and-a-day, but I'm absolutely sure this crabby old bitch so would have if the kid was old enough. In addition to the airline, I'm sure.)

So, how much merit do I think this woman's case has?

Can you say, none?

I mean, first of all, if anyone is liable, it's the mom and not the airlines. And I wouldn't really think the mom could be held liable - I mean, what was she expected to do, shoot her kid with a tranquilizer dart to avoid potential run-ins with crabby women? Obviously the kid doesn't meet the four-and-a-day test, so there's really no one available to sue. Oh damn.

Now, how about the "injuries" she sustained? Her eardrum apparently ruptured and her ear bled. Well, yeah, I can see how her ear bled if her eardrum ruptured. Let's walk through this, shall we?

• SHE HAS HEARING AIDS! Obviously she had prior hearing damage. Was it a birth defect? Or the result of a previous accident? If it was the result of an accident, how do we know this particular incident wasn't related to that? We don't.
• SHE WAS ON A PLANE! You know, a plane, where there are changes in air pressure and your ears pop and stuff. Perhaps your eardrum ruptured as a result of the elements to which it is exposed while you were flying, rather than the bratty child you encountered.
• SHE WAS ON A PLANE! Yeah, again ... umm, there are other loud noises you encounter on a plane that could have contributed (if you believe a loud noise caused the eardrum to rupture, which I really don't).
• SHE IS OLD! This kind of stuff randomly happens to old people. No, that's not an ageist comment - it's a fact. Deal with it.
• SHE'S AN IDIOT! If the three-year-old in question got close enough to her head to scream in such a way that caused her eardrum to rupture, I'm sure he did other irritating things before this. A three-year-old does not (traditionally) just scream at a stranger unless prior attempts to get said person's attention were futile. Therefore, if she didn't speak up to tell the mom the kid was annoying her and she would like him to stop, then she deserved what she got.

There is no way the airline should be responsible, unless it was a flight that was deemed a kid-free zone and this child violated that. (But see, yeah, that won't happen... people with kids will sue for being discriminated against - it's a vicious cycle.) So, how they were even remotely willing to settle for this case is beyond me. Either Quantas has crappy lawyers or there's something they are trying to hide. Kind of makes you wonder, doesn't it?

Furthermore, read the text of the e-mail she sent to one of her fellow old biddies again: 

"I guess we are simply fortunate that my eardrum was exploding and I was swallowing blood. Had it not been for that, I would have dragged that kid out of his mother's arms and stomped him to death.”

This woman deserves absolutely nothing because her case has no merit, but I think this just proves what evil truly lies in her heart. Reference my point earlier about the two types of people in this world - she definitely falls into the first category. Probably didn't have any of her own, or she would have sued them for some stupid reason, I'm sure. I really think this woman needs a serious attitude adjustment - not a check with multiple zeroes from an airline company. But what do I know? I'm just someone with an opinion and a blog.

This whole thing really just makes me think of Jefferey - the four-year-old Bill Cosby encountered on a plane. Irritating as all get out, but this is how they dealt with irritating children on planes in the early 80s. Hmmm ... maybe we need to go back 30 years.