Tag Archives: Family

Hitched

Las Vegas, Nevada

Fremont Street, the site of the ZIP!

Well, we did it, internet! We went to Las Vegas and got hitched! And yes, Elvis walked me down the aisle and sang to Baby L. And it was so effing awesome. Obviously, when you’re in Vegas, there is an Elvis on every corner and the odds of getting a good one are, well, kind of slim in my opinion. And I don’t think we got the best Elvis there was (I am pretty sure he used shoe polish to paint on some of his hair), but I didn’t even care about that. Because the wedding was exactly what I had hoped: Lighthearted. Fun. A good story to tell the grandkids .A good amount of cheesiness. It was definitely all of those things. We laughed our faces off and we left the chapel a legit married couple. And, really, what more could I ask for?

Baby L was an angel on the flights to and from Vegas. There were only a couple of points where she started to spaz a little. And who could be mad at that? I kind of felt like screaming my face off a couple of times, myself. Because, seriously, sitting in a tiny seat for 5 hours and not being able to move AT ALL makes my body hurt. (Thanks, Baby L, for destroying my hips and making it impossible for me to sit/stand/walk/lie down for any extended period of time.) And having strangers breathing on me, well, that isn’t really one of my favorite things either…

I wasn’t able to do a lot of things that I wanted to while I was in Vegas. Mainly because, the day that we got there, my throat started hurting like I had attempted to swallow sandpaper (gotta love germy, enclosed spaces!). I spent a lot of time with my mom, sister, and Baby L in the condo while MB and his brother and sister explored the strip. Which didn’t really bother me, because I had already seen it and they hadn’t. But I did a little gambling, I ate a little deliciousness, I walked a whole lot in and around beautiful, ornate hotels, and I visited the top of the Eiffel Tower. Oh, and I fucking ziplined! (I can’t believe I almost forgot that!) I felt pretty accomplished, being that I am not usually one to try flying through the air, attached to a wire, but I figured that I had to do it. After all, MB’s brother and sister bungee jumped off of the Stratosphere. And comparatively, I still suck.

Here are a few highlights:

1. MB’s brother started out as his normal self: A douche canoe. But eventually joined the land of the un-douchey and we ended up not killing each other, and, on the contrary are right back on track. (I’ve known him about ten years longer than I have known MB and we were friends quite a long time before the douchiness started. But I suppose that depends on who you ask. I have some friends who might say I was just blind to it all those years. Until we knew we were going to be family.) This was really a relief. Because the last thing that I wanted was for MB to feel like he couldn’t spend time with his wife and brother at the same time. That is just stupid. I think he was less inclined to be douchey because his ridiculous girlfriend wasn’t there. She tends to bring out the worst in everyone.

2. Baby L saw the Las Vegas strip! She was totally in awe of everything and she was just amazing (until she got tired and we were sitting in a burger place inside the Paris hotel and she started screaming her face off. But, Daddy has the magic touch.) Granted, she won’t remember this. But she will have a picture with Elvis to commemorate. MB and I might be really embarrassing parents.

3. Speaking of Daddy’s magic touch: MB somehow contracted MRSA while we were gone and cannot touch ANYTHING or ANYONE until otherwise advised by a doctor. I am not going to get into how skeeved out the idea of MRSA is to me. And I’m not going to admit to how many loads of laundry I have done in the past 48 hours. But I will tell you, having baby duty 24 hours a day without even so much as someone to HOLD her, on top of being sick myself? NO FUN. I’m hoping that MB’s nastiness clears up soon so that I can get a little help. But also, you know, so he doesn’t die.

4. My mom is obsessed with El Pollo Loco and I am pretty sure that the only reason she goes to Las Vegas is to eat chicken. Fast food chicken.

5. MB bought a guitar to fill with alcohol and carry around the strip. I obviously was not present when this was purchased. But mission accomplished. HAMMERED MB.

6. My sister, MB and I stumbled into a bar at three in the morning one night, where we may have been the only tourists. It was totally creepy. And a weird bunch of people bought us shots. We were fairly certain that, if we didn’t leave immediately, we would wake up in a meth den or something. We escaped. Then we ate Fat Burgers.

7. My hair stayed curly for several days in Las Vegas. I was fairly certain it would be as it is in Florida, and curl beautifully, stay for 13.5 minutes and then, before you can blink, return to stick straight. I told the hairdresser that if my hair stayed, I would move to Las Vegas. And two days later, I was almost in tears because I had to finally wash it.

8. My good friend Ricky was able to make the trip from San Diego and hang out with us during and after the wedding. I had a GREAT time with him and was SO glad that at least ONE of my friends could make the trip!

9. MB has the travel bug now. He’s already trying to plan our next getaway. This time, it will most likely NOT involve that amount of alcohol. Any siblings. Or a fillable guitar.

10. Thanks to all of YOU for the congratulations! I’m so happy to be home and so happy to have officially married my best friend!

That was the longest/shortest vacation of my life. And the only souvenirs I returned with are an empty Eiffel Tower which used to hold frozen drink deliciousness and a defective husband! Okay, maybe not defective. But definitely diseased. Gross.

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Thou Shalt Not Cut (Your Mother)

Very, very soon, MB, Baby L and I will be on vacation in Las Vegas, staying at a condo with my mom. My mom has graciously assumed the role of designated baby watcher while we are there, considering that MB and I will not only be on our first vacation, but also kind of on our honeymoon. I am super grateful that she has offered to do this. And that she will be there, because I for one, could definitely NOT leave and go on vacation WITHOUT Baby L because I would be stricken with guilt the whole time. And I would miss her little cheeks so much, I’m sure I would be on the first flight back home. That said, there are some things that worry me about my mom watching the baby. Not because she isn’t totally capable and competent, but because this baby is MINE. And I, like my mother, am sort of a crazy control freak. (To my credit, however, I don’t think I am quite as bad as my mom. If I were, I wouldn’t be able to hack my current living situation with the grace that I have thus far.) But two crazy control freaks, in one place, with one defenseless little lady…well, this could be bad. But I know my baby better than my mom does. Whether or not she raised two kids already. That was a bazillion years ago, mom, and my baby is an INDIVIDUAL.

20121011-102107.jpgFor instance, when we started rice cereal a few weeks ago, you first told me that I should mix it in with her bottle at night and it would help her sleep. A couple of things:

1. The doctor advised against giving her cereal in the bottle and suggested I spoon feed because there is less chance that she will aspirate cereal. Aspirating cereal does not sound like fun. Especially for a baby, who cannot say, “HELP! I have aspirated cereal!”

2. Cereal does not help this baby sleep. Infact, quite the opposite. MY baby likes to stay awake for 4 hours AFTER nighttime cereal. Did you hear that, Mom?! FOUR HOURS. For the love of all that is holy, PLEASE DO NOT GIVE MY BABY CEREAL AT NIGHT. I will murder you.

I am sure that when I advise my mom of this, she will not take my word for it but decide that she needs to see for herself. Then Baby L will be up at 3am, squirming around and NOT SLEEPING. And then my mom will bitch all of the next day because she didn’t get any sleep.

And then I will cut her.

The end.

Growing Together

Today, for the first time, I woke up at 5:30 am and NOT because the baby was hungry and starting to cry her little face off. Nope, I woke up, out of the blue and I could NOT go back to sleep. And, of course, I wrote a blog post in my head. And it was a really good one. And then I got up and fixed breakfast, ate, had some coffee, got the baby fed…and then the blog post was gone. GONE. (This is not unusual. I do my best, most articulate writing when I am half asleep and unable to reach my computer. Usually right before I fall asleep or when I wake up at an ungodly hour of the morning and am desperately fighting being awake. Go figure.)

But I was thinking about how much my feelings about being a mom have changed. And how they have changed me. And I was remembering the time when I was pregnant and how I thought I might never feel a real bond with my kid and how sad that would be,

While I was pregnant, the whole thing seemed surreal. Like I would never get to that point where pregnant women get all full of joy or whatever. And I guess I eventually got there. Somewhat. I mean, I HATED being pregnant. I hated every little thing about how I felt. But I do remember every once in awhile, feeling Baby L kick and being totally excited, if only for that moment. But then terrified again.

The terror didn’t really go away for a little while after she was born either. I mean, you hear all these women talk about how they instantly felt this bond with this little meatloaf that they just pushed out of their bodies, and you expect to feel that right away. But the reality is, some women need a minute. Or a couple. I was one of those women. And I think there are more of us than will admit it, because I know I felt a bit of shame in this department.

I instantly loved Baby L. Duh. I mean, I carried her around for so long that she was PART of me. But I didn’t feel this instant bond. And I felt awful about it. I felt like I was a bad mother right away. I felt scared to leave her and instantly protective, which I suppose is that motherly instinct thing that I was hearing so much about. But I didn’t feel…IN LOVE at first. I felt bizarre. Like on those old TV shows where they teach kids about having kids by giving them an EGG to care for, for like a week (pretty sure this happened on “Saved by the Bell“.). And they can’t break it or lose it or whatever. (I never understood how an EGG compares to a BABY. I could DEFINITELY take care of an EGG for a week, people. I have twelve of them, perfectly safe, in the fridge right NOW.) But even though I loved this little egg, I wasn’t sure where the hell I was supposed to go from there.

But I was reading, shortly after leaving the hospital, a book called “Secrets from the Baby Whisperer” and the author made the point that your baby is a person. And it might take a little while to get to know him/her. Just like anyone else. Because, lets face it people, you don’t instantly LOVE people when you meet them. (I mean, maybe you HAVE, but how rare is that?!) Then I didn’t feel so bad about having to really work at this whole bonding thing. I had to get to KNOW Baby L. And she had to get to know me.

And that’s okay.

And now, nearly five months have passed, And Baby L is my whole life. She is beautiful and smart and hilarious. And she sings to her toys. And her little smiles melt my heart. And we’re totally BFFs.

* The title of this post was going to be “Bondage” but I was really worried about the kind madness that might attract. I don’t have much to say about that. This is a mommy blog, you guys.

 

Airplane Panic

Diaper Change in the Sky

Diaper Change in the Sky (Photo credit: andycarvin)

In less than a week, MB, Baby L and I will be taking our first vacation as a family. Am I super excited? Hell yes. Am I freaking out a little? Hell YES.

This might come as a shock to you, given how much I loved kids before I had one, but I have never traveled with an infant before. Before I had Baby L, I’d never even driven with one in my car. And the anxiety I had about that alone was astonishing. Now I get to bring my tiny person to the airport and through security and on an airplane. And OH MY GOD, the anxiety. As competent as I feel now as a mom, I just know that I will forget something important. Like, formula. I will be so concerned about remembering my toothbrush that I will forget that this little lady has to eat.

Not to mention the three hour time difference. Baby L is going to be asleep by 7 pm and wide awake and ready to play at 4 in the morning. Because it seems that, even though all of the adults will be running around like crazy people, it would be right to let her keep Florida time so that when we get home, she isn’t all messed up with the sleep thing. Because we all know how important sleep is to mommies.

I feel sort of insane with all the lists I have floating around the house and in my head. Lists of things to do before we leave. Lists of things to pack for Baby L. Lists of regular, every day things that I am most likely to forget. Lists of reasons to be nice to MB’s brother while we’re there, even though I want to punch him in his nether-region. Lists of restaurants in Las Vegas that don’t allow smoking. LIST after LIST after LIST, internet.

I feel like my mom.

For those of you who have traveled with your little ones, any words of wisdom?

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Like a Boss

Who's the Boss?

Who’s the Boss? (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Being a stay-at-home mom is really never anything I wanted to be. Mainly because the idea of having kids sort of scared/repulsed/annoyed the bejesus out of me in and of itself. And then, you know, there’s the whole cleaning up after everyone, feeding someone all the time, changing diapers…you know…that stuff… But you know, being a SAHM is sort of like having a job . And I love it. Like, more than any job I’ve ever had (it is up there with the Activities Director position I had at that nursing home where I got to play BINGO with Alzheimer’s patients for most of the day, but really, that wasn’t much different than having kids. And it was a BLAST.) But sometimes, internet, I just wish I had a JOB. It isn’t like I don’t currently have a boss. I have one. It’s just that she’s two feet tall. And she drools. You know, more than most bosses.

There are really a lot of things I miss about working. And some days, having no contact with anyone who can have a conversation can be a little overwhelming. And frustrating. But I mean, when you think about it, work has it’s share of ridiculousness that I don’t miss too.

At work, my boss could feed herself. I have to admit, this actually does shock me, considering what a fucking idiot she was. But she didn’t need me for that. Luckily.

At work, I didn’t have to change my boss’s diaper. I can’t really comment on whether or not she wore diapers. But if she did, I am sure they were all designer and stuff. Because she was fancy. (Read: really effing pretentious and horrible.)

At work, my boss didn’t cry when something didn’t go her way and didn’t need me to console her. However, she did not know how to use a fax machine.  And she did tend to call me from across the building to fax things for her on a regular basis. And the fax machine was literally FIVE STEPS from her office. So…there’s that.

At work, my sleep didn’t get interrupted because someone had gas. There are a few reasons for this. The obvious one is that I didn’t ever get to sleep at work. Because, obviously, they wouldn’t let me do that. And the other was because at work, other people’s gas was not my problem. Now, other peoples’s gas is most certainly my problem. And it causes crying.

Sometimes I think that in a few months, maybe I will get a part time job to just…get out of the house for a bit and talk to adults. But then I reconsider. Because adults are…well…not always all they are cracked up to be. And who wouldn’t want the opportunity to stay home with their spawn? Even if it IS a harder job than anything else I’ve done…

 

 

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The Haps…

Oh, internet, how I have missed you. Turns out, I needed a new modem. Which, of course, takes, like a bizzillion years to get. And then, you know, because I have all this money, I had to buy a new computer because mine was DONE with it all. And then my car wouldn’t start. So then I bought myself a new fuel pump too! Because I’m getting married and going on vacation in less than two weeks and don’t have ENOUGH to stress about.

So, there it is. That’s how I’ve been doing. How are YOU, internet?

It is looking like MB and I will not be having a reception when we return from Las Vegas. Not because we don’t want to celebrate with everyone, or anything, but because without the internet or a car during the day for a really long time, it is pretty difficult to scope out venues and find catering. And, even though my dad AND uncle are chefs and will be here for the festivities, I just don’t feel that making them cater would be very cool of me. You know, because they might want to celebrate too. And by celebrate, I mean drink a lot of beer. Since my dad is coming from out of the country, I really only have one weekend that I can have a party that he can attend. Which happens to be the weekend that Baby L will be baptized. I have to pile it all in there in two days and I just can’t figure out how to do it. So…it looks like we might just have to have a casual party later on down the road. One that won’t involve me pulling all of my hair out. And one, without my dad. Which sort of sucks.

I AM, getting super excited about the wedding. Well, not specifically the wedding, but the fun that we are about to have in Vegas. It has been SO long since I have been there…or had any kind of vacation, that I almost feel like something is going to happen and I won’t be able to go. Or someone is going to ruin it. (Which, if it were to happen, would be MB’s idiot brother who is coming to Vegas and, unfortunately staying in our timeshare with my family…Fuuuuuuuck.) But, I have already alerted everyone who will be there, that if he gets all stupid on me, I will a) kick him out of the condo and/or b) chop certain parts of his anatomy off and shove them into his face holes. The end.

I’m about to be a mom AND a wife. Holy shit, you guys, HOLY SHIT.

 

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Open Letter to Baby L at Four Months

Dear Lilah,

Today you are four months old. Can you believe it? (Well, considering that you currently have no idea, I’m sure, that FOUR WHOLE MONTHS is a big deal…you probably don’t really care…) I certainly can’t.

Your third month of life was SUPER stressful for me because you had a cold and then it went away. And then you got a worse cold after your cousin started school. I spent about 95% of my time panicking and listening to your breathing to make sure that you weren’t going to suffocate. Then I spent the other 5% of my time panicking that I might be panicking too much and wondering if I should be medicated or if this was normal for a new, first-time mom. Either way, it was pretty rough. There was a lot of snot involved. And only about half of it was yours, because I got super sick too. No fun. But nothing the two of us couldn’t handle. We’re like the dream team, you and I.

You have become super giggly, despite all the gunk in your face. You like to look at your reflection in mirrors and you are generally happy to sit in a bean bag and have brightly colored toys held in front of you so that you can grab at them and try and put them into your mouth. You do the same with my hair. But you also like to stick your entire hand into MY mouth, so I suppose we are even.Your dad and I were watching a little show called “Hell’s Kitchen” and having a discussion the other day about how people get to be so lucky as to eat in the HK restaurant and he looked at you, sitting there in the bean bag, recovering from tummy time, and asked you, “Do you have to have tickets!?” in a super high-pitched voice. And you cracked up with him for a half hour while he repeated the question over and over again. I think you both had a wonderful time with that. I should take a video of the way that he talks to you so you can see, when you’re older, what a dork your father is. But, remember, he’s OUR dork. And we love him dearly.

Tomorrow, you will have your four month vaccinations. And of course, I am a nervous wreck because I always end up crying more than you do while also sort of wanting to punch the nurse in the face for hurting you. Luckily, your Aunt Amanda will be coming with me to your appointment so that a) I might cry less if I am not holding you while they jab you with needles and b) I don’t punch anyone for hurting you. It should all be fine.

Your hair is finally starting to get a bit longer and it feels glorious on my chin when we’re cuddling. I’m so glad that you’ll still cuddle with me (not as much as when you were brand new but still enough that I get my baby fix every day) and you are actually getting better than ever at it. Now it is less because you have no choice and can’t hold your head up, but because you want your mommy. And that makes something inside me feel all warm and fuzzy and like I just might exlode.

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You make a ton of faces now. When you are displeased, you make a pouty face that, however heartbreaking, is also freaking hilarious. One day recently, you were dressed up and ready to go and visit Grandma J and you started to cry. The pouty lips were in full effect. But there I was, trying to comfort you, but you were so darn cute, I found myself laughing hysterically. (Sorry for that. I would say it won’t happen again, but I cannot promise this.)

As always, everyone loves you and wants to make you smile. But, for now at least, you save most of the smiles and giggles just for me. And you make your mommy all melty inside. You are truly one of a kind, my Lilah. One of a kind indeed.

All of my love,

Mom

Update: on this day in history, your father put you into the bathtub. In your socks.

Boobs…and Other Stuff

I’m happy to announce that our Vegas Elvis wedding has been booked for October 16th! I still can’t believe how much has happened to me over the last twelve months. Last September, I found out I was pregnant, then in November, I was fired for being pregnant, then I got engaged in January, had a baby in May, moved in with family in July and now I’m getting hitched. Sheesh. What a long, strange trip its been…

I still haven’t found a dress for the wedding. And yes, I am aware that I am cutting it super close here, but I am having trouble finding anything I like due to this post-baby body. I am basically the same size as I was (everywhere except the boobage) but things are distributed differently. And it is weird. And it makes dress shopping nearly impossible. Also, and I think I have mentioned this before, my knockers are enormous. And I’m finding that, because of this, I’m having to find even BIGGER dresses than before and then I just look…well…frumpy. So…there it is. My boobs have taken over my life.

I have to say, I’m really not even concerned with being all fancy and perfect on our day, because, let’s face it, we’re getting married in Las Vegas and we are totally not trying to impress anyone. I just want to look put together and happy. And if my boobs cooperate, looking happy won’t be a problem for me.

I have to say, I am super excited about this vacation. The wedding will be awesome, but the vacation is going to be stellar. One of my cousins (who I am not super close with) is getting married on the same day in Las Vegas. And it is super awesome, because it means that some of my family will be there. They won’t be coming to OUR wedding, but they will be hopping all around the city for the whole week. So, I’m looking forward to all of that debauchery.

It has definitely been hard to adjust to living with a five-year-old and two more adults. MB’s family really is great, but living with them can be a little hard for me. Mainly because  a) I don’t like noise, b) I hate dirty dishes, and c) sometimes I’m not wearing pants. Living with a little kid who isn’t yours and is sort of…well…disobedient and hyper as hell…I think would be hard for anyone. But then there’s me. And I’m a little OCD and have some pretty strong opinions on parenting. Or at least, how one should NOT parent. So, it is everything I can do just to keep my mouth shut sometimes. Kids are noisy. Disobedient kids are noisy and irritating.

And the dirty dishes. Holy crap, the dirty dishes. I can’t even talk about them. It hurts my little anal retentive heart.

The worst part though, is probably the privacy issue. It isn’t like anyone just barges into our room at all hours or anything. And the kid has, for the most part, gotten the message that our room is basically OFF LIMITS. But MB’s sister definitely did get a nice view of my ass the other day and MB’s mom definitely went through my closet yesterday to borrow shoes from me. This is absolutely NOT COOL if you are me, by the way. And I did have to say something this morning to her, even though I really didn’t want to step on any toes (but I guess since she was wearing MY shoes, it was all good), but I needed her to understand that I’m not a fan of people (ANYONE) rifling through my things when I’m not home. Or if I am home. Or…you know…just ever. I had all night last night to calm down to prevent flying off the handle about it, so I think that, by the time I finally got to talk to her, I was over it enough that I didn’t sound like a crazy person.  But man…that’s exactly the stuff that makes me hate living with people.

But I’m still grateful to be here. And I love every one of them to pieces. I just hope they’re prepared, if they don’t stop invading my privacy, to see a whole lot more than they bargained for.

Because, for real. Sometimes, I’m not wearing pants.

Trying to Maintain

I used to be a little annoyed when my friends started to drop off of the face of the planet because they had babies. In fact, the minute they announced pregnancy, I couldn’t help but feel a little let down. Like, “Another One Bites the Dust” was playing in the background of that conversation, every time I had it with someone. Because, you know, when someone has a baby, they are never quite the same. And, as you get older, one by one, your Happy Hour partners get picked off and start spending time researching carseats and holistic remedies and then there is no one to drink martinis with. And this lady doesn’t like to drink martinis alone.

When I got pregnant, I knew that things would change. And during the pregnancy I became a hermit. Partially because I felt so hideous that the thought of leaving the house made me cringe and partially because I had become “that pregnant friend” who can’t do any of the fun stuff. No Happy Hours. No martinis. No fun at all.

Once I had Baby L, I thought that, at least for the most part, I would go back to being the same person I was before I got pregnant. And I did. Mostly. Only now, I am less concerned with Happy Hour and more concerned with carseats and holistic cold remedies. And there is nothing wrong with that. But I do have an understanding now that I didn’t before. My friends have fallen off the face of the planet because raising kids requires, not only your undivided attention, but also a whole lot of persistence. And patience. And sacrifice. And I’m totally cool with that. At least…I am now.

And I see now, how difficult it can be to maintain friendships when the only time you get to make phone calls is in the middle of the night because that’s when the baby is sleeping. And you aren’t doing laundry. Or sucking snot out of someone’s nose. And I see some of my friends becoming a little resentful. Or distant. And, it isn’t that I don’t care. Its just that I have a lot more important things to think about now. I can’t attend every gathering. Or meet everyone for lunch with a sick, cranky baby. Or drink wine in the middle of the day. And I won’t apologize for that. And I say to those friends, “I ain’t mad atcha” for being a little distant. Because when you had your kids, I probably stayed away. You know, to avoid snot. And crying. And all that shit that mommies deal with. Because, you know, I wasn’t a mommy. And I didn’t want to deal with it.

What does surprise me, however, is that the friends of mine who HAVE kids are the ones who are seemingly the most impatient with me. Like, they are the ones who seem irritated when I can’t attend things because I can’t get a sitter. And that’s confusing. Because, excuse me friends with kids, but remember when sometimes you don’t have someone to watch your kid(s)? Or they are puking? Or your house is covered in slime because everyone has a cold? Remember? Yeah. That’s where I’m at. (Obviously, this isn’t directed at every one of my friends with kids, because some of you rock my face off, regardless of puking or colds or what have you…)

Friendships are hard. And now I understand that I might have been one of the people who made them harder for some of you guys with little ones…because I just really didn’t get it. But I got you now. Loud and clear, universe. LOUD. AND. CLEAR.

And…Now for More SNOT!

So, I don’t really get sick a lot. Sometimes, I go so long in between illnesses that I forget what it feels like to be sick and then when people around me have colds, I find myself cussing them in my head and calling them pansies. (Men, especially. But they tend to be exceptionally whiney when it comes to colds.)

Then, my baby got a cold. And then I convinced that she had everything from swine flu to whooping cough.  And then she got better. And eventually, even though she was still a little stuffy, she was back to her normal, cheerful self. She went back to sleeping all night and cooing at me all morning while we played with her toys.

And then I got a cold.

It started with a sore throat, which escalated to the point that it felt as though I had attempted to eat a few sheets of sandpaper and a headache that felt sort of like the top of my head was going to just pop right off. And a little clown was going to pop out. (I just pictured my head as a Jack-in-the-Box, in case you didn’t catch that…) And I was okay with having a cold, because 1. I had wine and 2. I am not a pansy.

Eventually, though, I realized that wine does not cure a cold. And, though I still was not a pansy, I realized that, “hey. I feel kind of shitty. That’s no good.” and then I went to sleep. And MB’s mom watched Baby L for a few hours in the morning so I could bury myself in my down comforter and pretend that I was living back in those days when I still had time to bury myself in my comforter for several hours and sleep. When I woke up, I felt better. But still not quite human. There was no more sandpaper. And the little clown had kept himself contained.  I finished out yesterday feeling tired, but generally, you know, not like  a pansy.  And then about 1 o’clock this morning, Baby L woke up and sounded like she had taken all the snot from everyone else in the whole house and jammed it into her tiny face. And so I changed her, fed her, slathered her with baby chest rub and turned on that humidifier thing (that everyone tells me to use, but that seems to make absolutely no difference in the amount of snot that my baby keeps in her face). All seemed to be well (except for the fact that now, I couldn’t sleep because I could only breathe out of my left nostril and only if I was laying on the left side of my body, which I can’t do because that’s just not how I roll.  Oh yeah, and because I was obsessing over the possibility that Baby L would suffocate on all the snot.

Because Baby L sleeps through the night, I rarely panic anymore about something tragic happening while I rest, (this is not to say that I don’t sometimes check 47 times at night to make sure she’s breathing…but now it is only sometimes and not, you know, every night…) but let me tell you…after I got done with that bulb thing, I couldn’t imagine there being anything left in there…but there was, internet, there really, really was…So…I broke down at  4:30 when she woke up, practically snorting, and gave her Benadryl (before you get all crazy-pants on me, internet, this is what the doctor TOLD me to do…) and it helped. And she did super good until around 10:30 when she had her second bottle. And then the snorty screaming started. There were saline drops, there was nose-suckage, there were tears. (Many of which were mine.) And about an hour ago, there was another dose of Benadryl.

And now, either my baby is just high, or she is feeling better. Maybe a little bit of both. But how much snot does one person have to endure!?