Sunday, February 20, 2011
100.3
Kayla has a fever. Not a big fever. It's only 100.3, but a fever nonetheless. It's her first one and though we've had her be sick before with colds, flu, etc., watching her with the fever is no fun. She had a terrible night last night, was awake from 3-5 and then slept fitfully until 700, but only after I finally gave in and crawled into bed with her. Well, okay, really I brought her into bed with me. Crawling into her crib would have been an experience, one I was tempted to try after having her sleeping self kick my in the ribs for an hour straight, but without looking up weight limits...seemed risky. Anyhow, so she had a rough night and then was simply off all day. She fussed and didn't really want to play...she couldn't seem to find anything that made her happy and we couldn't find anything to soothe her either and so most of the day was spent either taking family naps or cuddling the little one while walking in circles around the house. It must be so frustrating. I know how crappy I feel with a fever - aches, chills, hot flashes...and to be that little, have no idea what's going on, to be unable to tell anyone how you're feeling...poor little baby. And poor mommy and daddy who have gotten very little sleep these last couple nights and who are preparing themselves for another long night tonight. We're not sure if she's coming down with something or if this is more teething. She's pretty much fine other than the fever - no sniffles, no coughing. But then, for all we know, her throat is a fiery mess and she hasn't found a way to let us know. How nice will it be when she learns how to speak? How nice will it be for her and us when she can look up and say "Mommy, my head hurts"? I'm sure there will be plenty of downsides to speech acquisition - "no" for instance - but the pluses will certainly outweigh the minuses. At least until she's thirteen. At that point, we might ask God to take her speech back.
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Thursday, February 10, 2011
Go Suck a Prune
You've seen that commercial for the new Jennifer Aniston movie? The one where she is lying on a beach chair watching a model-esque blond in a bikini exit the water and the 300-pound woman next to her turns to her and says "It's girls like that that make you and me not want to put on a swimsuit." You've seen the way Aniston then looks both amused and appalled? Well, that was exactly the same way I looked yesterday when a very similar thing happened to me.
Kayla and I were standing in line at the grocery store waiting to check out. On both sides of us were racks of tabloids talking about the newest celebrity pregnancies. The woman in front of me turned to me and said "What is with all of these models getting pregnant?" "I don't know," I replied "Guess it's something in the water." "Maybe," she said "but, you would think that models would be more worried about what was going to happen to their bodies. I mean for normal girls like you and me, who cares? I mean, we're not exactly working with perfection. But for models...yikes."
...
Thank you?
This woman was, I kid you not, about 85 years old (good thing for her, because it meant I couldn't beat her down), 4'4" and probably 200lbs. "Girls like you and me." Sheesh, lady. Project much? Do you need your eyes examined? I ain't saying I'm perfect, but you're seeing a mirror image? Give me a break.
So, fighting down the urge to let my vanity get the better of me, I simply say, "Well, maybe they decided the pluses of having a child outweigh the risks." At this point, Grandma looks down at my baby, then back up at me, then down at the baby and says "Could have fooled me."
...excuse me? Oh no you didn't. You did not mess with the baby. You did not question the worth of the adorable smiling little bundle of cuddly mush for whom I live.
Lady, you are single-handedly responsible for my faith in humanity getting shredded just a little bit further...or at least my faith in women and their ability to age gracefully. I am truly sorry that this woman either had some seriously worthless children (can't imagine where they get it from...) or that she never had kids and doesn't know the sheer joy that they can bring, but either way, could ya leave me and my giggling baby out of it? We were just standing here...minding our own business...feeling pretty darned good about the day...and now you've managed to trash both my body and her sweetness all in one fell swoop. You are clearly a Bad fairy. An old, round, bad fairy. That's right. I said it. You would too had she said it to you. Bad old fairy. Go suck on a prune.
Kayla and I were standing in line at the grocery store waiting to check out. On both sides of us were racks of tabloids talking about the newest celebrity pregnancies. The woman in front of me turned to me and said "What is with all of these models getting pregnant?" "I don't know," I replied "Guess it's something in the water." "Maybe," she said "but, you would think that models would be more worried about what was going to happen to their bodies. I mean for normal girls like you and me, who cares? I mean, we're not exactly working with perfection. But for models...yikes."
...
Thank you?
This woman was, I kid you not, about 85 years old (good thing for her, because it meant I couldn't beat her down), 4'4" and probably 200lbs. "Girls like you and me." Sheesh, lady. Project much? Do you need your eyes examined? I ain't saying I'm perfect, but you're seeing a mirror image? Give me a break.
So, fighting down the urge to let my vanity get the better of me, I simply say, "Well, maybe they decided the pluses of having a child outweigh the risks." At this point, Grandma looks down at my baby, then back up at me, then down at the baby and says "Could have fooled me."
...excuse me? Oh no you didn't. You did not mess with the baby. You did not question the worth of the adorable smiling little bundle of cuddly mush for whom I live.
Lady, you are single-handedly responsible for my faith in humanity getting shredded just a little bit further...or at least my faith in women and their ability to age gracefully. I am truly sorry that this woman either had some seriously worthless children (can't imagine where they get it from...) or that she never had kids and doesn't know the sheer joy that they can bring, but either way, could ya leave me and my giggling baby out of it? We were just standing here...minding our own business...feeling pretty darned good about the day...and now you've managed to trash both my body and her sweetness all in one fell swoop. You are clearly a Bad fairy. An old, round, bad fairy. That's right. I said it. You would too had she said it to you. Bad old fairy. Go suck on a prune.
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
Monday, February 7, 2011
Mmm Mmm Good
This morning I fed my daughter Crisco for breakfast. Yes, Crisco. C.R.I.S.C.O. The lard-like "all-vegetable shortening" nastiness that you use to grease cooking sheets. Mmhmm.
We sat at the table and I spread a little on a couple small chunks of toast and watched her go to town. Then I licked a little stray cream cheese off my finger and thought, "Hmm...this cream cheese has no taste. What brand is this?" I turned over the foil it was wrapped in, "Crisco. Crisco? Crisco makes cream cheese or this is actually....oh crap!"
Dear Kayla,
I am sorry that your first taste of cream cheese was actually a taste of something that is not meant to be ingested as a food item. I know you thought it was tasty enough and wolfed it down like it was chocolate buttercream frosting, but still. Some day when you know what Crisco really is, please know that I did not intentionally feed it to you, I was merely delirious from a night of little sleep (See? It's really your own fault.) and oops...
Seriously, Crisco. And I was having guilt over giving her some restaurant prepared cheese quesadilla the day before due to its potentially high salt content. Ha! At least I realized my Crisco mistake only a few bites in. Can you imagine if she'd had an entire piece of toast covered in that? Her insides would have been a veritable oil slick and, well, I guess Daddy and I would have been the ones to pay the price. "Look out! Thar she blows!" And we thought what we'd been dealing with was nasty...
welcome to the world of heavily greased baby intestines. Mmmm.
On the plus side, I guess we now know that she's not allergic to soy bean or palm oil. Which was a major concern...because we'd been giving her a lot of those two things...and of course, it's good to know that if we're ever stranded on a desert island and the only thing that washes ashore with us is Crisco, well, we might just make it.
We sat at the table and I spread a little on a couple small chunks of toast and watched her go to town. Then I licked a little stray cream cheese off my finger and thought, "Hmm...this cream cheese has no taste. What brand is this?" I turned over the foil it was wrapped in, "Crisco. Crisco? Crisco makes cream cheese or this is actually....oh crap!"
Dear Kayla,
I am sorry that your first taste of cream cheese was actually a taste of something that is not meant to be ingested as a food item. I know you thought it was tasty enough and wolfed it down like it was chocolate buttercream frosting, but still. Some day when you know what Crisco really is, please know that I did not intentionally feed it to you, I was merely delirious from a night of little sleep (See? It's really your own fault.) and oops...
Seriously, Crisco. And I was having guilt over giving her some restaurant prepared cheese quesadilla the day before due to its potentially high salt content. Ha! At least I realized my Crisco mistake only a few bites in. Can you imagine if she'd had an entire piece of toast covered in that? Her insides would have been a veritable oil slick and, well, I guess Daddy and I would have been the ones to pay the price. "Look out! Thar she blows!" And we thought what we'd been dealing with was nasty...
welcome to the world of heavily greased baby intestines. Mmmm.
On the plus side, I guess we now know that she's not allergic to soy bean or palm oil. Which was a major concern...because we'd been giving her a lot of those two things...and of course, it's good to know that if we're ever stranded on a desert island and the only thing that washes ashore with us is Crisco, well, we might just make it.
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
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