Saturday, July 25, 2009

last post on this topic, I promise

(this will be the last post on this topic at least for a while; I promised Ben)

Okay, so seriously. The exploding poo is NOT stopping! We went up another size in diapers (thanks for the tip, Megan!). Can I just duct tape them to her back in an attempt to create an airtight seal that poo cannot permeate?

ICK! This time, it soaked through my pants and underwear. And, in some freak of nature, it barely got onto Abby's outfit despite getting alllll over my own clothing and the chair upon which we were sitting. Is this what we can expect until potty training succeeds?!? NO ONE TOLD ME ABOUT EXPLODING DIAPER POO!!!! I might rescind earlier statements about vomit; poo smeared all over me might just gross me out the most. But then again, I haven't been vomited upon.

In the meantime, we're having fun throwing our legs in the air and rolling over all while making cute, pay-attention-to-me-cause-I'm-just-cute-(and smart) noises.

(The lactation consultant at the hospital where we delivered told us a story about when she just had her daughter, who is now a teenager, that she thought how unfair it was that girl babies were always referred to in diminuitive terms like "cute" and "precious" while boys get stronger adjectives like "smart." So, whenever she told her infant daughter how beautiful she was (which, I have come to discover, is impossible to avoid because it's oh so true), she always told Kate that she was smart, too. Ben and I have decided to follow her example. We do have a beautiful daughter; and she's smart, too!!)

Monday, July 20, 2009

Another point of view on my previous thoughts

I look back at what I wrote a couple of days ago about baby blowouts, and I think...egads, it can get worse. Incredibly enough, a little bitty baby can create quite a bit of poo damage in the space of just a few seconds.

It begins like this: "My stomach feels oddly warm."
It continues like this: "My hand is disturbingly wet."
And then like this: "What...?!?!?"
And: "Oh good gracious. Again?"
Then: "What!!!!!!!!!!!! Ben!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I need you!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
Finally: "How is this possible? Where to start? There is so much poo. It's everywhere. And, why have you never done this to anyone but me??"

Today's damages include Abby's bloomers, Abby's dress, Amy's shirt, Amy's stomach (soaked through), Amy's shorts, Amy's legs (it was dripping), and the carpet! Seriously, the carpet. Talented, my daughter.

My shirt was suddenly so full of poo that is soaked through and couldn't hold more, so the excess started dripping down the front onto the aforementioned shorts, legs and carpet. Oh so gross. At least the carpet it getting ripped out in a few days because now it sports not only the multi-colored stains from the previous owners (pink, blue, brown...), the grayish wear and tear, probably some random cat puke spots, but now it has verifiable poo stains. I shudder.

Friday, July 17, 2009

stress issues

My little fluffy guy has a new (or worsened) stress disorder. Leo, my big poofy, has taken to pulling his fur out tuft after orange tuft, leaving a good sized baldish spot and a smaller, going-to-be-baldish spot on his back. Egads, this can't be good.

It took the combined efforts of Ben and me 15 minutes (two capable adults v. disgruntled cat) to get him in the cat carrier just so that I could drag him to the vet, whereupon he was combed for fleas again (still nothing) and then diagnosed with a stress/anxiety disorder.

Alas, what has brought about this hair-pulling inclination in my lovable boo? Ah, yes...there is a new little member of the fam who cries a lot. Leo has never been socially inclined, and I guess that he sees Abby as some little usurper who just won't go away. He's getting better, but he's still pulling the fur out. What's to be done? Is he destined to a life of cortizone shots or Prozac?? Those seem to be the options.

And, oops, didn't think about how the new carpet was going to send him into a mini tizzy. I found 3 clumps of pulled out fur on him yesterday, the day after the carpet came. How's he going to react to the rest of the new flooring that's going to be installed in a few days? Sigh.

Thursday, July 16, 2009

Watch out for tails

Here's some miscellaneous gumbo that's been simmering on my stove lately.

***We got new carpet! We almost got it 2 (or 3?) years ago but a new hot water heater took precedence. Since then, I kept bringing it up. Ben kept putting it off. And now that we have a wee little lass, why not totally disrupt everything and throw the house into chaos??? Sounds like a plan. Or, Ben finally acknowledged that if we want to be able to sell our house some day, we should probably replace the stained, frayed excuse for carpeting that is/was in our house. So the bedroom has been transformed, and the living room is up next. We decided on wood laminate for the living room instead of carpet, which won't be installed for another week and a half or so. Ben and the neighbor are going to do it, which might inspire another post on another day depending on how it goes.

***Ben's been watching a lot of what I categorize as dumb movies lately. I guess that's what happens when you spend more time than normal in a recliner trying to feed, burp, quiet, get to sleep, or otherwise mollify a little girl. Currently, "Dragonheart"...this is the type of movie that makes me think, "I used to like Dennis Quaid and Sean Connery until now." I still like them, but my allegiance is seriously tested when I see a big, doofy dragon with the voice of Connery. Oh James Bond, how you've fallen.

***We're having issues with blow outs. And, as I discovered yesterday, a baby doesn't have to be laying down for poo to flow up and out of a saturated diaper. Four blow outs in just over a week. And all while laying on my lap or being held upright against my stomach. I even asked her to not overflow her diaper yesterday when it was apparant that she was in the process of filling it. She didn't listen, and my white tank top is no longer just white. Really, I didn't need the brown Rorschact splotch on that particular shirt. Abby is 7 weeks old now, and I'm already tired of cleaning up poo-ed clothing. Though, I dare say that no one is ever really not tired of it or happy about it. If you are, you're mental (to quote Ron Weasley).

***We're going to use our first babysitter so that we can see the new Harry Potter movie sometime soon. I kinda hate this.

***Last night as I was washing my face and preparing for bed, I was deep in thought about what to blog about today. Leo came in (ventured across the new, funny feeling, smelly carpet) to hang with me in the bathroom like he likes to do. I thought he left, turned to leave the bathroom, and promptly trod quite heavily on the poor guy's tail. This cat who normally squeeks let out a rather harsh spit. Oops. I've kicked my black cat in the dark before, but I've never walked on my cat. Lesson learned. Keep your friends close and your tails closer.

Sunday, July 5, 2009

A new list for a new way of life

What I take with me to enjoy the 4th of July fireworks age 18-25:
*comfortable chair
*picnic/outdoor blanket
*something to drink/snack on
*softball & mitt to pass the time
*frisbee for the same reason
*a good friend or multiple good friends and/or Ben (who does fit into the first category but really is a category of his own, too)

What I take with me to enjoy the 4th of July fireworks age 26:
*comfortable chair (knowing that I probably won't be able to use it)
*sweatshirt (mid 60s)
*soft fleecy blanket for Abby (a picnic blanket would be just too big)
*something to drink/snack on...for Abby (granted, a given)
*diaper & wipes (not a fun way to pass the time, but refreshing nonetheless for some of us)
*rattly toys (this does pass the time, but again, only for some of us)
*a cute, little, out-past-her-bedtime-and-missed-her-bath, girl (she's also a given)

*3 diapers
*2 burp cloths
*a changing pad
*trash bag for used diapers (eww)
*2 pacifiers (a user and a spare)
*an extra onesie (no one wants to wait until returning home to change out of messy clothes)
*a light blanket for the car ride
*a stroller to soothe the (expected) wailing

It's a veritable expedition just to drive to a parking lot to watch fireworks for 30 minutes. It takes planning (when to eat...before? after? during?) and luggage (albeit, cute Vera Bradley luggage). She was hungry and therefore grumpy. It's a pain to try to feed her in the backseat when you share it with a car seat and have limited room. We waited and waited and waited. She wailed and fussed and was generally unhappy, which makes me unhappy that she's uncomfortable.

And then we figured out that the fireworks were postponed one night because of the drizzle (seriously...drizzle). Ironic. Aggravating, but mostly ironic.

"Life is like playing a violin in public and learning the instrument as one goes on." Samuel Butler (ah, the return of the quote)

Thursday, July 2, 2009

Another sign that I'm not really a gardener

Okay, two more signs.

#1: I *had* a gorgeous, bright green, lush (if such is possible) aloe starter plant given to me by Ben's mom from her own established plant. Mine, wierdly enough, soon overtook hers for gorgeousness. We both tend to let our plants sit and forget about them a bit, so I can't claim any aloe plant competence here, but they are somewhat hard to kill, for which I am thankful. I gave another plant (another gift) a sunburn. Maybe I should have rubbed some aloe on it to help with the sting.

You can, actually, kill an aloe plant when you put it in the back of the family vehicle and then let Ben (he's a maniac, maaaaniaac, for suuurreeeeee) drive. It fell over. It dumped out. It fell apart. It basically had no root system, and my big, gorgeous, lush plant fell apart into lots of little aloe plant clumps. All the Ben's horses and all the Ben's men couldn't put aloe plant back together again. About half of it got put back in the pot and now it looks...transplanted. Brown, limp, sickly, not lush. And I love the word lush. Maybe one day it will be lush again. I say that this is a sign that I'm not a gardener because yes, it was my decision to let the poor aloe plant fend for itself in the back of the family car. Unloved. Not buckled in. Allllll byyyyy itselllll-e-elllllffffff. And now it looks pathetic again.

#2: I have been outside exactly once this summer doing anything worth anything. I basically just plant things and then forget about them. My thistles and weeds tend to overshadow my plants. But, I do have very hearty, healthy thistles.