Bloggers block gives you dog stories

There are days were I wake with words, sentences and paragraphs twirling around my brain to make fantastic blog postings. I will write them in my head in hopes of remembering them by the time I log on to the computer. These amazing stories come to me while I am driving, in the shower, working out at the gym, anywhere but right here. I have a block and so I am defaulting to a mellow blog about my dogs. Sorry, that is the best I can come up with tonight.

The dogs are out to get me. The constantly run circles around my chair tapping their tiny paws on the wood floors just to see me look down and acknowledge their annoyance.

Those precious tiny paws who refuse to step in a puddle. They are currently sitting there with their legs crossed refusing and I mean refusing to go outside to use the bathroom because a drop of rain hit the ground.

This will in turn lead to them having an on-purpose accident. They know what they are doing. They are out to get me.

When I walk in the door carrying groceries, a screaming baby in a heavy car seat, the mail, the keys and the diaper bag they play bongos on the back of my knees to make me trip. I am now immune to anything hitting the back of my knees when I walk. Try it, I dare you.

I know I could sit here and tell a million stories about my dogs but that is all you get for one day. Maybe tomorrow I will carry a pad of paper to write down the splendor of my mind when it happens. Maybe.

It's the game we play and I hate that game...

I believe showers are God's gift to me for not strangling little Susie's parents when they complain she didn't get enough playing time on the soccer field. (Susie's real name has been changed to protect her guilty parents.) Showers are my 'me' time. I don't want to be bothered as it is a sacred time of day. Lately that sacred time has been interrupted by a beautiful princess. She plans it perfectly so as soon as the scorching hot water hits my hair, she screams murder. It is a game we play and I should add I hate that game. Today was a rainy day filled with pajamas, cuddling, cleaning and like all other days- being covered in bodily fluids from an infant. So when the darling Husband walked in offering to cook dinner I was thrilled. Hailey was asleep in her pack and play and Husband started dinner. I ran off to God's gift- the shower and that is where it all started...

I turned the water to the normal level of burn the hell out of your skin. As I stood there washing my hair I realized I had just done something tragic. I left the Husband to cook dinner AND take care of Hailey. As my mind started to wander I felt the water getting cooler than burning hell, this seemed to take the back burner as I pictured Husband trying to deal with both things. He is an absolute wonderful Dad but I wasn't sure he could multi-task yet. What would happen if the baby started to cry and he held her while he was cooking? Wow, the water is getting colder. Would he dare try and hold her while handling boiling hot water? I started washing my hair faster. What about the dogs? What if they ran out and he was cooking and the baby was crying? Good gracious why is the water getting colder?! I am shaving my legs faster than ever. As blood is pouring down from the rapid shaving and I am screaming at the decreasing temperature of the water I started thinking what if there was a grease fire and Hailey was crying?! Damn it, this water is freezing! Why on earth would I decide to shower and leave my husband to all that responsibility? I barely finished washing the conditioner out of my hair when I slammed off the freezing water and ran out of the bathroom barely dry enough to not bust my butt on the hardwood floors only to find my lovely husband with dinner on the table and the baby still fast asleep. There was no grease fire, no cooking disasters, no runaway dogs, and most importantly no crying baby.

A joy in cleaning lost cookies

After my post yesterday I decided it was time to write about the delivery and the 89 day NICU stay. Do you like how I continue to remind you it was 89 days? 89 days, 89 days! That is 3 months. That is 1/4 of a year. It is the amount of time it takes marijuana to stop showing in your hair. A rabbit can have 3 separate pregnancies. 3 months is a very, very long time. I digress. So I was going to write about the delivery and NICU stay and all day I planned how I would sit at the computer and be brave. I finally settled down with a cup of roasted almonds, iced tea and the trusty computer...and then...I heard that awful noise that makes everyone cringe...Hailey 'lost her cookies' to say it politely. Thus began an evening of scrubbing the sofa, mopping the freshly cleaned wood floors and calming a now screaming baby. And you know what? I can honestly say I loved every moment of the scrubbing because I was able to be the one who helped my baby. I soothed her. I cleaned her mess. And I didn't have to ask if I can wipe my baby's mouth, change her spoiled clothes, or rock her to calm the tears. I was able to be a mother and not a bystander. It was 3 days before I was able to see my baby. It was 7 days before I was able to hold my baby. It was 89 days before she would come home. It was 135 days before I held my baby without being tied down to a beeping monitor. These numbers make me proud to care for my baby when she is not feeling well. After all, she is my baby.

My Fat Bottomed Girl has her ears pierced

As soon as I found out I was having a girl, I knew I would pierce her ears. I pictured her learning to walk with little pink diamond studs.When the pediatrician said she would pierce Hailey's ears once she had her second set of shots I was thrilled. When the big day finally came I was not nearly as confident. The thought of torturing my little princess for earrings, was I crazy? Well before I could blink it was over. Hailey was more traumatized that we held her down than the actual piercing itself. Although I am sure she screamed a few curse words at me, she is now quietly singing to herself as she sleeps. She is one amazingly tough little girl.

In honor of her hitting double digits in her weight we should all sing a line from Queen, "Fat bottomed girls".

10 pounds 8 ounces!

Real Fears

There are times when I miss her monitor. The times when I am leaping out of bed in the middle of the night just to check on her breathing. The times when she is taking a nap and I am trying to sweep the floors but I cannot take my eyes off of her. When we are driving down the road and I stare at the mirror facing her car seat trying to see if she is ok. Then there are times when I want to put her in a bubble and protect her from the world. I run into Walgreens to pick up diapers and as I stand in line I fear the person behind me has RSV and my little princess will catch it. I go to the doctor and feel the germs floating through the air chasing after me as I just try and protect her until we get called back. My hands and arms are cracking from the hand washing and sanitizer. I am constantly looking at her making sure she is not desatting. I fear SIDS, A's, B's, and D's, RSV, the flu, the common cold, germs in general, cigarette smoke, strong scents, the thought of going back in the hospital, or just failing. Failing from keeping her safe from this big germy unpredictable world.

I recently made the mistake of reading the blog of a mother who had a daughter in the NICU. Although every NICU story is different, the babies tend to all follow the same obstacles. This baby was no exception to the rule. I was reading the blog in reverse chronological order, which means I knew the outcome far before I read the journey. After the little girl was about a year old, the child caught a severe respiratory infection and passed suddenly. The mother also blogged about another NICU graduate who died unexpectedly in the car seat while heading to the doctor.

I already had the fears of these things happening, but knowing they happened to real babies and to real parents is truly terrifying. I thought I had insomnia before, have you seen the bags under my eyes lately? They are like a monster taking over my face.

The hungry, pooping, teething girl is awake and is demanding the hunger feeling be fixed. Immediately.

Drool, poop, sleep, and teething

I am sitting here with a teething baby and needed to find some sanity. I realized it has been quite some time since I even looked at my blog. I opened it to find that I have completely skipped the most important events in my pregnancy: the delivery. I sat on this for a few minutes and determined I was not in the state of mind to go through the events of delivering 12 weeks early and the 89 days Hailey Rose spent in the NICU. Today, I am focusing on the fact that she is here with me, teething.

I read through some blogs of other SAHM and came to the conclusion that my blog will be completely uneventful with a "newborn" compared to their tales of toddler-hood. So I guess you are stuck with hearing about drool, poop, sleep, and of course teething.

This morning Hailey decided it was a good morning to wake me up by babbling. It is much more pleasant than murderous screams which make my heart leap out of chest and hit the ceiling fan before spiraling back down into my chest. As I picked her up I noticed the pretty pink sheets under her were covered in little hairs. Her hair is falling out which has me in a panic. I quickly thought of what glue would work best on putting it back on or if Rogain was in order. I know this is inevitable for babies but her locks were just stunning.

I have decided to take the traditional first-time mom route with feeding. This is not to say it is bad, but everyone has told me I will change my mind on the "second" child. Before I continue I must say there are no plans in the near future for the second child, it is a hypothetical baby for now. Back to the food. I did some research and took the advice of the pediatrician on the food schedule. This is important for the digestive system and since we know our little princess likes to have tummy problems, we figured this was best. Now I am gradually increasing the number of solid meals she gets and we are currently still on two. I believe this is partly due to my sleep deprived tiredness and her teething. It is like oil and water, they just don't mix. I still feel bad for Hailey because this means she has to eat a vegetable for breakfast. This wasn't so bad when we were on yellow veggies, but the green. Well, that cannot be enjoyable for anyone but Hailey and the dogs who get to eat the leftovers. The dogs love the fact Hailey is on solids. They stand in the splash-zone anxiously waiting for the inevitable moment when the food comes flying from the sky and splats onto the floor. I am sure they compare this to what Heaven must be like.

Speaking of food, it is 3pm and my idea of throwing the chicken in the crockpot at this late in the afternoon means I will be eating raw chicken. I don't know about you but raw chicken turns my stomach more than mashed green veggies in the morning. If only my fantastic grill was clean and had gas. I purchased this little table top grill two years ago and I think it is the best $35 I have ever spent. Ever.

And with that, I will leave you for today with hopes of being back tomorrow for my tales of the pooping, sleeping, eating, and now teething baby girl.