you can do this


The scene: Husband (Very Helpful Husband) is out of town unexpectedly. Ten people are coming to your house for a candle party tomorrow night. House is a mess. You are feeling every bit like you’re in the first trimester of pregnancy because- HEY! Guess what! You are! Long day of work. Headed to pick up your toddler at daycare and then headed to your parents’ house because you are not above letting someone feed you and watch your kid while you lay on the couch and drool.

Kid has hurt her foot playing Ring Around The Rosies at school. For the rest of the night, she is hesitant to walk on it and occasionally whispers ‘OUCH!’ while playing. It doesn’t look bruised or swollen. Two hours after going to bed (and just TWENTY MINUTES after you fall asleep) your kid wakes up sobbing and screaming about her foot hurting. After 30 minutes of trying to calm her down, you give up and head downstairs to watch Finding Nemo. The XBox (which is also the DVD player) controller has dead batteries (OF COURSE) so you spend the next moments frantically searching in the dark for batteries. Finally you borrow some from the remote, but not until after your kid works herself into such a frenzy because Nemo isn’t starting yet that you fear she may throw up. And you are nauseous and exhausted and your Puke-Cleaner-Upper is hours away. And you’re pretty sure Grandma wouldn’t appreciate a midnight phone call to clean up puke from TWO of her girls.

At 1am, you finally convince the kid to go back to bed. The next morning, she’s still favoring her foot and sometimes refuses to walk on it. Call your mom (I WANT MY MOMMMMYYY), decide to head to urgent care. Since you’re knocked up, you need someone to come along in case x-rays are needed because no way is your 2 year old going to do it alone. Grandma agrees to come along.

Shower while the kid plays in her room. While you’re getting dressed, she hobbles in, crying about her foot. HER OTHER FOOT. There’s blood on her sock. An investigation leads to a discovery of a teeny tiny puncture on her big toe. You ask what happened. “I stepped on da ICE!” ICE? What the-? “What ice?” “From da pit-cher!”

A picture frame. Glass. Broken. Stepped in. Good Lord. Band-aid. Wrong one. Must be Jasmine. Band-aid is ‘boddering’ her toe. WHINE AND CRY. Take it off, sock back on. Head to urgent care. Pretty sure your kid is trying to KILL YOU.

X-rays are all clear, many princess stickers are received, instructions for Motrin and rest. Doctor doesn’t notice her other toe, child services is not called. Thankful.

Home for lunch. Nap. House is STILL a wreck, people coming in less than 7 hours. Force yourself to lay on the couch because if you don’t rest now, you will pay for it later. Momentarily regret planning this candle party, even though when you scheduled it, you had no idea you were pregnant. Mom comes over early to help- shovels snow, sweeps floors, is Goddess. Throw some food together, get dressed, hair looks halfway presentable. Party is fun, lots of laughs and wine is consumed (not by you, of course. Preggo.)

That night, your kid suddenly decides that she can’t fall asleep unless you are sitting on the floor next to her bed. It’s probably your fault since it’s nearly 11pm and you two were both partying too late. She’s not even LOOKING IN YOUR DIRECTION, nor does she want you to touch her, hold her hand, or sing to her, but if you try to leave, she grabs your arm and cries, “I NEEEEED YOUUUU!” You sit on the floor for an hour until she passes out. Repeat at 5am.

TIRED.

Sunday is a blur. Husband returns home for 12 hours before he leaves again in the morning for a 4-day work trip. He’s exhausted from his weekend, you’re exhausted from yours, you feel guilty for throwing the kid at him the moment he walks in. You cry while he’s upstairs calming down your child who AGAIN IS CALLING FOR MOMMY TO SIT ON THE FLOOR WHILE SHE FALLS ASLEEP. Feel like a crappy mom, all the while knowing that it’s the hormones and exhaustion making your mind crazy.

Pass out in bed at 9pm. Monday comes. You can do this. It’s only four days, right? (Except he’s leaving AGAIN next week for 3 days. But let’s not think about that now, mm-kay?)

Consider the ramifications of blogging about Husband being out of town. Hi Stalkers and Bad People! I’m hormonal and pregnant, you probably don’t want to come mess with me. Plus, I might have a gun. (I don’t.) (OR MAYBE I DO.)

Today is better. Productive work day. You eat chicken nuggets for dinner with your kid in the kitchen while watching Barbie Swan Lake. She dances, you smile. She goes to bed (seemingly) without incident. You have Gilmore Girls on the DVR, only slightly nauseous tonight.

Things are looking up.

You can do this.

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weekly winners, volume 47


PartyLite party edition!

Weekly Winners @ Sarcastic Mom

concerned over the wine?
concerned over the wine?

weirdos
weirdos

thinking spring
thinking spring

my girl
my girl

auction!
auction!

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Maggie snippets


She spins around the living room (usually wearing a dress or one of her princess outfits) and makes herself dizzy. She stops and says “WHOA! The house is falling!”

—

The only place we have child locks in the house is on our tv cabinet. And she recently learned how to open those (so Hello! DVDs spread all over the house!) One day last week, she was trying to open one of the locks but was having trouble. “AAARRRRRGH! Come ONNNN!” she yelled angrily.

—

When she was a baby, we sang Wheels on the Bus to her approximately 8,192 times a day. Or we listened to the CD with that song on it 7,209 times a day. And my mom has a CD of kid’s music that she plays for Maggie when we’re at her house, and apparently she (my mom) makes a huge deal when Wheels on the Bus comes on. Because in the car if we hear it, Maggie gets really excited and yells “THIS IS GRANDMA’S FAVORITE SONG! OH MY GOODNESS!”

—

A few days after Snowmageddon, she wanted to play outside. It was like NINE degrees out there, so naturally I told her we had to stay in, it was cold.

“But I LIKE cold!”

“Sweetie, this is really cold. DANGEROUS cold.”

“But I LIKE dangerous!”

—

This is probably typical for kids her age but: “Valentimes Day!” nearly killed me every time.

—

Apparently I’ve been whining a bit too much about my first trimester woes, because today she started walking around, saying “I’m so TIRED from this baby in my belly!”

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anniver-surgery


I’ve always been one for remembering dates. The first date for Dan and me. The day he proposed. The day I found out I was pregnant with Maggie. The day we closed on our first house. Those sorts of things. (However, I’m only kind of okay at remembering birthdays. That is, I’ll REMEMBER it’s your birthday, but I most likely will forget to TELL YOU that I remembered it was your birthday. So I’m halfway there.)

So of course today, I reflected on the 20th anniversary of the day that a surgeon cut me open on the operating table, removed most of my innards, and operated on my left kidney. I was ten years old.

It was a long time ago, but I can still remember a lot of things pretty clearly. I remember being very sick for a while- nearly a year- before the doctors figured out what was wrong. I remember my pediatrician telling my mom that I was just nervous about going to school or I was trying to get attention. And of course my mom KNEW that wasn’t true. As I lay on the couch, my face green and pale and my body weak and dehydrated from puking for 7 days straight, she KNEW something was wrong. I remember when we went to Children’s Hospital after a night spent on the couch next to a paper bag, watching Nick at Night. I remember peeing in 8,092 cups and the nurses taking 7,289 vials of blood and undergoing several rather uncomfortable procedures (catheter, anyone?) before they finally did an ultrasound and saw the problem.

When it came time for my surgery, I remember being upset that I was going to miss my 5th grade Valentine’s Day party (and to this day, I can’t remember if I actually missed it or if I was just panicking that I would miss it.) I remember being in the pre-op area, behind a curtain, all alone, and the nurse asked me if I was getting an IV or gas for my anesthesia. Being ten, and scared, I just agreed with whatever she said, and then started crying as she prepped my arm for the needle. Then someone came in and corrected her- I was supposed to get the gas mask instead- so I was saved. I remember when it came time for the gas, it was grape ‘flavored’ and the doctor told me to count backwards from 100. I think I got to 96 before ZOOM! I was waking up in recovery.

I remember the girl in the room with me- she was young, maybe 4? 6?- and she had spina bifida. It made my surgery seem routine and minor, even if I was in pain for a few days. And it makes the 5 inch scar on my left side seem like a non-issue. Sure, my surgery was necessary and it WAS a little bit scary (the doctor later told my parents that if we had waited much longer, my kidney could have burst and then… well, that would have been very bad.) but the surgery fixed the problem and soon, I was good as new. And 20 years later, there have been no other issues.

At the time, I didn’t really understand what a big deal it was, having such an invasive surgery. But now- as a mother- I can only imagine how stressed out and worried my parents were. Imagining my baby girl being sliced open by a surgeon… just. No.

Anyway. So Happy 20th Anniversary, Left Kidney. I’m glad you decided not to explode on me. That was nice of you!

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weekly winners, volume 46


Weekly Winners @ Sarcastic Mom

curls
big girl cup

casino night
Casino Night

dealer
Casino Night

this game hated me & took all my chips.
this game hated me & took all my chips.

red 19
Casino Night

Blackjack
Blackjack

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button winner!


Congrats to Janette, the lucky winner in the Adjust-a-button giveaway. May your pants be always comfortable!

In other news, Maggie has been (semi) successfully drinking from a Big Girl Cup. Only at the table so far, because she doesn’t quite get that you can’t just toss your cup of milk onto the couch if it doesn’t have a lid on it, but it’s definitely a milestone.

big girl cup

(And yes, that’s a Halloween shirt. And it’s February. Don’t judge. It was laundry day.)

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an ode to The Man


When Dan and I got married (nearly 8 years ago!), I knew he was a Good Guy. He’s friendly, smart, laid back, and the only tears he’s ever forced me to shed have been because I’m laughing so hard I can’t breathe. He loves me. He’s always been supportive of everything I’ve wanted to do- when I wanted to quit my job to focus on my business, he was right there with me, celebrating and cheering me on. I only hope he has felt the same love and support from me along the way.

It’s easy to love a spouse when it’s just the two of you. But things change when you have a kid. Instead of being two individuals who happen to be together, suddenly you are On A Team. For everything from late-night feedings to toddler discipline, you have to be on the same side or things can get ugly quick. Lucky for me, since Day 1, Dan has been an amazing dad- which makes him an even more amazing husband.

But now that I’m pregnant again, I’m realizing even more just how incredible he is. I’ve been sick the past week- pregnancy sick- and it’s kicking my butt. It’s not nearly as bad as some people get- THANK GOODNESS- but it’s enough that it’s making daily life a little rough for me. I hate hate hate not being able to do what I want because I don’t have the energy. I’m absolutely craving sleep. Nothing sounds good to eat so I keep skipping making anything decent for dinner and we just scrape together leftovers or whatever from the fridge. I go through phases of complete exhaustion and intense nausea where all I want to do is lay on the couch and moan, followed by a burst of energy and LET’S GET SOMETHING ACCOMPLISHED, OMG. (unfortunately the energy burst is a lot shorter than the first phase, usually.)

And he’s just rolling with it. He’s taking care of Maggie, taking care of me, getting me water and Tums and pretzels when I ask for them. We all three spent the day at home today- him working, me trying to work and take care of a sick Maggie. And even while he was working, he was still taking care of us.

Then tonight, while he was cleaning up my kitchen for me, Maggie puked on the living room floor. Immediately my sensitive stomach started sending DANGER! DANGER! signals to my brain, and I looked at him in a panic. He took one look at me and rushed over to clean it up while I took Maggie upstairs to get changed. After things were, um, REMOVED FROM THE PREMISES, Maggie and I settled in on the couch while he finished cleaning up the kitchen.

My man, he is the Best. I just hope he’s willing to put up with this for 5+ more weeks. SECOND TRIMESTER, WHERE ARE YOU?

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