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I Am a Complete Failure as a Parent

Wednesday, December 7th, 2005

I started to realize that i am a complete failure as a parent when other parents began to ask me where Rollie was doing a Mommy’s Morning Out program last spring. Um, what? They go to these programs at the age of two??? I proceeded to look into the programs in late February, early March. Turns out they usually do the registrations in January or early February. I totally missed the window. Oops. Guess Rollie is doomed to low test scores and a job at MACDonald’s. . . .

Well, obviously, this last snafu is the straw that breaks the camel’s back.

Call DFACS! I MISSED THE AIRING OF THE RUDOLPH THE RED-NOSED REINDEER SPECIAL!

Why the hell do they air the thing in November? How will Rollie ever learn the meaning of Christmas, without seeing how Rudolph saved it with the help of that wanna-be dentist elf and the Misfit toys?

My Sick Little Girl

Monday, December 5th, 2005

CRAP.

Rollie came down with the cough, runny nose, low-grade fever last weekend. He still has the runny nose. Todd took care of rollie, and I manned Matilda in hopes that we wouldn’t give her his cold, but she started coughing on Sat. I was at my Mom’s in Warner Robins. I just figured it was a cold and kept an eye on her. I decided to come home yesterday morning, and have been keeping an eagle eye on her, esp. for the fever that Rollie had. Well, as of yesterday at 5 pm, no fever, but she was really snotty, and kind of sounded raspy when she breathed, esp when she was bf. At 7:30, she felt warmer to me, so i took her temp again. 100.7. (100.4 is the high normal.)

I called the peds answering service. They called back an hour later and wanted me to take her to the ER. So, off I go to Children’s at 9pm with a sick baby in the pouring down rain. Did I mention that I also have the same nasty cold? fun.

Got to children’s – first of all, they have valet parking, which is pretty cool. It is free. Went inside, and Oh.My.God. it was crowded. It was like a vision of hell, with sick, crying children EVERYWHERE. There were probably 50 or more people, at least, in the waiting room. It looked like an ER episode. I went to the desk and they did my preliminary info, gave me a number, and told me to sit down and they would call me to triage. I barely sat down before they called me back, which scared the crap out of me, that Matilda was bumped up to the front of the line in front of all those sick kids in there.

The triage nurse was really thorough, which i appreciated. They put a little pulse thing on her foot. Then they made me sit down again and again, they immediately took me back to a room. Matilda did her blowout poop about that point. Fun. I forgot an extra outfit, but luckily, it didn’t get on her clothes.

Took her back, and they hooked her up to a pulse machine thingy, that kept on going off and scaring the crap out of me. matilda was crying her guts out at this time, because she was hungry, but they wouldn’t let me feed her till the dr. saw her. I tried to walk her in the little room, but it was a little box, and also, she was attached to the machine thing.

Dr. came in – he looked like an older version of the intern/apprentice character who works at the funeral home on Six Feet Under. He was very nice. Listened to her breathing, etc. He said they wanted to do some tests: urine test, blood labs, and test her mucous for RSV.

he left and this other woman came in. She was some kind of welcoming committee lady, asking if i needed anything. She got me a coffee, which was nice. Nice touch, having someone wait on the parents. I held matilda while watching Larry King, until they came in. There were two of them, so I couldn’t get close enough to hold her while they did their thing, which made me cry more when they did their thing. First, they suctioned her out with the saline solution and the bulby thing. Why they don’t show you the saline method at the hospital, I have no idea, but it works much better than just doing the bulb. She cried her little guts out and had TONS of mucous. Then, they gave her a catheter to get the urine sample. More crying, her and me. Then, they put an iv in her hand/arm and that was it. i felt sooo bad for her. She was doing the really loud crying, interspersed with the lethal “silent scream” cry, which to me is the worst. They took a ton of blood, and then we were done. They said I could feed her, so the nurse got me a pillow and i nursed her. More Larry king. By this time, it was about midnight. I was pooped. She fell asleep.

The results came back: RSV positive. They said that they would give her a breathing treatment and if she responded, they would send an inhaler/chamber thingy home with me. If not, they would have to admit her. That scared the living shit out of me.

I gave her the treatment while she slept in my arms. It took about five minutes of the oxygen/albuterol blowing in her face. Looked like a smoke machine. Rock and roll, matilda. The dr. came in and said she sounded a little better, so he would send me home.

We ended up getting home at 3 am. I put her down at that time, and slept till about 5:30 when she got up and ate. Then todd stayed up with her and I slept for a couple more hours.

We have to call the peds office (still waiting to hear back from them) about how they want to proceed (if they want to see her every day in the office, or just have me report to them, etc.) We have to do the breathing treatments 4xday for 3 days. We did the first one this morning. Boy, she didn’t like it at all. Also, should be interesting, me doing it by myself this afternoon. Todd was here for the morning one. We treat her fever with tylenol, and keep her suctioned out, esp before feedings, so she can eat well. If she has trouble keeping down BM, we can also give her bottles of pedialyte.

She is sleeping right now, and I am so worried about her. I keep checking to make sure she is breathing while she is sleeping, and then when she is awake, the coughing is just heartbreaking to watch.

Please keep my little lady in your thoughts – that her breathing improves, and we don’t have to go back to the hospital.

Lost as Breastfeeding Metaphor

Sunday, December 4th, 2005

Is it just me, or does the idea of having to watch a clock, never stray very far from the hatch, and input the code every two hours before the clock runs out mirror life with a newborn just a little too much?

You Crack Me Up

Saturday, December 3rd, 2005

When you beg and beg to watch “Duh,” (translation: Dora) and I say, “What is the magic word?” And you say, “Peas.” And I say, “Do you want to watch Dora?” And you say, “Okay,” as if it was my idea and you are just humoring me by agreeing to watch it.

A Mile In My Shoes

Friday, December 2nd, 2005

I had no more than 3 hour stretches of sleep for over 4 weeks.
I had a baby chomping on my breasts for . . . well, she is still chomping on my breasts. They are constantly bruised, sensitive, and painful. This does not seem to improve, despite the fact that everyone says it “gets better” and that I have done everything that the breastfeeding experts say to do to correct it.
Even when I do get an evening away, I still have to pump. Trust me, that does not encourage relaxation.
I wake up from between 5:30 am and 8:00 am. I stay all day with them, I spend four hours a day, just with her on the boob. The rest of the time, I am holding her while she cries, or walking her, or rocking her, or cleaning her blowout poops. And at 8:00 pm, the toddler is still awake. She doesn’t fall asleep until 11:00 pm. We’re talking 15 hr days here. Sure people work 15 hr days all the time. But without a weekend break? Every day is the same. The only difference is that I am not alone on the weekends. What if you had to go into the office 7 days a week for 8 weeks straight?

I am not belittling what is done to help me, but there is something about being constantly on call that is exhausting. It is lonely. I wish you wouldn’t judge me until you have walked a mile in my shoes.

It actually really is that hard.

I Am Mother

Thursday, December 1st, 2005

Nothing makes me feel more like a cliche than a pot of water boiling over as I change a poopy diaper while my 2 month old screams her guts out in the background. Unless it is one of those days where you also add that she shat on me earlier in the day, and her big brother the toddler is about to start puking all over me in the kitchen, right before I get dinner on the table.

Happy Feet

Wednesday, November 30th, 2005

Last week, I had the pleasure of leaving Rollie and Matilda with their father for an evening, while I went out to dinner and a movie. I had thai at Ma Li (my fave) with a glass of wine, even. I then drove to the theater, pumped in the car (strange experience – kind of makes you feel like a stalker, sitting in the car and watching couples and college kids go into the theater), and then went to see Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. I wanted to see Walk the Line, but it was too late for this early riser. I made it just in time to see the previews, which I like almost more than the movie itself. I hate to miss the previews.

Since it was Harry, most of the trailers were for similarly-rated movies: Narnia (can not freakin’ wait to see that one!), a Cheaper By the Dozen sequel (did people really watch the first one?), and Aeon Flux (loved it on MTV, but the movie looks bad). Finally, there was some movie about penguins dancing. It was called Happy Feet.

This brings me to the real subject of my post. Just because you are capable, technically and graphically, of making penquins dance, does not necessarily mean that it is a good thing.

The Rings

Tuesday, November 29th, 2005

No, I’m not so mad that I will stop speaking to you forever. I am not so selfish as to cut off my nose to spite my face, and prevent my children from seeing their grandparents, and all over a couple stupid rings. But I am so angry, more angry than I ever remember being. I feel disappointed in your greed. I feel that you betrayed Grandma’s wishes with your silly selfishness and desire to impress other’s with money.

But could you blame me if I did stop talking to you? Dad, how is this any different than you not speaking to your cousin for 15 years over a few household items? You were angry because he didn’t follow your aunt’s spoken wishes. (Make a will, people!) And I am angry for many more reasons. At least your cousin did it blatantly.

Mom, you lied about it. I asked why you weren’t wearing the rings, and I cannot remember what you said, but it definitely wasn’t “Daddy and I traded in your dead grandmother’s wedding band and engagement ring to buy me this huge rock.” What you had told us about your new ring was that you had traded in your wedding band and engagement ring. BIG difference. You say that you had no idea that we would care. If that is true, why would you have bothered to lie or cover it up? We are not stupid. Don’t treat us like we are.

And then, Dad, you go and pull your grandmother’s ring out of the safety deposit box, the one that you had given to Lisa years ago, then promptly taken back to put in the safety deposit box for safekeeping, as if Lisa couldn’t possibly understand the sentimental value you had for an object that belonged to your grandmother. Ponder this, Daddy: How would you have felt if Grandma and Pop had taken your grandmother’s ring and sold it? How would you feel if you never had the opportunity to give it to one of your daughters? Did it ever occur to you that Lisa or I might want to give our grandmother’s ring to one of our children? That in selling that ring, you were taking a family heirloom away from Matilda or her future cousins?

Sure, Lisa and I have other things that belonged to Grandma; You graciously let us divide up all the [worthless, except for sentimental value) costume jewelry that she owned. I have the rings that you gave me when I moved to Denver. The little golden “bow” ring is one of my most cherished possessions, because Grandma always let me wear it. I treasure all of it. But Grandma always said that she wanted Lisa and me to have all of her rings when she was gone. When that time came, you told us that since Mom had worked so hard with taking care of Grandma and Pop, that you “wanted to let her wear grandma’s rings.”

Did you see Lisa and I disagree? No. You know why not? Because you said, “Let her wear,” as in “borrow.” Lisa and I love and respect Mom for all the work she has done with Grandma and Pop, and in no way begrudged her the wearing of Grandma’s rings. Anyway, we knew that they would be ours one day. But if we had known that you were going to sell grandma’s rings? Well, that is a different story. That possibility never even crossed our minds, because it would be such a slap in the face to us and to Grandma. What do you think Grandma would have thought about you selling her rings, instead of giving them to her granddaughters? She would have been really, really pissed off in the Butler way.

You can say that “the rings weren’t worth anything” and “you didn’t know we would even care.” But if they weren’t worth anything, then why let Mom wear the cheap pieces at all? Why trade them in at all? Their sentimental value far outweighs any pricetag you might attach to them.

You might have known that we cared if you had bothered to ask us. Why didn’t you ask us? After all, they were supposed to be ours one day. Grandma said so. We do care. We would liked to have had her wedding rings. Not because they were diamonds. Because they were hers and we loved her and because that is what she wanted.

Dames, Dames

Monday, November 28th, 2005

Seems Rollie likes Dames. “James,” that is. Since when does he get to choose a favorite episode of Thomas the Tank Engine? And why did it have to be the one that we had just deleted from Tivo? And why did the resulting tantrum have to occur right next to Matilda, who had just fallen asleep five minutes before?

Back in Black

Wednesday, November 23rd, 2005

I had my 6 week post-partum checkup yesterday. This basically means that you go in and they ask you how you are doing (I have a newborn. How the fuck do you think I am doing?) and then they check your cervix. My cervix is fine, thanks for asking. This means that I get the okay for two important activities: Exercise and sexual intercourse. Woohoo! Todd is very excited about that second one. Sadly, I am more excited about getting to exercise. (Just kidding, Toddler.)

I started going back to the gym again this morning. I had not been since before having Matilda, and even then, I was just swimming, and not that hard at that. Boy, am I out of shape! It was great to be back, though, and like my friend Steph, Annie on endorphins is a much better human.

The drawback to having a newborn is that she is not able to go to the gym nursery until she is three months old. That means, for me to go to the gym, I have to have Todd watch her. That means, that i have to WORK OUT IN THE EARLY MORNING. [gasp] No, I am not kidding people. I worked out this morning before having coffee. I drove a CAR without having coffee. I spoke to that woman that takes your ID card at the desk, and she spoke back to me, and I did not rip her head off. For those of you that know me, this was a feat of unheard of proportions.

And I survived! I actually, once i got going, enjoyed watching all the morning gym rats, listening to Todd’s IPod workout mix (Isn’t listening to someone’s playlist almost like peering into their private thoughts?), laughing at the thought of my oh-so-tough husband treadmilling it to Back In Black, and making fun in my head of Katie Couric on the Today Show. I came home and got a shower in before 9 am. And best of all? I don’t have to spend the rest of the day worrying about how I am going to have to fit in a shower and a workout during the day.

I feel so accomplished! [Cue Back in Black.]