Archive for the ‘baby’ Category

are there doldrums in winter?

Monday, February 18th, 2008

I think the season is really getting to me. I’m so utterly bummed out all the time.

The baby’s situation with his lungs/sinuses is really getting me down. What’s especially frustrating is the fact that we haven’t been able to get in to see his regular doctor so we’ve been seeing this other doctor in the practice and I think he may be a quack. He keeps insisting that the baby has asthma and I just don’t buy that. And last week the baby licked his lower lip a whole bunch and made the skin raw, but the doctor tried to say that it was compulsive, even though it was an isolated incident. I’m starting to sense a drug-pushin’ vibe, but I do watch things like Frontline a lot.

It’s just so frustrating that he was doing so well on the medicine and then like two days after he was done taking it the cough and mucus came back.

And if he does have asthma, what the hell? I keep reading about how our germaphobia is contributing to the rise of allergies and asthma in children and I purposely let him be “dirty” (I’m also lazy and that seemed to help) so that he could build up his immunities and everything. I don’t make him wash his hands every five seconds and I don’t carry hand sanitizer with me everywhere. Now he has allergies and maybe asthma, as well? Augh.

I don’t know. Like I said, I’m extremely bummed out all the time and I don’t want to do ANYTHING. I don’t want to work or go to school or parent or wife. I just want to drink and watch videos all day. I guess that’s not such a healthy attitude is it?

strawberry jam, elderberry jam, toe jam, monster jam…

Monday, February 18th, 2008

Guess what I did on Friday? It involved wheels and lots of testosterone and patriotism. Indeed, I went to Monster Jam with the husband, the baby, and the sister-in-law.

It was…alright. Certainly, the most interesting part of the evening was the prelude, in which the announcer came out and started paying tribute to all of the firefighters and policemen and “the troops in Iraq who are fighting for our right to be here at Monster Jam tonight.” No, seriously. He said that. That’s why we’re over there. Monster trucks. Now, I’m a cynical bizatch but if I was a soldier and someone told me that I was fighting for a bunch of jackasses to go see monster trucks, I would probably kill a whole bunch of people. Or myself. Of course, they then brought out an enormous flag for the national anthem.

(more…)

3 p.m., Sunday afternoon

Sunday, February 10th, 2008

The baby is hanging upside down from an armchair.

“Mum, it seems like…I’m standing on the ceiling and the ceiling is the floor and the floor is the ceiling, and you’re sitting on the ceiling…floor. Upside down. And I’m…ceiling. Doesn’t it?”

“Are you high?”

“Yes.”

pain in the ash

Friday, February 8th, 2008

The mother-in-law picked the baby up from school on Wednesday, and when we got to her house to pick him up, I noticed a smudge on his forehead. The mother-in-law had indeed taken him to Ash Wednesday services and had indeed asked the priest to “bless” the baby and, according to her, he just happened to bless him with his ash thumb.

Now, she’s pulled this subversive Catholicisim stuff before and I don’t appreciate it. Because while I’m not against the baby practicing some sort of religion, I really don’t want anyone besides me or the husband dishing it out with him. I don’t want him getting the idea that Catholicism, or any religion, is superior to any other, which is what I’m pretty sure will happen if I put his religious education in the hands of the mother-in-law. I say that because when we griped at her for the ashes, she snotted that it’s not like they were off doing witchcraft or weird rituals.

And, like…ugh. Dude. Just because you grew up with them and you happen to live in a country where Catholicism is mainstream, doesn’t mean that you’re not doing rituals and that they wouldn’t be perceived as weird to other cultures. I mean, doesn’t one of the main rituals involve eating the body and blood of Christ? Plus there’s chanting and incense and bells and dudes in robes. Shit. Put that outside on a solstice and add some topless bitches. THEN tell me how it’s not like witchcraft.

Anyway, Bolt asked the mother-in-law about this and the mother-in-law told her what she also told us, which is that we all used to go to church and loved it. And we should be repentant for our sins. God, back off lady. And then she added that when we discovered this thing called independent thought, we would surely return to the church.

Quoi? I mean, not to say that all practicing Catholics or whatever are devoid of independent thought, but, uh, my independent thought is what led me to peace out from the church quite some time ago.

But, seriously, if I’m doing my thing and being a good person and Catholics are doing their thing and being good people, can’t we all just get along leave each other the hell alone?

Anyway, I was thinking about the upcoming presidential election yesterday. I don’t know, it seems to be the hip, in thing to do these days. Also, this piece on Jezebel got me thinking, because I do think it’s bullshit that women’s tendency to cry more than men is perceived as a sign of weakness. I think it was Wanda Sykes who said that God made women the weaker sex because otherwise we would just go around beating the shit out of people.

I mean, I cry when I’m sad or devastated obviously, but I also cry when I’m angry and it’s so annoying. I wish I could stop because I think it gives the objects of my anger an opportunity to be like, “Oh, whatever, she’s not THAT angry.” And it’s like, “No, I AM, motherfucker. I just can’t box for shit and I’m furious and everything’s starting to, like, SEEP or something. Here, why don’t you just choke yourself with my hand and we’ll call it even. Cool?.”

But, yeah, the presidential election. Folks are grasping onto the two times that Hilary has managed to hint at crying and prove that this is why a woman can’t handle being president. Fuck that. Hilary is just as self-serving and psychotically ambitious and centrist-serving as any other person that makes a serious run for president…which is what makes her campaign and Obama’s campaign such a drag. I got to thinking about how I cry often about the state of the world. I mean, it just fucking bums me out, you know? I can’t imagine if I was the president and had access to ALL of the information of just how fucked we are…I would be splattered on the sidewalk outside of a tall building about 15 minutes into my administration.

operaboy

Wednesday, February 6th, 2008

The past few mornings, the baby has accompanied our routine by singing everything in this virbrato, operatic voice. Sometimes he counts to 100 in this voice or sings the ABCs, he often answers questions or commands in this manner.

“The baby, go put your shoes on.”
“OkaAaAaAaAyYaYyaY!”
“The baby, did you take your vitamin?”
“YeEeEeEeEeEsssss!”

I am always happy to provide the responsorial chorus of “Would you fuc–…just STOP! Talk normal!”

But we got his report card yesterday and he’s doing really well in school. The only sub-par marks were for listening and paying attention. No big surprise there.

I don’t have much else to report. My hair has insane frizz today. I want to shave it off.

mornin’

Friday, February 1st, 2008

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It’s mad frozen here.

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The baby has a two-hour delay and when we walked outside this morning to take me to school, the husband gave a hearty, “Aw, hell naw.” So, we’re chilling in the house for a little bit. I am out of coffee. Go ahead and ask me how excited I am about that.

I’m not real sure when the school bus is supposed to get here. When there was a delay on Wednesday, the bus came at 9:30, but who knows because the driver’s kinda…I don’t know. I think he wants to fight me. Which is fine. We can throw down whenever, dude.

Anyway, check out my kid doing his breathing treatment.

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Cute, no? Thankfully, the cough and congestion and the runny nose finally seem to be going away. As an added bonus, the prednisone gave him an actual appetite. He’s eating like a normal human being now and not like…Amy Winehouse.

phlegm

Tuesday, January 29th, 2008

The baby is at the doctor with the mother-in-law to find out what the deal is with this cough that he’s had forever. They’re guessing bronchitis and gave him a breathing treatment and some Prednisone. Poor kid. I talked to him for a second on the phone and he told me, “Prednisone tastes nasty.” I promised him some candy.

I talked to my dad for awhile last night and re-realized something I’ve known for awhile: my family is batshit insane.

in which my 6-year-old pwns me

Monday, January 28th, 2008

On our way home from a rather, “I’m gonna be THAT kid in Wal-Mart*,” trip to Wal-Mart:

The Baby: Mum’s superhero name is WeirdGirl
The Husband: Oh, yeah? What is Mum’s super power?
The Baby: Um, her powers are throwing up, fainting, and throwing herself in the river.
The Husband: Oh, yeah?
Mum: Whatever, man.

Like, seriously? Those are my super powers? I give birth to the kid, nourish him with my own body, and I get the super powers of a Harlequin romance character via Virginia Woolf?

*grabbing stuff on the shelves, yelling, and of course the non-stop talking

burp

Friday, January 25th, 2008

Dang. Belly is full. I made Apricot-Stuffed Pork for dinner. One fatal flaw of this recipe as it is: roasting the potatoes and brussels sprouts for 15 minutes before plopping the pork in the middle for 30 minutes results in burnt potatoes and brussels sprouts. At least that was my experience. I also tend to blame my culinary fuck-ups on my electric oven/stove.

I also need to clean my oven. Dig if you will, the picture of me frantically flapping my oven mitt at the billow of smoke while trying to get the fucking ceiling fan on and shouting, “Everything’s fine! Really!”

I rock at all things domestic.

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Portrait: Mum, Post-Barfing Weekend

Sunday, January 20th, 2008

Photo 29

I can has fresh air now plz?

So, the baby and I held a vigil on the couch until 6:30 in the morning with a few more barfing episodes before finally moving to bed. He mostly slept. I stayed up and watched American Psycho (until I noticed that the baby was watching and didn’t think that would help with his upset stomach or his, uh, developing morality but ooooohhhh Christian Bale) and Apollo 13. He woke up for the day at 9ish. I stumbled downstairs and managed to put a movie on before passing out.

And that’s pretty much how it went for the most part. He ate about three crumbs of toast and a few sips of chicken broth but that was about it. I kept napping. Did some reading for class and that didn’t do much to keep me awake. Tried to launder all of the barfed-on items.

The couch still smells slightly. I febrezed it and I’m really hoping there are no hidden chunks since they’ll be hard to spot on that pattern (see photo). Actually, it’s kind of surprising that all of those stripes and blocks and specks don’t make us spew constantly.

And I’m so tired. And the Patriots won. Boo.