Archives for March 2014

The time I glued my thumbs together

I’m not sure whether to blame this occurrence on sleep deprivation or stupidity. It can really go either way.

The other night, I decided I was going to apply some fake nails I found in a drawer. I usually go to a nail salon, so I wasn’t exactly sure what I was doing. Obviously.

I opened the container of super glue and squirted a large glob on my thumbnail. I stuck the nail on. I pressed down on the top of the nail with my index finger and stuck my other thumb underneath the thumb getting a nail applied and pressed down. And thats when it happened. That’s when I glued myself…to myself.

I successfully superglued my thumbs together.

I didn’t panic. At first. I new that I could soak my thumbs in some acetone and fix the problem. So, then, I set out to find said acetone.

I had to search around a bit before I found it in a box under the coffee table. Then I had to search for a shallow bowl in the kitchen. This was a rather awkward search, mind you, while one’s thumbs are fuzed together.

After I had obtained the acetone and selected a bowl of my desired shape and size, I attempted to open the bottle of acetone. Do you know how hard it is to screw the lid off a bottle when your thumbs are superglued together???

I had to nuzzle the bottle between my neck and shoulder and unscrew the darn thing with my teeth, that’s how.

Then I poured the acetone into a bowl and soaked. After about 10 minutes of nothing happening, I started to panic a bit. WAS I JUST GOING TO HAVE TO LEARN TO LIVE LIKE THIS?

After another 5 minutes, things were looking a bit brighter, and another 5 minutes after that…FREEDOM.

I now have a pathetic, melted looking press on nail on my thumb and obviously, no other press ons applied because…HELL NO.

 

 

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Foxy in the jungle

All I really talk about lately is my kids, but since they’re the humans I’m around the most every day, I can’t really help it. So here is another story about my kids, or, well, one of my kids.

Last year my mom had to put one of her dogs to sleep. It was this pomeranian named Foxy. Bella was 3 at the time but she still talks about Foxy pretty regularly. After Foxy was put down, my parents buried her out in the woods near their house in this creepy pet cemetery that we have. There’s this little trail that leads to it and they all have little headstones.

Anyway, Bella was present for the burial and she brings it up on occasion

A few weeks ago, Bella was talking about how she wanted to go to Disney World and who all she wanted to come along on the trip. In addition to her father and I she listed her grandparents, her aunt, her great grandmother, our cat, and all my mom’s animals, including Foxy. I asked her if she remembered Foxy and she said, “Yes, Foxy is sleeping out in the jungle.” The jungle is what she calls the woods.

Today Bella brought Foxy up again when she was listing who she wanted to invite to her birthday party. Without me even asking, she said, “Foxy is out there in the jungle under that dirt, why is she out there? Why is she under the dirt?”

Me: “Ummm…she’s out there under the dirt because we buried her.”

Bella: “Why?”

Me: “Because she went to a better place.”

Bella: “No she didn’t. She’s dead.”

Me: “…Yes. You’re right. Yes, she is.”

Bella: “She’s still invited to my birthday party.”

I probably should have tried to explain at that point that one can’t come back from dead unless they’re a zombie, but I think I’m going to save that conversation for a later time.

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Sleep deprivation

 

Oh, sleep deprivation. I knew you were coming when I brought baby number 2 into the world. I remember you from the first time around. Even so, I didn’t quite remember HOW HORRIBLE YOU ACTUALLY ARE.

I keep trying to put the milk in the dry storage.

I’m mixing up my words.

I’m watching television and rewinding constantly because I keep zoning out and missing things, “What just happened? What did they say?”

The other day I asked my husband if he had used the new stroller yet WHILE WE WERE OUT USING THE STROLLER.

I keep misplacing things. The other day, Lottie’s birth announcements arrived and I immediately lost them. I found them 2 days later, shoved between the pages of a random book on the shelf.

I also lost Bella’s birthday party invitations for a few days. I found them in the chest where we keep the bed sheets.

To date though, the worst thing that has happened is this:

Lottie doesn’t sleep in bed with us. She is in our room, but next to the bed in a Pack and Play. When she wakes up, we take her out and she comes into the bed to eat, but when she falls back asleep, we move her back to the Pack and Play. While she’s eating, I’m usually playing a game on my iPad. Anyway, one particular evening she woke up at, oh, I don’t know what time, it all runs together. I got her out, fed her, played a little Hay Day, she fell asleep, I moved her back to the Pack and Play, and then I went back to sleep.

Well, the iPad fell out of the bed at some point and hit the hard wood floor with a loud WHAP and I sat straight up in bed SCREAMING BLOODY MURDER, successfully freaking out my husband. I have never in my life heard myself scream the way I did in that moment.

It was definitely my sleep deprivation causing me to be completely confused about where the baby was. All I could remember was her waking up and me bringing her into the bed. I didn’t remember putting her back in the Pack and Play, even though I had. When I heard that WHAP, I was convinced the baby had hit the floor. Once I realized she wasn’t in our bed at all and was sleeping safely and soundly, I started weeping. It was totally terrifying.

Long story short, you won’t find us co-sleeping any time soon. I don’t have a problem with it and I know there are safe ways to do it, I just don’t think I will ever be able to shake the terror I felt in that 30 seconds.

All that said, I’m going to bed now. I’ve already stayed up too late and the baby will be up in an hour.

Wheeeeee!

 

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I get mad at inanimate objects

I’ve always kind of had this problem. I get mad an inanimate objects when they injure me. I’m a blame placer. What I mean by this is that if I slam my finger in a car door, it’s likely I’ll kick the car and yell at it. Nevermind that I was the slammer of the car door. It’s the car’s fault for sure. No question.

It seems that I have passed this problem on to my child. The other day she was repeatedly kicking a trash can because she said it hit her. The other day she was running and ran into a table and started yelling at it, “WHY YOU DO THAT, TABLE? WHY YOU DO THAT TO ME?”

I’m pretty sure it’s just going to get worse from here. Tempers and borderline anger management issues? Oh we have them.

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Mother of two.

Week 4 of being a parent of two:

I’m already mixing up their names. So, I’ve just started calling them the Big One and the Little One.

When one isn’t needing me, the other one is. When I get a rare moment when one of them isn’t needing me, I’m either doing laundry, washing bottles, emptying the trash, or doing some other household chore.

I’ve learned not to tell the Big One that I can’t do something because the Little One is needing me. It makes her jealous and angry.

Actually, it doesn’t matter that I’m not telling the Big One that I can’t do something right that very second because I’m busy with the Little One. She’s knows no matter what and is now using it to her advantage. The other morning I was trying to dress, feed, and console the Little One and the Big One was like “Can I have mini marshmallows and potato chips for breakfast?” I came THISCLOSE to saying yes.

Taking two children out to run errands is TERRIBLE. Especially right now. Does it get better? I don’t know. I sure hope so. Do you know what grocery shopping is like? I put the infant carrier in the cart and Bella in the child’s seat. Where, I ask you, do the groceries go? I have to pack them around the infant carrier which means I can get like, 3 items. Or, I can make Bella get out of the child’s seat so I can put items in the seat. Then I have to worry about her wandering off or touching ABSOLUTELY EVERYTHING SHE PASSES. But you know what? I can’t get her out of the kid’s seat because then she’s jealous that the baby gets to ride in the cart and she doesn’t. A month ago I didn’t have this problem. She used to scream when I tried to make her ride in the cart, she wanted to walk like a “big girl”.

Pee, poo, spit up. Repeat repeat repeat.

Sleep? HAHAHAHA.

Seriously, I miss sleep. Remember that whole “Sleep when the baby sleeps” thing? You know what that is? Crap. First of all, it was crap the first time around because if I had actually slept every time the baby slept, my house would have been disaster and I wouldn’t have paid any of my bills. But at least SOMETIMES I was able to sleep when the baby slept. This time? Pssssh. No. When the baby sleeps, I’m playing Jake and the Neverland Pirates with my 4 year old. Or fixing her lunch. Or teaching her to write her name. Or parking her in front of the tv for a few minutes so I can take a shower. THAT is what I am doing when the baby sleeps.

All of that said, I have never felt more complete and happy as a human being. I love my days with my girls. I love sweet baby snuggles that I need to soak up every moment of because I know all too well how fast they grow and how fleeting these moments are. I love how proud Bella is of her baby sister. I love that when she comes home from preschool she says, “Where’s my baby? How’s my baby?” She might be jealous sometimes, but what 4 year old wouldn’t be? She also loves that baby.

Some mornings, all 4 of us, plus the cat, end up in bed together. It’s cramped. It’s hot. It’s…kinda miserable, actually. But it’s also lovely and amazing.

It’s hard. It’s draining. It’s completely monotonous.

But it’s also totally worth it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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