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Well,  we started day care.

 

For those of you who have lived through this traumatic experience, this statement alone probably either brings back horrible memories or perhaps it brings back nothing – because you’ve blocked out just how bad it was…  on you, your baby and your sanity.

 

We started 3 weeks ago.  And, in 3 weeks, we’ve had a baby with 3 separate illnesses all accompanied by a significant fever.. some of which have lasted 5 days.  Which means that after 3 weeks of day care, we’ve only been IN day care for probably a total of 8 days or so.  Seems like some sort of scam since we pay for 5 days a week… and we continually need to keep him home.  We’ve made approximately 5 visits to the Dr and 1 trip to the emergency room.  If you are wondering… yes, it’s been an incredibly FUN 3 weeks.

 

After the 3rd visit to the doctor, he said to me.  “Oh, you started day care….. you’ll probably spend more time here at our office than you do at work and then you’ll start to wonder why you ever went back to work!”.  Gee, thanks for the reassurance doc!   So I asked, “Well, how long will it be this bad?”  To which he replied, “Oh, he’ll probably be sick for at least a year or so.  BUT, (his attempt at making me feel better as he sees look of utter anguish on my face) once he starts school, you will never need to come here!!!”

 

Wonderful.   A year of a sick toddler.. and an even longer year of a hubby who has to deal with a sick toddler.   It’s gonna be a doozy of a year.

 

Let me tell you a few things that happen when you have a sick baby.

 

#1.  You have a very cranky baby

#2.  You have a very cranky hubby

#3.  You do not get very much sleep

#4.  You have an even crankier hubby

#5.  There’s a lot of fussiness

#6.  You wonder who is fussier, the baby or the hubby

#7.  There’s a lot of crying

#8.  (The baby cries a lot too…..)

#9.  There’s a lot of boogers, and medicine and uncontainable poop

#10. There’s not enough cuddling, or rocking, or singing that can make the baby OR the hubby any less miserable

 

Then, as if all of the above is not bad enough, the Swedes had to go an invent quite possibly the most disgusting device ever known to man.  If you have infants, you may have heard of this device.  We were steadfastly against using it.  It’s just plain gross.  We were hold-outs for many, many months.  We wiped boogers all day long, and bought every imaginable bulb syringe to suck out as much snot as possible and we insisted we’d never, ever subject ourselves to such a revolting, loathsome activity. And then, mini hubby was on his 2nd week of illness and the boogers were taking over.  You could tell he couldn’t breath and he was starting to refuse bottles…..so, we caved and bought (read this in the most ominous voice possible)  The Nose Frida.    If you have no idea what I’m talking about, let me give you a quick lesson.

 

NOSEFRIDA

It’s a wonderfully designed tube that attaches to an elongated nozzle that is placed into the infant’s nose.  The end of the tube is then placed in your mouth…. YES, I did say mouth.  And you use your own breath to literally SUCK boogers out of the baby’s nose….. say it with me….. Eeeeewwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww!

 

It’s perhaps the grossest, most effective, instrument ever created.

 

But here-in lies the problem.  I apparently don’t have the lung capacity to properly dislodge the boogers.  So, in must step hubby, to use his manly lung muscles to remove the maximum amount of boogies…. Trust me.  He LOVES this job.  No lie.  I mean, what person wouldn’t want to suck someone else’s boogers directly into their own mouth?  Ok, so maybe I’m being slightly overdramatic.  There is a filter at the end of the hose so the boogers don’t actually go into your mouth.  And, maybe I was lying slightly, when I said he loves this job.  Cause he FREAKIN’ hates it.  And, ever since day one of booger sucking he’s complained that he’s sucked all the baby’s germs right into his own system and now he feels sick himself.

 

Which is just FANTASTIC… because what more could I want that a sick baby AND a sick hubby —- FOR AN ENTIRE YEAR??????????

(anyone have a gun so I can shoot myself in the head??)

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Some of you may recall that I like to make up silly songs…. HERE is a link to a very old post, if you don’t remember or are a new reader.

 

If you’ve decided not to go back and read that post here’s the gist – I think everyone should have a life filled with song.  I like to sing old commercial jingles.  I like to sing cheesy 70s songs.  I occasionally make up words to traditional music that appropriately matches whatever inane task I am doing.  Hubby has a stick up his a………. ok… maybe that was too harsh……. Hubby is a stick in the mud.   Ok, that’s not actually true at all………….. But hubby does have a distinct response to my behavior that resembles something like eye rolls and sideways glances…………  Yeah, that’s about right.   Hubby doesn’t have “silly” in him.  He has fun.  He has entertaining.  He has amusing.  Delight.  Funny. Witty.  Engaging.  Comical….. you get the picture.  BUT, he doesn’t really do silly.  I think underneath that tough(ish) exterior he enjoys silly (he did marry me after all) but he doesn’t DO silly.

 

So anyway… add a baby to your life and all of a sudden “silly” becomes acceptable.  Maybe even expected.  UNTIL, I apparently take it too far……….

 

Everyone knows the “Wheels on the Bus” song.   And, the beauty of this song it that it’s just so dang easy to change the words.  I have put everything imaginable on the bus.    There have been grandma’s saying “hush”, babies saying “waaaaaah”, mommies saying “I love you” …..all the traditional bus items: doors, windows, wipers, gas, coins and so on….

 

But then one day, I all of a sudden have animals on the bus………… And then, while hubby was listening, I added a chicken……. “bock, bock, bock”.  And he said, from across the room….

 

“Stop That Bus!”

 

“Did you just say there was a chicken on the bus?”

“Uhm, yeah” I replied

And he said, “ What are you teaching him??…. There are not chickens on buses.”

“Well, there is a chicken on MY bus” I said, with all the rigor of a mom being challenged

To which he of course, responds…. “Where is your bus….in India?”

“Maybe.  Or maybe, it’s just down the road, and it’s a bus that happens to have chickens”

 

Humph… he replies..

 

And off I go, continuing to sing…

 

“The lion on the bus says ROAR, ROAR, RO…..”

“Hold on…. There’s a lion on the bus??” he interjects

“Yep, this bus has chickens AND lions.  And you know what, they get along famously…………..”

“There are no lions on the bus.” He declares (a smirk growing on his face……….)

“How do you know what’s on my bus?  If you want to change what’s on the bus, you sing the song………..”

 

Humph… he replies again.

 

And then I continue on my merry way filling the bus with “silliness”…..

 

Now I feel the need to incorporate Daddy into my song, who obviously has no imagination and no ability to sing silly songs (which is ironic given the tall tale he told our neighbors kids about Joe the Cricket Herderbut I digress….)

 

“The Daddy on the bus says…. Get. Me. Off!”

“Hang on” hubby says “Did you listen to what you just said??”

“Yes, the Daddy doesn’t want to be on the FUN bus with all the animals” I reply

And hubby says again…. “No.  Did you actually listen to what you said?”

“Oh, uhm…. Welllllll, that’s not what I meant………..get your mind out of the gutter…………”

“You just put a pedophile on the bus……..”

“Oh good lord.” I say to hubby…. and I look back to the baby (who is happily enjoying my rendition of the song) and say “The people on the bus, they kick Dad off… kick Dad off… kick Dad off…………..”

 

What’s your favorite version of this song???

 

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I hate washing dishes…..

 

Not nearly as much as I hate washing floors, but I do harbor a pretty strong distaste for this particular chore.    And we do have a dishwasher, so it’s not like there are a ton of dishes that need hand washing but, in my opinion, even 1 pan or  1 Tupperware container is too much.    Thankfully most items make their way to the dishwasher (thank god we have one of these or I might be using disposable pot & pans)  But regardless this is a task that I despise…………….

 

Now, if they’d only make an automatic floor mopping device, we’d be in good shape…. But, I digress…………….

 

Anyhow, this particular chore aversion has always been lessened by the fact that hubby doesn’t mind doing this chore.  Now don’t misunderstand, he doesn’t like it, but he does like playing with water (like any child) and he does like to eat – and he DOESN’T like to cook – so, the natural progression was for him to take on the bulk of hand washing dishes, when necessary.  And, they lived happily ever after.

 

UNTIL

 

The baby arrived.

 

As you may know, babies are messy.  There’s more laundry than I ever imagined could come from the addition of one tiny human.   And consequently, there’s a heck of a lot more dirty items in general.  One item in particular is bottles.   It’s amazing how quickly they multiply in our sink, and if you blink too quickly, you may have 6 bottles at the end of the day…. And there they sit; all beckoning, and taunting, and giggling amongst themselves at all they work they have in store for you.

This is only 2 bottles!

This is only 2 bottles!

You see, like any clueless new parents, we wound up with bottles that have like 426 different tiny pieces that all must be assembled, in puzzle like fashion, to come together to prevent excess gas intake, or maybe it’s to improve baby IQ, or perhaps solve global warming.  Ok, I’m not really sure why there are so many dang pieces.  But what I AM sure of, is that cleaning these mother f’ers is a royal pain in my posterior region (and just for the record, these are Dr. Brown’s bottles -and they DO work, even though I’d pay millions of dollars for a full-time bottle washer).     Each tiny, individual, piece must be disassembled, washed, brushed, poked, scrubbed and violated in a way that only long tubular bottle pieces can, to ensure they are clean for our little one.   And, my friends, these puppies can’t go in the dishwasher.  I mean, sure, they can in fact go in the dishwasher but…. once you take them out of the dishwasher, you have to put them back into the sink to clean them.   Cause, with all the contraptions they sell to help make bottles dishwasher-cleanable… the only thing that really works is a bit of elbow grease, some pruny hands and about 4 hours in front of the sink.  Not to mention the day when I tried to wash them in the dishwasher and the bottles all came out with a nice orange-y, reddish hue.  Thank you Mr. Marinara sauce.

 

So, this brings me to the “meat” of my blog post.  What you just read was really just the back story.  And, you were wondering up to this point….. why the heck is she talking so much about baby bottles????  So, stay with me people.

 

As I mentioned earlier, hubby is our in-house dishwasher.  That is of course until the baby arrived – since bottle washing is so daunting – I’ve had to suck it up and wash bottles……… which, in case you were wondering, I still despise!  And, in case you missed it, I will remind you again… washing bottles SUCKS and takes f-o-r-e-v-e-r.   So hubby, in his infinite wisdom, says to me.  “Do ya think you could buy us a kitchen mat to stand on while we wash dishes for 6 hours a day?”  And being the loving wife I am, I respond “Why yes hubby, I certainly can”.  And then off I went to help give us comfy place to stand in front of the sink.    And, if I do say so myself, I found a rockin’ kitchen mat – if you can, in fact, use that sort of terminology to describe a kitchen mat.

"The best thing to ever set foot on!"

“The best thing to ever set foot on!”

This mat is cushy, cozy, comfy and maybe even kick-ass (I was going for another “c” word there – but I ran out of adjectives).  You see, the mat is made of memory foam, and when you stand on it, your feet just melt into it and are nicely cushioned to provide some otherwise not-so-present-comforts, for your tiny toes, while you stand in front of the sink and work your way through your 300th bottle part.  So, this mat sat in place for a day or so before hubby assumed the position to tackle the day’s chore.  And, when he stepped on to the mat, his toes began singing, his lower back started smiling and his mouth started saying….. “holy crap, this is the best thing I’ve ever stood on!!”  And then, in true hubby fashion, he needed to expound on his statement with some of the following:

 

“My feet have never been so happy”

“Why don’t they make shoes out of this material?”

“Every floor, everywhere, should be made of this stuff!”

“This is seriously the best thing I’ve ever felt on my feet!!”

“I’m never moving out of this spot”

 

And finally…. “ We need these mats ALL OVER the house”

 

What he doesn’t realize is that I’d NEVER put that material all over the house…….

I have him right where I want him.  In front of the sink, poised to wash bottles, and never wanting to move.   I’m not nearly as dumb as I look…………………and perhaps, with a little luck,  some incredibly comfy feet, and an equally happy hubby……….. I’ll never have to wash a bottle, ever again!  :-)

 

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