Posts Tagged ‘new baby’

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.



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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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.




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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Well,  as you may have noticed, I’m not doing all that well managing my life AND my new baby.  This blog was like a distant memory of my past life, beckoning to me from a land far, far away.   I’ve missed you dear blog readers and now that I am getting the tiniest bit of sleep, I’m going to try to get back into the swing of things…..  Good Golly, it’s been 7 weeks!


Anywho… it’s been an insane 7 weeks that included 3 trips back to the hospital with our little one…. Very emotionally grueling but I won’t bore you with these details.


Today instead,  I’d like to introduce you to someone new in my life……….NO, it’s not my new little bundle of joy like you might expect, it’s a larger version of my baby.  Someone who many of you have come to know and love.  Someone who I share stories about, who makes us laugh, roll our eyes, and oftentimes, makes us wonder what the heck is wrong with an entire species (MEN!).


Yes….this person is my hubby.


And, I no longer know who the heck he is.  You see, during these past weeks I have a learned a few things:


  1. Hubby does indeed know where the laundry room is.  As evidenced by the multiple loads of laundry he’s done to help me out (YES!  I did say MULTIPLE!)  AND…. He’s folded said laundry too!
  2. He can, in fact, pick up after himself
  3. Hubby does actually know how to empty AND load the dishwasher!
  4. Hubby even knows how to fold washed bedding/sheets (well, minus the fitted sheet – but this is still mind-blowing!)
  5. He can even do some low-grade cleaning!!


Heck, hubby has stepped up in so many ways since the baby arrived I couldn’t begin to write them all out into a list.  Normally I write about how silly he can be (he still is).  Or, how annoying he can be (he still is).  Or, how frustrated I can be with him.  BUT, he’s honestly become a different person to help out while I recovered from the physical and emotional toll the pregnancy and new baby have taken on me.


Now, you’d think I’d be over the moon that he’s been so great, and while at the surface, this is definitely the case.  I ask you one simple question….. where the heck has this guy been for the last nine years?!


In addition to learning that hubby can indeed do all these things I think I learned a far greater lesson:  Apparently I don’t know hubby at all…..

Or perhaps he’s just mastered the art of “training” me to not expect too much from him (sly guy that he is!)  Well, guess what hubby….. I’m onto you now!


Either that, or I maybe I should have had a baby 9 years ago!!  (ahhhhh……hindsight…………..)

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You might think that the threat of a new baby rapidly approaching would keenly re-prioritize for my hubby.   But alas, if you’ve been reading for any length of time, you probably know that nothing is on hubby’s radar that’s not important (read that as electronics – and apparently baby monitors and breast pumps don’t count!)


So, it’s probably no surprise that the new furniture we purchased for the baby’s room has been sitting, in boxes, in my living room for probably over 6 weeks.  It causes me anxiety Every. Single. Time. I walk past it.  My OCD (see hubby, I can admit I have a bit of OCD) screams at me when stuff is not where it belongs… it’s why hubby’s empty soda cans, invisible boxes, and crap on the stairs drive me bonkers!


Every day, when I come home I politely remind hubby of his timeline…


“Hon, a little over 3 months left”

“Hon, less than 3 months left”

“Hon, only 2 months left…”


And every day, hubby employs selective listening to tune me out and his selective vision kicks into high gear as he uses all his special powers to pretend he doesn’t seen the boxes… which equal 5 in total.  One is approximately 4 ft tall and another is probably 5 ft long.  (UHM, I don’t know, kind of hard to ignore – but I guess that’s just me……….)


His logic has been that we need to remove all the stuff from what will become the baby’s room, before he can move the boxes.


Problem #1:  This is HIS job…. I cannot carry the boxes, nor can I remove the existing furniture.


He also wants to paint the room before we put the new furniture in (makes sense but……………..)


Problem #2:  This is HIS job…. I cannot paint in my current state.


So, under normal circumstances, where I could easily become exasperated and do the work myself, I cannot do anything myself.   So, I’m at his mercy, and on his timeline, if I want to have this done.   UGH!


******* UPDATE *******


I wrote much of this post last week…. And didn’t have time to get it uploaded until today because my hard drive crashed (back up your stuff people – don’t be me and lose everything!!).   And, here’s a crazy news flash.   I expected to be able to take pictures of the HUGE boxes to illustrate the absurdity of my life but HOLY CRAP, they are gone.   It’s like I put it out into the blogosphere and magical things happened.  They actually made their way to the baby’s room.   The crib is assembled and everything is where it belongs……………HOORAY!


Here’s the catch.


Now that all the furniture is in the baby’s room, hubby is now questioning the need to paint the room….. “I kinda like the color it is right now”  he says.  Which he quickly follows up with  “But, if you still want it painted, I’ll be happy to do it”.  What sort of ploy is this???   Another 6 week delay and the baby will likely be in the room…. And then, no painting can occur… very sly hubby, very sly…………………..

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Well, I’m 1/2 way to having a mini hubby around the house… we have confirmed our new baby will be a boy (Lord help me!).  And, as you can probably imagine, my actual hubby is thrilled to have a young impressionable little boy to mold into a 2nd version of himself.  I’ve mentioned before that I’m already surrounded by alternate versions of my hubby with both his father (here’s an example) and his brother (here & here are examples).. each seem to exhibit many of the same qualities.  And yes, his mother and I do our share of commiserating!


So here I am wondering how I can stop the madness and ensure my cute, innocent, little munchkin learns to put things away and to help with chores and to… well… uhmmm… just not be hubby (or at least the annoying version of hubby… he can totally be the part of hubby that I love…)  I have long term visions, WAY down the road, of commiserating with my own poor daughter-in-law about my son’s inability to wipe up crumbs and toss his dirty clothes into the appropriate basket… long into adulthood.


So what’s a gal to do?

Well, I’ve started by vetoing just about every insane baby idea hubby comes up with like:


Making the NURSERY into an outer space room with aliens –  yes, this is a REAL idea.

I’ve tried to explain to hubby that the baby comes out as an INFANT, not a little boy (I’m not completely sure he understands this). And that a black ceiling with glowing stars and alien spaceships doesn’t really feel very baby-like.  And, could quite simply ensure that the little boy is scared of his own room and moves permanently into our bed.  I’ve told him that by age 5 or 6 he can discuss this idea with our son and if he chooses to have an alien outer space room, we can redecorate.


Buying a bigger dog crate that can fit both our dog AND our baby….. so “the dog can babysit”

Ok, hopefully this isn’t a real idea, but with hubby….. how can anybody know for sure??


Having the whole family live on baby food (since he doesn’t want to cook)

There will undoubtedly be days when I have to work late or entertain clients, where hubby will need to be the care giver for dinner.  So, he’s basically already declared that he, himself would happily eat baby food with our new child rather than (god forbid) cook something.


Starting poker training early… let’s say at 5 years old (No, I didn’t mean “potty training”… POKER training, as in a full house beats a straight…..)

Since we have a poker man cave, hubby has already said it will be important for our son to “be adept at playing at an early age… so he can beat all his friends in a poker game” (That’s ever-so-important at elementary school).   Yeah, just what I need, a note home from the 2nd grade teacher:  “We caught mini-hubby in a heated poker game at recess today.  He had accumulated a couple of PS3 games, 2 peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, and a little girls hair band before we stumbled on him.  Please address this ASAP”


As you can see….. I’m probably in over my head.


I can only hope that our little one has some of my qualities too and that maybe some day, he can start The Daddy Diaries and you can hear all about hubby from his point of view!!!!!


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