Tiny Chair in for BIG Surprise

Perhaps it was envisioning the rage. Maybe it was thinking about a big lady on a tiny chair. It could have been the space I know she cleared away in the living room in order to make room for such a "good deal" on such a cute and cozy looking chair with an ottoman, no less! Regardless, while I was perusing the Target site looking for Christmas list ideas for Jake, I couldn't help but ALMOST pee my pants when I came across this review. I WONDERED why it had such a low rating- but this review really takes the cake. I think someone needs to learn to laugh at themselves, no?

PS. When clicking on the link- be sure to click 2 reviews next to the starred rating in the upper right hand corner.

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Shockingly, I am surprisingly okay with the commitment of having a baby. I miss Lauren Conrad more than I miss my night's out.
Perhaps this is just becuase I was ready for this phase of life.
I have often even found that having a baby is an incredible escape excuse. No one questions the choice to "stay in" because the "baby isn't feeling that great" or whatever other BS excuse I can so easily blame on my 14 pound, speechless, bundle of love.
My husband and I have been incredibly and increasingly anti-social over the last couple of years. The infant just catapults us into a completely new realm of staying in. However the baby allows us to no longer feel the need to "go" just because if we didn't it would be rude. Rudeness is practically a way of life at this point. Sorry Emily Post- it's just the way it is. Guilt free "no's" to every R.S.V. and P.
Don't get me wrong- it's great to see a lunch in my schedule once in a while. An evening dinner with just the girls. A morning spent pampering my under-pampered self. But I really don't miss the commitments to bars and parties that require us to wear anything aside from sweatpants after 4 PM on the weekends.
On the flip side- I am seriously considering piling up the debt just to have DVR access- which has suddenly turned into an almost necessity... ALMOST. TV has become extremely important as of late. I have actually even considered writing letters to the networks... to "voice my thoughts" on this or that ( I cannot believe the filth on cable before 7 PM or that SOME shows make me pay a DOLLAR just to catch up on a little half hour comedy ! BUt thanks Bravo for finally getting Hosewives On Demand... sheesh! It's taken long enough! ). I know... big time stuff here. Hard to grasp, isn't it?
So today- another day spent in the 1000 square feet of comfort that has become so part of me that I don't even see the dust.

Scared

When people told me to make the baby sleep on his back, use ONLY sleepers and above all else, put NO TOYS or bumpers in the crib. I listened. I listened because I am a new Mom and I didn't want to make a drastic mistake. Over the last week, as we leave month three happily behind us ( gimme me a break, I had a rought start ) and enter month four ( thank you God of rice cereal ), we have made the swing a part of Jake's past and introduced him to his new one and only sleeping spot. His crib.
It's been fairly easy, as the timing seemed right. Well, that, and since he was teething he was on some doses of Tylenol so once that kicked he didn't give a rat's patootie WHERE he was sleeping.
In order to smooth his transition into his "big boy bed", I allowed him one eensy teensy tiny itty bitty allowance. His eight inch by eight inch square binky. Silky on one side and fuzzy wuzzy soft on the other. He loves the thing and it helps him fall instantly to sleep once the cool, shiny silk is placed lovingly against his cheek. How can a mom say no?
Last night, while home alone, I put him down for a late afternoon nap. Binky and all. Suddenly I heard his guttaral screams and at first, figured he was spoiled and his pacifier fell out... again. But then something about that cry made me run like the wind towards his room. I flung the lights on and the poor little guy had gotten his binky somehow stuck across his face. The more he tried to breathe in, the more stuck he felt. Since he was screaming, I knew he was okay, but when I leaned in to pick him up, he went limp in my arms and immediately snuggled his head on my chest. It took him a good twenty mintues to calm down and breathe at his normal rate. It took me at least twenty four hours. Well, actually, I don't think I am over it yet. I don't think I will ever be "over" it.
Tonight, he went to sleep withOUT his special binky. I actually want to throw the darn thing away, but figure he will grow into it.
Now that my first scare is over, I feel more like a mom than ever. As I buttoned my big-sized pants around my rounded middle this morning, I thought how lucky I was that I heard him. How lucky I am to even be graced with his life. How quickly things can go wrong. How horrid it would be. I am a humbler Mom today.

Oink Oink

As new parents of our three and a half month old, we have been really missing out on some quality time together as a couple. We anticipated our weekend visit to the babysitters, I mean Grandma's house, with enthusiasm. Despite the extra hour in the car due to stormy, potentially hydroplaning weather in our two-wheel drive car, we made it. Albeit exhausted and excitement slightly waning.
Generally, an eight o'clock PM arrival would signal a trip straight to the fridge for a nice tall cold one, while Grandma took over all baby duties. HOWEVER, I wasn't feeling it. Really, just wasn't in the mood. And after catching up with everyone for a little bit, admitted that my shortness of temperament suggested I needed to hit the sack. I figured I could get rested up and perhaps hit the town with the hubby tomorrow night.
When I woke up in the morning... I knew something wasn't right. The deep congested cough sounded like a dying cow, and my bones ached to their core. Of course, this didn't stop me from a trip to Walmart to pick up some essentials. Or a visit to Farm and Fleet, wherein I proceeded to peruse the baby clothes and toys while my husband scoured the rest of the store, checking out bullets and tire gauges and deer blinds and wrenches.
By the time we got back home, a mere hour and a half later, and as the much detested Swine Flu set in, sorry piggies, I mean H1N1, I needed to lay on the couch. As day turned into night, I realized our night on the town would need to be toned down bit. More like a night on the couch. With Tylenol and jammies. Sadly, I stared at my husband through fevery eyes as he tried to keep up his spirits by cracking open a few cold ones by himself with me laying there and Grandma holding the baby. Probably wasn't what he had in mind for a date night. To top it all off, seemed like the baby was getting his very own dose of the piggy flu, too.
Saturday was even worse, with nothing signifying it was anything but another lame day. Couch. TV. Feed the sick baby. Stuff the sick Mommy with Tylenol. Sleep.
Sunday we packed up, fevers and all and headed back home. Stuck in traffic. Not feeling good. Unable to sleep. Once we got in the door, we spend the better part of Sunday doing the same things as Saturday. Canned soup for dinner. Amazing Race. Early EARLY bed.
So the weekend we had so looked forward to was a bit of a bust.
However, today, I am feeling MUCH better. The baby is in sleep mode. Tomorrow we will be back to the grind like any other day.
The baby's first "sickness" was not what I anticipated. Easier than I thought it would be to manage. Not as scary as I worried about. I am thankful it is behind us and didn't get worse than it could have.
I feel bad I didn't get to spend time with my husband, which we are in dire need of. We have scheduled a babysitter ( thankssoveryverymuch Jen ) for next Sunday. Hopefully My One and Only will not also fall sick... leaving THAT a bust as well.
As for the Swine Flu... I find it a bit emabarassing... say like a case of lice or something. Dirty. Nasty. Piggy-like. When I texted my co-worker this morning she repsonded with an "oink oink". Maybe the name of it doesn't garner the kind of sympathy a more scary sounding illness gets, like say strep throat, or bronchitis.
Either way, all is getting back to normal and I again can look forward to a date with my man.

Realistic Women

You know your life is getting pretty darn small when you almost wet yourself with excitement when you see the new US Weekly laying in your mail pile. Really. I almost wet myself and especially when I have forgotten that it's coming and it surprises me, like a wet lick from a puppy.
You can pretty much bet that the 24 hours following it's arrival will leave me unattentive to pretty much anything anyone has to say... that is unless you have a comment or insight into an article I am reading. My current favorite topic, aside from Lady Gaga's lazy eye, ( please tell me you know what I am talking about? ) is Tory Spelling's eating disorder, I mean, "stomach issues". Becuase we all know that when you drop down to 98 pounds and your upper thighs are thinnner than your knee caps and you get a bad case of the runs you are fine... just need a little imodium is all. Or some LUNCH. But whatever, I actually like her and wish her well.
Anyway, while poring over the photos of the who's who in Hollywood, I must admit that on certain days I find myself wistfully thinking how much I would like to be that rich/that thin/that well dressed/well groomed, etc. And then I take a cold shower, cram my fat butt into some cozy sweat pants, spackle my porous face with expensive make up and I am suddenly brought back to my reality.
But I really do catch myself sometimes, wishing wistfully and all. So it's with great pleasure when I come across some great news... like this German mag, Brigitte. Three cheers for realistic women.

Motherhood... So Far Anyway

With so much time spent at work, and all my evening time spent catching up with the baby and the husband, I am finding that having time to write a blog, let alone a thank-you note, is getting away from me. But today, as the dust sits collecting in little piles, the laundry basket has well overflowed, and the bed goes unmade for the umpteenth day in a row, I find myself sitting here instead of catering to my chores. Wanting to get my thoughts written down while I was still thinking them.
And that's when it hit me. I am not really having any thoughts, lately, other than should we wake him? Should we put him down? Should we put rice in the bottle? Should we put on more/less blankets? Should we put him inside/outside/upside-down? Basic thoughts. Caring thoughts. Easy thoughts. Thoughts that are not only a great break from the norm, but are also a welcome excuse to avoid more taxing, unpleasant thoughts, like paying bills or what to make for dinner. Like should we make a will and how can we get out of this condo?
That is what, to me anyway, is so beautiful about Motherhood. How I can do so little to soothe him. Make him giggle. Provide him comfort and be his everything, that while certainly time consuming, is so... simple.
And as much as I want to see him grow up and crawl and walk and talk, I want to remember what this time was like, too. Because when he becomes a mouthy, independent adolescent, I want to have a vivid memory of being in love with him. And other stuff, but really, I want to remember what it was like to be so needed, and how fufilling that is.
So no, I don't really have anything interesting to say outside of how lucky I am to finally get the chance to be a Mom. Of how much I like it. Of how things have realligned themselves and I have never been happier. But who wants to hear about that?
He will. Maybe that's the point.

Calling Me Crazy

SOMEone stole the little white pumpkin. SOMEone threw rocks at my window. SOMEone threw mud balls at the bricks. Then I had a baby. And when SOMEone threw more rocks, eggs, and water balloons at my windows, I got mad.
Because there is a baby in the house and I am one protective Mama. And thoughts of the glass cracking and letting in all the hot air or cold air or the elements come into my house... my BABY'S house...and possibly inhibit his comfort? Well... now... I don't THINK so.
So we started calling the cops. Yep. 911. Well, not exactly. We called the local non-emergency line. And then they would transfer us to the police. We would and well, DO, wait patiently on the patio for them to show up. And because of our property taxes and the town we live in, they did. Show up, that is.
The first few times, we were... uncomfortable. I mean, it's highly UNlikely that any REAL harm will result from any INTENTIONAL crimes here. Junior High pranks at best. I know.
But try mixing a protective Mama, a TIRED Mama, and a wife who FINALLy got to sit down to a nice candlelight dinner of homemade burgers and a Caprese salad with her husband for the first time in months, and have a laser beam shining into her face shortly after hearing some kids say... "This one.. this one.. THIS is the one".
That is where THIS woman throws her fork down already. Because quite honestly? It was at THAT moment that I knew. I knew that for whatever reason we were the neighborhood "target", and I was DONE DONE DONE.
And while we had been reporting the last FEW transgressions, the officers seemed to care little to none, and we assumed our efforts were an effort in futility.
However, this police officer was very nice. I started off with my usual description, a white kid, a black kid, an asian kid and an hispanic kid. His response? Sounds like the beginning of a bad joke. I knew right away that THIS Officer might be the first to "crack the case".
His phone call within the hour confirmed my confidence. After talking to one of the "followers", who sank like a rotted ship and narced them ALL out, he was able to identify and visit each home. Not so great if you are the parent of a Junior High aged child, I would guess.
When I thanked him for his efforts, he warned me to "not get too excited" as the parents played nice but only agreed to "work on it with their kids"... he sounded pessimistic.
I, however, am excited. I am excited because I feel validated that even though these are childhood pranks, they are becoming increasingly frequent, aggressive, and intrusive. They are preventing me from feeling safe and comfortable when I am home with the baby.
I am not excited that there are some families out there that had a pretty bad night. Or some kids today, for example the narc, that probably get beat up. My husband said late last night, after we both had spent some time contemplating the series of events, "You know, I have been thinking, this is the kind of thing that creates a fork in the road. These kids are going to be making a decision because of this. This is where they say ef it, or ask themselves why they are doing this kind of stuff ".
Truer words could not be said.