We are back to the land of the Georgia Peaches. The trip back to Louisiana was great, my sister's wedding was beyond beautiful. But, no matter how much fun a trip "home" always ends with me missing what is now my home. Hey there are no laws saying that a person must live in a state for longer than thirty days before claiming it as "home".
I was ready to get back into our little routines. We got back on Tuesday, unpacked and started the week off like we'd never left. Wednesday I took Turner to school and went to the gym to sweat away some tension. While Tate was in the gym's nursery Mrs Mamie Joe watched her. When I went to retrieve my little bundle of sunshine Mrs Mamie let me know that my baby looked to be getting "the thrash". After a bit of discussion we figured out that "the thrash" is what she calls thrush. (I knew Tater had thrush, I brought her to the doctor on Tuesday afternoon and got her some antibiotics.) Mrs Mamie Joe then asked me "Do you got yourself a conjurer?" This just left me dumbfounded, a conjurer? She then told me that "the thrash" can be conjured away. All I need to find is a man whose father died before he was born, then let the stranger blow three times in my baby's mouth.
I love eccentricity, love cookey people, I even love plain old weirdos. I love home remedies, but let a stranger blow into my baby's mouth? WTF!? You all know my psychotic germaphobia would never let this happen. It was endearing of her to want to help my daughter but not even after hell serves snow cones would I allow a stranger, or any person, to blow into Tate's mouth. Ah, there are so many reasons that the world as a whole thinks Southerners are nuts, Mamie Joe is at the top of the list.
I know that story will make me smile for years to come but I am having a hard time feeling chipper today. In an hour I get to take Tate to a pediatric specialist to have an ultrasound done on her chest. She has a lump under her right nipple, it's about the size of a blueberry. The first day I noticed it I called her pediatrician in Utah. We had just arrived in Georgia and I hadn't gotten a doctor here. They assured me it was just a cyst and it would be gone in a week. Well it's been on her for over two months. Her doctor here saw her yesterday and ordered the ultrasound just to be safe. I know it's just a cyst and she will be fine, but my stomach is in knots. Any parent knows the feeling. If anything is wrong with either of my children I get this sick in the stomach feeling. I felt this way the first time we took Turner to the ER. So if you are the praying type, say a quick one for Tate. I know she's fine and is just milking this lump thing for better Christmas loot, but I worry none the less. I'll let eveyone know what is going on once we know. Thanks--Tiff
Thursday, November 29, 2007
Monday, November 12, 2007
Two more mintues part two
Little monster has been busy. Now that his verbal skills are right up there with ninety percent of college freshman he can demand new and better things. Little Monster was recently seen out campaigning. He's promising his constituents less naps and more junk if they join his march against order.
Little Monster has coerced Princess Poo to be his second in command. In exchange for him picking her up and dragging her around the living room, she will use her powers of poo against mom. The two of them are really funny. They squeal and laugh at just about anything, they are definitely a united front.
Little Monster is the spokes person for my dynamic duo. Being that he's the only one speaking English it just makes sense. He now asks for things on Tate's behalf: "Mom she wants to be carried by me", "Mom let her stay in the tub for just two more minutes". Princess Poo yells her agreement and the two soggy monsters get a few more minutes in the tub.
Little Monster, cunning charmer that he is, is using Tate's lack of language to his advantage. "Mom Tate wants me to get a trampoline so she can bounce too". Tate also frequently wants to watch Power Rangers and stay up late.
Life with monsters is interesting to say the least. I am so happy that my monsters both belong to the same union. They work with each other, which is everything I always wanted.
Little Monster has coerced Princess Poo to be his second in command. In exchange for him picking her up and dragging her around the living room, she will use her powers of poo against mom. The two of them are really funny. They squeal and laugh at just about anything, they are definitely a united front.
Little Monster is the spokes person for my dynamic duo. Being that he's the only one speaking English it just makes sense. He now asks for things on Tate's behalf: "Mom she wants to be carried by me", "Mom let her stay in the tub for just two more minutes". Princess Poo yells her agreement and the two soggy monsters get a few more minutes in the tub.
Little Monster, cunning charmer that he is, is using Tate's lack of language to his advantage. "Mom Tate wants me to get a trampoline so she can bounce too". Tate also frequently wants to watch Power Rangers and stay up late.
Life with monsters is interesting to say the least. I am so happy that my monsters both belong to the same union. They work with each other, which is everything I always wanted.
Thursday, November 8, 2007
Ramblings of a sleepless woman
I need a sick day. Maybe not a sick day just a pass to get out of a day. I brought Turner to the doctor today for a flu shot. He was great the whole time til he saw the needle and was told he had to pull his pants down. My heart broke for him.
Brad has never been with our kids to the doctor except for a couple emergency room trips. He's never seen his baby get stuck with a needle. Worse, he's never seen the look they give you, like you betrayed them. How could Mom let someone hurt them like this? Even worse, how could Mom hold them down to be hurt?
I need Brad to take Turner back in thirty days for the other half of the flu shot for Turner. He's bigger and older. It's no longer a nasty surprise, he knows it's coming. He can also tell me that it hurts and scream for me to make them stop. I know it's good for him, hell, I made the appointment. It just kills me to watch my baby be in pain, even for that short little bit of time.
These are the times when I thank God over and over for giving me healthy kids. I like to think I am strong and tough, but I haven't had to watch over a really sick child before and hope I never have to.
My hormones are riding on a pretty good roller coaster here lately. When Turner was about four months old I left him for the fist time ever with my friend Nikki. I went and chopped off all my hair and dyed it black with neon pink highlights. My hormones were making me crazy them too. Tomorrow I am going to chop off all my hair again. No pink, out of respect for my sister's up coming wedding. I think it's my way of rebelling against the new constraints of life with an infant. Not rebelling against Tate, just the new found lack of freedom.
It is incredible to have a little soul who wants me non stop all day and all night. It's addictive, worse than any drug. Having a baby is better than the rush from a new relationship. It's falling in love with someone so totally that you even think their poop is cute. But it is also all consuming and exhausting. Or, am I supposed to say that? Well, it is exhausting.
I find myself day dreaming of a night where all I do is sleep for six or maybe seven hours in a row. But then I think she'll only be tiny for a bit longer, so enjoy every minute of it, both night and day. Sleep deprivation is a funny thing. It's like stepping through the looking glass, what a wonder land I live in. Maybe that's why I smile like the Cheshire cat, my life is perfect all turned upside down.
Brad has never been with our kids to the doctor except for a couple emergency room trips. He's never seen his baby get stuck with a needle. Worse, he's never seen the look they give you, like you betrayed them. How could Mom let someone hurt them like this? Even worse, how could Mom hold them down to be hurt?
I need Brad to take Turner back in thirty days for the other half of the flu shot for Turner. He's bigger and older. It's no longer a nasty surprise, he knows it's coming. He can also tell me that it hurts and scream for me to make them stop. I know it's good for him, hell, I made the appointment. It just kills me to watch my baby be in pain, even for that short little bit of time.
These are the times when I thank God over and over for giving me healthy kids. I like to think I am strong and tough, but I haven't had to watch over a really sick child before and hope I never have to.
My hormones are riding on a pretty good roller coaster here lately. When Turner was about four months old I left him for the fist time ever with my friend Nikki. I went and chopped off all my hair and dyed it black with neon pink highlights. My hormones were making me crazy them too. Tomorrow I am going to chop off all my hair again. No pink, out of respect for my sister's up coming wedding. I think it's my way of rebelling against the new constraints of life with an infant. Not rebelling against Tate, just the new found lack of freedom.
It is incredible to have a little soul who wants me non stop all day and all night. It's addictive, worse than any drug. Having a baby is better than the rush from a new relationship. It's falling in love with someone so totally that you even think their poop is cute. But it is also all consuming and exhausting. Or, am I supposed to say that? Well, it is exhausting.
I find myself day dreaming of a night where all I do is sleep for six or maybe seven hours in a row. But then I think she'll only be tiny for a bit longer, so enjoy every minute of it, both night and day. Sleep deprivation is a funny thing. It's like stepping through the looking glass, what a wonder land I live in. Maybe that's why I smile like the Cheshire cat, my life is perfect all turned upside down.
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