Meh. Here are some pictures.

Ouch. I woke up yesterday morning to workout (like a good little girl) and have been paying for it ever since. No wonder I stopped working out. It hurts!! And not like a normal, mmmm that's a good burn hurt, like, I would rather have Chokydar gnaw off my leg than go up these stairs one more time kind of hurt. I actually ache lying still. Like breathing makes me feel the soreness. I think working out again will help (?!?!) but I'm not sure how to manage that given my level of ouch.

As it would follow then, today has been less than stellar. I'm really tired (and did I mention achey?) and my motivation is pretty low. A couple of days ago, however, I did manage to get the kitchen put away and took some pictures of the kitchen, living room, and breakfast nook. I'd eventually like to get a couple of arm chairs to face the fireplace (which reminds me--Evie now calls fire trucks "fireplace cars") and hang some prints/art/photos/something on the wall.

So much time and so little to do. Wait a minute. Strike that. Reverse it.

I haven't posted anything in weeks. It's been both a busy time and a slow time. We've had a trip to the emergency room for bacon grease burns on Evie's face (that's a complete story unto itself...), celebrated a friend's birthday and St. Patrick's Day, taken in some theater and discovered some new restaurants. The weather has been kind of bizarre, ranging from extremely gorgeous to downright nasty in a matter of hours. Especially on bad weather days I find myself struggling to mount the energy to do much.

For instance, this morning I sat down to post these pictures. Evie and I picked up some chalk the other day and spent the afternoon drawing on the back patio. I know I had a lot I wanted to say when I sat down to write this...stories to tell, anecdotes and news, but I'm pretty much drawing a blank right now. It's been that way. I'll muster the energy to do start something but haven't been really successful at following through lately.

Ok, I'll come back later. Just wanted to say hi and that we're still here. Hope you're good too.

Without Power; With Friends.

About Wednesday of last week the town was a buzz with talk of a coming ice storm.

"It's supposed to be worse than the Christmas Eve storm!" someone said.

"Did you hear that they've cancelled school tomorrow in anticipation?" another countered.

"But it's nearly seventy degrees out!" a third chimed in.

Indeed, it all seemed a little rash, but when you're in Oklahoma, this kind of cold weather storm is sort of a big deal. They don't happen every day, and when they do, the town is left scrambling to salt the roads, plow the streets, and make all the preparations that are second nature in northern cities that experience this sort of thing multiple times every winter.

Thursday arrived and it didn't look quite so bad. Still, Justin was sent home around 11 am from class. Things began to pick up that afternoon; first wind and rain, and then the ice began to form. The wind blew so hard as to make the icicles form at an angle!

We had a couple of flickers in our power, but didn't think much of it...until at 4:45 when the lights went out and didn't come back on.

After a few minutes we looked up the number for the power company and called to report the outage and get an estimate on how long we could expect to wait before the power would be restored.

"I can't give you an accurate estimate at this time. Power should be restored by 11 am on Monday, but it could be sooner."

Monday was a bad answer. Without a working fireplace, four days was way too long to be in an unheated home with an 18 month old. Thankfully, K&J still had power and welcomed us into their home because every hotel we called in Lawton was already full to the brim.

Our stay included Wii golf, bowling, and The Price is Right, Syfy's Alice, a very competitive game of Scrabble, delicious cookies (and other food), hot coffee, a comfortable air mattress, and of course, a visit with good friends. When Justin and Kellen went to check on the status of our power Friday morning they discovered that it had been restored. We stayed another night with K&J anyway. It was that much fun.

After more than four years of growing friendship, I honestly don't know what I'm going to do when we go our separate ways in a few months. Trying to soak up every minute...

You can shoot her up, but you can't keep her down.

My poor baby. She had her one year well-visit today and received FIVE shots. Three in one tiny leg, and two in the other. I'm not going to go down the vaccination debate path (we've chosen to follow the prescribed schedule as reccomended by our doctors) but it does seem cruel to give such a tiny person so many shots all at once.

She really handled the whole experience like a pro. Actually, I think I cried before she did. I had an embarassing Michele-breaks-down-in-public-after-VERY-little-provocation moment. I undressed E for the customary weigh in and measurement and (very understandably in my mind) she began to cry as I lay her on the exam table. It's a scary thing to be stripped naked and laid under florescent lights on crinkle paper! I don't blame her in the least for losing her cool, but the tech/nurse guy (whatever) looks over his shoulder and says to me, "She doesn't spend much time away from you, does she?" with a (perhaps imagined) hint of judgement in his voice.

"Why do you say that?" I shot back.

"Oh, just because she reacts that way." he replied.

And then I was all upset. When will I stop being so sensitive about the offhand comments of complete strangers? So what if I'm her primary care giver? So what if she finds comfort in me? It's a perfectly normal and natural phase that children go through at this time in their lives to be clingy (hello, separation anxiety?). And of course then it doesn't help that he takes her measurements and after going to record them on the chart looks concerned then comes back with the tape measure to measure her head circumference once more.

"It's nothing to be worried about," he says, looking worried. "I just wanted to double check I had it right." In addition to having an apparently big head (above 95th percentile), E weighs in the 15th percentile and measures in the 25th.

When we saw our doctor, I kept it together until he asked me if I had any concerns. I started welling up a bit (HOW embarassing--go ahead, try looking not hysterical and obsessive as you cry while complaining about being made out to be overbearing and hyperprotective) as I explained the tactlessness of the nurse-man. Our doctor was very comforting and said that the nurses aren't pediactric nurses, so any observations they make are based on their own personal opinions. He went on to say that Evie's big head, in his opinion, indicates high intelligence, and that her measurements and weight are well within healthy range and that he much prefers to see children on the low end rather than the high, as is so often the case in America these days. He said she's looking fantastic and was amused (and a bit disgusted) by the carrot-baby story at the Krankenhaus. (One of the first things he said to me upon examining her was, "This orangish coloration is perfectly normal and comes from carrots. Do not worry about it.")

After the exam and FIVE shots, we also needed to go have her finger pricked so that routine bloodwork could be done. Evie was fine through all of this, although she wanted to be carried rather than put in her stroller. (All the while I'm thinking sarcastically in my head, "She doesn't spend much time away from you, does she?") After this we headed back to the car. By this point Evelyn has already ripped off the bandaid on her recently punctured finger, and after I got her settled in her carseat began work removing the FIVE bandaids on her little legs. I pulled over in the parking lot (I had already begun making for the exit) to take the bandaids from her so she wouldn't eat them. When I twisted back around in my seat, however, I discovered that my ID card (required to gain entrance on post) had fallen from where I had lodged it in my lapbelt and was nowhere to be found. Great. As I looked for it, Evie fell asleep in the back almost instantly and my anxiety increased as I imagined having to wake the baby to go through some ridiculous rigamarole in order to get on post if I couldn't find the darn ID.

It took me five minutes of crawling around on the floor board and looking in every possible crevice (of course I chose to wear a skirt today...) before I finally found it. Whew.

Evie woke when I carried her inside, but fell asleep almost instantly. She woke again when the phone rang, but again fell immediately back to sleep. She's still zonked (an hour an a half now...). Poor B.

We're having a bad day today

When things are going bad, I have the tendency to want them to stay that way. "What?!?" you ask, "Michele, that makes no sense! Don't you want things to get better?" The real answer is, of course I do. The answer when I'm in the depths of my pity party (You're not invited, thanks, it's a party for one. I like feeling alone. And miserable. Go away, I have no friends.) is No. Life sucks. And then you die. The world is out to get me. Nobody likes me, everybody hates me, guess I'll go eat worms.

Today just started off on the wrong foot. I was up really late last night finishing my homework for class--I'd put it off until the last minute and HAD to get it done last night. Evelyn was cranky when she woke up. She didn't want to take her nap this morning. I somehow feel a little dizzy and keep bumping into things today. I've hit my head twice already. Ouch. I haven't showered in a day. (I should be showering now, but it feels better when you're miserable to be dirty too. Don't want to do anything that might accidentally make me feel better.) The weather is super crappy and cold. We went out to run errands and of course no one was friendly. I felt fat and dirty and blech. We came home and I called the Nurse's hotline--I've been meaning to for a week now; Evie has a bit of an orangey tint to her skin that comes and goes. I don't think it's jaundice; her eyes are perfectly white and she doesn't have the other symptoms listed online for jaundice. I think it's much more likely that it's something like carotenemia but I want to make sure of course that she's okay and I'm not brushing off something serious.

Well, the nurse on the hotline said I should have her seen within 3 days. Now I feel kinda guilty because I've noticed this orangey-ness for a while now and haven't been compelled to spring into action on it. It seems to come and go and she acts normal and healthy. But I called in to get an appointment, and of course, they don't have any appointments. My options are 1)the emergency room 2)call non-stop and be on hold for the next 5 hours of my life to see if they have an opening that becomes available. I freaked out on the woman on the phone, pushed to the point of tears as Evelyn spat apricots at me and I stared blankly out the window at the gray. She gave me the number for the nurses line here in Baumholder; the other line was apparently stateside.

On top of it all, I can't help but have these huge nagging paranoid doubts about my ability to be a human being, let alone a mother. I haven't been eating that well--nothing sounds good, and I worry that Evelyn's diet isn't up to snuff or that maybe my breastmilk isn't giving her all of what she needs. I'm afraid that my lifelong food issues are going to be passed on to her.

I know it isn't as bleak as it feels right now. Thankfully, Evie has settled down for a nap, and will most likely be in a better mood when she wakes. I probably just need some more sleep myself and to go take a shower (and workout--which I haven't done in over a week!).

On a completely unrelated note, here are some pictures of Evelyn being adorable with my growing afghan:

WAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!

It's been a bit of a tiring week. Evelyn has been sketchy on her naps this week, and even when she will finally drift off (out of sheer exhaustion) it's not without much vocalization letting me know she's not pleased with the arrangement. In addition to fighting her to take some naps, I haven't been getting that much sleep myself either, which just leaves us both short tempered.

Did anyone notice how I didn't follow up with you on how great my plan to workout in the morning before Evie wakes is going? Yeah, well, that's because it's not going so great. I have managed to do it two or three times, but lately Evelyn has been waking randomly during the night again. She hasn't done that in weeks and weeks, but suddenly, it's 2 AM and she's awake. The next night, 4 AM. This morning 4:45. I thought briefly about trying to just work out after I'd gotten her back to sleep, but I ended up going back to sleep too. I can't help but think I'd be feeling better if I were able to get in my workouts, but there's a physical exhaustion limit and I think I'm tottering close to it.

She's "working on" a nap right now, and it seems promising (THANK GOODNESS). But then my dilemma is this: what to do?? I want to go back to sleep too. I should workout. I have homework to do and about a zillion little projects on my to-do list. I have a funny feeling of what I might end up doing...

In which I nearly cry in public

The New Parent Support group on post organizes an annual car safety check event. I remember last year I wanted to go, but we didn't yet have our car seat, so I just obsessively researched how to install it myself. For some reason it was one of those things I was REALLY stressing about. It was probably all of the statistics floating out there..."7 out of 10 car seats are installed incorrectly! Is YOUR child safe?" I had this mental block that the installation was going to be close to brain surgery and was dreading it. I read the manual. I looked online at videos. I fretted. And finally, I installed the seat. It was so quick and easy, I sat there staring at it thinking 'I must be missing something.' After double checking all latches, hooks, buckles, levers, and reclining angles multiple times, I finally came to the conclusion that I felt comfortable and satisfied with the job I'd done. Score one for me. I think I'd been stressing more about the car seat installation that labor.

Fast forward until December...or was it January...whenever we got Evie's new convertable car seat. I was so excited to get it and have it installed, because in my mind it was going to make certain aspects of our errand running much more smooth, but that's another story...

Anyway, I wasn't too stressed this time around about the installation because the infant seat installation had gone so smoothly and I considered myself something of an expert. I was unpleasantly surprised that it was NOT as intuitive for me as the first seat, and after a couple of failed attempts where I really had just guessed how things were supposed to go (the manual and pictures being of VERY little use) I came inside and did further research online. Now, as an art history major in college, I know something about references and the difference between a good and bad source of information. I didn't just YouTube videos on how to install a random car seat from the 80s; I went to the manufacturer's website, looked up my specific make and model of the seat, including the seat's manufacture date and found a very useful resource documenting clearly how to ensure proper installation.

I KNOW I did this, but me being me, I always doubt and question myself, and with today being the Car Seat Installation Check Day I thought I should go and have an "expert" take a look at it too. So here's where it gets fun...

I pull into the parking lot and am waved over into a spot. It's more crowded than I thought it would be, but I didn't have to wait in line, and a woman came over quickly with a clip board. I needed to fill out the form and sign a waiver (always comforting) and the woman offered to hold Evie while I did so. The first thing she said upon taking her was, "Brrrr! I bet you're cold!" Criticizing the weather appropriateness of my child's attire: Strike One. Evie wasn't too pleased being held by a stranger and I scrambled to get the form filled as quickly as I could. I got Evie back, self-consciously bundling her a little tighter in her blanket, and the woman began the inspection.

"Good, this is really snug..."
"Nice, this isn't twisted..."
"Perfect..."
"Looks really good..."
"Excellent..."
"Exactly..."
"Now, where do these straps fall on her--above her shoulders?"

"No, no, they're just below," I replied, the studious car seat installer I am.

"Good. And the buckle on her front?"

"Right at arm pit level," I shoot back. Do I get a sticker?

And then it happens. She looks behind the rear facing seat, between the seat and the passenger's chair where I have the car seat tethered to the floor board via the metal anchor of the front chair. She starts laughing. At first, I'm thinking to myself, Oh, I'm so good, she can hardly believe it, but then she says

"Oh wow. Hahahahaahaha. I've never seen this before. Well, maybe in photos. Of what NOT to do. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Mary, come here, you've got to see this! We should get a picture of this!"

I AM NOT KIDDING YOU.

I'm sitting there, holding our child, whose safety means more than anything to me--I'm there trying to be a responsible parent, making sure I'm doing the right thing, looking for support and encouragement, and SHE'S LAUGHING HYSTERICALLY AT MY "MISTAKE." Me being me, my eyes began to fill with tears.

This is the point when I acutally am sort of proud of myself, because where usually I might completely dissolve into sobs and kind of be incomprehensible for a few minutes, I held back my tears and said in a choked voice, "Just so you know, I take great offense at your reaction. I take my child's safety very seriously and you've made me feel really bad. I think that was a horrible thing to do."

She stopped laughing. Of course she hadn't meant to be mean, but it was a very insensitive thing to do to someone--well, at least someone like me. I am so much more sensitive to things like this, and somehow the universe knows this and throws people at me who push my buttons. I need to get a shirt that says, "WATCH OUT! You may be the straw that breaks the camel's back!" She apologized profusely and I could tell she felt genuinely sorry for her reaction, which had been innapropriate. She went on to explain that this isn't typically done in cars like ours--that usually there is a center fastener meant specifically for this type of tether. "Okay," I replied numbly, still trying to get my eyes to reabsorb the liquid that was brimming there. It's not as if I'd tried to secure the thing with bubble gum, rubber bands, staples, and hot glue. I was being thorough. I remembered specifically thinking that that extra tether seemed to be a bit over the top to me, but I remembered seeing it in a video and thought I should do it. In the meantime, another car seat checker came over and quietly said to my woman, "That woman over there got her car seat out of the dumpster...What do I tell her?" Funny, they weren't laughing hysterically at that woman.

Anyway, I pulled it together and she finished the check and was super extra polite to me the rest of the time. She installed the seat again, then I installed it again, and then the check was complete and we were free to go.

I came home and went online to try and find the video I'd seen. As I thought, it's on the manufacturer's website--check it out for yourself if you'd like! If you want to see just what I'm talking about, go to the third tab, "Installation Instructions" then click on the 13th slide, "Versa-Tether Installation." Hmmm, I don't know about you, but it sure seems to me that THAT'S EXACTLY WHAT I'D DONE. Suddenly I don't look so crazy afterall...

I'm totally sending the link to the woman.

In which I am sad without specific reason

355 days. In other words, 11 months and 22 sunrises since Justin deployed. April 2nd is the one year mark. It feels like forever.

Most days I try not to think about it too much. Just keep my nose to the ground, work hard, and try to stay busy. Most days, despite my complaining about Baumholder, I am happy. Insanely happy actually, because even though he's not here right now, I know what I have, and what I have is once in a life time.

But then there are times--and they tend to sneak up on me, when I can actually feel an empty place in my guts. It's a dull ache, a physical longing that involuntarily makes my eyes well up with tears. I choke them back with a smile, knowing they don't do any good. See, it's happening even now as I type...

Today I went to the commissary. They actually have a banner made up that hangs outside declaring, "The Commissary: It's Worth the Trip!" (have I posted about this before? I can't remember...I know I've laughed about it with Julia...) I have decided I'm going to come up with a mock presentation of the other banner options that were rejected for this stellar advertising campaign. Anyway, like I said, it came upon me out of nowhere. There I was, circling the dingy unflatteringly yellow-lit isles and somewhere about the frozen food section I was nearly overcome with tears. I am just so tired. So tired of eating the same foods week after week, of going to the same places day after day. Tired of the same crappy weather (in fairness, we've just come off of a week of GLORIOUS sunny beautiful weather, but it's back to grey and rainy and cold today--I'm sure it doesn't help my mood). I'm tired of living my life alone when I should be sharing it with my husband. I'm tired of being the only one here to marvel at our beautiful child. Just in case you had any doubts--DEPLOYMENTS SUCK.

I'm not looking for pity. This is our life. I'm so proud of Justin. I know he aches to be here every bit as much as I want him here. I haven't let a tear fall today, and I don't think I will. I'll go put away the tomato sauce and chili beans, the baby food and diapers and cross off one more day on the calendar.

P.S. I love you, Justin.

Passive aggressive much?

Someone in my apartment building apparently hates me. Or my dog. Or my baby. It's unclear which of us is the object of loathing because the only tip off I've gotten is a framed note on my doormat "politely" warning about the dangers of noise in the stairwell.

I find this really hilarious for several reasons. First of which is that I just had a conversation the other day with two of my neighbors about said framed notice, which mysteriously appeared at floor level on the landing between my apartment and the one across the hall from us. The two other women both have dogs. One woman is the one that lives directly above us; I've previously referenced them here. She apologized if her dog, Leo, ever disturbs Evie. It was a very nice gesture and--even though sometimes I curse Leo for all the noise he does make, I'm not about to give the woman a hard time about it, especially because she's nice and sensitive to the fact that I have a baby. They have a right to live too. These are just crappy apartments with thin walls. What are you going to do? Anyway, I apologized in turn if Choky ever bothers them, and they both replied that she's not a problem. They actually said, "we never hear her." They're obviously just being polite--sometimes they must hear her. They both wondered aloud about the mysterious appearance of the sign and we all guessed as to who might have placed it there.

Our apartment is on the first floor, so I didn't take the sign's placement personally--although after this morning, I guess I should have. When I opened my door to take Choky out this morning, right smack in the middle of my doormat, there was the sign. I suppose when the Mystery Person's brilliantly subtle tactic didn't work they decided they needed to step it up a notch to make sure I know it's ME they're trying to send a message to. This leads me to the second reason I find this hilarious:

We aren't that noisy. Honestly. Really. I mean, I have a baby and a dog, and yes, they sometimes make noise. Sue me. Evelyn doesn't cry that often, and never really in the middle of the night where it would keep someone awake, and Chokydar only barks when she hears someone else making noise loud enough to be heard in the hallway. I keep her partitioned off with us in the living room (away from the part of the apartment that faces the street) all day so that she's less likely to hear people coming and going. If anything, I get annoyed at people making noise in the stairwell because more often than not, their noise will set Choky off, which in turn threatens to wake MY sleeping baby. Can anyone else see the irony in this???

The notice doesn't even specifically mention dogs at all, which is funny, because Choky is the loudest one in our family for sure. Loud footsteps? Hello, I've just lost 50 lbs, thanks, no loud footsteps here. Metal doors slamming? I take special care to NOT slam my door. Voices? And who exactly am I supposed to be carrying on with in the hallway?

I hate living in an apartment. Most of all, I just wish Mystery Person had balls enough to knock on my door and talk to me about it if they have a problem with me. I'm just trying to get by here.

That was too easy...

Last night Evelyn was in bed and asleep by 9:20. Like whoa. I couldn't believe it. I hardly knew what to do with myself. I started and finished an entire homework module, learning how to manipulate the tricky pen tool in AI. Lots of fun, and the end result was this rockin' pear:



I'm really looking forward to playing around more with the pen tool. I see great possibilities.

So around 11:45 I headed to bed, still not quite knowing what to do with myself because Evelyn was still asleep. I had a great feeling of unease because the whole thing was too darn easy. I lay awake in bed for at least an hour, worrying and thinking about minutia. Of course, just as I began to drift off, Evie woke up. Then I began to pay for the ease of her initial bedtime. We were awake from maybe 1:30 to 4am--nursing, cajolling, pleading for sleep, to no avail. I must have put her down 5 or 6 times and had it really look like she was going to make it this time. But no, no dice. I'm not entirely sure how it all worked out, except that she was in her crib this morning, and I woke up in bed, so at some point, I guess it stuck.

Today I've tried her for a nap twice with no luck. The second time I went and had a lie down myself, hoping to make up a little sleep, but no...

NOW, of course, she's asleep, but I have somewhere (grumble) to be in 3 hours, and it's a place I'm not particularly excited about going, so instead of sleeping, I'll spend the next 3 hours mentally pacing and hand wringing and sweating at the forced awkwardness of it all.

In the name of all that is good, TAKE A NAP

Last Tuesday I met my friend Tricia (we were in the same pregnancy group) and her son, Kieran, for a shopping trip to H&M. It was totally fun and just what we needed--some socialization and a break from Baumholder. Shaking up Evie's schedule can be a dangerous thing, however.

We actually operate pretty loosely when it comes to following a specific schedule--I basically follow Evelyn's lead as far as timing goes, but we do have a general pattern. It usually goes something like: wake, eat, play, sometimes other random activity, sleep, repeat. But from last Tuesday to this Monday, Evie's pattern when more like this:

Wake
Eat
Play
NOT SLEEP
Get cranky
NOT SLEEP
Play
Eat
NOT SLEEP
Repeat

Did I mention, NOT SLEEP? The child did not take a nap on her own between the hours of 8 am and 10 pm ONCE in almost an entire week. I almost lost my mind. She would sleep, after she was totally exhausted, but ONLY on my lap after nursing herself into a drunken slumber and she would wake immediately if I tried to displace her.

I tried everything to get the kid to sleep last week. Everything. Nothing seemed to work, and I can only say THANK GOODNESS that she seems to have settled back into her usual routine. It's amazing how little you're able to accomplish in a day when you don't have any baby-free time. By the time she went to bed at night, I was so exhausted I couldn't bring myself to do anything other than stumble to bed myself.

The past couple of days she's been taking not one, but TWO entire naps! It's beyond amazing. It's miraculous. I hardly know what to do with myself.

Of course, she randomly has started waking at 2 am...

Return of the Tomato

I don't think I've ever explained the name of the blog. "Bear" is for Chokydar, who looks like a bear despite being, in fact, a dog. "Tomato" is for Evelyn. In the weeks following her birth she was deemed the Angry Tomato because she screamed with unparalleled wrath and fury until the was red faced and shaking in rage. She's blissfully moved out of that stage...

Until today. The Tomato returned. I know it must be just getting over shots yesterday, or perhaps her teeth are finally trying to push through. Whatever the cause, she is rather inconsolable today. It is very unlike her at this point. She is typically a very agreeable baby and is consoled quickly.

Ahh! I pray she's in a better mood tomorrow, because I was accosted by Girl Scouts on my last trip to the mail room and the cookies I bought won't make it another day if this continues.

GAARRH!

If it weren't the end of the day it wouldn't have been so annoying.

Evie has been going to bed (and by this I mean, in her crib rather than the swing...she usually has a "pre-bedtime nap" that is in the swing around 7 or 8) around 10 and as late as 11ish lately. It's been working great and she sleeps basically through the night, usually waking once sometime between 3-7 am. Well, I started thinking that maybe this was putting her to bed too late, and tonight, when she was showing signs of sleepiness around 9, instead of doing the usual routine, I decided we'd start the bedtime ritual a tiny bit earlier.

Really, it might have turned out ok--I'll never know--because after 3 diaper changes, 3 outfit changes, and re-fitting the bed with sheets she was awake and I was exhausted.

I first noticed that her diaper had sprung a leak when I took her in to read a story. It was weird because it was really a fresh diaper. She'd only been in it maybe 20 minutes. I thought it was a fluke until it happened again. My first thought was that the liner in the cloth diapers was misaligned or something, and therefore wasn't doing the super job absorbing that I've come to expect. After the leak happened the second time I ruled this out. The problem was something much more sinister than a misaligned pad...

I'm pretty positive the diapers have lost their absorbency because of the diaper cream I've been using. I knew I wasn't supposed to use diaper rash cream with them, but I did anyway after a particularly ugly rash Evie got about a month and a half ago. I'd tried just changing her more frequently, but when it didn't seem to be getting better, I starting applying a cream. The cream did the trick, but at a price, obviously.

GRRRRrrrRRRrrr

So here I am, 11:30 at night, with a load of clean diapers that are probably all just going to gleefully repel anything Evie tries to gift them. The only disposables I have on hand she's outgrown.

I know what we'll be doing tomorrow, first thing possible: an early morning commissary run for a temporary stock of disposable diapers and Dawn original dish soap, which supposedly is a remedy to use in "stripping" cloth diapers of this diabolical residue build up.

Boo.

Thursday

Today was Thursday. I couldn't think of anything else to make today particularly stand out. I managed to workout and went out to check the mail. I've been feeling a little blah lately. I can feel the winter blues start to creep in with the continually grey skies, chilly temperature, and limited daylight.

It's been a real struggle lately to do my daily workout. I know I'm making progress; I've lost 35 pounds since Evelyn was born (I'd gained 60), and even though I know that's awesome progress, I can't help but fixate on the 25 left to lose. My knees are a little achey from doing jumping jacks and sometimes I feel so Groundhogs Day about it all. I'd been feeling much better about my body, but I think I've turned some kind of corner. I've stopped feeling light in comparison to my pregnancy weight and have started feeling heavy, remembering what it once was to weigh my pre-pregnancy weight. Even as I type this I want to slap myself for being so "glass is half empty."

That being said, even when I get down about stuff, it's amidst this incredible sense of joy. I am SO blessed and when I stop to remember that, the grey skies don't look so bad anymore.

Happy Veterans Day

First of all, thank you to my husband and all the men and women who serve with him or have served our nation. Because of the last few years I better understand the sacrifices service requires and appreciate even more those who voluntarily make the choice to give of themselves so deeply.


On a very different note, I have a story to tell today. Funny story--true story--

As it is Veteran's Day, most places around were closed today, but I felt the urge to get out of the house. I thought the Java Cafe would be open, and the idea of a chai latte was very appealing on this cold and dreary afternoon. Having made up my mind, I began preparations to leave the house:


1. Find shoes and put them on--check.
2. Feed the baby--check.
3. Change the baby--check.
4. Make sure the baby is appropriately attired for outdoors--check.
5. Remove the toilet paper roll from the dispenser in the bathroom so Chokydar won't eat it while we're gone (this is learned from experience)--check.
6. Make sure wallet is actually in purse and location of keys verified--check.
7. Put baby in carrier and strap in--check.
8. Grab spitty cloth--check.
9. Get a treat for Chokydar so that she will willingly go into bathroom while we are gone--check.
10. Put Choky in the bathroom--check.
11. Carrying baby, leave the house & lock the door--check.

All of this for a 48 second drive 3 blocks away to get a chai. Please don't judge--sometimes it's the little things in life that can get you through a rainy day.

I've got Evie secured in the back seat and plop myself in up front, key in the ignition and....

Nothing. Well, not exactly nothing, more like vvrrrclickvvrrrclickvrrrclickvrrrclickvrrrclickvvvr.

Maybe it was a fluke...

vvrrrclickvvrrrclickvrrrclickvrrrclickvrrrclickvvvr

Nope. No fluke. The car won't start. Joy.

vvrrrclickvvrrrclickvrrrclickvrrrclickvrrrclickvvvr

Okay, just checking...

Dreams of chai dashed, I get back out of the car, go back around and get Evie out (who is rather amused at this new game of pretending to go for a drive) and go back inside, where Chokydar greets me as if I've been gone for weeks.

I called the German repair guy, as the only on-post auto service place requires prescience and only sees those who have booked weeks in advance. The car will be towed tomorrow morning. I'm thinking it's the starter, and hope that it isn't too complicated or expensive to set straight.

I can't help but be grateful that this happened on a day when the only thing at stake was a latte and we were at home rather than, oh say, at the commissary with a car full of groceries or 45 minutes away somewhere.

Are you finished yet?

Last night Julia and I went to Chili's. Although I worried how she would handle it, Evelyn behaved marvelously (at least until the last few minutes...we'll get to that in just a bit...). Evie just soaked in the noises and movement in the dimly lit restaurant, wide eyed but calm. She spent some time in her car seat and also "sat" in my lap.

Our waitress came to the table almost immediately after we were seated and asked if we were ready to order. I really knew what I wanted, but the abruptness with which she showed up questioning us took me by surprise and we asked her for a few more minutes. She dropped her pad and quickly strode off. When she came back a few minutes later and prompted us again, I requested the Turkey Combo. It's one of my favorites at Chili's and usually what I order. I was especially craving it last night.

"Oh, sorry. I forgot to tell you. We're out of turkey," the waitress blurted.

I thought she was kidding.

"We're also out of iced tea, draft beer, and Jack Daniels."

"Jack Daniels? Great, that ruins my evening," I said, bouncing Evie on my lap.

But seriously, they were out of turkey. I very nearly gave her a hard time by asking for the Cajun turkey sandwich instead, but thought better of it. I ordered a burger.

We were working on dinner with Evie more or less cooperating. She began to be fussy in the car seat at one point, so I held her while working on the burger one handed. It's a wonder that all mothers aren't ambidextrous after a few months. I was eating more slowly because of this arrangement and there was still maybe a quarter of my burger and more than half of the fries remaining when our waitress, Speedy Gonzales, showed back up and asked if we were finished. Julia and I had talked earlier about getting dessert, so I just let her take my plate. In one swift move she'd cleared the plates, laid down our bill on the table and was gone.

About this time Evie was getting really tired, but there was no way she was going to fall asleep in the hustle of the restaurant without a little help. I'd brought my nursing cover and diaper bag this time (lesson learned from the Thai restaurant), so we commenced the awkward juggle I have not yet mastered that is nursing in public. Evelyn was happily eating and the waitress came back, expecting us to have paid and instead we ordered a dessert--the chocolate chip brownie thing they have with ice cream and walnuts and mmmmm.....

In another minute it arrived, and since I was still occupied, Julia slowly started in on dessert. She was taking her time since I couldn't yet dive in, but even after Evie finished we weren't wolfing it down. I laughed and remarked how when Justin and I order a dessert to split, there's none of the dainty restraint Julia and I were showing. Justin and I usually dive in and sometimes duel spoons at the end to see who gets the last bite. (He always lets me win.) Julia said it was the same way with her husband, and still there we were, trying to be quite lady-like and restrained with one another. ;) We continued nibbling, thoroughly enjoying ourselves and in no particular rush.

"Are you finished with that?"

The waitress had popped out of nowhere and was reaching for the plate, about a third of the brownie thing still perfectly intact. Julia and I reflexively lunged forward, shielding the plate and blurted, "No!" Ahem..."No, no, I don't think we're quite finished yet."

Once we actually were finished, I decided that I'd better check Evie's diaper before we headed home. The evening had gone so well, I didn't want to spoil it by discovering a leak halfway to the car. I gathered my precious baby up in my arms and made my way to the rear of the restaurant where I saw that there was a room especially for changing babies. Cool. As I opened the door we stepped out of the relaxing glow of the barely lit restaurant and into the cruel and stark world of the florescently lit changing room. Evie looked up to see not her mother, but a horrifying ax murder who had assumed my form. Seriously, the look on her little face was one of pure terror and shock and I INSTANTLY regretted going into the room. If I were to do it over again, at that moment I would have walked right back out--maybe she would have calmed back down. Instead I pig-headedly thought she was just mildly started and would settle down as I changed her. Not. The. Case. She screamed with more fury and intensity than I have ever heard from her, and like I said, it wasn't just any old cry--she was terrified. I tried cuddling her and rocking her, and even did a little impromptu nursing standing right there in the changing station. I did the quickest diaper change in history and gathered her back up, still screaming bloody murder, hoping she'd calm down when we re-entered the restaurant. It helped a little, but at this point she was gone. I motioned to Julia that we were headed to the car. The commotion we caused as we left was considerable and I'm sure that some people wondered if they should call child protective services or if this was a ploy to get out of paying the bill.

It was only after we were back in the car and I nursed Evie once again that she calmed down. As I strapped her into her car seat she gave me a sleepy smile as if to say, "Oh! Thank God! It's you again! Where were you 10 minutes ago in the bathroom?" She doesn't seem traumatized by the event, but I think I'm scarred. I've never felt so helpless and horrible.

And I still want my turkey sandwich...

Growing pains

Can you imagine if you put on 10% of your body weight in one week? I have to guess it's probably a pretty uncomfortable position to be in, and don't even start thinking about growing an inch in nearly as little time. The girl is growing like a weed and it's a miracle to watch. It's also been a bit of an experience in the last couple of days. It's as if she hit the 3 month mark and her body said, "Alright! Kick it into high gear, boys!" For three days now E has been uncharacteristically cranky. I've checked everything to make sure there's no other problem. She's fine. She's perfect. She's just pissed.

I'm wondering if perhaps she's getting ready to start teething. I can't see anything happening with her gums really...maybe they're a little more prominent...or it could be my imagination, looking for more explanation than just a growth spurt. She almost goes straight from being hungry to sleepy to hungry again, all tinged with fussiness. This was not the case three days ago! Oh, how I miss life pre-Thursday.

I'd mentioned she's begun to be a little more difficult to settle to sleep at night. Last night she nursed for a little more than an hour and I started to think that the kid is NEVER going to stop on her own. She's the Energizer Bunny of nursing and becomes furious when you try to get her little hoover mouth off. I've found there is about a 5 second window during that fury, where if you can rock and shush perfectly she will calm down and collapse into a little sleeping rag doll. If you miss the window, it's all over. You might as well go sit back down because there's no hope of consoling her otherwise.

Last night, I hit the magic window for consoling, and everything looked very promising. I've placed her ever so delicately in the crib, and am moving in slow motion as to not rouse her. Why oh why am I wearing corduroy, I wonder. There is a reason you'll never see a ninja in corduroy. It is impossible to be stealthy in corduroy. Despite this, my exit is looking good and as I start to tip toe away, Chokydar sneezes. I'm not kidding. The dog sneezes, and Evie is wide eyed and flailing, completely startled and completely awake. Sigh.

After I calmed her down I left her awake in the crib to see if she would go to sleep on her own. She wouldn't. She was quiet just long enough to make me think she was going to sleep, long enough to lure me to bed I had just crawled under the covers and arranged myself perfectly when she began to protest from the other room. It began quietly and I held my breath, hoping she'd calm down and go back to sleep. No cigar. This happened twice, and on the third time, (now about 12:30 am) we'd been trying to get to bed for nearly two and a half hours. When I went in, she would grow calm and hush her crying but would begin again as soon as I moved. I sang to her, rocked and cuddled her. It all worked, but only temporarily. The minute I'd stop, she'd start. Finally we went back to the rocking chair and she nursed for another 10 minutes or so until this time she really fell asleep. I was hoping that given the extraordinary effort to get her to sleep, she would stay that way for a long time. About 3 am she called out to me. I started having flash backs to those first few weeks of exhaustion and realized how good I've had it lately, and how grateful I am, given that it's just me--no back up or pinch hitter available.

After nursing, she went back to sleep and made it from about 3:45 to 8:45 when we got up for the day. I'm feeling pretty tired, but am encouraged by the fact that it's actually SUNNY here today. I only hope that this spurt passes in the next couple of days and we can settle back into something similar to the routine we'd established before. Growing that much must be a pain!