Liberated!

Not that you care, but I was participating in Blog365, where you have to write something, anything, every day for one whole year. Even if all you could write was that you had nothing to write. And boy, was I there. I lost the fun of blogging.  So I decided it wasn’t worth it and I bowed out.

And it felt so decadent to NOT blog yesterday. Before, it was not out of the ordinary for me to get out of bed, turn the laptop back on, and write just to say that I did it that day. Sometimes I even had to cheat and back date my post. So not the point of this whole endeavor. I already have a few jobs, thankyouverymuch, I did not need to add blogging to my list of responsibilities.

I feel so free!

So now I just wanted to write a little post inspired by the news that Ellen Degeneres and Portia De Rossi got married over the weekend. In the article I read, it mentioned that Portia’s real name is not Portia. Her name is Amanda something-or-other. Lots of celebs used totally made up names, or versions of their real names. But it made me wonder. What does Ellen call Portia when it’s just the two of them at home? Portia or Amanda? Does Bono’s wife call him Bono or Paul when she’s yelling at him to pick up his wet towel from the bathroom floor (because you know she has to at least every now and then)?  And if you are say, Bono, and your spouse calls you by a name that is not your “real” name, does that give you some sort of complex? Do you feel they don’t really know the real you if they don’t even call you by your real name? Maybe I should go by a different name for a while and see what happens.

And you just thought the blog content would improve now that I’m not obligated to write, didn’t you?

Blocked

I feel badly about the fact that my blog posts lately have sucked. I just don’t have much worth saying lately. I need some inspiration.

What should I be writing about? I may be blogged out for a while….

Bridget Update

Bridget is finally feeling somewhat better, although she refuses to drink Pedialyte in any flavor. Good to know after spending a lot of money on it. But she is drinking water. Tomorrow I think is the day she can have milk again. She’s been clingy and kind of whiny today but very cute. She actually laid down on the couch with me today and watched Barefoot Contessa. I think she wanted me to make her a key lime pie.

Somehow during her illness she has become even more verbal. She told me the other night, when I tried to sneak in the evil Pedialyte, that I had brought her “wrong juice Mommy.” How does she know the meaning of wrong? Today when I started up the stairs, she was downstairs and she commanded me “come back downstairs Mommy.” I think that’s the longest sentence she’s ever used. She also farted today in her booster chair and looked at me and said “Mommy toot toot.” I said no, that was not Mommy and so she went through her list of people. “Daddy toot toot. Pa-Pa toot toot. Mee-Ma toot toot.” You’ll notice that she never threw herself under the bus there. Apparently blaming your toots on other people is something that comes with age and maturity. Or something.

I *Heart* My Husband

Yesterday’s issues with Bridget’s tummy unfortunately were not isolated. After spending the day dealing with messy diapers, I put a call into the doctor, and while I waited for a call back, she starting throwing up. The nurse gave me instructions that included Pedialyte. Except since I was home alone, I was kind of stuck. I couldn’t go out with Bridget because I didn’t know which end was going to blow at any given time. And of course I couldn’t leave her alone to go get the Pedialyte. So I called my mom. When I explained to her my predicament, she immediately said “I’ll be right there.” Now, my mom was not always the most maternal of mothers but she’s usually really good in a crisis. And it’s no small feat to get from her house to my house at 5 p. m. As soon as she said that, I started bawling. It had been a really rough day, what with poop, puke and roofing noise (which did not finish until 7:30 p.m.) and I just was done. Bridget ran up to me, hugged my legs and said “Don’t cry Mommy.” It was really sweet.  Anyway, mom came, brought Pedialyte, which Bridget refused to drink, and all was well.

Until about 1 a.m. when heard her throw up in bed. I cleaned her up and we came downstairs. I got her some water, and we paced around. I could tell by the noises her tummy was making that she wasn’t done getting sick. So we waited and made use of the sink so she didn’t mess up her new jammies. When I got her back to bed, I called Jake. It was only 11-ish where he was. I wasn’t sure if it was just psychological or what but I was starting to not feel so good myself. Normally I can deal with stuff like this with no problem. Cleaning up puke doesn’t make me puke, which I guess is a good quality for a mom to have. But I was realy worried that I have caught her virus and started to freak out about how I was going to take care of her when I was trying to take care of myself.

So I did something I’ve never done before. I asked Jake to come home from his trip early.

And he immediately said ok. We talked on the phone at 11:30 his time and he got himself on a 5:30 a.m. flight home from Seattle. Isn’t he the best? You can commence envying me my wonderful husband.

Now I feel pretty guilty about the whole thing because I have yet to puke and Bridget, while still kind of poopy, seems to be done throwing up and is getting her appetite back little by little. So it seems as though I made him do this for nothing. I feel like the girl who cried puke. What will happen next time I really do need him to come home? Hopefully that won’t happen. I mean, we’ve been together for coming up on nine years and he’s traveled for almost all of it, and I have NEVER once asked him to come home early, despite many house blow ups and illnesses while he was away. Of course since Bridget has been born, I’ve been tempted many times to demand he get his behind home or risk finding the baby in a basket on the porch. I’ve never actually done it. At least not yet.

Bitch, Moan, Complain

My back still hurts but it’s getting better. Since valium let me down the night before last, I just took three advil last night before bed and all was fine. Plus I don’t take anything for sleeping when I’m the only one here with Bridget. I don’t care if I have just lost a limb - I will not medicate if I’m her only caregiver.

I was awakened to men on my roof at 7:30 a.m. I was a bit pissed about this. Especially since this was supposed to be done yesterday. I mean, I’m glad they will hopefully be done early today but that’s a seriously screwed up thing to wake up to.

When I went to Bridget’s room, I immediately knew something was not right. The smell hit me right away. She had had the worst poop blowout she’s ever had. To be perfectly frank (sorry) she had diarrhea for the first time ever in her life. I just threw away the pajamas because… ew, gross. Then it was off to the bath after I got her nasty diaper off.  Poor thing. I never freaked out and continued to speak sweetly to her, but I think she was upset and wondered why the morning bath.

After the cleanup, we came downstairs. She kept asking for milk, which she never does. She’ll drink it, but she rarely asks for it. I gave it to her and asked her what she wanted to eat. With every suggestion, she said no. Again, not like her. Breakfast is her best meal of the day and she loves most breakfast food. Eventually I berated her into cereal and banana. While I was in the laundry room dealing with her sheets and blanket, I heard the tell-tale sound. Yep she threw up. Now, since I wasn’t watching, I have no idea if she threw up just because or if she had her fingers in her mouth again. I asked her if she gagged herself with her fingers and she said yes, but you can’t count on the veracity of that statement. So another cleanup was in order.

Now she’s sitting on a towel on the couch watching Sesame Street (which I believe is in its new season already, to my immense pleasure - I was very sick of the repeats) because I don’t know if either end is going to blow again. The roofers are making a huge ruckus but I don’t feel safe taking her out anywhere just yet.

Mamma might just go a bit nuts today.

We Have a New Roof…. Sort Of

Today the roofers got started bright and early. They had warned me a few weeks back that getting a new roof was loud and that we would not want to be in the house. But they were surprisingly quiet when they got started. I thought I might not need to escape to the refuge of my parents’ house. But apparently the removal of a roof is quiet. The installation of a new roof is not. So we high tailed it out of here, had lunch together, and then went to my parents’ to let Bridget nap.

An unforeseen issue with this whole toddler bed thing is where to put her when we are away from home. I couldn’t bring the pack and play because she can climb out of it. There is no room in my parents’ house that is baby-proofed enough for me to lay her down to nap on a pallet on the floor. So my choices were to sleep in the bed with her or to let her nap on the couch. Neither option went over very well with Bridget. But eventually she did lay down on the couch and slept for almost an hour as I sat at the other end of the couch and read.

When all was said and done, I got home around 7:30 and it seems that my roof is not 100% complete, judging by the rolls of something still up on the roof, the roofers’ trailer in the driveway and the piles of roofing still hanging out. I assume they’ll be back to finish tomorrow. Which is cool, but also well…. where am I going to go tomorrow? I don’t want to spend another day hiding from noise. We’ll see how it goes. I do have some errands to run so I hope they show up and finish before naptime.

But all in all, I’m thrilled to have a new roof with ridge vents which will supposedly cool our attic much more efficiently than any other option and all for…. wait for it…. $350! Finally a home improvement project I’m happy about.

Now I need to call for fence estimates. Sigh. It’s never ending.

Yet Another Bridget-ism, and Why I’m Old

I really need to write these all down throughout the day. I always seem to forget them when I sit down at the computer.

Bridget likes to say Bye Bye to anyone and anything. Even cars on the street. When we turn off the busy street near our house, into our neighborhood, she always says “Bye Bye cars!” And now? It’s “Bye Bye cars! I love you!” Both her car freak grandfathers will be so proud when they hear that.

Lately when we put her to bed for the night or a nap, she loses her shit and cries like the world is ending, but almost every time as Jake or I walk out of the room, she pauses the screaming to say “bye bye Mommy (or Daddy)”  Then she resumes shit-losing. It’s pretty funny.

Anyway, so here’s why I’m old. A few weeks ago, Jake won a contest from Moutain Dew. It was one of those games where you collect the codes from bottle caps and plug them into the contest website and then never win anything. Except he did! He won a stand up video game machine, like from an arcade. I know! It’s very cool. Well, it got delivered today, after minor annoyance with legal documents and tax details. Except they would not carry it up the stairs to our game room, which is where it had to go. Jake leaves for a business trip and I was not about to have this bohemoth hanging out in the family room so we stupidly decided that we could get it up the stairs by ourselves. Except not so much. Well, I take that back. It’s up there. We took a gouge out of the wall, did some damage to the bannister and almost ended up divorced but it’s up there. I came *this* close to throwing my back out. I never knew what that meant before. Really, I just think I severely strained the muscles in my lower back but it hurts so bad that I unconsciously stop myself from moving. It’s not that I can’t bend over any farther, I think my brain just stops my body before it hurts too badly. I can force myself to bend as I need to but ouch! Thankfully this happened at the beginning of Bridget’s nap, and I was able to rest it for the afternoon. It feels somewhat better, and I took a hot bath which is a rare treat, and am now sitting with the heating pad on it. Before bed tonight I’ll take some valium and actually be using it as a muscle relaxer, which is why I have the prescription in the first place. Horrible timing too, because Jake leaves for out of town tomorrow through the end of the week.

Oh, and completely off topic, it rained today for the first time in about two months. The day we were supposed to get a new roof put on. So no new roof today. Maybe tomorrow. But of course Jake will be out of town so you know there will be some foolishness that goes on with that. I’m trying to prepare myself.

More Bridget-isms and Why I Love Our Dog

I forgot to include this on the last post about Bridget.

Today we were all playing in the living room. I love how our “formal” living room has become a play room. Oh well, I’m just glad we have a whole room to use as a toy repository. Not like we would ever have used a formal living room. Anyhoooooo…. playing in the formal living room, and Bridget, in a fit of toddler rage, threw a toy and it hit Robbie right on the snout.

Now, the reason I love my dog is that he did absolutely nothing, other than stand up and look at me like “What the hell did I do?” Bridget got separated from the playing for a few minutes while we petted Robbie and told him what a good boy he is.

When Bridget came back in, she wanted to pet Robbie, and, good boy that he is, he rolled over on his back. And then Bridget pointed at his boy bits and said, “Robbie junk.”  I know I mentioned it before that she noticed Jake’s stuff and called it his junk. I guess I should explain how that came about. We often bring Bridget to bed with us on weekend mornings after she’s been changed, just to hang out and play. And in the course of the playing, she often crawls all over Jake, and he has said a few times “oh, watch out for my junk!” but the said “junk” is always covered by sheets. So it was curious how when she saw him get out of the shower, she knew that was the junk she should be watching out for. Anway, if you are male and you come to our house, watch out because Bridget might just point out your junk.

Time for a Gratuitous Bridget Post

We have a habit of singing silly songs to Bridget, usually to the tune of other songs. We have “Old McBridgie,” ” Bridgie Bear” which is sung to the tune of of “Spiderman,” and “Baby Bum” which sounds like the theme to Two and a Half Men. Another favorite is this, to the tune of the theme from Scooby Doo:

Bridgie, Bridgity Bear
Bridgie, Bridgity Bear
Hey Bridgie, where are you?

Yesterday, Jake was getting Bridget in the car and sang the first two lines to her, and she responded with “Hey Bridgie, where are you?” Nice to know she listens to us.

Bridget is a puzzle fiend now. She has several of those wooden puzzles and it takes her all of 30 seconds to figure them out. She’ll work the same one a few times and then she is bored with it. What’s the next step up from those puzzles? And don’t say darts.

Can I tell you how thrilled I am that Bridget has discovered Mr. and Mrs. Potato Head? She calls them Tato and she puts their tongues on top of their heads and ears in their nose holes, but she loves them and spends a lot of time and concentration on them. So cute.

Lately I’ve been noticing that Bridget is getting a red rash type thing around her mouth. I notice it most after she eats and part of me just thinks it’s due to the wetness because she is drooling all the time lately. But then I consult Dr. Google and think that she’s got all kinds of food allergies. I’m sure it’s most likely the drooling/wetness thing but I’m starting to keep a log of what she eats just in case and will probably call the doctor tomorrow. Who will laugh at me, I’m sure. She has no other symptoms of food allergies really, nothing digestive, no rashes or hives anywhere else. And yet, I jump to the worst conclusion immediately. No one said being a mom helped you be rational.

Oh and the most charming thing? She now says “I love you Daddy” and “I love you Mommy.”  Doesn’t that just melt your icy heart?

Have I Mentioned That I Hate My Orthodontist?

Orthodontists I think in general are not used to adult patients. Or at least mine isn’t. He does not speak TO me, he speaks to his staff over me. And he mumbles. Tuesday of this past week, I went in bright and early, sporting a horrible case of PMS to begin with. But then he got all stern with me about how apparently he’s spoken to me three visits ago about my tongue thrust. And I said, “yes, we discussed it about my front teeth and I stopped doing it.” He replied sternly that no, we discussed it about all my teeth, and now I’m undoing the good we’ve done on the side teeth. Then he said “we might just have to send you to a speech pathologist if you can’t get it under control,” like he was threatening me with punishment. Now, I realize that the PMS was probably a big factor but I got so mad at him, I almost started crying. (Don’t get me started about how much it pisses me off that when I get angry I start to cry. How pathetic is that) The PMS is gone now, but I’m still really angry. Being put back in rubber bands has not helped my anger at the situation, since it can take me close to an hour to get the little bastards on there correctly. And I have so much spare time to waste putting rubber bands on my teeth.

But I still think I was justified in my anger. I’m actually considering changing orthodontists because of how much I dislike him. He never explains anything he is doing or why. When I ask, he gets all put out about it, like I am taking up too much of his precious time. All he does is come out of his office, stick a mirror in my mouth and tell me to bite down, and then his staff does all the work he tells them to do. I think his staff knows what I’m getting at because as soon as he leaves, they will actually talk to me and tell me what’s going on.I realize that most of his teenage patients don’t give a shit why they have to wear rubber bands or what the point of them is, but this is my money I’m spending and I want to know. And I think I have a right to know.

Oh, and while he is basically ignoring me, I get to stare at his gaudy gold Rolex.  The one patients like me have paid for.  How about a little appreciation for that fact?

So I have four weeks until my next visit to decide if I’m going to change. In the meantime, I have to figure out a way to make my tongue less wide than it is so that it doesn’t push my side teeth when I swallow. I’m not exactly sure how one does that but I guess it’s up to me to figure out.

I honestly wish I’d never done this.