Just pee already!

It would probably be more enjoyable for all of us to have a sweet update on baby Jedi, how he is deliciously fat, smiley and fitting in with our family very well.

Buuuuuuut.....instead I'm going to tell you about how Gizmo makes me see red, and how the toddler stage sucks, and how I hate it so hard.

Gizmo has been potty training for a few weeks now. Really, he is pretty good at it. I haven't had to do hardly anything. That's the best kind of potty training. (Moms, my advice to you is: if you try potty training, and you are putting in more work than your toddler, then stop and try again in a few more weeks or months!)

We only very rarely have accidents. Of course, I am still doing diapers when we go out for over an hour. And, of course, the only accidents we do have include a horrible mess to clean up (like peeing on my couch, or pants full of crap).

Recently, we started putting Gizmo to bed in his underwear. It started as a mistake. But when he woke up dry and was able to get to the potty to pee, we figured we'd try it more often.

But this morning, Gizmo refused to pee on the potty. I let it slide for a bit, and went ahead and served him breakfast. After his food was gone, I asked him again to go potty. He refused. So I told him that he would be grounded from the tv until he peed in the potty. But rather than deciding it would be a good idea to pee in the potty afterall, he decided to throw a tantrum.

Now, I am not a patient mother. I am a big time yeller. And when a toddler flops all over me in an irrational meltdown, especially while I'm trying to nurse a baby, I get especially ragey.

After about 20 minutes, I had almost completely lost my cool. I was able to lay Jedi down (asleep, by some miracle) and I carried Gizmo to the bathroom, stripped his pants off, and perched him on the toilet seat. (His preferred method of eliminating is squatted with his feet on the seat.) And still, he refused to pee. He climbed down, and I put him back. I told him that he could not leave the bathroom until he peed.

We fought and fought and apparently I was losing, because the kid wasn't peeing in the potty. So I started yelling.

"WHY WON'T YOU JUST PEE ALREADY!?! IF YOU WANT TO GO PLAY! ALL YOU HAVE TO DO IS PEE IN THE POTTY!!! WHY DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND THAT!?!?"

And then, over an hour after waking up and holding it in, Gizmo lost control of his bladder. But he wasn't all the way on the toilet. And he still didn't want to be peeing. So he got pee everywhere. The floor, the toilet seat, his legs, his feet, his shirt, and his hands...grasping himself in a desperate attempt to defy the command to pee in the potty.

And then I lost it all over again, because there is no rational reason for that mess to have happened, and I was going to have to clean it all up. Toddlers are always irrational.

No Promises

It seems that I have fallen...hard...off the blogging bandwagon! I have no promises that I will be jumping back on with this post. But today I feel at least a little bit motivated to share bits and pieces from my life over the past 5 months. (I have still been reading the blogs that I love, via Google Reader on my tablet. That means that I haven't been able to comment, but I have been there!)

About two weeks after we moved to Charlotte, my genetic predisposition to depression kicked in and started making my life pretty miserable. I was so excited to live in a new place. To be able to establish my identity with my new family (far enough from parents and people who have known me since I was "yea high"). The weather was warm and beautiful. There was (still is) green everywhere...even more than I was used to back in Ohio.

But, I felt like I was having trouble making friends. I missed my family. I missed my grocery stores. I didn't know the roads. I got frustrated with the kids (who weren't handling the move very well). I got frustrated with my husband (who wasn't handling the move very well). And I realized maybe I wasn't handling the move very well.

I am too stubborn though, and I tried to just push through. I gained at least 10 pounds. I wore my throat out almost daily, yelling at the kids. I cried....a lot. I argued with my husband. My depression manifested as anger and irritability. (You know, in addition to poor eating habits, poor sleeping habits, unexplained crying, lack of motivation to do things like exercise/shower/brush teeth). I was in a bad place.

Finally, last month, I put down my foot and let the Hubby know that something needed to be done....before I did serious damage to myself or my family. (Of course, I just wanted the quickest med to fix my problem.) My wonderful husband, however, knew that his hippie of a wife would not want to be on medication, and started looking for an alternative. He quickly found a homeopathic doctor, scheduled an appointment for me, and took the day off work to accompany me to the appointment.

The doctor was great. She was cheerful and asked very thorough questions to be able to understand my depression. She gave me a homeopathic remedy and gave me some supplements to take, in addition to the vitamins I was already taking. Every morning, I take my remedy (lycopodium). With breakfast, I take a women's multi vitamin, EFA oil, Emergen-C, and 100mg of 5-htp. I take more 5-htp with lunch. And with dinner I take a B-complex and another 5-htp. If I am feeling pretty good, I skip my lunch dose.

Surprisingly, I noticed within a week that things were improving. I felt like myself again. I had more patience with my kids. More love for my husband. And a more positive outlook on all of my previous problems! I did notice though, that my routine only turns me into a normal person. It isn't a miracle "happy all the time" thing. And I am still subject to normal emotions (including mood swings, although much less frequently), especially during my normal PMS week. But being a normal person is a significant improvement on being a mopey, miserable, depressed person! I have started watching my calorie intake and exercising frequently (although the scale hasn't given me any encouragement). And I have even pulled out some of my crafts that I used to love working on.

Over the past 5 months (since I last wrote on this blog), I have attended the wedding of one of my younger sisters. Celebrated Bug's 4th birthday. Celebrated Hubby's 27th birthday. Caught a lizard on my porch, and used it to teach Bug and Gizmo about reptiles. Cleaned up about a million messes (mostly courtesy of Gizmo...our resident Lord of Chaos). Gently encouraged Bug that he should let his "ahhhh...soooo cuuuute" spider live outside. Cleaned and bleached after our downstairs toilet flooded the bathroom, laundry room, pantry and half the kitchen. Received a nasty note from an anonymous neighbor about how our property is an "eyesore". Revamped the outside of our house (that we are only renting, by the way). Took Bug and Gizmo to visit family in Ohio for a week, all by myself (worst vacation ever). Talked to Bug about why he cannot put Gizmo in the garbage, just because Gizmo can be mean. Listened to a million hilariously mispronounced words (courtesy of Bug). Gained a nephew (the first on my side of the family....I seriously cannot wait to meet him in a few weeks). Listened to Bug sing a goodnight some to Gizmo: "I love you, Gizmo. I don't want to put you in the garbage. Sorry for saying that last night. I love you, Gizmo. Goodnight." Avoided cleaning our mess of a house a million times...and then actually cleaned it about half a million times. Had a million sleepless nights (courtesy of Gizmo, our resident Lord of Poor Sleeping Habits). Weaned Gizmo from nursing. Got on a supplement routine to treat my depression. Went to the beach for a single day (and got gloriously sunburned). Discovered Adele. Celebrated my 5th wedding anniversary with my wonderful husband. Celebrated Gizmo's 2nd birthday. Dealt with jealous envy of every pregnant woman in the world. Found a lost snuggle bear, which was received with a very heartwarming "thank you, mommy. I love you!" And cleaned a million more messes. 

(Thank you, FB timeline, for helping me remember all the stuff I've been doing lately!)

I know this post is a bit long and....erm....depressing-ish. And lacking the normal humor of my regular posts. But, maybe.....juuuuust maybe....I will start sharing stories again. Maybe. No promises!

On the move. On the table.

Bug and Gizmo are very different, but at times, so very alike. Bug was....is....very physically active. And hyperactive. Gizmo seems to be just as physically active as Bug, but he is so much more mellow about it. Or maybe just quieter about it? I can't really tell. It just seems that his physical milestones are less in-your-face than Bug's were....in a different way than the "Oh, he's just the second one, so you don't notice as much" kind of way.

Gizmo started walking withing the past two weeks or so. It started out with just two or three steps in between over enthusiastic family members. Then he started taking more steps, moving from the couch to a toy in the middle of the room.

Now he can walk quite a bit without grabbing onto anything. And he stands up on his own, too.

Of course, if you notice him and give him praise, he gets really excited....which apparently shuts off his balance completely. Then he will stand up, fall, stand up, fall, stand up, take two steps, fall...all while flapping his arms with joy and grinning like a maniac.

This morning, while I was making a pie, I head Bug sternly telling Gizmo, "No Gizmo! No climbing! My water!!!" I turned around and Gizmo was ON THE TABLE!!!! Our kitchen table. Apparently, he had used a stuffed animal as a stepping stool onto a chair that was pushed out, and then from the chair climbed onto the table. And he was about to dump Bug's cup of water everywhere, right before I intervened.

I have to admit, I was shocked to see Gizmo up there. He isn't even 11 months yet (just 5 more days for that), and he climbed onto our table! Without me noticing until he was up there! I actually shut him out of the bathroom this morning while I took my shower....I'm just beginning to realize that might have been an unwise decision. I guess I'll have to start making sure chairs are all pushed in before I leave Gizmo to play by himself for longer than 2 minutes! But then I'm sure he'll find something else dangerous to climb on!

Who doesn't love chocolate ice cream?

When my mom tells me that she misses my blog....I guess it's time to sit down and type up a post. (Where the HECK has my motivation gone???) And I have a list of nearly a dozen post ideas, so I really have absolutely no excuse.

A friend of mine had a baby 10 weeks ago. She had invited me to attend the birth, but due to unfortunate circumstances, I couldn't get a babysitter to watch my kids, so I couldn't go. And 7 weeks later, I still hadn't had a chance to meet the new baby. So, we marked our calenders and got our butts over there! I tell you what, I don't understand the fertile-aged woman who can hold a tiny baby and -NOT- have a pang in her ovaries to have a[nother] baby! Gizmo is over nine months now, so I can have a baby any time and he'll definitely be in nursery by the time the baby comes. (Every LDS mom knows how nice that is, right?) Alas, I guess things will have to wait a bit longer before we have another one, though. 'Cause no matter how much those dang ovaries of mine are panging, they are the servants of my breastfeeding relationship with Gizmo....who says "no baby yet".

But that isn't the point of this post. I just can't get over how cute and tiny new babies are, and how much I really want another one.

So, we were visiting with friends. We ate dinner. We talked. We ate chocolate ice cream with brownies. We let the kids (minus the tiny baby) run around and play. We sat at the table to play a card game (Bohnanza anyone?). Then, my friend's sister (who lives in the household) came home. She walked into the kitchen...which is right by where we were playing cards and -totally- visable to us....and exclaimed, "Oh, hello!"

There was Gizmo. On the floor. With a bowl of Bug's chocolate ice cream remains over his face.

He had chocolate ice cream all over his face. All over his hands. All over the floor. And he was sad to see it go when we took it away and cleaned up the mess.

Apparently, Bug left his bowl on the stool he was sitting on, and Gizmo was just tall enough to reach it. And he knew he needed to be stealthy. We had no idea what was happening just 6 feet away!

But who can blame him? It was chocolate ice cream!!

'cared more!

Every now and then, I have one of those mothering moments that makes me laugh....and then promptly makes me feel bad for laughing.

Last night, The Hubs put Bug down to sleep with a bedtime read. Bug hadn't had a nap all day, so he was more than ready for bed. He actually kicked Hubby out of his bedroom before the Hubs was even done reading his chapter! Thinking that we were finally ready to get some semi-alone time (depending on how quickly Gizmo fell asleep), the Hubs and I were quickly brushing our teeth before jumping into bed....when all the sudden I heard Bug crying and running to our door. Then he was frantically trying to open our bedroom door, while screaming and pounding in terror.

I rushed to open the door to soothe him and take him back to bed.

"Loud! 'cared! [scared]" he cried in between his desperate sobs. I could practically feel the energy coursing through his little body, trying to escape from the fear that he was feeling.

I was thinking over all the reasons he could be so terrified. I could hear a lawn mower outside, but I wasn't sure that was the culprit. With Bug in my arms, I marched back to his bedroom. I ran into the door, then fumbled with the knob in the dark, trying to get it open.

"Beep-bee-beep! Beep-bee-beep! Beep-bee-beep!" It was the sound of the alarm clock. I flipped the light on and walked over to the table where the clock was dangling over the edge by its cord. I turned the offending noise off and stifled a giggle.

I don't know why the clock's alarm was turned on, but Bug certainly wasn't expecting such a rude awakening just moments after he fell asleep! I plopped him back in his bed as Hubby removed the offending alarm clock from Bug's room. We turned the lights back off and I sang Bug a song. I told him that he didn't have to be scared anymore, to which he whined, "'cared more!" along with a few after-cry hiccups. I calmly explained what had happened and then I asked him to say a prayer. He did, then requested that I say one, too. After kisses, hugs and several "goodnight"s, I crept out of the room and left Bug to fall asleep again.

As soon as I got back into my room, I looked at the Hubs and started laughing. "Poor kid!" we both lamented.

Cranky Hag

There should be a rule, that if you are in a consistently bad mood for over 48 hours within three weeks of your due date, your body should kick into labor and just birth that baby!

I have been in a bad mood for nearly three weeks now. Honestly, I have been foul. And, because I don't swear, the only word to describe me would be "hag". (And don't tell me I'm not a hag, because I've been living with myself for these three weeks that I've been acting this way...and I've been a hag.) I think I've been throwing more tantrums than my two year old. I struggle to show even the tiniest bit of affection. I don't want to do anything. I'm exhausted. I have absolutely no patience...which means that I have been yelling at Bug for the smallest things.

Today, around lunch time (which means I was hungry, and tired...because nap time is right after lunch), I was actually so irritated with everything that my body was shaking. I had to put myself in a time out so I wouldn't do something that I would regret.

I know emotions like these are "normal" in late pregnancy....but I hate it. PLEASE come now, little baby!

Sleep Sharing Bliss

"You don't know what you've got 'til it's gone", right?

The other night I had an epiphany. I love sharing my bed with my kid.

It was one of those days. You know, the kind that starts early in the morning and doesn't include an afternoon nap....or any nap for that matter. So, around 7:48pm, Bug turned into a whining, screaming, thrashing, fighting, terrorizing, monster. Oh, it was bad.

Unfortunately, I kept getting caught up in things around me (like planning our trip to Texas, or cleaning up the water that Bug got all over the bathroom, or realizing that I let my Red Raspberry Leaf tea steep for nearly two hours...). So, it wasn't until 8:15pm that I realized I needed to just stop and put the kid to sleep. And, since he's been sleeping in his own bed, I needed to get him to sleep without laying down next to him. Let me tell you, it is ridiculously difficult to calm a tantruming toddler, when you are trying to sit in a squeaky glider and you have no room on your lap (due to your hugely pregnant belly) and you are so exhausted that it's hard to contain the toddler's flailing arms and legs. I may or may not have swatted his butt a couple of times to get him to pay attention to me. I think I got lucky, though. Because after singing two songs, I was able to transfer Bug to his own bed, and he stayed asleep.

Later that night, when the hubs and I went to bed, Bug briefly woke up and started crying (because Bug's bed is at the foot of our bed...and the hubs has a noisy electric toothbrush). We quickly calmed him down again, and he stayed in his bed. But, then, as I was laying in my own bed, I could hear the post-cry hiccups that Bug had, even in his sleep. It made my heart ache to hold him close, so he would know that his mommy loves him. Really, REALLY, really loves him. (In fact, I was aching so much, and telling my husband all about it, the he even offered to get Bug and bring him to bed with us! I have such a sensitive and loving husband!!!)

And I realized that, although I complained all the time about sharing a bed with Bug, I loved it. Because it was a time where I could give Bug 100% of my attention. If he needed anything, I was right next to him to help. When we were nursing, the breast was right there for him. Even if he wasn't nursing, I could offer him his sippy cup. And there was always a soft and warm body there, letting him know that he was safe and secure. I can't offer that kind of parenting during the day, no matter how hard I try. And I must admit, I don't often try. I -want- to be able to offer my child everything he needs. I want him to know that he is loved, and that he is safe. I want him to be comfortable.  But it isn't always a reasonable option during the hustle and bustle of the day.

And THAT is why I love sharing my bed.

Reverently, Quietly

Every Sunday, I am reminded of why I dread Sundays.

I LOVE going to church. I have a stronger testimony of the gospel than I have ever had. I love to partake of the Sacrament to renew the covenants that I have made with my Heavenly Father. I enjoy teaching the sweet CTR 8 class (the 7 year old kids that have almost all turned 8 by this time of the year). I love socializing with the other members of my ward. I am happy to have a reason to dress up nicely, do my hair and wear make up. I love having my husband with me nearly all day long.

But....I don't like trying to keep Bug reverent and quiet during Sacrament meeting. The hubs thinks Sundays are great now that Bug is old enough to go into nursery for the last two hours of church. Unfortunately, nursery doesn't take care of the first hour.

I bring assorted snacks. A full sippy cup. Books. Puppets. Pens. Paper. LDS action figures (which are actually made by a Brother in my very ward!). And other toys. They don't work. Bug throws things. Whines. Screams, sometimes. Crawls around. And does everything he can to be generally disruptive and very irreverent.

I struggle to keep Bug as quiet and reverent as possible. Then, when my hair starts to get too messed up, and my face is flushed with the effort...Bug gets taken out to the hallway, by either the husband or myself. It is so embarrassing to have to leave the chapel so often. Because, you know when you come back in, Bug will only last five more minutes before he needs to be taken out again.

Sometimes, I feel like I am the only mom with a psychotic non-reverent, non-quiet kid. Please tell me you guys have irreverent kids, too!!!

Spit it out...NOW

With WBW come and gone, I have gotten on a roll with posting daily. (Really, I typed and scheduled all my posts for WBW, which means I haven't really blogged all week. And every time I have wanted to sit down and blog something, I remembered I already had posts ready for the week...and I just don't do more than one post a day. So, I have several pretty good stories from this past week to fill up my blogging needs for a while now!)

Here's one of those good stories.

Bug loves getting on the computer and playing with everything on the desk and in the drawers. I mean, he LOVES it. Usually, I tell him he isn't allowed, and I keep the chair pushed into the desk. Other times (usually after a massive melt down on Bug's part, and no patience on my part), I just let him up there to play and I sit on the couch with a good book. It keeps him entertained for a while. Plus, I'm married to a computer guy, so if Bug seriously screws something up, I know I have someone coming over to fix it around 6pm.

Eventually, Bug will get off the computer and run around playing with all his other toys (or all of my other belongings that he thinks are his toys). And, eventually, I get a whiff of that lovely smell that reminds me I'm a mom, and I should probably change Bug's diaper before I start the next chapter in my book.

So, that's where I was, down on the floor getting out a diaper and wipes, trying to coax Bug over to me with my best motherese. But Bug wouldn't come near me. He had that look on his face that told me he was doing something wrong....and I could tell he had something in his mouth. Hmm....sometimes he looks like that and I try to fish whatever it is out of his mouth, only to realize it is a cheerio or piece of a graham cracker. (Of course, I always wonder what he just finished doing to make him look so guilty before he put the little snack in his mouth.) However, my intuition told me that what he had in his mouth this time was something that shouldn't have been in there. I held my hand out and told him to come spit whatever it was out. He, hesitantly but obediently, walked over to me and spat out, with a great streaming strand of saliva and spit bubbles.....

Eight safety pins and a paper clip.

Independence Day weekend

I know I'm probably the last person the finally do some sort of post about Independence Day. I kept flip-flopping back and forth about whether or not to actually do a post about our weekend. Then, I decided that too much happened that would make all those perfect moms out there cringe, and I just have to type it all out. For posterity, at least. And to add to my award collection.

Friday, July 3rd, we went to the park for a picnic. We actually just ate a bunch of junk food while sitting in the car. Then we took Bug over to the slides. We had taken him on slides before, and he really enjoyed them. This time, the slides generated a massive amount of static electricity. Seriously, any neighboring farms could hook up their cow fences to the playground and pay kids to go down the slide all day long. The hubs would go down the slide, then come kiss me. Then he would do it again. Every stinkin' time, the shock was massive! By the time we left, I could feel tingly specks all over my face. And we even gave a couple kisses to Bug. He would just look at us with shock on his face (har, har!). Yeah, what the heck was that? That, my son, is called static electricity.

On Independence Day, we went to the Cincinnati Museum Center. It was rainy all day, so it was nice to do something fun indoors. The museum had a dinosaur exhibit that we went to, and it had HUGE (I guess life size?) robot dinosaurs that would move and roar at you when you walked past. Luckily, Bug didn't even cry. But I'm wondering if he will have nightmares about raging dinos of death now. That, my son, is called biological history.

After the dinosaur exhibit, we also took Bug to the children's museum. He had a great time with water and sand and plastic balls. (Even though there were other kids always in the way, and we had to keep moving around if we wanted him to experience more things.) They have a whole area full of balls that you can play with, along with awesome contraptions to make it more fun. Bug's favorite was a vacuum tube that you held a ball underneath, and it would suck the ball up and into a big ball container. It was pretty neat. That, my son, is called physics.

That night, we went to fireworks. Oh yeah, I did mention it was rainy all day? Right? We went anyway. We were sitting pretty far back, but the rainy mist still brought all kinds of ash down on top of us. My face looked like I had crawled through a chimney by the time we walked back to our car (which took us twenty minutes, I might add). And huge clouds of sulfur-smelling smoke rolled over us after a particularly large display. Bug didn't like the fireworks too much. They were pretty, but they were loud. And it was cold. And wet. And ashy. And smoky. And smelly. And late. So Bug hung out underneath the blanket and nursed the whole time. That, my son, is called pyrotechnics.

Then, on Sunday, we were watching the Swiss Family Robinson when Bug stuck his finger in an outlet. Poor little guy cried. But he wasn't seriously hurt. And he had fun playing with the stethoscope we got out to check his little heartbeat. (Don't you all have functional stethoscopes laying around your house?) That, my son, is more than just static electricity!

I'm beginning to wonder if Bug will really like hands on learning by the time he's ready for formal education!?

And to top off the crazy weekend, Bug is teething again. This time, it's a big bad tooth. So, bring on the snot and the whining. We can handle it.

My kid is better than your kid

Oh yeah, I said it. My kid is better than your kid is. Sorry. That's just the way it's gotta be. My kid will always be cuter, smarter, faster, stronger, more advanced in every way. I don't know how it works out like that, but it does. Really.

Bug started walking about a week and a half ago. He's only 9 1/2 months old. Well....technically, he isn't really "walking" yet. But, he can take about 3 steps on his own. He thinks he is pretty hot stuff, too. Sometimes, when he pulls himself up to standing next to me, he will let go and just stand on his own for a little while. And he ALWAYS looks up at me like he just invented fire.

So, in one week, my sister-in-law is coming to town with her kiddos. Her youngest is 17 hours older than Bug. He isn't quite crawling yet. My hubby and I have been trying to get Bug to walk all on his own by the time they get here. Ya know, for the bragging rights!? (I'm blaming it all on my hubby and sibling rivalry.)

I know, I know. I should be smitten down for being so horrible. I know, I know. Kids all develop at different rates, and my next kid probably won't walk until 18 months, just to teach me some humility. But, dang it all! I'm sure my next kids will still be better than yours!!!

That's Sweet

I am really into exclusively breastfeeding my babies for at least the first 6 months, and then breastfeeding until my baby weans on his own. Really, I kind of just watch my baby for clues as to how he wants to eat. So far, Bug has only had solid foods a handful of times. He is usually just more interested in playing with the food...or the spoon. That's fine with me. But, I've made a rule that he is only allowed to have single ingredient foods for now, if he chooses to eat. He does great with banana! Of course, he does still choke on most stuff. That's why I'm OK with him just nursing!

Well, Christmas 'tis the season for sugar and sweets. And lots of junk left on the floor. My family went to my in-law's house on Christmas day, and Bug was sitting on the floor as we all opened our family gifts. My brother-in-law had left his stash of candy from that morning on the floor, just next to where Bug was sitting. Of course, Bug found a nice piece of butterscotch candy to mouth. I wasn't too worried about it. It was still in the wrapper, and Bug had a good hold of it. I kept my eye on him, to make sure that he didn't lose his grip. Eventually, we all thought that Bug might be enjoying the taste of that candy wrapper a little bit too much. Even though I had just checked a minute ago, and the wrapper was all intact, I checked again....

And what do you know, Bug had torn a little hole in the wrapper, and was sucking on that little piece of butterscotch candy!!!! I took it right away from him, and tried to give him something else to play with. He was not happy with that, at all! He screamed and screamed! I felt like a horrible mom, and a total hypocrite for allowing Bug to eat candy (especially because I gave MY mom a hard time just the other day about giving Bug some mashed potatoes that had butter and milk in them!) Luckily, I was able to laugh about the situation. And apparently, butterscotch is even better than mama's milk!

Bad Mom Award

I KNOW a lot of people who read this edition are going to think really poorly of me. But, hey, that is why it's under the "Bad Mom Award" category. Maybe you can call Children's Protective Services on me, eh!?

So, my little family lives in a crappy apartment. Every day I spend here at home, I hate it even more. Just the other day, to brighten my mood, they turned the water off....for the eighth time in 4 months. Just perfect for a stay-at-home mom, you know!? I can't do the dishes, or laundry (Oh, the diapers!!!!), or use the restroom, or even cook for that matter! Luckily, my little sister was able to come and get me and Bug, and take us over to my parents' house.

We put the car seat in her little car, and drove away. [Just a side note: We use a convertible car seat, not an infant car seat.] When we were about halfway to my parents' house (it is only a 15 minute drive away, so it wasn't that long) I looked back at Bug....

I had to do a little scream, because Bug's car seat WAS LEANING PRACTICALLY SIDEWAYS!!!!! What the heck!?!?! I reached back and corrected it, and held it in place the rest of the way. I went over and over in my mind how I buckled it in and tightened everything, and made sure everything was in place. Why on earth would it lean over like that?!? And more than that, why didn't Bug alert me when he toppled over?!?!

Once we got to my parents' house, I checked the seat. It was still buckled in correctly. I'm not exactly sure why it DID lean over. But everyone was safe. And why didn't Bug let me know what was going on? Well, of course, because he was fast asleep!

Bad Mom Award

As I casually mentioned before, here is the story of my first Bad Mom Award...yeah, the one where I got Children's Protective Services (CPS) called on me during my son's first couple weeks of life.

I am not much of a believer in "well baby" doctor visits. I think it is just a ploy for the doctors to get more money. Nonetheless, I did take my little guy into the the doctor when he was about a week old. (Actually, he was 6 days old when I took him into the office.) I hadn't picked out a pediatrician yet, and I thought it would be better to just pick a family doctor, so the whole family could go to the same doc, if we needed it. So, I just picked a family practice that was relatively close.

I sat in the office and nursed Bug while I was waiting for the doctor to come. She finally arrived, and started checking out my little man. After doing some checking, she asked me, "Do you think your son looks yellow?" I was thinking to myself, through all my postpartum hormonal thoughts, why would she ask ME, if SHE is the doctor!!?! I responded as honestly as I could, "Well, just a little. But I'm around him all the time, so not really. Other people have said he does look a little bit jaundiced." "WELL [said with an I'm-smart-you're-dumb attitude], he is!" She then proceeded to tell me I needed to get his bilirubin levels checked -immediately-! I wasn't too concerned, and I was already going in to take a school final that day (which was a big mistake in in itself), but I told the doctor I would do it, before she totally lost her head. Seriously, she was already formulating a treatment plan!

So, I endured the heel prick and crying of my poor baby boy. I was told that the lab would contact me and the doctor's office within the next 24 hours. The day went by, with a missed call from the doctor, I never got around to calling her back. The next day I get a call from the doctor, again, asking what was going on with the tests. I told her I had no idea. She then lectured to me about how important this was, and how jaundice can cause brain damage. (I later found out that she also called my "emergency number" at my parent's house, because she couldn't get a hold of me on the first try). So I called the lab, and they gave me Bug's bili levels. There were at 12.9-which isn't high enough yet for treatment. I called the doctor to let her know, but she was still wigging out and demanded that I make another appointment with her to get an order for another heel prick for Bug. I was NOT enthused about that idea, and I told her I didn't think it was necessary. She continued to tell me how serious this was, and how important it was, and how dangerous it was. She kept throwing out the brain damage card. I told her I would call later to reschedule an appointment. I didn't.

In the meantime, I did call a pediatrician's office. I asked the nurse about jaundice and bili levels. She said the ped would probably order another test to make sure the levels were going down, but as long as the baby is eating well, pooping regularly, and not lethargic, everything was most likely fine. Well, check, definitely check, and absolutely check all three of those tests. I was confident that Bug would recover from his jaundice in no time, and with no complications.

The next day, the doctor calls me. "Mama, you were supposed to bring Bug in so I could order another test for his jaundice." I was really nervous, because I HATE talking on the phone...plus, I knew I was about to fire this doctor for being an incompetent spaz that loved to harass new mothers. I sucked it up, and tried to keep my voice steady as I told her that I thought she was wrong and unprofessional, that I had contacted another doctor, I would no longer be seeing her, and that she should expect contact soon to transfer Bug's records. She asked me what doctor I was going to take him to (which I later found out is against HIPAA laws for her to ask that. Luckily, I told her that I would not disclose that information!) After a long pause, she said, "Well, I'm just afraid that your son has brain damage." [emphasis added]. EXCUSE ME!?!?! HAS?!?!? Absolutely nothing warrants that! No doctor is going to tell me, without any evidence, that my son HAS brain damage. I sternly told her that I did NOT agree, and then I hung up.

A day or so later, CPS knocks on my door and handed me my Bad Mom Award. Thank you, thank you! I'd like to thank my jaundiced son, and most importantly, my idiot doctor! I couldn't have done it without you!

And the update: Apparently CPS realized that the "concern" was bogus, because I haven't had any trouble with them since. Although, I will remain on record with them for 3 years. Such is life. I did go to the new pediatrician. He is great. Bug hasn't been back since he was just over a month old though, because he is healthy as can be. His jaundice cleared up quickly. And guess what, they haven't called me to tell me that they think my son has brain damage!

[If any readers in my area are interested to know who the idiot doctor is, so they can avoid her, her name is Dr. Cynthia Villacis, with Goshen Family Practice.]

Bad Mom Award

I am starting another repeat title, because I know stuff like this will happen often: I have officially experienced feeling like a HORRIBLE mom. Which is major, because I didn't even feel like a horrible mom when Children's Protective Services showed up at my door (long story there...and a possible future "Bad Mom Award" post)!

I was holding Bug on my lap while sitting at the computer, and he was bouncing up and down. Then, he leaned forward...very quickly. I wasn't able to catch him quite in time, so he whacked his little face into the edge of the desk and acquired his first black eye. It's really just below his eye, and it doesn't look TOO bad. But, way to go me, right!?! Every time I look at him now, I feel so sad because of the desk shaped imprint on him little cheek! It is pretty small, but he has a small face, too! Bug was such a trooper, though. He cried for only a minute...while I was frantically getting myself prepared to nurse him back into a happy state of bliss. After nursing, he was just fine...even with the bruise! Breast milk is magic!