When it rains, it pours…part 2

So as mentioned before, the week (which is now a little ways past…sorry for the delay), continued to be an adventure.  Thursday brought more barfing, but Friday and Saturday seemed to promise some much needed normalcy.  We were so optimistic that we actually rented a movie, I know, CRAZY right?  Somebody stop us, we might go to bed at 10:30!  We put the kid down to sleep and went downstairs to our little home theater to enjoy the show.

Not 45 seconds after starting the movie Claire started crying.  The hubby ran upstairs to get her, and I decided to follow in order to assist where needed.  Now, let me pause a moment to describe our basement.  It’s not particularly large, most of it we recently finished.  When you come down the stairs you are met by a door to our unfinished laundry/storage room and then there is a short hallway to our entertainment room.  As I was running down the hall to the stairs I noticed a grayish rope sticking out under the laundry room door, which I found extremely odd since I didn’t remember us having a gray rope.

I stopped dead in my tracks.  We don’t have a gray rope.  We especially don’t have a gray rope with scales.

My heart started pounding and I raced up to the baby’s room where the hubby was trying to console her.

With a shaking voice I said, “You need to come downstairs right now…we have a SNAKE in our basement!”

The hubby’s face went white and all three of us raced back downstairs to see that the SNAKE (shudder!) had fully revealed itself and was just chillin’ in our hallway.

We were paralyzed.  Never in my entire life have I had any type of reptile in my home.  I never really thought I was afraid of snakes, until I saw one in my home. Hubby hates snakes with a passion.  Not quite as much as he hates mice and rats, but snakes are right up there for him.  We just stood on the steps, mouths agape, and wondered what on earth we were supposed to do next.  We couldn’t kill it with a shovel, blood would get all over the carpet.  That meant we had to catch it.  Ugh!

We took turns watching the snake and running around the house to find something to put it in, however, while it was on my watch it got tired of hanging out in the hallway and quickly slithered back under the laundry room door  and into the mess of the storage room, all while I stood there screeching and clutching at the baby.

We couldn’t find it in the storage room.  It really seems to have disappeared into some small hiding space, and we’re too afraid to go poking around with much gusto.  We created an entire fortress around the base of the door in an attempt to keep it from escaping and prayed that it would go out the way it came in (which is a mystery to us, since we have no idea how it got in).  My brave sisters came over the next day and poked around, but we couldn’t find anything.

So now we still have a snake in our basement.  It’s been almost 2 weeks.  Doing laundry is a two man job as one person has to stand guard as the other throws clothes around as fast as humanly possible.  The sucky thing about snakes is there is no real easy way to get rid of them.  You have to either catch it or kill it.  There’s no such thing as snake traps or snake poison.  Yuck yuck yuck!  Someone pointed out that at least we won’t have mice in our basement.  Yeah, way to see the bright side…we don’t have mice, we just have a 20 inch long SNAKE!  No biggie!  The person who pointed that out is apparently some sort of snake enthusiast and said that it’s no big deal, we just have to hope that it isn’t a female that is going to give birth to a whole LITTER of snakes IN OUR HOUSE!  Yeah, no big deal.

Hang on for a second while I hyperventilate.

So, there you have it.  Snake in the house, mystery to where it has gone.  Possible infestation of baby snakes on the horizon.

So how are your holidays shaping up?

Tags: gross stuff, phobias, snakes

When it rains, it pours

I totally fell off of the NaBloPoMo wagon.  I was doing so well, too!  Oh well, there’s always next year.  This year a little thing called life got in the way, I’m afraid.

Last weekend I got a flat tire that couldn’t be fixed, and since my car needed new tires anyway we had to deal with the whole rigmarole of arranging driving and all that fun stuff until we could finally take my car in on Tuesday, which also happened to be the day that I was irrational and emotional, probably due to lack of sleep and hormones, and the hubby was the same way so that equaled out to some marital discord.

The previous night, Monday, all was going fairly well (except the car thing) and since the hubby had to pick me up from work he thought it would be nice for us to go out for a family dinner to my favorite restaurant.  We didn’t have a baby-sitter or anything, but figured Claire would be just fine and would enjoy getting out for a bit.  Everything started off great- Claire was happy watching all the people and playing with crayons and we were enjoying our salads and bread.  I look up from my salad to glance at Claire in her high chair and HOLY CRAP!  She’s spewing vomit everywhere! Not a sound did she make, nor was there any inclination whatsoever of her not feeling good.  But out of the blue she starts barfing copious amounts,which is a mystery to me, since she was still avoiding eating that day.

I grabbed all the napkins I could find, including ones off of other peoples’ tables in an attempt to catch/clean up some of the mess.  The poor girl is crying pretty hard now and we’re trying to figure out a way to get her to the bathroom without smearing puke all over ourselves, all the while pretending that all the other diners aren’t staring at us in horror.  I finally managed to escape to the restroom, strip her down, clean her up, and put her in the spare onesie in the diaper bag.  We hung out in there for a little while, just in case, and when I felt the coast was clear we headed back to the table.  However, the second I rounded the corner and approached our table…

“BLEEEEEHHHHH!!   WAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!”

She barfed again.  Back to the restroom we went, leaving the hubby to get everything boxed up and in the car.  So much for the nice evening.  One of those things you put under the “WHY DO WE EVEN TRY?” category.

I do have to pause for a second though and mention that while I was in the restroom with my crying, half-naked, smelly child that I felt very grateful for the sense of camaraderie I felt with the other women in there.  None of them stared, none of the pretended to ignore us in the hopes of avoiding something unpleasant and uncomfortable.  Each woman that came through offered her sympathies and help and shared stories of when their child had done something similar.  It made me feel as though I was part of this network of mothers that understood and cared.  We didn’t really know each other, but we had an understanding of what the other had been through.  For some odd reason feeling as though I wasn’t alone in my struggles made everything easier.

So with Monday and Tuesday both in the crapper, the week was off to a pretty un-promising start.  More to come of the remainder of the week’s events…

Tags: car crap, motherhood, puke, sick baby

Thinking that…

…this leftover Halloween candy is going to be my demise.  Willpower, where have you gone?

Toddler fatigue

I’m beginning to realize more fully every day that I am completely unprepared to parent a toddler.  I would probably say that, oh, 99% of people would probably make the same comment, but that doesn’t make me feel any better knowing that I’m in good company.

Surviving the infancy of my daughter was hard.  The lack of sleep, the lack of freedom as you are homebound with a tiny and helpless human.  The never ending cycle of a new baby- eat, poop, sleep, cry, eat, poop, sleep, cry…But, infants do sleep a lot.  And if they aren’t sleeping, they’re usually pretty content if they’re held or being fed.  They don’t move much, they don’t need much entertainment, and they eat the same thing all the time.  So simple!

Surviving toddler-hood may prove impossible.  When my daughter was about 4 months old we could tell she would be an extremely active baby and little girl by the way she would wildly pump her arms and legs on a regular basis.  Our prediction was spot-on.  My now 15 month old never stops moving.  She is always exploring something.  She likes lot of action and entertainment.  She is a smart and sweet little thing.  But she has an uncanny way of driving me truly crazy.

Not only does she still not sleep and lately she still poops 4 frickin’ times a day, but the ever-changing eating habits, the need to be constantly on the move, and the frequent whining/groaning/grunting/screeching  jags due to boredom or teething pain or who knows what has me exhausted and feeling as though I am on the edge of losing it.  I have a complete understanding of the phrase bone tired. And the stubbornness!  Oh, the stubbornness!

I know these years are precious, and in many ways I do love them.  But some days I wonder how on earth I am going to survive another day (or night) like the one I just endured.

Tags: toddlers

One of those days

Here I was, looking forward to the weekend with the naive hope that it would offer some relief from the stress of the workweek.  Sadly, my hopes have been dashed.  Here is how the last 24 hours have gone:

- The kid wakes up over and over in the night for unspecified reasons.  When I demanded an answer at 3:00 AM as to why she insisted on waking me up again all I got was an “eh?” in response.  I think she’s faking that she doesn’t understand the question.

-  The kid decides after not sleeping all night that waking up for the day at 6:15 AM is a great idea.

-  Husband leaves for work at 7:45 AM, leaving a tired and very grumpy mama with a teething and also grumpy toddler.  Brewing a recipe for disaster commences.

-  As I am attemtping to make myself decent, I realize the house is eerily quiet.  No noise from the kid in the next room.  I go to inspect and discover her emptying my purse and being particularly taken with the bright red lipstick in there.  In order to investigate this exciting new product further, the kid decides to taste it, smear it on her jammies, and rub it on the carpet.  Awesome.

- The kid spends the rest of the morning ignoring my attempts to distract her with fun items (”Look, honey, a plastic spoon!”) and fakes that she doesn’t understand the word “no”.  I know she is faking because the entire time she is doing something naughty she says “no” repeatedly.  Multiple time-outs ensue.

-  The kid decides that the mild whining and grunting over the last couple of hours has not been sufficient and decides to screech incessantly at the top of her lungs, over NOTHING.

-  Oh, did I mention that through all of this mama has PMS= the overwhelming feeling that I am completely unable to cope with life in general?  I didn’t mention that?  Silly me, since that has made everything exponentially worse.

- 1:00 PM.  I’ve had it.  The countdown to when daddy gets home has begun.  Thankfully, the kid is taking a nap.

The bright beacon of hope shining through all of this today has been the knowledge that tonight I get to go to the SYTYCD live concert.  YEAH!  If I can just keep that in my sights, I think I’ll make it through the next five hours…

Tags: feeling crazy, PMS, whining

I hit the wall

I was pretty darn proud of myself for posting for 5 whole days straight.  And like, real posts, you know? 

I think my streak is over.  I’m tapped out.  My brain is slowly shutting down in preparation for the weekend. 

I’m so happy its the weekend.  Holy crap, I’m glad this week is over.  In all reality I’ve had much, much worse weeks.  But I’m still ready to be done.

Sorry for the lame-o post.  Let’s hope this weekend brings something interesting to write about!

Tags: lame-o

Take me out to the ballgame

For the first time in my entire life I have become (somewhat) interested in baseball.  I actually watched the majority of the World Series and the games leading up to it.  Some of them I even watched on my own!  FREAKY, I know! I hardly even recognize myself.  A couple of years ago we went to a Yankees/Red Sox game in NY, which was a lifelong dream of the hubby’s.  The significance of the event was completely lost on me.  All I could think about was how blasted hot I was, and should I eat another hot dog?

I happened to marry an enormous Yankees fan.  Well, just a huge sports fan in general, but the Yankees are one of his favorites.  I’ve always been of the opinion that baseball is b-o-r-i-n-g, especially on TV.  I usually enjoy watching most other sports, but baseball made me all sorts of irritated and antsy and sleepy, all at the same time.  I think a big part of it is that I don’t understand the rules or strategies at all.  It took me years (literally, years) to figure out what a first down in football was (I swear I’m not stupid, just uninterested…or so I’d like to think).  Once I finally figured out what all these “downs” the announcers were talking about I started to enjoy football a whole lot more.

Now that I’m starting to get a tiny inkling of the strategy of baseball its become more interesting to me.  I think the fact that it was the playoffs helped a lot.  I also think I’ve gained an appreciation for it because its a great source of background entertainment when you have a toddler.  It doesn’t require a whole lot of concentration or thinking, and I can even look away for a few minutes to attend to the wee one and when I look back, the same guy is still up to bat!  I haven’t missed a thing!  Ever tried to watch Lost or something while taking care of a toddler on your own?  DOESN’T WORK.

Anyway, since I still am pretty clueless about baseball in general, I tend to pepper the hubby with questions.  You know, intelligent ones that any guy would want to answer during a game, such as:

“What’s that little phone they talk on all the time?”

“Why is he called a ‘manager’ and not a ‘coach’?  That doesn’t make sense… all the other sports teams have coaches.”

“Why do the pitchers sit somewhere else?’

“Why do they have to make the uniforms so unflattering?”

“Its raining!  Why don’t they all wear long sleeves?”

“How many pitchers does the team have, anyway?  Seems like a lot.”

“Doesn’t it hurt their elbow to throw that hard?”

“Why does Derek Jeter have such an ugly haircut?”

“Why is he the closer?  Is it because he’s a dependable?  Or just really good?  Or both?  Is he your favorite?”

“Ew, why do they have to spit so much?”

“What do all those numbers mean?”

“And those numbers…?”

“Who’s that guy?”

“And who’s that guy?  Is he good?”

“What about that guy, who is he?”

Yep, my husband is a lucky man indeed to have his wife join him for the games.

All you other guys should be SO jealous.

Tags: baseball, sports, the hubby

Its a hard knock life

Last night as we were getting ready for bed Claire woke up very unhappy.  As in screaming-her-guts-out unhappy.  After trying everything I could think of to soothe her I figured that something was hurting her and decided to check her diaper.  Sure enough, her poor, precious little bum was so red it was practically glowing in the dim light.

As I commenced cleaning her up the little thing writhed and screeched and shook from the pain.  Oh!  Could my heart break any more?  I ended up a a hot mess with tears streaming down my face, later followed by a brief cry in the bathroom because it hurt my heart to see my baby so unhappy.  Could I be more pathetic?  I’m crying over diaper rash! Can you imagine what a wreck I would be if something truly traumatizing were to happen?  I’m totally not tough enough for this motherhood thing.

So this morning Claire is still rather uncomfortable and is trying to avoid sitting on her little derriere and having crying spells where she reaches for me, desperate for comfort.  During one of these fits of pain I was trying to cuddle and comfort her, and I happened to look into her mouth to see four little white points that weren’t there just a couple of days ago.  The poor thing is cutting a molar (with another one coming in on the other side too), and has a bright red tush to boot.

Being a baby is tough!  I’ll take worries about money and what to make for dinner ANY DAY over a burning butt and spikes coming through my gums.

Tags: diaper rash, teething

Like clockwork

Men are so weird.

I grew up in a family with all sisters, no brothers, so I don’t think I really got the full idea of how guys are.  Sure, my dad lived there, but he was my dad.  Needless to say, getting married was a pretty big eye opener for me.  And I’ve had it easy, my hubby is generally very well mannered and not the usual gross boy.

One thing I’m still discovering, after 3 years of marriage, is that men are nothing without their routine.  If one thing gets off in their personal schedule the whole day might as well go down the drain.

This morning the hubby and I were up a little early due to the fact we are still adjusting to daylight savings.  As a result, he could get ready for school at leisure and had plenty of time before he had to leave.  Normally he doesn’t eat breakfast because he tries to sleep as long as possible before he absolutely must get up and get ready.  But today, I assumed he would want breakfast since he had time, and who wouldn’t want to eat when given the opportunity?  I know that I always look forward to my next opportunity to eat.  You know, like a normal person.

Except when I asked him what he wanted for breakfast he said wanted nothing.  Nothing?  Huh?  He said he had to leave for class.  “But you don’t have to leave for at least another 10 minutes.  That’s plenty of time to down a couple of Eggo’s!” I insisted.  He said he didn’t want to rush.  “Well then, just grab a quick bowl of cereal.  You don’t want to be hungry, do you?” I pressed.  No thanks.  “Are you nuts?  Why on earth would you willingly go hungry for the next 3 hours?”  I couldn’t understand this crazy man’s logic.

Finally he came clean with a sigh, “I don’t want to throw off my schedule.  If I eat now, I’ll have to eat lunch early, and then I’ll be hungry in the afternoon.”

Me: *Blink…blink*  “So, eat a snack in the afternoon.  It makes no sense to go hungry if you don’t have to.”

Him: “No, I want to eat just 3 meals a day.  I have to stick to the schedule.”

Seriously, this logic is completely baffling to me.  I have no eating schedule.  I eat when I’m hungry, I don’t eat if I’m not.  I eat when food is available, I don’t eat if there isn’t any.  Simple as that.  And since I know you’re dying to know, same with my bathroom habits.  I go when I need to, and don’t go if there is no need.  Logical, right?  No schedule.  I’m footloose and fancy free!

Crazy hubby, on the other hand, has an iron-clad bathroom regimen, especially in the morning.  If things don’t go according to schedule, his whole day is off.  Apparently his eating habits must go as planned too.  And I know his sleep must stay on schedule.  If he gets more than 30 minutes off for even one night he wakes up the next morning insisting he is getting a cold due to lack of sleep.  Personally, I think it’s all in his head. 

Are all men like this?  Are women like this too and I’m just the weird one??

Tags: schedules, the hubby, weird

1 step forward, 4 steps back (or something like that)

For my job I manage a team of sales/customer service reps.  For the past year and a half I have been managing a specialty team (as in, we do something special in the company).  I have loved my specialty team.  Seriously, the most hard working, dependable, mature, and fun group of people.  All of them genuinely good people.  Love them.

A week ago it was decided that I would be switched back to a “regular” team, due to several changes in the structure of the company.  Sigh…

So, I am in the beginning stages of getting to know my new team, and I’m sure there are oodles of lovely people.  But based off the exposure I’ve had with a few individuals so far things are not looking promising.  Imagine that you have been teaching college students for the past while.  Then suddenly, due to circumstances beyond your control, you are forced to teach 6th graders instead.  Where you were once accustomed to having intelligent coversations and feeling productive, you are now playing babysitter as your student can’t figure out how to work his computer and he wants you to fix it.

Say it with me people: AWESOME.

Tags: immature, work