Did She Eat It?

I looked.  And I looked.  And I looked some more.

On everything.  The toys she was playing with all evening.  The inside of her clothes.  My clothes.  The bottoms of my feet.  My eyes scanned the carpet a hundred times.  Nothing.  It was nowhere to be found.  She must have eaten it.

Nine Months

I remember seeing them both when I changed her into a cute little dress to take her nine month photo.  About an hour or so later, as we sat on the floor playing, her dress bunched up and I noticed the little bandaid on her right thigh was starting to peel.  It was still on from her vaccinations earlier that day.  I could have removed them sooner, but...I just didn't.  Dumb ass.

I gently pulled it off her baby-soft skin.  She gave a little whine; I'm sure the spot was sore from the needle.  I figured I may as well take the one off her left thigh and get it over with all at once.  I lifted the other side of her dress.  The bandaid was gone.

I casually glanced around the floor.  Looked at the inside of her dress.  Picked up a few toys to check.  Didn't see it anywhere.  But, she had spent some time playing with her dad while I washed bottles, and I figured he had probably taken it off then. 

He was napping before having to work third shift.  By the time he got up to get ready for work, Punky was already sleeping.  I asked him about the bandaid.  He didn't touch it.  Damn.

I knew that once I changed her into the dress, she was not in her bedroom or the kitchen.  She stayed in the living room and dining room area, and I was confident I would find that bandaid in that vicinity with little effort.  I didn't want it left somewhere so she could find it and try to eat it.  Everything goes in her mouth these days.  The search was on...

A half hour passed and I still hadn't located the missing bandaid.  Suddenly, the realization popped in my head...She could have already eaten it!  I was even more determined to find it.  It had to be there somewhere, it just had to be!  I retraced all her steps, the toys she played with, the places she sat, the furniture she climbed on...I even pulled her clothes out of the hamper to check them again. 

No bandaid.  She ate it, I know she did.  Add another "F" to my parenting report card.  I can't believe neither one of us noticed her chewing on a bandaid...

I then spent the next half hour searching the web for all possible complications that could arise from swallowing a bandaid the size of a nickel.  Apparently, it's a common item for a baby to swallow.  Glad to know I'm not the only one who stinks at this mom stuff. 

At any rate, I finally managed to convince myself that if she ate it, she would poop it out in a day or so and be none the wiser.  I listened to her breathing while she slept.  No wheezing.  No gasping.  No shortness of breath.  There was nothing stuck in her airway.  If she managed to get it in her mouth, it was most likely safely in her stomach and should travel through her system with no problems...at least that was the case with the cyber babies...but there was always that chance...  What if it gets stuck somewhere?

I got to sleep around two a.m., after checking Punky a million times.  The alarm went off at six this morning.  I stumbled out of bed and headed to the kitchen to start the coffee, then continued through the dining room on my way to the bathroom. 

Something caught my eye.  I don't know how since it was barely open, and the only light was coming from the hood over the stove.  Just as I saw it, I stepped right on it.  No...it can't be...not after all my searching...

Yep.  There it was.  Under my left foot.  A tan bandaid on a dark green rug.  It wasn't even folded over; it was a perfect little circle as if it floated down from her leg like a leaf in the autumn wind.  Right out in the open.  Dammit.

I looked at that carpet over and over last night.  With all the lights on.  I swear on my life, that bandaid was NOT there.  I couldn't have missed it.  No way in hell.

It's almost like someone was playing a cruel practical joke.  I thought I let her eat a friggin' bandaid...all sticky and rubbery...with dried blood and all.  I felt awful, I was worried sick, I barely got any sleep...

As mad as I was when I found it, I am so relieved she didn't eat it.

Lesson learned.  In the future, the bandaids will be removed as soon as we get home from the doctor.  Duh. 

Three-Fourths of a Year

Nine months today!  And a great doctor appointment to boot!

I can't believe it's been nine months already.  Punky is growing up way too fast.  I no longer have a tiny little baby, although she is still a runt by medical standards.  She remains in the 5th percentile, only 15 lbs 10 ounces and 27 inches long.  No wonder she still wears some 0-3 month clothes and size 2 diapers.  But she is maintaining the normal curve of growth, so there is no concern from the doctor about her size. 

She got a hepatitis vaccine in one leg, the first half of the flu shot in the other, and they pricked her finger to check her hemoglobin for anemia and also for a lead test.  All levels are normal, thankfully, and she screamed her head off when she felt the needles.  She has to go back in a month for the second half of the flu shot, and possibly the first half of the H1N1 vaccine if they have it by then.  I know it is so controversial, but I think I am leaning towards going ahead with that vaccine.  We'll see what develops over the next month as they continue to test it.

The doctor was also pleased with her development thus far.  She may be small, but she's mighty and definitely hitting most milestones ahead of schedule.  I was beginning to worry about her language development.  She hadn't really begun to babble hard consonant sounds, and from what I read, she should have been doing that already.  She coos all of the vowel sounds, and even seems to say "hi" once in a while, but no mama, dada, or baba yet.  Then, this past week, she finally started with gaga gaga gaga...so now it begins.  I think she'll progress quickly from here.  Once she learns something new, there's no stopping her.

She still eats whatever you give her, and wants everything you put in your mouth.  I started giving her some of the stage 3 baby food this week; so far so good, although she did spit up the spaghetti and meat sauce kind.  For whatever reason, it didn't agree with her and now she has a stain on her cute, purple pants.  I've been trying to give her more table food when I can, but it's hard sometimes since she is still toothless.  

She is doing well now with feeding herself puffs and mum-mums, although she seems to prefer to drop them on the floor first and then pick them up along with whatever fuzz or hair is on the carpet.  She likes to put her hand in the jar and pull out a fist full, and if she's lucky, one gets in her mouth and the rest hit the floor.

She is now able to walk by herself behind the car push-toy we bought her.  She does it so nonchalantly as if it's no big deal, while we clap and cheer like there's no tomorrow.  She must think we're nuts.  Perceptive baby.

She waves bye-bye, but not always at the exact moment she's supposed to do it.  She also has gotten the hang of clapping her patties, and now whenever we say "Yay!" and clap at her many awesome achievements, she smiles and claps her patties along with us.  It's too adorable...my heart just melts every time.  And when I sing songs with hand motions that she's seen time and time again, she attempts to do some of them on her own.

She is still a total monkey, climbing over everything and never sitting still for a second.  When she sees something she wants, she'll go to the ends of the earth to get it, and sometimes it is hard to distract her.  She focuses on the prize and is down right determined to reach it.  Subborn baby.  It's a toss up where that came from; we both can be bull-headed at times.

She still insists on trying to stand up in front of the TV, and we still tell her "No!" and drag her little hiney away from it a thousand times a day.  She hears you say "no", she stops what she's doing, turns to look at you, smiles, lets out a giggle, and then goes for it in the blink of an eye.  She knows what we are saying, I'm fully convinced she understands, she just chooses not to listen...yet.  In order to stop her, we have to divert her attention to something else...and repeat the process five minutes later when she realizes she's doing something different than what she planned on doing. 

When I read to her now, the pictures in the books hold her attention for a few minutes.  Before, all she wanted to do was chew on them; now I get through a few pages before the chomping begins.  I hope someday she loves to read as much as I did as a kid.  There are so many great books that I loved, and I can't wait to share them with her.

I want to try to get a good picture of her today on her nine-month birthday, but she no longer sits still like she did when we had the six months photo shoot so this ought to be a challenge.  She is napping now, sleeping off those horrible shots, and will hopefully wake up her usual smiley self and not a crankpot.

The Wonderful Weekend

It truly was. And I’m sad it’s Monday again.

He worked from 3 p.m. to 3 a.m. all weekend, so it was pretty much just me and Punky Lee. And we did…nothing really. Just enjoyed hanging out at home and spending time together. And she was so good; she even took great naps for me. That’s a rarity when mama’s home with her.

Her gums are really hurting now. They are all bumpy, and in the right light you can see the white teeth inside them. She is having such a hard time. She’ll be nine months a week from today, and still not one single tooth has broken through. She was a bit whiny and clingy off and on all weekend, but I attribute it all to her sore mouth.

We played, and played, and played. She is really fun now. Things catch her attention and fascinate her. The simplest little things can keep her amused for a very long time. And when she discovers something that tickles her fancy, she wants to do it over, and over, and over, and over.

She’s taken a liking to our basket chair in the living room. She loves to lay back on it while someone spins it (slowly) around in circles. She’ll sit an hour if you are willing to keep turning it. Grammy started it, and now Punky can’t get enough of it.

She also has a fascination for the water in the sink. Whether I am washing bottles in the kitchen sink or brushing my teeth in the bathroom, if she hears running water she comes over and whines until I pick her up and let her put her patties in and splash. Grammy apparently started this also. I’m detecting a pattern here…

It is absolutely impossible to eat anything these days without Punky at your side wanting some. I don’t know if she’s hungry, or if she is just amused with the taste of the real food she’s been sampling lately. I feed her dinner before I eat, so I find it hard to believe she is still starving, yet she carries on if I don’t share my food with her. I don’t mind if it is something she can have, but sometimes it’s not and then I need to give her some of her puffs or some nibbles of bread while I finish eating. I need to talk to the doctor next Monday. Maybe she is still hungry. I’m just cautious about what I give her; there is only so much you can eat toothless.

She was awake at 5 a.m. yesterday so when she napped, mama napped with her. I can’t remember the last time I did that. It’s been months I’m sure. I never have time to nap. But, yesterday I was exhausted so I made time. And it was worth it.

We took a nice walk last night and sat outside for a while. It was the last weekend of summer, and it went out in style with beautiful weather. Then it was bath time, and she loved it as usual.

There really wasn’t much excitement, no big news or achievements, but after Punky went to bed last night I got to thinking about how wonderful the weekend was. We really had quality time together…and a nice quantity, too.

She giggled. I laughed. I read stories. I sang songs. We danced. We played. We cuddled. We rolled around the floor. We bonded. It amazes me how I love her more each and every day; the feeling just grows and grows.

Punky Needs a Helmet

Seriously.  She does.

I am thankful she didn't have a doctor appointment this past week.  One look at her head/face may have warranted a call to CPS.  No joke. 

It's unreal how many times she bangs her head these days.  I can't help but feel like the worst mom ever, and it's even worse if it happens on someone else's watch. 

Last Monday night, she flipped the TV remote off the end table and cracked herself in the forehead.  Of course, she got hit with the heavier end that has the battery compartment.  One black and blue mark, left forehead.

Tuesday night, she fell and somehow hit her face on her music table she loves so much.  Over the past few months, she has pulled herself up at that table and then sat herself back down literally thousands of times with no problems.  I have no clue what made this time different, but she had a nice cut just outside of her right eye and developed a puffy, partial shiner under it. 

On Wednesday, she was playing with a toy on the floor and decided it would be fun to lay on her back and hold it straight up in the air above her head.  Then let it fall.  It wasn't a stuffed animal; we're not that lucky.  It was a large, hard, plastic toy.  One black and blue mark, right forehead.

Thursday morning, she woke up with a little cut under her other eye.  I presume it was a self-inflicted scratch and have since cut her nails.  Anyway, one nickel size red blotch with a cut in the center under the left eye.

By that point, Monday's remote control injury had turned that puke green color that all black and blues morph into eventually...

She was a mess, and I wouldn't blame anyone for assuming the worst.  I get so frustrated sometimes.  I'm her mama, I'm supposed to protect her.

I know, "kids get hurt...blah,blah,blah..."  I've heard it many times now and I get it, really I do, but exactly how often is my concern. 

Is this normal, or do I have the klutziest baby on the planet?  I've been known to be a bit accident prone myself, so maybe it's in the genes...

Do I seriously just suck at this? Come on, I can take it even if the truth hurts.

I was sitting right next to her when the first two occured.  I looked at the TV for one second when the remote flew up and hit her.  When she fell by her table, I was sitting on one side and her dad was on the other.  Only twelve inches from her and neither one of us caught her.  Truth be told, I saw her go down on her hiney, but didn't even realize she hit her face until she started crying and I saw the cut.

The third happened while I was at work.  Again, I feel responsible because I wasn't there to watch her.  Although, given the previous days' track records, I probably wouldn't have caught the damn toy anyhow, or even thought to stop her from holding it over her head in the first place. 

The fourth happened while she was sleeping, so I guess I am partially off the hook; however, I knew her nails needed to be cut and I hadn't gotten around to doing it.  Yeah, my fault again.

The next few days were quiet, a minor bump here or there as she crawled into things but nothing hard enough to cause a tear.  I began to think maybe we just hit a rough patch and it was over now. 

Last night, the three of us were in her bedroom.  I was standing on the bed, hanging her freshly washed valance on her window.  Dad was holding her fleshly washed sheet and matress cover (she keeps waking up soaked and that is aggravating enough to deserve it's own post down the road).  Punky was on her crib matress, which was out of the crib and laying on the floor.

When I caught sight of her out of the corner of my eye, I said out loud that she was going to roll off of it and crack her face.  The words were still hanging in the air when it happened.  Again, neither of us had a chance to grab her.  Face met floor once again, thankfully soft carpet, but the tears came and lasted a few minutes.  Her cheek was red for a bit but she escaped another black and blue.

She is fast, really fast, and it's impossible to have my eyes planted on her every second.  And she's so curious and has absolutely no fear.  She does something, gets hurt, cries, and two minutes later she's right back at it again. 

I hope she gets out of this stage quickly, for the sake of her poor little head and my sanity.  Her nine month doctor appointment is scheduled for the 28th of this month.  Let's see if I can manage to keep her boo-boo free for that visit.  Short of duct taping her to the carpet, I have no idea how to accomplish it.

25 Random Things

I have to admit, this is something I've seen on other blogs I've been reading, and I thought it might be fun for me to write.  Honestly, I think it will be challenging to come up with 25 random things about me...this post may take a week or more to publish...

Here goes, in no particular order:

1. I cannot live without mint chapstick.  Those who know me can attest to my insane addiction.  And it is definitely an addiction.

2.  I think the hardest thing to cope with in my daily life is my allergy to animals...and the asthma attack that follows shortly afterwards.  Without it, I'd probably be a crazy cat lady.

3.  Currently I am struggling to decide if I want to try for another baby or just be happy and satisfied with the perfect one I have.  I am really stuck exactly in the middle, and I feel like I need a resolution. Now.

Geez, I am only three things in, and I can already see how each of these "things" could be an entire post on its own.  Yikes.  Maybe I am thinking too deeply...maybe I should stay in the shallow end of the pool.

4.  I love ice cream. 

5.  I find jigsaw puzzles relaxing.

6.  I have had one car accident.

Gosh, how dull.  Utterly boring.  Completely blah.  Simple just isn't my style, I guess.  Let me try those again:

4.  I used to love ice cream, but the more I think about it, I'm not that wild about it now.  And I don't know when that happened.

5.  One of the very best memories I have involves a jigsaw puzzle.  Actually, I would say two of my best memories...

6.  At age 17, I totaled my parents' brand new Chevy S10 Blazer.  Rolled it.  Spun it.  Blew all the windows right out of it.  In the middle of town.  In four lanes of traffic.  Going about 15 mph.  Now that's talent...

Better.  Much, much better.  Now to continue...

7.  If I could go back and do it over, I would join the drama club in high school.

8.  I believe in guardian angels and I imagine them holding the plane in the air every time I fly.

9.  I don't do scary movies.  I believe it can all really happen and I'd rather not miss several nights of sleep waiting for the ax-waving, chainsaw-revving, blood-sucking, bone-crushing, vampire / zombie / werewolf / psychopath / serial killer / rabid dog / alien / ghost to jump out of my closet and eat me.

10. I have absolutely nothing in common with the girl I have considered to be my best friend for the last thirty years.  Truly, we are complete opposites.

So far that wasn't so tough.  Maybe this won't be a difficult as I thought.  Let's see, what else have I got?

11. My greatest phobia is a fear of sharks.  A college professor of mine (Environmental Geology...don't ask why) commented that if you've ever been in the ocean up to your waist, you've been within three feet of a shark.  That was it for me; I haven't been in the ocean since.

12. Most of the time I am lonely.  Even when I'm with people, sometimes I still feel alone inside.  I don't know why.

13. I can't seem to remain standing if there is even the slightest bit of snow/ice on the ground.  I've had more falls than I can count or remember.  Always in front of others, of course.

14. I don't play nice when I am hungry.  I get cranky miserable quickly, and the only solution is to find food fast.  Just ask those who were on the march in Vegas.

15. I have had the same cell phone number for almost seventeen years now.  Not many people can say that.  Damn, just made myself feel old.

I seem to be slowing down a bit here...these last ten may take a while...

16. I love music.  All kinds of music.  It has the power to turn my bad day into a good one. It can turn my sadness into joy.  It can turn chaos into tranquility.  For this, I would credit my mom, who is still constantly singing something or another...

17. I think the fact that wisdom comes with age is one of life's greatest injustices.  I think you should know everything while you're young and have enough energy to do things right.  What good is wisdom if you've already wasted years of your life screwing it up and now it's too late to fix it?

18. If I had my choice, I would rather work for a man than a woman any day.  Women in business can be spiteful, demanding, controlling, manipulative bitches.  Myself included.

19. I worry way too much about what others think.  It's definitely a flaw.  I wasted a lot of precious time not acting for fear of others' opinions.  And I still haven't learned not to care.

20. My favorite color is green.

Okay, that last one was a bit lame, but it's starting to get rough.  Only five more to go...  I think I can, I think I can...

21. I would be happier sitting in a room that was dirty but arranged symmetrically, than in a clean room with random object placement.

22. I have a strong sixth sense.  I trust my gut over logic or reason every time.  It hasn't failed me yet.

23. I love standup comedy.  I admire anyone who can make people laugh.  George Carlin was my favorite.

24. The best thing I have ever felt in life is a hug from my baby girl.  It is a feeling like no other and it can't be put into words.

25. For the future, I am most excited about watching Punky discover the world.  There is an endless number of "firsts" on the horizon, and I can't wait to see her experience each one.

There! Done! I was right, it was fun. And it only took two days, not a week.

The Corn Roast

Punky and I had a safe return yesterday from our little getaway.  The weekend was nice, but the best part for me was simply getting to spend four whole days with my baby without having to leave her to go to work.  I wish I had that opportunity more often.

Anyway, on Sunday we went to the annual corn roast / family picnic at my aunt & uncle's farm.  If I had to guess, they've been having it about 25 years now at least.  It was a nice day, sunny and warm.  A welcome change since it seems to rain most years.  

As usual, the corn was absolutely delicious.  There was so much food, and it was hard to resist picking all day long.  Everything was yummy.

My aunt had a jar full of pennies and had everyone guess how many were in it.  Each year it's something else in a jar.  Whatever it is, my guess is never even remotely close to correct.  I suck.

Some people bring instruments...drums, guitars, banjos...and create a little background music off and on throughout the day.  And when they take a break from playing, the kids enjoy banging the hell out of the drums.

The annual volleyball game was played in the afternoon.  I never play.  I hated volleyball in gym class in school, and I haven't played it since then I don't think. 

People sat around telling stories and making small talk, pausing for the occasional trip up the hill to the trailer to pee. 

When I think about it, the day could've been a carbon copy of years gone by, except for the fact that everyone is older.  Some have died, others have been born, but the day happens as usual no matter who the players are.

Of course, Punky was the new addition to the festivities this year.  I think everyone enjoyed seeing her, for most it was the first time and for some only the second.  As I watched others holding her, my mind had time to wander.

I know these people are family, but outside of the related DNA, what does that really mean?  Even though I've known them literally my entire life, I hardly know them.  Any of them.  And suddenly it seemed strange.

I looked at my cousin holding Punky.  Where does she work?  What does she do?  What does her house look like?  How does she spend her weekends?  What's her favorite food?  I can't answer a single one of these questions.  I know she has two kids and a husband.  I know their names but can't remember ever speaking directly to them. 

I turned my attention to another cousin.  Same deal.  Other than the occasional bit of small talk, I really have no clue about her life at all either.  I have no concept of who she really is.

One by one I glanced at cousins, aunts, uncles...rating each one on a scale of 1-10 for how well I feel I really know them.  No one would ever be a 10.  I think people always have some part of them that they keep only for themselves so you can never really know everything about someone other than yourself.  My own immediate family would fall in the 8-9 range on the scale...and the other family at the picnic would really lie in the 1-3 range.  And a three may be pushing it.

I was surprised at this realization.  It just seems such a sharp contradiction to the meaning of the word "family". 

If I had to describe most of these people to a total stranger, in many cases I would be at a loss for words beyond physical appearance, marital status, and kids' names.  For most, I could only supply a general sentence or two like "My cousin's wife is funny.  She's a great cook." 

I guess in reality, I would feel slightly more comfortable being stuck in an elevator with these people then I would with people I never met.  But only slightly.  Not enough to take comfort in their presence...I would think they'd have to be at least a 5 or 6 for that, but enough to feel not entirely alone.  Know what I mean?  It's a bit disturbing.

In all fairness, I suppose they don't know me all that well either.  They may not care at all if I were in their elevator. 

So, is this normal?  It this how extended family relationship are?  We are all connected because the circles of our immediate families overlap, which brings with it some unwritten obligation to get together once in a while.  Exchange funny stories.  Share good food.  Drink some spiked punch.  Play some music.  Then return to our daily lives and collect more funny stories to tell at the next gathering.  Learn new recipes to try.  Practice our music...

On a side note, Punky was so good this weekend, as always.  I am truly blessed to have such a great baby.  And, most importantly, Aunt P got her hugs.  Two of them in fact.  Right before we left to come back home yesterday.  And I think she feels much better now.

On the Road Again

Wow, three days in a row.  Bring on the snow...

Punky and I are headed home this weekend, possibly tonight, but most likely we'll wait until tomorrow morning.  I didn't really get anything packed last night, and I am tired, so waiting till morning is the better idea.

I always try to make the trip when it coincides with Punky's naptime.  It's over a two hour ride and much more pleasant with a sleeping baby than a screaming her head off cause she's stuck in one spot baby.  Now that she's so mobile, sitting still is not on her list of favorite things. 

Neither is changing clothes.  It's becoming a struggle.  She will normally amuse herself through a diaper change, but try and get her clothes off/on and it's a different story.  That just started recently and I have no clue why.  Maybe it's related to the whole "sitting still" thing.  At any rate, I hope it's a phase that passes quickly.

Not much excitement planned for the weekend, just relaxing and a big family picnic on Sunday.  And, so I've been instructed, Punky needs to spend some quality time alone with her Aunt P.  She has yet to be hugged and she's pissed about it. 

I guess I can understand the way she feels.  When my nephew was born, and they lived 3,000 miles away, I was sad because I thought he would grow up not knowing me.  When he was ten months old, they moved back home, and I saw him almost daily for the next two years...until I moved up here, a few hours away. 

My kid is stingy with her huggers anyhow.  She's only eight months old.  Mama gets a few a day, along with an open-mouth slobberly kiss or two.  Daddy may get one a day; some days yes, some days no.  And Grammy has been the only other lucky one to receive a Punky hug thus far, and it was actually three in a row. 

Anyway, I didn't know my nephew when he was Punky's age, and we are very close.  Don't take it personally, Aunt P.  She is little and doesn't see you often.  That will change as she gets older.  She'll remember you, and love you, and you'll be her favorite aunt, just wait and see...

As long as you don't make her pick gum out of a bush... 

Mr. Klatch? Was that you?

I was just reading about the 61 year old jackass who slapped a two year old girl in the face at Walmart.

It was not his child. He was a complete stranger. She wouldn't stop crying. Supposedly he told her mother to shut her up or else he would. When she kept crying, he smacked her in the face, more than once. As expected, he was arrested and is facing felony charges.

My immediate reaction was that if it were my child, I would be facing some hefty charges myself. It would've taken a mob of cashiers to pull me off his sorry ass, and I can guarantee he would have been hurting.

All of a sudden, my junior high reading teacher popped in my head. Isn't it so crazy how the brain stores stuff from decades ago and then digs it up to make you stop and think years later?

Mr. Klatch, from what I remember (and it isn't much...it was over twenty years ago), was an odd little man. The mental image I have of him shows a short guy in a wrinkled gray suit, prematurely balding with a bad comb-over. He came across kind of cocky, a bit of a know-it-all attitude. The way he said things left you to wonder if he really had a sadistic mean streak in him, or if he said some things solely to be funny, clever, and impress the class. It was obvious he was not part of the popular crowd when he was in school.

Anyhow, I remember nothing more of him, or the class for that matter, except for two specific things I recall him saying:
After we took a test, he said he would grade our papers by throwing them up in the air in front of a fan that would blow them toward a wall where he had painted the letters A, B, C, and D. The section where your paper landed would be your grade. I think I remembered this all these years because once I hit college it appeared there were professors who actually did this...Dr. Armstrong, Sociology 101.
The other story he told was about babies at the grocery store. He said he loved to open a jar of hot peppers, dip his finger in, and then touch the mouth/lips of babies when their mothers weren't looking. The kids would scream, the moms couldn't figure out why, and he would be amused.

When I was thirteen and heard him say this, my reaction was very different from my reaction today. No harm, no foul...I thought back then. If he really did this to babies, which I sincerely doubted, he didn't really hurt them. They cried a bit and got over it. It was kinda funny in a way. It may burn for a few minutes, and aggravate their mothers, but it caused no permanent long term injury or harm. They would never remember it, and the moms would just think it was a simple crying fit.

Now, the thought of someone doing that to my little girl is so upsetting. Why would anyone take pleasure in making a baby cry? Sadistic bastard. Yeah, that's was he was. A mean, sick, demented little man. He deserves to rot in hell.

So, if that's now my view on the hot pepper juice prank, no wonder my gut reaction to today's news story was so intense. What he did was definitely wrong; he had no right to touch that child. He obviously has issues and needs some counseling...in addition to jail time, not in lieu of...and I hope he gets both.

At the same time though, the child was not really injured. Her face was a bit red they said, but he didn't break her jaw or anything like that. While I agree that it was assault, I also understand how the constant crying of a baby can bring out the worst in people. But, he could've simply walked away from the situation. The child won't remember the actual event; she will remember it solely through hearing her mother re-tell the story over the years. She will not be physically scarred. She will not be emotionally scarred. She will not be psychologically scarred. It was one isolated incidence, and it will not affect the overall outcome of her life.

So, thinking this through a bit, I guess if it were my child, peeling the guy like a grape would've been a bit harsh. It wouldn't have made the situation better, it wouldn't have reversed the event, and it would've only complicated the whole thing.

But, all that being said, my "mama bear" gut reaction may trump any rational thought if I am ever in that situation. I never understood it, or even knew it truly existed, before Punky came along.

When your child is in danger...any kind of danger...whether it be the possibility of falling down the stairs or getting hit by a car...some adrenaline switch gets flipped in a mama and all bets are off. She will protect that child to the best of her abilities and instict will rule her decisions. To exist in the real world of today, mothers need to learn to keep that instinct in check and abide by society's rules. I still think I may have jumped on the guy... I'm too new at this mama thing and my instincts are running rampant.

And I really have to wonder...Mr. Klatch? Was that you in the news? Highly unlikely...but the age would be about right...

I'm Crazy and He's an Idiot

Sometimes all I can do is roll my eyes and think to myself “Who the hell is this guy?” 

Other times I manage to mumble “idiot” in a disgusted tone that would make Debra Barone proud.

Once in a while I yell.

Then he calls me crazy.

Idiot.

I don’t know why we are having such trouble getting along lately. Is it the new baby stress from the last few months finally coming to a head? Is it the financial worries? Is it our hectic work schedules? Are we just freakin’ tired?

Opposite of what the stereotypical roles dictate, I’m the one that gets upset over the major things (like finances) and he is the nit-picking, nagging one about all the little things. I don’t have time to sweat the small stuff. I fully realize and accept that life doesn’t allow much time for things other than work and Punky. I have just been focusing on the big picture and the big things, knowing all the while in the back of my mind that it won't always be this way...

Getting our bills paid on time is a big thing. Emptying the dishwasher in a timely fashion is not. Making sure Punky is well fed, well rested, clean, and happy is a huge thing. Having the same discussion about whether or not he should sell his motorcycle (for the 43rd time now) is not a priority. Making sure I manage to get a shower long enough to shave my legs at least once a week is more important to me than trying to find a few minutes to sneak in a quickie. That’s low on my list, and it drops farther down with every argument we have.

When I got home from work yesterday, he actually picked a fight with me over the fact that I didn’t take a second to kiss him. Seriously. I’m not kidding. Punky was cranky, it was time for her dinner and she apparently couldn’t wait three seconds or she’d die of starvation. I happened to glance at the mail on the counter and noticed another unexpected bill that we will be strapped to pay on time. As my mind swirled around that, I was trying to hurry up and change my clothes and make her dinner so she would calm down and stop crying, and he’s in the background whining that I don’t kiss him anymore.

What happened to the tough bad boy I fell for a few years ago? Now he just seems so…needy. And I can't help getting angry. So...I snap. I yell. He thinks I'm crazy cause I fly off the handle so quickly anymore. I think he's an idiot for saying stupid things that make me snap. I'm worried about many things, and I have no time or energy to deal with petty crap. I can only take each day as it comes.

For the most part, all I do is keep my head down and plough through it. I'm doing the best I can. I guess I just feel like I am making every sacrifice I can for Punky's sake, and sucking it up and dealing with it for now, and he is not.

Sure, I miss the way our relationship used to be. Sometimes I really miss having some alone time as well. I miss doing what I want, when I want. I miss having extra money to buy something or do something spontaneously without having to save and budget it in advance.

I miss my life pre-baby sometimes...I think that's absolutely normal even though I feel I pang of guilt when I admit it. She needs me now. She needs my attention. She needs my love. She needs playtime with Mama. She needs every spare moment. Her life depends on how I conduct my life now. The person she will become rides on the things I do and decisions I make today. I take that seriously. For now, my needs and wants are on the back burner. I am okay with that, it's how it should be. I brought her into the world, and she deserves the very best life I can give her.

I guess he doesn't see it the same as I do. I'm not trying to neglect him, I'm not trying to spite him, I'm not trying to cause any arguments. I just don't have any time, energy, or the ability to deal with our relationship now. Being a new mom has trumped all other aspects of my life.

I hope down the road things will get easier. I hope that as the stresses from the possibility of losing our jobs end, and the economy improves, and we get out of this financial rough spot, and Punky gets a bit older, we can reconnect and start to feel more normal again.

For now though, we reside on opposite pages. He wants everything back to normal now... I don't care how long it takes... I'm prepared for the long haul. He can nag and nit-pick all he wants. I'll continue to roll my eyes, and occasionally yell a bit. He can go ahead and call me crazy till he's blue in the face. I'm sure he hasn't heard the last "idiot" from me yet either.