Stupid as in, how do I get out of downtown? Oh wait, missed the exit so I’ll turn around. Oh crap, can’t turn around here. Jeeze louise, I left downtown 10 minutes ago and hey, I’m back! Right, I’ve been getting off at this exit my entire life and still, I went the wrong way!

All the while sweating it because MD has to work late and I needed to get to daycare to pick Jamie up.

And now, I’ve eaten my nachos in the kitchen in front of the computer and as soon as the kiddo’s video is over, I guess I’ll make some for him.

I’ve gotten spoiled. MD, come home!

Funny thing, in the comments of my previous posts, Whylime  asked me if I was sure Jamie wasn’t teething, because a lot of what I was describing sounded like, well, a teething baby. Turns out, I’m a big fat dumb-ass, and yes, he’s teething. Those damn molars. I swear this kid has peek-a-boo teeth. One will just start to break through and then Poof! It’s gone.

I’ve been giving him motrin at bedtime, "just in case," but not following up with a second dose when he wakes, hence the 4-6 am crab-fest. I finally figured this out Friday night, because I didn’t give him anything at bedtime and he woke at midnight and would not resettle. Not in his crib, not in bed with me where we finally ended up because I was just convinced that all he needed was a little TLC and snuggle time with mom. So after two hours of him falling asleep only to wake up 5 minutes later crying hysterically, it finally dawned on me that the teeth! They are hurting! So I dosed him post haste, and we slept the rest of the night. Now that I’ve gotten my head out of my ass, things are going very well. Up at 3, motrin, nurse, rock, pat, back in bed within 15-20 minutes. Sigh. Relief.

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Now, for something besides sleep. Oh man, were we a bunch of crabby McCrabersons this weekend. Imagine – MD is on prednisone for his leg, which, if you’ve never taken the vile stuff count yourself as lucky because it comes with a host of nasty side-effects, including a big ole case of the crabs (no, not that kind you gutter-heads, geesh.) Me, I’m PMS-ing, and of course Jamie’s teeth are making him miserable. We either needed a referee or separate living quarters for the weekend.

Mini-crabman had his first full-blown tantrum on Saturday, brought on I’m sure by lack of sleep the night before plus waking up from his nap a full hour early because we’re stupid. Well, to give us some credit, he rarely needs treatment for teething during the day, but really. You’d have thought we would think to give the poor kid some motrin that morning, just to be safe. So, it was kind of funny and a little heartbreaking. He flipped out for a good 20 minutes, screaming and crying. He wouldn’t let anyone touch him. He rolled around on the floor, banged his head on the stairs (I sat on them after a couple of bangs), and finally collapsed into a little sobbing heap, wedged in between the wall, the bottom step, and my leg. Wow.

Let’s see, what else. Other than breakfast, he wouldn’t eat ANYTHING but macaroni and cheese and cookies. Not even fried rice, which he usually loves. Not yogurt. Not applesauce. Not even, gasp and boy are we screwed, frozen blueberries. Hopefully it’s just a side effect of the teeth, but if not, it’s time to puree and hide the veggies.

The weather was so frustrating. We had a little warm spell, but it was so wet and rainy we couldn’t really enjoy it. Jamie and I did take a little walk though. We went to the grocery store saturday afternoon and he did pretty well, but we were a little afraid of what was going to happen when we put him in the car seat and drove to the opposite end of the shopping center to Target, and then transferred him to another cart. He’s been doing so well with holding hands lately that I decided we’d walk down and it was fun. He was so thrilled to be out of the cart and trotted along side me like a big kid. It was another "duh" moment. He’s growing so fast, it’s hard to keep up with what he can do these days.

With the warm weather this weekend, we opened all the windows and curtains and blinds, and I have to tell you, I’m not thrilled with what all that light and air revealed. With the dogs tracking mud in all over the place, and with half the rooms in our house partway through reorganization, dirt and chaos are currently reigning. I’ve accepted that with a small child in the house means a certain amount of disorder, but all this sleep we’re getting now means more of our energy can be put towards putting the house back in order. I grew up in an almost sterile environment, and I certainly don’t want that, but I also don’t want to wake up to a sink and counters piled with dirty dishes because we just couldn’t keep up over the weekend. There’s a happy medium and I know we can get there, one day at a time.

So…I was late for work this morning. More than a half-hour late actually. I was getting ready to leave, almost on time, and couldn’t find my keys. Then I couldn’t find my jacket. Then I realized, my jacket was in the car, because Jamie was asleep last night when we got home from my dad’s. When this happens, I take him right upstairs, nurse him, and pop him into bed (jammies were already on). So I took my jacket off and left it in the car, figuring it would be easier that way.

Except…I ran everything out to the car last night before we left my dad’s and my keys were in the jacket pocket. And since I was running a little late, the window of opportunity in which MD would have dropped the baby off at daycare and would be passing our exit on the freeway, it had passed. In fact, he was probably almost to work, if not there already. To make things worse, MD is paid hourly, and if he’s on time everyday he gets a $.20 attendance bonus, which we count on to make our budget. And since it was so late, and he was in fact already at work but it was too early for him to clock in, he lost it this week.

And of COURSE, we were pissed off at each other this morning. And of all the dumb things I do, anything involving my keys drives him crazy. Make a mistake in the checkbook causing $100+ in overdraft fees? He doesn’t break a sweat. Run out of gas? Mild annoyance. Keys? Drives him batshit crazy. So you can imagine how thankful I was when he showed up. Him – mistakes happen. Me – wow, that’s very kind of you, thankyou. Him – note the clenched jaw. Me – love you sweetie! Him – yeah.

Happy frickin’ Monday to you too.

• Is it retro if it’s been in your closet for ten years? Or are you just stingy and outdated?
• Why are the drivers in my downtown hell-bent on mowing down pedestrians? Someone died last month and it’s gotten worse. What gives?
• Why won’t my son eat breakfast? Is it his molars coming in (GOD HELP US), or is he determined to break me once and for all?
• See above re: sleeping.
• And speaking of sleeping, what’s it like to get 8 hours in a row? I can’t remember.
• Oh, and speaking some more of sleeping, how wide will my ass get before I’m able to get enough sleep to contemplate a) giving up sugar and b) exercising again?

I’d better put a limit on how many times I can come back and add to the list. I’m so tired today the only thoughts in my empty little head are random ones.

My friend D and I were emailing back and forth the other day, talking about my supply issues. She had lots of tips because she struggled to keep up with her baby as well. One thing she mentioned was popping the front cover of the pump to clean behind it. Oh, the front cover comes off? Ok.

So I do this before my lunchtime pumping session, snap it back on securely, hook myself up, turn the pump on and…wow. WOW. That feels really…different. Like, maybe the front cover wasn’t on securely. Like, maybe it’s never been on securely but got even looser about three weeks ago when these supply issues started. So I hoped and pumped, and hoped and pumped some more.

That night, the Boy ate at 7, went to sleep, snacked briefly at 8:30, and slept until his 10 p feeding. Huh. I wonder…if my supply was dropping because of the pump, has he been cluster feeding every night to bring it back up?? So the next morning I hooked myself up for my first session. I breathed deeply, trying to hope too much or stress too much, because that of course can cause you to pump less. As a point of reference, I had pumped 3.5 oz. at this session the day before (that’s really pathetic, btw). I turned the machine on, checked my email, did my daily blog rounds, looked down and wow. Still flowing. Twenty minutes goes by, still going strong. Thirty. Still going. Finally, after forty minutes – my usual session is 15-2 – the girls are dry. I unhook the bottles and oh my word. SEVEN OUNCES! Double from the day before. By the end of the day I was back up to 20 oz., my minimum daily quota. The Boy ate well last night and slept through to his 10 p feeding. And this morning I pumped NINE ounces.

So, if you plan on breastfeeding and working outside the home, my advice would be, get a really good pump, read the directions, and make sure all the fucking parts are attached right.

I love to sing to the Boy.  My voice is a little rusty – high school choir was a long time ago – but it’s getting stronger and strangly enough he seems to like it.  In honor of the season, we’ve been singing Christmas songs.  Rudolph and Jingle Bells for dancing around the house, quieter carols for rocking to sleep.  Problem is, I can only remember half the words.  The other day, TB was in the baby bjorn and we were dancing around the hallway waiting for Mad Dog to finish getting ready and I was trying to sing Jingle Bells.  Problem was, I kept adding whole phrases that didn’t belong, which was very confusing.  MD thought it was hilarious, and if he laughs, the Boy laughs.  So happy I can be a source of amusement for my family… 

But seriously, I’ve got to get a book of Christmas carols, because now it’s really bugging me.  What comes after "Oh little town of Bethlehem"?!