the one with the (not) broken leg (or foot or something)

 

On Sunday morning, we skipped church in favor of rest and the opportunity to enjoy the nice weather at the park with some friends. I was going down the slide with Jack, a good mommy moment in my eyes, and on the "last time before we have to go home for lunch!" his ankle/leg got twisted. He cried, but no more than usual, and calmed down pretty soon after we got in the car. But as the day went on I noticed he wouldn't put any weight on that foot. I made a call to the doctor and she told me to take him to the ER because it was probably broken. Come to find out, our little mama-Jack bonding time on the slide is a common cause of broken bones. File that under: things they should tell you BEFORE you break your kid's leg.

At the ER, he was that boy who was waving at everyone who walked through the door. He was not at all the picture of a child in pain. Except for when he had to go in for xrays with a bunch of strangers because I'm pregnant and couldn't go in the room. We both cried pretty hard during those two and a half minutes. But other than that, he was sweet and friendly and patient.

 

 

 His hand is blurry because he's doing the PB&J dance. Bringing that sandwich might have been the main reason he was so good.

The xray showed no fracture, but the doctor assured me that it was probably a hidden break since kids that young don't favor one foot or the other unless it's broken. They put him in a splint and we were sent home to wait 2-3 days for a visit with the orthopedist.

And yesterday, the orthopedist said she doesn't actually think it's broken. Her words were "it could be something or it could be nothing" so I feel GREAT about that (sarcasm). We're to keep doing what we've been doing and come back in a week, when she said she expects him to be running around like nothing happened. One can hope.

Aside from the occasional impatience that one feels when his or her leg is out of commission, he's actually been great. I let my mommy guilt get the best of me on Tuesday and I bought way too many puzzles and sit-friendly activities. We've been taking a lot of walks in the stroller, watching a lot of puppy videos on YouTube and I've even been contemplating getting him a pet fish because I just want to make him happy. He's such a joyful kid and it's been hard seeing him unable to run around and play the way he likes, especially since he has no idea why he can't. I'm just praying for a good report next week so we can get back to normal and if we're looking at a few more weeks of this, I'm just praying for lots of grace and patience.

Oh and also, send wine.

the hard days

Today was one of those days that made me want to run for the hills. It made me have a great deal of respect for single parents. It made me wish that being in the Navy didn't mean being one. It made me pray, pretty much all day long - for my attitude, for patience, for Jack to stop screaming, for him to take the nap that I knew he needed.

He wasn't being that difficult, but sometimes there are things on your list that don't mesh well with toddlers and today was one of those days. The kind of day where you leave Target with a quivering lip, just hoping you can hold on long enough to get to the car and have a good feel-sorry-for-yourself cry.

After his non-nap and my time on the couch to get it together, we went down to the park. God must know what sunshine and pretty days and the sea do for my soul, because it was 60 degrees and sunny on a day that should have been 45 and damp. I didn't care about the dirt or the sand, because bath time would soon follow. A dear friend met us there and we got lost in conversation about kid stuff and husband stuff and which shows are good to put in your Netflix queue.

I spent a good deal of the day feeling frustrated and impatient and then feeling guilty because I was frustrated and impatient. The cry of mothers everywhere, right? He's a good kid. A sweet kid. I feel thankful every day to have him. He fell asleep in my arms at 5:02pm (no nap, remember?) and I prayed for the rest and healing I need tonight to be better tomorrow. I'm thankful for new mercies in the morning. And I'm thankful that this boy will have the same look of love and delight on his face when he reaches his chubby little hands up for me tomorrow morning as he did today. And yesterday and the morning before.

I'm thankful for morning.

paging mr. sandman

He sure is cute.

And it's a good thing, too.

First, let me preface this by saying: I know I'm lucky to have a kid who started sleeping through the night when he was five weeks old.

I get it. And I don't take it for granted, believe me. In fact, I often ask myself how I got such an awesome kid. I don't know how it happened, but it just did. And you know what?

I LOVE IT.

So don't be all jeal and let that keep you from throwing some sympathy my way. Because OH DEAR LORD, he's waking up again.

It started about two weeks ago. I guess they call it sleep regression? I hate it. Sometimes it's just once. Sometimes it's three times. Sometimes it's every two hours. Regardless, I'm tired and running on coffee fumes. And I want my sleep-loving baby back.

We've adjusted the temperature in his room in case he was too cold, but that didn't work. And he doesn't really act hungry, just kind of restless, but nursing him is the only way to get him settled back down. Truthfully, the entire ordeal - from the time I get out of bed until I get back in - is only about ten minutes. It's really not that bad. I just nurse him long enough for him to drift back to sleep and then he's fine. But I don't know what else to do because he is SO WOUND UP.

I've tried giving him a pacifier to see if that will help. I've tried letting him cry for 10 minutes or so to see if he puts himself back to sleep (which he does during naptime, with no problem). I've tried rocking him. None of that works.

I'm obviously not going to starve him if he's hungry, and I'll gladly get up with him every night if that's what it is, but I don't think that's it. And I also don't want to create a habit that isn't necessary by nursing him just to calm him down. Then he might get a wild hair and try to schedule a 3am date with me every night.

(Secret aside: I have enjoyed the extra sweet, sleepy snuggles. So there's that)

Last night, I went in there at about 4am (after getting up at 11:30pm and 1:30am) and he squealed with delight and started flailing about like he does when he's getting up from a nap. Like, "Alright! Mom's here! Time to party!"

I'm just not in a very party-ish mood at 4am, you know?

So the question is this, what is going on with my kid? And when will this phase pass?

how i get groceries

Let me paint you a picture. A very long, detailed picture.

About two weeks ago, I needed groceries. We'd only been in CT about a week and had eaten out long enough, so it was time to stock the pantry. Andrew was underway - which meant my little buddy was going with me.

In all honesty, I don't mind running errands with Jack. And if given the opportunity to go somewhere by myself because Andrew is around to watch him, I'd rather go to Target or Starbucks. Not the grocery store. So there's that.

But back to impending grocery store trip. Getting out with a three-month-old takes preparation, amen? You have to time it just right so he's full and sleepy and will hopefully nap while you're out. Make sure your list is written efficiently, so you're not backtracking inside the store - get in and get out. Make sure you have everything that comes with babies: pacifier, burp rag, extra diaper (just in case), the Ergo, hat, Mr. Giraffe. And then?

MOVE QUICKLY.

Maybe it's just my kid, but the moment we put him in the car seat? Game over. He screams, screams and screams some more until the car is in motion and then he conks out. But in the meantime, I have to bundle him up, snap him in, grab my stuff, lock the door, put him in the car and go. All while he's hysterical. So by that point, I'm ready for a nap. But that's neither here nor there, because we haven't even gotten to the store yet.

Then we get to the store. I like to think of myself as a courteous mom-of-an-infant. I know it can be annoying to wait for someone to take 17 minutes to get everything out of the car, while you just want to get in your car and go home. Or park and go inside. I get that. So I usually park far enough away that there are empty parking spots all around me. That way, no one is waiting on me and I have room to stand and get Jack out of the car seat. Because you know it's just not a grab-and-go situation.

Take off my coat.
Snap the first buckle of the Ergo carrier.
Get the baby out.
Hold the baby, put on strap 1 of the Ergo.
Readjust the baby, put on strap 2 of the Ergo.
Readjust the baby, contort to snap the second buckle of the Ergo.
Tighten all the straps.

And he's not all calm and collected during this scene. He's usually squirmy and fussy. So then I have to dig out the pacifier, put on his hat, put my coat back on, grab my bag, lock the door and go.

All of that to say, anyone waiting for a parking spot or wanting to get to their car beside me would be waiting for a while. So I go to No Man's Land. Everybody wins.

EXCEPT TODAY.

On this day, Mr. Man on a Mission in a Prius decided that he, too, needed to park far away. But of the SEVEN empty parking spots surrounding my car, he wanted the one right beside me. And he was impatient about it! I'm standing there, with the door open, half of Jack in the carrier and the other half flailing about in protest and I have no choice but the get back in the car and wait for this man to park and be on his way. And he even gave me the stink eye! Like I had ruined his day or something. Don't mind the crazy lady with the crying baby, sir. You just be on your merry way.

That was just the parking lot. We're finally ready to go in and even though it was 27 degrees outside, I'd already broken a sweat. Time to get this show on the road. My list wasn't very long, so it shouldn't take long. Not long at all.

As long as every woman in a 10-foot radius doesn't stop to try and touch my baby.

Don't get me wrong, I love that I have a cute kid. And I can't help it if everyone wants to comment on that fact. It's nice, really. But what is it about some women who just lose their mind a little bit when they see a baby? I feel like I need to strap a sign on him that says PLEASE DON'T TOUCH. For the love of all things sanitary, isn't that like the universal rule when seeing a baby? You don't touch them? Not to mention the fact that he's ON MY CHEST which constitutes a major violation of personal space. You may be a grandmother, but you're not his! So you don't have some free pass giving you the right to touch all the children. The colds! The viruses! The germs!

::End Rant::

An hour or so later, we were finally out of the grocery store and mommy brain set in. I saw a Jeep that looked like ours, but there were parking stickers on them that I didn't recognize. Andrew put them on before he left, but I didn't know that. So I assumed that it wasn't our car. Which meant I couldn't find ours. Which meant I stood in the middle of the parking lot, in the cold, with a baby strapped to me and a cart full of groceries, wondering where my car went. And playing out the next few minutes of our lives should we not find the car. But then I saw the silhouette of Jack's car seat through the window. Crisis averted.

Once we were loaded up, I went through the drive-through at McDonald's (rebel) and got myself an ice cold Coke. I sure did. And I drank it all before we even got home. That's right. I'm a stress drinker.

So to answer the original question of this post. How do I get groceries? I'll tell you how I get groceries.

The end.

the 2011 christmas tree adventure (aka: that time I almost lost my mind)

You all know the image I'm talking about.

The one of the precious little family in their coordinating red and green outfits, smiling as they walk along the snowy path, looking for the magical tree to take home for baby's first Christmas. You know, kind of like this:

I had some small variation of that idea in my head last Tuesday.

Andrew finally had a day off from work, so it was time to get the tree. It was chilly enough for Jack to wear his cute sweater and hat, but not too cold that we would be uncomfortable. It was going to be perfect. I had the whole day planned out: Andrew would string the lights outside that morning, then we'd go to lunch, go to the Christmas tree farm (photo op!) and then spend the evening with James Taylor singing Christmas tunes in the background while we sipped hot cider and decorated the tree. Like I said, it was going to be perfect.

But then.

Aside: I now know to never, ever, ever make plans when you have a baby. Ever.

But then, Jack went down for a nap later than usual and slept for longer than usual, so by the time we got the lights put up, grabbed lunch and went to Lowes to pick up an extension cord, it was nearing 5pm. Which meant that it would be getting dark soon and it was almost time to feed Jack. To simplify things (and give myself grace!) I decided that we could forgo the picturesque tree farm and just pick out a tree from Lowes. It would be easier and faster and we'd find one that was just as good. So we got our tree, strapped it to the hood of the Jeep and off we went. Christmas tree, check!

Then I had this lovely idea that Andrew should drive down Main Street on the way home to see if the town had put up their tree yet. If we couldn't get our Christmas fix from the tree farm, we could at least salvage some of the Christmas spirit by seeing a beautiful tree in the town square. We turned onto Main Street and hit a wall of traffic. Oh hey, rush hour. And no, they haven't put up the tree yet - they're actually doing that right now! Oh hey, closed off streets.

Oh hey, fussy baby in the back who is ready to eat. NOW.

Here's what happened next:

Turn down Luke street to see if we can cut over.

Stopped in traffic. Jack is crying. Stopped in traffic. Jack is screaming.

I'm going to hop in the back seat and see if I can console him.

Try to open the door.

Andrew, you tied the door shut when you tied on the Christmas tree!

Jack is screaming. Stopped in traffic.

This is fun. Turn on some music to see if that calms him down.

Classical music ON. Jack is screaming.

Merry Christmas!

Stopped in traffic. Jack is screaming.

I have to get back there.

Take off my boots so as not to knock anyone out in the process. Jack is screaming to the point of choking himself. Andrew turns up the music.

Merry Christmas!

I have no choice but to do the hover-and-feed. Throw myself over the car seat to feed my starving child.

He calmed down fast.

Traffic starts moving.

That's because I'm feeding him.

Andrew turns around.

Wow, Christmas sure is a lot different than it was last year.

And then we got home and collapsed from exhaustion.

Fa la la la la, la la la la.