So, Zoey decided that yesterday was not going to be the day to begin potty training. Perhaps she is having second thoughts about the New Years resolution I have set for the two of us? I asked her repeatedly if she would like to try and go potty, to which she consistently responded "no". (Ditto on the "do you want to wear your Elmo panties?" question.)
They're forecasting rain all day tomorrow. Maybe that will be our day.
Thank you, all, for your awesome advice. Tara and Aunt Lisa, I'm totally with you on the probiotics. We actually tried those for a couple weeks, months ago with the horrid persistent yeast infection. The trouble is, I don't think we were consistent enough, and stopped using them after the rash went away. Her pediatrician said probiotics actually work best for gut-related problems, but that it wouldn't hurt to try it for a yeast infection.
Kelly, and Heather, I appreciate the input on how to get this whole ball rolling. Sometimes I have to remind myself that she just turned two, and we might still have a few months before she's actually ready to start potty training. At least we're on the right track--she's interested. Now, if we could just reroute the panty-wearing from the head to the bottom, we'll be set.
I will, of course, keep you all posted. Thrilling business, this motherhood!
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
Any tips?
It's baaaaack.....the yeast infection, that is.
Poor Zoey has been plagued with horrid diaper rashes since her third day home from the hospital, many of which are of the yeast variety in recent months. I feel for her, especially since it seems that you can change her diaper once in the afternoon, notice what might be just the start of a rash, and then--BOOM--two hours later, it's a full blown yeast attack.
This one is another nasty one, reaching essentially from stem to stern on her poor bottom. She's walking slightly bowlegged and pointing to her nether regions, saying "Owie Mommy....doctor?". (Am I surprised? No. Back in the fall, she was in the doctor's office once a week for a month, while we were fighting a particularly stubborn yeast infection that refused to go away.)
So, here's what I'm thinking. We are, of course, piling on the prescription cream at the moment...but I think it might also be time to start some potty training. Zoey has been showing interest in potty habits for months now (apparently this is a positive sign), but I've been noticing even more interest in the past few weeks. For instance, while we were in Reno, she routinely asked to go potty every night after her bath, would make a valiant effort (no results, though), and then ask to have her diaper put on. She is also starting to ask to have her diaper changed. (Another positive sign, according to her pediatrician.)
My question, for all you potty-training veterans out there, is how to go about this task? Heather, Kelly, Alisa, Sally, etc, I want to hear from you! (And of course, anyone else who would like to comment, potty-training experience or not.) We have a collection of Elmo and Disney Princess panties ready and waiting. (Sadly, these seem to be more popularly worn on her head.) Should we go cold turkey? Haul her to the potty seat every hour? What works?
I'm curious.
Sunday, December 28, 2008
Christmas 2008
We survived our Road Trip Adventure, and had a great Christmas in Reno!
I'll admit, it wasn't looking good before we left--Vancouver was fast becoming buried in snow, and we were worried that if this was the situation at our own house, how would the mountain passes look? Luckily for us, the roads weren't awful. We had about 60 miles of snow to drive in from our house to about Salem, then it was (mostly) clear sailing from there. If you don't count the one bout of carsickness (on Zoey's part), the extreme difficulty in finding new animals to work in to the song "Old MacDonald" (on my part) and trying to drive in such a manner that did not make his wife and daughter feel even more carsick (Bryan).
We rented a townhouse in Reno for three days, and I'm so thankful we did that instead of staying in a hotel. We made it to Reno on Tuesday afternoon, and it was great to have a place to spread out in--Alisa and JD's house is so tiny, it would have been hard to cram eight adults and three small children in to their place for three days straight.
Overall, the week was more work than I had anticipated--if I had to do it over again, I'd say we should just hit up the buffet for Christmas dinner. It would have saved my mom and sisters and I a LOT of time and effort! I felt like I spent most of the time in Reno either cooking a meal or cleaning up from a meal. However, while it was not the most relaxing trip on record, it was still great fun to watch Zoey interact with her cousins, Finley (who is three) and Avelyn (11 months). Finley and Zoey ran laps around the house nearly nonstop, and only had a few brief arguments (read: Zoey hitting and Finley whining) over such coveted items as Zoey's new tent and Avelyn's cool new doll stroller. (Avelyn was the only child who did NOT get a turn pushing the stroller on Christmas day.)
As for the drive, Bryan and I learned that our daughter is an excellent traveler, and that if we decide (in the VERY distant) future to emark on another road trip, we won't have to worry about Zoey keeping herself entertained. (And really? I think the carsickness--which resulted in a car seat that stunk of Febreeze mixed with barf the whole rest of the week--had more to do with Bryan trying to drive 80 mph through a curvy mountain pass than it did with Zoey's particular stomach sensitivities.) While she is not much of a napper while riding in the car (surprise, I know), she seemed quite happy to play her See 'N Say over and over, wrap her dolls in various blankets, and look through her books. Granted, I spent 80% of the drive crawling back and forth from the front seat to the back in order to retrieve miscellaneous binkies, sippy cups, and toys, but overall, she was quite the trooper and I was proud of her.
I'm hoping that you all had a happy and healthy holiday season and that, like me, you are looking forward to getting your life back on track now that the holiday season is past!
I'll admit, it wasn't looking good before we left--Vancouver was fast becoming buried in snow, and we were worried that if this was the situation at our own house, how would the mountain passes look? Luckily for us, the roads weren't awful. We had about 60 miles of snow to drive in from our house to about Salem, then it was (mostly) clear sailing from there. If you don't count the one bout of carsickness (on Zoey's part), the extreme difficulty in finding new animals to work in to the song "Old MacDonald" (on my part) and trying to drive in such a manner that did not make his wife and daughter feel even more carsick (Bryan).
We rented a townhouse in Reno for three days, and I'm so thankful we did that instead of staying in a hotel. We made it to Reno on Tuesday afternoon, and it was great to have a place to spread out in--Alisa and JD's house is so tiny, it would have been hard to cram eight adults and three small children in to their place for three days straight.
Overall, the week was more work than I had anticipated--if I had to do it over again, I'd say we should just hit up the buffet for Christmas dinner. It would have saved my mom and sisters and I a LOT of time and effort! I felt like I spent most of the time in Reno either cooking a meal or cleaning up from a meal. However, while it was not the most relaxing trip on record, it was still great fun to watch Zoey interact with her cousins, Finley (who is three) and Avelyn (11 months). Finley and Zoey ran laps around the house nearly nonstop, and only had a few brief arguments (read: Zoey hitting and Finley whining) over such coveted items as Zoey's new tent and Avelyn's cool new doll stroller. (Avelyn was the only child who did NOT get a turn pushing the stroller on Christmas day.)
As for the drive, Bryan and I learned that our daughter is an excellent traveler, and that if we decide (in the VERY distant) future to emark on another road trip, we won't have to worry about Zoey keeping herself entertained. (And really? I think the carsickness--which resulted in a car seat that stunk of Febreeze mixed with barf the whole rest of the week--had more to do with Bryan trying to drive 80 mph through a curvy mountain pass than it did with Zoey's particular stomach sensitivities.) While she is not much of a napper while riding in the car (surprise, I know), she seemed quite happy to play her See 'N Say over and over, wrap her dolls in various blankets, and look through her books. Granted, I spent 80% of the drive crawling back and forth from the front seat to the back in order to retrieve miscellaneous binkies, sippy cups, and toys, but overall, she was quite the trooper and I was proud of her.
I'm hoping that you all had a happy and healthy holiday season and that, like me, you are looking forward to getting your life back on track now that the holiday season is past!
Saturday, December 27, 2008
The bathroom situation
I promise to post later on our fantastic Christmas trip to Reno, but I must first put out there the topic that is foremost on my mind: public restrooms. The good, the bad, and the ugly.
When you spend roughly four days traveling from Vancouver, WA to Reno, NV and back in a vehicle toting a toddler, you figure out quickly which restrooms are truly worthy of your pit stops and which are best left in the dust, despite how badly you have to pee and how badly your child's diaper smells.
The losers include:
Any and all gas stations restrooms (baby changing stations consistently absent, as well as soap and towels) (seriously, you'd be better off peeing in a hole in the ground).
The McDonalds in Red Bluff, CA: who positions a baby changing station OVER a toilet? Zoey was so freaked out she kept crying "Mommy! Hold you! Fall down!". Wrangling a frightened two year old as you try to straddle a dirty toilet, all while whispering in a reassuring voice "it's okay, Mommy won't let you fall" proved to be quite the challenge. And powdered soap? Is nasty.
The Jack In The Box in Susanville, CA: no baby changing stations at all? What's up, Jack? Funny, I missed the commercial where you haul your Big-Ball-Head child out to the back of the truck in 27 degree temperatures to bear his tushy to the world because the "family-friendly" restaurant you stopped at provides no space for you to change him.
And the winners are:
The Outback Restaurant in Medford, OR: baby changing station in a roomy, albeit there-for-the-handicapped-population, restroom stall. Hooks also in the stall for hanging the diaper bag. (Bonus points.) Plenty of soap and paper towels, as well! (Try talking a toddler in to using a loud, scary-looking hand-dryer. I dare you.)
The Applebees in Eugene, OR takes the cake for kid-friendly restroom experiences. Picture this: a large stall, baby-changing station in a convenient location (read: 3 feet from the toilet), a hook ON the station for hanging of the diaper bag, AND a separate car-seat like thing NEXT to the toilet for strapping in your little ones while you use the bathroom. (This proved particularly handy for me, as Zoey finds EVERYTHING touch-worthy in a public restroom. In one of the nastier locations, I actually had to drag her up from a lying-down position ON THE FLOOR, because apparently she wasn't going to attempt lying on the baby-changing station provided. I couldn't get the Purell out fast enough.)
So, kudos to Applebees in Eugene! And now, if you will excuse me, my husband is whipping up a fantastic dinner for me as our daughter is already passed out for the night...and it's only 7:45. On a Saturday! It's practically date-night worthy!
More on our trip later. Really.
When you spend roughly four days traveling from Vancouver, WA to Reno, NV and back in a vehicle toting a toddler, you figure out quickly which restrooms are truly worthy of your pit stops and which are best left in the dust, despite how badly you have to pee and how badly your child's diaper smells.
The losers include:
Any and all gas stations restrooms (baby changing stations consistently absent, as well as soap and towels) (seriously, you'd be better off peeing in a hole in the ground).
The McDonalds in Red Bluff, CA: who positions a baby changing station OVER a toilet? Zoey was so freaked out she kept crying "Mommy! Hold you! Fall down!". Wrangling a frightened two year old as you try to straddle a dirty toilet, all while whispering in a reassuring voice "it's okay, Mommy won't let you fall" proved to be quite the challenge. And powdered soap? Is nasty.
The Jack In The Box in Susanville, CA: no baby changing stations at all? What's up, Jack? Funny, I missed the commercial where you haul your Big-Ball-Head child out to the back of the truck in 27 degree temperatures to bear his tushy to the world because the "family-friendly" restaurant you stopped at provides no space for you to change him.
And the winners are:
The Outback Restaurant in Medford, OR: baby changing station in a roomy, albeit there-for-the-handicapped-population, restroom stall. Hooks also in the stall for hanging the diaper bag. (Bonus points.) Plenty of soap and paper towels, as well! (Try talking a toddler in to using a loud, scary-looking hand-dryer. I dare you.)
The Applebees in Eugene, OR takes the cake for kid-friendly restroom experiences. Picture this: a large stall, baby-changing station in a convenient location (read: 3 feet from the toilet), a hook ON the station for hanging of the diaper bag, AND a separate car-seat like thing NEXT to the toilet for strapping in your little ones while you use the bathroom. (This proved particularly handy for me, as Zoey finds EVERYTHING touch-worthy in a public restroom. In one of the nastier locations, I actually had to drag her up from a lying-down position ON THE FLOOR, because apparently she wasn't going to attempt lying on the baby-changing station provided. I couldn't get the Purell out fast enough.)
So, kudos to Applebees in Eugene! And now, if you will excuse me, my husband is whipping up a fantastic dinner for me as our daughter is already passed out for the night...and it's only 7:45. On a Saturday! It's practically date-night worthy!
More on our trip later. Really.
Sunday, December 21, 2008
It's here!
Yesterday, the day of graduation, was OF COURSE the day that the snow arrived...and stuck!
We have somewhere between six and eight inches outside and it is completely gorgeous. Zoey will finally get to build her snowman, we might get to go sledding today, and I'm sure the cats will eventually figure out how to maneuver themselves through their snow-covered outdoor litter box.
We have somewhere between six and eight inches outside and it is completely gorgeous. Zoey will finally get to build her snowman, we might get to go sledding today, and I'm sure the cats will eventually figure out how to maneuver themselves through their snow-covered outdoor litter box.
Saturday, December 20, 2008
A Commencement Address from a Graduate's Wife
On this, the day of our husband's graduation from chiropractic college, I would like to take some time to recognize the REAL force that is driving these new members of the chiropractic profession.
I see you all out there--the tired, the haggard, the ones chasing perfectly-dressed toddlers in the back of the auditorium, hoping to catch a glimpse of your loved one as he walks across that stage. You are the one who, just three hours ago, was desperately cursing the contents of your wardrobe...because nothing fits you anymore (at least, not the way it did a year ago, or three years ago, or five years ago).
We are the women who listened to the intricate details of organic chemistry, described ad nauseum, and feigned interest despite the fact that we were lost after the opening sentence. We moved from all over the country to support our husbands in their pursuit of a chiropractic education, despite the fact that we had no friends, no job, and no support in this new environment. We comforted them when they were just a LITTLE bit sad that somebody's tragic loss meant that they were able to participate in cadaver lab. (We also tolerated the horrid smell of formaldehyde that followed them home each and every time they participated in cadaver lab.)
Perhaps you started out this adventure with children, perhaps you did not. Perhaps, like me, you got pregnant in March, with a due date of December 13...which meant not only the stress of delivering your first child very close to Christmas, but the added trouble of what to do if you delivered in the middle of your husband's finals week.
And, if you are at all like me, you spent many a night with a brand-new baby JUST on the verge of beating your husband senseless because, for the 5th night in a row, he has begged out of getting up with the baby at 2 a.m. because he "has to be in class" early the next morning. (Again, if you are at all like me, you often wished you could just dispose of your husband during finals week and have him returned to you, refreshed and ready to give you a much-needed break, when the tests were completed.)
We have survived endless rounds of boards, the intense studying leading UP TO the boards, and (for me) the inevitable fact that boards will always fall on the weekend I am on call for the hospital. I have begged, pleaded and bribed doctors not to call me in at ungodly hours of the day and night during boards, due to lack of childcare and the fact that I am married to a man who is mentally and physically checked out during these periods of time when his knowledge is being tested so greatly.
As graduation has loomed closer, we have also endured the indecision and uncertainty on our husbands' part, as to what they will specifically be doing when they graduate from school. Perhaps you were the loving, supportive wife who was gentle and kind as her husband explored the many avenues of practice that are available to a new graduate. Perhaps you are like me, and took the opportunity to explain EXACTLY what he would be doing when he finished school: getting a job, supporting your family, and providing you, his wife, with the experience of not having to budget for every diaper and jug of apple juice purchased.
And so, on this, OUR day of graduation, we will watch with enormous pride and immense happiness as our loved ones graduate from school. Partly because we know what great people they will become, but mostly because we know that our days of getting the shit end of the stick are limited...we are, after all, married to doctors now. Doctors who will be making money.
And that means I can quit my horrible job very, very soon.
And get another one, so we can start paying off his student loans.
I see you all out there--the tired, the haggard, the ones chasing perfectly-dressed toddlers in the back of the auditorium, hoping to catch a glimpse of your loved one as he walks across that stage. You are the one who, just three hours ago, was desperately cursing the contents of your wardrobe...because nothing fits you anymore (at least, not the way it did a year ago, or three years ago, or five years ago).
We are the women who listened to the intricate details of organic chemistry, described ad nauseum, and feigned interest despite the fact that we were lost after the opening sentence. We moved from all over the country to support our husbands in their pursuit of a chiropractic education, despite the fact that we had no friends, no job, and no support in this new environment. We comforted them when they were just a LITTLE bit sad that somebody's tragic loss meant that they were able to participate in cadaver lab. (We also tolerated the horrid smell of formaldehyde that followed them home each and every time they participated in cadaver lab.)
Perhaps you started out this adventure with children, perhaps you did not. Perhaps, like me, you got pregnant in March, with a due date of December 13...which meant not only the stress of delivering your first child very close to Christmas, but the added trouble of what to do if you delivered in the middle of your husband's finals week.
And, if you are at all like me, you spent many a night with a brand-new baby JUST on the verge of beating your husband senseless because, for the 5th night in a row, he has begged out of getting up with the baby at 2 a.m. because he "has to be in class" early the next morning. (Again, if you are at all like me, you often wished you could just dispose of your husband during finals week and have him returned to you, refreshed and ready to give you a much-needed break, when the tests were completed.)
We have survived endless rounds of boards, the intense studying leading UP TO the boards, and (for me) the inevitable fact that boards will always fall on the weekend I am on call for the hospital. I have begged, pleaded and bribed doctors not to call me in at ungodly hours of the day and night during boards, due to lack of childcare and the fact that I am married to a man who is mentally and physically checked out during these periods of time when his knowledge is being tested so greatly.
As graduation has loomed closer, we have also endured the indecision and uncertainty on our husbands' part, as to what they will specifically be doing when they graduate from school. Perhaps you were the loving, supportive wife who was gentle and kind as her husband explored the many avenues of practice that are available to a new graduate. Perhaps you are like me, and took the opportunity to explain EXACTLY what he would be doing when he finished school: getting a job, supporting your family, and providing you, his wife, with the experience of not having to budget for every diaper and jug of apple juice purchased.
And so, on this, OUR day of graduation, we will watch with enormous pride and immense happiness as our loved ones graduate from school. Partly because we know what great people they will become, but mostly because we know that our days of getting the shit end of the stick are limited...we are, after all, married to doctors now. Doctors who will be making money.
And that means I can quit my horrible job very, very soon.
And get another one, so we can start paying off his student loans.
Thursday, December 18, 2008
When what to my wondering eyes should appear...
I was JUST lamenting the fact that certain Christmas gifts I ordered from Costco.com hadn't arrived yet, and needed to be here to distribute by Saturday, when who should round the corner on four brown, bulky, noisy wheels?
That's right. My friendly UPS man.
I am chalking this up as my Christmas miracle, because clearly the Snow Gods are slacking and not listening to my pathetic begging.
That's right. My friendly UPS man.
I am chalking this up as my Christmas miracle, because clearly the Snow Gods are slacking and not listening to my pathetic begging.
Arctic Blast 2008: yet another disappointment
Okay, seriously?
Bryan and I have decided that we must have some type of force field surrounding us that prevents us from living in a city that gets any snow accumulation. Puyallup NEVER got snow until the year we moved away. However, since we were moving to the Portland area, we thought 'hooray!', because Portland gets a ton of snow, right?
Right.
Portland may get a ton of snow, (if, by a ton, you mean 2-3 inches that seem to warrant round-the-clock news coverage), and anywhere north of us in Vancouver may get a ton of snow, but our street is consistently devoid of any snow that sticks. It is SO disappointing!
And I believe Puyallup is on their second or third snow day from school. Enjoy it now, kids! We're moving back next year and you can kiss your snow days goodbye!
Anyway. Zoey and I are still going to enjoy a "snow day" together, regardless of the fact that we do not have any actual snow. I may or may not stay in my flannel pajama pants all day, and there will be some baking. Right now I am thrilled because it is 7:20 a.m. and I have yet to hear a peep out of her. Exciting!
I will keep you all posted as to our non-existent snowfall. But it's looking like Zoey won't be able to try out those boots and snow pants until we get to Reno next week.
Bryan and I have decided that we must have some type of force field surrounding us that prevents us from living in a city that gets any snow accumulation. Puyallup NEVER got snow until the year we moved away. However, since we were moving to the Portland area, we thought 'hooray!', because Portland gets a ton of snow, right?
Right.
Portland may get a ton of snow, (if, by a ton, you mean 2-3 inches that seem to warrant round-the-clock news coverage), and anywhere north of us in Vancouver may get a ton of snow, but our street is consistently devoid of any snow that sticks. It is SO disappointing!
And I believe Puyallup is on their second or third snow day from school. Enjoy it now, kids! We're moving back next year and you can kiss your snow days goodbye!
Anyway. Zoey and I are still going to enjoy a "snow day" together, regardless of the fact that we do not have any actual snow. I may or may not stay in my flannel pajama pants all day, and there will be some baking. Right now I am thrilled because it is 7:20 a.m. and I have yet to hear a peep out of her. Exciting!
I will keep you all posted as to our non-existent snowfall. But it's looking like Zoey won't be able to try out those boots and snow pants until we get to Reno next week.
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
Waiting for Arctic Blast 2008
That's right!
According to rumor, today is the day that Clark County is supposed to get snow. And, while I am getting just a little tired of the local news covering nothing but people slipping on ice 24 hours a day, I'm still excited for snow.
Mainly because snow today means a snow day at home with Zoey tomorrow!
Yesterday was a complete disaster, having to hand her off to the babysitter who arrived 5 minutes late, in a state of total hysteria and panic (Zoey, not the sitter). I knew she wouldn't recover from that, and true to recent form, I was right. After spending 2 hours at work, which put me in a foul mood, and running several errands (including my second trip to the long line at the post office, due to the fact that I had presented the USPS woman an un-addressed box earlier in the morning), I was home JUST in time for her to wake up from her nap. She was delighted to see me, which was sweet, but proceeded to spend the next four hours glued to my hip. (She did take a 20 minute break from my side to jump on the couch, however.) Finally, at 8 p.m., her anxiety level peaked and she had a complete meltdown, crying and clawing for Mommy despite the fact that I was right there next to her.
It was a rough night.
She was awake and crying for me (again) at 4:57 a.m. this morning, and after some hot milk and a snuggle, she was back to sleep. Given that my alarm was set to go off at 5:15, I was up for the day. I am sitting on the couch right now, listening to the news...the snow is coming! The snow is coming!
So, I am looking forward to tomorrow. The thought of spending all day with my daughter, and possibly baking some cookies, makes me happy. It means that all I need to do is survive another crappy day at work today, then go out for an anniversary dinner with my husband (hooray! As of today, we've been married 4 years! I love you, Bryan!), and after that I have some quality time with Zoey coming my way.
According to rumor, today is the day that Clark County is supposed to get snow. And, while I am getting just a little tired of the local news covering nothing but people slipping on ice 24 hours a day, I'm still excited for snow.
Mainly because snow today means a snow day at home with Zoey tomorrow!
Yesterday was a complete disaster, having to hand her off to the babysitter who arrived 5 minutes late, in a state of total hysteria and panic (Zoey, not the sitter). I knew she wouldn't recover from that, and true to recent form, I was right. After spending 2 hours at work, which put me in a foul mood, and running several errands (including my second trip to the long line at the post office, due to the fact that I had presented the USPS woman an un-addressed box earlier in the morning), I was home JUST in time for her to wake up from her nap. She was delighted to see me, which was sweet, but proceeded to spend the next four hours glued to my hip. (She did take a 20 minute break from my side to jump on the couch, however.) Finally, at 8 p.m., her anxiety level peaked and she had a complete meltdown, crying and clawing for Mommy despite the fact that I was right there next to her.
It was a rough night.
She was awake and crying for me (again) at 4:57 a.m. this morning, and after some hot milk and a snuggle, she was back to sleep. Given that my alarm was set to go off at 5:15, I was up for the day. I am sitting on the couch right now, listening to the news...the snow is coming! The snow is coming!
So, I am looking forward to tomorrow. The thought of spending all day with my daughter, and possibly baking some cookies, makes me happy. It means that all I need to do is survive another crappy day at work today, then go out for an anniversary dinner with my husband (hooray! As of today, we've been married 4 years! I love you, Bryan!), and after that I have some quality time with Zoey coming my way.
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
'Tis the season for craziness
It dawned on me yesterday that Christmas is NEXT WEEK.
How did this happen? How have I not completed everything on my to-do list?
I was already feeling stressed about all I have to do in the next week, not to mention the fact that we leave to drive to Reno next Monday, when I came home to find a note in Zoey's backpack from her school, reminding us of her Christmas program on Friday morning, and asking all parents to bring a few dozen cookies to share afterwards.
Sure. No problem.
Because you KNOW I won't be able to run to Safeway and pick up a pack of cookies from the bakery.
They will have to be homemade. Because that's what my mom would have done. And, ultimately, I enjoy baking, I just happen to stress at the thought of budgeting in the time to whip up a few dozen Spritz cookies, shaped like Christmas trees, adorned in red and green sprinkles.
*Sigh*
This led to a frantic trip to Kinkos last night to copy off our Christmas letter, then an hour and a half at home addressing envelopes so I can at least get these damn cards off my desk and feel as though I've accomplished something. I remember, back in October or so, daydreaming about the upcoming holidays, and how I would have my shopping done early, my Christmas letter written by Thanksgiving, and a cute picture of Zoey on a Costco card done weeks in advance, so I could sit down leisurely each night with a cup of tea and address a few cards at at time...no rush.
The reality is that I sat at the desk last night until my ass hurt and my legs ached because I just needed them done.
I am wondering, how does this happen? Every year? If I were a stay-at-home mom, would it be easier? Would I enjoy the rush of the holiday season more, and find more time to accomplish the things I truly love to do, but find very little time for? Or would it just be the same old story?
Essentially, my question of the day is this: how to cram more hours in to a day? Especially in December?
How did this happen? How have I not completed everything on my to-do list?
I was already feeling stressed about all I have to do in the next week, not to mention the fact that we leave to drive to Reno next Monday, when I came home to find a note in Zoey's backpack from her school, reminding us of her Christmas program on Friday morning, and asking all parents to bring a few dozen cookies to share afterwards.
Sure. No problem.
Because you KNOW I won't be able to run to Safeway and pick up a pack of cookies from the bakery.
They will have to be homemade. Because that's what my mom would have done. And, ultimately, I enjoy baking, I just happen to stress at the thought of budgeting in the time to whip up a few dozen Spritz cookies, shaped like Christmas trees, adorned in red and green sprinkles.
*Sigh*
This led to a frantic trip to Kinkos last night to copy off our Christmas letter, then an hour and a half at home addressing envelopes so I can at least get these damn cards off my desk and feel as though I've accomplished something. I remember, back in October or so, daydreaming about the upcoming holidays, and how I would have my shopping done early, my Christmas letter written by Thanksgiving, and a cute picture of Zoey on a Costco card done weeks in advance, so I could sit down leisurely each night with a cup of tea and address a few cards at at time...no rush.
The reality is that I sat at the desk last night until my ass hurt and my legs ached because I just needed them done.
I am wondering, how does this happen? Every year? If I were a stay-at-home mom, would it be easier? Would I enjoy the rush of the holiday season more, and find more time to accomplish the things I truly love to do, but find very little time for? Or would it just be the same old story?
Essentially, my question of the day is this: how to cram more hours in to a day? Especially in December?
Friday, December 12, 2008
Hmmmm.
Setting: The Time-Out Chair. Bryan kneels down to partake in the post-time-out review with Zoey, who is sitting there for hitting him.
Bryan: Zoey, hitting is NOT nice. We DO NOT HIT, ever. You need to say you're sorry to Daddy.
*silence*
Bryan: Zoey? What do you need to say to Daddy?
*long pause*
Zoey: Bless you?
Bryan: Zoey, hitting is NOT nice. We DO NOT HIT, ever. You need to say you're sorry to Daddy.
*silence*
Bryan: Zoey? What do you need to say to Daddy?
*long pause*
Zoey: Bless you?
Thursday, December 11, 2008
Something's just not clicking
Today was one of THOSE days.
For those of you out there with toddlers, I'm sure you can share in the following pain:
You wake up with your kid and from early on in the day it's clear that you are NOT going to get along. Maybe you can't convince her to eat anything for breakfast because all she demands (and will eat lately) are chicken nuggets, and even though you give her the MorningStar brand so they're relatively healthy, it's getting close to 10:30 in the morning and you just gave her nuggets for breakfast yesterday and you just feel like today should be a GOOD nutrition day.
And after you practically hog-tie her to the table and force down only two bites of oatmeal, maybe she disappears in to her room for a few minutes--a sure sign that she's pooping. And then when you go to retrieve her and her crappy diaper before it's time to fumigate, she pitches an all-out fit because you wouldn't let her walk on her own, despite the fact that you know she WON'T walk on her own to have her diaper changed, and she proceeds to kick and writhe while you are mopping shit off her bottom, then the couch, then your hand...maybe then you've just had it and you plop her in the time-out chair to "sit and think" while you break out the Clorox wipes.
Then, during the post-time-out review, after you've made her say she's sorry and firmly reinforced that kicking Mommy is NOT okay, you tell her it's time to brush her teeth. This, of course, sets off a new round of wailing and she refuses to stand on top of the toilet seat so you can get her toothbrush ready, so it's back to the time-out chair. This time it's time-out without the binky, which brings on a wave of fluid from every orifice on her bright red and screaming face. Maybe you need a break from the screaming so you go sweep the stairs and count to 10. Or 100.
After this particular time-out, after all the facial mopping and second round of apologies, she grudgingly lets you brush her teeth but refuses to get dressed. You give up on arguing.
And then maybe she goes and shuts herself in her room again. You are grateful, although in the back of your head is the nagging feeling that she shouldn't be holeing herself up in her room so often until she is at least 12. You take the opportunity to finish sweeping and vacuuming up all the dust bunnies on the area rug, produced when the underside of the couch vomited up a small ton of dust-covered toys while you were searching for your child's beloved fake-food-apple earlier in the morning.
But then you start to wonder what she's doing in there, so you politely knock on her door and walk in to find her quietly reading stories on her bed, and when she sees you she yells "No! Mommy! Go!".
(You are two parts giddy that she is entertaining herself as this allows you plenty of time to check your email, and one part a little bit hurt.)
Maybe after you get the downstairs vacuumed and the bathroom cleaned and a load of laundry going, all of which you can of course accomplish in 20 minutes, your cranky child wanders out to the livingroom to see what you're up to. Perhaps she asks if she can watch the choo-choo show and you tell her no, because she's already watched it today and now you're going to listen to Christmas music. You are certain this will lead to a tantrum and she does not disappoint. You stop to consider just how socially unacceptable it would be to have a beer before noon. You decide, instead, to stick your tongue out at your child and leave the room to go downstairs and shower.
Your child, of course, follows you downstairs in her relentless pursuit of making your day miserable, and in the interest of enjoying your shower, you waver on the no-TV rule and let her watch Elmo. Instead of gratitude, maybe she gets upset (yes. again.) because you didn't let her push the start button herself. You probably start the whole DVD over again so she push the f*@#ing play button ALL ON HER OWN despite the fact that you are naked and freezing and the warm shower is running and practically calling your name.
Once you are finally showered and dressed and it is very close to 12:00 although it probably feels like it should be bedtime, you head back upstairs with your child who remains undressed, save for a diaper. She reports that her feet are cold and you gently suggest some clothing might help solve that problem. She will probably tell you no and you will probably say something immature like "fine, be cold then" and then the one bright spot in your morning will occur--your friend Kendra will show up with a pizza and her child who is already napping and even remains asleep as she transfers him to the extra bedroom. You might sit with your friend and your child and eat lunch. Maybe your child eats two tomato slices and pronounces herself "done" and, as you see her Excellent Nutrition Day slowly washing down the drain, you tell her to go ahead and get down from the table.
The second bright spot in your day will probably be after your friend leaves for work, her child remains asleep, and you put your own Bundle of Unpleasantness down for a nap. For two lovely hours you fold laundry, balance the checkbook, clean another bathroom, and work on Christmas presents--all in fantastic, much-needed silence.
But then both children are awake and your child, of course, refuses to share her shopping cart or her apple or her fishy crackers or her orange slices or anything, really. She might fall to pieces when her friend bumps in to her accidentally while they are jumping on the couch like maniacs, because she is just having one of THOSE days. You probably spend the remainder of the afternoon protecting your friend's child from your own, until your friend returns from work and, like an angel, offers to take both kids back to her house while you clean up and meet them later at her place for dinner. Your kid probably runs joyfully for her car, upset not that she is leaving her Mommy, but that Mommy can't buckle the car seat in fast enough for her to leave. You probably don't blame her, and you probably aren't all that sad to see her go.
Your day probably improves somewhat at that point, although you are sad because you realize that, at the moment, you don't like your kid very much and she doesn't really like you, either. You try hard to write it off as Just One of Those Days, and not What Life Is Like With a Two-Year-Old Every Single Day.
*Sigh*
For those of you out there with toddlers, I'm sure you can share in the following pain:
You wake up with your kid and from early on in the day it's clear that you are NOT going to get along. Maybe you can't convince her to eat anything for breakfast because all she demands (and will eat lately) are chicken nuggets, and even though you give her the MorningStar brand so they're relatively healthy, it's getting close to 10:30 in the morning and you just gave her nuggets for breakfast yesterday and you just feel like today should be a GOOD nutrition day.
And after you practically hog-tie her to the table and force down only two bites of oatmeal, maybe she disappears in to her room for a few minutes--a sure sign that she's pooping. And then when you go to retrieve her and her crappy diaper before it's time to fumigate, she pitches an all-out fit because you wouldn't let her walk on her own, despite the fact that you know she WON'T walk on her own to have her diaper changed, and she proceeds to kick and writhe while you are mopping shit off her bottom, then the couch, then your hand...maybe then you've just had it and you plop her in the time-out chair to "sit and think" while you break out the Clorox wipes.
Then, during the post-time-out review, after you've made her say she's sorry and firmly reinforced that kicking Mommy is NOT okay, you tell her it's time to brush her teeth. This, of course, sets off a new round of wailing and she refuses to stand on top of the toilet seat so you can get her toothbrush ready, so it's back to the time-out chair. This time it's time-out without the binky, which brings on a wave of fluid from every orifice on her bright red and screaming face. Maybe you need a break from the screaming so you go sweep the stairs and count to 10. Or 100.
After this particular time-out, after all the facial mopping and second round of apologies, she grudgingly lets you brush her teeth but refuses to get dressed. You give up on arguing.
And then maybe she goes and shuts herself in her room again. You are grateful, although in the back of your head is the nagging feeling that she shouldn't be holeing herself up in her room so often until she is at least 12. You take the opportunity to finish sweeping and vacuuming up all the dust bunnies on the area rug, produced when the underside of the couch vomited up a small ton of dust-covered toys while you were searching for your child's beloved fake-food-apple earlier in the morning.
But then you start to wonder what she's doing in there, so you politely knock on her door and walk in to find her quietly reading stories on her bed, and when she sees you she yells "No! Mommy! Go!".
(You are two parts giddy that she is entertaining herself as this allows you plenty of time to check your email, and one part a little bit hurt.)
Maybe after you get the downstairs vacuumed and the bathroom cleaned and a load of laundry going, all of which you can of course accomplish in 20 minutes, your cranky child wanders out to the livingroom to see what you're up to. Perhaps she asks if she can watch the choo-choo show and you tell her no, because she's already watched it today and now you're going to listen to Christmas music. You are certain this will lead to a tantrum and she does not disappoint. You stop to consider just how socially unacceptable it would be to have a beer before noon. You decide, instead, to stick your tongue out at your child and leave the room to go downstairs and shower.
Your child, of course, follows you downstairs in her relentless pursuit of making your day miserable, and in the interest of enjoying your shower, you waver on the no-TV rule and let her watch Elmo. Instead of gratitude, maybe she gets upset (yes. again.) because you didn't let her push the start button herself. You probably start the whole DVD over again so she push the f*@#ing play button ALL ON HER OWN despite the fact that you are naked and freezing and the warm shower is running and practically calling your name.
Once you are finally showered and dressed and it is very close to 12:00 although it probably feels like it should be bedtime, you head back upstairs with your child who remains undressed, save for a diaper. She reports that her feet are cold and you gently suggest some clothing might help solve that problem. She will probably tell you no and you will probably say something immature like "fine, be cold then" and then the one bright spot in your morning will occur--your friend Kendra will show up with a pizza and her child who is already napping and even remains asleep as she transfers him to the extra bedroom. You might sit with your friend and your child and eat lunch. Maybe your child eats two tomato slices and pronounces herself "done" and, as you see her Excellent Nutrition Day slowly washing down the drain, you tell her to go ahead and get down from the table.
The second bright spot in your day will probably be after your friend leaves for work, her child remains asleep, and you put your own Bundle of Unpleasantness down for a nap. For two lovely hours you fold laundry, balance the checkbook, clean another bathroom, and work on Christmas presents--all in fantastic, much-needed silence.
But then both children are awake and your child, of course, refuses to share her shopping cart or her apple or her fishy crackers or her orange slices or anything, really. She might fall to pieces when her friend bumps in to her accidentally while they are jumping on the couch like maniacs, because she is just having one of THOSE days. You probably spend the remainder of the afternoon protecting your friend's child from your own, until your friend returns from work and, like an angel, offers to take both kids back to her house while you clean up and meet them later at her place for dinner. Your kid probably runs joyfully for her car, upset not that she is leaving her Mommy, but that Mommy can't buckle the car seat in fast enough for her to leave. You probably don't blame her, and you probably aren't all that sad to see her go.
Your day probably improves somewhat at that point, although you are sad because you realize that, at the moment, you don't like your kid very much and she doesn't really like you, either. You try hard to write it off as Just One of Those Days, and not What Life Is Like With a Two-Year-Old Every Single Day.
*Sigh*
Wake up call
You know what's fun?
Waking at 2 a.m. to the shrill cries of your two-year-old, rushing upstairs to figure out what's wrong, and finding said two-year-old shivering in her bed that is VERY, VERY wet. I do not know how this happened, but Zoey managed to twist her body around in her diaper last night, rendering it completely useless.
So there we were, in the middle of the night, Zoey hoping this was her chance to get up for the day ("Hi Mama! All done! Hot milk?") while I fumbled in the semi-dark for a clean set of sheets while trying to convince her that it was STILL the middle of the night.
45 minutes later, after a clean set of jammies and sheets, a cup of "hot milk", and a discussion about the fact that sheets with monkeys on them are NOT, in and of themselves, scary...we were settled back in for the rest of the night.
Waking at 2 a.m. to the shrill cries of your two-year-old, rushing upstairs to figure out what's wrong, and finding said two-year-old shivering in her bed that is VERY, VERY wet. I do not know how this happened, but Zoey managed to twist her body around in her diaper last night, rendering it completely useless.
So there we were, in the middle of the night, Zoey hoping this was her chance to get up for the day ("Hi Mama! All done! Hot milk?") while I fumbled in the semi-dark for a clean set of sheets while trying to convince her that it was STILL the middle of the night.
45 minutes later, after a clean set of jammies and sheets, a cup of "hot milk", and a discussion about the fact that sheets with monkeys on them are NOT, in and of themselves, scary...we were settled back in for the rest of the night.
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
What my job posting SHOULD read like...
My manager at work posted a position for my replacement two months ago. So far, no bites. While reading it over today, I thought we might appeal to a broader pool if we made the listing more realistic. Here is what I propose:
Seriously.
I think that, because the average age of a nurse happens to be, like, 75 right now (okay, maybe it's 55), and because all of them with any GI experience seem to be living with major superiority complexes and/or psychotic menopausal tendencies, THIS JOB POSTING WOULD DRAW THEM IN LIKES FLIES. They would also have the added benefit of fitting RIGHT in with the people I am so happily leaving behind when I run like hell from this particular department.
Really, this post reflects the hardest-learned lesson I have gleaned from my experience in the shallow gene pool of nursing. Lesson being this: if you find yourself at a job interview and the person conducting the interview spends 90% of the time focusing on how you might deal with/resolve/handle yourself in situations with "difficult co-workers", and only 10% of the time, say, reviewing your resume and your skill set, you should IMMEDIATELY excuse yourself, find the nearest exit, and escape. Do not look back. You may still be unemployed, but believe me, you're better off.
(And Michelle? I'm sorry. Please come with me. Puyallup is where the nice GI nurses work.)
Are you an angry, bitter, older nurse? Are you stuck in your ways and convinced you are always right? Did you start work as a nurse 30+ years ago, when everything was harder, shifts were longer, doctors were nastier, and being on call meant that you had to spend 27 hours a day at the hospital? Do you hate younger nurses and want to make their experience every bit as difficult as yours? Or perhaps you just have a generally unpleasant demeanor and find that you have difficulty maintaining personal relationships (don't worry, we're certain the problem is everyone else, NOT you). If any or all of the above applies to you, and you have a valid Washington state RN license, we have a job for YOU!
Seriously.
I think that, because the average age of a nurse happens to be, like, 75 right now (okay, maybe it's 55), and because all of them with any GI experience seem to be living with major superiority complexes and/or psychotic menopausal tendencies, THIS JOB POSTING WOULD DRAW THEM IN LIKES FLIES. They would also have the added benefit of fitting RIGHT in with the people I am so happily leaving behind when I run like hell from this particular department.
Really, this post reflects the hardest-learned lesson I have gleaned from my experience in the shallow gene pool of nursing. Lesson being this: if you find yourself at a job interview and the person conducting the interview spends 90% of the time focusing on how you might deal with/resolve/handle yourself in situations with "difficult co-workers", and only 10% of the time, say, reviewing your resume and your skill set, you should IMMEDIATELY excuse yourself, find the nearest exit, and escape. Do not look back. You may still be unemployed, but believe me, you're better off.
(And Michelle? I'm sorry. Please come with me. Puyallup is where the nice GI nurses work.)
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
Busy day
Exciting things that happened today:
1. Zoey had her two-year check up and is growing fantastically. She is 36.5 inches tall (which puts her in the 97th percentile for height) and 30.8 pounds (90th percentile). I learned that binkies and temper tantrums are all perfectly normal at this age (my MIL will be comforted to hear this) and that we won't know if Zoey has OCD due to her chronic nail-picking until she is at LEAST four years old. I am hoping this is a phase that passes long before we hit the four-year-old mark.
2. We had Ari over to play all afternoon and, because they wore each other out, they both took smashingly long naps and I was able to accomplish many things on my to-do list.
3. Zoey finally, FINALLY finished opening her birthday presents. She has a two-present attention span, which has drawn the whole process out for days. God only knows what Christmas will be like.
4. Zoey continued her new love affair with her shopping cart and doll high chair. Added to the mix was a sock monkey from Auntie Rikki--I have named her Money, as this is how Zoey pronounces monkey. Money sat at the table for breakfast, "ate" an apple, apparently made an invisible mess that Zoey enthusiastically had to "clean" when we were all done, and rode to her doctor's appointment buckled in to Ari's car seat right next to her. Money is currently sitting next to me in the shopping cart...I am waiting for Zoey to realize precious Money is missing from her goodnight regime and begin hollering for her.
5. Kendra and Ari stayed for dinner and the two kids managed to pull every toy Zoey has ever owned out from places I had forgotten I'd hid them.
6. And now, at a little after 8 p.m., it is bed time. For all of us.
1. Zoey had her two-year check up and is growing fantastically. She is 36.5 inches tall (which puts her in the 97th percentile for height) and 30.8 pounds (90th percentile). I learned that binkies and temper tantrums are all perfectly normal at this age (my MIL will be comforted to hear this) and that we won't know if Zoey has OCD due to her chronic nail-picking until she is at LEAST four years old. I am hoping this is a phase that passes long before we hit the four-year-old mark.
2. We had Ari over to play all afternoon and, because they wore each other out, they both took smashingly long naps and I was able to accomplish many things on my to-do list.
3. Zoey finally, FINALLY finished opening her birthday presents. She has a two-present attention span, which has drawn the whole process out for days. God only knows what Christmas will be like.
4. Zoey continued her new love affair with her shopping cart and doll high chair. Added to the mix was a sock monkey from Auntie Rikki--I have named her Money, as this is how Zoey pronounces monkey. Money sat at the table for breakfast, "ate" an apple, apparently made an invisible mess that Zoey enthusiastically had to "clean" when we were all done, and rode to her doctor's appointment buckled in to Ari's car seat right next to her. Money is currently sitting next to me in the shopping cart...I am waiting for Zoey to realize precious Money is missing from her goodnight regime and begin hollering for her.
5. Kendra and Ari stayed for dinner and the two kids managed to pull every toy Zoey has ever owned out from places I had forgotten I'd hid them.
6. And now, at a little after 8 p.m., it is bed time. For all of us.
Monday, December 8, 2008
Disgruntled Birthday Girl
Today was not the great birthday that I had HOPED Zoey would have.
Honestly? I think if I had just left her at home alone all day playing with her shopping cart, she would have been fine. And then I could have still run all my errands and actually accomplished something, and she would have been perfectly happy. But oohhhhh nooooo, Mommy had to take her to preschool and THAT set the wheels of hell in motion for the rest of the day.
Setting: Our livingroom. 8:15 a.m.
Me: Zoey! Let's get our shoes and coat on. It's time for school!
Zoey: No! Shopping!
Me: I know. You love your cart. Mommy is glad for that. Come put your shoes on and I'll let you carry your apple to school.
Zoey: No! No 'cool!
Me: Zoey, you get to go to school and see teacher 'Nina, and bring muffins for your birthday! It will be so much fun!
Zoey: No! No! No!
Our conversation continued on in this manner throughout the struggle to get in her coat, in the car, and all along the drive to school. What started as her refusing to go see teacher 'Nina ended in her desperate pleas to "go home, Mommy...go home!". Needless to say, I had to peel her off me and hand her over to Teacher Melina, but I truly thought she'd be fine once she settled down.
Wrong. Wrong, wrong, WRONG.
I DID manage to get my work-out in (the first in two weeks) but the minute I got home the phone rang--it was Teacher Melina, telling me that Zoey hadn't stopped crying since I had left (this was one hour later) and she was also screaming that she has an owie, although Melina couldn't quite discern where that owie might be.
I told her I'd be right there.
So, here is the list of things I had hoped to accomplish today while Zoey was at preschool:
1. Gym
2. Return bed rail to Baby Depot
3. Long, luxurious shower while I had the house ALL to myself
4. Go to Costco, pick up pictures
5. Drop off recycling
Guess how many of those items I actually accomplished? Yes. One. I will not even go in to the list of things I had hoped to do with Zoey after picking her up from preschool, as it will just make you laugh.
I don't know if Zoey isn't feeling well, or if the trauma of the preschool drop-off today was just too much for her to recover from, but the entire rest of the day was RUINED. She didn't want to do anything she normally loves--didn't want to play, read books, snuggle, etc.
So, I am hoping that Zoey's pediatrician will be able to rule out any serious owies at her two-year-old check up tomorrow. I am also hoping that she wakes up in a significantly better mood in the morning. We'll see.
Honestly? I think if I had just left her at home alone all day playing with her shopping cart, she would have been fine. And then I could have still run all my errands and actually accomplished something, and she would have been perfectly happy. But oohhhhh nooooo, Mommy had to take her to preschool and THAT set the wheels of hell in motion for the rest of the day.
Setting: Our livingroom. 8:15 a.m.
Me: Zoey! Let's get our shoes and coat on. It's time for school!
Zoey: No! Shopping!
Me: I know. You love your cart. Mommy is glad for that. Come put your shoes on and I'll let you carry your apple to school.
Zoey: No! No 'cool!
Me: Zoey, you get to go to school and see teacher 'Nina, and bring muffins for your birthday! It will be so much fun!
Zoey: No! No! No!
Our conversation continued on in this manner throughout the struggle to get in her coat, in the car, and all along the drive to school. What started as her refusing to go see teacher 'Nina ended in her desperate pleas to "go home, Mommy...go home!". Needless to say, I had to peel her off me and hand her over to Teacher Melina, but I truly thought she'd be fine once she settled down.
Wrong. Wrong, wrong, WRONG.
I DID manage to get my work-out in (the first in two weeks) but the minute I got home the phone rang--it was Teacher Melina, telling me that Zoey hadn't stopped crying since I had left (this was one hour later) and she was also screaming that she has an owie, although Melina couldn't quite discern where that owie might be.
I told her I'd be right there.
So, here is the list of things I had hoped to accomplish today while Zoey was at preschool:
1. Gym
2. Return bed rail to Baby Depot
3. Long, luxurious shower while I had the house ALL to myself
4. Go to Costco, pick up pictures
5. Drop off recycling
Guess how many of those items I actually accomplished? Yes. One. I will not even go in to the list of things I had hoped to do with Zoey after picking her up from preschool, as it will just make you laugh.
I don't know if Zoey isn't feeling well, or if the trauma of the preschool drop-off today was just too much for her to recover from, but the entire rest of the day was RUINED. She didn't want to do anything she normally loves--didn't want to play, read books, snuggle, etc.
So, I am hoping that Zoey's pediatrician will be able to rule out any serious owies at her two-year-old check up tomorrow. I am also hoping that she wakes up in a significantly better mood in the morning. We'll see.
Happy Birthday, Bug!
As is the tradition in my family, I am up at the crack of dawn to make blueberry muffins for my daughter's birthday.
And now I am sitting on the couch--with coffee, of course--listening to the news reports that snow could be on it's way at the end of the week...and thinking back to where I was at this time two years ago.
Zoey appeared at 5:13 a.m. on a Friday morning, December 8, 2006. My very first memory of her is looking down as she was born to see her literally fling herself in to the world--arms outstretched, with that blessed cry that all moms listen for as their babies are born. For months afterward, she would sleep with her arms flung out at her sides in exactly that manner, as if to say "here I am--I've arrived!".
Last night Bryan and I were re-living where we were on the evening of December 7, 2006. Specifically, in labor. By 9 p.m. that night I was actually starting to FEEL like I was in labor, and by 1 a.m. I was sleeping with my epidural happily on board. Bryan seems to remember me pushing for much longer than I actually did. 58 minutes, to be exact. I remember the labor and delivery nurse warning me that some first time moms can push for hours and hours, and to save my strength...and I remember thinking "OH, I don't think so".
And so, at this point (6:45 a.m., December 8, 2006) I was looking at the tiny (well, not so tiny--nearly nine pounds) baby in my arms and thinking "well, NOW what am I going to do with you?".
It was all terrifying and wonderful and completely life-changing all at once.
And now my sleepy two-year old is wandering out to the livingroom to find her brand new Little Tikes shopping cart that Bryan put together for her last night. Blueberry muffins are nearly done.
Happy Birthday, Zoey!
And now I am sitting on the couch--with coffee, of course--listening to the news reports that snow could be on it's way at the end of the week...and thinking back to where I was at this time two years ago.
Zoey appeared at 5:13 a.m. on a Friday morning, December 8, 2006. My very first memory of her is looking down as she was born to see her literally fling herself in to the world--arms outstretched, with that blessed cry that all moms listen for as their babies are born. For months afterward, she would sleep with her arms flung out at her sides in exactly that manner, as if to say "here I am--I've arrived!".
Last night Bryan and I were re-living where we were on the evening of December 7, 2006. Specifically, in labor. By 9 p.m. that night I was actually starting to FEEL like I was in labor, and by 1 a.m. I was sleeping with my epidural happily on board. Bryan seems to remember me pushing for much longer than I actually did. 58 minutes, to be exact. I remember the labor and delivery nurse warning me that some first time moms can push for hours and hours, and to save my strength...and I remember thinking "OH, I don't think so".
And so, at this point (6:45 a.m., December 8, 2006) I was looking at the tiny (well, not so tiny--nearly nine pounds) baby in my arms and thinking "well, NOW what am I going to do with you?".
It was all terrifying and wonderful and completely life-changing all at once.
And now my sleepy two-year old is wandering out to the livingroom to find her brand new Little Tikes shopping cart that Bryan put together for her last night. Blueberry muffins are nearly done.
Happy Birthday, Zoey!
Sunday, December 7, 2008
A real "hoot"!
Zoey's Owl Party was so much fun!
The day couldn't have gone any better...well, I would have preferred a bit more sleep the night before, and it would have been nice if the cold I've been brewing for a week now had chosen another day to attack my sinuses full-on, but other than that, it was great. Due to the lack of sleep Friday night, Zoey went down easily for an early nap at noon on Saturday, which was PERFECT. Knowing full well that a tired toddler and a party full of people is a recipe for disaster, I was praying for a solid two-hour nap that afternoon and the birthday girl totally delivered.
Kendra and I showed up at the pizza place at 3:30 p.m. to set up for our 4:00 party, and the first words out of the high school employee's mouth were "we have a birthday party today?". At first I found that VERY disconcerting, until we both looked around at the deserted restaurant and she said "well, what section do you want?". We naturally chose the section closest to the kid's play area and set up all the owl goodies I've been working so hard on in the past couple weeks. There was even a decorated Christmas tree in our section--very festive!
Lots of Zoey's friends were able to come and they all had a blast running wild in the restaurant. Fortunately there weren't many people there until we were getting ready to clear out, so they pretty much had the run of the place. Sadly, not one of them was interested in sitting still long enough to color on his or her place mat. What was I thinking??
We only had one minor birthday-girl meltdown at present time. The first couple of presents were clothing, which were much appreciated but not terribly exciting when you're two. The first toy that got unwrapped and not actually OPENED, however, was enough to start a downward spiral in to meltdown mode. Luckily, Oma was there to wisk each gift away and hand her a new one, so we were able to move fairly quickly through the whole pile.
I think everyone had a great time--it helped that there was a football game on TV (who was playing, I have no idea...), and all the Daddies (okay, and most of us Mommies) could kick back and relax with a beer while we either watched the game or chatted with friends. My mom and sister Lisa, and Lisa's baby Lily, all drove down from Mt. Vernon, and my dad, grandma, and Bryan's mom were all here from Puyallup. It was a great group!
Oh, and the owl cupcakes? Total hit.
Enjoy the pictures!
The day couldn't have gone any better...well, I would have preferred a bit more sleep the night before, and it would have been nice if the cold I've been brewing for a week now had chosen another day to attack my sinuses full-on, but other than that, it was great. Due to the lack of sleep Friday night, Zoey went down easily for an early nap at noon on Saturday, which was PERFECT. Knowing full well that a tired toddler and a party full of people is a recipe for disaster, I was praying for a solid two-hour nap that afternoon and the birthday girl totally delivered.
Kendra and I showed up at the pizza place at 3:30 p.m. to set up for our 4:00 party, and the first words out of the high school employee's mouth were "we have a birthday party today?". At first I found that VERY disconcerting, until we both looked around at the deserted restaurant and she said "well, what section do you want?". We naturally chose the section closest to the kid's play area and set up all the owl goodies I've been working so hard on in the past couple weeks. There was even a decorated Christmas tree in our section--very festive!
Lots of Zoey's friends were able to come and they all had a blast running wild in the restaurant. Fortunately there weren't many people there until we were getting ready to clear out, so they pretty much had the run of the place. Sadly, not one of them was interested in sitting still long enough to color on his or her place mat. What was I thinking??
We only had one minor birthday-girl meltdown at present time. The first couple of presents were clothing, which were much appreciated but not terribly exciting when you're two. The first toy that got unwrapped and not actually OPENED, however, was enough to start a downward spiral in to meltdown mode. Luckily, Oma was there to wisk each gift away and hand her a new one, so we were able to move fairly quickly through the whole pile.
I think everyone had a great time--it helped that there was a football game on TV (who was playing, I have no idea...), and all the Daddies (okay, and most of us Mommies) could kick back and relax with a beer while we either watched the game or chatted with friends. My mom and sister Lisa, and Lisa's baby Lily, all drove down from Mt. Vernon, and my dad, grandma, and Bryan's mom were all here from Puyallup. It was a great group!
Oh, and the owl cupcakes? Total hit.
Enjoy the pictures!
Friday, December 5, 2008
Someone needs her meds adjusted...again...
Remember that awful day that I just KNEW was lurking around the corner?
I totally called it.
Most of the day went well, actually, until the Second in Command of the Crazy Department (Commander in Chief is still out on Loony Leave) at work picked a huge fight with me as I was getting ready to leave. I had noticed she was pissy all day, but she's the type you just generally don't want to mess with, so I've found it's best to just ignore her and she'll snap out of it. But today, wouldn't you know it, she REALLY wanted a fight so finally I gave in and took her bait. Turns out she's been angry with me and my only other normal co-worker about things that happened MONTHS ago, and today it all came pouring out. It was the kind of full disclosure that will just make your jaw drop, as you try to maintain your cool while some psychotic raging menopausal woman unloads all her baggage on you in the span of 20 minutes. It wasn't pretty.
And you know what? I HATE when things like this happen right before you're about to start a really fun weekend. Tomorrow is Zoey's big Owl Birthday Party, my mom and my sister and my new little neice will be here tonight, Sunday is the day we're going to decorate for Christmas (finally!) and Monday is Zoey's actual birthday, so I took some vacation time to spend the day with her. But when shit like this happens just as you're walking out the door, IT MAKES YOUR BRAIN HURT, because you just can not fathom how some people live with such constant anger and drama in their lives.
Anyway.
I'm feeling better now that I've had a chance to fix dinner, clean my house (scrubbing the bath tub is best reserved for days when you have to deal with The Crazies...which means my tub usually looks great and always smells of bleach...), and bake all the cupcakes we'll need for tomorrow. I will not let one of The Crazies ruin my daughter's fun birthday weekend.
And that job offer I got for the middle of February is looking VEEERRRYY promising....
I totally called it.
Most of the day went well, actually, until the Second in Command of the Crazy Department (Commander in Chief is still out on Loony Leave) at work picked a huge fight with me as I was getting ready to leave. I had noticed she was pissy all day, but she's the type you just generally don't want to mess with, so I've found it's best to just ignore her and she'll snap out of it. But today, wouldn't you know it, she REALLY wanted a fight so finally I gave in and took her bait. Turns out she's been angry with me and my only other normal co-worker about things that happened MONTHS ago, and today it all came pouring out. It was the kind of full disclosure that will just make your jaw drop, as you try to maintain your cool while some psychotic raging menopausal woman unloads all her baggage on you in the span of 20 minutes. It wasn't pretty.
And you know what? I HATE when things like this happen right before you're about to start a really fun weekend. Tomorrow is Zoey's big Owl Birthday Party, my mom and my sister and my new little neice will be here tonight, Sunday is the day we're going to decorate for Christmas (finally!) and Monday is Zoey's actual birthday, so I took some vacation time to spend the day with her. But when shit like this happens just as you're walking out the door, IT MAKES YOUR BRAIN HURT, because you just can not fathom how some people live with such constant anger and drama in their lives.
Anyway.
I'm feeling better now that I've had a chance to fix dinner, clean my house (scrubbing the bath tub is best reserved for days when you have to deal with The Crazies...which means my tub usually looks great and always smells of bleach...), and bake all the cupcakes we'll need for tomorrow. I will not let one of The Crazies ruin my daughter's fun birthday weekend.
And that job offer I got for the middle of February is looking VEEERRRYY promising....
Thursday, December 4, 2008
What was I thinking??
Maybe it was the high from having such a productive day and a toddler who was on a rare cooperative streak. But really, when I sit back and reflect (possible only because said toddler went to bed early), I realize that the delusion really set in days ago.
Every Sunday, around 10:00 a.m., I sit down with my coffee, my cookbooks, and my handy menu planner, and I plan our dinners for the entire week. It is a glorious ritual for me, one that includes sending Bryan out for a Sunday paper so that I can clip coupons, creating a fantastically long grocery list, and generally starting the week out on a nice, organized path.
And then there are weeks like this one, where the menu goes completely to shit by Tuesday and by Thursday evening I'm starting to feel guilty for all the unused produce sitting in my fridge, so I think I'd better get in gear and prepare whatever it is I had planned for the night....
...And then I realize that I planned to make Butternut Squash with Cumin Couscous. Tonight. As in, Thursday, one of the days when Bryan doesn't make it home until after 7 p.m. and I am nearly always desperate to entertain Zoey while I struggle to make a box of mac and cheese and steam some broccoli.
So, in the span of an hour, I managed to:
a) nearly set my house on fire as I turned the stove on to heat up the olive oil, went to answer the door bell, and forgot about the pan of oil as I sat and visited with the neighbor,
b) frantically chop and cook butternut squash, onion, garlic and other goodies in a yummy soup mixture as Zoey tried to "help" by dumping random spices in the pot,
c) whip up my first batch of couscous (fantastic, by the way, and the one easy thing the recipe called for), and
d) serve myself and my TODDLER a freaking gourmet meal which she proceeded to take one bite of and pronounce "yucky", then asked for chicken nuggets with dipping sauce.
And this? Is why I drink.
Every Sunday, around 10:00 a.m., I sit down with my coffee, my cookbooks, and my handy menu planner, and I plan our dinners for the entire week. It is a glorious ritual for me, one that includes sending Bryan out for a Sunday paper so that I can clip coupons, creating a fantastically long grocery list, and generally starting the week out on a nice, organized path.
And then there are weeks like this one, where the menu goes completely to shit by Tuesday and by Thursday evening I'm starting to feel guilty for all the unused produce sitting in my fridge, so I think I'd better get in gear and prepare whatever it is I had planned for the night....
...And then I realize that I planned to make Butternut Squash with Cumin Couscous. Tonight. As in, Thursday, one of the days when Bryan doesn't make it home until after 7 p.m. and I am nearly always desperate to entertain Zoey while I struggle to make a box of mac and cheese and steam some broccoli.
So, in the span of an hour, I managed to:
a) nearly set my house on fire as I turned the stove on to heat up the olive oil, went to answer the door bell, and forgot about the pan of oil as I sat and visited with the neighbor,
b) frantically chop and cook butternut squash, onion, garlic and other goodies in a yummy soup mixture as Zoey tried to "help" by dumping random spices in the pot,
c) whip up my first batch of couscous (fantastic, by the way, and the one easy thing the recipe called for), and
d) serve myself and my TODDLER a freaking gourmet meal which she proceeded to take one bite of and pronounce "yucky", then asked for chicken nuggets with dipping sauce.
And this? Is why I drink.
Like a well oiled machine...
Do you ever have one of those days when the stars just seem to be in alignment, and all goes as it should?
Yeah, I know. I don't have them very often either.
But today happened to be one of them! Zoey and I spent four hours this morning running errands, with roughly two of those hours spent letting her get in and out of the car on her own--"no hep, Mommy! No hep! Mysef!" (No help. Myself. Sure, because we've got all day...right?) We got hair cuts for both of us, and she was like some other dream-child, quietly wandering around the shop close to me as I got my hair cut, and sitting still while Lisa cut her hair. I was impressed. Then we were off to Target, where she cooperated by "hustling" (read: running along side the cart) through the store and helping me put items from my list in to the cart. (Another new-found mark of independence: Zoey has decided riding in shopping carts is for babies. Which means I need to pencil in twice the time it would normally to take to get through a store, as I watch her wander, fondle and babble her way through the aisles.) Next, because she was being SO well-behaved, was a much-deserved treat in the form of a Happy Meal. Then the bank, then the recycling center...again, it was a lot to expect of a toddler to maintain composure through all of these stops, but it seemed like as long as she was given the opportunity to crawl in to and out of her car seat on her own (as I could literally FEEL myself ageing each time), she was fine.
And then we came home, watched some Mr. Rogers, and went down for a nap without a struggle.
And then her doctor's office called to tell us her test results came back normal. Hooray! No more invasive kidney testing!!
Also? My manager from my old job at home in Puyallup called to tell me she has a job opening coming up in February, and my name is all over it.
Could anything more positive happen today? And does this mean I'm in for some kind of freakishly hellish day at work tomorrow?
Probably.
Yeah, I know. I don't have them very often either.
But today happened to be one of them! Zoey and I spent four hours this morning running errands, with roughly two of those hours spent letting her get in and out of the car on her own--"no hep, Mommy! No hep! Mysef!" (No help. Myself. Sure, because we've got all day...right?) We got hair cuts for both of us, and she was like some other dream-child, quietly wandering around the shop close to me as I got my hair cut, and sitting still while Lisa cut her hair. I was impressed. Then we were off to Target, where she cooperated by "hustling" (read: running along side the cart) through the store and helping me put items from my list in to the cart. (Another new-found mark of independence: Zoey has decided riding in shopping carts is for babies. Which means I need to pencil in twice the time it would normally to take to get through a store, as I watch her wander, fondle and babble her way through the aisles.) Next, because she was being SO well-behaved, was a much-deserved treat in the form of a Happy Meal. Then the bank, then the recycling center...again, it was a lot to expect of a toddler to maintain composure through all of these stops, but it seemed like as long as she was given the opportunity to crawl in to and out of her car seat on her own (as I could literally FEEL myself ageing each time), she was fine.
And then we came home, watched some Mr. Rogers, and went down for a nap without a struggle.
And then her doctor's office called to tell us her test results came back normal. Hooray! No more invasive kidney testing!!
Also? My manager from my old job at home in Puyallup called to tell me she has a job opening coming up in February, and my name is all over it.
Could anything more positive happen today? And does this mean I'm in for some kind of freakishly hellish day at work tomorrow?
Probably.
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
Behind the times
This is the first time--ever--in the nine years that Bryan and I have been together that we have entered the first week of December with NO Christmas decorations, no tree, and no outside lights proudly on display.
How did we get so freaking busy that we passed through Thanksgiving weekend without trading in the fall decorations for All Things Christmas, as is usually the case??
(Okay, to be fair, I realize that spending precious nap time hours making owl place mats, treat bags, and other birthday party paraphernalia DOES take away from dragging the dozen Rubbermaid bins full of Christmas decor out of the shed. In the rain.)
As I turned on to our street today and saw that our next door neighbors had beaten us to the outdoor-light-punch, I couldn't help but think that we have GOT to get with the program. Sure, we have Zoey's birthday coming up, and we just survived two semi-traumatic medical tests, Bryan has finals coming up, and I'm working longer hours because Crazy At Work called in, well, CRAZY again for another month...but it's Christmas!
(Tara, the author of one of my favorite blogs, The Snowy Vegan, has me totally inspired to get out and decorate, already. Way to go Tara! Maybe it's easier to get in the Christmas spirit when you live in Alaska and Christmas Snow officially arrives in October??)
(Oh, and a little bit of competitiveness is also driving the desire to go all out for Christmas. Because the next door neighbors? They rent. And they're new in the 'hood. Bet they're sitting in their house thinking they're the only ones in a four-house radius with any Christmas spirit. Ha! Wait 'till I send Bryan outside armed with a bucket of lights and the spirit of Tim The Toolman Taylor!)
(Oh, fine. We don't ever go all-out, National-Lampoons-Christmas-Vacation style on the lights. But our wee strand of multi-color lights will make our house look less dark sitting next door to Mr. & Mrs. Elf's place.)
How did we get so freaking busy that we passed through Thanksgiving weekend without trading in the fall decorations for All Things Christmas, as is usually the case??
(Okay, to be fair, I realize that spending precious nap time hours making owl place mats, treat bags, and other birthday party paraphernalia DOES take away from dragging the dozen Rubbermaid bins full of Christmas decor out of the shed. In the rain.)
As I turned on to our street today and saw that our next door neighbors had beaten us to the outdoor-light-punch, I couldn't help but think that we have GOT to get with the program. Sure, we have Zoey's birthday coming up, and we just survived two semi-traumatic medical tests, Bryan has finals coming up, and I'm working longer hours because Crazy At Work called in, well, CRAZY again for another month...but it's Christmas!
(Tara, the author of one of my favorite blogs, The Snowy Vegan, has me totally inspired to get out and decorate, already. Way to go Tara! Maybe it's easier to get in the Christmas spirit when you live in Alaska and Christmas Snow officially arrives in October??)
(Oh, and a little bit of competitiveness is also driving the desire to go all out for Christmas. Because the next door neighbors? They rent. And they're new in the 'hood. Bet they're sitting in their house thinking they're the only ones in a four-house radius with any Christmas spirit. Ha! Wait 'till I send Bryan outside armed with a bucket of lights and the spirit of Tim The Toolman Taylor!)
(Oh, fine. We don't ever go all-out, National-Lampoons-Christmas-Vacation style on the lights. But our wee strand of multi-color lights will make our house look less dark sitting next door to Mr. & Mrs. Elf's place.)
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
God bless Versed
You all probably remember my posts from a few weeks ago regarding Zoey's horrible kidney infection--the one that landed us in the ER, and also signaled her pediatrician to order some more tests to make sure her kidneys are functioning properly. Well, she had her tests done today and I am happy to report that we all survived quite nicely.
Bryan and I opted to take Zoey down to Portland, to Legacy Emanuel Hospital, since they are the children's hospital in our network. That turned out to be an excellent choice, as every single nurse and technologist that we worked with today was nothing less than fabulous.
(As Zoey and I slowly made our way down I-5 this morning I was reminded of how grateful I am to not have that commute to deal with anymore. Ugh.)
First on the agenda was an ultrasound of her kidneys--not painful, but potentially difficult to perform given the squirminess factor of Zoey's age group. Basha, the ultrasound tech, came out to greet us and I liked her instantly--a soft-spoken older German woman, she spoke directly to Zoey in a quiet, calm voice. Of course, she happened to be asking if Zoey would take her binky out, because she wanted to see her pretty face without it, but I still liked her anyway. Zoey refused to make eye contact with her, as if to say she wasn't going to dignify that question with a response. When we got back to the ultrasound room, Basha took her time showing Zoey all the equipment, letting her stick her fingers in the ultrasound gel and hold the "wand" in her hand to "help" with the test. An ultrasound of your kidneys requires that you lay on your belly, so Basha had me lay on the table with Zoey laying on top of me, which was much more calming for everyone. The test took about 10-15 minutes and, because Basha seemed to be completely unhurried, Zoey did fabulous and was quite cooperative.
Then we returned to the waiting room for 45 more minutes before being called back by Dwayne, a radiology tech, for the more nerve-wracking of the procedures. A voiding cysto-ureothrogram (or VCUG in medical lingo) involves inserting a catheter, putting dye in the bladder, and taking x-ray images as you pee to make sure there isn't any urine washing back up from the bladder in to the kidneys. Sounds vaguely uncomfortable for a grown adult, and horrifying to a parent about to subject their child to such a test. And then Zoey's pediatrician said the magic words...sedation. While I was happy to know that she would be comfortable and relaxed during the procedure, this brought with it a whole new set of worries: how would they sedate her, exactly? Would they have to start an IV? Would Bryan and I be able to stay with her?
As it turns out, I had nothing to worry about. Dwayne brought us back to a room where we also met Kristin, a radiology-tech-student, and both of them were great at talking to Zoey, offering her books to look at, stickers to pick out, etc. Kim, the RN, came in shortly after and THAT is when I started to feel so much more at ease. Maybe because I am a nurse too, I don't know, but it seems like we speak the same language and she was so great at understanding that even though I'm a nurse and can understand most of what's going on, it doesn't negate the fact that I'm still a nervous parent who needs lots of reassurance and education about what will be happening to my child.
Kim explained that she would give Zoey some oral Versed--a medicine by mouth that would just make her loopy and relaxed and basically not really care what was going on around her. Also, Bryan and I would stay in the room throughout the procedure to comfort her. So, there went my fears--no IV and no having to leave my child. Excellent.
Once we got Zoey changed in to a gown and the dose of Versed down her throat, it took about 20 minutes for her to start to look a little...strange. Very smiley, and her eyes were having a tough time focusing on pretty much anything. We layed her on the x-ray table at that point and Kim put the catheter in--Zoey wasn't a huge fan of that, but it was about a million times less traumatic than the LAST catheter experience we had. Bryan and I both put on lead aprons to wear during the procedure, and stood on either side of Zoey to sing to her, read to her, and generally distract her.
The first thing that caught her attention was my lead apron--a shiny black sparkly number. She took one look at it and in her best two-year-old drunken slur told me "oh Mommy, that's niiiiice", except it came out like this "oh Mommy thash niiiiiiiiiiiiissshhhhe". She's a light weight, apparently.
The rest of the test took about 20 minutes and Zoey tolerated it fairly well. She got a little nervous when they had to roll her from side to side, and by the end she was well on her way to a freak-out, but we managed to get her off the table before a full-on meltdown. Her reward? A grape popsicle, and all the stickers that Kristin could find to stuff in her wee little hands.
Our mistake? Taking the grape popsicle away in it's last melty stage. THAT is what ultimately lead to her un-doing...we're talking major, kicking-screaming-arching-back tantrum that lasted ALL THE WAY HOME. Awful. Not to mention that I was lost in the ghetto part of Portland trying to find my way back to I-5 as my delirious toddler frantically clawed at the lining of her car seat. I couldn't stop to comfort her for fear of becoming Portland's next drive-by shooting victim, so we just kept going as Zoey worked herself up more, and more, and more.
Once we finally made it home, we got comfy on the couch with her binky, her beloved kitty blanket, and some serious Mr. Rogers viewing-time. I felt bad as she sat there doing that half-hiccup cry that kids do when they're winding down from a freak-out. But after that, she was fine--a little more cranky than normal, but she's in bed now, so hopefully we're in for a restful night.
Like I said before, I am so incredibly grateful to the nurses and techs who worked with us today and did such a fabulous job putting us at ease. They made the difference.
Bryan and I opted to take Zoey down to Portland, to Legacy Emanuel Hospital, since they are the children's hospital in our network. That turned out to be an excellent choice, as every single nurse and technologist that we worked with today was nothing less than fabulous.
(As Zoey and I slowly made our way down I-5 this morning I was reminded of how grateful I am to not have that commute to deal with anymore. Ugh.)
First on the agenda was an ultrasound of her kidneys--not painful, but potentially difficult to perform given the squirminess factor of Zoey's age group. Basha, the ultrasound tech, came out to greet us and I liked her instantly--a soft-spoken older German woman, she spoke directly to Zoey in a quiet, calm voice. Of course, she happened to be asking if Zoey would take her binky out, because she wanted to see her pretty face without it, but I still liked her anyway. Zoey refused to make eye contact with her, as if to say she wasn't going to dignify that question with a response. When we got back to the ultrasound room, Basha took her time showing Zoey all the equipment, letting her stick her fingers in the ultrasound gel and hold the "wand" in her hand to "help" with the test. An ultrasound of your kidneys requires that you lay on your belly, so Basha had me lay on the table with Zoey laying on top of me, which was much more calming for everyone. The test took about 10-15 minutes and, because Basha seemed to be completely unhurried, Zoey did fabulous and was quite cooperative.
Then we returned to the waiting room for 45 more minutes before being called back by Dwayne, a radiology tech, for the more nerve-wracking of the procedures. A voiding cysto-ureothrogram (or VCUG in medical lingo) involves inserting a catheter, putting dye in the bladder, and taking x-ray images as you pee to make sure there isn't any urine washing back up from the bladder in to the kidneys. Sounds vaguely uncomfortable for a grown adult, and horrifying to a parent about to subject their child to such a test. And then Zoey's pediatrician said the magic words...sedation. While I was happy to know that she would be comfortable and relaxed during the procedure, this brought with it a whole new set of worries: how would they sedate her, exactly? Would they have to start an IV? Would Bryan and I be able to stay with her?
As it turns out, I had nothing to worry about. Dwayne brought us back to a room where we also met Kristin, a radiology-tech-student, and both of them were great at talking to Zoey, offering her books to look at, stickers to pick out, etc. Kim, the RN, came in shortly after and THAT is when I started to feel so much more at ease. Maybe because I am a nurse too, I don't know, but it seems like we speak the same language and she was so great at understanding that even though I'm a nurse and can understand most of what's going on, it doesn't negate the fact that I'm still a nervous parent who needs lots of reassurance and education about what will be happening to my child.
Kim explained that she would give Zoey some oral Versed--a medicine by mouth that would just make her loopy and relaxed and basically not really care what was going on around her. Also, Bryan and I would stay in the room throughout the procedure to comfort her. So, there went my fears--no IV and no having to leave my child. Excellent.
Once we got Zoey changed in to a gown and the dose of Versed down her throat, it took about 20 minutes for her to start to look a little...strange. Very smiley, and her eyes were having a tough time focusing on pretty much anything. We layed her on the x-ray table at that point and Kim put the catheter in--Zoey wasn't a huge fan of that, but it was about a million times less traumatic than the LAST catheter experience we had. Bryan and I both put on lead aprons to wear during the procedure, and stood on either side of Zoey to sing to her, read to her, and generally distract her.
The first thing that caught her attention was my lead apron--a shiny black sparkly number. She took one look at it and in her best two-year-old drunken slur told me "oh Mommy, that's niiiiice", except it came out like this "oh Mommy thash niiiiiiiiiiiiissshhhhe". She's a light weight, apparently.
The rest of the test took about 20 minutes and Zoey tolerated it fairly well. She got a little nervous when they had to roll her from side to side, and by the end she was well on her way to a freak-out, but we managed to get her off the table before a full-on meltdown. Her reward? A grape popsicle, and all the stickers that Kristin could find to stuff in her wee little hands.
Our mistake? Taking the grape popsicle away in it's last melty stage. THAT is what ultimately lead to her un-doing...we're talking major, kicking-screaming-arching-back tantrum that lasted ALL THE WAY HOME. Awful. Not to mention that I was lost in the ghetto part of Portland trying to find my way back to I-5 as my delirious toddler frantically clawed at the lining of her car seat. I couldn't stop to comfort her for fear of becoming Portland's next drive-by shooting victim, so we just kept going as Zoey worked herself up more, and more, and more.
Once we finally made it home, we got comfy on the couch with her binky, her beloved kitty blanket, and some serious Mr. Rogers viewing-time. I felt bad as she sat there doing that half-hiccup cry that kids do when they're winding down from a freak-out. But after that, she was fine--a little more cranky than normal, but she's in bed now, so hopefully we're in for a restful night.
Like I said before, I am so incredibly grateful to the nurses and techs who worked with us today and did such a fabulous job putting us at ease. They made the difference.
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