Shopping is just not the same anymore...

I used to love shopping.  Now I dread it.

I decided to take a venture to Marshfield today to get some baby stuff we needed and things for Thanksgiving.  First of all, I can't just pack up Landyn and go whenever I want.  I have to carefully plan it out around his eating and sleeping schedule so that I can get the maximum amount of shopping in.  I fed him at 10 and wanted to leave right after that. 
I didn't get on the road until 10:52.  Wonderful. 

I am on the road for about 10 minutes and I see his eyes getting heavy--really?  He just woke up from a nap!  So I start talking to him to try to keep him awake and distracted.  It worked.  Ok great.  We are about 2 minutes from Marshfield and I hear the famous "poop grunts".  UGH.  I had to go to Walmart first (I have been boycotting them but had to go there to get some things that only they have--blah).  The last place I'll step foot in, unless it's a bodily function emergency, is Walmart's bathrooms.  So I decided to change Landyn's diaper in the backseat of my car.  Not ideal, but better than the alternative.

I finally have him ready and hop out of the car to grab a cart from the cart return.  Yes, I have resorted to parking next to cart returns at all the stores I go to now.  My dad would cringe at this thought.  He would NEVER park next to a cart return.  He tries not to park next to another vehicle if he can help it.  That is why his vehicles look brand new even when they've had them for a couple years.  I don't care about my vehicle getting dinged by a possessed stray cart---All I care about is carrying a 20 pound baby, diaper bag, and any other crap I have into the store.  Loading it all into a cart in the parking lot is so much easier!

I successfully get my shopping at Walmart done and head to Target (I could live at that store--LOVE IT).  By this point, Landyn was starting to get cranky and tired.  I'm trying to hurry but there is just so much I have to get!  I swear, I can't turn my head for one second and he's sucking on the cart handle (GROSS!), pulling crap off of shelves, or doing some sort of acrobatics in the cart.  I hurry it up because I know my "shopping window" is slowing closing.  I get to the Target check outs and realize I have forgotten my Target reusable shopping bags (that save you 5 cents per bag each time you use them) in the car.  I look around to see if there is anyone trustworthy that would watch my cart and Landyn while I go out and get them.  I decide that having Landyn get kidnapped is not worth the 10 cents.

I head home and he falls asleep.  I tell myself it's fine because it's only 20 minutes.  I get home, feed him, and try to put him back down for his nap.  I guess the shopping trip messed with his schedule too much because he's been fighting his nap for close to 2 hours now.  Grrrrrr.......

I am exhausted and all I did was go on a short shopping trip.  How do people do it with 2, 3, 4, 5, 9, 10, 24 kids??!?!?!  I think I'm going to start shopping online for everything...

Today's topic: Public Restrooms

Public restrooms.  Oh how I have a love/hate relationship with you.  Often times I find you very convenient.  Other times when I step foot in you, I feel like gagging.

I don't think businesses know how important it is to have clean bathrooms.  I just cannot stand walking into one and finding that 5 out of the 6 stalls have pee or poop in the toilets because no one flushed.  What is so hard about flushing a toilet?  Come on people--you're killing me here.  I also cannot stand to find remnants of someone's pee or poop on the toilet seat.  UGHHHH!  Ever since I was a little girl, my mom taught us to put toilet paper down on the seat before we sit on it.  I still do it to this day.  Sometimes that is even not enough.  Another pet peeve is when I hear the person next to me flush the toilet and walk out without washing their hands.  I think an alarm and flashing light should sound each time someone does this so the whole store or restaurant knows to avoid them and their disgusting pee or poop hands.

I haven't blogged for awhile because two weeks ago I ended up in the hospital with a bacterial infection called C-Diff.  Ever heard of it?  Google it.  It's NASTY.  You get it from taking antibiotics (not my case--I wasn't on any antibiotics) or from fecal-oral transfer.  You do the math---yes, I ate someone's nasty $hit (not knowingly!).  My fellow Americans---wash your hands after using the restroom!!!!!!!!!!!!

Ok, I need to get back on track here. The main reason I am writing today about public restrooms is because now that I am a mother, I have a new annoyance with public restrooms.  It's not a big dump sitting in the toilet, it's not pee all over the seat, it's not no soap or paper towels, it's not someone not washing their hands.....

It's NOT HAVING A BABY CHANGING STATION?!?!?!?!??!?!?

Men's restrooms have urinals for their convenience.  Most bathrooms have a handicap stall.  This is catering to specific needs.  But who is thinking of a MOTHER'S needs?  Not all businesses.  And it makes me mental.  I don't know how many times I've gone into a public restroom and there is no baby changing station.  Before I had Landyn, I wouldn't have thought twice about this.  I don't know how many times I've had to change him on a sink counter or on the floor (good thing we have a diaper changing mat that I have to disinfect every time I do this).

I think it should be a state law that all bathrooms have a baby changing station.  I can't imagine they cost that much.  And I can't imagine they are that hard to install.  I am drafting a letter to Governor Walker as I type this...not really, but I should. 

Anyone out there feel the same way?  I can't be the only one!

The dreaded questions...

There are two questions I am asked repeatedly when I am out and about town with my baby...

1.  Is he a good baby?

2.  Does he sleep through the night?

Whenever I run into someone I know it's almost a guarantee that I will be asked at least one of these questions if not both.  I was just at the dentist today---the hygienist asked me both questions and then the dentist came in and he also asked me both!  Then I went to the grocery store and ran into two people I knew and they both asked the "good baby" question.

I often pause when people ask "Is he a good baby".  What do people expect you to say?  I can imagine their face when I say "Actually, he's a horrible, horrible baby."  Of course no mother is going to say that (although some days I think it--and don't judge me--you know you all have thought it too!)  I just often wonder what qualifications are needed to be a "good baby"?  I really don't think such a thing exists.

The second question just irritates me. No, he does not sleep through the night.  But thanks for asking and reminding me of this and the fact that I have not slept a full night in 3 months and don't expect to for a long time.  Those people whose kids were sleeping through the night at 2, 4, 6, or even 8 weeks---good for you (and I hate you--just kidding.  Actually, I'm not).

If you read this blog, and I see you out and about and you ask me one of these questions, I will forgive you.  I know they are just common questions that people ask.  I probably did it too before I had my own child. 

All joking aside, my sweet baby boy turned 3 months old today.  Where has the time gone?  He brings me such joy.  His smile lights up a room.  I can't imagine my life without him.  God is good!  And he really truly is a "good baby"...most days.

P.S.--All this "Royal Baby" talk today is making me sick.  Anyone else agree?

Do HazMat suits come in hot pink?

I'll admit it...when I found out I was pregnant, I really really really hoped for a girl. When we found out it was a boy, I was a little crushed but ready for the challenge. 

You may ask--why a challenge?

I come from a family of all girls.  I have two sisters.  My aunt that I am really close to has three girls.  My little sister was born when I was in 5th grade, and I babysat her ALOT.  So I guess you could say I am more comfortable around girls.

But once my son was born, I learned rather quickly to get used to the male gender.  And the most obvious difference is that darn penis.  When I first opened his diaper in the hospital to change it, I was a little shocked.  I honestly had never changed a boy diaper.  I thought to myself---what the heck do I do with that thing? 

I had heard these stories of people getting peed on while changing a diaper (especially with boys) so I was super careful when we first got home and was changing his diaper.  I had a new diaper ready under him before I opened the dirty diaper (a helpful hint from my good friend, Kim!) and was ready to do the fast switcher-roo.  To my surprise it really wasn't that hard.  I think I got a little too cocky because one night while changing a 2:00 AM diaper while half asleep I felt a spray all over me--WONDERFUL. 

I will never forget my first Mother's Day for as long as a live.  My husband went to change Landyn's diaper and all of a sudden I heard him yell "Help me!"  I go into the nursery and there is pee everywhere.  We get the mess cleaned up, feed the baby, and my husband goes to change him again.  Now you'd think he would have learned his lesson from the previous diaper change 30 minutes earlier.  Nope!  I hear him yelling for help again and go in there and there is pee everywhere again!  This time when we picked Landyn up, he literally was lying in a puddle of pee.  To the bathtub he went for a bath!  We were laughing so hard we were crying.

Today we had quite the episode at our house.  My husband was feeding Landyn and all of a sudden I heard a loud noise followed by my husband busting out laughing.  I asked my husband if it was a burp and he said it was a fart.  Well it was more than a fart because he looked down at his hand and saw that it was full of poop that was coming up the back of the diaper and up Landyn's back and through his clothes.  So I take him into his room to attempt to get the poop clothes off.  Once we got them off, I left him there with my husband to get some washcloths to clean him up.  Of course, we never thought---get a new diaper on him NOW.  We left him lying there without one on and suddenly I hear my husband yelling.  This by far was the worst pee spray he's done so far.  It was all over the wall, on the wall hanging his auntie made him, all over his baskets on his changing table that are filled with diapers and wipes, all over his legs, changing mat cover, and changing table.  Unbelievable.  This soon turned into a 30 minute-clean-up-the-baby ordeal.

I don't know if I'm ready for the next 18 years of raising a boy but I'm sure I'll manage.  I've already decided it's my husband's job to deal with any "penis-related" things in the future.  I think that is only fair.  He can teach him how to scratch himself and pee in the woods and all those "boy" things.

And I have come to the conclusion that I need to wear a HazMat suit when changing the baby--do you think they come in hot pink?  It's my favorite color.

When God made Adam and Eve...

I have come to this conclusion---when God made Adam and Eve, he forgot one small detail.  When women have children, they need a third arm.

It's something He overlooked--and He's a man--so I'll let it slide (they don't think of these things).  But it sure would have been nice.  As the baby grows inside of a woman during pregnancy, the mother should also be growing a third arm at the same time.  And when that baby pops out, so does your third arm.

There are so many times during the day I wish I just had one more hand! 

When I'm changing a squirmy baby's diaper, I need another hand to either hold a flailing leg or arm from plunging into poop, grab a wipe, grab a new diaper, quickly close the diaper before I get peed on, ETC.

I also need a third arm when I'm feeding my son.  We're still trying to get the hang of how much formula he needs at a feeding--it ranges from 4-6 ounces.  No fail, whenever I mix up 4 ounces, he is hungry for 6.  Whenever I mix 6, he only eats 4.  UGHHH!  But when he needs more, and is screaming with hunger pains, a third arm would be very handy to unscrew the bottle, pour more powder in, get water, and shake, shake, shake (all while still holding the screaming baby).

When you do finally sit down to feed the baby, one arm is holding him and the other the bottle.  That leaves no arm to do anything else--read a book, use the phone, change the TV channel, etc.  I've pretty much mastered holding the bottle in his mouth by balancing it with my chin--but that I can only do for about 4.3 seconds which does not leave much time to get something done.

My son loves to go on walks.  We go everyday unless it's raining.  Sometimes if it's around nap time he's a little fussy until he falls asleep.  This is when the pacifier comes into the equation.  Have you ever tried to keep pushing a stroller (because if you stop, you have a screaming baby) while trying to hold a pacifier in a baby's mouth because he keeps spitting it out?  I probably look like a real winner walking down the street trying to do this.  I need a third arm!

A trip to the store would be easier with another arm.  When I go to the grocery store, I am carrying the diaper bag, car seat with a 13 pound baby in it, and my reusable grocery bags.  Most grocery stores have automatic doors--thank the LORD!  But some stores (Shopko in Abbotsford, come on!) don't have automatic doors.  Try carrying all of that stuff and open the door and the same time.  Or get a cart from the parking lot to put everything in, push it to the door, and have to get a cart through the non-automatic door.  Not an easy task.  But with a third arm, it would be a breeze!

Life would be so much easier with just one more arm.  But as a mother, you learn to adjust and find ways to do things with the two you have.  That is why God chose women to be mothers (and that is why we do not have a third arm---He must have known we could handle it!)

Paranoid

I am often a paranoid individual.

I will admit...this did not just happen overnight when I became a mother.  I have always struggled with this.  I worry about EVERYTHING.  Just ask my husband...it drives him nuts.  He is always telling me, "Stop worrying so much."  I just can't help it.

But becoming a mother has only escalated my paranoia to an all new level. And I think the main cause of this is because of one thing....the baby monitor.

I have a love/hate relationship with the baby monitor.  I admit, it's a pretty awesome invention.  It makes life much easier as a parent.  You can go about your day as the baby sleeps and not have to check on him constantly to make sure he's ok. 

Wait...I never actually do that.  Because even though I take the baby monitor everywhere with me (I should just superglue it to my head) I still find myself sneaking into his room to make sure he's ok.  And I don't just do this once during naptime--I do it multiple times.

WHY, WHY, WHY can't I just trust the baby monitor?  If he starts choking, I will hear it.  If he wakes up, I will hear it.  For some reason, I just can't trust the baby monitor.  I've tried...just can't do it.

I recently went to visit my sister for a weekend.  I obviously didn't take the baby monitors with me.  So each time I put him to sleep and shut the bedroom door, I felt this heaviness in my chest.  I found myself often checking on him as he napped to make sure he was ok.  My sister was like, "What are you doing?  If he starts crying, we'll hear him.  He's fine."  Well easy for her to say.  She has two small children.  I'm sure with her first daughter, she did the same thing.  When the second one comes along, I think you get to the point where you stop worrying so much. 

Just last night, I woke up at 2 AM and thought to myself--why hasn't Landyn gotten up yet?  He went to bed early and I figured he would have gotten up by this time to eat.  Of course, I had to get out of bed and sneak in his room. There I found him snoring loudly and in a deep sleep (he slept almost 10 hours last night!)  I just couldn't trust that darn baby monitor.

One of these days, I know it will get easier and I'll lighten up a bit.  But I will never stop worrying about my baby boy.  He will be 18 years old and I'll probably still be sneaking in his room to check on him (but it will be to see if he is home by his curfew!)

Gotta go...just heard a hiccup on the baby monitor.  Have to check on the baby!  :-)

I am...my mother's daughter!

Last week I had to go to our church to fill out some paperwork.  As I was filling it out, I was chit chatting with the secretaries.  And both of them said, "Wow, if we weren't looking at you, we would have thought you were your mother.  Your voice sounds just like hers."

Um....WHAT?  I thought to myself---that can't be!  Take it back!  Say it isn't so!  But instead I just smiled and laughed.  As I got outside, I just had to chuckle to myself.  Because, truth is, I am becoming more and more like my mother each day.

Now say that to me 10 years ago and I probably would have cried for days and went into a deep depression.  When I was younger, I did not appreciate my mother and would have told you--"I am never going to grow up and be like my mother!!!"  But as I get older, and wiser, I realize that becoming more like my own mother is not such a bad thing.  My mom is one of the smartest people I know.  I admire her for her hard work and the love she gives her family.  I can honestly say that she is one of my heroes. 

I know that I am turning into my mother when I makes lists.  I LOVE making lists.  If I don't make a list of what I need to do, I feel like I'll forget it.  I am paranoid about missing things--appointments, events, etc.  I put reminders in my phone like a crazy person.  I don't just have it alert me an hour before the event--I have it alert me 1 day prior, 2 hours before, and at the time of the event.  I make lists of what to get when I go shopping.  I make lists of what I need to get done for the week.  I make lists for my husband (he loves them...NOT).  And I know that I got this trait from my mother who also makes lists for EVERYTHING.  Growing up, during the summer, I always knew when I woke up and went downstairs to eat breakfast that on the kitchen table would be my "list".  This list would consist of the chores I needed to get done before I could have any "fun".  I always went through and did the easy tasks first so I could cross them off and it would look like my list was getting shorter.  I know that once my kids get older, I will make them lists.  Why break tradition now? (I am a third generation list maker--my mom got this trait from my grandpa!)

I also know that I am turning into my mother when I annoyingly rip the covers off my sleeping husband and yell "Rise and Shine, morning is a-wasting!"  I think it's funny to do myself, but growing up when my mom did this to us on a summer morning when all we wanted to do was sleep in, I was SUPER annoyed by it.  And if we didn't get up the first time, she'd keep doing it.  I am totally going to do this to my kids once they are older.

Here are some other things my mom made us do that I will probably end up doing to my kids also...

One summer, she decided that my sister and I were not friendly enough.  So we had to say hi to 10 strangers within the course of the day before we could play.  My sister and I road our bikes around town each morning looking for "strangers" so we could say hi to them.  The people in our town probably thought we were crazy riding around yelling "HI" to everyone.  But it really did make us more friendly in the end.

One of my jobs I often had to do was dust.  And let me tell you, there was no "cheater" dusting in our house.  Sometimes I'd try to just move things and only dust in the front of them so it looked like they were completely dusted--I would always get busted!  My mom would put on a white glove and "check" my dusting.  If she got five finger tips full of dust, I had to start all over and re-dust until it was done correctly.  I HATED dusting.  But looking back at it now, she was just trying to teach me a lesson not to do things half-a$$ed.

I was very involved in our local 4-H Club when I was younger.  Every year, we would sign up for about 100 projects to take to our county fair.  Each year the fair is in August.  But I would procrastinate and not start on my projects until June or July and then it'd be a mad rush to try and get them done on time.  My mom would make me complete a certain number of projects a day leading up to the fair so that I'd get them all done.  I complained and complained about this.  I wanted to go outside and play with my friends!  But now I am thankful for this. 4-H taught me so many life lessons--how to cook, bake, sew, and much more!  My kids are definitely going to join 4-H!

I'm sure my mom is going to cringe reading this post.  But I really do truly appreciate all she made me do when I was younger as it has shaped me into the person I am today.  Love you, Mom!

P.S. Now that this post is done, I can cross it off my "To-Do List"!!!!!!!!!!  :-)