It was a good year

Emmie (rocking her new hairstyle) and Jack (rocking his shameless commercialism) would like to wish you all a Happy New Year!

When 2008 dawned, I was trying my best not to go into labor while Josh was at the Rose Bowl. We had one child and a multi-unit house.

As 2008 draws to a close, we have a single-family house that is home to two kids. This year has been very good for us both personally and professionally. But we are most thankful for our family, friends and good health.

I wish all of you a Happy New Year! Now I am off to eat Mexican food and drink some adult beverages, followed by a morning of sleeping in. Apparently, 2009 is going to start off on the right foot as the children are sleeping over at Grandma and Grandpa's house!

Random questions

So I have a bunch of weird unconnected assvice requests for you all.

1. If your child did not want to drink milk when you weaned them, what did you do?
We decided to give Emmie some whole-milk yogurt this weekend to see how she tolerated it. I am pleased to report, no reactions! Which meant we figured it was safe to see if she would tolerate a little whole milk. Unfortunately, she believed we were trying to assassinate her and violently refused to drink it. She would not drink it from a cup, she would not drink it down or up. She would not drink it from a bottle, she would not, could not, even with threats of throttle. So, uh, yeah. We're T-minus three weeks from weaning and she wants nothing to do with whole milk. Awesome! (She will, however, drink breastmilk from a bottle or water from a sippy with no problem. So I don't think it has anything to do with the container.)

2. How do you make a moist turkey breast at home?
For the second time on recent memory, I bought a high-quality, boneless turkey breast (paid 12 freaking dollars for it) and threw it in the slowcooker covered with chicken broth. For the second time in recent memory, said turkey breast was dry and awful. We threw out the leftovers it was so bad. Anyone know how you could possibly have a dry turkey breast when immersing it in liquid?

3. If you are a stay-at-home parent, do you get a "day off" each week? And if so, does your spouse get a "day off" too? How do you handle this?
Not that anyone in this house argues about who spends what time doing what. Nope. Everything here is sunshine and rainbows. In fact, I just got back from feeding the unicorn we keep outside. It shits money, too! We're just hunky-dory here.

4. I need to branch out in my designer jeans ownership. What brand can you recommend?
I am a devoted wearer of Seven For All Mankind. But I am in need of a new pair -- I'm down to my pre-Emmie-pregnancy weight and all my old jeans require the use of a belt or I flash the whole world my ass-crack every time I bend down. So wondering if there's anything better out there. I have Christmas money for new jeans that's burning a hole in my pocket. (Ha! Pocket, jeans, I kill myself.)

Assvice welcomed and encouraged, please!

Merry Christmas from all of us at Snarky Mommy

Santa was good to us this year. Hope you and yours had a delightful holiday.

What time is it?

Tonight I was so exhausted that I literally begged Josh to play with the kids so I could lie down for a few minutes. After much sighing and protestation that he was working, I kicked him out of the bedroom and laid down on the bed.

I was asleep within seconds, but awoke with a start when I heard Jack yelling. I thought I had been asleep for hours and when I looked for Josh next to me, he wasn't in bed. I figured he had stayed up late playing video games again, which is nothing out of the ordinary.

But when rolled over and checked the clock I thought it was 5:50 in the morning and Jack was yelling because he was sick and I literally leaped out of bed and ran into the hall. Where I discovered it was 5:50 at night and the reason Josh wasn't in bed was because normal people are not usually sleeping at that hour of the day.

Hap-happiest time of the year

Oh my lord am I wiped out and Christmas is still three days away.

This past weekend we had a family wedding, so that meant a rehearsal dinner on Friday, ceremony and reception on Saturday and brunch on Sunday. It was also Josh's family Hannukah party right after the brunch. Then we went to my sister-in-law's house for dinner on Sunday night. After we got home from that, I wrapped all our presents for two hours before falling into bed.

Jack slept over at Grandma and Grandpa's house last night, but I realized this morning I should have suggested Emmie go instead because at least you can get stuff done with Jack around because he'll either help or play nicely by himself. Emmie just crawls around behind me when I am getting stuff done and screeches until I pick her up or play with her. It makes me feel quite popular, but also a little creeped out because I now have a second shadow.

After cleaning two bathrooms and the kitchen, doing some laundry, packing everything for Josh's family Christmas, arranging all the presents for our family under the tree, buying all the ingredients for Christmas morning breakfast (since we won't be home until the late hours of Christmas Eve and grocery store options are non-existent the next morning) and getting all the presents in order for my family's Christmas, I finally packed clothes and whatnot for all of us and packed up the car. Yes, by myself. Someone was working.

The last thing I had to do was make the ice cream pie to take to my family's Christmas dinner on Thursday. I needed to let the ice cream soften (Baskin Robbins' hand-packed Mint Chocolate Chip, the pre-pack tastes totally different, so it's worth the extra cash) and then spread it around in one of those pre-made Oreo cookie crusts. I am fancy like that. As I tried to brush some of the loose crumbs into the sink, the whole crust slid out and smashed into a million pieces. All righty then. I ran to the store to get another one, thus delaying our departure and Emmie's nap. And of course, they didn't have any. So now I am just going to take the half-gallon of ice cream and six spoons -- Merry F-ing Christmas, you'll eat it and like it.

As usual, things are crazy and go-go-go and I am pretty sure we had three fights just getting out of the damn house. Apparently I should learn to walk through doors instead of opening them and leaving them propped open as I carry all the presents and luggage and computer bags and diaper bags and portable high chairs and snacks outside to the car BY MYSELF when it's 2 degrees. But I digress.

What's your holiday preparation schedule looking like?

Wrapping it up

Just this evening, I secured the penultimate Christmas gift on my list. I have one thing - ONE! -- left to buy.

Of course, the only gifts I have wrapped are the ones I don't want Josh to see. Which leaves approximately 40 other things to wrap. It's all in little piles in our bedroom, in front of my dresser, which prohibits me from opening the drawers, which means I can't put the laundry away, so it languishes in the basket at the foot of the bed.

Apparently I need to get busy. Or I need to wish really, really hard that the present-wrapping fairy visits my house tonight. Maybe if I leave her a glass of wine, sort of like leaving Santa a plate of cookies, she will stop at my house. I'll let you know how that works out for me.

Emmie: Eleven months

Dear Emmie,

We're almost there! You turned 11 months old today, which means we're officially in your 12th month, which means you are officially freaking me out with how fast you are growing up. Please slow down, just for this month, mkay?



What a crazy last month it has been for you, too. Your mobility has increased greatly, with you speed-crawling on all fours and cruising upright around the furniture. You've started to let go and balance for a few short seconds as well, so we're convinced it won't be long before you're taking those first steps. Your newfound abilities mean I can't take my eyes off you for a second anymore because if I do, you inevitably start eating road salt off our boots in the front hall or trying to lick your brother's potty seat in the bathroom or climbing up the stairs by yourself. If only I could put your growing independence to good use for things like folding laundry, we'd be in business.

A lot of that laundry I speak of consists of your bibs because you really get into your eating. This past month you started feeding yourself more and more and I would say you're eating about 90 percent tablefood now. You will eat pretty much anything we put in front of you, which is amazing to us because we had the ultimate picky eater in your brother, so the idea of a baby actually eating peas or banana in real-people form is mind-blowing. You love scrambled egg yolks, pancakes, hummus and pita bread, almond butter or turkey sandwiches and rice cheese. Peas and carrots are a big hit and I think you might actually lose consciousness when you see the wrapper for a cereal bar. You get so excited that you kick your legs and wave your arms and generally make excited noises until you get the first bite in your little mouth. You haven't had any dairy products directly yet, but you seem to be tolerating me eating more cheese and ice cream, so I have high hopes that we can introduce dairy next month with little problem.



You're still breastfeeding four times during the day and once or twice overnight. While I am looking forward to starting the weaning process next month, I am also feeling a little conflicted about it. I am not sure how we will eliminate these nightwakings you are so fond of without the boob to soothe you back to sleep. I was all ready with the cry-it-out earlier this month and you even slept through a few times, but then the illness train stopped at our house and it all went to pieces.



Earlier in the month, you were fighting off a cold that was mostly a runny nose. I thought you had kicked it, but it came back within a week. That time it also brought multiple wakeups in the middle of the night and a fever. When you came down with what looked like a mottled rash, I took you in to the doctor and they said it was a double ear infection. They gave you some Amoxicillin and you were good as new. Until a week had gone by and you were covered in a rash that made you look like a leper. I took you back to the doctor and he said, after one look at you, that it was a classic penicillin allergy. But your ears were all clear, so we were A-OK. Until the next week, when multiple night wakings, green snot and a fever once again made an appearance. Yet another trip to the doctor confirmed another double ear infection. I am really hoping this means we're getting all your sicknesses out of the way early in the winter and you won't have any later on.

Your illnesses made you a little cranky, but you were pretty much still your sunny little self. Even when you had a fever, you were always happy to smile and play with your toys and you even learned how to play peek-a-boo at the pharmacy while we waited for your prescription. Now that's what I call a good patient. You also still wanted to play with your brother, despite your sickness and the fact he pretty much makes your life not very fun right now. Ever since you learned to stand and reach for things, he has tried to protect his turf by pushing you down. He could spend half the day in timeout for all his aggressiveness toward you, so if you ever want to get back at him for this when you are older, you have my permission. He does love you, which he demonstrates by hugging you and kissing you and trying to share his food with you. But things are a little rough in the sibling relations department right now. I know they will get better and then worse and then better again. It's the ebb and flow of a family, I guess.



Even when Jack is trying to keep you down, you are such a sweet girl. You love to play with cars and trucks, but I am guessing that's because those are the toys that are always around. You love your dinosaur that you can put balls in and have them come out different holes. You're really into putting things into other things and taking them out again. You still love banging on your little piano and playing with a chunky magnetic puzzle. But mostly your favorite thing is to stand at the toybox, reach in and grab toys and throw them on the floor. You would do that all day if I let you. Which I don't, because there are too many toys laying around already and I might lose my mind if all of them were on the floor at once.



But even when you do something you're not supposed to, I find it hard to get worked up about it. Compared to the stuff Jack gets in trouble for at almost 3 years old, you touching the fireplace or throwing food on the floor is nothing. In fact, I sometimes just laugh at you when you are doing something you're not supposed to do because you are so not slick about it. When you start crawling over to the fireplace, you laugh and look right at me like, "Wait, watch what I am going to do! It's going to be awesome." Usually you accept your redirection without comment, but occasionally you get worked up about it and howl with indignation. That's when I tend to laugh, because really, when you screw up your little face and yell, it's pretty funny. I know that your indignation won't always be funny, especially when you are telling me again how we are ruining your life by not letting you date when you are 12 years old, but for now, it's totally cute.

My new favorite part of the day is when I go in to get you up. You have taken to standing up in your crib and looking at the door through the bars. When I open the door you get so excited to see me that you start shaking the bars and laughing. It's so nice to be loved so much. But I assure you that my love for you is just as exciting.

Love,
Mommy

Peek-a-boo!

This weekend, we were waiting forever at the pharmacy for Emmie's presciption and she amused herself by learning to play peek-a-boo.

Why is she on medicine again, you might be asking yourself. The answer would be because she has her second double ear infection in the last three weeks. I suspected this one after the snotty nose became green-tinged, the low-grade fever stuck around and she was awake 6-7 times per night, including an hour-long screamfest at 3 a.m. on Friday night.

The doctor said if she has one more ear infection before February, we'll probably get a referral to an ENT. Of course we will, because this poor kid hasn't been through enough in the last 11 months. Of course she'll get tubes too. Par for the course around here.

Anyway, here's the sicky demonstrating her newfound skillz.

Advice needed please

A parenting dilemma: Jack started crying/screaming that he had to poop on the potty right as I was putting him to bed tonight. He was so insistent that I let him go to the bathroom.

We then sat there for over an hour while he tried, unsuccessfully, to get the job done. I feel like he was being sincere, but maybe couldn't do it for some reason. He's never pooped on the potty, despite being totally out of diapers during the day since July 4.

Josh got home at 9:15 p.m. and said he wouldn't have let it go longer than 10 minutes. I told him he could have a go at it then, if he was so smart. He gave him to the count of five, picked him up and put him to bed. Where he became lunatic-hysterical until I gave him one more chance, then put him back to bed myself. Within two minutes, he was asleep.

So, have we just set him back in the quest for full potty training? Or was it all a ploy to delay his bedtime?

Easy to please

Last night, I was super-excited because we were going to watch "Charlie Brown Christmas" when we got home from dinner.

I turned to Jack and said, "I have a surprise for you on TV when we get home!"

He got a huge smile on his face and said, "Obama?"

Seriously.

This is also the kid who when I was promising various things for going poop on the potty, asked if he could have an Obama present if he successfully performed the task.

I am really hoping for two terms from this administration. It will help the parenting process around these parts.

Ho ho ho!

Everybody loves Santa! This is great!


Emmie: Wait a minute, who the HELL is this dude and what am I doing on his lap?
Jack: Emmie, shut the hell up or he won't bring us any toys!


Emmie: Mommy! I don't want presents. I want you!
Jack: Emmie, seriously, I can't carry us both here. I want presents, knock it off.


Sorry about that dude, she's crazy. Now, about those presents...


Santa, I really don't want to pull your finger. Seriously. Just no. OK, OK, just once.


Why yes, I AM wearing a mink coat with a baby peeking out of it. It's freaking 10 degrees.

No forgiving those who trespass against me

I was all excited to post about Emmie finally sleeping through the night last night (7:15 p.m.-7:15 a.m.! Whoo!) and also finally saying "mama" this morning. Hello, two huge things within the first 10 minutes I was awake. It was almost a little too much.

But an intruder was in my house this afternoon. Yes, you read that correctly. Somone I did not know walked into my house and would have stolen something had I not been sitting in the living room WHEN IT HAPPENED.

Let me preface this by saying everyone is fine. No one was hurt. The kids were sleeping upstairs and there was a contractor here working, so I wasn't actually alone. But holy shit, it scared the hell out of me.

After the kids went down for their naps, I had an electrician here installing an outdoor outlet. He was parked in front of the house, so he had left the gate open while he was going back and forth to his truck. Because he was working from an outlet inside the house, he left the front door downstairs open.

While he was lying on the floor working on the wiring, a girl walked in the door downstairs. This means she walked down the porch steps to get there, so it was no accident she was inside the door. He told me he inquired as to what she needed and she told him she knew the people that lived in the house.

She then proceded to walk right up the stairs, which lead to the kitchen. I know she walked up the stairs because he told me she did, and I found the wet footprints that ended at the top, right where the hardwood floor begins. The tracks stopped there, which lead me to believe she got to the top, looked to see if anyone was around, saw me stuffing the envelopes for our holiday cards and hightailed it back downstairs.

Unfortunately, I did not see her. My phone rang, however, and it was the electrician calling me to come downstairs. I thought that was odd -- why didn't he just yell up to me?

When I got to the top of the stairs, I saw a woman who I do not know, standing at the bottom. As I walk down, I ask if I can help her. She says, "I see you're having some work done here. Can I do some work for you?"

WTF? Seriously? No. No, you can not do work for me. As a matter of fact, what the hell is this woman doing in my house, I ask myself. To her, I calmly say, "No. Please leave right now."

The electrician says she told him she knew me. She gets snippy and says she didn't say that, that she said she wanted to work for me. Those two are bickering while I am sizing her up and trying to figure out if her purse is big enough to hold a gun. (It was small, but could have concealed a small weapon.) I am sternly saying, "Get out. Now. Just leave. NOW."

She backtalks the electrician all the way up the stairs and walks down the street. I grab the phone and call 911 and tell them there was just a woman in my house that I did not know, with a complete discription of what she looked like and what direction she was heading. To the credit of the Chicago Police Department, they responded within five minutes. I did wonder if it would have taken that long had the woman still been in the damn house, but I digress. Five minutes is pretty good for the city.

They had a marked squad and an unmarked car looking for her, but by the time they got here, she had disappeared. The cop came in and filed a report and we traded some crime info about the haps in the neighborhood lately. I found out a condo directly across the street had their back door kicked in and their flatscreen TVs stolen last week. Awesome.

After the policeman left, I started to realize what could have been. This woman could have had a gun. She could have hurt me. She could have taken my kids. She could have hurt me and not taken the kids, but they would have been left alone for god knows how long because I couldn't help them. She could have stolen things.

In this case, our security system didn't matter. Our locks didn't matter. It was a crime of opportunity -- she was walking by, saw an open door and figured she would give it a whirl. She probably thought no one would be home and she could swipe something to make a quick buck.

The thing I keep coming back to is that she could have hurt my kids. My innocent, sleeping, beautiful children. It makes me sick to my stomach to think about it. I could care less about our stuff -- and granted, everything turned out fine and nothing bad happened -- but to think about my family being in danger pisses me off.

I guarantee you, this bitch's face is burned into my memory. If she walked by today, there's a good chance she will walk by again. Or that I could see her around the 'hood. And when I do, I am going to go all ninja on her ass and high-kick her in the gut. Then when she's gasping for breath I will sit on her and call 911.

Bail me out!

I just saw on the news that the average Detroit autoworker makes $73 an hour.

Which of course made me curious to see what the average stay-at-home-mom would make, were she to be paid. That would be $24 an hour.

Absurd.

Let's not be rash

Emmie woke up this morning looking like this.


I, thinking she was a little young for acne, reacted with restraint and calmness. I at least waited until the office opened to call the pediatrician. They told us to come on in after I told them Emmie had a rash of mysterious origin.

The poor thing was in fine spirits, laughing and playing and being her generally cordial self. She napped well and ate well, so I didn't think she was sick. But my goodness, she was looking rather like a leper. I tried to keep her in the house, lest anyone be scared off by her appearance, but we had to do the preschool pickup. I think the staff ran away when they saw her condition.

Her doctor walked in and the first thing he asked was, "What antibiotic is Emily on?" He's like magic, that one. I love him. He looked in her chart and saw it was Amoxicillin (aka The Pink Medicine) and said this was a classic penicillin allergy. Not bad enough to be life-threatening, but still an allergy. It's now been entered into her permanent record. Dun dun dunnnnnnnnn.

She had been on it for a week before the rash violently exploded on her face, legs and arms, so I was confused. Shouldn't it have happened right after she took the first dose? Not so much. Apparently it can take a few days for the histamine to kick in and then boom, symptoms.

It had started to calm down a little this evening, 24 hours since her last dose. Hopefully by Friday it will gone. Nobody wants to see pictures of a little rashy girl on Santa's lap.