Wednesday, April 29, 2009

Eight Things

Laura tagged me, and since I'm not particularly interested in doing, you know, actual work, I thought I'd give some attention to this.

8 Things I Look Forward To:

-Gracie sleeping thru the night
-Gracie waking at a normal hour
-Fixing my roots tonight after work
-Leaving work tonight
-Rae's wedding this weekend!
-Losing the last of this damn baby weight
-Going to Saugatuck this summer
-Stephen getting off midnights

8 Things I Did Yesterday:

-went shopping
-got a haircut
-had lunch with my mom
-watched the cement guys pour the new sidewalk and patio
-ummm...drove past the old condo on my way home from the haircut
-made dinner
-had a really great run
-went to bed early

8 Things I Wish I Could Do:

-sleep thru the night
-sleep late (and by late, I mean 7:30 or 8 am)
-stop dying my hair
-run five days a week
-get my pre-baby arms and abs back
-stay home with G and my future babies
-either buy a different house OR be DONE with all the work our house needs

8 Shows I Watch:

-The Office
-30 Rock
-My Name is Earl
-Reno 911
-The Simpsons
-Family Guy
-American Justice

I tag Donna and Rachel. All my fellow mommas got tagged by Laura:)

Tuesday, April 28, 2009

The Young and Healthy

People don't always understand details. Or subtleties. Or something.

Today I was at the produce market with G-Funk and the woman in the next check out line was loudly railing against the "panic" surrounding swine flu. Thinking she was extremely smart, she started quoting statistics about how many people die each year from the flu.

Look. I'm not telling anyone to panic about swine flu. It has me...nervous. But panicking? Decidedly not. However. The Knowitall in me (IN me? isn't that all of me?!) had a VERY hard time restraining myself. The woman didn't want my opinion. But for GODS' SAKE, if you're gonna go off, know what you're talking about.

Very young, very old, and medically frail people die of the flu every year, with some random freaky deaths. Healthy young adults do NOT die in large numbers. It is most definitely cause for concern.

(since I didn't tell HER that, I had to come here and tell all of you. This makes two stupid blog posts in a row. sigh.)

(for those keeping score at home, my little KGB agent woke at 4:50, stayed awake two hours, and took a 45 minute nap. She was then awake for FOUR hours, but is in the midst of a beautiful nap. if only I could make her morning nap this long. Or, you know, add it to her NIGHTTIME SLEEP!!!)

Monday, April 27, 2009

Nope, still hasn't happened

I thought for sure I would look back fondly on Gracie's newborn days. I was so positive I would remember it all wrong, and be so sad that she's such a big girl now.

oh, HELLS NO!!!!!

Turns out I remember exactly how hideously terrible it was. Maybe because I'm still so tired? I don't know. I mean, she's FUN now. She has a wicked temper, and she knows exactly what she wants and god help you if you stand in her way (or if she changes her mind before she gets it, which happens QUITE frequently!), she needs basically no sleep at all (really. it's not normal.), but she smiles and giggles and gets the most devious glimmer in her eyes, and she is so, so, so cool. Why on EARTH would I wish for her to be a floppy, screaming, impossible-to-please little bundle of raw nerves and unhappiness?

Even *I* remember some things.

(this post is pointless. I'm just too tired to get up and go to bed so I had to fill the time somehow.)

Friday, April 24, 2009

Dear Celebrities,


The next time your publicist tells everyone you've been hospitalized for exhaustion? I'm telling everyone the real truth, that you have cocaine poisoning or raging syphilis requiring IV antibiotics, because it turns out NOBODY needs to be hospitalized for exhaustion. (unles you're coming off a coke bender, I guess?) Because if that ever WERE a cause for hospitalization, I would've maxed out my insurance months ago.

Also, sidenote to a certain pediatrician who authored a sleep book that I previously swore by: take your book and shove it. you're a lying liar. I hate you. Your methods suck and they don't work. Or perhaps reading it while I was pregnant was the mistake, as the knowledge crossed the placenta and taught G how to resist all your methods? Perhaps that is the problem.

Sidenote to God: I really, really, REALLY don't know what made you think I could handle a child who never ever ever EVER slept, but let me clear up this misunderstanding: I cannot. I. can. not. I am so fracking tired I am going to start hallucinating. Please. Seriously. Can I get a 6am? Is THAT too much to ask?

Sidenote to ANYONE who is considering offering me advice on this topic: Don't. Really, just...don't. You mean well, but you're not going to help, and in my current state of mind, it will just piss me off. That is immature and unfair, but let's see how rational you are after four and a half months of no sleep. Really, seriously, honestly, whatever you're thinking, we've tried. The child just won't sleep.

Unless you know of a pediatrician who's willing to prescribe pediatric Amb!en. In which case, hit up my comments, yo.

Tuesday, April 21, 2009


Last night, Gracie did not eat well before she went to sleep. Sometimes she does that, she just gets so tired, I can't get her to eat well before bed and I know she'll wake up shortly after she falls asleep. Sure enough, she woke up ravenous at 9:30. She ate well and went back to sleep.

Then? She slept thru the night. Really!

Then? She woke up at 5:15. For the day.

I was in total denial. First, I stayed in bed, listening to her whine. Then I got up to feed her. When she kept popping off and cooing and smiling at me, I knew I was hosed. I tried putting her back down, which did not work (I mean, really, I don't know why I tried!). I put her crib aquarium on to buy myself ten minutes. That worked, but that was ten minutes. I finally gave in and started my day.

I'll have my revenge, though. She appears to have inherited my hair, and THAT is a gift that keeps on giving.

Sunday, April 19, 2009


My birthday is December 11th, a fact which many people reading this know, does not make me happy. December birthdays suck. When I realized Gracie was going to have a December birthday, I felt terrible. Half of my obsession with getting her OUT OF MY BODY had to do with keeping her birthday as far away from Christmas as possible (the other half had to do with the fact that I was carrying an 8 lb baby that, from the outside, looked like a 5 lb baby, and all that baby had to go somewhere, and that somewhere was my lungs and my sciatic nerve. Run-on sentence, table for one?).

The upshot of this is being a Sagittarius. Admit it. It is the coolest sign of the zodiac. The free-spirited adventurer. It's like the wacky friend that convinces us to go to London on a week's notice without anyplace to stay or any plans, and go skydiving while we're there.

I'm kind of a Sagittarius, but mostly not. I love to travel, I get bored and restless easily, and I love adventures. It's just my idea of adventure that's not quite so Sagittarian. That is because I'm a big fat scaredy-cat.

Gracie, though, oh my LORD is this child a Sagittarius. I can tell already. All the things that make her a bit of a pill right now are the things that will make her the wild, kickass friend everyone wants to be around. She wants constant entertainment. The more we're doing, the better, and the more time we spend out of the house, the better- for SURE. She gets bored within seconds. Sleep is boring. There are no adventures in sleep, so why should she waste ANY time on that?

It's kinda cool. I really hope she's brave and adventurous and pursues all the crazy dreams she has, and that I'm strong enough to support her and not try to stop her. I hope I'm brave enough to tell her the Peace Corps is a great idea, that she SHOULD take a year off before she goes to college to volunteer in Central America or work on a farm in Ireland. I know that'll be the hardest part, being able to take a deep breath and tell her to go, and be the person she's supposed to be.

Of course, knowing this kid, she'll turn five and decide she never wants to leave the house again. Can't have me thinking I know anything about her.

Friday, April 10, 2009

True Story

One of my most memorable patients was 8 or 9 when she was diagnosed with glioblastoma multiforme. For those of you who don't watch ER, it's a horribly aggressive, horribly fatal brain tumor. She went thru chemo, radiation, and surgery, and did so well, when she said hello to me in the basement of the hospital one day, I didn't even recognize her. It was a miracle.

A few weeks after I was shocked to see how well she was doing, I woke up in the morning, laughing about that incident, and thinking, well, I guess I won't be seeing her anymore.

I got to work that day and she had been admitted to our unit the night before. Later that day, we found out the tumor was back. I have no idea why she popped into my head that morning, she just...did. She started chemo again, but when I saw her just a few months later, she was so ravaged by the tumor, she didn't even realize I was standing there talking to her parents. When she finally noticed someone was talking to her parents, she didn't recognize me at all.

A few weeks after that, I woke up one morning because someone called my name. I lived alone at the time. It wasn't the same as someone talking to you in a dream, it sounded just like someone calling my name. I looked at the clock and it was 6:30. I was supposed to be at work at 7am that day. I had forgotten to set the alarm, and I never would've woken up if I hadn't heard that voice calling my name. I found out a few days later that my patient had died several weeks earlier. I always told myself that she woke me up that morning so I wouldn't be late for work.

I don't blog about work. I don't wanna get Dooce'd, and besides that, it's really hard to talk about work without being melodramatic, which is annoying and turns people off, I know. So, mostly, I complain about the stuff that annoys me to my friends and I keep it off the blog.

Today, though, I'm talking about work because after I signed up to run the Chicago marathon (...apparently I've been smoking crack? I don't remember picking up that habit, but it's the only reasonable explanation for such a decision), I decided to join the Children's Memorial marathon team. The economy sucks balls, and most of the people who read this blog have new babies and have no money to spare. I hate to even mention it. The thing is, it DOES make a difference. Tumors like medulloblastoma used to be almost universally fatal, but thanks to research, some subtypes of this tumor carry an excellent prognosis for long-term survival. Kids with spina bifida were only selectively treated as recently as twenty or thirty years ago, until this guy said, "Um, actually, I think these babies can grow up to be happy, healthy, and productive adults." And he kicked spina bifida square in the 'nads.

If you can spare it, think about .pledging me.

I promise, this is the last shill you'll ever see here. Tomorrow I'll be back to talking about my little squirt ad infinitum and occasionally talking about training for a marathon with a newborn who hates to sleep. Promise

Thursday, April 9, 2009


Four is my lucky number. I remember when I was doing general pediatric clinicals, I always liked four month old babies the most, they were so adorable and interactive, but not so busy that you feel like you need a nap after you see them.

Maybe those two things combined mean Gracie will start sleeping through the night this month.



Well, that was funny.

We are having lots of fun, at least. She's so smiley and chatty. She's still pretty darn high maintenance, she just likes your undivided attention most of the time, and her sleep is still complete crap. We're working on it, but I'm coming to realize that all the sleep training methods don't train babies, they train parents, at least, at this age. I just think they give you options for coping with your baby's sleep, because no matter how hard we try, we really don't have much of an impact on G's sleep. She just does what she's going to do.

At least she's cute.