Saturday, May 30, 2009

Cops and Nurses

The cop-nurse pairing is a big cliche.

There's a good reason for it: we both have jobs that work crappy hours, make crappy money, and deal with crap that most people don't even want to think about. However, in spite of this last fact, most people ALSO believe, really and truly believe, they can do our jobs as well as we do.

I'm not really happy about being held prisoner in my house all day today. It was a gorgeous saturday, one that Gracie and I could have spent running, playing in the yard, getting shopping done, and enjoying the fresh air. Instead, we were holed up inside, waiting for resolution that never came (and still hasnt' come, thirteen hours after it started).

I'm also sad for this man, even though I only met him once, back before Gracie was even born. And more importantly, even though it's frustrating that it's taking so long, I also know I'm not trained in hostage negotiation. I don't know how to talk someone off a figurative ledge. I don't know how to keep the rest of the neighborhood safe when an unstable man with a gun is holed up in his house.

So while I have wicked cabin fever and a SERIOUS need for a diet Dr. Pepper, I'm just going to be grateful that we're all okay, pray that our neighbor will be okay too, and let the experts do their job.

Tuesday, May 26, 2009


G has clearly elected 6pm as her new bedtime. This has been in the works, but was firmly established this weekend.

On the one hand, yippee. She FINALLY has a bedtime. It's early enough that when Stephen and I both have the day (night) off, we can put her to bed and THEN go out, which will be nice.

On the other hand: pardon my french, but fuck. I work until 7pm, get home around 7:30. Three nights a week, I won't be putting her to bed.

I really, really, really hate that.

Mind you, she kept herself up late on sunday when we were out to dinner, and it's *possible* she'll try to keep herself up on nights when I work, and go straight to bed when I get home, but that's not the best thing for her, either. See, this is just one more reason why she should sleep until 8am. that way, she'd be just fine staying awake until 8pm, and I could put her to bed every night, without any stress.

blaaaah. I have only missed putting her to bed once since was born, the night of Rachel's wedding, and she courteously woke up shortly after we got home.

I need to start buying lottery tickets. This working stuff is for the birds.

Monday, May 25, 2009

double-yoo tee eff???

Friday night: G woke up once, then started the day at 5:15.

Saturday night: G woke up once, started the day at 5:30ish.

Sunday night: G woke up twice, but once was at 4:10 and in her defense, she thought it was morning. Also in her defense, she accepted correction. AND?! She took a two-hour nap this morning!

my GOD. I haven't had this much sleep since I was four months pregnant. I feel like I should paint the living room or something.

Friday, May 22, 2009


My friend Katie's mom, who has five grown kids, believes that all fussy babies grow up to be really smart, and they're fussy because they're bored.

Gracie definitely fusses when she's bored. Also, although there was never a switch-flipping moment, like people talk about with classic colic, it was right around the four month mark, when she could actually play, that Gracie got a lot less fussy. The world just didn't seem to frustrate her as much when she could grab her doll, shake her rattle, bring things to her mouth, etc. Even before I heard Katie's mom's theory, I would joke that Gracie was fussy because she's brilliant and tortured by her thoughts.

Tonight, as I was rocking her and trying (unsuccessfully, natch) to get her drowsy enough for bed, I watched her playing with a burpie. She shook it around, held it up, chewed on it, shook it again. I thought, is that it for you? Are you just too smart for your own good?

Right as I thought that, she stuffed the burpie into her mouth, bit down, and proceeded to get supremely pissed off when she couldn't get it back out of her mouth.

...well. At least she's cute.

Thursday, May 21, 2009


So, I had a whole stupid post in my head about how G acted like she was going to sleep in this morning and then she didn't so I used the crib aquarium and it was just like a snooze button ha ha ha ha.


Then we had a near-death experience and I no longer gave a flying crap about the stupid story I had to tell.

We went to the mall in an attempt to buy a present from a story that no longer exists. Annoyed, I packed her back in the car and headed to the produce market.

Sitting at a light just a few blocks away, I heard the weirdest noise, like construction. I didn't even look in the rearview mirror until something caught my eye- just two or three cars behind us, a pickup truck flipping over, followed by the driver being ejected from the side window. There were no horns honking, no screeching brakes. I guess neither driver saw it coming. I grabbed my phone to call 911, and motioned to the woman ahead of me that I was calling. I couldn't get thru, so I opened the door and asked her to try. I mentioned I had my 5mo in the backseat, and she said she had her 1yo in her car. I saw someone run up and flip the driver over- Jesus Christ, you dipshit, cervical spine alignment, now he's a *&$@ quad, oh no, I need to go help. I can't go help, I have G. Do I ask a stranger to watch G? No, I can't do that. OK, there's a person in scrubs, it's under control. (I couldn't see what was behind the truck, nor did it occur to me to try).

I finally got through to 911 and was informed they already knew about the accident. At that moment, I heard sirens approaching, so I thought, well, I guess I'll get going. I looked around for the first time and realized that traffic in the opposite direction was completely stopped. The woman ahead of me and the woman ahead of her were just sitting there, staring. What is WRONG with people???? SERIOUSLY. Not only are you IN THE WAY, keeping EMS from getting to the accident, you're a horrible person for sitting and drinking in the worst moment of another person's life (and quite possibly the end of that person's life.)

As I was driving away, I finally had the actual, clear thought- they weren't doing CPR on the driver. They were huddled around him, but not doing CPR. He was probably perfectly alive. I would've survived that accident. But you know who would most certainly not have survived that and I can't even bring myself to say it.

That is when I got hysterical and almost puked all over the car. I made it to the produce market, smothered G with kisses, bought maybe two of the nine billion things we needed, and went home.

So thank you to my guardian angels, and even though it goes without saying, drive safely.

Tuesday, May 19, 2009


We have a newborn with spina bifida on our service right now. She is her mom's first baby. Yesterday, she FINALLY got to breastfeed the baby. When we told her, she was excited, but said she had absolutely no idea what she was doing. "I'll help you!!!" I said. I was so excited to help her! The problem? It was 6:30. I leave at seven. And therein lies the catch-22:

1- Before Gracie was born, I would've happily stayed late to help her, however, I wouldn't have had the first clue what to tell her.
2- Now that G is here, I know exactly what to tell her, but I have zero interest in staying late at work, especially when I'm rushing home to be the one to put her to bed.

I managed to give her some pointers on positioning and I think they were going to be fine, but unfortunately, the baby had eaten an hour earlier and was not remotely interested in eating, so we dind't get any good latching action while I was there. Then I was off today. And I have a meeting tomorrow. I might ditch it, I really want this to go well for them. Looking back at how I felt when G was a week old, well, I can't imagine what I would've been like if she'd had surgery and was still in the hospital with another possible surgery on the horizon, plus all the bajillion other things that crop up in newborns with spina bifida. Yiiiikes. that's all I have to say about that.


So, it's been well-established that Gracie doesn't like to sleep. She also meets her gross-motor milestones at her own, lesiurely pace, and she doesn't vocalize as much as I'd like.


We hit the jackpot on eating. This child will eat anything I put in her mouth. Sweet potatoes, carrots, avocados, peas, and of course oatmeal, it's all gone as soon as it's pulled out of the fridge. She's a CHAMP with the spoon, hardly any tongue-thrusting at all, and if she's really liking what she's eating (avocados, kid has good taste), there's barely any even on her bib.

We got us an eater. Between that and her fine-motor control (which is pretty darn good, too, she's impressively all about her thumbs), maybe she'll be a famous restaurant blogger one day.

Friday, May 15, 2009

The day I have been dreading

I knew this day would come. I knew it was inevitable. Still, I hoped maybe it wouldn't happen. Or that it would happen sooner, rather than later.

But no. The day is here.

Guess who else is sick?

(and can someone PLEASE explain to me why this happened on the SAME &^#@ day she became proficient at flipping back to stomach, while still less-than-proficient at going back to her back, thusly ensuring she would wake EVERY FORTY FIVE MINUTES last night, and was wide-awake from 2 until 3? let's not even get started on how she tried to go on strike again, because I informed her she hasn't been paying her union dues, so she can go on strike if she likes but then she will be FIRED.)


Wednesday, May 13, 2009

I am, in fact, sick.

Denial does not seem to be working. I am stuffy and achey and feel like hot butt.

I am definitely sick.

This is bullshit.

Tuesday, May 12, 2009

I am not sick.

My throat hurts from too much singing. Not because I'm sick. Because I'm NOT sick. I'm not going to spend the next ten days snorting nasal saline, gingerly swallowing, and sucking cold-eeze (which, for the curious, is A-OK for the nursing mother, according to

and let's not even get started on who else in this house is NOT getting sick, because OH MY GOD I WILL JUST DIE.

Similarly, that same person is not screaming her fool head off in protest of a real nap in her crib and waking up her poor father who is trying to sleep before he goes back to work.

Denial: The Other White Meat

Friday, May 8, 2009

Cinco de Gracie

Someone is five months old today! I can't believe it.

Even though I really thought I'd wait until six months to start solids, we started right at 4.5 months. I had two reasons for this- I really thought she was ready, for a variety of reasons, and I was impatient. What? Some reasons are better than others. Anyway, she LOVES her oats and is learning to love sweet potatoes. Actually, she really already loves them, she just still gets weirded out wehn she first tastes them and has to remember she likes them. We're also starting to introduce a cup, which she loves, but spends lots of time dumping in her lap.

Sleep...yeah. She still never, ever sleeps. Ever. Ok, SOMETIMES she sleeps. Just not, you know, through the night, and not at all after, say 5am. Now that she's figured out this trick, she's either going to never sleep again, or I just hit the jackpot with self-soothing. I'm just choosing to believe option B, even though we have yet to hit option B in the last five months...I'm trying to be an optimist.

Sunday, May 3, 2009

In Which I Am Original

So. Susan Boyle. Yeah, sorry. I know I'm like the nine billionth person in the world to have something to say about her, but here's the thing.

People talk about how it shouldn't be shocking that she's talented, and that we shouldn't judge a book by its cover, and why it's wrong to do that, and that's all true.

My thing is, I love her because she's an underdog. That's oversimplifying it. It's like...revenge? Or something. Because, yeah, it sucks to judge people based on their appearance, but in addition to all of us having done it at some point in our lives, we've all felt like it's happened to us, too. Right? I mean, how shitty does that feel? When she says she wants to be a singer, and they cut to the nasty girl rolling her eyes, we've ALL been sitting across from that nasty girl at some point. Well, except people who live on desert islands and manage to avoid going through junior high. The rest of us, though, have so been there, and we KNOW how much that hurts, and haven't we all wished we could show those nasty girls, once and for all? Susan Boyle is totally showing those nasty girls. They may be cuter, they may have more friends, but none of them can even dream of being as talented as her.

Or maybe it's just me and I'm hopelessly immature and grudge-holding. All I know is that the former drama freak in me can't watch that stupid video without getting all teary about it.

If I were a writer instead of a nurse, I would make a really awesome segue into a story about Bea Arthur, and how she was another woman who was not pretty, and was, in fact, awkward as hell, with her deep voice and enormous stature, but how she was also incredibly talented and made us all laugh. Unfortunately, I am a nurse, and so I can't think of a smooth way to get there. Isn't that a shame? That would've been awesome. This is why I'll always be a nurse and I'll never get to be a SAHM-blogger. Damn. Too bad I can't blame it on looking awkward so people will root for me to win America's Next Stay At Home Blogger...EDITED: um, for clarity: I can't blame it on looking awkward because you don't see bloggers. not because I think I'm all perfect-looking. au contraire. just had to, you know, clarify...

Banging on the Drum Optional

I don't wanna go to work tomorrow.

It's supposed to be another gorgeous day, plus Gracie was a horrible beast today (think Gracie v1.0, and don't forget to run away screaming and begging for mercy while you do that), and I think we should get a do-over of this gorgeous day.

No? Damn.

I think G is mad because she didnt' get to go to Rachel's gorgeous wedding. Who can blame her?