The odd thing about not . . . → Read More: My sisters say I don’t blog enough]]> And they’re totally right.  I told them to come clean my house so I would have time to actually do something else outside of work, but all I got were wrinkled noses and shaking heads on that one.  But, I’m trying to write a blog anyway.  YOU’RE WELCOME, SISTERS.

The odd thing about not writing much is that I don’t know where to pick up.  Do I go through and recap everything, like how cute Claire looked as a little witch on Halloween and how much she is loving preschool and regale you with tales of my quirky coworkers?  Or do I just pretend that I’ve been narrating all along and act like this bloggy and I are old friends?

I was reflecting today on what a rollercoaster ride this parenting thing is (SHOCKER, I know) and all the highs and lows we’ve been through recently with our offspring.  A few weeks ago she went on an all out poop strike, even going so far as to make itty-bitty signs and to form a picket line outside the bathroom.  (Ok, not really.  Instead there was lots of screaming and squirming.)  I was certain that we’d screwed her up and made her afraid somehow.  But after much trial and error and patience and Googling and hand-wringing and eventually a call to the pediatrician we have it mostly figured out.  Had I known ten years ago that someday my entire day’s happiness would be based on a little person pooping I would’ve been mighty depressed indeed.

So then after the high of thinking “hooray, we fixed our kid!” I was listening to her play today and realized that most of what she was saying revolved around her putting her toys in time-out and expressing her extreme displeasure with how naughty they were being.  And then whoosh, down the hill I went again on that roller-coaster realizing that THIS is what she’s picked up from us as parents?  Well, isn’t that lovely!  But then I thought about it some more and realized that this is probably normal, I think I remember doing the same thing as a kid.  And then the more I thought about it I realized, HEY, we aren’t such bad parents after all!  Because as she put her toys in time-out instead of saying awful things and calling her toys names and stuff, she was saying things like “I am not happy about this” in her most stern manner.  And that’s awesome!  Because that means we are doing something right by not using abusive language!  She learned that nice language from us!  I’ll have to remember to high-five my husband over that one before bed tonight.  It’s the little victories, people.

Anyway, life is good lately.  Busy and hectic and getting more busy and hectic it seems, but I’ve realized lately how very fortunate we are to be surrounded by truly wonderful people.  We have the most amazing family, friends, and neighbors, that I really can’t complain about anything.  And I’m not just saying that because I know my sisters are reading this.

By the way sisters, the offer for you to clean my house in exchange for blog posts is still on the table.  Babysitting is also accepted payment for blogging.  I’m pretty sure we can come to an agreement here.

Good news first:  the husband graduated college successfully and got himself a grown-up job with a good company in the industry he wants to be in!  Hooray!

The bad news: because he is a new graduate the pay is lousy and I can’t quit my job.  Boo.  BUT, . . . → Read More: Where is Mary Poppins when you need her?]]> So! Good news and bad news!

Good news first:  the husband graduated college successfully and got himself a grown-up job with a good company in the industry he wants to be in!  Hooray!

The bad news: because he is a new graduate the pay is lousy and I can’t quit my job.  Boo.  BUT, it’s a start and what I think will be a great stepping stone for him in the business, so it isn’t all bad.

As a result, for the time-being we need full-time child care.  Coincidentally, the very same week my man starts his job our little gal starts preschool (PRESCHOOL!  GAH!), and we already have her signed up and ready to go at a great preschool, so daycare is out of the question.  The best solution at the moment seems to be to hire a nanny.  Holy overwhelming process, Batman!  How in the heck do you figure out who is suitable to hang out in your home and watch your most precious little child?

It’d be so much easier if someone would just float on over to our front porch like this:

Sadly, I don’t think it is going to happen.

I’ve been doing some interviews with some nice girls and think I’ve found the right person.  It’s been tough, but I feel like we’re doing the right thing for this time in our lives.  We’re hoping it is just short term, so we’ll play it by ear for the next well.

Even though I feel like we’re doing the right thing, I’m still riddled with guilt.  Hiring someone to watch my child makes me feel like a horrible mother, even though we’re working hard right now to make a better future for our family.  And to make matters worse, sometimes I can hear the masked judgement in other’s voices when I tell them what our plan is.  I can just imagine what is going through their mind.  A nanny?  I could never leave my child with a nanny! How awful to have someone else raise your child! Yes, yes, I agree!  But you know, sometimes we all just have to do the best we can and it isn’t always perfect.

So, for now, we’re crossing our fingers that we get the perfect nanny for our little one, and that someday soon we can have the “normal” family life we’ve always wanted.

Claire:  “I want a hamburger!”

Me:  “Sorry sweetie, we are going to eat at home instead because you didn’t obey me at Grandma’s house and pick up your toys when I asked.”

Claire:  “I want a hamburgerrrr!!!”

Me:  “I know, but I told . . . → Read More: Wherein I am put in my place by a toddler]]> The conversation in the car today with the 3 year old:

Claire:  “I want a hamburger!”

Me:  “Sorry sweetie, we are going to eat at home instead because you didn’t obey me at Grandma’s house and pick up your toys when I asked.”

Claire:  “I want a hamburgerrrr!!!”

Me:  “I know, but I told you we could get one if you were obedient and picked up your toys, but you didn’t listen to me and had to go to time out instead.”

Claire:  “But I don’t want to eat at home!  I want a hamburger!”

Me:  “Sorry honey, we’ll get one another time.  I still love you though.”

*silence*

Claire:  “I love Daddy.”

*Tap tap*

I believe this is what is called a weblog, yes?  You…type?  And it goes out to the…Internets?  It’s been so long I’m a bit rusty on how all this works.

Dear bloggy friends, I have not forgotten you.  I’ve just been blasted busy.  Yes, really.  Busy and exhausted.  I . . . → Read More: Ahem…]]> Uh…this thing on?

*Tap tap*

I believe this is what is called a weblog, yes?  You…type?  And it goes out to the…Internets?  It’s been so long I’m a bit rusty on how all this works.

Dear bloggy friends, I have not forgotten you.  I’ve just been blasted busy.  Yes, really.  Busy and exhausted.  I switched jobs again at the end of June, which has been a wonderful and glorious thing.  This new job has like, people!  Who talk to me!  And a break room with cookies and popcorn!  And a giant panda pinata that sits at our receptionist desk and is rigged up to talk!  I’m not even kidding about that last one.  It has been a good, nay, a wonderful change.

BUT, here is the question I am left pondering this summer:

How does one…

Work 40 hours a week

Do laundry, and fold all that darned laundry

Scrub the bathroom on a somewhat regular basis

Play at the park with the daughter

Hold Family Home Evening

Plan and execute a birthday party

Prepare healthy lunches in advance to take to work

Organize the closets so they don’t one day bury you alive

Keep your car inspected, registered, clean, full of gas, and with air actually in the tires to boot

Pull weeds

Practice THE ORGAN for church during the week (and recover from the ensuing stroke every other Sunday)

Exercise regularly and count calories

Constantly work to arrange babysitters for this, that, and the other without making all your family and neighbors hate you

Go on dates with the husband now and then to make him feel special, and sometimes even put on lipstick or do your hair to look pretty

Enjoy quality time in the mountains

Scrub stains out of your carpet (a hopeless task…)

Keep fresh batteries in the smoke detectors so they don’t chirp at you at 4:00 AM

Hang out with extended family and be a decent daughter, sister, aunt, daughter-in-law, etc.

Commute an hour each day

Research and clip grocery coupons in desperate effort to not go broke

Help husband with homework

Scrapbook the precious moments of your child’s life

Catch up with girlfriends as to preserve valuable friendships

Take meals to neighbors in need

Field a million questions about your reproductive goals

Read books to the little one

Recycle

Think of ways to be creative and valuable at work

Keep a blog or two updated

Etc., etc., etc.

So, Internet.  HOW????  How does a single person do this and more?  Is this what is called “being an adult?”  I’m… pooped.

So blog buddies, can we be friends again?  I’m sorry for being neglectful.  I’ve just felt a little busy, is all.  Love you!

While I realize I’ve been light in the posting department lately, I wanted to give a little shout out to dads.

Dads are awesome aren’t they?

I mean, don’t get me wrong, moms are awesome too.  But I’m a firm believer that having . . . → Read More: Fathers]]> A happy Father’s Day to all the dads out there yesterday!

While I realize I’ve been light in the posting department lately, I wanted to give a little shout out to dads.

Dads are awesome aren’t they?

I mean, don’t get me wrong, moms are awesome too.  But I’m a firm believer that having a mom AND a dad is just good as gravy.  The yin and the yang, you know?

Without a dad, who would fix your bike or teach you how to swing a baseball bat?  Who would take you on daddy-daughter dates to the mountains or to get hamburgers? Who would help you pick out your first car and stay up late to help you with your algebra?  Who would still come over after you’ve moved out to build shelves, assemble tables, lay sod, and make sure your carbon monoxide detector was plugged in?  Who would teach you that quality is often better than quantity or that an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure? Who would tell you all the time how beautiful you were, or teach you that you can do ANYTHING you want in life?

My dad did all those things, and continues to.  Seriously, I was blessed with the best parents.

And you know how when you were a little girl you used to imagine your husband and you’d hope that he would be a kick-A dad?

Turns out, my baby-daddy is better than I could’ve even imagined.

Claire ADORES him, and deservedly so.  She thinks I’m ok most the time, but daddy?  Daddy is the coolest person walking planet earth.

I’m so glad my little girl has a dad who plays with her, cuddles her, sings to her, listens to her, cooks for her, works for her, and loves her endlessly.

He’s pretty cute too.  I’m glad we get to keep him.

On Thursday the husband left for a 4 day backpacking trip through the Southern Utah wilderness.  As he has been finishing . . . → Read More: All by my lonesome]]> This week, everyone up and left me.  Just like that!  Can you believe it?  Total lame-sauce.  I suppose they didn’t leave me behind on purpose, it’s just how it turned out.  But still…

On Thursday the husband left for a 4 day backpacking trip through the Southern Utah wilderness.  As he has been finishing up his final credits for his degree this summer, he took a backpacking class to fulfill some goofy elective requirement.  The “final” was a backpacking trip.  From what I hear, he is in the middle of NOWHERE with no cell service, so I’m crossing my fingers that all is well and that he makes it home safely tomorrow.

So if it wasn’t enough to have my other half wandering through some desolate canyon four hours away, the rest of my family jetted off to Europe on Friday!  And I wasn’t with them!  Ahh!!  Instead, I’m the designated cat-sitter for them.  Which is almost as glamorous?  Let’s face it, this weekend I’ve been the lonely, crazy cat-lady.

Fortunately, I’ve had my sweet little girl to keep me company.  As it turns out, when not wetting their pants 2-year olds can really make for some great company.  When did my baby turn into a little person?  You know, with opinions and stories to tell and questions to ask?  I’ve realized over the last couple of days that we now can carry on actual two-way conversations (more or less), and it is delightful!  For me, anyway.  I don’t know about her.  I’m guessing it is any day now before she slaps her forehead in embarrassment over something odd I’ve said.

Speaking of odd conversations!  After putting her to bed tonight she started hollering for me from her room.  “Mom!  I need something!  Hey, mom!”  After going to the door and asking what she needed, she replied in the most certain tone, “I need a ball of yarn.”  A wha???  Pretty sure she’s never seen an actual ball of yarn in her life.  Still scratching my head over that one.

While the occasional evening of “me” time can be nice, I sure miss my husband.  There’s really nothing better than being married to your best friend, you know?  Looking forward to tomorrow… In the meantime, who wants to save me from being the crazy cat-lady?

*crickets*

Ok, well, even if you’re not, here you go:

My kid is potty-trained!  Yay!!!!!

We haven’t changed a diaper in almost a month.  . . . → Read More: The good news]]> In my last post I alluded to some good news and then disappeared for a week.  I know you’ve all been on edge and just dying to know, haven’t you?

*crickets*

Ok, well, even if you’re not, here you go:

My kid is potty-trained!  Yay!!!!!

We haven’t changed a diaper in almost a month.  It’s practically like getting a raise, not having to buy diapers anymore.

This might seem odd, but ever since she was an infant I stressed about potty-training.  I mean, how in the world do you train a completely irrational and easily distractable little person to do their business in a wee potty?  No one trained me on how to train someone to do this, and I certainly don’t remember my own training!  The whole set-up seems rather preposterous.

There were a few basic tidbits offered by our pediatrician and the interwebs:

-  Let her observe us using the bathroom.  I realize that sounds disgusting and strange, but her doctor said at her 1 year appointment that this would lay the building blocks for potty training.

-  Make it sunshine and rainbows and one big party all the time!  Negativity is a big, fat no-no.

-  Bribes are awesome

-  It only works if the kid is ready

Over the last several months we’ve toyed around with potty training a bit, thinking she was ready, but then quickly realized she was NOT ready so we backed off.  This time around though, I knew she was ready and declared that it was time and come hell or high water, we were jumping in and not looking back.  We hid the leftover diapers (because if she knew we still owned any she would simply insist she wear the diapers instead) and stocked up on tiny underpants and carpet cleaner.

It was a Tuesday.  The diapers had been stashed away, the M&M’s had been purchased, the towels were draping the couch, and our schedule had been cleared for the next several days.  That morning, after a few brief tears of not wanting to grow up quite yet (I may or may not have shed some myself), the little potty was put to use and everyone rejoiced!  But then, that very same day, The Great Hand Catastrophe occurred and I thought for sure the whole thing would go right out the window.  But wouldn’t you know it, my little champ of a child persevered and through all the tears and trauma she stuck with it.  I couldn’t have been more proud.

So here we are, four weeks later, and I haven’t changed (or purchased!) a diaper in ages.  Overall, things have been going well.  At first I thought she had it down within just a few days, but then she kind of regressed a little bit?  Now we seem to be dealing with little accidents here and there, so instead of being all MY KID IS POTTY TRAINED, EXCLAMATION POINT!  I’m kind of like, MY KID IS POTTY TRAINED, QUESTION MARK?  I’m kind of at a loss of how to get her 100% there.  Suggestions?  Is this something she just has to do on her own time?  Seriously, I have no idea what I’m doing here, people.  Teach me.

Either way, the whole thing is pretty fantastic, if you ask me.

P.S.  In other good news, her hand is healing up very nicely, finally!  Just one little band-aid left on the most mangled finger, but she is using her hand like normal now and all is well.  HALLELUJAH!

So, do you want the good news or the bad news first? Bad news?  Ok then, glad we agree.

Two weeks ago the husband was running on the treadmill in the basement while our daughter played and watched cartoons in the same room.  We’ve had . . . → Read More: I think I’ve found a good excuse to never run on the treadmill again]]>

My cute girl with two functioning, non-mangled hands

So, do you want the good news or the bad news first? Bad news?  Ok then, glad we agree.

Two weeks ago the husband was running on the treadmill in the basement while our daughter played and watched cartoons in the same room.  We’ve had this set-up for a while, we’ve had conversations about never ever ever touching the treadmill while it is on, and all has gone smoothly.  You can see where this is going.  For some inexplicable reason my little girl decided to wander on over and stick her sweet, soft, innocent little hand under the moving treadmill belt and IT GOT STUCK.

My husband called me at work, in a panic because Claire was completely freaking out and would not stop screaming, even to the point of throwing up.  I was trapped, having joined a carpool (which is a post in itself) the week before.  From what I could gather there was very little blood, but a lot of skin had been taken off and my poor girl was miserable. There wasn’t anything that looked like it needed to be stitched up, even though her hand was quite mangled, so we didn’t go to the ER.  It looked like what it needed was some good old fashioned antibacterial ointment, some time to heal, and some major TLC.  That day (and the next few as well) that girl got whatever she wanted in our desperate attempt to bring her any sort of comfort and happiness.  Watch movies all day?  Sure!  You want popsicles for dinner?  You got it!  Here, have some chocolate too!!

The following days were downright heartbreaking and completely stressful for all of us.  Her hand had to be bandaged and protected.  The first night I loosely taped some gauze to her hand, slathering it all with antibacterial ointment.  The next morning, to my horror, the gauze had dried to her oozing, open wounds.  We had to try to force her hand underwater per her doctor’s suggestion (which is painful on such sensitive wounds) and then yank the gauze off.   Just typing that sentence makes me ill all over again.  I’m sure I don’t even need to describe the howling on my daughter’s part.   I raced to the nearest pharmacy in a frenzy, sweeping into my basket non-stick gauze and antibacterial sprays and band-aids with cartoon characters on them and anything else that looked remotely helpful.

In an effort to protect her damaged hand, my girl would keep it in a fist and wouldn’t let anyone or anything near it.  While I praised her basic survival instincts and tenacity at keeping us from touching it, that hand absolutely had to be tended to in order to prevent infection and ensure proper healing.  Even in her sleep, if I would try to touch her hand to adjust the bandages she would quickly jerk it away. Changing the bandages became a 3-man job that I would dread for over an hour before the appointed time to make it happen with the assistance of one of her grandmothers.  Grandma would hold her tightly in her lap, while my husband gingerly pried her shredded fingers open and I sprayed and bandaged and taped as quickly as my inexperienced hands would allow.  Claire made sure to fulfill her role in this as well and would scream and thrash as much as she possibly could.  Each bandaging session left me feeling guilty for causing her pain, frazzled, and beyond anxious.  Luckily, after several days this process was downgraded from a 3-man job to a 2-man operation and now, finally, is one-woman gig.  (Lucky me).

Things looked like they were making slow but steady progress on most of her hand, but her 4th finger (the ring finger on her left hand, no less) just is not keeping up.  That poor finger got the worst of the damage, it seems, and has had great difficulty healing.  For almost a week I couldn’t even get a good look at it because she would not open her hand for anything, and when we’d force her hand open all the thrashing about prevented me from seeing much.  A few days ago she FINALLY started opening her hand on command, even patiently allowing me to bandage her up with only minor whimpering, and one part of her finger is still all gooey and oozy and fleshy and mangled and just…awful.  On Monday she began acting lethargic and feverish, and I panicked thinking infection had set in at last and called the doctor.

Fortunately, the doctor didn’t seem as panicked as I felt and offered some good advice and prescribed an antibiotic to stave of what looked to be just the beginnings of a bacterial infection.  He did say, though, that while it looked like tissue was regenerating in the deepest part of the wound, it appeared there was still dead tissue stuck in there that needed to come out.  I’m pretty sure I lost all color at that point, because he quickly assured me I wouldn’t have to scrub it, for heavens sake, but we still would need to care for it.  He suggested wrapping it in regular gauze as opposed to the non-stick kind, allowing it to dry and stick to the wound, soaking it in water and then taking it off in an effort to remove the dead tissue with it.  My stomach immediately knotted up and I wanted to positively beg him to take my daughter home with him for the next 3 days so he could take care of it, because I was done.  I could NOT intentionally cause my daughter any more pain.  No no no no no.

The unfortunate thing about being a parent is that you cannot simply drop your child off with someone else when the tough stuff happens.  You now must be the hero.  I remember reading an article once in my pre-child days where the writer described his young child dealing with some sort of worm/parasite thing?  And for weeks when they changed a diaper, they had to search for the appearance of said worm emerging from his child’s bowels, and then pull the worm the rest of the way out.  (I really hope you aren’t eating right now.) As the author described it: “it’s a damn horror show.”  That’s pretty much what played through my head and provided some tiny bit of comfort as I drove home from the pediatrician.  I may have to rip tissue out of my sweet daughter’s hand, but at least I’m not pulling a worm from her butt.

That night, as I placed regular gauze on her hand I couldn’t help but shed a few tears.  My dear girl had been so brave, so long-suffering and upbeat through this whole ordeal and still had a ways to go.  I was so proud of her.  How could I possibly inflict more pain on her?

Happily, this gauze treatment has been relatively smooth sailing.  We have to get pretty creative with ways to get her hand wet, since she still doesn’t like doing that, but she has tolerated the bandage changing like a true gem and it looks like we’re making progress.  Hopefully a couple more weeks and everything will be back to normal.

So, let’s recap what we’ve learned here:

1.  Treadmills and young children do not mix.  AT ALL.

2. Don’t put regular gauze on an open and oozing wound immediately after it happening unless you want to make the situation 100 times worse.

3.  Dora The Explorer band-aids, in fact, DO make the owie feel a little better.  So do popsicles.

4.  Being a kid is tough.  Being a parent is tough.  But we’re all stronger than we think we are.

As for the good news…well, this post is long enough, don’t you think?  That will have to wait for another day