Last night, the Mister and I did something that I never in a million years thought we would do.
No, not that. Although, don't knock it until you try it.
The unthinkable act we committed: we let CJ cry it out.
Most of the time, CJ is a great little sleeper. He started sleeping through the night at around 8 weeks, and except for the four-month wakeful has done great ever since. I'd say 5 nights out of 7, he sleeps all night.
But those other 2 nights, they kill me. Especially since they usually fall on the weekends. Don't get me wrong, I'm grateful that he lets us get some solid sleep during the week. But the weekends are when we usually play catch-up on those missed hours during the week. He woke up Friday night around midnight and would not go back to sleep until I brought him into our bed and nursed him back to sleep. When that happens, I get no sleep because I have to basically stay in the same position for the rest of the night. I swear I'll end up with bed sores one day.
So when he decided to wake up last night at midnight, I couldn't do it. I have been dealing with a terrible cold for a few days, and I couldn't take another night of him crashing our bed. So I went in there and took him out of his crib once, nursed him back down, and put him back in his crib. He immediately popped up and started hollering. So I left the room and told the Mister what the deal was. I would go back in there and comfort him in three minutes. When I came back in, we would wait five minutes, and then he would go in there and soothe him. Then we would do every ten minutes for as long as it takes. So that's how it happened. I took my turn, the Mister took his turn.
CJ fell asleep before either of us had to go back in there. Much to my extreme relief, he did not wake up at all until after 7 this morning. Sleep. Glorious sleep.
And you know what? He was just as glad to see us this morning as he has been every other morning of his life. He is his normal jovial self, playing and laughing and tormenting the cat.
And tonight he went to sleep just fine. Now, I am fully prepared to have to repeat the process if necessary, but now that we've been through it once I know we can stick with it.
Honestly, it wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. I have always been leery of CIO, thinking it was unnecessary and that babies would all sleep through the night eventually, right? But then I had to remember that I was blessed with a good sleeper. I read horror stories on blogs and message boards about parents who haven't had a full night's sleep in nine months. All it took for me was one night of no sleep and being incredibly sick at the same time. Does that make me weak? Probably. But then I think if I had started this process sooner, he wouldn't be so set in his ways. We might would be able to travel and not have him wake up a million times a night when he is in a strange bed. Lessons learned.
The thing that made it easiest was that I knew he was fake crying. I know when he is really crying and when he is just making noise. And last night he was just making noise. He would look straight at the monitor camera and holler, then look around his room, roll around the crib, then look right back at the camera and holler. I guess when he realized that he wasn't going to get his way, he gave up and went to sleep. And he's fine. We had a great day. Hopefully we will have a great night.
So another "I'll never do that" bites the dust. I don't feel bad about it. I've never judged other parents on their choice to sleep train, but I just always thought that it wasn't for me. But desperate times call for desperate measures, and one of the purposes of being a parent is learning how to adapt.
So thank you, Dr. Ferber. Thank you for giving moms everywhere hope that eventually, we will sleep again.
Well, I've lost two pounds.
I weighed myself Wednesday morning on a whim and I was horrified with what I saw. I decided enough was enough. This baby weight is GOING. It has to. I hate waking up every morning hating myself when I look in the mirror. Yes, hating.
Eating issues, party of one.
I've always had issues with food, the biggest issue being that I LOVE IT. Consequently, I've been overweight about half my life. I was a normal sized child. I started getting chunky in middle school, and stayed overweight until I was about a senior and started working hard on my tennis (and started my Adderol prescription). I was a healthy weight until I was a 5th year senior in college. I was no longer playing competitive tennis on a collegiate level, but was still eating like I was. Beer didn't help much, either. I had gotten quite heavy again by Christmas 2002. During that Christmas break, my parents and I paid a visit to my grandparents (my dad's folks). During that visit, my grandfather told me, "Rachel, you need to lay off the groceries, you're looking too thick around the middle."
I spent the next half hour in the bathroom crying.
I spent the next few years with dealing with disordered eating patterns and overexercising, which I only broke finally and completely free of when we decided that we wanted to try to have a baby.
But I was thin! Oh, was I thin. I was GORGEOUS. I was six feet tall and a size 8/10. I felt beautiful, attractive, confident, happy. I looked healthy, but I really wasn't. I definitely feel better now than I did when I was thin, but I hate the way I look. I still have most of my skinny clothes. Every time I see them, I get angry at myself. But instead of hitting the treadmill, I raid the pantry. So I have no one to blame but myself. I know this. Doesn't make it any easier to look at myself in the mirror. Things have to change, and they have to change NOW.
Don't get me wrong. I'm not going to slip back into my old habits. I'm going to do it right this time, so that hopefully it will stay off instead of creeping back on when I start eating normally again. Eating disorders are easy. Diet, exercise, and behavior modification are exceedingly hard. And I have trouble sticking with things that don't come easily to me, because most things come easily to me.
But you know what? I'M A MOM. I CAN DO ANYTHING. I was cut open, and life was brought forth from my being! I GREW A HUMAN. I have kept him alive for ten months. And I'm whining about a little weight loss? Pshaw. Pshaw, I say! I just need to quit complaining and DO IT.
So I'm doing it. Starting with these two measly pounds. It's not much, but it's what I've got right now.
So, I still have pink eye. Only now it is in both eyes and worse. On top of the pink eye, I had to leave work at 3:30 yesterday afternoon because I felt so nauseated that I couldn't even perform my most basic job functions as they required me to sit up straight. When I got home yesterday afternoon I had the shivers and couldn't get warm. I went straight to the bedroom, took off my pants, and crawled under the covers. I stayed in the bed, sleeping off and on, until it was time to put CJ to bed. Then I ate a bowl of cereal, hoping it would stay down, took some Tylenol PM, and crawled back in the bed. I'm home from work today because of the pink eye, and because I am still feeling a bit ill. The Mister took CJ to daycare so I could get some rest today. So here I sit, alone in my home.
I feel robbed of my time with CJ. Robbed by sickness. I was so weak I could barely lift his 25-pound body. I only get about three hours with him a day while he is awake, and yesterday I only got to see him for about 45 minutes. Today, it feels so strange to be in my house by myself. I'm surrounded by baby toys, but no baby playing with them. The high chair is empty. There are no babbling sounds of him talking to the dogs or singing along with music. It's very disconcerting to be here by myself now.
But I just read Heather Spohr's latest blog entry. About Maddie's funeral. Maddie was her almost 2-year old daughter. She passed away a little over a year ago. I think about how she must have felt on this day a year ago, shortly after her daughter's funeral. I can't think about it for long. I broke down in tears after reading the blog entry. So while I'm sitting here feeling lonely because my child is at daycare and I'm home, there are parents out there whose children are never coming home. My heart broke last year when Maddie passed away, and it is broken all over again for her parents who have had to go on without her.
This is my first Thankful on Thursday entry. I am going to try to keep it up every week. I am thankful for:
1. My dear sweet son.
2. My wonderful husband, who is a better father than I could have ever imagined.
3. A roof over my head.
4. A comfortable home.
5. An employer that offers me sick time and is understanding when I need to take it.
6. Food in the kitchen.
7. Modern plumbing.
8. Modern medicine.
9. Sunshine.
10. Baby gates.
We haz it.
I got a call from CJ's school yesterday telling me that he had some red swollen eyes and they were a little runny. We thought maybe it might be allergies, but decided that if it didn't improve or got worse by this morning then we would take him to the doctor.
It was worse.
The cherry on top of the pinkeye cake is that I have it. I, a 29-year old woman, have pinkeye. Like a fourth-grader. And MAN, does it BITE DONKEY BOTTOMS. Of course, I had to use a sick day because I am a pariah. And it's Barbecue Day. I love Barbecue Day.
I had pinkeye as a child, but I guess the memory of the suckage faded with time, as it often does. How else would we explain why women keep having children? I am miserable. And if I'm this miserable, I can't even begin to imagine how CJ feels.
He's taking it like a man, though. I can tell he doesn't feel well, but he's playing and trying to have fun. He's needed a little extra love today, which I have gladly provided. Turns out he also has a mild ear infection (but what else is new), so the doctor prescribed him an oral antibiotic instead of eye drops so we could kill two birds with one stone.
But I have nothing. NOTHING. I guess if my eye isn't better by Thursday I will go to the doctor. But I don't want to.
Because I don't want to be weighed.
Originally posted on January 26, 2007.
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So, it all started yesterday morning.
We were asleep, all snugly in the bed, me and the Mister and Sammy. Then the blasted alarm went off. So I woke up, and kicked my feet to try to move Sammy off them. He mrowed like he was in pain. I reached down to pet him, and usually he would jump up and try to get on my belly. He just laid there, occasionally meowing that same pained meow. I had no idea what might be wrong with him, so I told myself that I would see how he was acting that evening and decide then if I needed to make him an appointment to see the vet.
Later that evening, I got home from work and checked on Sammy. He was under the bed, so I didn’t get to really check him out. We left to drop some clothes off at Goodwill, went to the gym, went to Wal-Mart, then came home. Sammy was still under the bed. I dragged him out, and he meowed the painful meow again. We got ready for bed, and were all settled in. The Mister picked Sammy up and put him on his belly. He kept meowing like he was knocking on death’s door. Meanwhile, I was on the computer researching various feline ailments and trying to decipher his symptoms, which were: lethargy, sensitivity to touch, excessive drooling and thirst, etc. I figured he’d had a stroke or a seizure or something serious like that. All the signs, however, pointed to kidney trouble: stones or beginning stages of kidney failure. So, I found an all night emergency vet and gave them a call. I explained what was going on and the nurse said that it did in fact sound like some sort of kidney trouble and that was very life threatening and she would advise bringing him in.
So, we got up, got dressed, rolled Sammy up in a blanket, and off we went to the emergency vet. We got there and the nurse I spoke with on the phone took Sammy back to an exam room. I don’t know what they were doing to him, but you’d think they were pulling out his claws one by one the way he was yowling. We talked to the doctor after she examined him, and she said that he was definitely in pain, but she couldn’t really feel what might be wrong because he wouldn’t let her feel around on his belly because it hurt. So she got our permission to give him a pain reliever shot so she could palpate the area a little better. Then she said if she couldn’t feel anything obvious she would need to take x-rays. We signed off on it, and a bit later she came back with the x-rays. She put them up on the screen, and there it was, plain as day.
Sammy was constipated.
The doctor said he was very backed up, and that was likely what was causing pain in his abdomen. She said the symptoms we were noticing were consistent with constipation in felines. What Sammy needed, she said, was an enema. Lovely. So, she wrote us up a couple of estimates: the cheap-out, take our chances estimate, and the spare no expense keep him overnight for observation estimate. We chose the first one. So Sammy got his enema, and we went home with instructions to take him to his regular vet first thing in the morning. So guess who got to do that chore.
We went to the vet this morning. Sammy was feeling a little better, but was still on the feel-good shot so that was to be expected. Got him in the exam room, and the vet tech tried to take his temperature up the back door. He was having none of that, and growled at her. No temp for him. The vet came in after a bit, and she tried to feel around on his belly. Did not like that at all either. He growled, mrowed, hissed, and hollered the entire time she was in there. She finally had to grab him by the scruff of his neck to feel on his belly, and he bitched the whole time. She was concerned that he hadn’t gone poop all evening after having the enema. He might have gone at the emergency vet, I said, but I didn’t know for sure. She kept pushing around on his belly, talking about how concerned she was that he hadn’t pooped, when all of a sudden, he unleashed a torrent of poop torpedoes right there on the exam table. The doc said, “well, that makes me feel better.” Imagine how Sammy felt. He was right back to his spry old self after that. He still needed some medicine and bloodwork and urinalysis, but I could tell he was feeling better. $600 later, I have Sammy back to his crotchety old self.
Emergency vet visit: $99
X-rays: $150
Pain shot: $50
Exam fee, subcutaneous fluid injection, and enema: $175
Regular vet visit, medicine, special food: $225
The memory of the sound your 14-year old cat makes while receiving an enema: PRICELESS.
Geez. Animals.
I am a working mom. I don't get home in the evenings until around 6pm, depending on traffic (and in Atlanta, that is a HUGE variable). I don't have a lot of time (or desire) to slave over a stove in the evenings when I have a baby and a husband to tend to, as well as take care of my animals and try to keep the house is some semblance of organized chaos. So I like to have several go-to recipes in my quiver that are easy, fast, and inexpensive to make. They may or may not be the healthiest dishes, but that's just the price I have to pay with the limited amount of time I have to make dinner at night. None of them are ridiculously UNhealthy, but it sure ain't grilled fish and a side salad. Comfort food is my thing. After a long day at work, I want something tasty and filling in my belly.
I have several recipes that fit that bill, and this one is a rediscovered favorite. I don't know what the actual name of it is, as I got the recipe from my sister-in-law, but I like to call it Spaghetti Stroganoff. It uses egg noodles instead of spaghetti noodles, and my mother always made beef stroganoff with egg noodles so anything with egg noodles automatically reminds me of stroganoff. So here you go.
Spaghetti Stroganoff (total prep time: 45 minutes)
Ingredients (serves about 10):
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1 bag of medium egg noodles (I know the picture uses spaghetti, but I use egg noodles)
-
1 pound ground beef (I use 93/7 beef for everything)
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1 jar of your preferred spaghetti sauce (or make your own)
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1 block of cream cheese (you can use the light to save some calories)
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1 16-oz container of sour cream (again, you can use light)
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1 bag of shredded cheese (whatever kind you like; I use colby/jack and mozzarella)
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9x13" glass baking pan (preferably with a lid, because you WILL have leftovers unless you're making for a large number of people)
Cook the entire bag of noodles as directed.
Brown the ground beef.
Mix in the spaghetti sauce with the cooked ground beef.
In a mixing bowl, combine the block of cream cheese (softened) with the entire container of sour cream and mix together. The mixture should be creamy in texture.
After all of your ingredients are prepared, you're ready to start layering the stuff in the pan. The noodles go on the bottom. Next, pour your cream cheese/sour cream mixture over the noodles and spread as evenly as you can get it. Pour the spaghetti sauce on top of the CC/SC mixture, again spreading around evenly. The top layer will be your shredded cheese. I like a nice ooey-gooey layer of cheese, but you can put as much or as little of it as you want. However much cheese you put on, just spread it evenly over the spaghetti sauce so you get a nice bubbly baked cheese.
Bake the entire thing in the oven on 350 degrees for about 35 minutes, or until your cheese is melted and delicious-looking. After removing from the oven, let it cool and set for about five minutes. Then grab a serving spoon and dish it out to your hungry family. You're done!
I made this dish last night when I got home from work. I started cooking at about 6:15 and was serving it right before 7pm. Next time I make it I will take pictures of the final product, because it presents very well. You can add a side salad or garlic bread if you'd like, but I find a good heaping 3x4" serving to be very filling.
Happy eating!
So I stepped into the Alleged Pen Stealer's office this morning to set down some papers as he is out of town for a deposition. On a whim, I took a glance in his half-opened desk drawer. Well, what did mine wandering eyes spy in said desk drawer?
MY BLUE PEN.
The blue pen that he stole from me on April 2. So Alleged Pen Stealer is now Confirmed Pen Stealer.
Maybe that's why I took such delight in tricking him into wearing a ladies' blouse in my dream the other night. Because he stole what was rightfully mine! Vengeance must be wrought, even in my subconscious.
So I took my pen back.
And one of his for good measure.
Take that, Pen Stealer.
Last night I woke up from a dream in a fit of hysterical laughter around 2am. The dream was long and drawn out, but I'll get down to the part that made me laugh:
I was with the Mister in some sort of institutional setting, a school or a hospital or the like. We were looking through a closet with various articles of clothing. I was sitting on the floor sorting the clothes and the Mister was handing them to me. He handed me a silver button-up shirt that had sparkly swirly flowers, big cuffs, and a big collar. Think Saturday Night Fever. I looked at the door and saw one of my law partners walking by.
Sidenote: this particular partner is notorious for wandering the halls at work for no particular reason. He just gets up and walks around. Sometimes just around the office, sometimes down the elevator and out the front door. You never really know where he is going to pop up next, which I guess is why I wasn't surprised to see him walking by us in this place that was not my office.
Anyway, law partner walks by the door. I call out to him, "hey Partner, I found a shirt for you to wear to your seventies reunion!"
Partner: "Oh, great!"
Me: "Does it matter that the buttons are on the wrong side?"
Partner: "No, that's fine."
At this point, I look up at DH, put my hands around my mouth, and whisper to him, "THAT MEANS IT'S FOR LADIES!!!" And then I break down into a hysterical giggle fit in my dream.
I then wake up from my dream in a hysterical giggle fit. I could not, COULD NOT stop myself from laughing. I laughed so loudly that the Mister woke up and asked what the frick was wrong with me. He said that I was laughing like the clown from Saw and that it was freaking him out. I told him about my dream, and he started laughing. When we woke up this morning he asked me if Gardner ended up going to the seventies reunion, which sent me into another inexplicable fit of laughter.
I have no idea why I laughed so long and hard over that dream in the middle of the night. Even now when I think about it I laugh really hard. It's not even that funny.
I told Partner about it, and he thought it was really funny too. We're cut from the same cloth as far as sense of humor goes. I'm just glad he didn't think it was weird that he made a guest appearance in my dream.
The nearest I can come to an explanation of why I laughed so hard in my dream, and continued to laugh extremely hard after I woke up, is that I thought it was funny that I managed to trick Partner into wearing a ladies' blouse.
Any other theories?
ETA: I have no idea what a seventies reunion is. My guess is some sort of theme party.
I'm trying to make a new tab up there next to the "About" page for all of your lovely buttons, but when I preview the page it only shows the HTML. How do I get it to show the image?
This past weekend we had had the pleasure of going "home" to Birmingham, Alabama for Easter. Our weekends back home are typically hectic and usually fun, but for some reason we all just had a great time. None of us wanted to leave on Sunday. :( But all good things must come to an end. At least we took a metric ton of pictures!
