Broken arm. What broken arm? There’s no time for that… I need to dance!
Broken arm. What broken arm? There’s no time for that… I need to dance!
I have to say I am very sad that summer has come to an end. It was great while it lasted. It slowly tip-toed in…and then quickly went out with a bang. Literally. A big one.
“I think Kaiya might have broken her arm”. Let me tell you, this is not the phone call you want to receive at work. Not to mention I work 45 minutes from the daycare. I’m lucky there weren’t any cops out that day, because I drove about 85 MPH to get to her as quickly as possible.
Miss Bean took a nasty spill and managed to break both forearm bones in her right arm. She fell victim to a very innocent looking octopus merry-go-round. Who would’ve known that a Little Tikes toy could do so much damage.
When I saw my baby, she was laying down and very quiet- which is not the norm. She told me she felt her bone touch her skin when she fell. Yuck! I looked at her forearm and it was concave.
I made the mistake of calling her pediatrician’s office, who told me to bring her in for an evaluation to determine if she needed x-rays. I should have said “An evaluation??? My child’s arm is bending in the wrong direction!!!” Note to self: next time go straight to the emergency room.
After 8 hours of sitting in the doctor’s office, then the hospital for x-rays, and then the emergency room of another hospital, my baby was finally released with an arm weighing about 5lbs more than when she came in.
All I can say is, thank God for the iPad and that they were able to give her a pink cast! Now the fun part- trying to keep it dry.
Well it has been a very, very long time since my last post and I have to say life is extremely crazy with two small children. No one could have EVER prepared me for the amount of energy (and patience) this would take. Working full time and raising these animals leaves me with little to no free time, however there is way too much funniness (i.e. craziness) going on in my house for me not to share.
I believe it is my duty as a fellow mom to share just how crazy life can be with small children. I will not sugar coat my stories – they are as real as can be. I am here to assure you that your child’s crazy and over-the-top behavior is completely normal.
So here we go again for another try. Let the stories begin….
So, I’ve been on a bit of a hiatus from blogging lately. It has been a very crazy month, or two. I never realized just how much work it is having two kids. It’s no joke when people say that having another child is like having 10 more. Add a full-time job into the mix and there is little or no time spare. My weekends are now a rat-race of Target runs, tackling piles of laundry, and trying to spend some time with the kids. Needless to say there hasn’t been any time left to write.
There is one thing I insisted on finding time for and that was making my daughter’s Halloween costume. She had been talking for months about being Ariel, the Little Mermaid. I brought her to the Disney store and asked her if she liked the Ariel dresses they had. She said,”No mumma. I want to be Ariel the mermaid. I need a looong green tail and seashell boobies.” Well, not sure if you’ve ever looked for a mermaid costume for a toddler, but none of them have tails. I decided to get to work. After a couple sleepless weekends, I was able to transform the little princess into the mermaid she wanted to be. I found a great shrimp costume for the little man, so the two were a perfect pair.
Yesterday I was having lunch with a coworker and he was telling me how his daughter told him the night before that she couldn’t wait to be a grown-up. He asked her why and she responded “so I can stay up real late like you and watch t.v.”. He started laughing and said “It’s not by choice, honey. It’s called insomnia.” This got me thinking… kids really have a warped view of what it’s like to be an adult.
I remember as a child I could not wait to grow up so I could “do whatever I want, whenever I want”. I think that is the perception that most kids have. And it could not be more wrong. Guess what??? After 30-something years, I’m still waiting for that day! Now, not only do I have a boss at work telling me what to do, but a husband and two little tyrants at home.
Kids really do not know how good they have it. Toddlers in particular. They have got it made. Here is the evidence to back my theory:
So there it is. I’ve pled my case.
Feel free to add to my list. Why does your kid have it made?
This morning we were on our way to gymnastics, our usual Saturday morning routine. My husband looked in the rear view mirror only to see Kaiya digging furiously into her left nostril. He said, “Get your fingers outta your nose” and then looked back to the road. She’s been sick and had a runny nose all week. I handed her a tissue and said “Here, use this. Not your finger”.
She took the tissue and wiped her nose. I checked back a minute later and saw her jamming her finger up there again. I said,”Stop picking. That’s gross!“.
Then she whimpered,”I’m trying to get the raisin out”. Oh, did I mention she was eating a box of raisins?
I said,”What raisin? You did not just stick a raisin up your nose, did you?”.
She nodded her head up and down. Then half crying said,”Mumma, it won’t come out”.
I looked at my husband and said,”You gotta be shitting me. Not again!”. We just had an incident with a popcorn kernel a few months ago. And if I remember correctly, it was also the left nostril.
I hopped into the back seat, grabbed a tissue, and blocked her right nostril. “Blow!”, I yelled. She started to cry,”Mumma, it’s stuck!”
“Stop crying and blow harder”, I said. One big blow and out came the biggest snot-covered raisin I’d ever seen.
“There it is”, I said and showed my daughter the booger-covered raisin on the tissue. “Let me see”, she said “I want to hold it”.
I handed her the tissue with the raisin and said “Don’t you dare eat it!”. She’s been known to eat a booger or two in her time, so I would not put it past her to eat the raisin.
All I can say is, thank god it came out and we didn’t need to take a trip to the ER.
Have your kids ever stuck anything up their nose?
Today I am starting a new category called “The Texts You Receive When You’re a Parent”. The past couple of weeks I’ve been receiving some pretty entertaining ones from the daycare.
It’s funny how things change. Just a few years ago, the majority of texts I received would say things like “Want to go out for drinks after work?” and “Want to go shopping on Saturday?”. Now the only messages I receive deal with pooping and gas, behavior problems, and more pooping. Ahhh, the joys of parenting.
I was at work last Thursday when I received this text from my children’s daycare provider:
Although I was mortified at my daughter’s choice in names, I have to admit I was laughing hysterically when I read this. I knew she must have picked the word up from somewhere, so I decided to investigate by giving the husband a call.
It seems that he “may have” muttered the words “little bitch” under his breath when she was acting up the other day. Nice, huh. Doesn’t he know that she has supersonic ears? The girl can hear a pigeon fart through a sliding glass door.
Well, I guess she took it as a compliment because she thought it would make a nice name for her new fuzzy friend. The funny thing is none of the other girls knew it was a “bad” word either. One of them actually said,”That’s our doggie’s other name”. Who knew Bitch would become such a popular name for pets? I wonder if we’ll see it on the Top Pet Names list for 2012.
All I can say is thank God the lady that watches my kids has a good sense of humor.
Yes, it is true. I sprayed my boobs with Fooey! Ultra-Bitter Spray to get my daughter to stop breast feeding. I know this may sound cruel, but drastic times call for drastic measures.
Please don’t judge me. You try having a piranha attached to your chest. I was afraid to have a nipple severed!
I gave her 2 years to self-wean and she wasn’t having it. Two Years! The fact is she never had a Lovie or a Blankie to help her fall asleep like most normal kids. Instead, she had my boobie.
My daughter was extremely attached to the boob from the start. At 2 months old, I began introducing the bottle to her in preparation for my return from maternity leave, but she refused it every time. This child was so stubborn, she would go 8 hours without eating. My husband eventually had to take a leave of absence and drive her an hour each way to my work for a lunch time feeding. When I got home at night it was a non-stop milk fest. This went on for about 7 months until finally, Finally, she began to take the bottle.
I should have known that was a sign for the times to come.
My plan was to stop breastfeeding her once she turned one. At this point she was fine during the day with a bottle, but whenever I was around she was attached to my chest like a fly on shit. If I was smart I would have invested in a prosthetic boob like Robert Dinero in Meet the Fockers. I’m sure they’re expensive, but it would have been cheaper than the ten grand I’m going to need to fork out for a boob job.
Worried that she wasn’t self-weaning, I contacted the La Leche League. I told them of my concern that my daughter was too old for breast feeding. The nurse said “It’s wonderful that you’re still breast feeding”. Wonderful? For who? I didn’t want my chest to look like as if a small animal had been gnawing on it. Have you seen Tara Reid’s boob?
After many failed attempts, my husband came up with the genius plan to spray my chest with the bitter spray. This is how it all went down:
My husband went to Petco to see what their were for options. He came home with the bottle of Fooey! I read the bottle and it sounded suitable: “Stops Undesirable Licking, Biting, & Chewing Behavior”. I thought, “Hell, I can even use this when I want him to leave me alone”.
So I sprayed my chest before bedtime, then waited for her to ask for her nighttime snack.
She said: “Mumma, bebe (boobie)”, pulling at my shirt.
I lifted my shirt and let her latch on. She quickly pulled off and said,”Bebe spicy”. My husband and I were trying not to laugh hysterically.
She latched on for a second time, then pulled off again saying,”Bebe bubbly. Mumma, wash it. Wash bebe.” At this point my husband and I were in tears.
She wasn’t giving up. After about 10 minutes, I felt bad and gave in. I washed it off and let her have her nighttime feeding.
To sum it all up, even the Fooey! could not keep this child away! I ended up having to cut her off cold turkey. It was a tough couple of weeks, but eventually she stopped asking for “bebe”. At least she was younger than the kid on Time magazine. Now that’s scary!