Sunday, Monday... Happy Days!

This was a post I started back in July. I have no idea why I never actually posted it on my site. So I updated it near the end and decided to use it for today's post. Is that considered cheating?

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I have a problem.


My beloved and adorable daughter, Googie, has picked up some less than desirable words in her quest to conquer the English language.


A few weeks ago, we were grocery shopping. Googie was happily riding in the shopping cart. A woman was approaching us from the opposite end of the store aisle. She reached out to pick up a canned good, but dropped it on the floor.


"Damn it!"


Stunned silence from all around. And all eyes turned to the person who uttered the expletive. Here's a hint... it was not the lady who dropped the can.

Yep. You guessed it. It was MY DAUGHTER!

Of course, those who know The Hub and I probably aren't truly surprised she said such a thing. After all, I've been known to let loose a verbal string of expletives that would make a seasoned sailor blush like a virgin on her wedding night.

Sometimes I blame it on my line of work. Things can get incredibly stressful in the control room. When your entire newscast is crashing and burning before your eyes, sometimes you just need to let it out.

But since having kids, The Hub and I decided we really needed to clean up our language. But we knew we couldn't just quit cold turkey. We needed to have some transition words for those stressful situations. We tried out the darns, rats, fooeys... they just didn't fit.

Then... somehow, someway... we came up with the following list of alternatives:

1. Fonz or fonzin


2. Joanie


3. Chachi


4. Potsie

Now, it shouldn't be hard to figure out how Fonz is used.... but, just in case there are some virgins out there who are actually reading my blog on their wedding night instead of getting down and dirty... Fonz is the fill-in for Fuck.

Fonz You! Mother Fonzer! I am so Fonzin tired of this bull!

So you get the idea, right?

Joanie is the more friendly version of bitch.

Wow, Jane is being such a Joanie today. She must be seriously PMSing.

Chachi is a little more interchangeable. It doesn't have a definitive spot. I just use it was a wildcard word.

John, I can't believe you just called me a Joanie! That really hurt my feelings you fonzin' Chachi!

Potsie usually stands for Prick or Ass, or just about anything. I just like the way it sounds.

Jamie was really being a Potsie during the meeting today.

So there you have it. Some suggestions if you happen to be looking for a way to clean up your language.

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I'm proud to report now, 4 months later, my daughter rarely, if ever mutters a single curse word. I must be doing something right!

One in a Million (Well, 1 in 1,413,056 to be exact)

I'm a child of the 70's.

I'm a child of the 70's with probably THE most popular name of that decade.

Hello, my name is Jennifer and I am 1 in 1,413,056 . That's according to How Many of Me.

Think about that. Nearly 1.5 million people have my same first name. No wonder I was always Jennifer M. in school. I don't think I was ever in a class without at least 2 other Jennifers throughout my school years. There were a few classes where there were 5 of us!!!!

(It didn't help that I don't have a middle name. But that's a blog for another day.)

Even as an adult I can't escape the multiples of J's. In my department alone, there are 4 people, including myself, named Jennifer. Heck, there used to be 5, but she moved on to a bigger market. I will proudly say, I was the original Jennifer... well, at least in the last decade there, probably.

When the subsequent Jens got hired, I was given a nickname by some of my co-workers. Back when JLo first got popular, someone decided to dub me JRo. And so, that name has stuck, 7 years later.

So, it seems, I will never get to just be Jennifer. There are too darn many of us!

I guess it's no wonder that once I signed up for this NaBloPoMo gig, I was quickly contacted and asked if I wanted to join The Circle of Jens group. Jen Y. over at A Thousand Times No said the powerful and many Jennifers out there make up 2% of NaBloPoMo. Woot! Shout out to us all!
She gave me the idea to blog about all things Jen.

So from one Jennifer to another, thank you!

HowManyOfMe.com

There are 1,413,056 people named Jennifer in the U.S.A. How many have your name?

It's Beginning to Sound A Lot Like Christmas...

... and I LOVE it!

Yes, the calendar says November 6. Yes, stores have had their Christmas displays up since April. But, for the most part, I'm in heaven!

What I consider the "holiday season" (Halloween-New Years) has been my favorite time of year since I can remember. I LIVE for the chance to drive around and admire the twinkling lights strung up on homes across my hometown. And the Christmas music... oh, the Christmas music.

It honestly doesn't bother me to hear Christmas Carols when I'm just throwing out my now rotten jack-o-lanterns. I was in heaven driving to work the other night. I was scanning through the radio dial and heard the first Christmas songs of the season on Radio Delilah. Most people might recoil in horror. Not me. I turned the radio up. I sang along. I had tears in my eyes (yes, I'm a sap).

I think my love for Christmas music comes from my high school band days. Sure, we'd still be in full-blown marching season, but our band director would still have us reading through Christmas sheet music to prepare for our Christmas concert.

It wasn't odd for me to be seen carrying Halloween candy to school, along with my books and a folder filled with the flute/piccolo parts to some very familiar Christmas songs. My all time favorite was Stille Nacht by Manheim Steamroller. We even sang the "Oooooo" parts. To this day, hearing this song makes me think of high school band performances.

I guess ultimately, Christmas music, Christmas decorations... they are all emotional triggers to some very happy memories. Memories filled with childhood delight at what Santa left under the tree... of dinners with my mom and dad, grandparents, countless aunts, uncles and cousins... the smell of a warm fire mixed with the sweet aroma of a Christmas tree covered in twinkling lights and sparkling ornaments... of happiness.

I love Christmas. I love Christmas music. I can't wait to watch Googie and Soupy grow. I hope I can instill in them the feeling of family, hope and love I feel every holiday season.

Deck the halls!

Things I Hate Today

*Calling in sick for a Friday. I always feel like people don't believe that I'm really ill.

*Calling in sick late in the day (I work overnights). I went to bed Thursday morning feeling a little sniffly, but otherwise ok. I woke Thursday afternoon with fever, a throat so sore I could barely swallow or even talk and swollen lymph nodes in my neck. Calling in at 1:30pm meant my replacement (who was already well into working half his day already) had to be sent home, only to return to work at 10:30pm.

*Having a ridiculously sore throat. A throat, as mentioned above, so sore I can't really swallow or talk. I like to talk. A lot. And... well, if you don't swallow, where does the saliva go? That's right... you get drooly (or at least, I get drooly). I feel like a St. Bernard for Godsake.

Just Make It Go Away

Of all the things we should've said, That were never said.

All the things we should've done, That we never did.

All the things that you needed from me.

All the things that you wanted for me.

All the things that I should've given, But I didn't.

It's hard to believe it's been four years. And yet, it's not that hard to believe.

Four years since my Dad died.

Tonight, I'm moved to tears.

I miss him so very much.

It's not fair. Life's not fair, I know. But I shouldn't have lost my dad so soon. My dad was just two months shy of turning 51 years old when he died. Before he got the chance to watch his first granddaughter, my oldest niece (in the pics with him) grow into the beautiful young lady she is today. Before he got to see my sister's other beautiful daughter, named for him.

Before he saw my babies... my beautiful baby girl, Googie. Before he saw his grandson, who also shares his name.

I want to scream. Even now. Scream like I did the night I found out he was gone.

The pain feels as raw tonight as it did four years ago when I sat on my sister's front porch, racked with sobs.

I've wanted to write something on this sad anniversary. I've been composing it for months in my head.

But sitting here, in front of the computer tonight, all I can do is cry.

I miss his smell.

I miss his voice. Sometimes it's so hard to remember the sound of it.

I miss his laugh.

I miss his stupid jokes. He'd tell you the same joke 20 times. It never got any funnier, but that didn't matter. He was known for his sense of humor, for his pranks and his jokes.

I like to think I got my sense of humor from him.

We didn't always get along well in the last few years of his life. Sometimes I hate myself for that.
Especially around this time of year.

My dad wasn't a saint, but really who is? He was a good man. He was a good friend. He was a good dad.

I wish the pain of missing him so much would go away. I wish I could make it through this anniversary without tears... I wish I could just enjoy the warm memories...

Maybe someday.

I miss you Boudreau.

Doh!

What happens you take The Hub, add family photos and a computer website that can turn you into a character from a popular animated series?





You get this, of course. A fine portrait of our Fam-Damily! It's pretty spot on... at least for The Hub and I.

If you'd like to see what a Simpsonized version of yourself would look like, go for it. But I wanna see, so you better share!

After all, I showed you mine!

When Good Moms... Go Bad

Or maybe a better title would be "When Good Moms Get Drunk".

This is what happens when you have to say goodbye to a friend, who moves to the other side of the country.


The two friends left behind drown their sorrows in $10 martinis and pose for photos as they lick sugar off the rim of the glass.



A left behind friend puts on a brave face in a photo with the friend who is leaving.

Another brave face from the other one left behind.

And a left behind friend tries on a pair of hooker heels in the sex shop. I'm not sayin' who that foot belongs to, though!

Going Out of My Mind

That has to be it. That is the explanation for the adventure I'm about to embark upon.

You see, Googie turns 2 years old this weekend. I've decided, under some kind of drug-induced stupor, surely, I will make her birthday cake. And I have no one to blame but myself for this decision. It's not like Googie made the request. Nope.

I saw this...

And decided my daughter MUST have it for her 2nd birthday cake. (Cake from Woman's Day Magazine, Tropical Cake)

I'll pause now so you can finish laughing.

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Done yet? No??? Ok, carry on.

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Surely you are done now, right? Seriously?

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Ok. Who told you about my lack of artistry at cake decorating? Yes, there was that cockcake debacle. (Oh yeah, I haven't written about it... YET... Ok. I will.)

Anyhoo... so, I'm making this cake for Googie, along with a dozen or so cupcakes.

I'm nervous. REALLY nervous.

If I'm successful, I'll gleefully post photos of my confection creation.

If I'm not, I'll be sending The Hub up to Wal-Mart for a quickie cake.

I have until Thursday afternoon. We'll see what happens!

New Business Venture... or Glutton for Punishment???

So, evidently my 2 under 2, working outside of the home (and overnights to boot) and just life in general aren't enough to consume my time.

Oh, no! Sleeping an average of 4 hours a day must be too much for me. Cause I've decided, after much prodding from friends and family, to take the first steps toward a part time gig. I'm going to start offering my photography services to people. It's an idea I've thrown around before.

I've even slowly started setting up a little page for my new biz (though technically, it's not a REAL business... I mean, no business license, etc.).

You can check it out here. http://photographsandmemoriesbyjen.blogspot.com/ I'd love to see what you think!

EDIT TO ADD... Ok, so NO ONE was gonna tell me I actually wrote "consume my TEAM" in the first paragraph, instead of consume my "TIME". ROTFLMAO I'm a doofus.

Just.Can't.Do.It.

I have a to do list the length of my leg. But I just can't move.

I am battling a wicked cold and Soupy is trying to get over a wicked stomach virus. The Hub and Googie have a mild case of it.

I'm going to bed. Maybe I'll return to the Land of the Living sometime Wednesday.

Ego Booster... sort of?

So Googie is learning new words everyday. She's mastered several phrases, but her latest one... well, you'll see.

I was sitting on the bed the other night wearing a tank top sans bra. I was surfing the web on my laptop and she was bouncing around the bed like a little freak. She decided to sit behind me and fling her arms over my shoulders, in a reverse hug.

So, there we sit, Googie hanging over my shoulder as I read blogs. Evidently my tank top caught her eye. Cause she made a move for it, pulling it down to reveal my quite ample chest.

Googie: "Mommy! Boobies!"

Me: "Yes baby, Mommy's boobies."

Googie: "Boobies! HOT Boobies!"

At least someone noticed?!?!?!?! LOL

Random, Early Morning Thoughts

#1. Why did I take this shift change? I'm miserable. I'm always tired. I never see my friends anymore. Heck, I never see The Hub anymore. I DO get to see my kids, and for that I'm thankful. I guess I have to keep reminding myself I'm doing it for them.

#2. Why is one of my managers an asshat? Seriously. I got called out for something I admit I was doing. I don't resent that. I resent the very obvious double-standard that is now in play. I resent the "tone" of the call out. I resent what I feel is the insinuation that I'm a lazy producer. I'm not. I've been here for almost 7 years. I'm a damn good employee. This person has been here for 2 months.

#3. I'm worried people here think my shift change is a demotion. It wasn't. At least, I don't think it was. Do you get demoted but still get a big pay increase? Seriously, from prime time producer to overnight producer? Sometimes I think it was a demotion. It makes me sad. And depressed. And resentful. Which takes us back to #1 and then #2.

#4. I wish May sweeps was already over. Yes, it just started last week. I don't care. I'm over it.

#5. I need a vacation from this place. The events of the last 4 days have put me in a horribly negative mood (see #2). I hate feeling this way. I hate it even more when I take out my negativity on my family, specifically The Hub. He doesn't deserve it.

#6. Why do I have to tell someone what I want for Mother's Day? Why is there seemingly no advance thought put into it? Seriously. I don't mind making suggestions. But don't act shocked to learn it's coming this weekend. It's been on the calendar since the day you bought the darn thing for me for Christmas. It's not like I "penciled" it in.

#7. I'm glad my friend Mel has decided to get back in the blogging game. I miss her. Meeting her once a week for breakfast at Chik-Fil-A is not doing it for me. I want more attention. Yes, I'm a needy bitch that way.

#8. Soupy is growing like a weed. Seriously. He is the chunkiest monkey I know.

Worship his Chunky Monkey-ness. You know you want to! And who can resist that smile? No one, that's who!

#9. Soupy may not be the Chunkiest Monkey I've known. I think Googie may have that title under her belt. Check out her pic at 3 months old back in October '05.

#10. I love my babies!

Living My Dream

This week's Carnival topic from the CHBMs, “What’s your dream job? (Other than Motherhood)”.


You know, when I first read this topic, I thought it would be easy. Turns out, not so much, for me at least. I've thought about this for the better part of two days. It's not that I have never thought of something that could be classified as my "dream job". I have, check out my "through the years" list...

Elementary School
Secretary
Jockey
Veterinarian

Middle School Years
Astronaut
Lawyer
Bartender

High School Years
High School Band Director
Professional Flag Twirler
Professional Musician (flute/piccolo)

College Years
International Businesswoman
Director (television)
International Field Producer

Post-College Years
PR Director for hockey team
Special Projects Producer
Teacher

That's an interesting list, to be sure.... but now, I look at all of those jobs and wonder how I could have ever thought of them as dream jobs. They can't even compare with what I do now.

I get up every day, sometimes quite tired, but looking forward to what lies ahead. On the job I heal, nurture, teach, love and observe. Then, I actually leave and go to "work".

Though I never knew it before July 2005, being a mother is my dream job. I realize I'm not really following the Carnival question. But I'm being honest. I couldn't and wouldn't trade my "job" as a Mom for anything.

Sure, being a tv news producer can be exciting, but it can't be compared to being a Mom.

What's better...

Getting the big story of the day on the air flawlessly or lifting Googie into the air, inspiring her fits of giggles and adorable grins and making silly faces at Soupy until he grins and coos at me, laughing that adorable baby laugh?

Counting down the anchors to hit a perfect live interview with a network correspondent or sitting with Googie and Soupy counting down to the newest episode of "The Backyardigans"?

Being the first station on the air with a "breaking news story" or being the first person Googie or Soupy see when they wake up from a nap?

Sure, I have to deal with poopie diapers at home. And when I go to work, there's rarely a day when I'm not up to my waist in some newsroom "bullshit". I don't mind cleaning up after my kids. One day they will be potty trained. The other adults I work with, not so much.

Being a news producer isn't bad, I've done it for more than a decade. When it comes to bringing home a "paycheck", there's nothing else I can imagine myself doing right now.

But when it comes to my dream job... you can't beat being Mom. Sure there are really long hours, no vacation time or sick time.... but the benefits are amazing.

Being a full-time mother is one of the highest salaried jobs in my field, since the payment is pure love. ~Mildred B. Vermont

Can You Spare A Square?

Evidently, if you asked Sheryl Crow, she'd say, "I'm sorry, I don't have a square to spare."

And she likely wouldn't have a square to spare, because she thinks we should only use one square per trip to the restroom. Ms. Crow has decided to fight global warming by cracking down on just how much poo paper I use.

"I think we are an industrious enough people that we can make it work with only one square per restroom visit, except, of course, on those pesky occasions where two to three could be required." Sheryl Crow wipes away global warming

To be honest, the one square thing doesn't bother me as much as the two-three square limit for those, as she says, "pesky occasions". I can handle a wet hand... but the other? No way, Jose.

Look, I'm all for fighting global warming. I don't want polar bears to die. I don't want the glaciers to melt. I don't want the human race to die out. But I'm not rationing my 2-ply at this point. AIN'T.GONNA.DO.IT.

Get back to me when you've cracked down on the Hummer-driving, non-recycling, energy-wasting peeps in the world first.... then we'll talk.

The Sounds of Motherhood

As most Moms know, pregnancy occasionally brings uncontrollable flatulence... sometimes REALLY LOUD, uncontrollable flatulence.

Back when I was pregnant with BB, Googie and I were shopping at the FABUless Tarzhay when I felt it. It being the urge to let one hopefully sneak out undetected by my fellow shoppers.

I steered Googie to an uninhabited aisle in the baby section and let it slip. The sound was likely undetectable to any living thing outside of a 1/2 foot radius of my rear.

Well, to anything BUT Googie. Evidently my child has supersonic hearing. That AND the urge to become a town crier.

"Momma! Poo poo!!! Momma!! Poo poo! Stinky Poo poo! Momma P-U!"

Ahhh.. the joys of motherhood!

Oh and for the record... it WAS NOT stinky.

"It's Just Live TV"

Today I am missing a friend and a mentor... because today I learned of his death.

It's funny. We get so busy with our lives, we "forget" people. It's not intentional. It happens to us all at one time or another. And that's the case with R.B.

Let me tell you a little about R.B. He loved the news business. He loved the Florida Gators (his alma mater). He loved politics (when most of us would groan about some inane story idea he was so passionate about). He loved to argue... and he loved to think he was always right. I can remember always taking pleasure in the rare occasions I could prove him wrong. If you knew him, you'd understand why.

R.B. retired last October from our station. He was moving to the mountains to be closer to his kids and grandkids. He loved them so. He would often brag about his grandsons to me, sharing photos of them, telling me what funny little things they had done while he visited.

He loved all children. R.B. always enjoyed seeing pictures of Miss Googie, loved to dance and play peek a boo with her when she came to visit me here at work. She loved him right back. He never got the chance to meet Cam. I don't know if he ever even knew Cam had been born. I never got around to sharing the news with him. That makes me sad.

R.B. taught me a lot about the news business. He taught me even more about life. It's one in the same and it will always stick with me... "It's just live tv". Something would go wrong during a newscast. You'd turn to R.B., ready to spit nails you'd be so pissed... and he'd just sigh and say "It's just live tv". That was his way of saying, don't sweat the small stuff. And he was right.

At the end of the day, after a disaster of a show on air... R.B. could head out of the newsroom and leave all the crap at the door. After all, "It's just live tv". Shit happens, so to speak. Don't carry it home to the family.

I try to remember those words every day. I like to think of it as carrying a little bit of R.B. with me.

You'll be missed, R.B. Thanks for everything! When things get bad, I'll always try to remember to say... "It's just live tv."

Easter Poops

Ahhh, the sweet, sugary confection known as the Peep. I think they are too cute. But one thing you should know about the marshmallow candy... don't mock them. They like to get revenge. Seriously.

Come with me on a trip in the wayback machine, would you? Back several years... to a time before we had Googie or BB. The Hub and I got the bright idea to create a chocolate version of the marshmallow treat. So, we bought marshmallow fluff and added in some melted chocolate chips. Sinfully delicious.

But we couldn't stop there. Oh no. You see, I wanted to do a play on the "Peep" name. Now, being the type of people who really enjoy potty humor... what in the world could we have possibly come up with? I mean, chocolate marshmallow versions of a Peep. Hmmm... wait for it... you know what it is already, right... ok... here it is...

Yes, my friends, we decided to create Easter Poops. There we were with out chocolate bowl of chocolate-flavored marshmallow fluff and a piping bag. But wait... there's more. Why not throw in some chopped nuts... for texture! In went a cup or two of chopped almonds, if I remember correctly. So, there we were... ready to make nutty Easter Poops.

But, I couldn't stop there. Oh no. I added the Pièce de résistance You know those mini M&M's? I bought a bag. I seperated the colors into little piles. We decided M&Ms would be a nice addition to our Easter Poops. And just to carry out our theme a little more, we chose to use just the yellow ones. You know why. They looked like little niblets of corn.

There we were, giggling with childish abandon at the edible treats with a twist of potty humor we were about to make using a bowl of chocolate-flavored marshmallow fluff with chopped nuts and yellow mini M&M's. We scooped the mixture into the piping bag and proceeded to pipe it all out onto some wax paper. We got a little artsy and decided to make logs of Easter Poops, little Easter Pooplets, piles of dog-like Easter Poops... you name it, we created it.

And so, the Easter Poop was born. But, I angered the Peep Gods that day, my friends. And they knew, revenge is a dish best served cold. They waited... for years.... looking for the perfect time to strike. That perfect time was this past weekend.

While most homes were visited by the Easter Bunny over the weekend, it seems the Stomach Bug decided he'd stop by my house, too. Saturday afternoon, poor little BB started throwing up. He traded in his bottles of expensive, hypoallergenic (and incredibly stinky) baby formula for expensive, electrolyte-replacing (and fruity smelling) Pedialyte.

But one little 8 week old sick baby wasn't enough for our house. Oh No. Mr. Stomach Bug decided to get up close and personal with the Hub and Googie. In fact, yours truly was the only one immune to SB's charms. While the rest of my little family crashed early Saturday evening, I got to give the Easter Bunny a hand and put together my first Easter Baskets for my kids!

Not too bad for my first year actually playing the part of the Easter Bunny... if I do say so myself.


Googie scored big with jelly beans, organic chocolate eggs, 2 count 'em 2 easter bunnies, Backyardigans silverware, a Doodle Pro and (not pictured) a huge toy the Hub picked out to help her with her ABC's.




Googie, bed head and all, really loved her basket. I don't know what had her more excited.... the candy or the toys.

Lest you think I forgot about BB... he also scored with candy that will be enjoyed on his behalf by yours truly and the Hub. I also picked up some cute little stuffed rattles for the little man and the little dangly things for his car seat. I just didn't get any photos of him because he was a grumpy guss all day. I might have to go ahead and take some now that he's well.

In fact, everyone is back to normal now, thankfully.

The paypack poops for the Easter Poops from the Easter Peeps have finally left our home. Wonder what delightful deity I can piss off on our next holiday?

Playing Doctor

Google is a great tool. Heck, any good search engine is great! Google just happens to be my search enging of choice. But sometimes, these great little search engines and the information available online can be a very dangerous or scary thing.

Take for example what happened today. BB has been home with us now for almost 2 weeks. After having to leave him at the hospital every day for a week, it was so nice to get him home and in comfortable surroundings.

But on Saturday, poor little BB started puking. Everything. In. His. Stomach. For those of you with little or no experience with little ones, think about Linda Blair in "The Exorcist"... but imagine her as a 9 pound newborn and instead of split pea soup it's milk.

I figured the little man must have a stomach virus, as did the nurse who called me back Saturday. So, BB spent 24 hours drinking Pedialyte to fight dehydration. On Sunday, all seemed ok so he went back to enjoying his milk, with only a few "spit up" issues on Sunday and Monday.
But today, it was "The Exorcist Revisited" in our home.

This time, I felt sure BB had no stomach virus... but he was allergic to his formula. After all, I was allergic as a newborn... so was The Hub. Googie had to be on Soy Formula for a few months. I figured the apple didn't fall far from the tree in BB's case.

But the phone conversation I had with a nurse today was anything but reassuring when she said two words. Pyloric Stenosis. I was given an appointment to see the pediatrician almost immediately. But there was plenty of time for me to Google PS.

If you haven't already Googled the term by now, it's essentially a thickening of the muscles at the top of the stomach. Symptoms generaly start showing up by the 3rd week of life (BB is 18 days old as we speak). It affects caucasians, particularly firstborn males. And to remedy the problem, surgery is required.

So, a little knowedge can be a dangerous thing. I had about an hour and a half to mull all that over in my head before seeing a doctor. I was brought to tears before I even closed my laptop. Everything Cam seemed to be experiencing was all spelled out on the webpage Google had found for me. I was so scared.

I cried the whole way to the doctor's office, sobbing over the phone to a wonderful friend.

Was BB just trying to trump his big sister's 10 day stay in the NICU? Did he decide his 7 day stay in the hospital wasn't enough drama for him Mom and Dad? He was going to have to have surgery?

Thankfully, that does not appear to be the case. Given the family history, it seems to be a milk allergy (much as I suspected... thank you maternal instinct!). BB also has a bit of stridor (go ahead and Google that... I'm too tired to explain and it's after 1am...) and that, the doctor believes, is also contributing to reflux.

So the little man is on a super duper hypoallergenic formula and medicine to help with his reflux. It may take a week before we really notice a difference... but hopefully this will make everything better!

Just remember this little story the next time you hear some medical jargon and decide to play DotCom Doctor yourself. You could give yourself a heart attack!

Bringing Home Baby!

It's finally here! In just a few hours, BB will be home with us! He finished his last round of antibiotics this morning at 3am and we could have brought him home then... but it's so cold outside, I wanted to give it a bit of a chance to warm up!

So, The Hub is in the shower, I am about to put on makeup and fix my hair (have to look pretty for my little man) and then we're heading out!

A photographer from the station is meeting us there and will shoot video to run on the news this afternoon/evening, like we always do for our station babies!

I am so nervous/excited I can hardly stand it! Ok... no more typing! I must get ready... the sooner I'm ready the sooner we can leave... and the sooner we can bring our man home!

Healing

I was released from the hospital Sunday evening. The little man was born Thursday morning at 7:39 am and was a chunker at 9 pounds, 5 ounces. His resp. rate was pretty high (around 100, normal is about 60) so they ordered a chest x-ray and put him under an oxygen hood.

On Friday they repeated the x-ray and ran some blood tests. There was fluid in his left lung and the blood tests indicated an infection. A neonatalogist was called in for a second opinion and it was determined Baby Brother had pneumonia. Incidentally, the same thing happened to Googie after she was born, but she was much worse and was rushed to the NICU for 10 days.

So obviously normal and birth experience do not belong together for me. Well, I guess actually maybe this is the normal birth experience for me... having a baby, never having the baby come to your room, waiting 24 hours or so after birth before ever even being able to hold your baby, having very few visitors or phone calls... I experienced severe depression when Googie was born.

I realize when a baby is born, it's really the baby people come to see in the hospital... not the mother... and boy, when your baby can't be held by anyone, people evidently just don't even bother coming. When you are at possibly one of the lowest points of your life, with hormones raging, emotions running high because you are scared for the life of your child... you are alone. I lived it with Googie... and I got to re-live it this weekend with BB. I had several family members and very close friends who didn't bother to visit or even call to check on me. I'm definitely hurting a lot about that right now. It's like being kicked when you are down and damn if it doesn't hurt.

Add to that the anxiety and feeling of inadaquecy when you pump and pump and pump to get colostrum and milk going for your baby and you get nothing. So I feel like a failure at childbirth and a failure at breastfeeding. However, I now have a prescription for Reglan to help my milk come in and my feelings of general anxiety are getting better since I'm home and BB is doing so well. I know the anxiety will be resolved once he's home with me.

Well enough of that... I am working through those issues and dealing with my depression and moving on.

BB's x-ray was clear and his blood work was normal. That means, when his antibiotics are finished up on Thursday he should be coming home with us. For now, we go down to the hospital every morning for a few hours and The Hub is going back to work in the evenings for a few days to save his vacation time for when BB is home.

So Googie and I have some one on one time.

As for me, my epidural WORKED during this c-section. I am healing physically, and not anywhere near as sore as I was after my first c-section. I am sore and physically tired, but I really feel great. Mentally and emotionally will take some time, but I also have medication for that and a great doctor who listens to me.