Archive for July, 2011

"You can’t make me eat this!"- July 26, 2011

Tuesday, July 26th, 2011

This is look of absolute utter disdain….

This face says, “Don’t you put that disgusting crap back in my face!”  She’s eyeing this jar because I tried to feed her something with fruit in it.  I didn’t feed her anything with fruit for a long time.  I followed the pediatrician’s recommendation of going from organic cereal, to organic veggies, to organic meat and slowly introduce, you guessed it, organic fruit.  (I’m sure my boobs are chock full of pesticides, so I figure organic baby food might limit her carcinogen intake.)  
You always hear “Keep them off the sweet stuff as long as you can!”  So I did.  The thing is.  She hates fruit.  I’m not sure it’s sweet stuff she hates, but anything the slightest bit tart.  She loves cereal with breast milk, which is very sweet, so who knows?  The weird thing is, she will scarf up stuff that tastes terrible like Chicken and Brown Rice, but not eat the Banana Peach stuff that rocks!  (Yeah, I’m a baby food taster.  What’s it to ya?)  
You’ll notice the paci in her mouth.  Yeah, I was feeding her and she saw the paci on the highchair and put it in her mouth so I wouldn’t feed her anymore.  I fell out laughing at her not-so-subtle protest.   

Thanks- July 25, 2011

Monday, July 25th, 2011

It’s been more than a month since I emotionally vomited on your computer screen with this post.  I was so hesitant to spew all that, but I’m so glad I did.  Out of the chunks of my PPD puke came wonderful responses.

This text from an old friend made me feel supported….

“Read your blog post from yesterday.  I love you and good for you for getting help!!!!”
This comment from a reader/friend made me feel not so alone…
“To be honest, I’ve not yet met a mom who didn’t have the repeated visions of the baby getting run over by a car, falling off a pier, getting burned with boiling water, all those things that flash through our minds and make us recoil at the thought. I think to some extent, those thoughts help us to be a bit more careful with the new fragile life that we’re safe-guarding. Those thoughts are obstrusive and disturbing, though. I did end up getting back on meds after John because of the rage I kept having. Rage at my husband, at my two-year-old, at the baby… you name it. Then my other OCD symptoms came back (non-baby-related) so I refilled my Rx and didn’t look back. When I went for my post-partum check up, the doctor asked me if I’d had suicidal or homicidal thoughts. I had not, but I had some really abusive thoughts which was reason enough for me to rejoin the ranks of the medicated.”  

This Tweet made me feel like I had made a difference….

 Fun Mama 


A call from an old friend in tears who said she called a therapist after reading was just the beginning.  (Love you!  You know who you are.)  So many of my family and friends called.  I couldn’t believe how many women told me they went through the same thing.  I NEVER KNEW!  

Blair hooked me up with this site.  Katherine is amazing!  Her site is wonderful and so many women have told their stories.  

So the moral of the story is, I feel so much better since I admitted everything.  I’m a little more than a week away from my 30th birthday and I’m feeling very blessed.  This blog, and the connections I’ve made are part of those blessings.  Thank you readers.  Thank you.  

"Ewww! Is that your foot?!" – July 20, 2011

Wednesday, July 20th, 2011

First off, let me apologize for writing a post about my nasty foot.  I’ll also say I’m even more sorry for posting a picture of it.  But, this is pretty much a blog about my life and frankly my foot has taken over my life in recent days.

Here it is… (Remember, I already apologized for this…twice.)

This is the “small” size picture.  You’re welcome.  
Look at that thing!  I mean, I have boogidy, ape-like feet anyway.  For the past three summers I cannot go without getting attacked by fire ants.  I don’t know what my deal is.  You can see my second toe is all blistered and the rest of this appendage is swollen.  I can’t wear anything but sandals, which is how ants attacked me in the first place.  I was only standing on the sidewalk for this year’s attack!  The sidewalk in the city!  And why does this always happen when I’m in need of a pedicure?!
Yesterday I couldn’t post because I was Benadryl-drunk.  For the 2009 attack, I got some Prednisone.  Awesome!  Cankles gone!  Last year I was pregnant so I had to rely on Benadryl.  Now, I don’t want Prednisone in my breast milk.  ::sigh::  I guess I’ll just keep tripping on Benadryl.  Topical creams don’t help the itch, nor the swelling.  
I’m open to your fire ant remedies.  

A different kind of PPD- July 18, 2011

Monday, July 18th, 2011

I hope you enjoyed that little ditty as much as I did.

Last Tuesday I was telling ya’ll about my affinity for the boy who lived. (Have a read, it’s quick) We got a sitter, some popcorn, and Cokes. We joined our friends Dave and Trish. I braced myself to watch it all end.

The row of children in front of me held it together as I openly wept. It was a tad ridiculous for a grown woman to do that much crying during a kids movie.

When we left the theater Trish said, “I think I’m suffering from PPD!” I looked at her startled considering all my online discussion of Postpartum Depression. She said, “I’m suffering from Post Potter Depression! Now what are we going to do?”

I laughed harder than I did watching this video. If I had to pick a PPD I think Potter would be it, no matter how sad I am it’s over.


Lock up- July 14, 2011

Thursday, July 14th, 2011

With a little sadness at the speed of her growth, we packed up Charlotte’s infant seat and MamaRoo.  She just wants to climb out of them, on them, and generally make things more dangerous for herself.  As our little explorer crawls and pulls herself up on everything she can, the most common phrases heard at our house are “Charlotte!”  “No!”  “Stop!”  “Careful!  “Gentle!”  (“Gentle” is around Ginger.  Poor dog, she is a trooper.) 

With all of her activity we have started putting her in the Pack ‘N Play like a playpen.  We have dubbed it “baby jail.”

Greyson does a running commentary when she does this.  “Let me out!  Why do I have to be in baby jail?!?!  What crime have I committed!?  I’ve broken no baby laws!” 

We don’t leave her in there that often and she still loves her exersaucer.  Most often, she does something adorable like this and usually gets picked up.  We’re lousy wardens.