Thingy-Things

June 6, 2011

Do you have weird things you think or do that really make no sense at all?  I have a few I need to confess BUT I want to hear yours too…

#1.  I love how Mickey Mouse and friends dance at the end of Mickey Mouse Club House– they seriously sing a song called “Hot Dog” and I wait the entire episode for those 30 seconds… when people aren’t looking, I practice dancing with them….

#2.  I think one of my feet is prettier than the other, so if I feel like people are looking at my feet or if attention is being draw to my feet, I put the “pretty” one on top of the other, nonchalantly.

#3.  I recently learned from The Bert Show that I’m old and it was a hard pill to swallow 😦  On National Donut Day- the only day since having a baby that I was in the car during Bert Show hours- Jeff Dauler was talking about what age is appropriate for wearing words across your rear end– you know, like the word “pink” etc… and he said that it’s only appropriate between the ages of 18-28. Anyway, I don’t EVER wear anything that draws attention to that area, especially NOT words so it’s not like that bothered it- but it was realizing that I’m almost done being in the “cool, hot, young” age bracket.  Just yesterday I was in college, right?

#4. When I was a child, my  mother used to split our napkins in half– she says we didn’t use them so it was a waste to give us a whole one, but I think she was just pinching pennies.  Regardless, it scarred me! As soon as I began buying  my own napkins, I swore I would only buy the expensive, think, luscious Vanity Fair white napkins.  For years, they are the only napkins that have been allowed in my kitchen- and they still make me happy.  Seriously.  Well about 6 months ago, I was at Target and we needed napkins, but I had left my good Vanity Fair coupon at home… so just one time, I bought the “off” target brand, with a bright colored pattern, thin and scratchy.  I bought the small package, and yet, they lasted FOREVER- the darn things wouldn’t go away- I swear they were reproducing!  I began putting 2 in Gabe’s lunch box, just to rid myself of them, but they still stayed around forever.  I WILL NEVER give into the temptation to be cheap again!  It haunted me for far too long.

#5. With both boys, I have kept the positive pregnancy test for the duration of my pregnancy.  Just in case I have to prove it- because that makes sense, right? Like in a basket on my dresser that other people can see if they walk in my room. And for some reason, I can only bring myself to throw it away once I’ve brought the baby home.  Because then it’s a sure thing?! BUT since Jack came home early, I haven’t thrown it away yet.  I think I’m waiting until June 23rd.

What unexplainable things do you do or think?  Please share!

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TMI: The Projectile Vomit Edition

April 26, 2011

Yesterday started off with a conversation with Courtney, our sitter that went something like this:

“Max slept 12 hours and doesn’t seem like anything is wrong or hurting but something is off.  He won’t eat breakfast, he didn’t eat dinner last night, and he doesn’t want to play.”

Courtney followed up throughout the day just affirming all of that- he seemed fine, continued napping well, barely ate, but didn’t even shoot basketball.

Weird!  But it’s not like I could call the doctor and say “he’s not playing basketball today” and expect them to take me seriously!

So then at dinner time, as Chad and Gabe were stuffing their food in before soccer, we stopped to pray as a family for friends who have gone into pre-term labor.  While we were praying (and everyone’s eyes were closed) Max grabbed Gabe’s water bottle and began chugging.  After the prayer, I put Max in his chair, hoping he was now hungry.  And all of a sudden he threw up.  But it was just water- so I assumed it was because he drank too much too fast.  The only times Max has thrown up was when he ate too much too fast- so I thought that probably applied to drinking too.

Of course the throwing up scared him and made him cry, so I picked him up and set him on my lap at the table and he was ok. For a minute.  And then he began the projectile stuff– everywhere– all over him, all over me, all over the table and floor- over and over and over.  I don’t even know where it all came from- because again, he didn’t eat all day! Gabe disappeared to his room and shut the door (smart boy!) and Chad who was getting dressed for soccer practice began bringing me rags and wash clothes while trying to tuck in his shirt and tie his cleats.

I of course, responded like any helpful, encouraging, mature mother would- I started bawling– sobbing, really.  Suppportive, I know.

So Max was scared, stuff was flying out of his mouth and nose, he was dry heaving and looking at me with sad, confused eyes, unable to understand what was going on, and his mother was crying.  Hard.  After several minutes of this, Chad and Gabe has to head out (Gabe used the front door to avoid the crime scene- again, smart boy!) And it was all I could do to get us both stripped out of the puke clothes and get Max to the tub.  Max was very upset that he had gotten stuff all over me- he kept saying “On Mommy” and pointing to my covered, splattered, and chunked clothing.

It took a long time to get everything cleaned back up- including two loads of laundry… and the rug is still hanging over the fence as of this morning, hoping the GA rain and storms will wash it clean.  And honestly, it was all I could do not to puke myself.

Max is now on the BRAT diet– bananas, rice, applesauce, and toast– they are supposed to be easy on your stomach.  And we were up many many times together throughout the night.  Lovely.  But it seems as though the things that are going in, are now staying down, and we can move on with our lives. Although, I am pretty scarred by this.  And I’m sure Max is scarred as well.

I think we’ve been lucky to make it 20 months without a stomach virus- which was obviously God knowing that I would not handle such things well.  It is/ was absolutely horrible to see my child like that- unable to help or alleviate the problem.  And really, unable to even explain it at all.  I just held him all night, rubbing his back, and telling him it was ok, while choking back my own pathetic tears.

This mom has had enough fun for one week- and it’s only Tuesday.  Yikes!


TMI: The Head Lice Saga

December 23, 2010

It’s been TOO long– one would think that nothing exciting or humorous or crazy has happened in our lives– nothing bloggable– but it’s quite the opposite.  As Max is entering into toddler-hood and Gabe and Chad are as entertaining as ever, believe me, there is still plenty of entertainment in the Bowman house– but I must blame it all on this unborn child– it has zapped my energy and my ability to be efficient.  When I lay down at night, I begin writing my next blog post in my head, but I never make it past the opening paragraph before sleep overtakes me…. but when I wake up, all I can think about it making it to the bathroom on time, and there goes my next post… so where should I pick up?

Let’s start with our infestation of head lice.  Yup.  Exactly– EWWWW, GROSS.  That’s exactly what I thought when I got the call that Gabe had lice.  Chad and I immediately recounted times in our childhood, when our elementary school teachers would put on rubber gloves, and sharpen two pencil and begin sifting through everyone’s hair.  Apparently that doesn’t happen much anymore in the school BUT head lice is rampant.  I began googling right away– and found out WAY too much information- you’d think I would’ve learned my lesson with that, by now.  I did breathe a sigh of relief when I found something that says that lice happens to everyone– not dirty people– thank you insecurities!

Gabe’s mom found the Atlanta Lice Ladies on the internet– they come to your house and treat your head and check everyone in the family with all natural stuff– which considering the bean in my belly and our little man– not to mention, no one should really be having chemical placed on their heads!- – it was a great find.  The lady gave us TONS of information, including the fact that head lice is the second most contagious/ rampant thing– second only to the common cold– and that this time of year, between all the travel, Santa’s beard, and hats, it’s everywhere!!  She gave us a special comb to use every 10 days for the rest of ever on his head– apparently, as long as kiddies are in school, they need checked constantly.  AND get this, it doesn’t start itching until it’s been on your head for WEEKS… because at that point the eggs have hatched and grown large enough to bite you- yup, exactly: EWWW, Gross!

She gave Gabe rules:  no telling secrets because of head to head contact, only give air hugs to his friends, don’t play the telephone game, don’t share hats, and he needs to wear mousse, everyday, all over his head– this provide a barrier and doesn’t let the nits (lice eggs) stick to your head.

After Gabe’s treatment and all of our checks, we loaded up to head home but I was STARVING– so I took our PJ-clad baby, Gabe, and myself by Five Guys for a quick burger– remember that our heads had been treated and combed and brushed through with a foam and a gel– we looked crazy– like grease monkey, with crunchy bad hair dos.  And I was so hungry that I scarfed down food will Max sucked ketchup off his fries and Gabe filled up his cherry coke like 16 times– the people there probably thought that we didn’t have a home and that we were eating for the first time in months.  Check them out:

And no, I didn’t capture any pictures of myself.  We also learned that they (the eggs) can’t live off the body for more than 48 hours– so since Gabe hasn’t been at our house in 48 hours when this happened and none of us had it, our house didn’t have any– PTL!!!  We got new combs just in case, washed his sheets and hats, just in case, and moved on with our lives….

But always nagging in the back of my mind was the fact that those bugs had been in our house for several weeks…. UNINVITED.  The Lice Ladies always do a follow up too, and although the Atlanta Ice of 2010 caused us to have to reschedule, we found out yesterday that the Gabester is 100% lice-free!!!  And now you can bet your bottom dollar that he has mousse on his head EVERY day!! (Which is great news for me, because it makes his curls curl-up even tighter, and they’re just adorable!)

 


TMI: You might be pregnant if

November 28, 2010

You Might Be Pregnant if:

1. Your favorite passtime is going #1

2. Going #2 is the hardest thing you do all day

3. You require a nap daily

4. When you arrive home, you rush in the door so you can put on sweat pants

5. You drink water like you may never be able to find another drop again

6. Every episode of The Bert Show on Q100, Grey’s and Private Practice makes you cry– but the normal cry stuff makes you merely shrug your shoulders

7. You go to bed by 9pm and fall fast asleep within .0675 seconds

8. You have teenage acne all over your 27 year old face

9. You think in terms of “weeks”

10. Being nauseous is a normal part of everyday– and you have to choose between eating really bad for you things that settle your stomach, or skipping the calories and the lbs and puking.


Bad decisions and TMI: More #2…

July 29, 2010

Yesterday, I potentially made my worst parenting mistake to date.  I took Max to the funeral.

I didn’t realize it right away, but Monday was a hard day for me and it shook me up quite a bit.  It was hard to come face to face with death and realize that it is a reality.  Dave, Katie’s dad, was the 2nd parent of my friends (MY AGE) to be buried this month.  That doubles the number of funerals I have been to my entire life!  The “scene” on Monday was very surreal and like a real-life episode of CSI.  I know there are people that encounter stuff like this all the time, but for me, it was new, and it really rocked my little world.

I’ve really struggled since then with worrying- about the men in my life- Chad, Max and Gabe, my brothers and my parents too- and anyone else I came in contact with that I could possibly worry about.  I’ve been a lot more sheepish about leaving Max- even just in his own room at night- and I keep waking to go in and check on him hourly.  Which brings me to the funeral- I “couldn’t” drive 60 miles south and leave Max at home- I just wanted him with me.  So I brought him.

But unfortunately, he acted JUST like an 11 month old- what was he thinking?  He wanted to crawl around and play and chat.  He squealed when I took something away that was making too much noise, and laughed and clapped when he was proud of himself, and he had no qualms about making noise.  We stood at the back of the service so I could still hear, yet let him crawl around, but he wasn’t quiet.  I had my stuff on the back pew and several people came in late and sat ON it.  So then I was stuck.  I was really torn about what to do- I wanted to hear and be a part of the service- I wanted to walk though this with Katie too, and be able to remember the Truth the was spoken into her heart at the funeral, so that I could repeat those words to her over the weeks and months to come.  But my child was disrupting everyone.  I took him out briefly and it calmed him down, but about 7 minutes after we came back in, he was at it again- being an 11 month old.

By this point, I was so flustered, embarrassed, and frustrated.  I could tell the service was almost over and the last thing we needed was for us to be standing at the back when the recessional happened- so I just snatched up Max and left.  By the time I got to the car, I was sweating and on the verge of tears.  I packed Max in the car, and started driving only to get caught in 5 o’clock traffic in downtown Atlanta.  By this point, Max was ready for some real mommy attention, and he was more than ready to be out of his seat.

My attitude wasn’t good.  I was mad at him. But every time I adjusted my mirror to look at him, and I saw his cute face, I melted.  And then he would start fussing again, causing the cycle to start all over again.

I tried processing what would’ve been the right thing to do- God, Chad, and Max are my priorities in life– but in this situation, Katie was too.  I was really stuggling with how to be a great mom and a great friend at the same time.  I was also feeling really selfish for bringing him, just because I didn’t want to leave- but after this crazy week, Max was really feeling Mommy-neglect, so I knew it was best for him to be with me too.  Just not at a funeral.

Almost 2 hours later, we were about a mile from our house when Max started pooping.  His face when he does this is classic– it’s like it so much work, even though what he’s working on isn’t exactly “firm”.  This got me laughing which was just what I needed.

After I parked the car, I got Max out, slung him on my hip, and began to gather all of our stuff.  All of a sudden a hear a big plop… then another.  I look down and there are BIG globs of poop on the garage floor.  I look at his car seat and there’s a ton there too.  I look at the baby, yep, affirmative, all down his legs… and lastly, I look at me, in my nice, dry clean only clothes, and yep, all over me as well.  As I stood there holding Max like a bomb that was about to blow, I couldn’t even think straight.  The child has impeccable timing.

Tears filled my eyes and I peeled his clothes off and took him straight in to the bath tub.  As I became more acquainted with the situation, I realized that it wasn’t the “quality” of the poop that was the problem- he wasn’t having stomach issues or anything– it was just the quantity.  It was like a 2 month back up made its appearance, right in the midst of my major frustration and pity party.  Really?? And he is VERY regular, so I’m really unsure as to where he was storing it!  Once I got myself cleaned up, I called Chad to warn him about the “chocolate surprises” in the garage.  Luckily, recounting the situation for him got me giggling a little.

He came in and hosed out the garage and I cleaned the child.  After the mess was cleaned up, I put Max in the living room to play so I could work on dinner and the laundry pile that was beginning to resemble Mt. Everest.  But immediately, Max started fussing.  I looked at Chad and said, “This is NOT my favorite day, I’m really frustrated and I think my head may pop off.”

He responded,singing in perfect tune, “Lean on me… when you’re not strong… I’ll be your friend, I’ll help you carry on….”

Oh thank goodness I married comic relief.  Again, I laughed.  And laughed some more.  And headed to the kitchen to conquer the night.

The child was relentless- fussing and squealing the rest of the night.  But it wasn’t until I was cleaning out his high chair after dinner that it hit me– I’ve been a bad mom this week.  I haven’t sat once to play with him, I haven’t sat down once to teach him something, I haven’t even been singing our good morning song when I get him out of his crib first thing or singing about body parts and animals on the farm as we drove.  Max was acting out because he needed my attention.  And I was frustrated because I didn’t have any attention to give him.

We did make it to bed time without my head popping off.  I tucked him in, with our normal routine, and shut his door, expecting not to hear from him again until the morning- which is his norm.  But immediately, he started screaming.  As in bloody murder.  Chad and I looked at each other with eyebrows raised and I went back in.  He was standing at the edge of his bed with his arms out towards me.  I picked him up and cuddled him into my chest and immediately he fell asleep.  I stood there for a few more minutes, thinking about the work I needed to do and get to my boss, and again, feeling frustrated.  I laid him down in his bed, and again, SCREAMING!

So I picked him up, cuddled him in, and he went right back to catching some zzzz’s. I sat down in the rocking chair and rocked and rocked and rocked… and before long there were tears rolling down my cheeks.  But I wasn’t mad this time, or overwhelmed and flustered– I was crying because it took the 11 month old to remind me that this was what life was about- tasks could wait- but it’s the people all around me that God has called me to– and cuddling up my favorite little baby in the whole entire world was the ONLY thing I needed to be doing right then.

My heart melted, and all of a sudden, I was very content with where God has me right now- I can be a mom and friend at the same time, because He called me to both.  Thank you God for using the little things (both literally and figuratively) to remind me how precious life is!


TMI: Peeing on the floor

July 23, 2010

Good morning…. it is a good morning here at the Bowman house… Max slept until 8:45 and Gabe is still sleeping!  This is a MAJOR accomplishment!  I’ve cooked, cleaned, worked, and emailed already!

Anyway, Gabe slept in Max’s room last night in the extra bed because my brother spent the night.  So when Max woke up this morning, at the first noise, I ran in there and grabbed him and a new diaper and brought him downstairs before he could wake up Gabe.  I got his old diaper off, but my Max, he LOVES to be naked, so he did not want a new one to replace it.  If he was a few years older, I’d be worried, but he loves crawling naked, dancing naked, and playing naked.  He’s adorable and he knows it!  You should just see those butt dimples!

So this morning, he talked me into letting him go naked.  After the diaper removal, I walked into the kitchen to get my phone.  Then… I came around the corner to find Max standing at the couch, peeing, standing up, like a grown man and so PROUD.  And it was with such force that there was psssss noise! I did get an in-action picture, but I don’t want to be flagged as “dirty” so you’ll have to settle for the after-picture.

And don’t worry, I did scrub it with that pet carpet cleaner, so we are disinfected and germ free.  But it DID crack me up.


TMI: The Poop Edition!

May 29, 2010

Yesterday, I was sitting at my computer working while Max was supposed to be sleeping.  But he just kept talking and talking and eventually got pretty fussy and I decided that since this was out of character I would go check on him and maybe even rock him for a bit.

Side note:  Max is an all-star pooper- he poops in the morning and mid-day.  It’s always just the right amount and it’s like clock work.  We’ve never had messes or explosions or any of that nonsense.  Our only “event” is when he was 6 days old and I changed his diaper, lifted back his legs, and the runny newborn poop shot out like a water hose.  My mother-in-law rushed in to save the day and had the floor, the changing table, and his crib (which all got hit by the spew) cleaned before I had even finished changing Max.

Do you see where this might be going?

So back to yesterday… I scooped him out of his bed and noticed this:

The clue that something was amiss

And I thought to myself, well that’s funny, and I shifted Max to my other hip to check it out a little closer… and when I did, my hand was gooey.  Why yes, I did have poop ALL over my hand.

Ok, because I am immature and inexperienced, I panicked.  I had NO idea what to do.  I didn’t want to put him down anywhere, but I didn’t want to hold him either– so I toted him by his arm pits, while trying to pull his clothes off him, to the bath tub.  He was laughing hysterically and thought this was a game.

No Max, this is not a game, this is a CRISIS!

So proud!

Once I finally got him undressed, I was stumped once again.  Do make him a bath because that means he’d be splashing IN his poop.  But how else do I get him clean?  And what about his outfit that has poop all over the inside and the outside?

Yes, that is what you think it is...

At this point I remember a friend’s kid who got really sick- like a horrible virus that lasted for days– because he somehow got feces in his mouth.  So I wiped him down with baby wipes, then put him in the tube and wash him off.  I get out a new towel, wrap him up and lay him on the floor while I run to his room to get hand sanitizer so that I can rub it all over his body.  No, I don’t usually rub hand sanitizer all over my baby, but I could think of nothing else, short of steaming hot water and clorox to ease my mind about the nastiness.

Apparently, while I’m grabbing the bottle, he pees all over the rug that he was laying on because when I got back and sat down to sanitize the baby, I got pee all over my butt.  Yes, I managed to sit right on his pee-puddle.

Clean baby/ Murky water = disgusting!

After sanitizing the baby and changing my shorts, I rinsed out his clothes– there were chunks and a severe gag reflex involved in this part of the crisis.  Then I headed to his room- aka The Disaster Zone.  I removed his bumper, his sheets and his mattress pad, wiped down the whole bed with lysol disinfecting spray, and then fixed everything back up.

Remnants of the crisis:

The Disaster Zone

The Bathroom

Meanwhile, Max leisurely enjoyed his afternoon bottle.

"What's the problem, Mom?"

Just that morning I had had an email conversation with my mom about how Max was old enough to necessitate a stuffed animal or two in his crib, as he does lay in there and talk for about 10 minutes before each nap.  So of course he also pooped on his new friends, lion and dog.  They, too, were added to the laundry.

So let’s summarize:  Max exploded and I had to wash him, sanitize him, wash the bathtub, disinfect the bathtub, launder the towels, the rugs, his clothes, and everything he touched, change the sheets and mattress pad on his bed, and then clorox his whole room.

I took a picture of  myself when it was all over, because I was sweaty and nasty and I wanted to use it as blackmail when Max gets old enough to be embarassed by this- but the picture was much too horrible to even acknowledge it’s existence.  So the story in itself will have to be enough.

Are you grossed out?  I am!  But this is blog-worthy because I must make note of this so that when Max thinks he’s too cool for me and he wants me to leave him alone and drop him off at the corner because I embarrass him, etc… I’ll be able to show him all the many things I went through for him and he’ll have to love me.

I wish I was spiritual enough to have a good attitude about it while it was happening- I mean Jesus loves us and we make way bigger messes- but as soon as I got pooh on my hands, it was all downhill.  Parenting does indeed build character, and a tough stomach!