I am not ashamed to admit it. I think it goes back to my days of singledom - buying something for my place - without a care of whether someone else will like it (keep it clean, keep it picked up, etc, etc, etc.) or not.
With that said....
I have a cute rectangular wicker basket that sits atop the toilet in the guest bathroom. In said basket are several crisp white hand towels and washcloths. All neat and tidy, tucked away.
I call them my "Don't-Touch-Towels." They are there for aesthetics. That's right - no purpose whatsoever other than to look pretty.
I also have a towel tray that holds a hand towel (der) directly next to the sink - this I expect guests to use. NOT the "Don't-Touch-Towels!"
I don't understand how these are the first grabbed at by guests after washing up.
I have even had someone use one of the "Don't-Touch-Towels" when apparently I had run out of toilet paper!!!! That's right, it was completely soaked (but rung out) and folded in half, hanging over the sink. The culprit even informed me that it was "okay" because they just went "#1"
Wha? Huh?!?!
Am I alone out here????
You better "drip dry" sister!
"Don't-Touch-Towels" are just that - "Don't-Touch-Towels!!!"
(ok. I'm done.)
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Tourette's syndrome... and a feather stroke
oh boy.
where to begin?
Probably by first stating that I looove my husband. He is one of the best things that has ever happened to me. I am extremely grateful to have him and am so blessed with him in my life.
And back to the title of this blog:
so... i fear that J may one day suddenly develop signs of Tourette's syndrome - not any physical tics - just the vocal ones; what most people often associate with Tourette's - the exclamation of obscene words.
"Why?" you ask.
Because she may spring up some suppressed infantile memory of her mother and the beginning weeks of breast feeding...
I could have put any sailor to shame with the language that rolled off my tongue.
I would ask friends and family... "Just when exactly should the pain go away?"
Every answer was different but the longest period of time I got was - four weeks.
So, I waited... and those four weeks crept by. And then six weeks... and still the pain... or as I like to refer to it as the perfect torture.
More specifically... I would tell people that learning to breastfeeding would be the perfect wartime torture. (I suspect the government may already be using this tactic... if not, they should be, it would make a captive reveal any secret.)
Imagine having your arms tied at your sides and being blindfold. You have no shirt on and you are sitting in a chair. A large starved rat is then placed at your nipple. This rat gnaws and nibbles while you are in inconsolable pain. Tears are streaming down your face and sweat beads are rolling down your brow. And no curse word in the world - ones you've heard or ones you are cleverly making up - will do the trick to make those tiny little teeth subside their "eating" of your flesh! Now that you are about to pass out and just may have done so, the rat is removed... but then placed on your other nipple! After about 20-30 minutes of enduring this torture you are untied, allowed to go back to a normal breathing rhythm and life resumes as you know it - just long enough to let your tender, cracked, red, possibly bleeding nipples heal.... And then they find you and you do it all over again.
But in real life, the torture continues... every 2 hours to be exact. For weeks.
A quote from one of my favorite movies:
"A Christmas Story"
Ralphie: In the heat of battle my father wove a tapestry of obscenities that as far as we know is still hanging in space over Lake Michigan.
where to begin?
Probably by first stating that I looove my husband. He is one of the best things that has ever happened to me. I am extremely grateful to have him and am so blessed with him in my life.
And back to the title of this blog:
so... i fear that J may one day suddenly develop signs of Tourette's syndrome - not any physical tics - just the vocal ones; what most people often associate with Tourette's - the exclamation of obscene words.
"Why?" you ask.
Because she may spring up some suppressed infantile memory of her mother and the beginning weeks of breast feeding...
I could have put any sailor to shame with the language that rolled off my tongue.
I would ask friends and family... "Just when exactly should the pain go away?"
Every answer was different but the longest period of time I got was - four weeks.
So, I waited... and those four weeks crept by. And then six weeks... and still the pain... or as I like to refer to it as the perfect torture.
More specifically... I would tell people that learning to breastfeeding would be the perfect wartime torture. (I suspect the government may already be using this tactic... if not, they should be, it would make a captive reveal any secret.)
Imagine having your arms tied at your sides and being blindfold. You have no shirt on and you are sitting in a chair. A large starved rat is then placed at your nipple. This rat gnaws and nibbles while you are in inconsolable pain. Tears are streaming down your face and sweat beads are rolling down your brow. And no curse word in the world - ones you've heard or ones you are cleverly making up - will do the trick to make those tiny little teeth subside their "eating" of your flesh! Now that you are about to pass out and just may have done so, the rat is removed... but then placed on your other nipple! After about 20-30 minutes of enduring this torture you are untied, allowed to go back to a normal breathing rhythm and life resumes as you know it - just long enough to let your tender, cracked, red, possibly bleeding nipples heal.... And then they find you and you do it all over again.
But in real life, the torture continues... every 2 hours to be exact. For weeks.
My sister was a godsend during this learning experience. She was quite the master of diversions - a mug of ice cold water with a straw, gently soothing my "birds nest" hair and softly hushing "shhh's" in my ear; telling me to breathe. The best thing was the feather stroke. This is a light touch done with the fingertips... skimming up and down my arms, neck, shoulders and back. It will give you goosebumps and a slight chill - which is heaven when you feel your body temperature rising to a degree of pain that you are certain could make your head pop right off.
Once my sister and her family returned to their home, my loving husband adoringly took her place and continued to console me during these times of "torture." However, B had no where near "mastered" the feather stroke. My husband was deathly afraid of me during this phase - from the corner of my eye I could see his face... white, shocked, scared (his jaw slightly dropped and eyes open wide.) I'm sure he thought he was witnessing an exorcism. 
It would be time to feed the baby again... and B would mimic what he saw my sister repeatedly do - yet slightly different. His very large , very heavy, very hot hands would touch every square inch of my arms, neck, shoulders, etc. His fingers curled like a cat about to pounce. And I would close my eyes, attempt to drink that cold water (while still making sailors blush with my foul mouth) and I would violently thrust my shoulder back at him in attack.
"FEATHER STROKE!" I would whine.
"THAT'S WHAT I'M DOING," he would protest.
"No. No. No. NO. You are using all your body weight. It's supposed to be light. LIKE A FEATHER! And you're not supposed to touch every square inch of skin!"
Very confused he asks, "Can't I just use a feather then?!?!"
... huh? wa? huh?!?! what?!?!?
I wanted to scream, "YES HONEY! YES! USE A FEATHER! GO ON OUT AND FIND A FEATHER AND THEN COME BACK AND USE IT! SURE! THAT WILL BE MUUUUCH EASIER."
lol. Poor, poor man.
He was so patient.
sigh.
Praise God that after about nine, maybe ten weeks, the feedings got easier and easier (pain free!) and my language cleaned up.
Now I pray Jeorgia was toooooo consumed with all that warm milk to have payed any attention to mommy's potty mouth... it certainly didn't prevent her from stuffing her face.
A quote from one of my favorite movies:
"A Christmas Story"
Ralphie: In the heat of battle my father wove a tapestry of obscenities that as far as we know is still hanging in space over Lake Michigan.
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Daddy dresses baby...
O i absolutely loooove this.
It is too cute.
I work on Saturdays. This day is also known as "Daddy & Jeorgia" day at our house.
Upon my return from work one Saturday, I was absolutely delighted to see the interesting ensemble daddy chose for his baby girl.
1 Cherry pink "Rolling Stones" onsie. Check.
1 White pajama pants with pink and yellow stripes. Check.
1 pair of Pink leopard spotted socks. Check.
Several pictures to provide entertainment in the years to come. Check.
1 daddy that loves spending time with his baby. Check.
1 mommy that adores that. Check.
(and yes, we took her out in public) :)
Stank
Watching an episode of "The Office" tonight reminded me of a funny story:
One night, surrounded by our dogs, Blake was busy studying and I was just relaxing and reading. I had remembered a stupid (but amusing) joke I had heard at work and decided to give it a try on B.
Without looking up from my book, I squinted up my face and said, "Whew. It smells like updog in here."
He looked over at me, confused, but just dismissed my comment and said nothing in response.
About 10 minutes later I let out a little whiff and casually muttered while glancing over the dogs, (and still not making eye contact) "Hmm. It really smells like updog."
He stops studying and squints... (I am trying my best to be uninterested and continue to not look at him) he looks a me, eyes big, brow furrowed, mouth formed to utter, "Huh?"
But I ignore... and pretend to be absolutely indulged in my reading.
This works. He goes back to studying after surveying the room... still unsure as to what I am talking about.
Finally about five more minutes go by and I can no longer hold my "disgust" in and ask him, "Do you smell that?" Adding, "It really smells like updog in here."
His reply....
"What's up dog?"
I smile and say, "Not much. What's up with you?"
We both burst out laughing.
Thursday, November 6, 2008
i'll pick this one...
i am shamelessly obsessed with j's boogers. I can't stand them. And when I see one I HAVE to get it. It is to the point where I will use a bobby pin (i know, i KNOW) to get it if necessary.
so, tonight, while feeding j, I am able to get this sucker without any tools and she is so consumed with eating that she doesn't make a big fuss that I decide to be a jokester.
I tightly pinch that boogie between my index finger and thumb and make a weird squinty face to the hubby and say, "Hmmmm.... weird. What is that?"
He then retrieves the "mystery" item tightly squeezed between my fingers and....
is squinting....
studies it...
and then a look of clarity consumes his face and then...
disgust.
(All the while I have a big smile on my face.)
"Jaaaaaaaaack!" he whines. "That's nasty."
It was very amusing.
And that folks, is how i get my kicks these days...
so, tonight, while feeding j, I am able to get this sucker without any tools and she is so consumed with eating that she doesn't make a big fuss that I decide to be a jokester.
I tightly pinch that boogie between my index finger and thumb and make a weird squinty face to the hubby and say, "Hmmmm.... weird. What is that?"
He then retrieves the "mystery" item tightly squeezed between my fingers and....
is squinting....
studies it...
and then a look of clarity consumes his face and then...
disgust.
(All the while I have a big smile on my face.)
"Jaaaaaaaaack!" he whines. "That's nasty."
It was very amusing.
And that folks, is how i get my kicks these days...
Thursday, October 23, 2008
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
giddyup!
So, i woke up tuesday at 1 am not feeling too grand, just kinda achy and tummy hurting but managed to get back to sleep...until about 3:30 and i'm trying to quietly throw up while the hubby is sleeping, but after about 30 minutes I was unsuccessful and he gets up to check on me.
I settle back in bed (after brushing my teeth) and I am peaceful until 5:30 when I am offering the trash can everything i've had to eat for all my 29 years of life.
Hubby then leaves to walmart to get supplies (crackers, soup and gatorade) when the "sickness" hits him while at the store and he is rushing to get home.
So now we are both sick. Ugh.
We manage to get some more sleep after some strategic planning with jeorgia. I swear, the first time she ever slept through the night around 8 weeks old, I told her we were going to buy her a pony. And after the sweet little angel she was yesterday.... she's getting ANOTHER one. A boy and a girl. And they can have all the little ponies she wants. We'll have a pony farm...
She was pretty quiet in the morning, but nothing too out-of-sorts, just playing with her toys and then back down for a nap. But by late morning she was really sluggish and just would fall asleep off and on with me holding her.
And then the puke-fest began. That was the saddest sight... poor little j... seriously doing some damage to her jammies, mommy's clothes, towels, burp cloths & blankies (thank goodness they were covering the couch - planned out in advance.) She just sat there, not a sound. I felt so horrible for her.
The day was left with call-in's to work, several bouts of running to the bathroom, glasses of gatorade, medication, soup, crackers, naps, thermometers, moans of pain... and a 20 week old baby that smiled through it all.
I looooooove this kid.
I settle back in bed (after brushing my teeth) and I am peaceful until 5:30 when I am offering the trash can everything i've had to eat for all my 29 years of life.
Hubby then leaves to walmart to get supplies (crackers, soup and gatorade) when the "sickness" hits him while at the store and he is rushing to get home.
So now we are both sick. Ugh.
We manage to get some more sleep after some strategic planning with jeorgia. I swear, the first time she ever slept through the night around 8 weeks old, I told her we were going to buy her a pony. And after the sweet little angel she was yesterday.... she's getting ANOTHER one. A boy and a girl. And they can have all the little ponies she wants. We'll have a pony farm...
She was pretty quiet in the morning, but nothing too out-of-sorts, just playing with her toys and then back down for a nap. But by late morning she was really sluggish and just would fall asleep off and on with me holding her.
And then the puke-fest began. That was the saddest sight... poor little j... seriously doing some damage to her jammies, mommy's clothes, towels, burp cloths & blankies (thank goodness they were covering the couch - planned out in advance.) She just sat there, not a sound. I felt so horrible for her.
The day was left with call-in's to work, several bouts of running to the bathroom, glasses of gatorade, medication, soup, crackers, naps, thermometers, moans of pain... and a 20 week old baby that smiled through it all.
I looooooove this kid.
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