Our Sweet Sarah Beth

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Darling Little Debbie

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Tuesday, August 30, 2011

Because they just come to me in the middle of the night

Here's another haiku:

Loud baby screaming
Awake in the dead of night
I need some earplugs

EDITED to add:

SB had a rough bout with a stomach virus last night; I've been praying that I feel so awful because I was up with her every 15 minutes during the night and not because I'm getting it too. I prayed first that Annie wouldn't get it, then that Jack wouldn't get it, then that I wouldn't get it. I just checked on Annie in her swing to see her covered in something.

Please don't be throw up
Did someone spill curdled milk?
I need a nanny

Monday, August 29, 2011

Be sure that your sins will find you out

SB learned a valuable lesson today. Is still learning, I should say. I'm blogging from her bedroom, seated on the floor next to her bed on puke patrol. If you are weak of stomach, you may not want to read all of this story.

Earlier today, SB got a bag of dried mixed fruit (cranberries, raspberries, etc) and asked me if she could have some while opening the bag. I told her to wait and that I would get some for her soon. She started to whine and beg; again I told her to just wait a few minutes until I was done feeding Annie, then she could have some. I looked up a minute later to see her with a handful of dried fruit poised above her open mouth.

I was enraged. I yelled "NO!" and she dropped the fruit that had been halfway in her mouth back into the bag. GROSS. I tried to spank her while I was nursing, but that didn't go to well. So I sent her to her room and told her that Daddy would spank her when he got home.

He did, and even though he only popped her once, he connected with a force. I could tell it was an effective punishment. After they hugged it out and discussed once more why she had gotten a spanking, I made it clear that she wasn't allowed to have any of those berries. Later on in the afternoon, SB told me that her tummy was hurting. We cuddled on the couch with bunny until SB got up and wandered out of the room.

This is where you change the channel if you don't like puke stories.

We heard a SPLAT coming from the kitchen, and sure enough, her tummy had been hurting. The contents of her stomach were now splayed across the kitchen floor, and from the looks of it, SB had ingested quite a bit of berries shortly before throwing up. When confronted, SB insisted that she hadn't eaten any, although the proof was in the pudding, if you will. We didn't force the issue, because in my opinion, throwing up is punishment enough.

After about 2 hours of throwing up, SB commented, "I guess I shouldn't have eaten those berries after all." It's nearly 11 pm now, and she is still heaving about every 10-20 minutes, even though there's nothing left inside. My poor little girl has certainly suffered enough for the berry betrayal. I hope we are done for the night so she can get some sleep and some much needed fluids!

Friday, August 26, 2011

To the person who owns the dog that poops in my yard every day

HAIKU:

Poop is on my shoe
Why didn't you clean it up
Karma's a bizzle

Claire is currently the only contender for the mystery prize. An excellent entry; however, KC slander will not garner any points on this blog. I'll allow 2 more days for any takers.

And if you really can't handle the who I want to meet, just give me the superpower part.

Mystery blog giveaway

I saw something today. I saw it, and I knew I had to buy it. I had no idea at the time who would be the lucky recipient of such an item, but it didn't matter. It had to come home with me. I've been pondering 2 things ever since:
1. which of my friends would enjoy this the most? And
2. why didn't I buy more of these?

I didn't buy more because I wasn't at dollar tree, and let's face it, times is tough. The first question, however, remains unanswered. That's where you come in.

To enter for a chance to win the mystery item, leave a comment telling me one person you wish you could meet, what you would ask them and why. Feel free to elaborate beyond these parameters. Before you start rolling your eyes at how lame that is, hear me out. This is not your typical wanna meet Sanjaya and ask him who inspires him.

Let's set a few ground rules. No obvious answers; creativity is 75% of your grade. We all wish we could meet Jesus and ask Him for a superpower. Mine would be the power to shoot lightning bolts out of my fingers. Because that would be awesome. Don't tick me off; I'll shoot you with my lightning bolts.

And we would all like to meet the President and ask him to please try not to look so arrogant all the time. Seriously. Wipe that smirk off your face. It's annoying. America resents you.

I think now that I might also like to know what your superpower would be if you could have one. So feel free to throw that in there at the end. Not mandatory.

So get creative out there. This thing ends whenever I say it does.

To be fair, I will submit the first entry as an example. And just so you know, while a famous person is an acceptable submission, you don't necessarily have to go that route. Case in point:

I would like to meet the person who owns the dog who keeps leaving giant piles of nasty on my front lawn. I would ask them why they thought it was ok to let their disgusting animal leave a giant pile of nasty  right where my 3 year old daughter and I walk every day. I would ask them if they knew how many times either she or I had stepped in the nasty and soiled a pair of shoes. Then I would hand them a bill for the following services:

Shoe cleaning
Poopy scooping
Carpet cleaning from where SB stepped in the nasty and then climbed into the car or went inside the house
Pain and suffering.

Then I would tell them that until they paid, I would be using their lawn/sidewalk to recycle the contents of Annie's diapers. If they couldn't come up with the money, I would give them the option to stand beside the highway all day wearing a sandwich board that said,

"I let my dog poop in other people's yards and don't bother to clean it up. Please throw rotten eggs at me so I smell like my victims smelled when they stepped in my dog's nasty. I deserve worse. Also, please don't text and drive."

Wednesday, August 24, 2011

Take the money and run

Today I asked SB to please clean her room. She said no thanks. I had work to do, and I hadn't really intended for the request to be optional. So I rephrased. "SB, you will clean your room today."

She disappeared into her room for a while, and I could hear her cd player blaring Tom Petty over the sounds of Annie not napping in her crib. A lovely soundtrack by which to work.

SB came in a few minutes later, excitedly proclaiming, "Mom, look! I found Wallflowers!" (Tom Petty's second album and one of SB's faves) I hadn't known it was lost, but I told her how happy I was that she had found it.

Me: "Wow, that's great! Did you find that while you were cleaning your room?"
SB: "Well, I don't really want to clean my room. Can we play baby instead?"
Me: "I have to finish this work for Daddy, and we aren't playing anything until your room is clean."
SB: "I can't clean it right now." She flopped down into her chair. "My back is really hurting and I can't bend over.

I rolled my eyes and sent her back to her room.

She went back to her room, but the wheels were already spinning, and I knew it wouldn't be long before she was back with another excuse. I was right. This time she was in a princess dress with a tutu on top. She was carrying a balloon and a dollar bill.

SB: "Here, Mom. I got you a present!" She thrust the bill in between my face and the computer screen, waving it frantically. "Just take the money, Mom. Please, just take it."

I grabbed it and said thank you very much, but have you cleaned your room yet?

SB: "Mom, I have a surprise for you. You want it??"
Me: "Is it a balloon?"
SB: "I'll give you the surprise, but then I don't have to clean my room. Does that sound like a plan?"
Me: "No thanks. You still have to clean your room."
SB: "Are you suuuuure you don't want the surprise? It's a really good one."

Who taught this kid how to negotiate anyway? Just yesterday she was trying to convince her friend to play with another toy so SB wouldn't have to share the one she was playing with. I overheard her saying, "Nita, isn't that a great dollhouse over there? I bet you would just LOVE to play with it." When Nita continued to quietly share the dollhouse that SB was playing with, SB decided no more Mr. Nice Guy. "Nita, here's the thing... I don't want to share with you, so..... can you please play over there?"

SB has been in and out of her room, which is still not clean yet. In fact, she has managed to disorganize the living room that I just straightened. Blankets, crayons, coloring books strewn about... I can hear her keyboard blasting a beat in her room. No doubt she is practicing her pirouettes back there. But I do also hear loud thumping noises - an indication that she is throwing her toys across the room into her toy box. And an indicator as to why Annie is still screaming back there instead of sleeping.

Saturday, August 20, 2011

It was the best of times; it was the worst of times

Don't you just love your birthday? I know I do. I recently had one; thanks for remembering. It's always the very best day of the year. Promptly followed by the worst day of the year, when nobody cares that you're one year older. One day, everything is great, the day is all about you and what you want. Attention, presents, phone calls and texts. What's not to love, right?

But the next day, the party is over, you go back to being just like everyone else, and everybody forgets how great they thought you were just hours earlier. That's why I do not like to go to sleep on my birthday. Because I know when I wake up, the magic is gone.

I like to make the most of the day. Since Jack was working, I slept in until Annie woke me. She insisted on being fed first. So selfish, I know. I skipped my morning meeting with the elliptical machine because everyone knows that birthday calories don't count.

Later, the girls and I had lunch with my parents and enjoyed a long skyped conversation with Meredith and Madeleine. I kept trying to get little M to say my name, but all she would say was "pampers." Her new favorite word. I wasn't too offended. I knew she really meant "happy birthday Aunt Emily."

Jack came home with an impressive bouquet of flowers and poured me a birthday sized glass of cabernet. He somehow knew just what I wanted.

We had dinner with Jack's grandparents and uncle. Jack's grandfather was celebrating his 80th birthday the same day, but he was kind enough to share some of his octogenarian birthday glory with me. And Jack's grandmother even got my favorite kind of cake. Caramel. It was delightful.

When we got home, we still had 2 hours of birthday left, and I was determined not to let the day end until I passed out from birthday exhaustion. (exhaustion / wine, toMAto / toMAHto)

Jack was putting SB to bed while I got Annie down. Annie turned out to be slightly more difficult, but that's another post in itself. After I had freed myself from Annie's grasp, I decided that Jack and I would round out the day with Mad Men, one of our new favorite shows. Then I found poor Jack asleep next to SB. In a selfless act of birthday kindness, I let a sleeping Jack lie.

I didn't even pout the next day, as Jack is well aware of my post birthday depression syndrome. But he was well prepared, and when I woke up, he announced that this year, the day after my birthday would also be my birthday.

What a wonderful idea! I celebrated with a piece of caramel cake for breakfast. By the way, my weight loss plan has been going great. A few days ago, I noticed that I was down to my pre pregnancy weight. I'm pretty sure that during my 48 hour birthday, I regained most of what I lost. Someone needs to remind my scale about birthday calories.

We celebrated again that night by having dinner with friends and more caramel cake. The perfect end to a perfect birthday(s).

I have a sitter coming today to keep the girls while I go to a baby shower.To combat the post birthday depression, I'm seriously contemplating dropping off a present, grabbing a latte from Starbucks and enjoying it while having a mani/pedi.

Don't laugh. PBDS is a very serious condition. I'm in a fragile state and must take care of myself today. I wonder how long my babysitter can stay. Maybe even a little shopping would be good for me. And of course, some caramel cake.