Drug Rash

Here's what it looks like when your child

has a nice, big drug rash

(this is his reaction to amoxicillin, not his current antibiotic):

It looks terrible, but it didn't seem to bother him.

A Day in the Life

As I've thought about what to write today, I'm struck by what a whirlwind today was. Yet much of it was just run-of-the-mill, what-happens-when-you're-a-mom stuff. Here's how it went:

2:30 a.m.: Bub wakes up. Up until 3:30 a.m.

4 a.m.: Bub wakes up again. Up until 4:45 a.m.

5 a.m.: I get up to shower.
Bub wakes up.
Hubby takes him to bed with him, but Bub is wide awake.

5:15 a.m.: Get Bub from hubby.

5:30 a.m.: Feed Bub.

6:30 a.m.: Pick up Bub from floor and realize he's had a blowout.
Take off Bub's clothes.
Manage to get poop on Bub's calf, shoulder and head. Yes, head.

6:40 a.m.: Give Bub a bath.

6:50 a.m.: Rock Bub to sleep (Bub is tired from waking up so early).

7:30 a.m.: Drop Bub off at daycare.

8:00 a.m.: Work. Work, work, work.

4 p.m.: Get report from hubby that Bub, who has bronchitis, has now started wheezing.

4:45 p.m.: Arrive home.

5:30 p.m.: Feed Bub.
Realize that, yes, he does have a nice wheeze.

6:15 p.m.: Take Bub in to Urgent Care.
Hold nebulizer for Bub.
Hold Bub's arms while his chest is being x-rayed.

7:40 p.m.: Wait at pharmacy for Bub's antibiotic.

8 p.m.: Arrive home.
Get Bub ready for bed.
Feed Bub.

8:30 p.m.: Hand Bub over to hubby.
Scrounge together a dinner of yogurt, cereal bar, and pudding cup.

9 p.m.: Brown hamburger and fry bacon in preparation for tomorrow's farewell potluck for 2 former coworkers.

9:50 p.m.: Bub wakes up.
Comfort him back to sleep.

10 p.m.: Blog.

10:15 p.m.: Fall into bed exhausted. Good night!

The Highchair Debacle of 2009

I waited a long time to order a highchair for Bub. I waited a little too long, really. But I finally did it. And then it never came. I started to wonder where it was.

.

I checked my order online, and realized that it had been sent to my old apartment address. Target still had the old address in their system, and I hadn't noticed.

.

I realized I could track the order through UPS, and I found out that the highchair had been signed for by my old next door neighbor, an elderly woman.

.

I looked her up in the phone book, and gave her a call.

The conversation went something like this:

.

Me: Hello? Irene?

.

Irene: Hello?

.
Me: Hi! I used to live across the hall from you, and I recently accidentally sent a highchair to my old address and I think you signed for it...
.
Irene: *grumbling* I can't hear you.
.
Me: I SENT A HIGHCHAIR TO THE WRONG ADDRESS AND I THINK YOU SIGNED FOR IT?
.
Irene: What?
.
Me: DID YOU SIGN FOR A HIGHCHAIR?
.
Irene: Oh, yes. I signed for a highchair.
.
Me: DO YOU STILL HAVE IT?
.
Irene: No, I gave it to the man across the hall. It was a highchair.
..
Me: YES. IT WAS MY HIGHCHAIR. I SENT IT TO THE WRONG ADDRESS.
.
Irene: Well, I thought it was strange, since he's just a single guy. And he doesn't have a woman living there. He did look sort of puzzled when I gave it to him.
.
Me: DO YOU HAPPEN TO KNOW HIS LAST NAME?
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Irene: No, I don't.
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Me: Hmmm...
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Irene: I could leave a note on his door for you. What should I write?
.
So that is what we did. My old neighbor very kindly left a note on the highchair holder's door. I left him my phone number and waited for a call.
.
But five days went by, and no one called. I fully expected to hear from him. I believe that most people would do the right thing and try to return the highchair to its rightful owner. But after five days, I was no longer believing in the goodness of other people. What did he want with the highchair, anyway? Did he know someone he wanted to give it to? Was he going to try to sell it? Did he throw it in the dumpster?
.
Keep in mind, Bub was still having to eat his meals in this:
.
Which is fine. For now. Except he's outgrowing it.
.
Anyway, five days later, I decided to try to track down the highchair. I loaded up Bub and we went to my old apartment building. We went to my old apartment and knocked. And knocked. And knocked.
.
No answer.
.
I left another note on the door.
.
I realized that in the entryway, the phone number of the resident manager was listed. At this point, I was desperate. I thought I was going to have to order another highchair.
.
I called the manager and tried to enlist her help. She said that the man who lives in that apartment works several jobs and isn't there much, but that she'd try to get the highchair so I could pick it up from her.
.
Finally, I made some headway!
.
But that was six days ago.
.
I finally got a call from the manager tonight that she has the highchair. I'm going to pick it up tomorrow. A full 20 days after it shipped!

Bathtime

Here's what Bub looks like when he's waiting for me to get his bath ready. I just love this time of day. Even if he's been crabby, he perks up waiting for his bath. I think he knows it's coming. I just love the sight of a chubby baby in just a diaper.

Picture by Hubby

Here's what kind of pictures get taken when Bub and Daddy are home alone,

and Mommy is working: Bub. On the couch. Watching television.

Bub's Favorite Things: The Exersaucer

Here's Bub with one of his favorite toys: the exersaucer. It's highly convenient for times when I need to keep him occupied and contained, like when I'm making supper.

Playtime

Bub gets playtime with Daddy:

.

What's that? . My house is messy? . *puts fingers in ears*

I can't hear you!! . I don't know what you're talking about.

.

Anyway, back to the story.

.

As I said, Bub gets playtime with Daddy when he gets home from work:

.

And playtime with Mommy:
.
And he hugs Mama...

.
...and leaves drool on my shirt. But I don't mind.
Cause I'm his mama.

Learning to Sit

Bub is learning to sit. He does it pretty well.

But, sometimes, he ends up like this:
Mama? A little help, please?

Eating

Bub didn't like solid food when he started eating it. Dinnertime often resulted in faces like this:

And sometimes involved blowing raspberries:

.

.

But now, he's a happy little eater.

And sometimes, he even does his dinnertime chair dance:

Well, usually it's more like back, forth, back, forth, back, forth...but this was all I could get him to do for the camera.

Bub

FYI, Prairie Baby will hereafter be referred to as Bub. Bub = Baby. Baby = Bub.

Happy Valentine's Day!

Today, I'm thinking about my sweet hubby, and how we went from dating... ...to married...

...to family.

Happy Valentine's day to my big and little Valentines.

You boys make my world go round.