Today my friend R stopped by and invited me to go eagle watching with her.
We drove out to the reservoir and hiked to the shoreline, from which we were able to see six immature bald eagles hanging out on the ice, while mama or papa eagle perched in a tree on the far shore, watching over them.
What an incredible privilege it is to be able to see such amazing creatures!
Too bad Kev missed it, but he wanted to stay home with Mikro and attempt to clean the house a bit...
I took some pictures, which I need to drop off at the lab for developing, but they are from so far away, the birds are probably just microdots... Still, its amazing to be able to see this kind of thing only an hour away from New York City!
So far the dog seems aq bit better today.. my fingers are crossed that whatever got her intestines in an uproar is out of her system...
Sometimes art is a sanity saving device...
Saturday, February 28, 2004
Friday, February 27, 2004
Dog Tired
Why does my German Shepherd decide to run across the entire house while spraying diarrhea in every conceivable direction?
She's tall, so it sparayed onto lots of low lying objects, not just the floor.
As in, she pooped in my husband's camera bag. Eeeew!
My friend R was here when, as my husband charmingly puts it, the dog's ass exploded, so at least there was someone here to handle the babe while I made busy with the mop and towels.
Finally got rid of the odor with bleach.
Oh, the horror.
Big Dog is currently out in the dog run, where she can run the Excremental 100 Yard Dash to her heart's content.
I dread letting her in for the night.
All of this insanity occured while I was on the phone with my lawyer. Joy.
Boy has two teeth coming in-- the ones immediately surrounding his two front top teeth. He's cranky as hell, and biting me for amusement value. He actually broke the skin on my hand. Thankfully, he seems to know better than to bite the boobs that feed him, but apparently my limbs are fair game... He walks the length of the couch, nipping me from the shoulder to the toes. Ouch. My back is holy living hell, so I am trying to lie flat as much as possible, which just provides Mr. Chomper with an easy target!
Anyway, the boy is snarking, so I better go.
She's tall, so it sparayed onto lots of low lying objects, not just the floor.
As in, she pooped in my husband's camera bag. Eeeew!
My friend R was here when, as my husband charmingly puts it, the dog's ass exploded, so at least there was someone here to handle the babe while I made busy with the mop and towels.
Finally got rid of the odor with bleach.
Oh, the horror.
Big Dog is currently out in the dog run, where she can run the Excremental 100 Yard Dash to her heart's content.
I dread letting her in for the night.
All of this insanity occured while I was on the phone with my lawyer. Joy.
Boy has two teeth coming in-- the ones immediately surrounding his two front top teeth. He's cranky as hell, and biting me for amusement value. He actually broke the skin on my hand. Thankfully, he seems to know better than to bite the boobs that feed him, but apparently my limbs are fair game... He walks the length of the couch, nipping me from the shoulder to the toes. Ouch. My back is holy living hell, so I am trying to lie flat as much as possible, which just provides Mr. Chomper with an easy target!
Anyway, the boy is snarking, so I better go.
Thursday, February 26, 2004
Orders of Magnitude of Foulness
Foul = dog shit.
Foul Squared = dog vomit.
Foul to the Hundredth Power = dog vomitting up dog shit that she previously ingested.
Holy Halitosis, Batman, that shit is wretch-inducing.
Foul Squared = dog vomit.
Foul to the Hundredth Power = dog vomitting up dog shit that she previously ingested.
Holy Halitosis, Batman, that shit is wretch-inducing.
It Never Rains But it Pours
Especially if it's stress we're talking about.
Need to decide whether to sue somebody I used to consider a friend, who betrayed me and cost me a fortune...
I am just so tired of fighting, part of me wants to just let it go and call it a lesson.
Part of me is so tremendously hurt that all I want is revenge. I certainly do not think his betrayal warrants a reward, which is what he will get if I choose not to fight this.
Not exactly a happy outcome no matter what I decide to do.
But this person's continued arrogance and abuse, his sense that he is entitled to walk on me, even now, even after he murdered our friendship, pisses me off to no end.
What to do???
I am completely conflicted.
Need to decide whether to sue somebody I used to consider a friend, who betrayed me and cost me a fortune...
I am just so tired of fighting, part of me wants to just let it go and call it a lesson.
Part of me is so tremendously hurt that all I want is revenge. I certainly do not think his betrayal warrants a reward, which is what he will get if I choose not to fight this.
Not exactly a happy outcome no matter what I decide to do.
But this person's continued arrogance and abuse, his sense that he is entitled to walk on me, even now, even after he murdered our friendship, pisses me off to no end.
What to do???
I am completely conflicted.
Wednesday, February 25, 2004
Scary Baby Tricks
Major scare here which gave me a panic attack...
The living room is Mikro's playroom. It has a rubber tile floor, and baby gates, and even a baby sized couch which he naps on. In that room, he is as safe as we can make it for him. It's really sort of an oversized playpen at this point, at least until he figures out how to climb up on the big people couches, and falling off becomes a danger.
We have two dogs, one of whom is intensely jealous of the baby, because her career as a working dog came to an end at his birth. She has a back problem, and can't do service work anymore. She has gone from being my constant companion inside and out of the house, to just an ordinary dog who stays homewhen we go out. Unfortunately, due to the timing, she sees it as: the little critter came along, and I got exiled. She hasn't ever done anything aggressive towards the babe, but at 85 lbs., with nearly two inch long fangs, I am resolved never to give her the chance. I love my dog, but I will not risk my son's life.
She is absolutely not allowed to be with the baby unsupervised.
Well, my sick and muzzy headed husband didn't latch the baby gate right.
I was in the kitchen waiting for my tea water to boil, where I can't see the living room. The dogs were in the dining room, which is in between. Unbeknowst to me, the big dog was in there chewing up a pair of my underwear, when the babe figured out that the gate wasn't latched and made his bid for freedom. He crawled over the dog and into the kitchen, without a sound.
Of course, all I can think of is, he could literally have been torn to pieces by the dog, if she had decided that he was attempting to steal the purloined panties she was snacking upon. She has been known to be guilty of resource guarding, and like most German Shepherds, she is territorial to boot. She also has very strong prey drive, and loves to chase small fast moving objects like squirrels and cats... So far she's only ever been aggressive with other dogs, but I have heard to my horror that dogs do not really comprehend that babies are little humans, and thus above them in pack order... which makes tragic mistakes all the more possible.
On top of the dog danger, there was the fact that the dining room has become the repository of all the stuff we didn't want the babe to get into, and he just took an unescorted tour of it all. Granted, it was only about a minute and a half long, but that's long enough for him to have found trouble.
Needless to say, I am a basketcase. This can NEVER happen again.
The living room is Mikro's playroom. It has a rubber tile floor, and baby gates, and even a baby sized couch which he naps on. In that room, he is as safe as we can make it for him. It's really sort of an oversized playpen at this point, at least until he figures out how to climb up on the big people couches, and falling off becomes a danger.
We have two dogs, one of whom is intensely jealous of the baby, because her career as a working dog came to an end at his birth. She has a back problem, and can't do service work anymore. She has gone from being my constant companion inside and out of the house, to just an ordinary dog who stays homewhen we go out. Unfortunately, due to the timing, she sees it as: the little critter came along, and I got exiled. She hasn't ever done anything aggressive towards the babe, but at 85 lbs., with nearly two inch long fangs, I am resolved never to give her the chance. I love my dog, but I will not risk my son's life.
She is absolutely not allowed to be with the baby unsupervised.
Well, my sick and muzzy headed husband didn't latch the baby gate right.
I was in the kitchen waiting for my tea water to boil, where I can't see the living room. The dogs were in the dining room, which is in between. Unbeknowst to me, the big dog was in there chewing up a pair of my underwear, when the babe figured out that the gate wasn't latched and made his bid for freedom. He crawled over the dog and into the kitchen, without a sound.
Of course, all I can think of is, he could literally have been torn to pieces by the dog, if she had decided that he was attempting to steal the purloined panties she was snacking upon. She has been known to be guilty of resource guarding, and like most German Shepherds, she is territorial to boot. She also has very strong prey drive, and loves to chase small fast moving objects like squirrels and cats... So far she's only ever been aggressive with other dogs, but I have heard to my horror that dogs do not really comprehend that babies are little humans, and thus above them in pack order... which makes tragic mistakes all the more possible.
On top of the dog danger, there was the fact that the dining room has become the repository of all the stuff we didn't want the babe to get into, and he just took an unescorted tour of it all. Granted, it was only about a minute and a half long, but that's long enough for him to have found trouble.
Needless to say, I am a basketcase. This can NEVER happen again.
In Sickness and For Worse
My husband is home sick today. It seems like he may be coming down with whatever I had last week, poor guy. I've been thinking about him alot lately, as our thirteenth anniversary approaches. About how he really didn't get what he bargained for when he married me. When we said our vows, I was 25, healthy, and making more money than he was, at a profession that I expected to pursue until retirement age, with the sky as the limit on advancement and salary potential. Within a couple of years, I had my accident, and all that changed forever. So, from that, came this:
IN SICKNESS AND FOR WORSE
The bride in the wedding pictures is tall and slender,
Her face accustomed to smiles and laughter and the occasional smirk.
She said her vows in a cloud of happiness, unable to believe
She could really be lucky enough to marry her best friend.
The wife holding the photo album is thirteen years older
Than the beaming bride, but she is ancient in the ways
Of pain and misfortune, and the dashing of dreams,
Her frame stooped and crooked under the weight of her sorrows.
She could never have imagined that, only two years married,
She would meet with near disaster, to be marked forevermore
By disability and despair, or that her beloved husband would be condemned
To live so much in the land of in sickness and for worse...
Every day I wish I could go back to being who I was before the accident. It'll never happen, and nearly eleven years later, I still haven't found a way to accept that. I'm still so busy mourning my old life, that I forget to live the life I have now. I'm working on changing that, but it's slow going...
IN SICKNESS AND FOR WORSE
The bride in the wedding pictures is tall and slender,
Her face accustomed to smiles and laughter and the occasional smirk.
She said her vows in a cloud of happiness, unable to believe
She could really be lucky enough to marry her best friend.
The wife holding the photo album is thirteen years older
Than the beaming bride, but she is ancient in the ways
Of pain and misfortune, and the dashing of dreams,
Her frame stooped and crooked under the weight of her sorrows.
She could never have imagined that, only two years married,
She would meet with near disaster, to be marked forevermore
By disability and despair, or that her beloved husband would be condemned
To live so much in the land of in sickness and for worse...
Every day I wish I could go back to being who I was before the accident. It'll never happen, and nearly eleven years later, I still haven't found a way to accept that. I'm still so busy mourning my old life, that I forget to live the life I have now. I'm working on changing that, but it's slow going...
Tuesday, February 24, 2004
Waste is a Terrible Thing to Mind -or- the Poetry of Poop
Here's a little something I wrote...
ODE TO THE DIAPER PAIL
Poopy parcel in hand,
I open the lid
of the plastic Dalek,
Stuff in the diaper
And prepare to twist,
But nothing happens.
How odd.
My sleep deprived brain
Doesn't grasp immediately
That the pail is full.
On autopilot, mechanically
I try again, shove harder,
But meet only resistance.
Damn, now what do I do?
Pull out the shit rope
Long and ghostly white
Like a braid of garlic
Yet fragrant in a whole ‘nother way.
I tie the ends together
And make a fecal wreath
Which I offer to the gods of garbage.
I haven't written poetry in ages. It is really nce to be able to tap away on my new laptop while Mikro takes the occassional nap.
ODE TO THE DIAPER PAIL
Poopy parcel in hand,
I open the lid
of the plastic Dalek,
Stuff in the diaper
And prepare to twist,
But nothing happens.
How odd.
My sleep deprived brain
Doesn't grasp immediately
That the pail is full.
On autopilot, mechanically
I try again, shove harder,
But meet only resistance.
Damn, now what do I do?
Pull out the shit rope
Long and ghostly white
Like a braid of garlic
Yet fragrant in a whole ‘nother way.
I tie the ends together
And make a fecal wreath
Which I offer to the gods of garbage.
I haven't written poetry in ages. It is really nce to be able to tap away on my new laptop while Mikro takes the occassional nap.
Monday, February 23, 2004
The Game to Play is Compromise Solution....
By nature, I am a fight to the bitter end for your principles kinda gal. My instinct is always that what is right is more important than what is easy. And yet, I have just made a major decision on the basis of expediency, rather than justice, and it rankles. But it was probably the best decision I could have made under very extreme circumstances...
I know this is a wierd, cryptic entry, and I ought to be able to clear it up soon, and to feel like I no longer am being stalked across the internet before much longer, but until this is all a t's crossed, i's dotted, done deal, I am afraid I am going to have to leave it at its current murky best.
In other news, I spent four days last week with a 104 degree fever and bronchitis, which is the major reason I've not been blogging. I think this is the sickest I've ever been, worse even than pneumonia. I had the chills so bad I was shaking, and just couldn't get warm. Wound up using microwavable moist heat packs and mass quantities of tea to stop my teeth chattering, at least until I started throwing up. Today is my last day's worth of antibiotics, and while I'm not 100 percent, I'm at least at 80... My sweet husband was amazing. He took care of me, and the boy, while I was sick, and let me just rest. He was off most of last week, taking care of us, and, at the end, trying to cope with having thrown out his back.
At this point, Mikro seems to have a mild cold, and a slight cough. I'm watching him carefully for any sign of a fever.
My parents also gave me a belated Christmas gift-- the laptop I lusted after, so at least I had a toy to play with while laying in bed under as many blankets as I could find.
I know this is a wierd, cryptic entry, and I ought to be able to clear it up soon, and to feel like I no longer am being stalked across the internet before much longer, but until this is all a t's crossed, i's dotted, done deal, I am afraid I am going to have to leave it at its current murky best.
In other news, I spent four days last week with a 104 degree fever and bronchitis, which is the major reason I've not been blogging. I think this is the sickest I've ever been, worse even than pneumonia. I had the chills so bad I was shaking, and just couldn't get warm. Wound up using microwavable moist heat packs and mass quantities of tea to stop my teeth chattering, at least until I started throwing up. Today is my last day's worth of antibiotics, and while I'm not 100 percent, I'm at least at 80... My sweet husband was amazing. He took care of me, and the boy, while I was sick, and let me just rest. He was off most of last week, taking care of us, and, at the end, trying to cope with having thrown out his back.
At this point, Mikro seems to have a mild cold, and a slight cough. I'm watching him carefully for any sign of a fever.
My parents also gave me a belated Christmas gift-- the laptop I lusted after, so at least I had a toy to play with while laying in bed under as many blankets as I could find.
Thursday, February 12, 2004
Setbacks
Memo to Self: Hey Goofball, just because the poofy pastry has fruit filling DOES NOT MEAN it counts as a fruit, and only a fruit! No more sugary baked goods!
I definitely am a stress eater, and my true colors are showing dayglo bright.
I need to distract myself or I will eat everything in sight...
It doesn't help that the stress and my allergies got me all germy and immune system depressed and receptive for a cold, which has taken up residence in my throat, sinuses and chest. It's probably bronchitis. So I am feeling sorry for myself, and more apt to let myself get away with the comfort food bingey behavior that made me what I am today- fat! (Being depressed about being in constant pain and stressed out with PTSD added over eighty pounds that I am still dragging around with me.)
Off to walk the dogs while Mikro is occupied. Maybe some fresh air will clear some of the stressy stuff out of my head... Not likely, but worth a shot. Hey, at least it counts as exercise...
I definitely am a stress eater, and my true colors are showing dayglo bright.
I need to distract myself or I will eat everything in sight...
It doesn't help that the stress and my allergies got me all germy and immune system depressed and receptive for a cold, which has taken up residence in my throat, sinuses and chest. It's probably bronchitis. So I am feeling sorry for myself, and more apt to let myself get away with the comfort food bingey behavior that made me what I am today- fat! (Being depressed about being in constant pain and stressed out with PTSD added over eighty pounds that I am still dragging around with me.)
Off to walk the dogs while Mikro is occupied. Maybe some fresh air will clear some of the stressy stuff out of my head... Not likely, but worth a shot. Hey, at least it counts as exercise...
Wednesday, February 11, 2004
Teethmarks
My arm is sporting two bright red patches with teethmarks... My son has decided I am the world's best teething toy.
Things are hectic and stressful, with lawsuit related crap at the forefront of my list of things I could live without. Being chewed on ranks a close second.
Kevin's been working late regularly. He's stressed and crabby and the nasty sarcastic side of his personality is showing far more than usual. We are on each others' nerves big time.
To add to the overwhelming lack of fun here, I seem to have a urinary tract infection, and I am betting it is from holding it in so long because I hate to leave the babe alone in the bed for even the few minutes it takes to run nextdoor and pee, which takes longer than it needs to because of the German Shepherd with delusions of soccerballness who seems determined to get between my feet and either break my neck or get stomped on in the dark...
So, all in all, not such a good week here...
Things are hectic and stressful, with lawsuit related crap at the forefront of my list of things I could live without. Being chewed on ranks a close second.
Kevin's been working late regularly. He's stressed and crabby and the nasty sarcastic side of his personality is showing far more than usual. We are on each others' nerves big time.
To add to the overwhelming lack of fun here, I seem to have a urinary tract infection, and I am betting it is from holding it in so long because I hate to leave the babe alone in the bed for even the few minutes it takes to run nextdoor and pee, which takes longer than it needs to because of the German Shepherd with delusions of soccerballness who seems determined to get between my feet and either break my neck or get stomped on in the dark...
So, all in all, not such a good week here...
Wednesday, February 04, 2004
On Disability and Motherhood
An interesting article from a mama with health problems similar to my own... on disability an motherhood.
Matter Over Mind: One Mothers Malady
by Maria Rowan
Matter Over Mind: One Mothers Malady
by Maria Rowan
Something I Need to Be Reminded Of...
You don't get to choose how you are going to die. Or when. You can only decide how you are going to live. Now. -- Joan Baez.
And you can always write a to-be-opened-in-the-event-of-my-death letter, which I highly recommend. Since I almost got killed with no chance to say goodbye one evening almost 11 years ago, and that prospect bothered me as much, or maybe more, than the prospect of my own death, I wrote such a letter years ago. While I was pregnant with Mikro, I wrote an updated version for him, because I am that morbid nowadays (and because the destruction of the Space Shuttle Columbia and her crew, who never got to say goodbye to their families, got me going down that road). Having the letter is one less worry... and I can stand to knock as many of those as I can off the list...
This is my letter:
Dear Mikey:
I hope you never have to read this letter, but it is one I know I have to write. A long time ago, I was in a bad accident that could have been much worse. I could have been killed. One of the things that bothers me the most about it is that I would never have had a chance to say good-bye to the people I loved, to make sure they knew how very much I love them. You weren't even born at the time, so it was mostly your Daddy I was worried about leaving behind.
All too often, we get really caught up in being busy and forget to tell people what is most important-- how we feel about them. Too many people just never say what is in their hearts. Then one day it is too late. I hope I have learned enough from the accident that I will not make that mistake. I hope I remember to tell you I love you every day of your life. I hope I will live to see your children, and their children, grow up. But I can't guarantee it. Life is uncertain. If anything should happen that I can not be with you, there are some thngs I want you to know.
First, that I love you with all my heart. And I always will. No matter what. I believe the soul is eternal, and I will love you and your Daddy beyond time, death and space. I believe that one day we are reunited with the people (and animals) we love. I don't know what the next life is like, whether we look like angels with wings, or just a cloud or what, but I believe that the special spark that makes us who we are never dies. I am absolutely sure that after my Gramma died, she was still around. I still talk to her. I don't hear her talk back, but I know she is here, and she hears me. Please know that I will always look out for you. Even if you can't see me, I will be there, loving you.
Always,
Mommy
Every single day I make sure that I tell my boy: Mommy loves you. You're sweet. You're special. You're smart. You're beautiful. You mean the world to me, and I will love you forever.
And every single night, I say Alan Shepard's prayer: Lord, don't let me fuck this up.
And you can always write a to-be-opened-in-the-event-of-my-death letter, which I highly recommend. Since I almost got killed with no chance to say goodbye one evening almost 11 years ago, and that prospect bothered me as much, or maybe more, than the prospect of my own death, I wrote such a letter years ago. While I was pregnant with Mikro, I wrote an updated version for him, because I am that morbid nowadays (and because the destruction of the Space Shuttle Columbia and her crew, who never got to say goodbye to their families, got me going down that road). Having the letter is one less worry... and I can stand to knock as many of those as I can off the list...
This is my letter:
Dear Mikey:
I hope you never have to read this letter, but it is one I know I have to write. A long time ago, I was in a bad accident that could have been much worse. I could have been killed. One of the things that bothers me the most about it is that I would never have had a chance to say good-bye to the people I loved, to make sure they knew how very much I love them. You weren't even born at the time, so it was mostly your Daddy I was worried about leaving behind.
All too often, we get really caught up in being busy and forget to tell people what is most important-- how we feel about them. Too many people just never say what is in their hearts. Then one day it is too late. I hope I have learned enough from the accident that I will not make that mistake. I hope I remember to tell you I love you every day of your life. I hope I will live to see your children, and their children, grow up. But I can't guarantee it. Life is uncertain. If anything should happen that I can not be with you, there are some thngs I want you to know.
First, that I love you with all my heart. And I always will. No matter what. I believe the soul is eternal, and I will love you and your Daddy beyond time, death and space. I believe that one day we are reunited with the people (and animals) we love. I don't know what the next life is like, whether we look like angels with wings, or just a cloud or what, but I believe that the special spark that makes us who we are never dies. I am absolutely sure that after my Gramma died, she was still around. I still talk to her. I don't hear her talk back, but I know she is here, and she hears me. Please know that I will always look out for you. Even if you can't see me, I will be there, loving you.
Always,
Mommy
Every single day I make sure that I tell my boy: Mommy loves you. You're sweet. You're special. You're smart. You're beautiful. You mean the world to me, and I will love you forever.
And every single night, I say Alan Shepard's prayer: Lord, don't let me fuck this up.
Tuesday, February 03, 2004
Amazing Boy
He's been entertaining himself for an hour now, and letting me catch up on reading blogs, and posting here. He's just a pleasure today-- keeping himself busy with his toys, and crawling all over the living room. Now he's crawled to the gate and is watching me and smacking his lips, so I guess the experiment in independence is about to end... He was disappearing to the far side of the room, where I couldn't see him, and I would say Baby? Where are you?, and then he'd pop his head out and giggle. It seems like at nine and a half months old, he has taught himself the concept of hide-n-go-seek, or at least peekaboo...
The past couple of nights, we have given him paper and a crayon in the highchair, and he sort of inadvertently marks the paper, but he really gets a kick out of it when I draw smiley faces for him. One unfortunate manner in which he takes after his mama became apparent when he attempted to eat his crayon. I used to love to do that, and I sincerely believed different colors had different flavors. Drove my mom nuts, especially when I ate them without peeling the paper off...
The past couple of nights, we have given him paper and a crayon in the highchair, and he sort of inadvertently marks the paper, but he really gets a kick out of it when I draw smiley faces for him. One unfortunate manner in which he takes after his mama became apparent when he attempted to eat his crayon. I used to love to do that, and I sincerely believed different colors had different flavors. Drove my mom nuts, especially when I ate them without peeling the paper off...
Getting Geographical
Bold = Visited
Italics = Lived
1) Alabama 2) Alaska 3) Arizona 4) Arkansas 5) California 6) Colorado 7) Connecticut 8) Delaware 9) Florida 10) Georgia 11) Hawaii 12) Idaho 13) Illinois 14) Indiana 15) Iowa 16) Kansas 17) Kentucky 18) Louisiana 19) Maine 20) Maryland 21) Massachusetts 22) Michigan 23) Minnesota 24) Mississippi 25) Missouri 26) Montana 27) Nebraska 28) Nevada 29) New Hampshire 30) New Jersey 31) New Mexico 32) New York 33) North Carolina 34) North Dakota 35) Ohio 36) Oklahoma 37) Oregon 38) Pennsylvania 39) Rhode Island 40) South Carolina 41)South Dakota 42) Tennessee 43) Texas 44) Utah 45) Vermont 46) Virginia 47) Washington 48) West Virginia 49) Wisconsin 50) Wyoming and 51) DC
Italics = Lived
1) Alabama 2) Alaska 3) Arizona 4) Arkansas 5) California 6) Colorado 7) Connecticut 8) Delaware 9) Florida 10) Georgia 11) Hawaii 12) Idaho 13) Illinois 14) Indiana 15) Iowa 16) Kansas 17) Kentucky 18) Louisiana 19) Maine 20) Maryland 21) Massachusetts 22) Michigan 23) Minnesota 24) Mississippi 25) Missouri 26) Montana 27) Nebraska 28) Nevada 29) New Hampshire 30) New Jersey 31) New Mexico 32) New York 33) North Carolina 34) North Dakota 35) Ohio 36) Oklahoma 37) Oregon 38) Pennsylvania 39) Rhode Island 40) South Carolina 41)South Dakota 42) Tennessee 43) Texas 44) Utah 45) Vermont 46) Virginia 47) Washington 48) West Virginia 49) Wisconsin 50) Wyoming and 51) DC
Green Veggies for Sir Six Teeth
Mikro is now happily chowing down on green veggies, as well as the orange ones he has long enjoyed. The secret was a bit sneaky-- we found that Gerber makes a Garden Veggies blend of carrots, spinach and peas, and I guess the carrots sweeten it enough to suit him. Next week I'll try the straight green stuff and see what happens... He also absolutely loves yogurt, but spits out most table food.
The other big news is that the Boy now has two more bottom teeth, giving him a total of six.
He's also teething hard, and has now started biting me. Thankfully, he seems more interested in biting my hand than my boobs! But he chomps down hard enough to leave teeth marks that take half an hour to fade. The only times he's bitten me while nursing is when he's just about to fall asleep, so I am trying to watch and detach him before he gets to that point, since it seems to be a reflex sort of thing, not something he's doing intentionally.
He's cruising all over the place, and occassionally he will let go and stand unsupported, but so far, no walking...
The level of anxiety here is unfortunately sky high, because of lawsuit stuff, and it is driving me nuts. I miss my zoloft, sigh.
I'm hoping we can get to the mall this weekend and buy Mikro a little chair to sit in. I'm thinking one of those denim covered ones that pulls out into a comfy nap pad... There's so much snow still on the ground I can't even take the Boy for a walk in the stroller. I am cabin feverish in the extreme. I pray it doesn't snow anymore before the weekend so I can actually get out and do something!
The other big news is that the Boy now has two more bottom teeth, giving him a total of six.
He's also teething hard, and has now started biting me. Thankfully, he seems more interested in biting my hand than my boobs! But he chomps down hard enough to leave teeth marks that take half an hour to fade. The only times he's bitten me while nursing is when he's just about to fall asleep, so I am trying to watch and detach him before he gets to that point, since it seems to be a reflex sort of thing, not something he's doing intentionally.
He's cruising all over the place, and occassionally he will let go and stand unsupported, but so far, no walking...
The level of anxiety here is unfortunately sky high, because of lawsuit stuff, and it is driving me nuts. I miss my zoloft, sigh.
I'm hoping we can get to the mall this weekend and buy Mikro a little chair to sit in. I'm thinking one of those denim covered ones that pulls out into a comfy nap pad... There's so much snow still on the ground I can't even take the Boy for a walk in the stroller. I am cabin feverish in the extreme. I pray it doesn't snow anymore before the weekend so I can actually get out and do something!
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