THAT Lady...

Think back to the days before you had kids. Remember THAT lady? You know the one I mean. The one with the screaming, asshole kids. Maybe you were in the grocery store and you rolled your eyes as she gave in to her screaming toddler's candy tantrum. Maybe you were in Target and she was the absent one, presumably, I don't know, fluffing her hair and buying fancy chocolate in another aisle while her little beasts terrorized the entire store. Maybe, god forbid, you were in a restaurant and you just wanted to enjoy your cocktail and appetizer and WHY WON'T THAT KID SHUT THE FUCK UP?

We've all been there. And we've all wondered (judged? Let's be real. We fucking judged. Hard.) why she couldn't simply control her kid. We realized the kid was an asshole, but also realized it was through no fault of his own. Asshole parents= asshole kids. There's just no getting around it. SOME people just shouldn't be allowed to procreate.

And then. YOU. BECOME. THAT. LADY. The asshole. With the screaming, heathen kid. And all your judgment for other people's parenting (mostly) goes down the toilet. The mom with the toddler tantrum? Yeah, I've given my kid candy to shut her up too. Those little bastards in Target? THE GOOD CHOCOLATE IS ALL I HAVE LEFT, AND I HAVE TO FUCKING HIDE IT AND EAT IT AT 11:00 AT NIGHT OR SHARE WITH A ONE YEAR OLD. The restaurant? The part you don't hear is me begging my daughter to "shhhh... please stop screaming!" while she chucks food and crayons at me, tries to knock my drink over and grabs at anything hot or sharp that is even remotely within reach. My husband enjoys his meal while I shovel cold food into my gullet 15 minutes after it arrives because by the time Caitlyn's food is just cool enough for her to eat, mine is inexplicably ice cold absolutely every time.

Now, when I see a toddler throwing a tantrum, I wonder to myself if I have any toys or wipes in my purse that might help that mom out. I smile knowingly. What do I know? That kids are, in fact, assholes all on their own.

Let me rephrase that. Caitlyn isn't necessarily an asshole. Not all the time. In fact, not even MOST of the time. Most of the time she is sweet and lovely and charms the pants off of nearly everyone she meets. I think this is probably the case with most kids. And if you really think about how many kids there are at any given time in a grocery store or a Target, realistically, a good majority of them are being really good. But you don't notice the good ones. You only notice the assholes because those are the ones fucking up your shopping experience.

So I guess I'm saying sometimes kids are bad. And sometimes they are SO fucking bad that you want to crawl into a hole and die of embarrassment because you know everyone in the restaurant hates you right now. And no matter how quickly you shovel your food, grab the check and hightail it out of there, the 22 year olds at the table next to you are still going to tell everyone about the horrible mom with the jerkiest, whiniest kid EVER that they shouldn't even take out in public who sat next to them that night and ruined their good time.

Caitlyn has been on the receiving end of some bitchin' ass molars for the last month or so. And really, I've never seen her so volatile and easily irritated and prone to just going completely off the deep end at the slightest inconvenience. She's generally a little, ahem, used to getting her way anyway, but she's also usually easily placated when she doesn't get what she wants. But molars, man. Fucking molars are baby PMS. Between the mood swings and only wanting to eat ice cream, there simply isn't a better way to describe it.

So what I'm saying is, if you see me at the grocery store feeding my baby cookies while she stands in the cart and whines, don't fucking judge me. Because really, she's usually pretty awesome.

The Early Bird Gets the Taxidermied Cat (because you have to order those things WAY in advance)

Last year at Christmas, Caitlyn was only 7 months old. I was just getting out of my retail job at the beginning of December and I didn't really have a chance to fully appreciate just how awesome it was to not have to kill myself for the entire month.

When it came to Christmas shopping, I mostly did it in bursts. I'd spend my lunch hour shopping at my mall or I'd go to Walmart after work and try to get gifts for as many people as possible so I could avoid going to the store more than a few times. Caitlyn got a few toys, but I really didn't go overboard. I mean, my mom certainly did. I quite literally needed 2 cars to get home with all the stuff she bought. But I knew she was getting a ton of stuff, so maybe that's why I only bought a few things.

This year though, I'm truly looking forward to the holidays like I haven't been able to in years. And it's perfect timing because Caitlyn is now old enough to really enjoy them with me. My point is that I've started thinking about shopping for Christmas much earlier than I ever have before (mostly because I'm finally not dreading it), which got me to wondering what I should get her this year.

I know I want to get her a toy kitchen. Mostly because then maybe she will stop taking things out of my cabinets. And maybe a tricycle, though I'm not sure if she's really old enough for that yet. Besides those two things though, I'm kind of lost. So I started thinking about her interests. What does Caitlyn like? How can I leverage that into the perfect Christmas gift? So based on her current interests and hobbies, here is my list of possible appropriate gifts:

1. A Taxidermied Cat: Because she loves the living one SO MUCH, but she always runs away when Caitlyn tries to use her as a pillow! And fake stuffed animals just aren't the same!

2. Rock Climbing Lessons: Because the desk chair, baseboard heaters, kitchen table and her crib are no longer challenging her inner monkey. I supposed we will have to find a REALLY small harness, but it will be worth it if this in any way sets a fear of heights into motion. Because fuck kid, you are currently a fearless maniac.

3. Assorted Chew Toys and 500 Ice Pops: See The Teething Monster.

4. A Copy of "The Dukan Diet": Because it's all the rage now, and Caitlyn seems very concerned about keeping her girlish figure. The other night we had chicken, french fries and salad for dinner. After several failed attempts to get her to eat both chicken and fries, she pointed to my salad and said "puh-puh-puh" (this is Caitlyn for "please", because I'm the kind of mom who teaches my kid to be civilized and shit). I scoffed, but handed her a piece of lettuce thinking she would realize it was not candy and maybe decide to eat some chicken. Except she decided that lettuce was delicious and the only thing she was willing to eat that night. So I suspect she is already on a diet and I wouldn't want to derail that by offering her fat people food like french fries ever again. Actually... wait a minute. Did she just call me fat? Because I definitely WAS eating the french fries. I don't need your judgment, you freakishly tiny child!

5. An Ipod Touch: Because she loves to dance. This is a responsible purchase for a less than 2 year old, right? I mean, they have droolproofing or some shit, don't they? Stupid "genius" motherfuckers can pack 2,000 songs onto something the size of the palm of my hand but they can't create a droolproof case? Geniuses my ass.

6. Something That Brown People Like: Because she has recently been spotted being inappropriately loud in public, laughing at everything like someone just told OMGTHEBESTJOKEEVER, scowling at me as she openly disapproves of my choices, regardless of whether or not I've asked for her opinion and disregarding the fact that SOME people have jobs to go to in the morning. So... Coronas? I don't know. Any suggestions would be greatly appreciated.


So what are you guys getting your kids this year? What else does Caitlyn need, because I'm pretty sure 2 taxidermied cats would be overkill.

The Teething Monster

You know how everyone tells you how you hardly get any sleep with a newborn? That you will be like a zombie mindlessly buzzing through the night and maybe accidentally breastfeeding the cat? Well, it wasn't like that for me.

When Caitlyn was a newborn, I had a pretty sweet deal. My in-laws were here from Peru for the first month of her life and every morning when they woke up, they would take care of her for a few hours and let me sleep, and when she would nap during the day, so would I.

That's not to say I didn't have a lot on my plate already... pumping every 2 hours was kicking my ass, but in the way of actual sleep, I wasn't doing too bad.

My in-laws left when Caitlyn was just about a month old and I was prepared for zombification. Except Caitlyn started sleeping through the night. She's always been a night owl, just like me, so it wasn't even a big deal that she didn't go to bed until midnight or 1am, because she would sleep till 9 or 10 the next morning. I was getting a few hours less sleep when I went back to work a month after that, but I still had a pretty sweet deal.

You know what no one warned me about though? That no matter how good a sleeper you have, once the teething monster shows up, you are FUCKED. You aren't ever going to sleep again. At least that's how it feels.

Teething is like Fight Club. Ed Norton and Brad Pitt are the same fucking guy. Teething Caitlyn and non-teething Caitlyn are the same baby. Mornings are fine. She wakes up bright as the morning sun, all smiles and rainbows and shit. She gives me a bit of trouble with eating, but she's always been a bit of a picky eater, so I roll with it. As the day wears on, she holds her shit together just fine. And then 8:00pm hits and she snaps and beats the shit out of my REM cycles for the next 11 hours.

Here is a breakdown of our night as we fight the demon inside of Caitlyn ('s gums):

7:30pm: Dinner time. This is when shit starts to hit the fan. Caitlyn spends half of dinner time begging for a drink and the other half feeding scraps to the dog. You know what the dog can't get out of my rug? Individual pieces of white rice. That shit sticks, yo. Which is probably why as soon as I give up on feeding her and take her out of her high chair, she gets on her hands and knees and tries to eat the food out of the rug. Because she's CONSIDERATE like that.

8:00pm: Climbing time - part one. This usually occurs while I'm cleaning up after dinner. Caitlyn will decide that there's something important that she MUST have on the dining room table. It's ironic that she almost immediately tries to climb up the dining room chairs after spending the previous 10 minutes reaching out for me and clutching my face, begging to be taken out of her high chair, but it always seems to happen.

8:15pm: Acrobatic feats of fearlessness. Last night was a doozy. My dining room table is roughly 6 steps away from my kitchen sink. I cleared the plates from dinner and took those 6 steps into the kitchen, spending an additional 10 seconds to quickly rinse the plates. After no more than 30 seconds, I walked back to the dining room to see Caitlyn standing on top of the table, all triumphant and shit (where was Dad, you ask? In the same room, facing the TV, watching football highlights. Fucker.).

8:30pm: Bath time. Wherein I remove a whining and defeated Caitlyn from her Kilamanjaro-esque glory to delouse her of the food, dog slobber and filth she's coated in (seriously, toddlers are the fucking filthiest creatures you will ever encounter).

8:45pm: I put Caitlyn's diaper on. She takes her diaper off. On. Off. On. Off. At the very least, she finds this exchange amusing and doesn't whine.

9:00pm: This is when Caitlyn is clearly overtired but refuses to go to sleep. Every exchange we have is me taking her off of something she's climbing or yelling at her for pulling the outlet covers off and sticking them up her nose and she responds by throwing herself to the ground in protest. I give her a bottle and put her in her crib, hoping she finally gives in, but alas, she finishes her bottle and cries until I pick her up (there are rare occassions where she will nap for 20 minutes, but this always fails as it rejuvenates her for at least 3 more hours). And I swear to god if I see the words "sleep training" anywhere in the fucking comments, I'm just going to snap. I'm a woman on the edge, motherfuckers. I haven't had a good night's sleep in months.

9:15pm: I pick her up. Obviously. She rewards me by throwing her arms around me and squealing with delight- "DADDY!".

9:30-10:30pm: Climbing time- part 2. Also? Pull things out of drawers time, because Caitlyn is kind of an asshole when she's overtired. This is also the point where I entrusted her to her Dad again for a few minutes and she managed to end up on top of the dining room table again. At least she was sitting this time. Drinking a glass of soda her Dad left there. Caffeine. Perfect!

10:30pm: This is the bedtime threshold at our house. It's finally late enough that we might get her to go to sleep. Except she doesn't go to sleep. She cries. Fuck. I iron my work clothes and try to ignore her. I do not succeed. You know who DOES succeed? Her Daddy. Because "she needs to learn to LISTEN". Jeez fucker, she's TEETHING.

11:00pm: Out of the crib again, because she's been blubbering inconsolably for 30 minutes now. Maybe 30 more minutes of play time will tire her out? Because mommy needs some fucking sleep and is currently willing to try anything.

11:30pm: Back to her crib. And she's crying again. MOTHERFUCKER JUST GO TO SLEEP KID. Give her another bottle, which she casts aside like a D list actress in Hollywood.

11:45pm: Take her into bed with me. Sing, stroke her hair, rock her. All to no avail. I finally decide that maybe she's hungry, since she hardly ate anything and bring her into the kitchen and feed her watermelon. This calms her down a bit.

11:55pm: Back to my bed where I finally manage to rock her into a fitful sleep. I put her into her crib and collapse into my own bed.

12:03am: Caitlyn wakes up. Again. I successfully ignore her and 10 minutes later, she falls back to sleep.

2:00am: Caitlyn wakes up screaming. I make her a bottle, which she refuses to drink. I check her diaper and find that it's wet. I change her and try the bottle again. She takes it for a moment. Just long enough for me to crawl back into bed. Then she starts screaming again.

2:10am: Hold down a sobbing Caitlyn while Rodolfo forces Tylenol down her gullet because she keeps dribbling it out of the side of her mouth. This has enraged her and her little face is bright red and tear-soaked. Which makes me feel like the worst parent on the planet.

2:20am: Continue to rock Caitlyn while Rodolfo makes her a juice bottle, which we hope will go over better than the milk. It does not. When he walks back in the room, she reaches out to him and begs for her Daddy through her sobs. Because Mommy is not good in a crisis, apparently.

2:25am: I decide an ice pop might soothe her gums. That's right. I gave my kid an ice pop at 2:30 in the morning. She refuses the ice pop at first, but also freaks out when I take it away at Rodolfo's request because she's got it pressed into his chest, all sticky and melty.

2:35am: Caitlyn finally calms down enough to eat her ice pop. It must have helped because as Rodolfo laid her in her crib, I heard him ask "what are you smiling about?". She finally goes to sleep for the night.

6:00am: Time to get up. Awesome. I feel SUPER rested!

Do You Believe in Santa? How about Tylenol? Jesus?

Caitlyn is getting molars. I think. I mean, she's being an asshole and she's screaming a lot and won't sleep for more than 3 hours at a time. That sounds like molars, right? Fucking molars.

Last night was day 4 of Caitlyn's marathon screaming at bedtime. It was exceptionally bad because the screaming started well before we put her to bed. I frequently take showers with her as opposed to giving her a bath and she usually loves it. Last night though, she spent about half the time with her head on my shoulder while she shattered my eardrums with her wailing.

She screamed for another hour before bed, but she finally did go to sleep. For an hour. Then she woke up and cried for 10 more minutes before we all finally went to bed for the night. And by "the night" obviously I mean for another 2 or 3 hours.

The first time she woke up, she only cried for 5 minutes and dozed back off. Another hour after that when she awoke again, we figured we would give it a few minutes and hoped she would go back to sleep on her own. That was not the case. After 5 minutes of ear-shattering screams, I tried to console Caitlyn and gave her a bottle. She refused the bottle and nothing I did could calm her down. That isn't easy. When you know your kid is in pain and nothing you are doing is helping... man, you just sort of feel like an asshole.

About 25 minutes into this ordeal, Rodolfo and I were scrambling for anything that might help. I even took a teething ring out of the freezer at 4:30 in the fucking morning because I thought she might want it. She did not. Then I realized that enough time had passed and she could have some more Tylenol. In case you are wondering, it's really hard to find an bottle of Tylenol at 4:30 in the morning, because Rodolfo gave up after roughly 10 seconds and told me to find it.

I found the Tylenol and figured I had another 15 or 20 minutes till it kicked in, so I laid Caitlyn on my chest and tried to close my eyes. She continued to scream. By the time 10 or 15 minutes had passed I was exhausted and frustrated- especially since I was taking care of the baby while Rodolfo went back to sleep. He is working a late shift today (meaning he can sleep as late as Caitlyn does) and I had to be up at 6:30 this morning. I didn't point this out right away though, because he is usually really good about getting up with her at night. Until.

Caitlyn's crying had jarred him out of his peaceful slumber once again, to which he responded "I knew Tylenol wasn't going to do anything. I don't even believe in Tylenol". That's right, folks. He doesn't believe in Tylenol. And who can blame him? Tylenol is a Scientologist.

My husband is Hispanic. He is superstitious. Once, when Caitlyn was only a couple of months old, he was convinced that someone had given her the "evil eye" when I took her to the mall that day because she was being really fussy when we got home. He immediately got his mom on the web cam where she said some sort of prayer to... exorcise the evil eye, I suppose? And did I mention the part about the egg? He didn't do it, because he doesn't know the "right way" (is there a right way to do voodoo?) but his mother explained to him that he should take a raw egg and roll it up and down Caitlyn's body. When he is finished, if he has done it correctly, the egg should be cooked, which would indicate that the heat from the bad vibes have been removed from the baby and absorbed into the egg. I mean, if my baby's body is hot enough to cook an egg, I'm going to take her to the hospital because she probably has some sort of horrific infection, but I guess it could totally be the evil eye too. But really, who needs antibiotics when you have an egg. Did I mention that she didn't have a fever through any of this? Evil eye is stealth like that.

So as I was saying, this man decided that he does not believe in Tylenol. Because, fucking TYLENOL people. Science and modern medicine is total bullshit anyway. Except for that time he had thyroid cancer. And appendicitis. But seriously, those were isolated incidents. If his mom had been in the country, she would have just cured him with an egg or maybe with the cancer she would have had to sacrifice a live chicken or something. I don't know how that shit works. I'm not a (witch) doctor.

My point (if I ever decide to make it) is that the comment about Tylenol pissed me off. It was the one thing that might have actually helped Caitlyn feel better and let us get some sleep. And this dumb ass is telling me he doesn't believe in it after 10 minutes of waiting for it to kick in so his beauty sleep is no longer being interrupted. I rolled my eyes and made a snide comment about how he's a moron or something like that. And he got ridiculously pissed off.

And then we had a fight at 5:00 in the morning while Caitlyn screamed in the background. That's what happens when you don't get any sleep. You have irrationally strong responses to Tylenol and snide comments and you wanna murder your spouse.

And now back to work ... the work of trying not to fall asleep at my desk. Fucking teething, man.

Airplanes+Babies=You are going to be fucking tired

Alright, so I didn't post while I was on vacation. I planned to and even tried to. But sometimes when you are in a third world country the computers just aren't what they are over here in America. I'm not what you would call tech savvy, but the internets said something about cookies being disabled and I had no idea how to able them. So that's that. But I will be posting all about the things and the stuff. Things and stuff. That is about the extent of my mental acuity right this moment. I'm absolutely exhausted, so we will start at the beginning, take a quick detour to the end and possibly make a brief pit-stop in 'traveller's diarrhea' junction. I'm talking about plane rides. And visits from the brown cow, apparently (actually this is inaccurate. I call it the brown cow because I'm lactose intolerant and he usually swings by if I decide to eat ice cream or something stupid like that. I think Sludgey the Speckled Llama is probably more appropriate). Yeah, you are just that lucky. I'm sorry, I'm disgusting. I'm just better at hiding it when I'm not overtired. So wait, yeah, planes. Airplanes. AEROPLANES. Flomp. Ok, I'm gonna try to be coherent now. I was nervous about the plane trip. I don't like to fly to begin with, but I was trying not to think about that. I spent all my time before we left focusing on what Caitlyn might need. The flight itself was 9 hours and for an international flight you need to give yourself a few hours of buffer anyway, plus we were trying to secure a bassinette and we were given the impression that we had a better shot at it if we checked in extra early. So for the trip to Peru, we were looking at a minimum of 15 hours from the time we left home till the time we arrived at Rodolfo's parents house. Now, let me tell you, 15 hours is a long time for a baby. What it isn't? A week. It would therefore make sense to assume that you wouldn't need a week's worth of clothes, formula/food and diapers (and bottles, wipes, pacifiers, spoons, bibs, toys, Tylenol, gas drops, thermometer, first aid kit, disinfecting wipes, hand santizer, etc., etc., etc.) in your carry-on luggage. Or at least that's what you would think. I overpacked. Grossly. Not in general, I wouldn't say (I did bring a lot more baby clothes than necessary, and our luggage was packed to the extreme, but a lot of those were Caitlyn's smaller baby clothes for Rodolfo's niece in Peru so they didn't come back home with us- in fact we were an entire suitcase lighter on the way home). But in the sense of what we actually needed to carry on the plane with us, I may have slightly overfigured. We had a backpack and a giant duffel bag full of carry-on items that seemed absolutely essential at the time. I mean really, what would I have done if Caitlyn felt feverish and I couldn't take her temperature to know exactly how high the fever was? Would I just give her a precautionary dose of Tylenol without being sure? How reckless that would be!!! And of course, you can't take a baby's temperature without a travel-sized jar of vaseline to grease up her booty! I can be a bit of a worrier and I'm always either completely unprepared or ridiculously overprepared. There is never a happy medium with me when it comes to things like that. So as I packed, I realized that most of this stuff would probably never be used. So it wasn't that I was carrying a bag full of stuff I didn't need that bothered me. It certainly bothered my husband, but that isn't really my problem. The problem came when we DID need something out of the bag. A pacifier, for example, right before the plane took off. The bag was so stuffed full of crap that we couldn't find a pacifier. Let me clarify that. We had a bottle at the ready. We kept Caitlyn awake until we got on the plane, and figured we would give her the bottle as we were taking off and she would doze off and nap for the first hour or two of the flight. You know, in a perfect world and all. She was fussy and exhausted while we prepped for take-off, so we figured we would give her a little of her bottle to calm her down. Except that she drank the whole thing in 5 minutes. So as everyone else is strapping themselves in for the flight, Rodolfo is annoying the flight attendants by opening up the overhead compartments and rummaging through our carry-on. It continued with that same theme for the entire flight. We would need something, and Rodolfo would mumble curses under his breath at me as he dropped things out of the bag while he searched for what we actually needed. I mean, diapers on the bottom has always been my motto; I don't know what HIS problem was. So all that being said, I can't really complain about the flight in. Caitlyn did very well and didn't cry at all, with the exception of when she decided to refuse her pacifier as we descended and her ears started to bother her. But at that point she had already spent the entire flight charming the pants off of everyone in her sightlines (she almost always has a smile on her face and had just started waving hello so it was really novel for her to wave at absolutely everyone who crossed her path and they all seemed more than happy to wave back) and one of the flight attendants felt for her and asked if she could carry her around and entertain her for a few minutes before we prepped to land. And of course, I said yes and Caitlyn was all smiles about being the center of attention after that. The flight home was a bit more challenging. On the way to Peru, we did end up getting a bassinette, which also meant upgraded seating to the bulkhead area, with more room for Caitlyn to move around. When she did nap, she was able to nap in the bassinette fairly comfortably. We weren't so lucky on the way home. Sludgey had made his appearance by then, and she had just started cutting the second of the two teeth she got during our trip (the two on either side of her front top teeth), and along with that, the soreness of a nose that had been running for a week because of the teething, so she was already naturally more fussy then on the trip there. This was an overnight flight, so I was really hoping to get a bassinette so she could rest comfortably, but also so WE could rest too. But the flight was packed and it just wasn't possible. Still, I figured, she usually does sleep through the night, this shouldn't be too bad. I had on my baby carrier and she always dozes off in there. That night though, she was cranky and overtired by the time we got on the plane, so she decided that the carrier was the worst thing that had ever happened to her. And she cried. A lot. Even after I took her out of the carrier, it seemed like I could do nothing right for her during that entire flight. When I cuddled her close to try to get her to fall asleep, she Hulked out on me and busted out of my grip with an angry scream. Daddy took her then, as Daddy can do no wrong. She only slept on Daddy that night. But even once she did fall asleep, she tends to be a little restless and wiggles around all night and the confines of Daddy's lap made her wake up and whine an annoyed little cry at least once an hour. And because of all the wiggling, we had to be on guard constantly because she nearly rolled off of Rodolfo's lap about a hundred times. At some point, and after that, for most of the rest of the night, she decided that the most comfortable position was on her stomach with her head and torso on Rodolfo's lap and her butt and legs hanging off my legs at a 90 degree angle. The problem with that was that she only needed to move an inch to fall off our laps. Rodolfo was on watch for the first few hours, and I probably slept for an hour of it, in 10 or 15 minute intervals. But I was so afraid she might fall that I couldn't manage anything besides a light nap, and every time she moved even a little, it would startle me awake, and I'd find myself lunging forward to grab a hold of her legs. Rodolfo's attempt at sleep went just about the same, and I think he slept maybe 15 minutes the whole time. Luckily, when Caitlyn woke up about an hour before we landed, she was in a pretty good mood. I wasn't sure what to expect after her crappy night's sleep. My dad picked us up from the airport and hung around to watch Caitlyn for a couple of hours while Rodolfo and I napped. That was yesterday. Unfortunately, Caitlyn's lack of a good night's sleep did catch up with her (also the time difference- only an hour but it was like doing daylight savings time all over again, and she tends to go to bed late anyway), and she spent half the day napping. Which meant that she didn't go to bed till almost 1am. I had to be up at 7 and I'm still trying to recover from my sleepless night on Saturday. So I am still very tired. A big reason I started writing this post right away was so I wouldn't doze off at my desk. Anyway, there you have it. Plane trips with babies can be pretty shitty. I will be posting more with all the fun stuff and pictures soon.