That La Kid

wishin' an' hopin'!

2012 in review

The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2012 annual report for this blog.

Here’s an excerpt:

600 people reached the top of Mt. Everest in 2012. This blog got about 3,300 views in 2012. If every person who reached the top of Mt. Everest viewed this blog, it would have taken 6 years to get that many views.

Click here to see the complete report.

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bruce’s first visit

 

I’d like to say that Bruce wasn’t all that impressed with Disney World, but you know… I think, actually, he was.  He was impressed with the things he saw and the stuff he heard, the sweet smells of Main Street and lots and lots of time with Daddy, Grandpa, Gran, Aunty Cray Cray and Uncle Haley.  I think he was actually very impressed.

I’ve said all along that I would withhold judgement on other mommies until after I had put in my time.  Well, now that we’ve spent our 10 days running around with the stroller, let the criticizing of others commence.

It’s not that difficult, people.  It’s really not.

Halfway through the trip we traded our diaper bag for a backpack.  Tom said it’s much less convenient during changing time – and he may be right.  But it was a whole lot easier to carry.

Baby swap was a snap, when we needed it.  Half the time, Gran and Grandpa weren’t interested in taking their ride turn.  They just wanted all the Bruce they could get.

Not ONCE did I change Bruce in full view (and smell) of throngs of tourists.  Don’t have to.  There is a little piece of heaven on Earth called the Baby Care Center at each park.  Even if the Baby Care Center is by Pizzafari and you’re over at Chester and Hester’s in Dinoland, USA, the bathrooms are all clean and big and just really nice.  And I have learned since having a kid that they are kind of predictable.  Feed him, he’s going to poop.  So, we feed him, change him and do whatever we want to do until it’s time to eat again.

You know what irritates me more than anything else?  Strollers.  I guess they irritate me as much as bad drivers.  I wonder if there is some correlation between people who suck at driving cars and people who suck at driving strollers.  It’s not that complicated.  Disney has the most sophisticated system that I’ve ever seen anywhere for handling the stroller derby.

 

MGM3_prefRes

At the Hollywood Hills Amphitheater, where they perform Fantasmic for you and 8199 of your closest friends nightly (sometimes two shows), there is a stroller parking lot with numbered rows.  It was incredible.  Anyway, Tom took the baby and threw the diaper back-pack over his shoulder while I went and tossed the stroller in the lot.  It’s not that tough.  I watch other people struggle with it and it’s like watching an infomercial.  All the other ways to remove the hair from your legs are just too tough.  The one lady gets hot wax all over her entire bathroom, the other one cuts herself… yeah, maybe that’s because she’s not standing in the shower and the shave gel is on a dry leg – but I digress.  Watching other people deal with their own stroller is very similar to watching one of those infomercials where the person just can’t figure it out.  That miracle product you’re looking for?  That’d be a brain.  It’s not that difficult!  Pass the baby to someone for a second, fold up your stroller.  B’BAM!  Done.  You KNOW you’re going to have to take all of your crap out of it before you fold it up – so, hey – don’t put a bunch of crap in it!

Sheesh.

There was one lady, and I’m not talking shit about her – I feel bad, but anyway there was this one lady that had a real rough go of it.  She was probably my mom’s age.  She was a grandma, but her grandson was way older than Bruce.  Still in a stroller, though.  So, anyway… we are waiting for the Old Key West bus on night at Epcot.  We didn’t have the baby that night.  No stroller.  When we got to the bus stop she was the only one there.  She got on the phone and was cussing the crap out of somebody.

The bus pulls up.

She immediately went into, “Well, I don’t see why you can lift those wheelchairs up and down all day but I have to take him out of the stroller…”

(Remind me to complain about the wheelchairs in a minute.)

The bus driver just kept saying, “It’s federal law, I’m so sorry, it’s federal law.”  She just did NOT want to fold that stroller.  Some beefcake walks over in an orange reflective vest and is all, “is there a problem here?”  The bus driver kind of motions at him behind the lady’s back that it’s okay.  Eventually she takes the kid and gets on the bus while the driver and the beefcake try to fold the stroller with everything in it.  They take out some Disney bags and start putting clothes from the stroller basket into the bag and there are not one but two foam swords for this one little boy and his Kidcot Perry thing…. just a mess.  She is slamming stuff around and she looks at us and says, “you all are going to have to wait!”  We didn’t care.  Clearly she was having a bad night.

We all eventually got on the bus.  Tom and I talked about how unhelpful we were and how embarrassing it was for all parties involved.  At the first stop, our stop, we walked up to the front of the bus and sat beside her and told her we’d be happy to help.  She was crying.  She said they just left her.  Her daughter went to get her purse and when she couldn’t find her way back to wherever they were she just went back to the resort.  Left her kid and everything.  The kid had been playing in the fountains so he was in his underwear wrapped in a blanket.

When we got to the bus stop, the daughter was waiting.  As she got up Tom and the bus driver helped with the stroller, I grabbed the wet clothes and swords… then here comes the daughter.  Yanking the stuff from our hands, she said, “Sorry I’m a bad MOM.”  The way she said it… I just… ::sigh:: I know it was a long night for that family.

Anyway.

At Hollywood Studios on another night, these ladies were struggling with their stroller in the tram line.  One lady, Auntie, was like twice as wide as I am.  There were two little girls.  They were all over the place.  The Cast Member loading the tram said that they needed to be behind the yellow line, looked at me and said, “someone should probably take their hand.”  My dad said very, very loudly, “They’re not ours!”  Their mom was like, “I think some of the cast members just get on too much of a power trip…”  I THINK YOUR BRATS NEED TO BACK THE F UP BEHIND THE YELLOW LINE.  Have you not been doing this all day?  I should give them some credit for folding up their stroller, but not until they had already missed one tram trying to do it.  Dad whispered that Auntie thought they were taking over our lane, too.  Anyway… “Ladies and gentlemen, lower your head and watch your step…” Dad and I jumped on immediately.  Tom got trapped behind them struggling with the stroller somehow.  Auntie cuts Tom off and jumps on the tram closing the door behind her.

Tom eventually got on, but not before Dad had to point out to Auntie that the tram seats seat 5 adults, and there were 3 adults and one little girl in ours.

This is basic stuff, folks.  Stay behind the yellow line.  How are you not conditioned by now?  Every attraction has a yellow line and someone is always trying to cross it and cast members have been saying, “behind the yellow line” to somebody in the room all day.  How have you not learned?  The CM’s not on a power trip… he doesn’t want a lawsuit and job loss on his conscience because you couldn’t keep a handle on your kid.  And hey, if Auntie is as big as a house and you brought the stroller from hell, maybe you want to plan ahead and grab two rows, eh?  Or that double row in the front.  If you rode the bus TO the theme park and they made you fold up the stroller, guess what?!  Yeah!  You have to fold it up for the ride home, too!

We were champs.  We had a great team.  I grabbed the bag, Gran grabbed the baby, Tom folded the stroller and Haley ran it over to stroller parking.  Even when Haley and Mom weren’t with us, Tom and I handled it.

It’s not that complicated!  Handle it!

 

…so much more to post, stay tuned!

 

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december 7

…the day I put my mom’s ring back on!
IMAG0515

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you suck.

Judge Judy is on, but it’s a commercial.  Surely you’ve pooped by now.  I take you into the bathroom to change you, dunk you in the sink for good measure, put some Vaseline on your adhesion and put Desitin on your little butt AND THEN you poop.  Right there on the bathroom sink.  You suck.

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levine children’s hospital

I wrote Tom a note recounting our brief stay at Levine Children’s Hospital earlier this month.  I wrote it almost as soon as we got home because I didn’t want to risk forgetting things like I did when Bruce was born.  I’ve recounted his birth story with all the details more or less in tact, it just would have been nice to have the sheer emotion that we experienced in writing.

So, here are tidbits from a letter that I wrote Tom dated Friday, November 16.

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you suuuck

Mom and Haley think I should create a blog called, “YOU SUUUCK” in which I define all the things that suuuck.

If you play the Panthers game during prime time and then play the prime time programming during Judge Judy and Jeopardy, the ONLY two shows I actually watch on tv, YOU SUUUCK.

YOU SUUUCK, NBC.

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wendy la, you just celebrated thanksgiving…

Nothing gets my motor running like Disney Theme Park music.  My two favorite websites are Subsonicradio.com, which has links to open up the stations in itunes, and SRSounds.com, which plays right in the browser.

In two weeks, we are going to Disney World.  Me, Tom, Bruce, Gran, Grandpa, Aunt Lindsay, Uncle Haley and our Disney pals Michael and Alyssa.  Have I told you about Michael and Alyssa. I love them.  I do.  I spent a total of 15 minutes in their presence on the Magic Kingdom ferry one night.  I feel like I did tell you about them.

Meanwhile!

I’ve got a week until Kayce’s baby shower, so I’ve got to finish her gift.  Not to belittle the gifts she and Erika made, but I’ve found it’s much easier to be crafty when you’re not all like, craft-craft-craft-WAAAAH, MOM, I’M POOPY-craft-craft-craft-WAAAAH, MOM, I’M HUNGRY-craft-craft-craft-WAAAH, MOM, I’M TIRED OF MY SWING!

It’s literally something every freaking minute with this kid… he wants something all the freakin’ time.  I still love him, though. 🙂

So, anyway… there’s that, and I’d like to paint a wooden advent calendar that I bought on clearance last year.  I’d like to paint it before December starts and we are counting down.

I wouldn’t mind a clean house, either.  Haley’s boyfriend, Matt, came down and stayed at our house while we weren’t home.  All our electronics were stolen but the dishes were done.  Ha.  I was kidding about the first part, but dead serious about the second.  You’d expect the opposite from a young guy, right?  His parents did a good job.  He left us chocolates, too.  I’m trying to pace myself.

So there is a lot going on every day here at home.  The upstairs guest bedroom has become Christmas Closet Central.  Bruce has what I think is a penile adhesion.  So, we’re going to look into taking care of that, too.  This poor guy – always something with his most sensitive areas.  Breast feeding is, I think, on it’s way out for me.  I think.  When I do pump, I don’t get much and I’m spotting.  It’s sad, but it’s kind of like a really old person.  I don’t know what heroic measures I want to take to salvage it.  It’s relatively late in the game.  Bruce likes to fall asleep nursing, the whole process takes a really long time.  I really wish they hadn’t terrified me at the hospital about his weight loss and supplemented him with formula.  At this point, he’s 90% formula.  We’ve done some traveling and it’s inconvenient to nurse on the road.  We have to pull over, whereas with a bottle I can sit in the back seat and hold it for him while we are still making progress movin’ down the road.  It’s very awkward for me to nurse in public, and honestly, it’s easiest to completely disrobe.

It’s awful, but I keep wondering how I am going to stop every 2 and a half hours at Disney for a half hour to 45 minutes to breast feed with my parents and sisters in tow.  Awkward turtle… and I can already see Dad rolling his eyes like he does when we go with smokers.

Bruce seems healthy and handsome on his almost entirely formula diet as it is.  Might just have to chalk this one up to inexperience and try again with the next kid.

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October 19: the day I put my wedding band back on.

WOOOOOOO HOOOOOOOO!!!!

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who, me? oh, i’m just one bad mofo.

Thanks to my ability to finally do something relatively sit-up-esque on my own and all the steri-strips from my c-section falling off in the middle of the night last night (all of them, every single one – on their own, I didn’t rip them off – but it was time, they were due off today), I finally got my first look at my scar.  I panicked a little bit before I saw it.  What am I doing to my body, slicing and dicing it left and right?  What would God say about me butchering this body that he made for me?

Well, my anxiety was ridiculous.  This scar is ridiculous… ly tiny.  I’m serious, it looks like a little red hair across my pelvis, just a thin red horizontal line.  I’m amazed by how short it is, too.  It’s maybe 7? 8 inches long?  (That’s what she said.)  I can’t believe Dr. Wolanski pulled a person out of there.  The scar from Mr. Nasty is maybe 10 inches or a foot long, and zig zags vertically down my stomach and around my belly button down to my pelvic area.  It’s no wonder that when any doctor sees the Mr. Nasty scar his eyes bug out of his head.  I’ve told doctors before about having a big cyst, then lifted up my shirt later, during the exam, and they’re all like, “and what was THIS from?” implying that I didn’t reveal my entire medical history.  I paused, like, are you serious, and said, “Um… the CYST.”  It’s really unbelievable.  It is.  People see it, and they do not believe it.  Tom’s friends said things like, “my wife had 3 kids, none of them were that big,” and “you are officially the baddest mofo I know.”  Yeah.  Well…  He’s right, and I AM.

I texted Mom about my scar comparison and she just responded [Mr. Nasty] “Seriously was serious!”  I told her that might be my favorite text of all time.

I took pictures, but no one needs to see all that.  Yes, the scar is small… my gut is not.  (Although it’s nice to be instantly skinnier again – very much like after having a certain 15 lb. cyst removed.  I can see my feet!)

So, I’m proud and excited.  I feel a lot like I did after Mr. Nasty was removed: I CAN TAKE ON THE WORLD and I WANT TO GO TO DISNEY WORLD.  It’s nice to be sitting up unassisted.  Weening off pain medicine.  I feel good.

In other news: Breastfeeding is tough!  I should have been tipped off when the nurses and lactation specialists at Martha Jefferson said, “don’t give up” and stuff like that.  Bruce is a good little sucker, but my supply is pretty measly.  It got up to about 2 ounces at one point the week that Mom was here, but it has declined ever since.  I’m lucky to get an ounce every 3 hours.  That’s not enough for this growing boy, so we’ve been supplementing with formula.  I am blaming it on lack of nutrition (I generally just eat dinner, maybe a snack or two in the afternoon… I know, right?  Awful.) and lack of my mommy here taking care of me and things around the house.  Gosh, that was nice.  I haven’t talked enough about how wonderful it was to have Mom here.  I keep meaning to devote a blog post to recapping our week together.  It was just nice to have someone make me a peanut butter sandwich and walk the dog.  Everyone in the house was content, and we never got back into the groove after she left.

Anyway, as far as the breastfeeding… I’ve got a plan.  Eat more.  Drink more.  We’ll see how that does.  I had a good sized lunch, fed Bruce, pumped a tiny bit, then had a bowl of oatmeal (gross!) and orange juice and a whole lot of water so we’ll see how we do.  Bruce lost a whole lot of weight because I have no clue what a growing boy needs… so, we’re working on beefing him up.  At two and a half weeks old, he’s a little over his birth weight today.  Yikes.  But… he is gaining at a steady rate.  Mommy and Daddy are new at this, but we’re figuring it out.

Just hope the little guy doesn’t starve to death in the process.

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10 months

Just sayin’.

 

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