Author: Julie

Baby Girl please put your shoes on. “I AM, MOM.” When the hell did my three year old turn into a teenager?! She calls me Mom more often than Mommy. She basically rolls her eyes when I tell her to do something – just hasn’t quite mastered the technique yet. “I AM” is one of her favorite new phrases. Baby Girl eat your dinner – I AMMMMMM. Baby Girl get in the car seat please – “I AMMMM!” Baby Girl please come on – it’s time to …. (any number of things) – her response is either “I AMM! or “I can’t. I’m busy.” In other words, leave me the hell alone. (She honestly probably picked that one up from me. Oops).

Now let’s add in some three year old tantrums to the teenage attitude. Also, absolute refusal to stop screaming and listen to Mommy (Mom). Finally, let’s continue whining and carrying on and repeating what you want 5000 times even though Mommy (Mom) is actually getting whatever it is that you are asking for. Example:

“I want water! I want WATER! I want WAAAATTTEEERRRR!” Baby Girl calm down I am getting you some water. See? Here I am with the cup heading to the fridge…. “WAAAAA I want WATER! WAAAAA WATER! I want water!” Look, Lovie – water is actually coming out of the fridge and into your cup. Pretty soon you will have some water. “WAAAA I WANT WATER!! I WANT WATER! I WANT WATER!” Look Kid I’m about to pour this water over your precious little head if you don’t shut it. “I want WAAAA…. sniff sniff… ” takes the cup from my hand and drinks as if she’s been deprived of water for three days.

The repeating thing drives me bat shit crazy. “What are doing Mommy?” I’m working baby. “Oh. What you doing Mom?” Um. Working. “Mommy what are you doing?” I’M WORKING FOR THE LOVE OF GOD.

“Where’s Daddy?” He’s at work Lovie (or he’s asleep, or he’s in the barn, or outside….). “Oh. What’s Daddy doing?” Baby I just told you. “Oh.” Five minutes later… “where’s daddy?” He’s still working (or sleeping or ….). “OK. What’s Sissy doing?” And on and on it goes. All day long. Until I want to stick a pitchfork through my ears.

Here’s another favorite: “Mom I want to watch Mouse.” OK Lovie let me put it in for you. “No not THAT one!” OK which one? “Um that one.” This one? “Yes.” I start to put it in the DVD player, get it all set up and push play. “NOT THAT ONE MOMMY!” Baby I just asked you which one! “No THIS one!” Fuming, I take out one DVD and put THIS one in. And she’s happy. For about 10 minutes. Then more often than not she’ll come bring me yet a different DVD and say “I want to watch this one.” And I roll my eyes (she’ll figure it out soon) and say too bad – watch the one that’s in there. Then I brace for the screaming, shrieking fit that is sure to follow. Because she can’t just meekly say “Ok Mommy.” She has NEVER just meekly agreed to my instructions or suggestions. That is so not her style. Even if I’m right. (Remind you of your teenager? I thought so.)

So here I am enjoying life with an actual teenager and a threenager. Yesterday I literally sat on the floor of Barnes and Noble while Baby Girl was blessedly with Ms. Troy and Mati, and I perused the parenting section. Alas, no books on the threenager. But plenty of books on how to parent boys (are they harder?!), books on raising a self confident kid (not a problem) , how to become tantrum free in three easy steps – yeah right – 800 potty training books – and finally…. “The SH!T NO ONE TELLS YOU ABOUT TODDLERS.” Ding ding ding!!! A book full of other moms telling you their horror stories, how bad they suck at parenting, how they figured shit out, and how they cope. No holds barred on explaining how toddlers are like well educated pomeranians, or angry monkeys. Moms admitting how they want to leave their kids in the produce aisle and just walk away. Moms that understand that wine is an adult food group. I am loving this book. Can I just crawl under the covers today in a dark room with a flashlight and just read? Please?

Some people dream of beach vacations or hiking through the jungles of Costa Rica – I dream of sleeping in a dark room all alone with the door locked and someone else listening for the strains of “MOM! I can’t find my paccy! MOM! where is my snuggie? MOM! Cover me! MOM! I need water!! MOM I want to watch Mouse!” I just want to hide and whimper “I’m not your Mom.” But no one else will come out and say that the ARE her mom, so I guess it really is me.

When they are born they should hand you an extra large bottle of vodka and say “you’ll know when you need this.”

It’s an absolutely beautiful Fourth of July – 86 degrees and sunny. A bit of a breeze. In years past I’ve spent the day at Willie Nelson’s Fourth of July picnic, in Luckenbach, Texas, on Lake Ray Roberts, at the seawall in Galveston, at Lone Star Park, and with family and friends all over Texas, and once in Idaho.

Today I am in my office, while Baby Girl is watching Tangled for the one thousand seven hundred and seventy sixth time. My husband (lucky dog) is out on the property – mowing, adjusting, fixing, and contemplating future projects. He didn’t even have his phone on him. (Which I rectified of course.)

I would love to switch places with him today. Plain and simple, I miss my previous way of life. I miss spending the entire day on the property, surrounded by nature – surrounded by horses. I miss that a horse was the only thing I would communicate with the entire day – besides possibly the lady at the McDonald’s drive through when I took a break for some sweet tea. I miss that having a sweet tea every day did not make a difference to my waistline because I was so active… and younger.

I miss the ability to wake up at my own time, in my own way (hellloooo 5 am and my bright eyed toddler). I miss getting the day started at my own pace. I miss the early morning silence – three year olds do not care what time it is when they feel like shrieking. I miss the complete autonomy to do what I please, when I please. I miss being able to sit on the porch swing in the summer evening drinking a glass or two of wine and listening to music while watching the day turn to dusk.

I miss getting completely absorbed in my work, spending hours working on something and not even realizing what time it is. Not having to stop to answer questions, change bobo’s, put someone down for a nap or get them a drink.

I miss not having fourteen arguments a day about whether to use the blue spoon or the yellow fork, the pink bowl or the orange one, whether or not it’s bath time, or time to go inside, or time to go outside or time to drink. (Just kidding).

I miss all that – I admit it – and I would give anything to have a few of those days back again. Not every day… just once in a while. A day like today, when the sun is out and the breeze is cool and the horses are just begging for attention. When the lawn needs mowing and the barn needs sweeping and the afternoon is long and the evening is sweet.

The flag waving out in my front yard is my constant reminder that, while I may not to get spend many days exactly how I used to, I am still free and living in a great country and I get to celebrate my independence however I choose. Today I choose to be grateful and yet nostalgic for days gone by. I choose to be happy that I still DO get to be free — and that Baby Girl does too.

Happy Fourth of July everyone! I’ll have a drink for you tonight, America.

Every night as I put Baby Girl to bed – in her own room! – I sit and stare at the Dr. Suess print on the wall across from me. It’s hanging ever so slightly crooked. Every night I tell myself I should fix it – that I will fix it because it is annoying to me. Every single night I put her in bed and sneak out. And I forget. And the print is still hanging crooked.

For two weeks I reminded myself to remove the two tupperware containers full of over-ripe cut up watermelon from the refrigerator and clean them out. Every day I would forget to do it. One day as I was speed washing dishes I actually remembered. And because my stepdaughter was here I was able to say “BRING ME THE WATERMELON CONTAINERS!” Of course she showed it to me before she threw the fruit out in the yard. It had grown little frozen spikes and looked like something out of a horror movie.

The other day I actually had to dump out an almost entire bottle of wine. GASP! I had forgotten that it was in the other fridge for about a month (after having been opened of course) and boy, that sure didn’t taste right. Of course I tasted it! Wouldn’t you?! Who voluntarily throws out a whole bottle of wine that could possibly be consumed?! Not me.

Speaking of wine, I have a gift of a bottle of (thankfully and currently unopened) wine for my assistant trainer for something she did for me …. hmmm… maybe in May? Been so long I’ve forgotten that part too. Anyway, it’s also been in my fridge for however long that is, even though I keep telling her I’ll put it in the barn for her. It’s probably going to end up being my emergency go-to one of these days. Sorry kid. Maybe next time.

Last night I was giving a lesson and the mom said to me – can we come on Wednesday for an extra lesson – what do you have booked on Wednesday already? I looked at her blankly. Wednesday? Isn’t that like in two days? Lord, I don’t know. It’s a damn good thing I do a monthly calendar because otherwise I would not remember any of these lessons. As it was, I was already teaching Monday evening because I had forgotten that the lesson was supposed to be Monday morning. Totally my bad. Sorry about that.

I swear I’m not a terrible house keeper or a completely unorganized instructor. In fact, quite the opposite. I’m extremely reliable and pretty OCD about my house. Sometimes I just have to close my eyes to the ridiculous mess of Hurricane Toddler and Unconcerned Teenager. Seriously they are almost worse as teenagers as far as mess-making goes. The other day Unconcerned Teenager actually said to me “this house is a mess.” And I, after inwardly seething with resentment, returned with “this house is always a mess.” NOT TO MENTION it doesn’t matter how much you clean it – it will STILL BE A WRECK until people literally no longer live in it. I also wanted to say “CLEAN IT THEN” to Unconcerned Teenager. But I refrained. Barely. I just poured myself another glass and kept my mouth shut.

And, as far as lessons go – I used to be able to tell you a month out who was doing what, and when. These days? Not so much. The monthly calendar is my go-to, every morning. Now what the hell am I supposed to do today? I ask as I pour the first glass. Of Diet Coke! Don’t judge.

Turning 42 today. Feeling every damn bit of it. Forgotten what was the point of this blog post…

Baby Girl is asleep in her bed. In her room. This is no small feat. Currently, Sissy is in there with her, to encourage her to stay in her room. Last night was the first time I insisted she sleep in her own room. An hour of screaming, kicking, crying, tears, throwing things and finally succumbing to letting me rock her and she was asleep in her own bed for the first time in months. She stayed there until 4:20 a.m. at which point she came back in my room.

Tonight? A little bit of fuss but no screaming. 15 minutes instead of 60. HUGE progress. I am sure at some point she will be back in my bedroom but I am encouraged nonetheless. It has been a very long time since I’ve been able to sleep in my room without Baby Girl in it. Some parents may think that I shouldn’t mind if she’s in there, these same parents don’t mind if their child sleeps in their bed with them. These parents are probably a lot more relaxed and outgoing than I am. Frankly, I need my space. If I’m going to be a good parent, the best Mom I can be, then I NEED my child to sleep in her own room. Since my Baby Girl has been, essentially, pretty sick for a long time, she has been on my heels day and night. She has learned a lot of bad habits during this time, and it’s time to get things back under control. The very first step is night time separation.

In the aftermath of her surgery, everyone asks if she is sleeping better. And the honest truth, is No. She is not snoring, that is true. I am pretty sure she is breathing a hell of a lot better. But she still wakes up and wants me to “cover her” and looks for her paccy, and her snuggie, and generally wakes me up about 3 or 4 times per night. After two weeks of recovery, and realizing this, I am aware that the sleeping in my room thing is a bigger deal than I thought. Since I am now assured that the kid can actually breathe and won’t strangle on her own spit in the night, I am cutting the rest of the cord as well. Baby Girl, you’re going to have to suck it up and find your own paccy, your own snuggie, and cover your own self up. Mommy is done and Mommy is tired, and Mommy is finally saying enough.

I have ordered her a “big girl bed.” It’s adorable of course, with shelving on the head board and storage underneath. I know my cousin will be thrilled to have her crib back. Just as thrilled as my Dad will be to store it until he can deliver it to her. I look at it though, as “wow, another milestone. Another thing we are through with – the baby crib.” And it’s kind of sad. It follows the bottles and the sippy cups and the diapers (which we haven’t quite finished with and which I actually won’t miss). She already is a little girl and not a baby. It’s astonishing to think she is now 3 years old. She loves Rapunzel even though I swore I wouldn’t encourage the Disney Princess thing. She can put her own shoes on (she will even ask me which shoe goes on which foot). She can wash her own hands and brush her own teeth. She can find the Pringles no matter where I hide them. She’s amazing. She is capable of so much, I know she is capable of sleeping on her own.

After sleeping in her own room last night for the majority of it, she was much better behaved today. Only one major tantrum as opposed to three or four. She was able to choose which toy she wanted at the store and put the others back. She was able to consider what I said when I threatened her with taking away her newly bought zebra if she didn’t shape up in the car.

The power struggle with a three year old is very real. The tantrums are worse as well. Baby Girl will say she wants something – no the PINK one Mommy – and then immediately pretend she has no idea what you are talking about, she actually wants the BLUE one now. She will say she’s hungry and then you set dinner before her and she freaks out and starts having a tantrum in the middle of the living room and refuses to eat. You don’t even know why. She probably doesn’t know why.

Somehow Sissy is able to get her looking adorable each morning. When Mommy tries to get her dressed, Baby Girl usually ends up in a skirt and her pajama top. Honestly Sissy is going to be a great Mom someday. She doesn’t take any shit. Of course, she also lets Baby Girl eat crap all day, in the living room, making a tremendous mess. Anyway, I digress. I know I need to take a stand, both Baby Girl and I need more structure. More rules and less struggle. I think that getting Baby Girl in her own room for sleeping is the key. More space for me, and better sleep, means that I will not be too damn tired to enforce the rules that Baby Girl so desperately needs.

The Aftermath of Surgery has been a hurricane. I’m ready for some mild weather.

Day 9 after surgery. Currently listening to Disney Princess CD in a desperate attempt to pacify Baby Girl and pry her from my hip for twenty minutes. Sissy says she sounds different now. Friends have asked if her voice has changed. I wouldn’t know – unless her new voice is a high pitched whine which is all I’ve heard for the past nine days.

The surgery itself went well. Nurses kept her occupied with toys and colors before surgery. Baby Girl had no idea what was about to happen. Protested mightily at taking off her pj’s and putting on the hospital gown even though it was covered with puppies and kittens. Absolutely refused to put on the fuzzy socks. Once they got her slightly sedated off she went, barefooted, into the surgical area, where I could not follow. Thankfully my friend Charlotte was there to distract me. She and Tony and I ate McDonald’s breakfast in the waiting room and it wasn’t until she left that I felt the nerves kick in. Only had to wait about ten more minutes though until the surgeon came and told me she had done perfectly and would be going back to recovery very soon.

When they finally let Tony and I back to the recovery room Baby Girl was just coming out of the anesthesia and she was frantic. I was already taking my shoes off when the nurse said “Mama you can get in the bed with her.” I crawled in and tried to console her but she would not be consoled until she was laying on top of me and I was singing Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. She fell asleep on my chest. And the nurse had already given her her paccy back so my strategy of taking her paccy’s away (because I thought it would hurt to suck on them) fell completely flat. Amazingly, the doctor said it was perfectly fine for her to have them. So I just totally let it go. Still letting it go nine days later… probably will be letting it go for another few months. Maybe years.

That was just the beginning though. Once we finally made it up to a room, the nurse told us that she would be in quite a bit of pain for a good 7 to 10 days. I thought – no problem, I got this. At day 9 I can tell you – I don’t got this. It has been ROUGH. People ask how she’s doing and I hedge … she’s doing OK I say. The truth is she has major ups and downs. She’ll have a good few hours where’s she laughing and playing and happy. And then the other 22 hours of the day she’ll be whining, crying, laying on my chest, stuck to my hip and otherwise totally miserable. And I feel so bad for her but at the same time I’m thinking will this ever end?!

I have to say Cook Children’s Hospital is pretty neat. The pre-surgical area is just one big room with kids in cubicles and nurses and doctors everywhere. The word swarming comes to mind. I didn’t mind it – it was actually pretty interesting and distracting at the same time. They had teenagers or maybe young adults (I can hardly tell anymore) whose sole purpose it was to bring toys to the children. Very nice nurses, very nice people everywhere.

And the nurse in the room was great, too. I was completely surprised at how much we were NOT bothered. If she was asleep they let her sleep. There would be hours going by where I would not see a nurse at all. The first nurse we had let her eat anything she wanted. Even crackers and stuff like that. She also encouraged us to visit “The Zone” – the play area. Baby Girl wasn’t ready for The Zone the first time we went. She just cried until I took her back to the room. The second (night) nurse did not want Baby Girl to eat anything except soft stuff and she had the harder job of administering more medications that were yucky. But we survived and Daddy arrived to take us home the next morning by 10. She slept the entire way home. AND SHE DID NOT SNORE.

Baby Girl is no longer snoring when she sleeps. This stresses me out because I am so used to listening to her while she sleeps that now I have to lean over and look at her and even put my hand on her chest to make sure she’s ok! Because, yes, she is still sleeping in mommy’s room.

Very slowly she is improving. We are just taking it day by day. Some things that have taken me by surprise –

1. Her breath. Holy Mother of God it’s like something died in there. Which I suppose it did. But couldn’t someone have warned me? Sonic doesn’t have enough mints for this!
2. The surgeon did not come check on her the next morning. We have a follow up appointment in four weeks (well three now). I guess she’s supposed to be perfectly fine between the surgery itself and the follow up appt a month later.
3. The lack of instruction regarding care at home. It was only days later that I discovered in my original packet from the doctor that I received at our “sleep study results” appointment the post-surgery instructions and care. Did not realize that was in there. Totally winging it before then.
4. The drastic change in my Baby Girl. She has lost weight, doesn’t want to eat, spent a week being constipated, and is sleeping without snoring but still wakes up from pain. I am still praying and hoping another few days will make a world of difference for her and we will come through this having learned a lot and with a new and healthier zest for life.

In my usual fashion I was completely prepared up to the day of the surgery without any thought of what happens afterwards. If anyone ever tells you that your child needs her tonsils out – yes, she probably does – but BE PREPARED. I wasn’t.

Thanks for the wine, Dad.

Options for pediatric sleep studies are few and far between. There were basically two options in the entire Dallas area. The first one I called wanted $3300 for their time. The second one quoted $900. There seems to be a little discrepancy here between what is actually the exact same procedure. One goes through insurance… one does not. I bet you can figure out which is which. But that is a different topic, for another time.

Obviously, I chose the $900 study. Everything takes its sweet time of course, and about a month after the ENT appointment we were finally on our way to do the sleep study. I had zero idea what to expect. The first surprise was that we were to arrive at 8:30 pm. Baby Girl will already be asleep by then I said. They weren’t concerned. 8:30 is the earliest time you can arrive. No one is here before then. Well alrighty then, I guess we will figure it out. At 7:30 pm, after an exceedingly long day, we are in the car ready to tackle the unknown. Baby Girl wants to know where we are going in the dark. We’re going to sleep in a hotel! I say. Since she doesn’t know what a hotel is, she just looks at me sideways and then goes to sleep.

The place is pitch black when we arrive. No lights anywhere – and I can’t even figure out where the entrance is. I do a reconnaissance around the building. Leaving Baby Girl asleep in the car I go up to a door and press the buzzer. Finally a light comes on and the nurse/receptionist/technician person comes to the door. Hi, she whispers. And I have totally forgotten what her name is, so we’ll just call her Annette. Hi, I whisper back. The kid is asleep and I need to bring all the stuff in. I lug all our sleeping must haves through the front door and go back to get Baby Girl, who sleepily snuggles into my arms before spying the stranger waiting at the door. WHO IS THAT? Hi whispers Annette to Baby Girl – what’s your name? I can’t really figure out why we are whispering right now, as there is no one else around, but I go along with it. Baby Girl just stares and says nothing.

Annette leads us through the building, whispering the entire time – showing us the bathrooms and the technician’s room and finally to our “hotel room.” The place is basically shaped like a circle once you get through the main reception area. The rooms are arranged so that the technicians can see all the door numbers. There’s only four sleeping rooms total. So I guess that the same technician does all four rooms in a night. She has a helper, whom we will call John. John is a super nice guy – obviously has kids of his own and Baby Girl warms right up. Annette is a little high strung (even though she is whispering) and she strikes me as being a complete control freak. Which is probably very necessary in what she has to do. She obviously requires John’s help but is somewhat put out that he even needs to be there.

Baby Girl has fallen asleep in my arms again while we are waiting for things to get started. But when I lay her on the bed she wakes up again. The room is kind of cool – pretty much like a hospital/hotel room. Normal full size bed, carpet, a chair and lamp to one side and a phone and that’s it. A TV on the wall that we never turn on. I was expecting a more sterile looking environment – stainless steel gurney and “nurse” standing over us with an injection looking sinister. I’m relieved to find a cozier atmosphere. Baby Girl is completely unfazed by any of it. She has barely said a word. Just looked around with interest and showed John her stuffed kitty.

They start putting all the electrodes and belts and things all over Baby Girl. She literally just sits there and lets them do it. Annette says “wow what an even tempered girl!” Too which I reply – after a moment of stunned silence – “No she’s not usually. At all.” But she’s basically asleep anyway and she is being SO GOOD. I can’t believe it. She lets them put all the electrodes on and they even have to press this goo on her head to keep the electrodes from falling off and then tape on top of that and she doesn’t utter a sound. She watches, and even helps by handing them the little cords and lines that they need to hook up. They put the oxygen thing on her finger and she thinks that’s the coolest thing ever. It lights up like ET (not that she’s ever seen ET of course) and she keeps showing John how neat it is.

Finally they wrap this gauze all over her head and everything is hooked up and it’s time for sleeping. I’m just amazed at how much crap is all over my Baby Girl – and how well she’s taking it. So they turn out the lights and she snuggles up to me and falls asleep within 10 minutes.

As usual, Baby Girl wakes up multiple times and snores and everything else she normally does. At one point she wakes up, stands up and turns around and then lays back down. Leaving her totally tangled up in the wires. Another time she rolls dangerously close to the edge of the bed. Both times nurse Annette comes in to fix things. Obviously I am awake and keeping watch over my fledgling. The gauze does not stay on her head. The oxygen thing does not stay on her finger. Eventually Annette moves it to her foot. Somehow the night passes. At 6:30 in the  morning Annette bellows over the loudspeaker that it’s time to wake up – WTF happened to the whispering?! – and Baby Girl FREAKS OUT. Later I find out that when the good morning call came, Baby Girl was in one of only two REM stage sleeps. And that she was wrenched out of it. Poor thing. It’s almost funny, now. When Baby Girl’s heart rate (and Mama’s!) finally slowed down Annette and John were able to take all the crap off of her. Baby Girl even helped. Only a couple whiny moments where the tape pulled her skin.

As we left that morning Baby Girl was in a great mood, happy and smiling and singing in the car. I, however, was totally drained. At least one of us slept!

After another month we finally got to learn the results. Baby Girl woke up 41 times in the night. She stopped breathing for more than 10 seconds 11 times. Her oxygen levels were too low. She had only two REM sleep periods, for about 30 minutes each. All in all, terrible results. Her physician said that the tonsils must come out, and the adenoids, and let’s put in ear tubes since we’ll be there anyway.

So wish us luck, say a prayer, cuz Monday morning we’re on our way to Cook Children’s hospital in Ft. Worth.

Baby Girl is having surgery at the end of this month. Tonsillectomy, adenoidectomy and ear tubes inserted. Eleven days before her third birthday. This is going to be a big deal. She will have to stay in the hospital overnight and it will take approximately 7-10 days for her to recover, I’m told. Hell, I was 30 when I had my tonsils out and it took me 45 days to recover! It SUCKED. I’m grateful for the reduced recovery time for my 2/3 year old – my sanity would be severely tested if it took her 45 days. I would expect you all to work out who was going to bring me a bottle of wine each day.

This has all been a long time coming….

Baby Girl has had sleep issues since she was very small. We would go through periods of “good sleeping” and “bad sleeping” – the length of the “bad sleeping” far outdid the length of the “good sleeping.” I read books on sleep training, we had our nightly rituals, I did it all just right. To no avail really. She has woken up multiple times a night and either cried, gotten out of bed, refused to sleep, or, very rarely, gone back to sleep on her own almost every night for the past two years. In any case, I was awake every single time. We recognized that she had trouble breathing at night – I thought it was allergies. I switched her pillow out in case it was full of dust and/or mold. She snores. Loudly and persistently. She is often cranky during the day. She doesn’t like to sleep alone.

Her original pediatrician never said a word about her enlarged tonsils. But one day – maybe she was yawning – I noticed how big they are. They are so large they almost touch. At first I thought that tonsils maybe were things that started out large and you grew into them. But then she started getting sick a lot. LOTS of colds, sinus issues, drainage, ear infections and coughing. Lord, the coughing. She coughs anytime she is laying down. She coughs in the car seat, especially if she falls asleep, she coughs while she is eating, she will cough so much she gags herself. She will cough so much that she wakes herself up. And then she cries.

I had her at her new physician’s office one day because of a cold or something and she took one look in her mouth and said to me “has anyone ever told you her tonsils are huge?” And I said um no. They’re not normal? She kindly explained that no, the tonsils are not supposed to be so large that they interfere with her breathing. And her swallowing. And her daily life. You should take her to a Pediatric ENT she tells me. Lightbulbs are exploding all over my head.

So after the many weeks it took me to find a Pediatric ENT anywhere near here, we went 45 minutes down I-35 EAST (HOLY SHIT I HATE THAT ROAD) while Baby Girl fussed and fretted in the back seat. Once we get there, they have a great little play area. So great, that Baby Girl has no intention of leaving the play area after having spent nearly an hour in the car to go with some lady she has never seen before. I pick her up, while she is protesting loudly, and we go with the nurse. The doc seems nice. He has a great manner with the kids. Baby Girl starts laughing and having a good time. He says to me that her tonsils are exceedingly large – does she snore? Yes? I’m silently berating myself for how long it took me to figure out there is something really wrong. He looks in her ears – “I bet she has some hearing loss” he says. Wait, what?! No, Doc, she hears fine – I swear. Even though she failed her newborn hearing test three times – she can now hear me try to silently open a piece of chocolate from down the hallway. He says “remind me to do a hearing test after you have the sleep study done – I’m willing to bet she has hearing loss with this amount of fluid in her ears.” But her ears don’t hurt, I argue – she doesn’t complain. Well, he patiently explains, her ears are not currently infected, but they are clearly not draining correctly. Because there is fluid in them. Oh, I say meekly. I see.

He says we need to have Baby Girl do a sleep study. I stupidly ask “they do that for kids?”. Even though I know the answer, I am stalling while my brain is trying to figure out why it took me 2 years and 8 months to get to this point. My mom and brother both have sleep apnea – surely it should’ve occurred to me that Baby Girl could have the same issue. I’m told it isn’t exactly the same – Baby Girl probably has obstructive sleep apnea. Meaning she is basically choking on her own tonsils. Nice. That’s something you always want to hear about your precious one. That would, however, explain the chronic coughing. Also, he throws in for good measure – if she’s got obstructive sleep apnea, it will lead to behavioral problems and issues in school. Hmmm. I think we’re already there with the behavioral problems. I mean, I know she’s a toddler, but honestly she is a very difficult and cranky toddler an awful lot of the time. Maybe some of that can be explained by lack of correct sleep?!

As we leave the ENT’s office I am both reassured and horrified. None of this sounds like a walk in the park, none of it sounds like something I want my Baby Girl to endure. But maybe, just maybe, if we get through all this Baby Girl will actually learn to sleep well. And maybe we will all be happier.

Coming soon – the actual sleep study and results. Meanwhile, here is an adorable picture of Baby Girl sacked out one day in her Sissy’s bed.

It’s been awhile, I know. It’s been so long that WordPress changed the entire make up of my site and I didn’t even know. There’s a good reason it’s been a long time since I’ve posted.

I was tired. Worn out. Barely functioning.

Today I have a break. My hubby and Baby Girl have gone off to visit the grandparents. Leaving me here to DO WHATEVER I WANT. Bliss. Heaven. Time to myself, to rejuvenate, to renew, to re-energize. I had looked forward to today (and tomorrow!) for about two weeks. Holding on to the thought of being alone for two days as my sanity waned and threatened to give out. These two days were my life-line – my rope. And I made it. After a hellish weekend I woke this morning, early of course, to pack their bags and send them off with a happy wave. Let me know when you get there! Have a great time! Love you!

Immediately sat down and wrote a looonnnggg list of everything I wanted to accomplish. Now, last time I got to be alone for two days I sat on my couch and barely moved. But this time, oh ho! I had a plan. A plan to actually get a bunch of things done that I have wanted to do for ages. I knew I would get to spend more than 5 minutes at a time working on something without being interrupted, I could go in and out of the house as I pleased and I could decide at the last minute if I wanted to do something else. Those of you who have young children KNOW what I’m talking about. “Baby Girl, Mama needs to work on this one thing for a little bit.” NOOOOOO MAMA I NEED YOU! I thirsty! I hungy! I have to potty! “OK Baby Girl, hold on and I will help you. OK here you go – all set?”

Three to seven minutes later…. MAMA?! Pway me, mama! Pwease?! MAMA?! MAMA get up! MAMA pwwwwweeeeeaaaaasssssseeeeeee! Sigh. “Baby Girl – 5 mins ok?” NOOOO! MAMAMAMAMAMMAMA. “OK OK! I’m coming!” An hour later – “OK Baby Girl we’ve played and ate and drank and done the potty and brushed your teeth at noon and fed the cat and now Mama is going to do some work.” OK Mama. 

One… two… three… Mama? “Yes Lovie?” Mama go outside? “Not right now Lovie.” Baby Girl disappears. Things get quiet. I can hear her reading her books to her dolls. Then silence. Five minutes pass. I can’t concentrate. What on earth is she doing so quietly? I’d better go see. Peek around the corner. Baby Girl sees me and grins. Mama I color! Groan. Baby Girl is coloring all over her wooden puzzle pieces. Getting out the magic eraser now…

And on it goes. Just like that. For the ENTIRE day. And of course, it’s not entirely Baby Girl either. There’s lots of other things that wear me out. Emotionally, especially. Sometimes when I tell my husband that I want to lie down for awhile, it’s not necessarily because I’m tired enough to sleep. It’s because I want to escape. Escape from everything I constantly have to think about and deal with and handle. Just an hour in that cool, dark, quiet room does wonders for my productivity and attitude.

But today? Today I got to do a hundred tiny things that made me happy. And I got to do them in silence, all by myself. I went outside and checked on my trees – are they growing ok? I put fly predators out in the pasture – just walked around our entire property. I did laundry in peace. I cleaned out the fridge and the pantry. Then I got in the car and I ran errands all alone – no Baby Girl in the backseat whining or threatening to hurl. No feeling like I had to hurry back home again so that hubby could go mow paddocks or work on the fencing or the myriad of other constant projects we have around here. No having to come back early to pick up Baby Girl or teach a lesson.

And it’s just simple stuff really – Walmart, the bank, the AT&T store. Hell I even got a haircut. Tomorrow I may even get a pedicure! The possibilities are endless! Tomorrow I get to sleep late! Well, you know, 7 am or so. The horses still have to be fed. But still – I can wake up without a small child saying Mommy? Mommy, watch Mouse? at 6 am. I can wake up and just lay there for awhile if I want to. I can’t even explain to you how ecstatic I am about that. Whenever I do decide to get up I can eat my breakfast without having to share. I can go out and feed the horses without having the usual fight over getting dressed. I can come back inside without the insistence that we stay outside and swing. In fact I hardly want to go to bed tonight because then tomorrow will come, and then Wednesday and then my loves will be home and then all this “me time” will be over, until next time.

But I sure will be happy to see my Baby Girl and her Daddy!

It’s 10 am. Baby Girl likes to play hide and seek. She’ll get all serious, start whispering and put her finger to her lips – shhhh she tells me, we need to hide! But if we hide Baby Girl, who is going to find us? Daddy will! she says. Sure he will Baby, in a few hours when it occurs to him to look for us.  We’re in her bedroom, playing. She opens the closet door and yanks and tugs my arm until I agree to hide in the closet. I sit down in the closet with my back against the wall (this is starting to feel a little weird) and she begins to cover me with stuffed animals. What’s this? She asks. That’s a fla-min-go. Fa-mingo? Yep, that’s right. Fa-mingo goes in my arms. As well as Duck, Bunny, pink puppy, big puppy, plastic giraffe, little white horse, and a pink and blue hat on top of my head to complete the disguise.

Ok shhhhh!! I find you! She closes the door and I sit in the darkness. Hey this isn’t so bad, I think. I don’t mind playing hide and seek. Sit in the quiet peaceful darkness in the closet, away from everything? Right up my alley! Five seconds go by. Then, crrreeeaaakkk – door starts to open. I wait patiently. She jumps in and “I find you!!!” she screeches. Yep you found me alright. Why don’t we play again Baby? You leave me here and go do something else for awhile and come find me again in an hour, ok? OK Mama! 10 seconds this time. “I FIND YOU!” Damn. Not exactly what I had in mind.

1o:30 am. Now we’re on to counting pennies. Fascination with her Owl Bank and putting the pennies in and taking them out again. No use at all for the three $5 dollar bills she has received from her Godparents. She tosses those aside. Pennies are much more entertaining than $5 bills! If only we all could be so easy to please as regards money. I manage to sneak out while she’s counting “1, 2, 5, 7…2, 11, 8…”

11:15 am. I am happily sorting laundry (why do people complain about laundry? I don’t mind it at all – almost immediate gratification and relaxing as well) when Baby Girl has decided she’s done counting. I think it’s been at most 5 minutes. Mama! Dance me! Jump me! Monkey on the bed! Pwease?! Little hands up under her chin and sweetly tilting her head to one side and looking up at me under her eyelashes. Little conniver. OK I say, let’s go jump. So I hold her hands and sing “Five little monkeys jumping on the bed” for what seems like eternity while she jumps up and down on the chaise in my office. I’ll be singing “one fell off and bumped her head” all night now. Instead of sleeping. Mama I hungy!! I swear this kid should be growing like a weed considering how much she eats. But she’s still tiny. So we go find pea-butter and cwackers and yogurt.

11:45 am. Once she’s happily eating and watching “Mouse” I sneak off to do some more work. I’m busily working on the computer in my office when it occurs to me that it’s awfully quiet. I can hear Mouse but nothing else. Damn I think. I have to go investigate. She’s no longer eating her pea-butter. She’s not in the living room. She’s not in the playroom. Ah ha! She’s in her bedroom reading her books out loud to her babies. Awww. So sweet! I’ll just watch silently for a min… ah crap, she saw me peak around the door. MAMA!! Come wead me! Sigh. So much for getting any work done. But there’s no way you can NOT go investigate when your almost 3-year old is being eerily quiet. Because chances are she’s not sweetly reading to her babies. You’ll usually find her coloring on something that isn’t paper. Or covering herself in yogurt. Or giving her dolls a bath. Or trying to brush the cat’s teeth. Investigating the silence is imperative.

12:30 pm. OK Baby, I’ve read 12 books, I need to go do some work. It’s nap time, isn’t it? NOOOOOOO no nap, I not sweepy, I wake up! Tantrum starts to escalate due to the threat of my undivided attention being taken away. Baby, I say, it’s sleepy time. NOOOOOO! I can’t! I can’t sweep! OK how about you go do the laundry and clean the house and run the business, and I’ll sleep. I don’t mind. She just stares at me, still crying. Eventually I get her to go to sleep. In my bed, with all her “stuff” – which includes blankie, snuggie, multiple paccy’s, Mouse, little mouse, Kitty and sippy cup (water – don’t freak out). No socks, no pants. This kid has a lot of requirements.

1:30 pm. Thirty minutes later I hear little feet padding down the hall. REALLY?! THIRTY MINUTES?! Sigh. This is going to be a very long day…..

Grandparents are one of life’s greatest blessings. They love their grandchildren with a passion you just can’t find anywhere else. There is something magical about the way they interact with their grandbabies, you can see them practically turn back into children themselves, such is the joy at being so unconditionally loved by these tiny creatures.

Grandbabies get away with everything when grandparents are around. Undivided attention plus sugary snacks equals a Baby Girl that doesn’t want to come home.

Baby Girl’s Granny and Pa Pa are two of her favorite people. They were originally intended to be Grandma and Grandpa, but you know little kids have their own ideas of what these two crazy old folks are to them. And my Dad (Pa Pa) still insists on Grandpa – he needs to just give it up cuz Baby Girl is completely stuck on Pa Pa. And HE calls her Fu Fu. So personally I think they’re quits.

Baby Girl has adored Granny and Pa Pa since day 1. My dad can be a little intimidating – especially when he hasn’t shaved in five months and looks like a starved grizzly bear out for his next meal – but this didn’t put Fu Fu off in the slightest. She took to him immediately. Maybe she knew that you should automatically love the man who buys all the diapers. Pa Pa does a lot of crazy things for his grandkids. He set up a zip line in the back yard – he put in a massive playground type structure in his back forty – he built a pier over the tank for feeding the fish – he put a “hold on” bar across the four wheeler so he could take all the kids for a ride at once (thus no arguing about who’s turn it is). When my brother and I were kids we didn’t have a zip line. Just saying.

And Granny can be summed up like this – Baby Girl is at home with me and sees an advertisement for cookies on the TV. Baby Girl says “Mama I need a cookie.” I say No. Baby Girl immediately comes back with “I need Granny. I need to go to Granny’s house.” Baby Girl is no fool. She knows who is going to give up the cookies. When Baby Girl sees Granny she takes her hand immediately and leads her off to play. At that point I cease to exist. If she needs her pullup changed, Granny has to do it. She needs a bath? Granny. She needs to get dressed? Granny. She wants to color? Granny.

When we got in the truck the other day to go to the horse show in Tyler, Baby Girl asked every five minutes for Granny. Granny’s house? Granny? Go to Granny’s? I need Granny! And every once in awhile she’d throw in a Pa Pa for good measure. Just to let me know he wasn’t forgotten. About two hours into the drive I turned to Sissy and said that I shouldn’t have told her we were going to see Granny until about five minutes before we got there. She refused to sleep on the drive up. But the instant she got into Granny’s car to go back to the house (from the show grounds) she fell asleep. Secure and happy with the fact that she was finally with her beloved Granny and Pa Pa.

Baby Girl doesn’t have tantrums when she’s with Granny and Pa Pa. I mean, tantrums aren’t necessary when you are getting everything your heart desires the very second your heart desires it. As soon as I show up, though, and start being the Mommy, the meltdowns ensue. Mommy insists on bathtime instead of playtime and bedtime instead of watching cartoons. Mommy is not any fun at all. But it’s a relief to know that Baby Girl is safe and happy when I am working. She’s having the time of her life. Granny and Pa Pa will probably need about a week to recover but I know they cherish the time they have with Baby Girl. It’s nice to be adored isn’t it?

Being an older mom, I do wonder if I will ever get this opportunity. How old will I be when Baby Girl has babies of her own? It’s not something I really worry about, but it crosses my mind. My own parents are older, too, and I pray every day that they’ll be around to watch Baby Girl grow up. I never knew either of my grandfathers, so that relationship is particularly special to see.

And the most important reason Baby Girl needs to spend time with Granny and Pa Pa? It gives Mommy a guilt free break! And Mommy rejoices over that.