Coop had a terrible stomach bug this past winter - it seemed to last forever. He would only get sick at night, he would wake up puking and then sleep the rest of the night on the bathroom floor.
I have to get my couch professionally cleaned because one night we both fell asleep on the couch - I thought ahead and placed towels on the floor and a trash can in the center of the towels, there was no way I was going to have to scrub puke for the 5th night in a row. Sure enough he woke up heaving and I flung him the direction of the trash can and as I turned around to grab a handtowel from the ottoman, he turned around too - to face the couch, you know, instead of the trashcan. BLAMMO puke everywhere that there wasn't a towel.
Long story short - puke.
After he was better and I was done cleaning up puke and shit from every surface of my house I decided I could go back to the gym and put him in the childcare there. My workout partner Erin is hardcore bad ass and she apparently has a super secret hate on me because she killed me. A couple of times. There's photographic proof.
After she was done using my corpse as a sweat towel I set my sights on the door because on the other side of that door was cold air that was going to revive me and also keep me from puking. I picked up Coop and headed home. As I pulled into the driveway I took a moment to evaluate myself and really think about my options - puke here in the driveway so it can freeze and I can basically walk on puke for the next month or try and make it to the bathroom indoors. I tell you - it was a tough one but I decided on heading inside.
I carried Cooper in and I said to him - "Coop, I'm going to puke on you."
To which he responded, "No thanks."
He then pushed my face away from his direction and said, "Look over there."
Literally - he pushed my face away from his general direction so that I wouldn't get puke on him...smart kid.
UPDATE: I took this child to a pediatric gastroenteroligist...what? I'm told he has "CVS, cyclic vomiting syndrome". WOW, that sounds serious doc, what is that? She says to me...with a straight face..."oh, random vomiting". I said, "No thanks."
Showing posts with label cooper. Show all posts
Showing posts with label cooper. Show all posts
7.01.2013
5.10.2011
Ball?
I make him say "Ball" no less than 96 times per day. It never gets old.
Don't mind the oatmeal on his face...
and please don't pay attention to the fact he is in desperate need of a haircut.
and please don't pay attention to the fact he is in desperate need of a haircut.
7.05.2010
It's Like Pulling Teeth
Milestones. They are something to celebrate of course, but they make me sad. I'm not sure if all mom's are like me but anytime my kid's do something that is a milestone (sit up, crawl, walk, jump out and scare the shit out of me, etc.) I get a little sad. I'm happy and excited on the outside but on the inside I go and sit in the corner and cry because that's just one more thing checked off the list of things they can now do and pretty soon they will be doing more things that will propel them out of cute, snuggly and baby-head smell territory.
For example, Madison lost her first tooth last year. She wasn't with me when she pulled it and I was devastated. DEVASTATED. Devastated that she was growing up way too fast and second because I wasn't there. Then she lost her second, third, fourth and fifth but she wasn't with me for any of them. She was with her dad, or at school, or I was at work, you get the picture.
Then her sixth tooth was so super duper wiggly and I excited that finally I would be there when she pulled it. We were at home and my brother was over to watch a movie. Turns out we didn't have it so I ran up to Blockbuster. I was gone for literally 5 minutes. When I got back I was greeted by little miss snaggle tooth with a freshly picked tooth in hand.
ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME? I WAS GONE FOR A SECOND!
When I was a kid you couldn't pay me to pull a tooth, the general routine was, "Who's gonna sit on her?" My daughter? She's asking for vise-grips, an oil rag and a bottle of Rebel Yell.
Well, suckers. Today I was here! Well, of course she pulled it in the other room but it was so awesome to see her running out of the room, tooth in hand, gums bleeding and yelling "I PULLED IT!". It was amazing.
I think the reason milestones seem difficult is because my kids can't wait to get them over with, like it's a freaking race. Cooper got his first teeth at 4 months.
SERIOUSLY?
Not only am I now going to get bit, but I didn't realize that I only had 3 months of toothless grin pictures to take and 4000 isn't nearly enough. Not by a longshot.
So tonight, Madison read me a story and then I read Cooper a story and remembered that not so long ago I was doing all of the reading and pretty soon they will be doing all the reading. And, that's okay by me.
For example, Madison lost her first tooth last year. She wasn't with me when she pulled it and I was devastated. DEVASTATED. Devastated that she was growing up way too fast and second because I wasn't there. Then she lost her second, third, fourth and fifth but she wasn't with me for any of them. She was with her dad, or at school, or I was at work, you get the picture.
Then her sixth tooth was so super duper wiggly and I excited that finally I would be there when she pulled it. We were at home and my brother was over to watch a movie. Turns out we didn't have it so I ran up to Blockbuster. I was gone for literally 5 minutes. When I got back I was greeted by little miss snaggle tooth with a freshly picked tooth in hand.
ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME? I WAS GONE FOR A SECOND!
When I was a kid you couldn't pay me to pull a tooth, the general routine was, "Who's gonna sit on her?" My daughter? She's asking for vise-grips, an oil rag and a bottle of Rebel Yell.
Well, suckers. Today I was here! Well, of course she pulled it in the other room but it was so awesome to see her running out of the room, tooth in hand, gums bleeding and yelling "I PULLED IT!". It was amazing.
I think the reason milestones seem difficult is because my kids can't wait to get them over with, like it's a freaking race. Cooper got his first teeth at 4 months.
SERIOUSLY?
Not only am I now going to get bit, but I didn't realize that I only had 3 months of toothless grin pictures to take and 4000 isn't nearly enough. Not by a longshot.
So tonight, Madison read me a story and then I read Cooper a story and remembered that not so long ago I was doing all of the reading and pretty soon they will be doing all the reading. And, that's okay by me.
12.28.2009
Momma. Momma. Momma.
That's my name, don't wear it out. Oops, too late, worn out beyond recognition.
I was really worried about becoming a mother of two. I was scared that it would make things different with my relationship with Madison or that I wouldn't have enough love. Whatever that means. My mom assured me that something just happens when you have another child, that there is enough love and to stop my whining and get her a glass of water, with lots of ice. Now.
As usual she was right. I can't explain what it is that happens, it just does. All of a sudden your heart has expanded and you love both of these babies so much and there is no 'one or the other', it's just both. This is not to say that I am not exhausted and that sometimes I would love for my hearing to fail and that at night even though I am so worn out that I have enough luggage for Paris Hilton occupying my lower eyelids I still stay up late just so I can get a little peace and quiet.
Like right now, it's almost midnight. I finally got Cooper to sleep, he has decided that sleeping on backs is for pussies and he wants to live dangerously and sleep on his stomach. So being the momma that I am and having a worry wart for a husband we bought one of those motion sensor baby monitors that even picks up on breathing movement, because it's great that Coop is sleeping three hours at a time but if he decided to open those eyes he would see one or two blood-shot eyed parents staring down at him and his reflection in the spoon in front of his nose because they are checking his breathing for the tenth time this hour. Every move that he makes has Joe shooting straight up in bed screaming "What's wrong!?". So, Coop is asleep, Madison is asleep after fifty questions regarding when is summer, when is Christmas (um, three days ago), when are we going swimming, when is spring, when is Thanksgiving in Canada, well, you get the drift. Thanks to an Ambien, Joe is asleep and I am currently sitting in the La-Z-Boy listening to his snoring on the baby monitor, eating some Dove candy (because I'm the adult, that's why) and about to enjoy a vigorous round of Plants Vs Zombies. Ahhh, this is the life. Wait, that's not right.
Long story short, I love my kids and I am exhausted. Wow, I do ramble.
I was really worried about becoming a mother of two. I was scared that it would make things different with my relationship with Madison or that I wouldn't have enough love. Whatever that means. My mom assured me that something just happens when you have another child, that there is enough love and to stop my whining and get her a glass of water, with lots of ice. Now.
As usual she was right. I can't explain what it is that happens, it just does. All of a sudden your heart has expanded and you love both of these babies so much and there is no 'one or the other', it's just both. This is not to say that I am not exhausted and that sometimes I would love for my hearing to fail and that at night even though I am so worn out that I have enough luggage for Paris Hilton occupying my lower eyelids I still stay up late just so I can get a little peace and quiet.
Like right now, it's almost midnight. I finally got Cooper to sleep, he has decided that sleeping on backs is for pussies and he wants to live dangerously and sleep on his stomach. So being the momma that I am and having a worry wart for a husband we bought one of those motion sensor baby monitors that even picks up on breathing movement, because it's great that Coop is sleeping three hours at a time but if he decided to open those eyes he would see one or two blood-shot eyed parents staring down at him and his reflection in the spoon in front of his nose because they are checking his breathing for the tenth time this hour. Every move that he makes has Joe shooting straight up in bed screaming "What's wrong!?". So, Coop is asleep, Madison is asleep after fifty questions regarding when is summer, when is Christmas (um, three days ago), when are we going swimming, when is spring, when is Thanksgiving in Canada, well, you get the drift. Thanks to an Ambien, Joe is asleep and I am currently sitting in the La-Z-Boy listening to his snoring on the baby monitor, eating some Dove candy (because I'm the adult, that's why) and about to enjoy a vigorous round of Plants Vs Zombies. Ahhh, this is the life. Wait, that's not right.
Long story short, I love my kids and I am exhausted. Wow, I do ramble.
Are You Kidding Me.
Attention makers of the bassinett that I have. I won't mention the maker, not sure if I could get in trouble for that. I will tell you that this company is known for good quality and also makes various "adventure-wear". Rhymes with Shmeddie Shmauer.
The bassinett is beautiful, just a peach to look at. The problem comes in when it's time to rock the baby to sleep. While rocking it makes a loud clicking sound, kind of like a cha-chung, cha-chung with every sway. That's not too bad because I think that Cooper has now gotten used to it and it lulls him to sleep.
The real issue arrives when you need to lock it into position because if you leave it in the "rocking mode" the baby will of course work it's way over to edge therefore smothering himself against the side because it will tilt and he will not be able to pull away. I'm a mom.
So, I'm done rocking him, he is FINALLY asleep and I postion the bed to lock it into place and I turn the knob and as it locks it sounds just slightly louder than a car backfiring.
You can only imagine the sight of my infant jumping out of his skin and clawing at his hair. I can only imagine that he must have gotten that move from me.
So, what do I do?
Bitch and complain. Piss and moan.
The bassinett is beautiful, just a peach to look at. The problem comes in when it's time to rock the baby to sleep. While rocking it makes a loud clicking sound, kind of like a cha-chung, cha-chung with every sway. That's not too bad because I think that Cooper has now gotten used to it and it lulls him to sleep.
The real issue arrives when you need to lock it into position because if you leave it in the "rocking mode" the baby will of course work it's way over to edge therefore smothering himself against the side because it will tilt and he will not be able to pull away. I'm a mom.
So, I'm done rocking him, he is FINALLY asleep and I postion the bed to lock it into place and I turn the knob and as it locks it sounds just slightly louder than a car backfiring.
You can only imagine the sight of my infant jumping out of his skin and clawing at his hair. I can only imagine that he must have gotten that move from me.
So, what do I do?
Bitch and complain. Piss and moan.
12.20.2009
A Child Is Born
Alright, here it is, the story that you've been waiting for. Don't lie, you know you've been waiting to hear just how this kid finally arrived. So sit back, relax and get ready for some nail biting, nurse assaulting action. No, really, I assaulted a nurse.
Well, the kid actually listened. I said that he better not arrive before the premiere of New Moon and I would prefer it if he waited until after Thanksgiving. So both of those events came and went. If you can recall I was pretty damn sick and tired of being pregnant, I'm pretty sure I complained every day.
The day before my due date rolled around, it was Saturday. Joe and I figured we'd better get out and run some errands and get the Christmas shopping done since all hell was going to be breaking loose in the next week or so. So, we head out and run errands. We managed to fit in a small fight which derailed our Christmas shopping because I refuse to Christmas shop after I've been crying in the bathroom where someone is taking a massive shit in the stall next to me. Maybe it'd be fine for some people but for me that just doesn't scream Christmas spirit, that's just me though.
That night we're at home and we figured we'd head out in the morning, have some breakfast and do the Christmas shopping. We watched some TV and headed to bed. I was having some contractions, no pain or discomfort so I figured no big deal. There's no way this kid was going to arrive on his due date, that just doesn't happen. In my mind I figured he'd be coming during the next week.
Laying in bed I was of course grumbling about having to pee for the 237th time that day, I also had a split lip. Don't ask. Okay, you want to know why I had a split upper lip? Drool. When you're pregnant you drool in your sleep. Picture it, open mouth breathing, snoring, drooling. This dries out the mouth, so when I wake up a million times in the night I might yawn or move my mouth in some way and it splits my lip open. Fun. So, laying there I opened my mouth to tell Joe something and my split opened up so I said "Fuck, my lip hurts!".
Five minutes later I felt something strange, like a "POP" in my stomach to which I replied "Mother fucker". Joe laughed and said "What, split your lip again?" to which I replied....
"Nope, my water broke."
Joe: BLUR
Literally, he was a blur. I didn't actually see him again until we were sitting next to eachother in the car, and even that image is a little shaky.
On the way to the hospital phone calls were made. Momma, Morgie Porgie and my friend Kathy were all on the way. As a matter of fact Kathy was on a date, he dropped her off at the hospital. My water broke at exactly 10:00pm on Saturday the 28th, we made it to the hospital by 10:30pm. I was cheery, everything we going smoothly, contractions weren't even painful yet and I was already excited about getting my epidural and taking a nap because dammit, I was tired.
Kathy is a doula and an RN, we agreed that I would wait until I was 4cm dilated to get my epidural. When I arrived at the hospital I was 2cm. No problem right? Sure, whatever you say "pre-painful contractions lady". So, the contractions started to hurt. Wow, I had forgotten what they felt like. Yup, painful. I had to remind people more than once to NOT TALK while I'm having a contraction and for God's sake DO NOT TOUCH ME, especially my face or hair. I didn't even want encouragement, don't tell me I'm doing great while I'm breathing through the pain that feels like my legs being ripped off of my body.
Finally at around 1am my wonderful, beautiful Godsend of a nurse, Dylan, checks me and I'm 4cm! "Get the epidural...NOW." By now the pain is radiating through me and I'm trying everything, breathing, meditation, distraction and nothing is working. That anesthesiologist couldn't have gotten there fast enough. But boy was I excited, I couldn't wait to get the sweet, body numbing medicine so I could take a nap. She arrived and it took awhile but it was in and the pain was starting to weaken. After a few contractions the pain was barely a purr but I didn't feel so great so I puked and felt better. That was when I asked momma and Morgan if they were going to just leave and come back in the morning. You know because I'm going to sleep now and this kid isn't coming for a while. They just kind of look at me and shrug and Kathy says she thinks he's coming sooner rather than later. I laugh. I actually laughed. Stupid.
I tell Dylan I'm ready to get some sleep and she says she wants to check me first. Fine, I say, but hurry up. She checks me and says, "No nap for you, it's time." I then commenced to slapping the shit out of her arm. "NO, I'm tired!" I explain, "I can't push now, "I WANT MY NAP!" Then I felt it, the pressure which is actually pain. This pain is something that the epidural can't cover up, this is the feeling of a human about to come out of your vagina. "Damn it." I then began pushing my epidural button like a maniac. It will only give you more medicine every 15 minutes but it felt good to push the button, I also wanted to make sure I got my next dose not one second over the 15 minute mark.
Joe, Momma and Kathy stayed in the room with me. We had to wait for the OB and the neonatal doctor to arrive so there I am legs up, all my business in the open and they are telling me not to push. I don't even know what the room looked like at this point, nothing could have gotten my eyes open. OB shows up, neonatal doctor not yet. So now she's just hanging out down at the end of the bed, everyone's eyes on the "baby arrival area" and they are all going on about how his head is "right there" and "look at all his hair" and I'm pushing a "magic" button which I'm sure wasn't plugged into anything and yelling "I'm not pushing!"
I'm not joking when I say, the second I heard the door open when the neonatal doctor came in I started to push and I didn't stop until that kids head was out and they made me stop. I pushed 3 times through 3 contractions and gave birth to Cooper Vaughn Wolf at 3:23am on Sunday November 29, his due date.
7lbs, 15oz, 19 inches long.
That's that. Now we are home and getting used to the sleepless nights, the endless parade of diapers being flung at the trash can, the midnight crying, the husband asking me over a screaming baby if maybe he's hungry or gassy or has a dirty diaper and me staring at him blank faced because how the fuck am I supposed to know, I can't read baby minds!
We are managing. Madison loves her little brother but can't quite grasp why it is I just can't jump up and do what she needs right when she needs it, even though I would love to, really I would. Given the option to play with Barbie's over having a kid attached to my boob for an hour straight I would totally go for those Barbie's.
Hopefully blog posts occurrence will pick up soon, it's just so hard to type and feed a baby. I tried typing while feeding myself yesterday and now my keyboard has chicken pot pie in most of the upper left keys. God, that Marie Callender is a real bitch.
Well, the kid actually listened. I said that he better not arrive before the premiere of New Moon and I would prefer it if he waited until after Thanksgiving. So both of those events came and went. If you can recall I was pretty damn sick and tired of being pregnant, I'm pretty sure I complained every day.
The day before my due date rolled around, it was Saturday. Joe and I figured we'd better get out and run some errands and get the Christmas shopping done since all hell was going to be breaking loose in the next week or so. So, we head out and run errands. We managed to fit in a small fight which derailed our Christmas shopping because I refuse to Christmas shop after I've been crying in the bathroom where someone is taking a massive shit in the stall next to me. Maybe it'd be fine for some people but for me that just doesn't scream Christmas spirit, that's just me though.
That night we're at home and we figured we'd head out in the morning, have some breakfast and do the Christmas shopping. We watched some TV and headed to bed. I was having some contractions, no pain or discomfort so I figured no big deal. There's no way this kid was going to arrive on his due date, that just doesn't happen. In my mind I figured he'd be coming during the next week.
Laying in bed I was of course grumbling about having to pee for the 237th time that day, I also had a split lip. Don't ask. Okay, you want to know why I had a split upper lip? Drool. When you're pregnant you drool in your sleep. Picture it, open mouth breathing, snoring, drooling. This dries out the mouth, so when I wake up a million times in the night I might yawn or move my mouth in some way and it splits my lip open. Fun. So, laying there I opened my mouth to tell Joe something and my split opened up so I said "Fuck, my lip hurts!".
Five minutes later I felt something strange, like a "POP" in my stomach to which I replied "Mother fucker". Joe laughed and said "What, split your lip again?" to which I replied....
"Nope, my water broke."
Joe: BLUR
Literally, he was a blur. I didn't actually see him again until we were sitting next to eachother in the car, and even that image is a little shaky.
On the way to the hospital phone calls were made. Momma, Morgie Porgie and my friend Kathy were all on the way. As a matter of fact Kathy was on a date, he dropped her off at the hospital. My water broke at exactly 10:00pm on Saturday the 28th, we made it to the hospital by 10:30pm. I was cheery, everything we going smoothly, contractions weren't even painful yet and I was already excited about getting my epidural and taking a nap because dammit, I was tired.
Kathy is a doula and an RN, we agreed that I would wait until I was 4cm dilated to get my epidural. When I arrived at the hospital I was 2cm. No problem right? Sure, whatever you say "pre-painful contractions lady". So, the contractions started to hurt. Wow, I had forgotten what they felt like. Yup, painful. I had to remind people more than once to NOT TALK while I'm having a contraction and for God's sake DO NOT TOUCH ME, especially my face or hair. I didn't even want encouragement, don't tell me I'm doing great while I'm breathing through the pain that feels like my legs being ripped off of my body.
Finally at around 1am my wonderful, beautiful Godsend of a nurse, Dylan, checks me and I'm 4cm! "Get the epidural...NOW." By now the pain is radiating through me and I'm trying everything, breathing, meditation, distraction and nothing is working. That anesthesiologist couldn't have gotten there fast enough. But boy was I excited, I couldn't wait to get the sweet, body numbing medicine so I could take a nap. She arrived and it took awhile but it was in and the pain was starting to weaken. After a few contractions the pain was barely a purr but I didn't feel so great so I puked and felt better. That was when I asked momma and Morgan if they were going to just leave and come back in the morning. You know because I'm going to sleep now and this kid isn't coming for a while. They just kind of look at me and shrug and Kathy says she thinks he's coming sooner rather than later. I laugh. I actually laughed. Stupid.
I tell Dylan I'm ready to get some sleep and she says she wants to check me first. Fine, I say, but hurry up. She checks me and says, "No nap for you, it's time." I then commenced to slapping the shit out of her arm. "NO, I'm tired!" I explain, "I can't push now, "I WANT MY NAP!" Then I felt it, the pressure which is actually pain. This pain is something that the epidural can't cover up, this is the feeling of a human about to come out of your vagina. "Damn it." I then began pushing my epidural button like a maniac. It will only give you more medicine every 15 minutes but it felt good to push the button, I also wanted to make sure I got my next dose not one second over the 15 minute mark.
Joe, Momma and Kathy stayed in the room with me. We had to wait for the OB and the neonatal doctor to arrive so there I am legs up, all my business in the open and they are telling me not to push. I don't even know what the room looked like at this point, nothing could have gotten my eyes open. OB shows up, neonatal doctor not yet. So now she's just hanging out down at the end of the bed, everyone's eyes on the "baby arrival area" and they are all going on about how his head is "right there" and "look at all his hair" and I'm pushing a "magic" button which I'm sure wasn't plugged into anything and yelling "I'm not pushing!"
I'm not joking when I say, the second I heard the door open when the neonatal doctor came in I started to push and I didn't stop until that kids head was out and they made me stop. I pushed 3 times through 3 contractions and gave birth to Cooper Vaughn Wolf at 3:23am on Sunday November 29, his due date.
7lbs, 15oz, 19 inches long.
That's that. Now we are home and getting used to the sleepless nights, the endless parade of diapers being flung at the trash can, the midnight crying, the husband asking me over a screaming baby if maybe he's hungry or gassy or has a dirty diaper and me staring at him blank faced because how the fuck am I supposed to know, I can't read baby minds!
We are managing. Madison loves her little brother but can't quite grasp why it is I just can't jump up and do what she needs right when she needs it, even though I would love to, really I would. Given the option to play with Barbie's over having a kid attached to my boob for an hour straight I would totally go for those Barbie's.
Hopefully blog posts occurrence will pick up soon, it's just so hard to type and feed a baby. I tried typing while feeding myself yesterday and now my keyboard has chicken pot pie in most of the upper left keys. God, that Marie Callender is a real bitch.
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