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Vom stuff

babies, Dramababy, Mom Stuff, Not Pleased, Vom stuff

There’s really no good reason to read this. Unless you like ultimate sadness and poop pictures.

January 26, 2012

Raise your hand if you know what croup is?

If you answered a combination of crap and poop YOU ARE CORRECT.

However I also found out very quickly that it is a baby virus sent to torture sweet little smushy baby faces all around the world (and their parents). Right smack dab in the middle of my boob lump drama, G caught croup. He caught it somehow, in the dark, in his crib, in the middle of the night. I think he’s hiding shit under his mattress. Like rusty nails and saliva from friends.

We wake up to the most horrid sounding cough you can imagine. I thought my son had become a seal. Because the cough literally sounds like a barking seal. It’s HORRIFIC. The child then had trouble breathing. Like for serious you guys. I brought him into our bed and was quickly reminded how happy I am that we no longer co-sleep. So I ended up sleeping on his nursery floor while he would do this

sleep
15 minutes
seal bark SCREAM stop breathing
*trip to the steam bathroom*
sleep
15 minutes
seal bark SCREAM stop breathing
mom loses her shit
Dad takes G outside in the FREEZING cold to get night air
mom cries in a corner
sleep
15 minutes
seal bark SCREAM stop breathing

ALL.NIGHT.LONG.

I debated taking him to the ER but I’m a queen over reactor so I thought I’d be a sensible mom and wait it out.
Sensible moms are assholes.

Because not 15 minutes after sitting with the doctor, he sent us to the hospital for xrays for PNEUMONIA.
jesusgod people. BABY PNEUMONIA.

I called B in hysterics.

Me: MY BABY MY BABY
B: It’s ok, I’ll meet you there in 15 minutes
Me: SOB SOB SOB
B: IT WILL BE OK
Me: MY BAAAAABY
B: Just DRIVE.

Do you know what is sad? Yes, those Sarah McLaughlin animal commercials. I agree. But so is a tiny child getting a chest xray. But he did not have pneumonia. Thank god. He was then admitted directly to the ER because he was “working to breathe”. What a TERRIBLE sentence.

I’ll wait while you get a bandaid for your heart.

He got a tiny little breathing treatment that made him look like a dragon, some steroids and lots of fever reducer because it was 103.3 ja;sldkjfa;lskdjfa;lksdjf
My poor little monkey who bounces off the walls couldn’t even sit up. I cried maybe every odd hour.

The only thing that made the child happy the next day was a warm steamy bath. So happy that for the first time ladies and gentlemen, he shit in the tub. WARNING, I’M GOING TO SHOW YOU THE SHIT. IF YOU DON’T WANT TO SEE IT. DON’T LOOK.

NOW STOP COMPLAINING ABOUT SEEING IT. Because I am the one who had to get the very sick child out and fish the poop out with my hand in a plastic bag that OOPS looks like it has a hole in it. Awesome. And oops, the poop disintegrates into 1 million tiny poops diffusing throughout the tub of water, all through the tiny holes and crevices of rubber ducks and toy boats. I am then the one who gets the STRAINER from the kitchen to get the bigger poops out to dump them into the toilet. I am then the one who has to collect the poop toys into a bucket with the poop strainer and somehow clean out the tub because it smells like a frat toilet.

I obviously sent that picture straight to B and requested a raise in my House Manager salary.

B says this: I would have just flushed the poop.

WHAT A GREAT IDEA YOU ASSHOLE.
Please remember that B has given this child a bath every single night of his life and he poops with me.

But G was not better and today we found out that he has bronchitis and double ear infections. But he’s starting to improve and let me tell you this: This took more out of me and was 100 times more stressful for me than finding out about Mr lumpy hump.

The one thing that got me through my lump ordeal was telling myself how much worse it would be if G was the one with a mysterious lump instead of me. That made me grateful for my lump and gave me the strength and courage to face it head on. And having G sick this week was a really good constant reminder of that.

This was G’s first REAL sickness and it won’t be his last and I have NO idea how I’m going to deal with more of this. I don’t know how any of you deal with this.
I am currently working on a love bubble for my baby. It’s made of marshmallow, bunnies and clouds and it protects my super sweet baby from rusty nails and friend saliva. He can totally live in that for a good 17 years. Oh, I’m also considering accepting donated breastmilk for G. And that is not a joke. I really miss having my super sweet magical health juice for G. He was never sick with the good shit.

Now please tell me how you keep your children safe. I’m accepting blueprints for bubbles.

Also I don’t want to hear about the shit picture. Go wash your eyes.

Worn the F out,

MODG

 

Raise your hand if you know what croup is? If you answered a combination of crap and poop YOU…

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hippie stuff, I hate everyone, Innapropriate, Mom Stuff, Not Pleased, Vom stuff

Old souls have old holes. And mine is in retirement. Both.

September 9, 2011

To commence the -week of getting my holes checked out-, I had an OBGYN appointment this morning. And I can say that it went just about as well as the dentist.

Ok the dentist was worse. But hole #2 didn’t get any better of a report than that mouth hole up north. And if we’re really riding the honesty train, I didn’t go to an OBGYN, I went to a midwife…where I cried, and got a hug. It’s fairly routine. She told me that I deserved a medal for everything that I’ve been through. Midwives 4 life. Although who cares about medals anymore. It’s 2011 and I’m not in a war. I’d like a flat screen and a doughnut.

So remember during my birth story, I told you about “the awful”? For those of you who are too lazy for clicks and links, “the awful” was the cervical exam. They would dig around to see how dilated you were. I finally knew what it meant to see stars. And unfortunately Britney was not one of them. Well turns out, my vagina resents that procedure and is holding it against me. That or I’m mentally traumatized. So I told the midwife to check it out because it still seems angry at me.

I get the standard “ok dear, inch down about 3 inches”. (that practice is consistent with midwives and anyone else in the vagina business)

Stirrups in, staring up at the breast feeding fairy mobile above my head (oh yes.)

MW: Hmm, well that’s interesting

Me: I really don’t need an interesting vagina today

MW: So your cervix is retreating.

Me: Retreating? Where on earth could it go?

MW: It’s not letting me take any cells

Me: Letting you? Who is running this show?

MW: Oh my…

Me: Don’t they teach you people some key phrases to avoid when inside a vagina?

MW: Well, it looks like you have a “post-menopausal cervix”

Me: EXCUSE ME?

MW: It is white, when it should be dark and it’s closed off.

Me: So my cervix is dying?! And it’s racist?

So what this really means is that my estrogen is just way low from breastfeeding and it’s normal. It also means that my vagina is an angry old broad who wants nothing to do with anyone or anything in it’s house.

I’m like, jesusonabagel, this is just what I need. I am already responsible for a high needs baby, 2 cats on a hunger strike, a medium needs husband (except where his hair is concerned) and now my old bag of a cervix. I have to go to a super special doctor in the city to get fancy meds for her. It’s basically wrinkle cream and botox for the old bar whore.

I told my friend about my old box and she put it perfectly, “bodies are weird.” Bodies ARE weird. They do weird shit and they annoy me. They get rotten holes and stuff falls out of them that you can’t put back in. I told her that I’m over it. When I die I plan to donate my body to someone who wants a body. I don’t care if it’s “science” or to some guy who really gets into his makeshift haunted house on halloween. I don’t even know what the science thing means. Like, can I donate my body to math if I choose to? But at this rate no one will want my body and it’s rotten holes anyway. I told you all that holes were trouble. You didn’t listen.

So I’m making an appointment at the super fancy hole doc in the city and killmenow because I have to email them my insurance information and my cats shoe size before they will even think to call ME to make an appointment. Slow your roll doctors. Bodies are weird and you are all just pretty much guessing anyway.

To be honest, I don’t really understand much of this estrogen vagina cervix breastfeeding science. I’m just following orders. Can one of you tell me more about my cervix? I trust the internet about as much as I trust doctors.

Forget doctors. I’ll take one drum circle and 3 hippies to dance around my vagina please. They don’t need no insurance. Just some sunflowers and high fives.

Signing out friends.

I’ll be pouring an Old Fashioned down my trap to keep the hag quiet.

MODG and oldMODGhole

To commence the -week of getting my holes checked out-, I had an OBGYN appointment this morning. And I…

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Dramababy, I love cats and if you don't you can bite me., Mom Stuff, Sharing, Vom stuff

To be fair, doesn’t the zoo make everyone want to vom just a little?

August 17, 2011

After about 8 months of birthing a blob of skin that does not contribute in any way to society, you finally get a child who reacts to the world. And holythinmints, are you excited about it. And trust me, everyone, especially your facebook news feed, knows how excited you are. My poor facebook friends look at maybe 70 pictures of G a day. But they don’t understand that he’s like DOING things now. THINGS!

So the same way that everyone at Penn State throws on a bikini when the temperature finally reaches 50 degrees, we may have jumped the gun with the zoo. Taking an 8 month old anywhere, that costs any amount of money, is more for us as parents than for the kid. We feel like we’re doing what parents are supposed to do. I mean I know that Danny Tanner took the girls to the zoo like every other Thursday and who doesn’t want to be a Danny Tanner parent? But I could literally take G to the grocery store and the box of noodles would impress him more than the giraffe.

I didn’t really realize this until I saw how thoroughly disgusted he was with the zoo in our pictures.

To be fair, he is my child. I am also disgusted with the zoo. But you get excited about stupid crap that you weren’t excited about before because you think that your child will be excited about it. So either G was too young for the zoo or just way too smart.

But just when I thought I knew that he was my child, I saw this. Let’s pan out from our last photo….

And just like that I tricked you into look at more pictures of my child. See how moms are sneaky about that shit? Too bad for you because

HE’S DOING THINGS. THINGS!

 

If you have any recommendations of stuff to do with an 8 month old that doesn’t rape our wallets and pay us back in yuck faces, please let me know.

xoxo

MODGtart

 

After about 8 months of birthing a blob of skin that does not contribute in any way to society,…

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babies, Innapropriate, Not Pleased, Uncategorized, Vom stuff

Only MY garden could find a way to be pornographically vulgar.

June 20, 2011

Gardening is lame. I’m sorry it is. But you know what? I love the shit out of it. I’m SO bad at it though. Whatever the opposite is of a green thumb, is what I have. Like a red thumb. For blood. A bloody red thumb that murders every living thing that grows from the ground. Now, gardening is pretty mom-ish boring stupid. But leave it to my life to turn it into a pornographic event.

Now that I’m House Manager, baby G and I water all of the plants outside every morning. I JUST learned that you have to do this. Apparently stuff just doesn’t grow when you throw some dirt on it and say a prayer. EXCEPT for the stuff that you don’t want to grow. That stuff would grow in a tsunami of acid and knives.

So there I am doing my daily watering business with G and what do I see?

Not sure what you’re looking at?

Let’s get a closer look

This foul ass creature is a fungus. Not just any fungus. Does it look familiar to you?

I’m growing dog penis in my garden. And I know you’re like, oh MODG you’re over reacting. That doesn’t REALLY look like penis.

Let me show you my google findings about my dog penis garden.

so then I’m like WTF!? I don’t want dog penis in my yard. So I pull those bitches up. NEXT day they are back. I pull them up again BACK AGAIN. This has gone on for weeks. I eventually gave up and let them shriveul up and die in the sun. The amount of rage and fury that I have for these dog penises is disproportionate to fungus situations. I mean maybe if a dog penis fungus was growing on my face, my anger would be justified. But whatever. I was determined to commit dog penis genocide.

So I kept googling.

Removing the penis

Mother nature is a tricky little bitch. She was all, “What should I make this fungus look like that keeps coming back no matter how many times it deflates and is full of stinky slime.” A PENIS. Point, mother nature.

 

I took baby G out to show him the penis in the ground as a life lesson. If you let your penis see the sun, it will shrivel up and die.

Word out.

MODG

 

Gardening is lame. I’m sorry it is. But you know what? I love the shit out of it. I’m…

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Dramababy, Mom Stuff, Vom stuff

Karma in my face.

June 13, 2011

To the people who were pissed off at my poop picture. This post is for you.

I started to feel guilty about not putting dramababy in the car to go anywhere since he would fall asleep, ruin his naps and ruin my free time, which is basically spent staring at stuff I can’t have on jcrew.com. So I decided it was time to take him to the big boy pool. We have a baby pool on our deck that we have spent hours in. He totally digs sitting there and playing with his 1/4 measuring cup (ps I should totally make a line of baby toys). So we get ALL ready to go. I mean this was big time. We load up on our Badger sunscreen, put on our swim top, our bum genius waterproof diaper, our swim trunks AND our explorer hat. Take that sun. I then get MY ass into a bathingsuit (just kill me), bring the sippy cup of water, the pears for a snack, the bib for when he eats the pears, the change of clothes, the towels, the 1/4 measuring cup, and an hour later, we’re ready for the big boy pool.

This was also my first time to the pool. I was nervous. I didn’t know the drill…like what the regular moms do.  So we get to the pool and check in. The baby pool is GIANT. It’s got like seals spitting water and mushroom water falls…I mean it’s a serious baby pool. And there are kids EVERYWHERE. There is also a spattering of moms standing in the pools. Some in surprisingly skimpy bikinis. No thanks bikinis moms. It’s just us here, we’re not impressed. So I stand at the gate with G for a good 2 full minutes contemplating my approach. (Ok, no big deal. I’ll just take off my shorts, leave our stuff here and act like we do this all the time. Whatever). Then I spend another 2 full minutes opening the wrong side of the gate. I was all, shit shit shit, WHY won’t this open? I’m pulling and pushing. Finally I manage to dislodge the stake from the ground to screeeech the gate open. I don’t  understand why everyone is staring. Then I see bikini mom open the OTHER side of the gate with basically her pinky. Pool fail for mom.

Ok we’re in the pool. Baby G is very serious about all water activity. There are no smiles to be had, but he freaking loves it. He’s just serious about aquatics. We’re floating around, looking at the seal and the mushroom and the other crap. At one point a 2 year old came up and gave me a kiss. Kids are weird. I kept thinking that I was most definitely probably swimming in 60 of those 1/4 measuring cups worth of pee and poop particles. Whatever. I also kept thinking about my bathingsuit traveling up my ass as I bend down to hold up dramababy in the pool and the 19 year old lifeguard staring as my left cheek.

Ok we’re done. OUT OF THE POOL. Time to change. The Bum Genius diapers are great because they are also waterproof on the outside, so they’re safe for the pool. But I wanted a dry baby to bring home. We set up changing camp on a lounge chair and HOLY SHIT OH MY GOD MY WORST NIGHTMARE.

dramababy shit in the pool. HE SHIT IN THE POOL.

I open a diaper to a dissolved mess of crap that was clearly sloshing around in there this whole time. I.AM.MORTIFIED. And of course last night G had corn. Of course he did. I quickly  hide the evidence, change the kid and get the F out of there.

We’ve been in the baby pool at home no less than 15 times and never even a rabbit crap. Lots of people? Public place? Sure let’s shit all over it.

It will be some time before I go back to that pool my friends. But to those of you who were all, MODG your poop picture was “crossing a line” consider this my poop karma.

 

Being a mom is disgusting,

MODG

To the people who were pissed off at my poop picture. This post is for you. I started to…

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breastfeeding, hippie stuff, Mom Stuff, Vom stuff

Warning: simulated nudity and non simulated poop.

June 7, 2011

I feel like it’s important to give you all some sort of update on our lives here as I pretty much made the whole internet think I was verging on residence in a 4×4 padded walled cell. I know many of you are pregnant….biting your nails and shaking in your belly band as you read this blog. I don’t know why you would torture yourself like that you maniac. But I’m here to tell you our status today so when your dramababy farts in your face every hour on the hour and screams in your face telling you that you’re fat and awful, you can say “it got better for MODG it will get better for me”.

Tomorrow is G’s 6 month birthday. I can’t believe we got this far. I mean I guess I didn’t expect us NOT to get this far, but being halfway to a year feels like we blinked and got here but also that we’ve been living this 6 months for 6 years. Everyone told me “it gets better at 3 months” or “ooh just wait until 4 months, everything  calms down” or “no no no 5 months was the magic time”. I’m here to tell you that everyone knows nothing. Including me. I know nothing. I just know that there are no rules and your baby will shake it’s baby finger and say “uh uh sister, I do what I want on my schedule”. G finally has settled into being somewhat of a normal baby, and it definitely took this long and work.

it took time and hippie dust to make this child happy

Yes it took work. I don’t recommend being a mental patient like I was, but I didn’t rest until I figured out what was wrong with G. Pediatricians didn’t help me. They would say “oh he’s fiiiine” and I’d sob and say YOU DON’T KNOW. Truth be told, maybe he was fine and just growing out of some things. But I wanted him better now. Not because I’m some sort of baby saint, because I couldn’t take the crying one.more.day.

After figuring out that I was dehydrated while breastfeeding, that made a huge difference. Then tackling sleep, which is another topic that pediatricians know jack about. We now have a new baby who takes about 2 2 hour naps a day and sleeps KINDA well through the night. But this all just didn’t happen, I had to work at it.

But the work has paid off and when the simple things like eating right and sleeping well fell into place, baby became happy. I mean if you never slept  and had fart foods all day, you’d be a piss ant too. But I’m glad that I trusted my instincts and I’m glad I stuck with breastfeeding. It’s a really great awesome bonding thing with G and I and I see the benefits of it every day. It wasn’t easy but it’s paying off…for us. (I don’t want to hear it formula moms, I’m not looking for a milk war).

just in case you were unclear on the details of a milk war

So here we are. I feel like we “made it”. I know we have a lot ahead of us like TEETHING. gaaaah. But we made it through the hardest 6 months of my life and I’m proud of that. And I’m proud of my happy kid. And I’m proud of B for supporting me when I was all, YOU DON’T EVEN KNOW I JUST NEED TO EAT SOUP FOR A YEAR AND IT WILL BE FINE. He just let me do my crazies.

Thanks to you too for sticking through this blog when it was less about unicorns and wine and more about diapers and boob milk. Or I guess I could say less martinis, more diaper genies. Your advice and support helped a lot.

(I feel like a rendition of we are the world, should be playing in the background of this post)

Let’s bring this ship back to reality.

you are viewing this picture thanks to the results of the facebook poll, demanding it. I just bring what the people want.

POOP

I feel like it’s important to give you all some sort of update on our lives here as I…

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