Wednesday, June 30, 2010

The making of a monster

Apparently I will be turning my 4th and final child into a spawn of the devil. Or else he had natural tendencies and I'm just too tired to beat them out of him. I mean, besides the fact that once I solve one problem with him, another one pops up all of a sudden, he gets away with murder.

Back when I had triplets, and I suspect with most first time parents, it all seemed so important. Scheduled eating, sleep training, rigid nap taking, planned walks and so on. And, naturally, with three it was more important. If all three were allowed to eat on demand until they were 2 I'd be insane (more than I am already I mean,) But one baby eating on demand? Eh. I'm up anyway. Some triplet nightmare or something, or just the aches and pains of being old, post pregnancy and fat.

Naps? Well, unfortunately for the kid, he's kinda screwed by association with triplets who only nap once a day and need to get out of the house every morning. Makes it hard for him to nap whenever he's supposed to. So, then when I am home with him, how can I expect him to follow a nap schedule? Sleep training? Well, how do you go from rocking that tiny infant to sleep with tears in your eyes while singing love songs to him to letting him soothe his own dang self? The triplets were never rocked to sleep in their lives. Sucks to be them, but it was reality. A bouncy chair or swing, maybe, but no mommy ever sang and rocked them to sleep.

Ugh that makes me feel guilty as sin.

And so this kid will probably be on the bottle until he's 8, wake at night until he's 18, and live in the basement of our home playing computer games and drinking liters of Coke until we croak or he slaughters us in our sleep due to deep psychological problems. Caused by me. Babying the crap out of him.

But he's just so cute! How do you not also keep thinking that this is the last time I get to spoil a kid, snuggle a sleepy baby, see one of his middle of the night smiles greeting me, or bottle feed him into a food coma? It'll be years before I have grandchildren, I have to soak all this up or miss it forever!

I'll sleep when they go to college. For now I'll just watch them sleep.

Tuesday, June 29, 2010

The Blank Stare

The Blank Stare

My son B has perfected it.

And it drives me absolutely batty.

Let's see why! Imagine your 2 + year old kid wailing in bed at 8:15, a full hour and a half after lights out. You rush in to see what is the matter, and he immediately shuts up. Then you ask him what's wrong, what do you need, why are you crying, any number of permutations of 'tell me why you need me' and what does this child do?

He just goes mute. Oh, and he's apparently unable to move in order to point or nod either. He stares at me with his wide blue eyes and no expression on his face.

It's maddening. Because then? I leave the room and the INSTANT the door closes? Waaaaiiiiillll.

So I go in a second time. Mute. Third time? Mute. And depending on my sanity and amount of sleep that day the muteness enrages me to differing levels. Sometimes the muteness seems like insolence. Sometimes it seems like the paralysis of a boy who is too scared to speak. Why the latter would be true until the 4th time I go in raging like some kind of crazy bear I don't know. I'm not scary the first 3 times. I don't even have bed head yet. I likely have a little wine on board. I'm lovely for goodness' sake. So I don't think it's fear. But I'm not sure it's insolence either.

Some argue he's trying to get a rise out of me. Well it works. My choice is to sit eating my dinner listening to him wail or go in and guess what the heck is wrong with him. Is it your diaper, your bear, your boogers, what? I know this boy can speak when he wants to. But he's as good at withholding speech as I am at withholding sex.

Which is to say, damn good.

Too damned good.

If this kid isn't smothered by the time he's 3 it'll be a miracle. That silent look takes on all sorts of evil permutations when I'm already tired and frustrated. He is either an evil genius or he has a mental problem. I'd hate to punish him if there's truly something that prevents him from communicating. But I'm pretty sure he's just a pain in my butt. So I guess you're all thinking to yourselves that not going in is the answer. But that boy can wail a good long time. And half the house is trying to sleep. And that just sucks. As does a glass of wine while listening to whining. Not totally sucky but mostly.

I'm pretty sure this boy was put on the planet to finish my sanity off. Does every mother have one of these children?

Monday, June 28, 2010

I'm getting weaker

If sleep is for the weak then I'm getting weaker every day. That's right, I'm sleeping again. What's funny about having a backlog of 2 weeks of no sleep is that at first you feel worse when you start getting some. The first morning after getting a 2 hour and a 3 hour block of sleep back to back, my feet hurt, my back ached, and my tendons and muscles were all tight and sore. I guess a lot of healing was going on finally. 

The amazing thing is how well my body hid the damage from me that was occurring. Doesn't it seem remarkable that while I was suffering through my 2 weeks of no sleep I didn't feel the feet and the back and so on? Perhaps insanity has some benefits? No physical ailments to speak of. But now that there's time to fix things back up at night? I'm an old lady again. 

And wouldn't you love to know the cure that got me all this sleep? Well apparently the cure was to excise the mom from the night routine. In other words, the first night my husband fed the infant his first night time meal? Was the first night he slept for 5 hours afterwards. 

Little jerk.

I mean I spent night after night catering to his needs, trying to soothe him to a long and lasting sleep, praying to any and all higher powers for a 3 hour stint (oh who am I kidding? I would have made a deal with Satan if it were necessary) and my husband waltzes in there, feeds him more formula than he has taken from me in weeks and voila! Sleep. 

Now I suppose I should be flattered that he liked my company so much that he awoke every hour just to see me, but, ahem, for some reason I'm not. It sure didn't feel like flattery. Felt like torture. 

So after 3 nights of 'longer' blocks of sleep of up to 3 hours at a time I am feeling human again. That doesn't mean I'm not crying at the drop of a hat. Oh no, that's still happening. Now I have to sort out whether I'm in the throes of post partum depression or not. Because the slightest little thing sends me over the cliff. Baby not taking first nap of the day? Insane weeping. Children acting like hooligans in their cribs after lights out? Strong urge to beat the bejesus out of them. (Well maybe that part is normal.) 

What's hard to sort out is what is old wiring from my childhood and from having had triplets, and what is abnormal reactions in the moment. What I mean is am I losing my mind

1. because I am losing control of a situation and due to my childhood I have issues with losing control or not being able to manage a situation so that it doesn't blow up in my face? Or,

2. because when I had triplets, missing a nap meant 3 overtired children screaming at me simultaneously and I have some sort of post traumatic stress disorder reaction to overtired potentialities? Or,

3. because this is PPD and my anxiety level is through the roof and some kind of medication would help me with this?

I think I'll sleep a few more nights before I decide. I know #2 comes into play a lot. Having just one baby is a whole other way of life. One over tired baby can be handled much easier. You can even take turns rocking him or putting him to sleep. One baby who missed his nap is just one baby who has to be forced to take a longer nap next time around. One baby is not a crisis! Three are and I don't have 3. So how do I stop reacting to him like he's one of three? It's like I'm a highly trained war general and I'm having to moderate a wrestling match. I'm overskilled. My adrenaline over-surges and I'm all over the problem like we have to dig trenches and make more ammo. 

So, in any case, let's hope it's not PPD. But if it is, I will not hesitate to take meds. I am a proponent of getting all the help you need, because if you don't, the ones who really suffer are those around you. And my kids deserve a mom who is at her best. Or whats left of her best after having had triplets.

Sunday, June 27, 2010

Slacker Sunday photo

Someone likes to try on other people's hats...

Even if they aren't really quite right for me....B

Friday, June 25, 2010

A List of Truths

1. Just because they sleep brilliantly from day one does not mean they will on day 55. In fact the purpose is to lull you into a false sense of security that you will not become that sleep walking zombie everyone is in the first few months and then, right when you've gotten rid of the night help, and started participating in life again by taking on daily responsibilities, BAM, there is the sleep deprivation.

2. Just because they are mild mannered and don't cry much does not mean that when they do become an early morning yeller it won't drive you insane just as fast as if they had been crying for months. It's not cumulative, it's instant.

3. 5 am? Get used to it. Try to find pleasure in the chirping birds. Or that one, bloody loud, constantly chirping, right outside your goddamned window, like some type of stupid alarm clock where you can't hit any off switch, want to throw a rock when you usually love birds, stupid happy bird. Find joy in him.

4. Think you're in control of the feeding schedule? Think again. He will eat when he wants, as much as he wants, and if he wants to snack every 2 hours throughout the day and then take real meals at 1, 2 and 3 am? He will.

5. Think you've got that whole breastfeeding thing going just because it's worked for 2 months? Think again. He'll drop your boobs like a hot potato whenever he pleases. And you? Will feel personally insulted.

6. The day you dare to think to yourself "I've got this mother thing down, don't I?" you will be destroyed by every-30-minute wakings the following night. Never, EVER think you've got it under control. That is when the baby or babies make sure you understand who is really in charge. And it isn't you.

7. The minute you tell someone that your child is a sweet, obedient, calm child who only throws tantrums every once in a while is the minute your child develops a tantrum a day habit provoked by anything from boogers on their fingers to you looking at another child in their presence. And those tantrums? Will top anything your fussy, regularly scheduled tantrum child has ever thrown.

8. Tantrums? Come in all shapes and sizes. The best ones? Are saved for the floor of the grocery store.

9. Boogers? Never cease to amaze. They will wake up plastered from head to toe in those things and it's your job to clean them off. It is almost worse than poop.

10. Diapers? Are meant to be taken off in the middle of the night. The only way to prevent this is duct tape and an ever changing parade of pjs too fun to take off for 3 days. Then? More duct tape is the only solution.

11. Baby fatness percentiles (when high) make you feel inordinately proud. As if you did anything that caused it other than contributing your fat genes to the mix. Oh yes, I have a baby in the 99th % of fatness. Did I mention that?

12. Making dinner every night for three very different eaters? Makes you long for formula feeding days. One likes beans, one likes noodles, one likes anything but doesn't want to come to dinner. Every night becomes beans and noodles and vegetables no one eats. yippee.

13. Your sense of humor can be eradicated by lack of sleep. And when you are the type of person who uses humor to get through the hard times? This is a problem. Crying outside the bagel shop while attempting to keep the baby's stroller in constant motion so he wont awaken may be a side effect.

14. You may have only one friend left after having children. And if she's a childless friend you are either really freaking lucky she puts up with you or you owe her money. Or you're a bridesmaid in her wedding and she'd rather not have to find a replacement.

15. If you plan on fitting into a bridesmaid dress 8 months after giving birth? You'd better invest in girdles and diet drinks. Thank god the bride is supposed to look better and thinner than you. In fact, maybe that's why she asked you to be a bridesmaid?

16. Sleep when the baby sleeps is a bunch of garbage. That baby will wake up the instant your head hits the pillow. Instead, keep yourself awake at all costs. Then he will sleep for 3 hours.

17. Sleep deprivation makes for long lists.

Thursday, June 24, 2010

More boob talk

My best friend texted me yesterday: "I hate that my boobs have fallen!" Folks? She's 31 and childless to date. Imagine how saggy her boobs might actually be. Right. Not saggy. And yet she's failed the pencil test apparently. For the first time. And this is a crisis.

Apparently she has never looked at my mother when they're in the same room together. My mom went through a period a couple of years ago where she didn't wear a bra for one reason or another. It terrified me.

People, her boobs were at her belly button.

Why is it, by the way, that one sees all these 70 year old women walking around without bras or if they have bras they should have been burned in the 60s? Do they really just not care anymore about what is happening on their chests or are they trying to scare the crap out of those of us who are younger? I mean,  gravity is inevitable but you don't have to share its consequences! I think we got the idea when we were sneaking peeks at those National Geographic magazines back in grade school thank you very much. Boobs empty out and sag. Especially if you have lots of children. Got it.

And so it begins at 31 or 35 or whenever you've finished breastfeeding infant number x. Deflation. I don't care how perky you were, you ain't never gonna be again. Ok, maybe you A cups have a chance. Nothing for gravity to hang on to. But the rest of us?


And so I mustered up a little bit of sympathy for my young friend with the minutely drooping, young, stretch mark free boobs.

Ok I didn't. But I tried my damndest. I mean, even I have my limits. I'm guessing I'd terrify her if we shared a dressing room. Maybe I should so she would know how good she has it. But then again, we're trying to convince her that having babies is worth it. Might be a tad counterproductive to witness the wrath of breastfeeding?

Just wait until the first hair springs forth in a random previously hairless region girl. Then she can complain about the ridiculous things that happen when you get older. Then I'll have sympathy. Because whiskers? Are only cute on kittens.

Wednesday, June 23, 2010

Thanks dad!

My dad came to me in a dream this morning. And that's pretty hard to do when someone isn't actually getting any REM sleep. So I'm taking it seriously.

Actually I really needed it after the day I had yesterday. I knew he was dead so I was just absorbing his presence as much as I could, soaking in the normalcy of the conversation. He was telling me about how when he got into work that day all the people were running about flustered and kind of crazy and I was thinking to myself "I bet they were seeing as how YOU'RE DEAD AND ALL." I mean imagine if your dead co-worker showed up at work one day. You might be a bit confused.

And so he kept talking and I caught my Aunt Carolyn's eye (his sister) and was all gesturing at him and raising my eyebrows and she says "I know!" like how amazing is it that he's standing right there.

It was cool, because yesterday? Sucked for the most part. SUCKED.

There I was being so good and walking home from the doctor's office instead of getting a ride, despite the fact that there are no sidewalks on the main road (which I actually hadn't noticed ahead of time) so I'm walking on the shoulder of a very busy road like some kind of hobo/hitch-hiker and life throws me another curve.

In fact, when the sidewalks do appear, I fall off the curb like some sort of sleep deprived dork.

And all the cars slowed down to take a look at me sprawled on the concrete. It was a big fall people. The momentum was awesome. Both hands, one knee and onto the ass. Needless to say I lay on the asphalt for a moment and thought about crying. Like a big, blubbering, hasn't had a decent night's sleep in 2 weeks baby.

I almost did, but I didn't.

Because these days only my children can make me cry really. And when your day is going like yesterday? They almost certainly will. Let's just watch and see:

12:30 children return home to mommy
12:45 triplets put down for nap
12:58 first of threats given to B and A for not sleeping
1:15 J asleep, A and B still playing
1:30 After multiple threats, A asleep, B not, and R is due to be put down for nap
1:35 R, A and J asleep. B nowhere near. Remove blanket from B as punishment
1:35:01 B commences howling
1:36 B given blanket back to bribe him to shut the hell up
1:45 B still screwing around, mean mommy gets in face and threatens some more unlikely punishments
2:15 R awakens so excitedly that may have been given crack while mommy not looking
2:19 B still screwing around so mommy carries him bodily to master BR and dumps him on bed with threats not to move
2:19:01 B commences howling
2:20 Mommy curls up in fetal ball on couch and commences howling
2:30 Grandma arrives. Mommy hands off infant and heads to master BR to deal with B
2:35 more ineffective threats
2:45 mommy gets bright idea to lay down with B in bed and snuggle his ass to sleep
2:48 It works! WTH?
2:50 baby is yelling from living room. Yelling, yelling, yelling, yelling.
2:55 mommy extricates herself from B and goes to living room. Grandma stuck on a phone call. Crap.
3:00 mommy makes formula, picks up baby, heads to nursery and feeds and puts him to sleep
3:15 mommy says goodnight to grandma and goes to sleep on floor of master BR

And so it ended. Thank God it was date night and I didn't have to put them to bed. Cause it mighta gotten ugly.

And so today better be better. But I am completely convinced that my children are designed to make me crazier than the crazy I make all by myself.

Tuesday, June 22, 2010

Mister Mom You Ain't

Dear stay at home dads in my building,

Staying at home with your children is a job. Just like mine. It requires constant care of your children until relieved by partner or family members of other varieties. Yes, it means you need to be in the vicinity of your child at all times, not upstairs in your apartment while your 4 year old is unsupervised in the courtyard below. Accessible by any and all people with cars happening to drive by.

You do not live in a village.

By that I mean I am not willing to watch your child for you without being asked and pretty much without you paying me to do so. If you hadn't noticed? I have 4 of my own children to watch. This is not communal childcare. I am not a mom to your child. A 4 year old boy needs watching. I don't care if you've put a helmet on him while he scooters around. That's not what is unsafe about this situation. What is unsafe?

Um, molesters and predators?

Moving vehicles in the parking lot?

Your child deliberately slamming his bicycle into a toddler birthed by a kick ass take no prisoners mommy like me?

Um yeah. Get your kid under control. Is it possible that he misbehaves because of your neglect? Because when he beats up my kids and tries to teach them how to jump off 6 foot tall jungle gyms? I consider marching him up to your apartment in stocks. And punishing YOU.

And other dad of the not as badly behaved kid? When you tell him you'll be gone just a little while while he bikes around the circle? That doesn't mean 30 minutes. How long do you think a 4 year old is content to bicycle around in a circle like you told him to? Right. How tempting is the ramp to the parking lot?


So, let's review. When I call myself a stay at home mom, I consider it a full time occupation. I consider myself to be primarily responsible for my child. I do not make strangers watch or care for my kid. That's called babysitting and it's a paid position.

Get yourself together and do your job.

Your neighbor

Monday, June 21, 2010

Lack of REM psychosis

I had a crappy day yesterday.

Boy that makes you want to read on doesn't it? Another whiney blog by whiney mcwhineyton. Heck I'm even starting to get sick of the sound of my own voice.

But I had such high hopes. I found this farm, you see, that sounded like fun (Tara Firma Farm.) It had hourly tours starting in the morning at the perfect time to get there with the kids, tour, pick out steaks (because they make all their own food of course and it's natural and hormone free and truly free range) and then head to grandma and grandpa's house for a Father's day cookout with the kids.

Well hell. That farm is impressive, and the owners are too. They gave up the corporate life to live the words they believed about how food should really be made and processed and how animals should really be treated and what the label "Organic" should really mean. I mean, because the rest of us idiots actually think the stuff marked 'organic' in the stores is. And we actually believe the animals labeled 'free range' get to move around a bit. Well I knew that last part wasn't true, but what to do about it?

In any case, before I go off on a preachy note, the problem was this: the tour involved a ton of walking.

With two year olds.

In the hot sun.

On crazy uneven surfaces with big rocks and sand and dirt and mud puddles.

Can anyone spell disaster? Or maybe spell 'have to carry toddlers the whole way?'

No, I exaggerate. I only had to carry one. And then he didn't want to go to the chickens, but then he didn't want to leave the chickens and go to the pigs, and then he didn't want to leave the pigs and go back to the car for lunch. Sigh. J? Next time I'm leaving you with the chickens.

But it was interesting, if only for the adults. Just made me feel more guilty about my red meat habit. And my eating of helpless animals habit. And my consumption of the easiest meat available habit. And so on. I am the guiltiest carnivore I know. I'd love to have the stamina to be a vegetarian. But when you don't cook? It's even harder to be a vegetarian. Oh the guilt. All those animals suffer to feed me. Why can't our country have a kind, thoughtfully organized food production process? I feel like the bad karma we create by torturing our animals in life and in death will haunt us eventually.

Whoa, went off on a preachy tangent there, didn't I?

Anyway, after that hot, dusty fiasco, which, by the way, didn't even provide us said steaks because they were out for a week, (slaughter doesn't happen on demand, it happens when the damned cows are the right age and size, naturally,) we headed back to the grandparents house.

Let's just say the baby refused to eat all morning, refused to take his naps as he should have, and basically stressed me out.  Then the triplets refused to take their naps, which they rarely, if ever do. And never after a hot, lots of walking morning. They should have passed out immediately. But not on mommy's terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. That would be too easy.

So, in essence, due to all 4 children conspiring, I had not one 15 minute period to myself to chill yesterday. And yet I kept wondering why I was in such a bad mood all day? Well the obvious notwithstanding, I figured it out halfway through the afternoon. It was Father's day after all. And where was my father? I guess the second father's day is harder than the first after your father dies. During the first one I hadn't missed him for so many things. I hadn't watched my kids grow for 2 years and wished he could witness so many things or chat about the amazing way they grow intellectually. And I hadn't quite forgiven him for leaving me either. So right about now I've had time to do both of those things. And now it hurts like hell.

I'll have to watch out for these minefields more carefully. Because I needed to be extra nice to myself yesterday and warn those around me to do the same. Instead I crashed through the day angry and crying at every 'failure' and on the verge of a breakdown every minute. Not much fun to be around eh?

But today is a new day. The baby, while still awakening every stinking 2 hours, is eating less and less each time he awakens, voluntarily! So, at this rate, we should have nothing to do when he awakens soon and then that sucker can learn how to put his own damned self back to sleep. Oh the glory of one REM cycle. According to Wikipedia lack of sleep causes death in laboratory animals? I am quite aware that I am bordering on lack of REM psychosis. And would I really know if I had already overstepped that line? I mean who's to say I'm not already psychotic? And you just keep your mouth shut husband.

Just know that those of you not driving on bay area roads near where I live are that much safer. And those of you nearby? If you see a car driving off the road with someone asleep at the wheel? That's me.

Friday, June 18, 2010


Getting comfortable with my post pregnancy body is pretty tough. I know, I know, it's only been 4 months.  I know I have a chance that some of this pot belly will reduce on its own still, but I'm pretty sure most of it is up to me. I'm watching the boobs deflate and trying not to take it personally. I'm looking at the gigantathighs and wondering how the heck I'm going to deal with that one. I'm basically feeling like I'm in the worst shape of my life.

Lets face it, I weigh more than I ever have pre pregnancy. And when the kids make me crazy? I eat. My drug of choice is any damned fatty, sugary or salty thing that is bad for me and I want it now and in large quantities.

I can NOT gain any more weight.

And should I decide to take walks in the 90 degree weather with my rickety old stroller and grumpy baby it's uphill straight off. Someone find me the motivation. Because just not looking in the mirror is working fine most days.

Except date night. Date night I have to pull on the Spanx, throw on what is most likely a maternity dress, look in the mirror while I put on my old make up and then go out in public and try to feel good at a nice restaurant with other nice looking people.

And do you wanna know what Spanx do for me? They make me look pregnant. Which would you choose? Fat pooch or fake pregnant belly? Because that lovely spandex that usually makes you suck in and smooth out? Just smooths out my pot belly. And a smooth belly? Looks pregnant.

I keep waiting for someone to ask me when I'm due. And I have no freaking idea what I'm going to say when that happens.

Sure it might help if I got some non-maternity dresses, but who has time to shop and do you really think that standing in a fitting room looking at myself naked is going to help me much?

Yeah, me either. Sigh.

So I trudge on. I keep thinking that soon I will have a recognizable schedule with this young child of mine and then I will work out, oh yes! Truth is I am so not a motivated worker out-er. And diets? They last until a kid stresses me out. Now if only I could convince my brain that a great method of stress relief would be to work out! Wouldn't that be fantastic? Or cleaning house. That would burn calories and clean my world. Why can't I be just the least bit obsessive about cleaning or working out?

Stupid thing to wish for but I'm watching that OCD project on tv right now. I guess I'd rather eat myself to death than become OCD. Small blessings.

Well, thanks for listening. It's another 4 days until another date night, so I shall live in blissful ignorance of the way I look until then.

Thursday, June 17, 2010

Customer Care returns

So, my favorite online ordering service for all things baby has begun to redeem themselves. I just received a call from Brennan, one of the Customer Care Managers. I had a delightful conversation with him about our ongoing troubles and I truly feel heard and understood now.  We discussed how throwing money at me wasn't the answer when all I wanted was an explanation of why my orders, which are promised on the website to come in 24 hours, are suddenly all being delayed.

Apparently, in opening their new website, there have been some warehouse rearranging and a changing of how things get delivered. This caused my string of unfortunate late deliveries. That and one big snafu last week with a missed pick up. I feel like this was a valid explanation and I appreciate the honesty.

I want to let you all know that I do love and, while threatening to leave them, was secretly praying that they would do something, anything, to help me stay. There is nothing better than ordering your diapers, formula and pretty much anything else baby related, and having it show up on your doorstep the next day. As a mom of triplets, I especially need this as running to the store with 3 or 4 kids is NOT HAPPENING.

I ordered some formula today. Let's see what happens!

And I'm pretty excited about the which may prove to save me trips to the store to buy personal products as I understand it. I assume shampoos and bath products and maybe even cleaning supplies? Although I already get my safe for babies cleaning supplies from, perhaps there is more?

Oh, heck, I'm a loyal customer if you treat me right. I'll apparently even advertise without being paid. Let's just see if they can return to the company I once knew and loved. If so, I will return to my formerly less bitchy self when communicating with them!

The return of the blogger

I'm baaaaaack!

This is my commitment to reestablish my blogging daily. Instead of trying to take a nap while baby naps first thing in the morning, which usually only pisses me off due to the shortness of the nap period or my inability to actually sleep, I have decided it's blogging time when possible. I was laying in bed last night thinking of a hundred things I could blog about so I think my mojo may have reappeared on it's own. Let's hope I've come out as funny as before. I don't think pregnancy saps you of your sense of humor. Just lack of sleep does that.

Now, should my impertinent infant actually choose to sleep at night, we might find that my sense of humor returns. I seem to be stuck in an endless loop: I need to sleep train the baby so I can get more sleep but I can't face sleep training the baby until I get more sleep. I'm afraid I'll smother him in the middle of the night when he's crying or not sleeping. Oh, heck I'm close to that already.

It's amazing the psychosis that sets in when you have be denied a REM cycle for weeks. I thought this only happened to new mothers but here I am at month 4 in worse shape than ever. This kid used to sleep in big chunks right from the start. Now? He awakens every 1-2 hours just to kill me. I know he's not hungry. I know I've screwed up somehow. I just don't know how to fix it when I'm having hallucinations due to exhaustion.

The way I see it I have to be in pretty good mental state to beat night waking out of him without actually beating him.

But he is the greatest baby in most other ways. He is so mellow and happy. His smile lights up my world. I wish I could catch it on camera more often, but that poor guy is lucky to have any photos taken of him. Classic last child syndrome. Not a movie has been taken nor a photo in a nice outfit when by this time with the triplets there were hours of movies and pages of photos. All I have are photos of him laying around in cute onesies looking like the pillsbury dough boy.

Good lord he's fat.

This is my modeling pose: "I look casually away from the camera as if at a lover"

Tomorrow we go for our 4 month check up (today is my 4 month birthday!) and we find out how fat he really is. At 2 months he was 97th percentile. Think we can beat that? I think so. He weighed 15lbs 2 months ago. Any bets on how much tomorrow? I wish I had a thing to give away that wasn't used baby clothing or poopy diapers. But guess anyway!

I look forward to finding my funny again with ya'll! Stick around, things might just get hopping around here again!

Wednesday, June 16, 2010


(See update above)

Dear customer support team,

After repeated emails from me and repeated delays in my deliveries from you, here's why you have not even come close to succeeding in retaining my business as of yet:

1. You do not answer every email I send you, making me feel unimportant.

2. When you do answer an email you do not answer it completely, making me feel as if you do not actually read the email I took the time to write, but only skimmed it, filed it under "late order" and sent me a general response.

3. Because you did not read the entire email or research my order history, you continue to respond to my repeated emails as if I have had ONE late order when, in fact, my orders have  been late numerous times in a row. Therefore, your excuse regarding the lateness of that current order is insufficient to explain the pattern of late orders I am experiencing.

4. Your last email was written with grammatical errors and in improper english, making me feel as if you have outsourced your customer support to the lowest bidder, perhaps outside of the US, and staffed your support team with those unqualified to do the job. (See below)

5. You have failed to escalate my email contacts to a manager when clearly a valuable customer is about to be lost and a manager might be able to handle the situation better or, as suggested above, research the ongoing nature of my issues and placate me appropriately with a more detailed, expressive and concerned email response. 

In short, your customer support seems to suck, which truly surprises me. You are a huge company and mommy customers are your business. Mommies with 4 children, such as myself, have to be a great part of your business as we have no time to shop or visit multiple stores to get what we want and ordering from you is the best deal for us. I am truly disappointed in my contact with you as of late and can't help but wonder what is going on in your company that should lead me to have such a bad experience after 2 long great years doing business with you.

I look forward to hearing from someone above the position of customer care representative. Any managers listening?


On Jun 15, 2010, at 9:44 PM, Customer Care wrote:

Dear Ms. Mira xxxx,

I am in receipt of your email regarding your recent order being late and you wanting an answer as to why.  I am very deeply sorry to hear that you have been seeking an explanation that you have not been provided and also a little embarrassed.  The reason for the shipping delays we have recently faced is due to an issue we encountered with one of our shippers.

As the weekend approached, we approached an issue where one of our shippers never came to pick up our orders that were set to arrive for the weekend.  As a result, large amount of our orders were forced in being delayed.  Unfortunately, we have been unable to know exactly what orders were delayed until it came to our attention.  I am very sorry for the inconvenience this has caused you, and for the lack of response you were provided. 

As an apology for the neglect you were provided and the inconvenience of the order arriving late, I have placed a credit onto your account in the amount of $131.27.  This would make your next order on us!  I hope you accept my apology on behalf of  You are one of our most valued customers, and we wish to keep the relationship between you and us going strong.  I hope you have a pleasant night!


Customer Care Representative

Sunday, June 13, 2010

Slacker Sunday photo

I'd be scared if I were that kid in the middle

New hopefully diaper removal foiling jammies!

Sunday, June 6, 2010

Friday, June 4, 2010

an addition

Fine, you need a picture of him smiling to compare? Here ya go...but he's a bit younger (its from several weeks ago)

Now, who do I look like?

Mix and match

Who do I resemble?

Here are my brothers and sister at the same age (adjusted for prematurity):



I think we might have a different kid! And the fatness may obscure some of the similarities, no?

Thursday, June 3, 2010

The reign of terror ends

The boy did it, he finally did it.

Rejected the boob one too many times.

I am SO not sitting on a pump 5 times a day in addition to feeding him 87 times and taking care of triplets and not getting enough sleep at night because he boycotts the boobs during the day and has to therefore eat all his calories at night out of a bottle.

What a little pain in the butt. It's a good thing he's cute as hell.

So now I'm walking around smelling like cooked cabbage, and you know that ain't good, because I have the old fashioned boob remedy of frozen cabbage leaves in the bra going on. I think it is helping but mostly? It's making me hate myself. I stink. And frozen cabbage leaves on tender little boobies? Not good. 

I'm a little sad, but you know I didn't like this stuff anyways. And clearly he didn't much either. So in order to be better friends in this mother/son relationship, I think it's for the best to call it a day. My triplets did fine on formula. And just look what I get to do now?

Drink coffee when I'm not allowed to sleep!
read a book instead of pumping
go to bed at a reasonable hour instead of pumping!
Let other people feed the baby!
Get his butt on a schedule!
get his butt to sleep through the night so I won't need aforementioned coffee to survive!
Get a pretty bra to roll my presumably flat, flappy boobs into in the near future!
Stop eating for 2
Eat whatever I want without worrying about the consequences to the drinker of my milk
Wear a bra without a pad for leaks
Be away from home for more than 4 hours without breastfeeding or pumping!
Wake up in the morning not all sore and full and desperately in need of a pump before anything else
Wake up in the morning and clean my face or take a shower instead of pumping
Go to bed on time instead of waiting for the pumping hour to arrive

Oh my goodness. It's like utopia. I just shudder to think what the girls are gonna look like though. Shudder. Oh the abuse. Oh the stretch marks and loss of volume. I have to say that I am a highly likely candidate for plastic surgery in the next 10 years. I am that vain. I just have to lose the 50 extra pounds I blame on my children before I can even think of such a thing. 

50 lbs? Gah!

Another day.