Simba, the cat with a very small brain and super smelly urine, 1. Me, with the large brain and no cleaning product that seems to deter him from peeing on things other than litter, 0.
So. We all know about the cat and how when we first moved in here, I brought the neighbor's cat into the house to "make friends" with Simba. Well, Simba hates cats. I must've had a memory lapse at the time and forgotten how there had been a towel to block him from seeing the cat in the cage next to him when we'd adopted him. I must have forgotten how he'd hissed at the cat when the towel was removed. He must think he's the only cat that belongs anywhere near this house as well. Anyway, after my not so great introduction of the two cats, which ended with the other cat cowering near the front door and Simba poised to attack - I removed the cat from the house. Shortly thereafter, Simba began marking his territory. I tried to clean the carpet where he peed; but it quickly grew out of hand. Nothing took out the smell completely, and he stopped peeing in the litter box all together. He'd marked the entire carpet area around the tiled front entrance. I was defeated, completely. Still, I toiled on, trying to cover the carpet and block the assault; buying $25 bottles of pet cleaner. I never won. It always lingered. When Adam returned from Iraq, we pulled up the carpet and layed down hardwood flooring instead. It was the most disgusting thing I ever saw or smelled when we ripped that carpet up. It truly looked like I had done nothing.
Now, the assault has begun again. But this time, the target are our couches. Once, we went away for a week and left Simba here. Ortiz and Rylee checked on him frequently, at least once a day. They must've had the scent of their cats on them one visit, because we returned to a couch covered in cat urine smell. When we talked to them, they told us that yes, they had been sitting where the smell was. It seemed as though we'd won when we removed the covers to the cushions and laundered them; treating the filler with bleach and vinegar and whatever else took away the smell. Nope. Now, he marks both sofas, whenever no one is home. When we had the Saldanas staying with us, it began again. I don't know what to do. I'm having hometown carpet cleaners, a local house and carpet cleaning company come and clean the sofas. They have a process that removes the urine crystals and/or dissolves them; then they steam clean the sofas. If this doesn't work, we'll have to get new couches. I've already thrown out all the filling for all the throw pillows; there's no way to clean it and retain the shape. I don't want to have to buy new furniture. I just want a cat that doesn't piss all over the place.
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
29Sept2009 - Day 53
Today was, to put a positive spin on it, challenging. I was in a fantastic mood this morning, until I walked into work. I really like to just leave work at work, but let's just say that I am sick and tired of being treated disrespectfully by managers, two of them specifically. I am closer to thirty than thirteen, and truly do my job with the utmost of professionalism. The longer I work here, the more I feel the need to branch out on my own. More than anything, I want to own my own bar. It seems so far away, so out of reach. And the only reason I say that is because of the financial risk, and capital needed to even think about doing it. I am 100% positive that if $100,000 fell into my lap, I would open an incredibly successful restaurant and bar. Perhaps, I need to focus on that fact, and that will help me to secure the capital that I need. It's not like right now, with Adam in the military and our lives so transient and up in the air, is really a good time to be thinking about it anyway. Still, it's days like today that really get me thinking.
Taylor is still amazing. It's because of her that I am able to leave work at work every day. When I am not in that building, none of the nonsense that goes on there matters even a little bit. (On a side note, I am watching biggest loser for the first time. What is so addicting about watching morbidly obese people try not to eat cupcakes and sweat all over themselves? It's almost wrong.)
Anyway, she didn't cry when she saw me today at Darina's. It felt good. I know that I say it doesn't bother me when she does; but maybe it does smart just a little. We left Darina's and headed to Costco for diapers and wipes. I decided while we were there that we would stay for dinner...lol. So we shared a slice of pizza and a churro. That's when it happened. I feel like I say that alot, "that's when it happened". It happens a lot when you aren't expecting it and you have a 14month old. It is usually messy, smelly, crying, hurt, bleeding, poopy, peeing through its diapers, snotty, drooling, throwing food, or eating something gross. Not that it is Taylor, just usually something yucky or terrifying that she does. She was sitting next to me on the picnic bench, eating pizza, and all of a sudden she fell backwards- on her head- in front of a bunch of people. Immediately I scooped her up, after gasping "oh my god!", and comforted her; and that must have eased the upsetness of the surrounding parents because everyone resumed their pizza and hot dog eating. Her crying was brief, as it always is - perhaps because her attention is also brief. For churro time, she sat securely in the cart. At home it was business as usual, and before I knew it, I was putting her to bed and hadn't even changed out of my work clothes.
On a positive note, the class six called to tell me that my special order beer was in. I had gone in and asked them if they could order some "Ironhorse Irish Death", which is a draft that I'd had at McNamara's in Dupont. It's brewed in Ellensburg, WA and is perhaps my favorite beer ever. They call it a dark smooth ale. I call it heaven in a glass. It's dark, and malty, and delicious. I bought a case, which is 12 22oz bottles. I plan on either saving or buying more for Adam.
Time to take the dog out.
Taylor is still amazing. It's because of her that I am able to leave work at work every day. When I am not in that building, none of the nonsense that goes on there matters even a little bit. (On a side note, I am watching biggest loser for the first time. What is so addicting about watching morbidly obese people try not to eat cupcakes and sweat all over themselves? It's almost wrong.)
Anyway, she didn't cry when she saw me today at Darina's. It felt good. I know that I say it doesn't bother me when she does; but maybe it does smart just a little. We left Darina's and headed to Costco for diapers and wipes. I decided while we were there that we would stay for dinner...lol. So we shared a slice of pizza and a churro. That's when it happened. I feel like I say that alot, "that's when it happened". It happens a lot when you aren't expecting it and you have a 14month old. It is usually messy, smelly, crying, hurt, bleeding, poopy, peeing through its diapers, snotty, drooling, throwing food, or eating something gross. Not that it is Taylor, just usually something yucky or terrifying that she does. She was sitting next to me on the picnic bench, eating pizza, and all of a sudden she fell backwards- on her head- in front of a bunch of people. Immediately I scooped her up, after gasping "oh my god!", and comforted her; and that must have eased the upsetness of the surrounding parents because everyone resumed their pizza and hot dog eating. Her crying was brief, as it always is - perhaps because her attention is also brief. For churro time, she sat securely in the cart. At home it was business as usual, and before I knew it, I was putting her to bed and hadn't even changed out of my work clothes.
On a positive note, the class six called to tell me that my special order beer was in. I had gone in and asked them if they could order some "Ironhorse Irish Death", which is a draft that I'd had at McNamara's in Dupont. It's brewed in Ellensburg, WA and is perhaps my favorite beer ever. They call it a dark smooth ale. I call it heaven in a glass. It's dark, and malty, and delicious. I bought a case, which is 12 22oz bottles. I plan on either saving or buying more for Adam.
Time to take the dog out.
Monday, September 28, 2009
28Sept2009 - Day 52
Ah, glorious day of not feeling nauseous! I feel like I've been sick so much since having Taylor. Taylor ate today, which she hadn't been most of the weekend since throwing up. She had two entire veggie sausages. The Little Gym was great, although I noticed that Taylor seemed to really have much more independence than the other children. I wondered if it was normal for her to have so little interest in joining us all in the circle for song time and other various activities. She really only wanted to participate in the activities that were very physical in nature, and to otherwise explore the gym, climbing and practicing walking on the low balance beam. I didn't mind that she wanted to do her own thing, I just didn't know if I should try to discourage it or just allow her to explore. I think she just doesn't like to be still. Sabrina had a different thought on it. She approached it from the thought that children need to be trained and that she would train Taylor to know when it was appropriate for her to explore, and when it wasn't. I agreed there, too. I guess I am conflicted. I just wonder if she's too young to really stifle her curiosity. Then I wonder if I am going to keep on telling myself that. I think, honestly, I should just trust my insticts. I think I will know when it is time to rein her in. ( I so almost put reign. lol) As for her little gym classes, I will definitely take the advice of the instructor; because today it worked. She said that if I ignore her exploring at the wrong times, she'll come to us when she sees we aren't paying attention to her. It seemed to work today. I know it won't always work; sometimes she'll just want to explore. But, it seemed unnatural to not encourage her to come to the group. Oddly, though, that is when she came. We ignored, and sung and she just came running up and stood next to the instructor, staring at her. It was strange, and somehow it made me feel better that she was there. I was also feeling a little uncomfortable, because she was just standing there staring at her. It made me worried that something was wrong with her. Does she have ADD? Does she have autism? I'm sure none of these things are true, but when your little one is odd girl out, and totally marching to the beat of some other random drum; you wonder. Then I realized, she is her own girl. She does have her own drums with her own beat. And I am here to help her learn to dance her best dance to that beat, whether that beat is in the circle or not.
I've felt a lot lately that Sabrina and I have really been connecting. I feel like our friendship is strengthening, growing. We are communicating more, and I feel like she's really opened up to me. I also feel like she's really, truly been there for me since Adam has left. I feel much more supported this deployment than the last. I also feel like I am much more vocal about my feelings. I am more vocal about my needs, and I think that Taylor's irresistable adorableness doesn't hurt. They are a great aunt and uncle, and babysit whenever they can or whenever I need help even if it's last minute meet-me-at-the-starbucks-on-the-side-of-the-highway, and come to her little gym classes even when hungover. I am truly lucky to have them as friends, although I consider them family more than friends.
I've been whining about how I can't get housework done, no time, sheer exhaustion at the end of the day, and Taylor running all over the place. I told Sabrina and Rylee that I was thinking of getting a woman to clean the house, you know, do a really good deep cleaning, for my birthday present from Adam. (lol, he didn't know that!) She actually said that she'd come over and help instead. She is willing to scrub my bathtub that hasn't been scrubbed since, gulp, I have no idea when. In my defense, I clean the toilet and sinks and lysol almost every other surface of the house pretty regularly. Well, most surfaces. Ok, so my housekeeping has definitely gone down hill since I've had Taylor...Since I was pregnant, and couldn't clean...Since Adam came home from Iraq and brought his stuff and messiness...ok fine. Since I didn't live with Sabrina anymore. I am not as clean as I thought. I'm not as bad as when Adam is here, but I just really can't even keep up anymore. I think I am trying more than normal, but between Taylor pulling everything out that I put away, and the animals, and working...ugh. I'm sick of myself complaining. Today I tackled a few things that have been driving me nuts since Adam came home from Iraq.
I love him, but men are different. Maybe he will understand this. I view the house the way he views the garage. He wants organization. He gets mad when I am the cause of disorganization in his garage. He sometimes blames me for disorganization in his garage unfairly. I clean his garage. This is all the same for the house. The drawer organizers in his tool box for each screwdriver to fit snugly into can be compared to a clean and organized linen closet. I now know that we have way too many extra towels. (Yet, somehow, I couldn't bring myself to throw them out?!) I also now know exactly where the ibuprofen is, and the ten bottles of sunscreen that we have because I could never find any and kept buying more. We have enough sunscreen to shield the entire Seattle metro area for an entire year. (which is less than one may think, considering the limited sun we get during the fall, winter and spring) I organized the drawers in the kitchen, throwing out six bags of dog treats and cat treats that are old and crusty and that the cat had somehow clawed into the bags of, spilling them into the drawers. I found a pork tenderloin left over from May 28 (yes, it's the end of September) that had fallen behind the drawers in the refrigerator. I threw away an entire trash bag of bathroom products that I don't use, need, or want- yet still had. I accomplished a lot. I put away all Taylor's summer clothes, to make room for the fall ones. It seems an ongoing, never ending task just to keep up with rotating her wardrobe properly. Between the changing seasons, and the fact that she grows out of things so quickly; I am constantly rotating clothing, shoes, socks.
How can someone so small have so much stuff? And be so much work? Oh, thank heaven for little girls....but not for all their stuff!!!!!
I've felt a lot lately that Sabrina and I have really been connecting. I feel like our friendship is strengthening, growing. We are communicating more, and I feel like she's really opened up to me. I also feel like she's really, truly been there for me since Adam has left. I feel much more supported this deployment than the last. I also feel like I am much more vocal about my feelings. I am more vocal about my needs, and I think that Taylor's irresistable adorableness doesn't hurt. They are a great aunt and uncle, and babysit whenever they can or whenever I need help even if it's last minute meet-me-at-the-starbucks-on-the-side-of-the-highway, and come to her little gym classes even when hungover. I am truly lucky to have them as friends, although I consider them family more than friends.
I've been whining about how I can't get housework done, no time, sheer exhaustion at the end of the day, and Taylor running all over the place. I told Sabrina and Rylee that I was thinking of getting a woman to clean the house, you know, do a really good deep cleaning, for my birthday present from Adam. (lol, he didn't know that!) She actually said that she'd come over and help instead. She is willing to scrub my bathtub that hasn't been scrubbed since, gulp, I have no idea when. In my defense, I clean the toilet and sinks and lysol almost every other surface of the house pretty regularly. Well, most surfaces. Ok, so my housekeeping has definitely gone down hill since I've had Taylor...Since I was pregnant, and couldn't clean...Since Adam came home from Iraq and brought his stuff and messiness...ok fine. Since I didn't live with Sabrina anymore. I am not as clean as I thought. I'm not as bad as when Adam is here, but I just really can't even keep up anymore. I think I am trying more than normal, but between Taylor pulling everything out that I put away, and the animals, and working...ugh. I'm sick of myself complaining. Today I tackled a few things that have been driving me nuts since Adam came home from Iraq.
I love him, but men are different. Maybe he will understand this. I view the house the way he views the garage. He wants organization. He gets mad when I am the cause of disorganization in his garage. He sometimes blames me for disorganization in his garage unfairly. I clean his garage. This is all the same for the house. The drawer organizers in his tool box for each screwdriver to fit snugly into can be compared to a clean and organized linen closet. I now know that we have way too many extra towels. (Yet, somehow, I couldn't bring myself to throw them out?!) I also now know exactly where the ibuprofen is, and the ten bottles of sunscreen that we have because I could never find any and kept buying more. We have enough sunscreen to shield the entire Seattle metro area for an entire year. (which is less than one may think, considering the limited sun we get during the fall, winter and spring) I organized the drawers in the kitchen, throwing out six bags of dog treats and cat treats that are old and crusty and that the cat had somehow clawed into the bags of, spilling them into the drawers. I found a pork tenderloin left over from May 28 (yes, it's the end of September) that had fallen behind the drawers in the refrigerator. I threw away an entire trash bag of bathroom products that I don't use, need, or want- yet still had. I accomplished a lot. I put away all Taylor's summer clothes, to make room for the fall ones. It seems an ongoing, never ending task just to keep up with rotating her wardrobe properly. Between the changing seasons, and the fact that she grows out of things so quickly; I am constantly rotating clothing, shoes, socks.
How can someone so small have so much stuff? And be so much work? Oh, thank heaven for little girls....but not for all their stuff!!!!!
27Sept2009 - Day 51
Ugh. So, as I was finishing last night's blog...nausea crept over me. I thought it was nothing, so I went to bed. It was nausea that reminded me of the motion sickness that I felt the first day and a half of the cruise. I went to sleep, only to be awoken (awakened?) at about 12:30am running to the bathroom to throw up. Then again at 1:30, and 2:30, and sometime during the 3am hour...and then there was no more left to throw up. But still, again at 4something, 5 something, and 6 something I ran to the toilet. I remember hugging it, clinging to it really. At some point, I am pretty sure I puked on my hair. I also think I was laying on the bathroom floor directly in a small tumbleweed of cat hair. It was all pretty wretched. I texted and called the Delmos sometime in the early morning asking, almost begging them to come get Taylor around 7 or 8 am for me. I knew there would be no way I could function, let alone care for another human being. Besides getting zero sleep, I felt like I was going to vom every time I stood up.
And thank you thank you Delmos. Sabrina came, almost uncannily perfect in her timing, just as Taylor was waking up. She took her, and I went back to sleep. Until Adam called. Our conversation was brief, as I was on death's doorstep. Then mom called. Then Adam's mom called. I didn't answer. I just needed sleep. I woke up sometime shortly after noon, and hobbled into the shower to wash the vomit out of my hair. Shockingly, I didn't have to throw up again; but feeling totally dehydrated and terrified to drink anything, I sipped a tiny bit of water. Talking to mom confirmed that I needed to leave and (gulp) drive to go get some coke to settle my belly. Apparently, keeping a few cans in the fridge is something I am now supposed to do at all times. (Another thing that is not in the manual.) So I manage to get to the gas station, looking I'm sure a hot mess. I called Delmo to let him know that I'd be over.
I had packed my things for the night, as I was pretty sure we'd be going to Taylor's class in the morning. I figured that since I hadn't puked again, I was safe to assume the worst was over. I grabbed two liter sized bottles of coca cola classic. (I still prefer cans, but they didn't have any) Just as I was about to leave, something caught my eye.
Jack in the Box had pumpkin spice milkshakes. Oh, the sweet temptation. I decided to get one. I'd take my chances. Besides, milk always settled my belly when I was hungover when I was younger. I grabbed a small sized shake, and was on my way.
In the car, I managed a few swallows of the milkshake. It was ridiculously sweet. No more of that for me. Craving was satisfied, anyway. Arriving at the Delmos, Sadie and a few liters of coke in tow, I heard her before I even got to the door. She was whining. She was fussy. She was punky pants. Poor Delmo; he said she was punky pants all day. I knew she probably wasn't feeling great, and that she was definitely teething. So, we rested awhile, then took a bath. Sabrina arrived from work, with the baby orajel and infant motrin drops that I'd requested. Upon administering the orajel, she grimaced, cried out and then was slightly placated. I think the numbing feeling scared her a bit. She drank a bit of her bottle and fell into a peaceful slumber. I rejoined the Delmos downstairs, and we watched the Cleveland show, Family Guy, and Extreme Makeover: Home Edition. Afterwards, I went upstairs and fell into a peaceful slumber.
And thank you thank you Delmos. Sabrina came, almost uncannily perfect in her timing, just as Taylor was waking up. She took her, and I went back to sleep. Until Adam called. Our conversation was brief, as I was on death's doorstep. Then mom called. Then Adam's mom called. I didn't answer. I just needed sleep. I woke up sometime shortly after noon, and hobbled into the shower to wash the vomit out of my hair. Shockingly, I didn't have to throw up again; but feeling totally dehydrated and terrified to drink anything, I sipped a tiny bit of water. Talking to mom confirmed that I needed to leave and (gulp) drive to go get some coke to settle my belly. Apparently, keeping a few cans in the fridge is something I am now supposed to do at all times. (Another thing that is not in the manual.) So I manage to get to the gas station, looking I'm sure a hot mess. I called Delmo to let him know that I'd be over.
I had packed my things for the night, as I was pretty sure we'd be going to Taylor's class in the morning. I figured that since I hadn't puked again, I was safe to assume the worst was over. I grabbed two liter sized bottles of coca cola classic. (I still prefer cans, but they didn't have any) Just as I was about to leave, something caught my eye.
Jack in the Box had pumpkin spice milkshakes. Oh, the sweet temptation. I decided to get one. I'd take my chances. Besides, milk always settled my belly when I was hungover when I was younger. I grabbed a small sized shake, and was on my way.
In the car, I managed a few swallows of the milkshake. It was ridiculously sweet. No more of that for me. Craving was satisfied, anyway. Arriving at the Delmos, Sadie and a few liters of coke in tow, I heard her before I even got to the door. She was whining. She was fussy. She was punky pants. Poor Delmo; he said she was punky pants all day. I knew she probably wasn't feeling great, and that she was definitely teething. So, we rested awhile, then took a bath. Sabrina arrived from work, with the baby orajel and infant motrin drops that I'd requested. Upon administering the orajel, she grimaced, cried out and then was slightly placated. I think the numbing feeling scared her a bit. She drank a bit of her bottle and fell into a peaceful slumber. I rejoined the Delmos downstairs, and we watched the Cleveland show, Family Guy, and Extreme Makeover: Home Edition. Afterwards, I went upstairs and fell into a peaceful slumber.
Saturday, September 26, 2009
26Sept2009 - Day 50
Ah, the joys of not getting up and going to work. For one, I don't have to wear all black. For two, I don't have to wear ugly shoes. For three, it was a beautiful freakin' day and I got to spend it with all my girls. Taylor, with me of course, Sabrina and I went to Rylee's craft fair thing. On the way I didn't know what to expect, and as we drove further into Graham (aka the middle of almost nowhere)(think rural suburb, where turning right onto the road the house was on led down an unpaved road...) we were a touch nervous and pondering which horror movie plot involving pitchforks and old trucks was going to come true. If you hear the song, run! (jeepers creepers...)
We arrived to a log cabin? (random, considering it wasn't in the mountains) with lots of little gazebo tents set up pawning their hand-crafted wares. It was great! There were twelve different vendors, some antique refinishing, some candles with no fire, a donut tent, another one where everything was french...you know writing it down makes it sound a lot weirder and suckier than it was. It was, in fact, great. I bought a beautiful ____ for Dana. (I know she reads this). I got Taylor a rocking chair that's just her size...ate some yummy fresh little mini donuts, and ordered a custom made apron (sounds crazy, but they're adorable!) for myself. Afterwards, I dropped Sabrina at home so she could go to work and Taylor and I went to Ikea. I wanted to look for a toy chest and small table and chairs for her. Darina has a set, and the kids eat there now. I thought she might enjoy it. We had a blast at Ikea, but she was a touch cranky. I really think she has a tummy bug. I didn't get any table or chairs, but I did find a play rug. It is exactly what I wanted, a little rug with a city scape on it and roads to drive little cars on. I got a runner for the dining room table, and a pillow for the couch since Simba has ruined all of the rest of the small ones.
Since we got a car playmat, and Taylor owns no cars, I thought it an appropriate time to go to Toys R Us. We went and she truly had a great time. I didn't take the stroller in, allowing her to guide me in the store instead. I did lead her a bit, because she tended to spend an awfully long time at the beginning of the store playing with a price tag hanging in front of halloween candy. She spent a ton of time at the "you and me" doll section. I would have bought one for her, but I was totally overwhelmed by the selection. If I'd gone by what she had an interest in, we'd have come out of the store with an african american doll. Her gravitation towards it made me ask myself if I would buy it. It seems that, as parents, people always encourage their child to get a doll that looks like them. Why is that? Wouldn't it be better for her to have dolls of all hair, skin and eye colors? I don't know the future implications of my doll choices for her as a young child, but I will definitely be reading up on what they might be. I really feel like I should get the doll that she wants, regardless of what it looks like. After the dolls, we went to the preschool section. She kept going to the "popper" thing that kids push and the balls pop inside and make noise. A few things about the popper. One, we have one. Two, I was extremely impressed by her ability to get the popper off of the small metal hook. She reached for it, and did it with such dexterity that I was truly taken aback.
After steering her from the popper, we explored all the preschool aisles and she busily littered each one with various stuffed animals before we saw the little wagon/stroller? Looking it up, it's the Step2 Ride Whisper Ride buggy in pink. It was great. I could push her around, and she enjoyed the ride around all the bicycles. I think I will get it for christmas. Instead, we opted for two of the balls in the big bins that you always want when you go to toys r us. The same balls that absolutely no child can walk by without taking one out...I also got two small, cushy and plastic cars for her mat. Lastly, we got a basketball net and ball for her age and it grows with her. She really enjoyed the one at the little gym, so I firgured it would be great for her at home.
After Ikea, we came home and her to bed shortly afterwards. Now it's tired mommy's turn.
We arrived to a log cabin? (random, considering it wasn't in the mountains) with lots of little gazebo tents set up pawning their hand-crafted wares. It was great! There were twelve different vendors, some antique refinishing, some candles with no fire, a donut tent, another one where everything was french...you know writing it down makes it sound a lot weirder and suckier than it was. It was, in fact, great. I bought a beautiful ____ for Dana. (I know she reads this). I got Taylor a rocking chair that's just her size...ate some yummy fresh little mini donuts, and ordered a custom made apron (sounds crazy, but they're adorable!) for myself. Afterwards, I dropped Sabrina at home so she could go to work and Taylor and I went to Ikea. I wanted to look for a toy chest and small table and chairs for her. Darina has a set, and the kids eat there now. I thought she might enjoy it. We had a blast at Ikea, but she was a touch cranky. I really think she has a tummy bug. I didn't get any table or chairs, but I did find a play rug. It is exactly what I wanted, a little rug with a city scape on it and roads to drive little cars on. I got a runner for the dining room table, and a pillow for the couch since Simba has ruined all of the rest of the small ones.
Since we got a car playmat, and Taylor owns no cars, I thought it an appropriate time to go to Toys R Us. We went and she truly had a great time. I didn't take the stroller in, allowing her to guide me in the store instead. I did lead her a bit, because she tended to spend an awfully long time at the beginning of the store playing with a price tag hanging in front of halloween candy. She spent a ton of time at the "you and me" doll section. I would have bought one for her, but I was totally overwhelmed by the selection. If I'd gone by what she had an interest in, we'd have come out of the store with an african american doll. Her gravitation towards it made me ask myself if I would buy it. It seems that, as parents, people always encourage their child to get a doll that looks like them. Why is that? Wouldn't it be better for her to have dolls of all hair, skin and eye colors? I don't know the future implications of my doll choices for her as a young child, but I will definitely be reading up on what they might be. I really feel like I should get the doll that she wants, regardless of what it looks like. After the dolls, we went to the preschool section. She kept going to the "popper" thing that kids push and the balls pop inside and make noise. A few things about the popper. One, we have one. Two, I was extremely impressed by her ability to get the popper off of the small metal hook. She reached for it, and did it with such dexterity that I was truly taken aback.
After steering her from the popper, we explored all the preschool aisles and she busily littered each one with various stuffed animals before we saw the little wagon/stroller? Looking it up, it's the Step2 Ride Whisper Ride buggy in pink. It was great. I could push her around, and she enjoyed the ride around all the bicycles. I think I will get it for christmas. Instead, we opted for two of the balls in the big bins that you always want when you go to toys r us. The same balls that absolutely no child can walk by without taking one out...I also got two small, cushy and plastic cars for her mat. Lastly, we got a basketball net and ball for her age and it grows with her. She really enjoyed the one at the little gym, so I firgured it would be great for her at home.
After Ikea, we came home and her to bed shortly afterwards. Now it's tired mommy's turn.
Friday, September 25, 2009
25Sept2009 - Day 49
Today does not feel like the beginning of the weekend. The other day when I went to pick Taylor up from Darina's, she waved goodbye, told me goodbye to me and turned away to play some more. When I attempted to pick her up to take her to the car, she threw a fit. I believe I discussed this previously. I believe I understood. I believe my feelings weren't hurt.
Well, today as soon as she saw me, she started to cry and reach for Darina. I still get it. But, I think I prefer the enthusiasm she used to have when she saw me. She used to get so excited to see me, and run to me and want to pull me all around to show me what was going on there, to share toys...I wonder if she'll ever be excited to see me again?
After work, which was busy enough to keep me occupied for the day, I went to get her and the usual routine ensued. In the car, I couldn't tell if there would be a nap or not. There wasn't, so we both took Sadie for a walk and got the mail. Inside, I prepared dinner and started her out with some mandarin orange wedges while she waited. She also enjoyed some Phineas and Ferb on Disney Channel. I noticed, as I sat down with my dinner, that she hadn't even touched one of the slices of fruit. Very unlike her. I reasoned that she'd had a late snack, and as it was only 5:30, that she wasn't hungry. She confirmed my thought by reaching for me, and attempting to get out of the chair. Just as I had the tray removed, and was unbuckling her - it happened.
She let out a small wail, leading me to believe she just wanted to get up, but instead a horror movieesque amount of vomit came out of her mouth and onto her, the chair, and the floor. I didn't know what to do, so I tried to get her up quicker, and then she did it again! I've never seen so much vomit. Let alone, tried to catch it. Or from such a small person. Or without any sort of verbal warning. Or other symptom. It was real puke, too. Not cute baby puke. I'm talking violent spewing of a massive amount of chunky liquid. In case you were wondering, yes. It was extremely traumatizing. I grabbed her up, holding her away from me (which killed me, because I wanted to comfort and cuddle her but she was covered in puke) and took her to her bathroom to undress and bathe her. After undressing, and a brief wiping off of chunks, I placed her in her crib to go clean the mess up and start the bath. As soon as I got downstairs, I spied it.
The second grossest thing of the night. Sadie was on her two legs, stretching, tongue out to get all the juicy bits out of the corner of the high chair. I was repulsed. There was literally nothing to clean up, except what was left on the chair. This, more than the actual expulsion, made me want to be sick. She had literally licked it ALL up. It made me shudder. I cleaned up what was left, and went back up to administer the bath.
I called Darina to see if she'd eaten too much, something weird, or had been sick at all. No answer. I called mom to find out what to do. No answer. I was on my own. I panicked for a few seconds, then let me instincts take over. I actually made a conscious decision to do what I felt intuitively. Weird. I relaxed, noting that she seemed just fine, and tried my best to relax and comfort her.
Needless to say, my dinner, which was still sitting on the table untouched, did not get eaten. I threw it out, because I just was not hungry. Eventually both mom and Darina called back. Nothing odd from Darina, and mom suggested coke. It settles the belly. Put a bra on, and drove the two of us up to the gas station. I ran in quickly, and grabbed Taylor a small coke. At home, she attempted to drink some from a regular cup. She did wear a good bit of it, warranting a wardrobe change, but injested enough of it to make me feel a bit better.
She's in bed now, without a bottle tonight, and my only worry is that she'll throw up again and choke on it in her sleep. Because of my paranoia, I'll probably scoop her up to sleep in my bed tonight. Just in case.
Well, today as soon as she saw me, she started to cry and reach for Darina. I still get it. But, I think I prefer the enthusiasm she used to have when she saw me. She used to get so excited to see me, and run to me and want to pull me all around to show me what was going on there, to share toys...I wonder if she'll ever be excited to see me again?
After work, which was busy enough to keep me occupied for the day, I went to get her and the usual routine ensued. In the car, I couldn't tell if there would be a nap or not. There wasn't, so we both took Sadie for a walk and got the mail. Inside, I prepared dinner and started her out with some mandarin orange wedges while she waited. She also enjoyed some Phineas and Ferb on Disney Channel. I noticed, as I sat down with my dinner, that she hadn't even touched one of the slices of fruit. Very unlike her. I reasoned that she'd had a late snack, and as it was only 5:30, that she wasn't hungry. She confirmed my thought by reaching for me, and attempting to get out of the chair. Just as I had the tray removed, and was unbuckling her - it happened.
She let out a small wail, leading me to believe she just wanted to get up, but instead a horror movieesque amount of vomit came out of her mouth and onto her, the chair, and the floor. I didn't know what to do, so I tried to get her up quicker, and then she did it again! I've never seen so much vomit. Let alone, tried to catch it. Or from such a small person. Or without any sort of verbal warning. Or other symptom. It was real puke, too. Not cute baby puke. I'm talking violent spewing of a massive amount of chunky liquid. In case you were wondering, yes. It was extremely traumatizing. I grabbed her up, holding her away from me (which killed me, because I wanted to comfort and cuddle her but she was covered in puke) and took her to her bathroom to undress and bathe her. After undressing, and a brief wiping off of chunks, I placed her in her crib to go clean the mess up and start the bath. As soon as I got downstairs, I spied it.
The second grossest thing of the night. Sadie was on her two legs, stretching, tongue out to get all the juicy bits out of the corner of the high chair. I was repulsed. There was literally nothing to clean up, except what was left on the chair. This, more than the actual expulsion, made me want to be sick. She had literally licked it ALL up. It made me shudder. I cleaned up what was left, and went back up to administer the bath.
I called Darina to see if she'd eaten too much, something weird, or had been sick at all. No answer. I called mom to find out what to do. No answer. I was on my own. I panicked for a few seconds, then let me instincts take over. I actually made a conscious decision to do what I felt intuitively. Weird. I relaxed, noting that she seemed just fine, and tried my best to relax and comfort her.
Needless to say, my dinner, which was still sitting on the table untouched, did not get eaten. I threw it out, because I just was not hungry. Eventually both mom and Darina called back. Nothing odd from Darina, and mom suggested coke. It settles the belly. Put a bra on, and drove the two of us up to the gas station. I ran in quickly, and grabbed Taylor a small coke. At home, she attempted to drink some from a regular cup. She did wear a good bit of it, warranting a wardrobe change, but injested enough of it to make me feel a bit better.
She's in bed now, without a bottle tonight, and my only worry is that she'll throw up again and choke on it in her sleep. Because of my paranoia, I'll probably scoop her up to sleep in my bed tonight. Just in case.
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