Cute as a Button.

Dear Diary, 


     Clothes like this are so. dang. cute. But I cringe when I see all those dang buttons. Why, you might ask? Because no matter how awesome I think I am at aligning them correctly, once I get to the bottom, they are all wrong. And I have to start over. And if your babies are impatient like mine, and end up staring at you like, "Mom! Don't you know how to put on a onesie?", you get a bit irritated. Little children are squirmy, slippery, floppy-like-a-fish-out-of-water type of creatures. Add onesies with a thousand buttons into the mix and you're in for a stressful disaster. Needless to say, there are some days that we all just stay in our pajamas. It's easier. I have now become a true believer in zippers. For the love of all moms, let's nix the buttons. 


Sincerely, 


Me.

Uh, Oh.

Dear Diary, 

This is totally me. I might have aged a few too many years by having children. 

Sincerely, 

Me.

Oh What A Day.

Dear Diary, 


     Is the week half over yet? Oh, good. It is. What is it called...Hump Day! That's right. Why someone had to go naming it such a stupid, double meaning, fun-for-all-the-sickos type of name is beyond me. But I do indeed feel like I am at the peak of craziness in my week. Where to begin. 


     This morning, my little nugget woke me up 2 hours earlier than usual. (Someone just please poke me in the eye.)I went and got her, brought her to my bed and rolled over like a big momma sow while she ate. In the past, I've been sitting up and nursing her against a couch or a wall or my bed headboard. Why? Because I am a moron and did not realize there were easier ways to nurse a child. We all got dressed and went downstairs to begin our day. My toddler was coughing and wheezing like a broken squeezy toy so I decided to call the trusty ole doc. We got him an appointment smack dab in the middle of nap time. (Love that.) Before the appointment, my little girl needed to eat again. I fed her, burped her and barfed her. Yes, you read that right. This girl is like those soft serve ice cream* machines from an all you can eat Chinese buffet. Always leaking.(*Don't let those Asians fool you. That ice cream is made with water, not milk. Like McDonalds. So don't be trusting white people either.)


     Earlier in the day, we cleaned our living room rug outside by hanging it over the wall and power spraying it. Last night the babe decided to take a quick potty on it and dad accidentally knocked over my son's cup of orange juice. All this happened seconds before I had to rush out of the house to get a filling fixed. (Which was awful. Three shots later and some nitrous oxide and I was still sweating from every pore. I told my husband, if it's not the equivalent of knocking me across the head with a frying pan, don't bother giving it to me. I am still awake and I still hate the dentist.)


     Anyway, my little man got soaked from the hose while cleaning the rug and by the time we needed to go to our appointment, we all needed two things. 1. A change of clothes and 2. A diaper change. Yes, that included me. I'm hoping this IUD does its job because after weeks and weeks of bleeding, I'm ready for it to stop. I think I need a cork. 


     At the doctor, we found out our little man most likely has asthma. That, or allergies. Poor baby. What a morning! Now both kids are crashed and I'm thinking it's my cue to do the same. Although everyone knows that the second I shut my eyes, one of theirs will open. 


Sincerely, 


Me.

Urine For It.

Dear Diary, 


     Today it hit me. It was a funny thing, making this realization five months into my infant's life, but it was a realization nonetheless. 


     It has struck me that my daughter has peed on me more times since being born than my son has. The wild, miniature hose of an infant boy is indeed dangerous, especially when the private is standing at attention. That's always weird. And changing diapers is never a picnic, but getting urinated on makes the experience even more colorful. In a pale yellow sort of way. My daughter has relieved her bladder on me, but it never spews, thank heavens. It bubbles over the top like a garden fountain that's running low on power. And then there's a puddle. And it *always* seems to happen right between pulling the used diaper out from under her and slipping a new one under her bum. *SIGH*  


     Two years and 5 months of smelling urine-filled diapers has really done a number on my nasal region. I can almost just expect to gag a little when I go to change the bathroom trash cans. But poop is worse. Much, much worse. So I better stop complaining before Karma pays me a visit.


Sincerely, 


Me. 

Curse you, smelly diaper. I am giving you the "stink eye". (No pun intended.)

Something is a bit off...

Dear Diary, 

     
     Much to my *delight*, I have been getting "skinnier". The only odd thing about it is that I had recently subconsciously decided to give up. When did I think it would happen, you ask? Oh, sometime around the twelfth of never. At first, I would try to eat better portions and eat healthier foods. My body apparently liked that too much because it hung on to everything I ate and my weight went up, up, up (unlike my self esteem). But when I slumped down and frumped like a grump and decided to eat what I wanted, when I wanted and how I wanted it...my weight went down! And down some more! What the heck??? Hey, I'm not complaining. Cafe Rio, Papa Murphy's, home made cheeseburgers, french fries, quesadillas and chocolate milk (yes, I rebelled.) never tasted so good! Take that, Weight Watchers! I'm watching my weight. By watching tasty foods go into my mouth. Om, nom, nom. Let's hope this isn't a short-lived phase. (Thank you, breastfeeding!)And with as stubborn as this little child is, I'll be breastfeeding her until she's five. 


Sincerely, 


Me. 

Fun Times in the Shower.

Dear Diary, 

     I've spoken before about the unbearable amount of hair loss moms experience post-partum. But one thing I have never been able to get over is when, 2 minutes before you are about to hop out of the shower, you realize all of the hair has slid down to the only place on your body that will stop it like a dam. The bum crack. De-stringing your hiney has never been a very fun task, but it gets increasingly uncomfortable as the hair loss multiplies. Here's to hoping nobody has a terribly hairy-hiney Monday tomorrow. But if you do, just know that as always, you are not alone. And remember, you can always do like me and just not shower every day. Read this post and be on your merry way instead. 

Sincerely, 


Me. And all other moms who shed hair and it gets stuck in their cracks. 

Ketchup, Anyone?

Dear Diary, 


     The older my toddler gets, the stronger my realization becomes that he would eat anything and everything with ketchup. Eggs, bacon, quesadillas, french fries...those are all fairly reasonable foods to eat with ketchup. But once you start crossing over into the french toast/waffle/pancake section, you. are. doomed. I actually think that he *might* even try to eat a rock if you dipped it in ketchup. And I can't help but wonder...when will it end? My siblings each had an obsession with a certain type of food when we were younger. My older brother coated his foods with salt, my sister killed her meals with ranch dressing and my younger brother would slather an entire stick of softened butter on things if you let him. Fast forward twenty years and they are all the same with those foods as they were back then. It gives me no hope for my toddler with this newfound ketchup obsession when I think back to one of my friends (my age) who mentioned a while back that she still eats ketchup on her waffles. Thankfully, ketchup is cheap (although extremely messy). So my water bill might go skyrocketing with all the laundry that anxiously awaits me in the future, but at least my grocery bills won't be outrageous. 

Sincerely, 

Me