Thank you sweet baby Jesus, Christmas is finally over.

My job makes us work the seven days leading up until Christmas. The way my days off played out, I worked 10 days in a row. The ten days before Christmas. Which for those of you who work in the retail slash service industry, you know that those are the ten worst goddamned days of the year. IN A ROW.

That does something to a person. Somethin uuugly.

It also seriously must compromise a person’s immune system, because guess what? I’m sick again. And not just a little cold, no no. That’s not how I roll.  Friday morning, Christmas Eve Eve, I woke up with some ear pain. As the day progressed, it got worse and worse. By Saturday morning, Christmas Eve, I was in quite a bit of pain. Even with enough ibuprofen in me to stun a yak, I was struggling. I got lucky and got out of work early, and raced straight to an UrgentCare. But they were already closed. So..I sat there, thinking well, first thing Monday morning, I’ll go in.

But it just kept getting worse and worse. It woke me up a bunch of times that night. I was really in a lot of pain. 3:30 in the morning, I woke up John. “I’m going to the ER. I can’t take this shit another day. Might as well go now. I’ll be home by the time X wakes up.”

Well..I wasn’t. Apparently, earaches fall pretty low on the emergency scale.  Eventually, the doctor made his way over. Said “Yea..that’s doubly infected, inside and out. Here’s a stack of prescriptions. CVS is open, head on over.”

So, I did. Eardrops, antibiotics, and two kinds of pain meds. Oh yes. I made it home about 9:30. Xavier had pooped on his Christmas pajamas. Mom and John were waiting, Xavier’s excitement was palpable:

And Squirt could barely contain his overwhelming joy:

 But John was ready: (to start drinking. Ha!)

So, let’s start the show. We start with stockings. First, my mom looks through hers. Finds a chocolate orange. She’s pumped about it.

John tricked her into wearing that hat. I love this man.

Then we opened Xavier’s stocking. I handed him his first gift, expecting him drool as he dropped it on the floor. But instead, this happened.


How cute is that? He’s all “Oh yes, this is relevant to mah interests!”

Stupid little set of teething keys dazzled his world. Babies are so funny.

I’d like to post more pictures, but stupid WordPress is being slow and if I keep waiting around to do that, I’ll never get this finished before Xavier wakes up.

So..the day after Christmas, John, Xavier and I made our yearly trip out to the stores to get the goods on next year’s Christmas decorations. My theme for next year is certainly more challenging than red & white was, but I think I did okay and I am pretty damned excited about it. year, my mother has decided she wants a tree for her area also. So that’s TWO trees to decorate. I don’t think she’ll let me get all OCD on her tree. But I really wish she would. She’s probably going to get all obnoxious drunken fruity pebbles vomit on the damned thing just to drive me batty. *sigh*. I suspect she just doesn’t like next year’s colors. I’d tell you what they are, but then you’d try to copy me. So you have to wait, suckas.

Anyway. When I went to the ER Saturday morning, they told me if I’m not much better by Tuesday morning, I needed to go see my For Real Doctor. So..Tuesday morning I was still really struggling. I tried to go to work..and it was a fail. I couldn’t take the serious pain meds they gave me and drive or groom dogs, and trying to groom dogs in that much pain…well. It didn’t work out. So I left work and went to the doctor.  It was worse, my face was swollen, and now my left ear was aching and crackling.

And this is where we discuss bedside manner and it’s importance. A doctor should not take one look at a person’s ear and say “Oh no! It’s really bad. Like..REALLY bad. You need to go see a specialist. NOW. Right NOW. It’s reaaaally bad. I’m going to find you a specialist to go to, right now. This is serious, I’ve seen people go on IV antibiotics for less. YOUR BRAIN IS IN DANGER!”

And then disappear for 10 minutes.

Leaving me just…sitting there. Apparently, in grave brain danger.

So she comes back, gives me an address and a number and tells me to “Go right now. Just go NOW okay?”


In a rare exception from my usual stubborn to the core independence, I had had John accompany me to this appointment, in case they wanted to dope me up or something.  So he was with me, thank God, because I was actually sort of scared. MY BRAIN WAS IN DANGER, for fuck’s sake.

So I went to the specialist. And waited for over an hour and a half before he wandered into the exam room. Which had a big scary dentist like horror movie chair in it with lights and pokey things. And there were all these instruments that looked like something out of the SAW movies. GAH.

I might have peed in the chair.

So he takes a look in my left ear, the newest arrival to the party in my head. He’s like “Yup, infected. We’ll flush that sucker out and give you some drops. NBD.” Then he looks in my right ear, and says “This is really bad.” He says my ear is completely clogged up, and the antibiotics they had given me in the ER were not strong enough. Since my ear was closed up, there was no way for the drops to get down in there, so they just kinda built up and gummed up the works even more. So..we’ll have to suction that out. Then flush. Then we’ll have to insert a wick so it can drain.

Oh..that sounds magical.

He says “It’s going to hurt. If it doesn’t hurt I’m not doing it right. Sorry.”

So he pulls out this thingy. It has a four inch or so metal tube that’s very narrow, like the inside of a ballpoint pen. He STICKS THAT IN MY FUCKING EAR. And then he turns it on. And it’s like the suction thingy at the dentist, only it’s metal and it’s in my ear. And it’s sucking the danger out of my brain.

It was unpleasant. But I have to almost felt better. There was a lot of pressure in that sumbitch, and that relieved a good chunk of it. Then he goes around to my left side. Takes this giant metal syringe thing..and a metal vomit catcher pan, you know, the kidney bean shaped guy. And he comes straight for me. This ain’t gonna be nice.

But again, not that bad. He sticks the giant metal thing in my ear and it’s like a firehose jammed into my brain. The kidney bean was to catch the excess.

(Are you grossed out yet?)

SO THEN. He comes back to my right side. And he’s being very descriptive about what he’s going to do my ear. Which I appreciated, I don’t think I would’ve taken too kindly to someone just cramming stuff and shooting and suctioning on my orifices without an explanation. (That’s what she said.)

He shows me the wick he’s going to put in my ear. He shows me what he’s going to use to put it in with. Explains it’s purpose and when it needs to come out. I really liked this doctor.

(Dr Tarro at RI Ear Nose & Throat in Cumberland RI)

So then he tells me it’s gonna hurt again. And I brace myself. But it wasn’t that bad. Certainly no walk in the park. He says “Wow. You must have a really high threshold for pain.”  If you’ve read my birth story, you know why that is.

So..I did take the day off work today. I’m in quite a bit of pain,  and I can’t hear very well, and I’m still quite loopy from the Vicodin regimen. But I’m getting better, I can tell.

And one last thing before I end this, speaking of getting better. The Reglan is working like gangbusters for my milk supply, it has totally pulled me off the ropes in that battle and I’m in the fight again and swinging. When I first started breastfeeding,  I honestly wasn’t sure I’d last the week. But when I did, I said “Six weeks. I probably won’t be able to do it after I go back to work.” But I was. so I said “I’d like to make it til Christmas, that’s just about six months.” I wasn’t even sure I’d be able to make time to pump because it gets so insanely busy. But I did. I made it. So. I’m not going to set another goal. I’m going to keep going until I stop. So far, I have had zero side effects that I can’t handle. Hopefully that continues. HOORAY FOR BOOBIES!


Everything & Nothing.

I don’t really have anything specific I’d like to talk about this week, so I’m just going to do a general update. I just realized, just this second, that today is my last day off until Christmas. That’s a big ol’ FML for you. Had I realized that…oh well.

We have to talk about my hair, as it is the most important thing ever. (Sarcasm.) It has been falling out in clumps. Xavier has been ripping out what’s left. Birthing a behbeh does weird shit to your body. MY baby sucked the goddamned life out of me. He was like “Bitch I don’t have any hair, you don’t need any either.”

My hair has been a point of pride with me for a long time. I don’t have big boobs or a tiny waist or big velvety lips or long legs. I had pretty hair though.  But about six months into my got duller. I changed shampoos roughly 120 times. Finally, towards the end of my pregnancy, I gave up, and into a ponytail/bun it went.

And there it stayed..pretty much until yesterday. It also refused to take color I couldn’t get it all one color to save my life. Finally..I decided it was time. Fuck it, cut it off.

Now..I’ve had my hair short before so it wasn’t total terror, I know it looks okay short. But last time, I had sideswept bangs, and I feel like it made me sorta look like a little kid. My six year old niece has the same haircut.

So this time I wanted something kinda grown up. Maybe even a little sassy and sexy? I don’t know.

I scoured pictures, got a few ideas..but really, you just have to have a good stylist that you trust. I was lucky enough to find one pretty quickly after I arrived here in Rhode Island. She’s the only one in the 401 who I’ll go to, and she has never done me wrong.

Sue, at Allure Salon in Warwick. GO.

Now that I did that little shout out, I will show you my before, during and after shots. My before picture is pretty embarassing. But it’s the most recent that shows my hair. I want to clarify and really, really, stress the fact that I was attending an UGLY SWEATER PARTY and I DO NOT WEAR SHIT LIKE THIS NORMALLY.  And neither does my friend Cara. Swear to God.

Ready? Okay!

So…yea, we’re idiots.  But don’t let it distract you. Notice the hair. THE HAIR.

That was Friday. So on Tuesday, I donated this to Locks of Love:

Sue participates in the program and donates hair for you, free of charge. Which I think is pretty dope.  This is the second time she’s lopped off and mailed in a metric fuckton of my hair.

I was very scared. And she just kept. fucking. cutting. I reminded myself that she’s never done me wrong. I reminded myself I look okay with short hair. I reminded myself that it grows back.

And when she took clippers to the back of my neck, my bladder released a little. is the final product:

 And I must say, I really, really dig it. Thanks again, Sue!

Now, moving on to other business. Xavier is AMAZING the shit out of me lately. Like..a week ago maybe? He rolled over, belly to back. He was a little behind on this, but his Dr insisted not to worry, that everyone is on their own timeline and he’ll get there. I was so proud. But then..a few nights ago, he started doing this:

Sitting up, all by his damned self. How bout that!

He’s doing okay with solids. Still struggling a lot with constipation, even after we’ve integrated fruits like prunes, pears and peaches..he gets bound up pretty badly, pretty often. Not sure what to do about that. I guess it’s normal to have an adjustment period, but man oh man, I feel so damned bad for the poor kid.

And..speaking of foods.  I went to my doctor today, and we talked about my breastfeeding & supply issues. I told her about my hair falling out, my milk supply going to hell, my body hoarding calories like I’m a starving Ethiopian..and she thinks I may have a thyroid issue. So she tested me for that, and I’ll know the results soon. But she also prescribed a drug called Reglan to help with my supply. One last ditch effort, and if it doesn’t help I can say with certainty that I absolutely tried everything. Even a drug that has been known to cause hallucinations and a disease called Tardive Dyskensia, and “rapid stomach emptying”. But if it’s the thing that works and buys me six more months of nursing, then bring on the hallucinations. Okay..maybe not. But formula IS freaking expensive. Just saying…maybe a few hallucinations aren’t so bad.

(That my friends, is desperation talking. And I’m kidding.)

One more thing I want to discuss before I wrap this shit up. In late October, I wrote a post titled “Six Months.” It was a two parter, about my feelings surrounding the death of my best friend Jimi. It was insanely hard for me to wrap words around the things I was feeling, and even harder for me to put them out into the world. I have recieved a LOT of feedback about these posts, from his friends and family, my friends and family, and our friends that are like family. And overwhelmingly, what people are saying to me is “Ditto. I feel the same freaking way.”

Now, here’s the thing..ever since I wrote Even as I was writing it, I could feel the healing starting. Believe you me, I am never, ever going to be the same again. But talking about it plainly and honestly was evidently precisely what I needed to do. I really haven’t talked much about my feelings since he died, and my reasons for that are kinda stupid. 1. I felt like I was being sort of whiny, and I didn’t want to make anyone uncomfortable. I do want to be pleasant company and pleasant company doesn’t spread melancholy around. No one wants to be Debbie Downer. 2. I don’t want to use the word arrogant..but it almost was. I didn’t feel like anyone could possibly understand the pain I felt. People would say “Oh I know how you feel..” and I would think “NO YOU DON’T! YOU DON”T KNOW! IF YOU KNEW I COULD SEE YOU’RE BROKEN INSIDE LIKE ME AND YOU’RE NOT!”

Finally, the few people I felt were close enough to me to actually speak frankly to about my feelings, were the same people I worried about hurting if I were to say “No one’s ever understood me like he did.” or “He was my most loyal friend.” By saying things like that, while true..I worried that I would be saying “YOU don’t understand me. YOU are not loyal.” But that’s not how it was, of course. I don’t hang out with people who don’t get me, or disloyal sonsobitches. It’s just that those were HIS strengths….and other friends have other strengths that are equally valuable to me and I would certainly mourn the loss of those just as much. But that’s a lot to try to explain, and rather than do that, I would simply clam up.

My point, and I do have one is this: Ever since I put those words out into cyberspace, I feel better.

I didn’t realize how damaging it was to my soul to be repressing it. That’s why it was leaking out at random times, and I was bursting into tears over music, any music, all music. I would be standing there washing a dog at work and start to cry and try to hide it before anyone caught me. I was bursting at the goddamned seams with grief. So when I opened the valve I released a lot of pressure, and the healing is beginning.

I can listen to music now. New music only. Music that has nothing to do with anything, is totally shallow and topical and light. But no more talk radio. No more random bursts of tears. I still think about him every day, and I always will, I know. But it’s not so bitter and dangerous anymore.

So if you are one of those people that called me, emailed me, texted me, saying “Me too” advice to you is to find that damned valve and GET IT OUT. Go see a counselor, start a private blog that no one can read. Or be an attention whore like me and let everyone read it. I’ll read it. Figure it out, scream it out, swear it out, sing it out. Do what you gotta do, but letting that repression fester in your soul is going to spoil you, like a bad apple in the barrel.

That’s all for today.



An Xavier Update.

I don’t have a ton to write about this week. It’s been kinda rough around here, lots of stress going on. This week hit a whole new level of shittiness, John got laid off from his job, and someone stole $200 out of my purse. Lovely huh? But to ice that shit cake a little more, Xavier got a few trips to the pediatrician.  About two weeks ago, I went to change his diaper and found a tiny pink spot, about the size of his dime in his diaper.

Here’s what the inside of my head sounded like :

Omg something is totally wrong with him he’s peeing blood wtf could that even mean call 911 no don’t call 911 call the dr wait what if it’s totally normal, didn’t I read somewhere that it’s totally normal? How can peeing blood be normal, I never do it, do boys do it? Has he been injured and no one told me? Did I see this on SVU as a sign of sexual abuse? How the hell does this even happen? Is it because I didn’t circumcise him? What about that damned hydroceles when he was born, could that be it? GOOGLE IT!! Ah man that’s not good, he’s either dying or it’s totally normal, well that’s nothing I didn’t know before. Guess I’m calling the pediatrician.

So I call. And they don’t say anything but “Can you make it here by 1:30?” And my head explodes. They want to see him right away it must be serious holy crap.

(I am SO cool.)

So, I get us down there, take the diaper. The Dr looks over his beans and franks, and doesn’t see anything. He tells me that it’s probably urate crystals, and sometimes it just happens for no reason at all, and sometimes it’s because he’s dehydrated, and sometimes it actually is blood, and the only way to know is to test it. So they send me home with instructions to collect a urine sample. does one collect a urine sample from an infant? I’ll tell you. They gave me this plastic bag with a hole in it with sticky tabs around the hole. I affix the stickies around his little business, put his diaper back on over the baggie. Then I realize..I have to remove the stickies from his business.

So for an hour or so I walk around, dreading taking this stupid thing off. Surely it’ll hurt, I wouldn’t want a bandaid ripped off my genitals. I try to figure out a way to remove it gently, perhaps if I use nail polish remover, or lighter fluid, that’s good for stickiness? can’t put that crap on a baby! Okay scratch that. Maybe if I just soak it in water? But what if it messes with the sample?

So..I just ended up going reaaaaaaallly slow. And he stared at me the whole time, like “I just don’t know about this Mom”

But I got it. And got it down to the lab. Phew. Oh we wait for results.

The next morning, another spot. A bigger spot. I call the Dr’s office. They say they didn’t find any blood, so it’s just urate crystals. Normal. Yay!  They tell me it’s possible that he’s a little dehydrated, and that I should drink more water. Eesh…fair enough, I definitely do not drink enough water. If it keeps happening, call back and they’ll test the diaper itself to see if it’s blood, further investigate this.  

So, a week or so goes by and it’s all good, I’m chugging water and gatorade regularly, but man I’m still definitely struggling with my milk supply. I’m still taking supplements, pumping and eating oatmeal all the damned time. I’m really trying. But I am still struggling.

So when I see another spot after I’m doing all that, I realize maybe despite my best efforts, he’s not getting enough. I call the Dr again, they tell me to come down. I call the Warmline and tell them all I’ve been doing and that it’s possible he’s not getting enough from me, and we stayed on the phone for awhile..and basically she gave me the “You had a good run, but maybe it’s just not working out for you.” speech.

So we head to the doctor. At Xavier’s appointment at 2 1/2 months, he weighed 13.5 lbs. He’s now 4 months old, and he weighs 14 lbs. That’s not enough weight gain to make the doctor happy. So..he recommended supplementing with formula. confession. When I was pregnant and immediately after giving birth..I really didn’t care about breastfeeding. I had seen a lot of my friends who were all “I’m going to breastfeed, formula is poison!!” and then for one reason or another, breastfeeding didn’t work out and they were devastated, harboring all kinds of guilt and self loathing about it. So I took this “Eh, if it works it works” attitude about it. And if I’m being totally honest, I kinda sorta didn’t want it to work. I saw formula as more convenient, and in my head, breastfeeding kind of grossed me out. (Hippies everywhere just gasped in horror.) I know, logically, that it’s the most natural thing in the world. But in my head it felt dirty.

Until I did it. And THEN it felt like the most natural thing in the world. And it was gratifying and I felt like this amazing earthmomma, nourishing my child with my own body and breastfeeding is awesome, I never have to wash bottles and my baby is thriving and lemme do my hippie dance and be all “It’s natural and beautiful, this is what boobs are for!”

So..when he told me that Xavier is not gaining enough weight, that he’s NOT thriving, I was devastated, harboring all kinds of guilt and self loathing. I still am. Let it be known that I have the happiest baby on the planet, ask anyone who’s met him. He’s super chill, and never acted as if he was still hungry. So I guess he was just doing what they tell us fatties to do and just eating til you’re satisfied, but not full. (I still haven’t mastered that.)  But I gotta shelve my stupid feelings and do what’s best for the kiddo. In the meantime, I’m still pumping around the clock, taking supplements and eating oatmeal. I’m not giving up just yet.

Non-Bathtime Photos Courtesy of Tana Murphy of The Murphys Photography. Her photos actually do my baby’s cuteness justice.:) Link:

Capone Update!

As you can see, he’s pretty much back to his old self again. And yea, I totally just posted a video of my dog beginning to urinate. Aaaand you watched it.
It took a few days for him to pink back up entirely. I guess we’ll never know what the hell happened to him. I know it sucked. And I know that I’m fighting some kind of bug myself. Friday morning I woke up with a sore throat, and I thought I was getting my usual cold. I get the same cold, over and over again, every spring and every fall. Allergies maybe? But it only lasts like 5 days and I don’t think that’s how allergies work.
Doesn’t matter anyway because this is different. Nothing else ever developed, I’m fine except for the sore throat. It’s REALLY sore though, swallowing and talking hurt like hell..and I like to do both of those things quite often. I’m trying reallllly hard to fight it because since I’m still nursing, I can’t take any kind of good medicine, and I found out this sad fact the hard way.
Whenever I fly, I take a Claritin D because it toootally helps with the ear popping. Yes, really. A pharmacist recc’d that shit a few years back and it works like gangbusters. So..I did a quick google to make sure it was safe with breastfeeding and it said (I’m paraphrasing) “Sure, but it could possibly affect milk supply, so if you have trouble or whatever, don’t take that crap.”
But I’ve been super lucky when it comes to breastfeeding. After I saw the lactation consultants, it was a breeze. Healthy supply, Xavier’s a rockin’ latcher, everything is just aces. And ear pain sucks. So I popped that claritin without even thinking twice.
The entire trip, I exclusively nursed, no pumping. Xavier didn’t seem hungry (and believe it, this is the only thing he is NOT cool with. He lets you know when he’s hungry.). I DID notice that he wasn’t feeding for as long as usual, but I thought maybe he was just getting more efficient, or perhaps he wasn’t lingering as long because we weren’t always in optimal situations. (Airports, hotels, country club locker rooms, the car..) So I didn’t think much of it. I took another one on the way home on Tuesday, and didn’t notice anything at all until I went back to work on Thursday.
Thursday I went to pump..and nothing came out. NOTHING?! Yah, NOTHING. I tried and tried, thought maybe the pump was broken. Figured out it wasn’t. Called the WarmLine at Women & Infants Hospital. (Read: EXCELLENT RESOURCE) She asked me if I’d taken any medicines recently and I told her about the Claritin and how it was safe, right?
“Well yes, it’s safe in terms of it won’t hurt you baby. But we strongly advise against taking it because it has been known to do serious damage to your supply. It’s been known to end breastfeeding for some women”
END?!! Yah, END.
My heart sank. I’m not one of those people who is all “Breastfeeding is the only way!!”. It’s not. Formula is fine, and I can tell you it saved my ass this week. However, I do want to continue nursing as long as I can. It’s good for him, it’s good for me, it’s free (hello!) and I don’t makes me feel all earth momma hippie cool, and lowers his risks of obesity and diabetes and stuff like that that runs rampant in my family.
So I’m not ready to stop, and I had a surprisingly emotional reaction to the idea. Through the last week, I’ve been pumping like crazy, drinking ass flavored teas, popping Fenugreek and chasing it with Gatorade and eating oatmeal like it’s my job. I am NOT. Fucking. Quitting. He was able to nurse directly without issue. But the pump is not as skilled at removal. So I would have to leave him with at least SOME formula while I went to work. I am not generally an overly emotional person, and logically, I know that formula won’t hurt him. So when I started to CRY while prepping formula bottles, it surprised the hell out of me. Every day I had to crack open that damned can, I got madder and madder. All because I didn’t want my ears to hurt.
But, yesterday for the first time in 12 days, I was able to pump enough at work that he will NOT be having formula today.
So listen up mommas, if you’re breastfeeding, don’t take Claritin. I know it can be a sensitive topic, and breastfeeding vs formula has been known to start wars on the interwebz, and I’m definitely not interested in that, so don’t get crazy. I’m just talkin about my shitty mistake and how I felt shitty about it.
Now, I gotta prep some bottles and get to work.

Work + Baby + Dogs + Mom =

Holy shit. That’s the answer to the equation, in case you were stumped. Holy shit I’m a busy bitch!!!

Now..I’m going to complain here, but I want it made crystal clear that I am VERY grateful for everything that I have. Srsly. And I know I have it very easy, and people do this all the time.

Having said that, HOLY SHIT.

Okay so here is what’s been happening. Monday, John leaves for work at the asscrack of dawn. Xavier wakes me up at the asscrack of dawn, or shortly thereafter. Feed him, get him dressed and play for a bit. He’s always super happy in the mornings so I’m glad I get to hang with him. He goes to sleep after about an hour, for about an hour. During that hour, I get his things ready for his day at Grandma’s.

My mom has somewhat limited dexterity in her hands. Snaps give her trouble. Little buttons? Forget it. So..I make sure she has the velcro cloth diapers, not the snaps. Xavier has a few pairs of feetie pajamas that zip up, and that’s what he wears all day when he’s with her. I disapprove of all day pajama wearing as a general rule, but they don’t go anywhere, and I try to make things as easy as possible for her.

I have to also prepare his bottles. Remember the dexterity problems? Yeah..putting together a Dr Brown with all those pieces? Come on! (Although we switched to Tommee Tippee last week anyway.) She kinda seems to struggle remembering if he last ate at 2:30 or 3:20..or is it he needs to eat at 2:30? Which, hell, that crap even trips me up sometimes. So, I label the bottles with the times on them for her. I use these removable labels:

 And they work pretty damned well.  By 9, Xavier is back up and ready to eat, be changed and play some more. 10:30 he’s back asleep. Now I can shower, get ready for work and make sure I have all of MY crap. I have to take my purse,  my lunch, my beast of a breast pump, AND bottles to store breast milk in. This is me, leaving for work.  

So..John comes home from work around 6ish, feeds the dogs, takes a shower, and then he takes over for a little while. I get home at 8, take a shower, eat whatever he puts in front of me, wash some bottles, freeze breastmilk I pumped, put Xavier’s PJ’s & bedtime diaper on, brush my teeth and go to bed.

That’s just Monday! I have Tuesdays and Wednesdays off. John works looooong days, so I have Xavier all to myself on these days. These are the days I run errands for my mom, do the shopping, catch up on stuff, and put together Xavier’s bags for Thursday, Friday and Saturday, and it seems like every week SOMEONE is going to the doctor. This week, it was Squirt. He’s been scratching his head and face a LOT since the power outage. I tried treating him with Benadryl, figuring maybe it was an allergic reaction to the bread we gave him his Prozac with when I ruined the cheese. (Cheese must be sealed before being placed in a cooler of ice. Sorry.)  But it just wasn’t getting any better so yesterday, he went to the vet. After a skin scrape, infection and mites were ruled out. Best she can figure, he either got into something that irritated him, OR it was the stress of the power being out. He’s such a sensitive bitch.

Soooo he’s on Xanax too now. Yes, really. My dog is medicated up like a soccer mom.


Thursday looks a lot like Monday, except I get home at 10 instead of 8. Friday, I go in earlier and have to leave the house by 11:45. John gets home by 6pm and takes over, I get home at 10.

Now..I get HOME at I’m probably not in bed until midnight or one.

Saturdays are the shitshow coup de grace. John and I decided a few things about Saturdays. 1. He rides to work with me. This saves gas money, and gives us a little time to talk to each other. His job is about 20 minutes past my job. 2. Since Saturdays are such long days and we don’t want my mom to get overwhelmed, Xavier goes to a babysitter that day.

Saturdays, I have to be at work by 8 am.

Saturdays suck.

We get up at 5. I feed the baby, he feeds the dogs. Shower, get shit together. I prepped as much as I could on Wednesday, but just getting everything and everyone out the door..holy shit. The babysitter doesn’t have baby shit, because she doesn’t have a baby so that would be weird. So I have to take EVERYTHING Xavier owns because he will surely need it. You can’t have a baby without an epic fuckton of baby shit. Everyone knows that. Pssh.

Drop John off at work. Circle back, babysitter lives close to my job. Unload his crap, feed him one more time. GO TO WORK FOR TEN HOURS. I have to pay for the short shifts I have on Monday & Thursday by working longer hours on Saturday and Sunday. This makes good financial sense, it’s all great on paper, and for paper. So..ten hours later, I pick up my baby. Then I go pick up John. An hour later, we’re home. Feed the dogs, ourselves. Shower. Wash bottles, diapers, clothes, baby.

Sunday is mercifully easy by comparison. John stays home with Xavier, so all I have to prep is bottles. And, 45 minutes each way to work a 10 hour shift. NBD.

So, if you’re wondering why I haven’t called, or returned your’s because I hate you. Just kidding.  It’s because of all this.

One fun highlight of my week, then I gotta feed the kid and get this show on the road.

Something you should know about my husband: He hates pants. When most people come in the door after work, they remove their shoes. Or, if you’re me, your bra. But he drops trou. He’ll do housework, in his underwear. With slippers, of course, because he’s convinced you die when you don’t have slippers.

Since my mom moved in in April, I’ve been trying to discourage this behavior. I’ve said probably one thousand times “One of these days, you’re not going to hear her coming and she’s going to see you in your undies. And I will laugh and do the I told you so dance when it happens.” And he’s all “Nah I can always hear her coming, she’s not exactly a ninja!” To which I reply “One of these days! I will laugh, and dance!”

Well, that day, my friends was Saturday. And I witnessed it. And I laughed, and danced. EPIC.