Just Call Me Mommy

Oh my digital friends, I know I've been  MIA for many a months. My life is fully consumed with Little Man and all the ripples his existence creates.
As I am allowed to pump at work, twice a day, I am losing basically 2 hours of work related productivity a day. I have managed to stay on top of things by working through my lunch, but then my Boss went and reduced my project completion time. Things have been a tad stressful on the work front to say the least because of this. I don't really have the "spare" time to be writing this, but I need to clear my head of a few things and I know putting them out to the digital world would help relieve some of the stress. And possibly garner some ideas and suggestions.
Little Man is causing me all kinds of stress. I love him so, but seriously kid, SLEEP THROUGH THE NIGHT ALREADY. When he first arrived on the scene he would start to doze off and I would put him to bed still awake. As time went on, he would have to be completely asleep or he would cry and scream. We were creating a monster. I think the trip Back East was the breaking point. His entire schedule was off by a mile. All the pointing and prodding and smile demands really got to him, and me. At one point, after I was allowed to nurse him instead of his "Nanna" feeding him a bottle, (um, yeah, that's a post in and of itself) he just laid across my lap and rested. I would pat his belly and when I stopped he would make his little "eeehhh" sound and I would do it again. This went on for a good 20 minutes before F looked in on us.  Anyway, this trip is where I feel it all fell to hell. Getting him to sleep that week was hell. Napping was just as bad. When we got back it got a tad better, but never back to where we were. All my mom friends keep  telling me he should be sleeping through the night and to just put him to bed and walk out. Let me tell you, it DID NOT WORK. I put him to bed, told him I loved him and walked out of the room, closing the door behind me. Little Man LOST HIS MIND. I went back in 2 minutes later, calmed him down, put him back in bed, and left. HE LOST HIS MIND. This went on for an HOUR AND A FORTY FIVE MINUTES. I increased the times between going back in, tried to stop picking him, but it didn't work. He SCREAMED at the top of his voice THE ENTIRE TIME, unless I was holding him, and even then he might let out a good scream just to let me know he was still pissed at me even though he was stroking my hair.  F? F was beside himself, almost in tears listening to it. He finally couldn't take it anymore, deciding I was forever damaging Little Man psychologically, he went in and held Little Man for half an hour until he feel asleep. I felt like such a bad mom. And I was pissed at myself for listening to the other moms. But I was SO TIRED. Little Man is still waking up at least twice a night. F rarely hears him, so I go in, comfort him, put him back to sleep and then get everyone up and out the door in the morning. I am beat.  But clearly, just up and leaving him isn't going to work, for any of us. So I've switched tactics to a more gradual, less crying sleep training version. And I'm sorry, but there is no such thing as the "No Crying/Tears" method. My kid cries, period. Anyway, we do our normal bedtime routine, lotion, pj's, nursing, prayers, a little song, now maybe a book, and then we sit for a little bit. When he is relaxed, I tell him it is "Night Night time" that I love him, and put in in his crib. He stiffens the second he feels me move to get up.  I lay him down, he is UP and screaming and crying. Yes. No cry method my foot.
The first night I sat on the floor next to the crib with my hand through the bars and if he was close enough to me, I would pat or rub his arm/leg, whatever. It took an hour of him crying and flopping dramatically on his mattress for him to fall asleep. He slept through the night.
The next night I sat in front of the crib with my hand through the bars, but didn't touch him. Well, too much. He would flop dramatically next to my hand and I would touch him with my finger. I mean, come on! The kid was crying and reaching his little chubby groping hand through the bars at me, I'm not made of stone people!
He slept through the night.
So basically, I am slowly moving away from him each night. How tired he is depends on how much dramatic flopping and crying goes on, but it is NO WHERE NEAR the over an hour of crying and screaming, mostly screaming. The most so far I think was 40 minutes. I haven't made it out the door just yet, and I'm not completely sure I will. If I step out to get something during this process the wailing kicks in. Can I spare 10 minutes to sit in my kid's room until he falls asleep? Yes, I can. Is this the wrong thing to do? Probably. My hope however is that I will be able to put him down and walk out of the room like I used to do in the beginning. I'm sure I'll get this put into place just in time for us to go Back East for Christmas. And have it forever FUBARed again.
So there is that. Sleep training is a bitch and I hate it.
Next? Again, Little Man. He has gone from being a Champion eater to a non-eater. He has dropped to the 3rd percentile. I can see his rib cage when I change him. Some nights he just refuses to eat. Even Cheerios!!
Other nights he stuffs whatever he can lay his hands on in his mouth to the point where I'm afraid he's going to choke. F and I are completely beside ourselves. We are worried, confused, at a loss. No one else seemed concerned though, even his Doctor thinks he is fine. And he is growing, reaching all the important "milestones." But we, as his parents still fret over every morsel. I am sure we are developing an eating disorder in him.
And lastly, the nursing. In the beginning F and my Mom; while she was staying with us, (another post unto itself) had me in tears with worry over not producing enough for Little Man. My mother kept telling me to just stop and switch to formula. Eventually though production went up and all was well, we were stockpiling like mad. Then I went to visit CBF for a week, got sick, passed out in her bathroom from dehydration and it has been a struggle ever since. I was able to stockpile some, but no where near what it was before. In fact, I don't think I've stockpiled anything in over a month. I am producing enough for him to have one bottle a day. The rest is formula. He is almost 10 months old. Most people tell me that it is GREAT to have gone so long. But I wanted him full breast milk for his first year. I'd like to know how in hell these people are doing it for six years! I will admit though, that the gradual decline is making it much easier to accept. I'm not tied to him, or the breast pump. I can go quite awhile without worrying about the need to pump. It is, freeing. I will miss it when it comes to an end though. Little Man and I have had some of our best times together, thus far, while he is nursing.  We've also had some of our worst. He continues to bruise my upper arm because he likes to pinch my bingo wings while nursing. F thought I was crazy until he saw the bruise. Despite that, I feel sad whenever I think about it. I remember how hurt I felt when he refused to nurse while he had a cold because he couldn't breath. F didn't get it, to him it was logical. And I knew that, the poor kid couldn't breath, but my feelings were hurt. It felt like rejection. Silly. I know.  I think it all stems from the guilt. My mom was a stay-at-home mom for the most part until I was 9. I spent all day with her. Not that I remember much of it, but I do remember some of it. I spend very little time with Little Man. F even less. So every moment I get is precious gold. I really wish I could switch to part time so I could spend more time with him. But unless F gets some kind of dream job or we win the lotto, that ain't happenin.

So tell me, my digital friends what are your tips on getting your kid to sleep? To eat?  How to deal with being a parent who maybe cares a little too much??

Seriously, how cute are they together? 

There Was No Snow for Christmas.....

And no Peace and certainly not Joy.

That's right my digital friends, F and I drugged and packed up Puppy and headed Back East to spend the Lord Jesus' Birthday with his family.
 I have to say that once again this year things were less drama filled than in the past. However, F and I found ourselves smack dab in the middle PLUMBING GATE: 2011. Please read here about the use of vinegar and baking soda. FIL attacked F about our use of T.P. as the cause of PLUMBING GATE: 2011. F HIT THE ROOF. He told FIL not to accuse him and his wife(that would be me) of causing a problem he (FIL) already knew he had and refused help in fixing. Apparently FIL's response was: "Oh, so you're going to be a MAN now are you?"
Oh, the love, it is overwhelming.
After this little male pissing contest we took MIL shopping. F turned on her in the car. She refused to talk about it which enraged F even more. He declared, once again, that we would NOT be staying at their house when next we visit. She declared that in THAT case we need not visit, AT ALL.

And here my digital friends is where FIVE YEARS ( i know, not all that long compared to some, but quite long for me) of keeping my peace came to a very dramatic end.
I LOST MY COOL.
I YELLED. YELLED. Not spoke sternly. Not through gritted teeth and pursed lips. FULL ON YELLED at MIL.
I don't remember verbatim what I said, but the gist was; Stop the drama! Do not Threaten us! Not visiting is VERY MUCH an option as far as I'm concerned, so DO NOT PUSH ME.
 F, was stunned. I was stunned. MIL was crying.
MIL's response was that she wasn't threatening us, that we just don't understand what it is like with HIM everyday since we are only there ONCE a YEAR and ONLY for a FEW Days. (ah, still able to get a dig in). It hurts her feelings that we don't want to stay in  her house; and how would we feel if she did that? I told her I wouldn't care. Whatever made her most comfortable was fine by me.

I apologized for yelling. And then I told her she could come visit us, that we want her to come visit us. She wailed that she can't go anywhere!
She was still crying, F was crying. I was shocked and horrified at myself. I was also waiting for F to lose his shit on me for losing mine on his mamma.
I did feel some sense of relief though, I have to say. My friend at work felt that it was unfair that MIL took the verbal beating for FIL, but as I told  her, she lets him get away with it and sits silently by as the victim. And who knows? A verbal beat down most likely is still in FIL's future.
Oddly enough, all was well after that. FIL even called a plumber. I wish I had been a fly on that wall for conversation with MIL and FIL about me losing my cool.  Why else would he suddenly decide to call a plumber? Maybe I am over crediting myself, but who knows. SOMETHING knocked some sense into him, if only temporally.
There were no ugly clothes received this year. W and T only fought once. The boys LOVED Puppy almost to death. No, really, they were very good with her. FIL groused that he had NO say in Puppy coming with us, to which F said we would happily have stayed at a hotel. Disbelief all around that a hotel would allow a pet. F and I both lost our cool with the boys once over a slapping incident. We both slept like shit despite the new mattress, see link above.
And, I did NOT get sick!! How amazing is that??

Hansel & Gretel Couldn’t Have Left a Better Trail

    I swear to all that is Holy there is a well-marked road map and several sign posts with possible runway lights that lead straight to our dishwasher and kitchen. It is miniature sized. Mouse sized. We have another one, or several, or however many.  F and I were away on vacation for a week. Puppy was at the Dog Sitter’s house.  When I entered the kitchen I noticed all the “spare” pieces of food Puppy had left on the floor surrounding her bowl were gone. Then within minutes of Puppy making it in the house she was tail deep in a corner of the kitchen where we keep a bag of bags.  I thought that was odd since she never goes in that corner.  I moved said bag aside and low, there were droppings. 

“Shit.”

Then as I grabbed the bread to make myself some toast, I noticed a hole in the bread bag.  “Is that melted? From being by the toaster oven?…. even though it was nowhere near the toaster oven?”  Then I noticed the chunk of bread missing.

“Fucking shit.”

Checking the counter top where said bread was kept I spied more dropping.

“Mother Fucking SHIT!!!!!!!!!”

I started opening all the drawers looking for more droppings because that is where they have been the last few times. I saw none. I also saw none in the dishwasher.  Another favorite spot.

“This could be not so bad.”

“F! the mice are back! Please call an exterminator ASAP. I am sick of dealing with this.”

F: “grumble, complain, makes excuses…..”

Next day

“Holy shit! The mice have made it into the half bathroom! Please call an exterminator!”

F: “grumble, complain, makes excuses…..”

Another Day Passes

Puppy and I are filling the dishwasher when I open the door and there is a small grayish thing sitting there.  I realize it is a mouse and slam the door shut hoping to knock it unconscious with the door.  Puppy is completely clueless even though half of her breed is “standard size dachshund was bred to scent, chase, and flush out badgers and other burrow-dwelling animals”.  Mice are burrow dwelling, aren’t they? Anyway, she did nothing.  The mouse was dazed, but not completely out of it. I stared at it for several moments trying to decide if I should just reach into the dishwasher and grab it. I was afraid it would bite me. During my indecision period the mouse had made it to its goal, the vents or something in the bottom of the dishwasher door.  It crawled right up in there. Where it went from inside the dishwasher door I have no idea.

“F! The mouse is in the dishwasher door!!!”

“I don’t know what to do about that, I have no idea how to get to it. Just run the dishwasher.”

So I did.  Then I washed all the knives and emptied the drawers. Everything is now on the dining room table and you have to walk there to get a knife, or spoon or fork. 

F is picking up mouse traps today.

I Hope I Didn't Just Jinx Myself With This Post

Remember when I told you our Tenant moved out and we decided to put the house up for sale?  Well, we did that.  I’m crossing my fingers right now and spitting as I turn three times in a circle because we are currently: “Sale Pending”. We listed the house at the beginning of June at $59,900.  We dropped it $10 grand each month-ish.  The offer came in when the price was listed at $39,900. The offer was $30,000.  I asked if the “buyer” was willing to go higher, and it came back at $32,500.  So there you have it people, I paid $130,000 five years ago (right before the market started to tumble) and I am selling for almost $100,000 less than what I paid for it. Thank you Mortgage companies who made hinky deals for years, thank you so much for crashing the housing market and screwing me twice.

Ahem. Now that the purchase agreement has been finalized it is up to our Lawyer to convince the Mortgage company to “forgive the debt” so I don’t have to pay taxes on the difference between what I owe, $108,000ish and what I am selling it for, see above, I can’t bring myself to type it again.  Thankfully the Buyer knows that the sale is dependent on the Mortgage Company agreeing to the sale price, so we shouldn’t lose the sale because of a long process with the Mortgage Company. To be honest with you, I would be willing pay the “income taxes” on the difference just as long as we get rid of the house.  We need to be done with my little house.  This needs to be completed by the end of 2012. I know that some Mortgage companies drag their feet for up to six months.  Please Lord no.   So please keep your digital fingers crossed for us that this is a quick and painless process.  Pray that the Mortgage Company has come to its senses and now understands that they don’t want to lose the sale. Foreclosure really isn’t an option for me because it kills my credit score for about 10years. So, yeah, come on Mortgage Company!!!!

On top of all this the Insurance Company has decided NOT to renew the policy on the house because it is no longer occupied as per the policy. So yeah, I need to get my ass in gear and find an insurance company that is willing to insure a vacant property for less than an arm and a leg by October 12.  This is very distressing for me in ways I cannot even explain because if the house burns down without insurance coverage we are completely screwed in so many ways.  But I fear that because there are so many vacant properties out there the Insurance companies have wised up and are no longer in the business of insuring them. Unless of course you are willing to become their slave. I am not willing to be a slave. However I do see that in the long run a short period as a slave may be well worth it in order to get the house sold.

Oh, did I mention that F’s vehicle is now leaking anti-freeze? Yep.  No A/C, a window that won’t go up, and leaking anti-freeze. I know, it could be worse, even though we did just shell out $1,700 bucks this spring to have the head gaskets replaced. We need to drive this car until it dies. But it seems to be dying much faster than we anticipated.

Also? We think Puppy is developing Separation Anxiety. Ever since the “Cone of Shame” she barks, whines, cries and BARKS every morning when I leave. I cannot tell you how much this breaks my heart.  She has eaten her crate beds, ($35 EACH) and a regular pillow that she was allowed to lay on.  She has bent the bars on her crate, and has managed moved the crate across the floor by several feet. She has chewed on her little water dish that is attached to the side of her crate. She has peed on her crate bed.

F and I are beside ourselves with worry. We are hoping that once she realizes that the cone of shame is gone she will revert back to normal.  I of course fear the worst. That we have mentally messed up our little Puppy and we will have to medicate her each day so she doesn’t end up hurting herself. Again, please Lord; No.

It is times like these when the title of this entire blog is in full force, garish neon lighting truth.

She Survived, But the House Did Not

Remember how upset I was about leaving Puppy alone in her with the "Cone of Shame"? So we left her "blocked" in the dining room? Um, yeah. We are considering renaming her Houdini because she escaped, TWICE. 

Before you lays the evidence of her destruction.

The cell phone charger

Those are her teeth marks, it chargers no more

The weather panel on our tab top curtains, torn down all but 3 inches

One of those "cloth" shopping bags torn in HALF

The strap to my purse

The paper shredder

All of the above was done the SECOND time she escaped. When she managed to remove her cone as well. A few days later I discovered that she had eaten the strap to my very expensive sandals, a shoe box, and the heel strap on F's new sandals.

The first time she got out she ripped through the plastic weather seal on the front window and torn down the sheers I had hanging there. Luckily they were hung on tension rods so all I had to do was wash and rehang.

We decided we couldn't afford her getting out again, so we put her back in her cage. Where she whined, cried, BARKED, yelped and went all out doggie guilt warfare. Our neighbor said she kept it up all day. Complete and total heartbreak. She has managed to body slam, I assume, her cage at least 3 feet across the floor, tip over and knock off the water cup that screws onto the side of her cage, remove the tray that goes into the bottom of the cage, gack on the wall, and sadly, peed her bed, twice now. Clearly Puppy is not happy being locked up with the Cone of Shame on. We are becoming quite concerned that she is developing and adverse to the cage. In the next few days she will have her staples removed and hopefully all will go back to normal.
I can't afford to lose any more shoes to the Teeth of Fury.

Don't be fooled, she's more dangerous than she looks.

She Survived

Puppy survived her overnight stay at the Vet. She was such a huge hit that when we turned to leave with her all the vet techs came out to say goodbye. "OH!  Is Puppy leaving?!?!?!" "Oh Puppy is soooo cute!!"  "Puppy is so PRECIOUS!!"  When we inquired as to their boarding policy one tech begged us to let her take Puppy home with her to watch!! "Here's my number. I'd LOVE to take Puppy home with me!!! She's so cute!!"

However, Puppy was outfitted with "The Cone of Shame" because she can not leave her incision alone. She shook and quaked this morning as we were getting ready to leave. She looked so sad and forlorn in her cage with The Cone of Shame on. It ended up with us blocking off the entire dining room because she was unable to enter her cage or get to her water with "The Cone of Shame" on.

I'm Such A Wuss

At the end of July F and I "rescued" Puppy. She and her siblings were left at a Kennel and when no one was available over the "long fourth weekend" they were scheduled to be put down.

How could you look into that little face and kill it?

One of the local shelters was alerted to this and swooped in and saved them! YAY!!!!!  When I put into this shelter to adopt it was to adopt one of Puppy's brothers. I was informed that Puppy's brother had just been adopted but the Other Brother was still available. I wasn't really interested in Other Brother, but felt obligated to meet him. When their Foster Mom got out of her van, she had 2 puppies with her. Puppy's first adoption had fallen through.  F and I immediately fell in love with her and cast her brother back out into the adoption pool.  Don't think me heartless, Foster Mom told me on the phone before the meeting that there was EXTREMELY HIGH interest in all the siblings and that I needed to jump on this ASAP. Anyway, $400 bucks later, Puppy was ours! We took her with us to buy another $200 worth of pet supplies, (holy crap) and she has been an extremely bright light in our lives ever since. We adopted her on a Saturday. When Monday rolled around and I was tasked with putting her in her cage and leaving for work, I almost didn't make it. She started to cry. Oh how she CRIED. I started to cry. I felt like such a horrible person, leaving her all alone for EIGHT WHOLE HOURS locked in a cage! I walked out the door and could hear the heartbreaking howl as I turned to lock it. I could hear the crying fear of loneliness as I staggered to the car. My eye liner began to run. I begged her to stop crying. She did not heed my plea. I made the mistake of rolling down my window as I pulled out of the driveway. I could still hear her. My heart broke. I called F and cried to him over the phone. She will die of loneliness! She will hate me when I return! I am heartless! I cannot do this everyday, I will not survive! I whimpered throughout the day to anyone who would listen. How do you did it? I questioned of those with children. How do you leave them when they cry? I am so weak!  

F called me when he arrived home. She was ALIVE! And better yet, she  had eaten some food! (she hadn't eaten in 2.5 days and we were beyond worried.)  When I arrived home a few hours later, she greeted me with joy! My heart healed in an instant. As the days progressed it became less heart wrenching to leave her.

She started to relax and become part of the family.

She loves her "bed"

This past morning I dropped her off for an overnight stay with the Vet. She is getting "fixed". I am yet again worried that she will hate me when we get her back. I am worried that we may not get her back. I am worried about her being in a strange place overnight with no one to hear her when she cries at 3 AM to be let out and then escape, to bolt into our room to sleep the rest of the morning on her pillow by the bed.

 I can't say I'll miss the 3 am potty break, but I will miss her.

Yes, I know it is only overnight. This is why I'm a wuss.