Past Due

We got a bill yesterday from the hospital where LadyBug was born. Eight months ago. The bill was for Kate and for her ROOM CHARGES. Yes...they charged her a cool grand for her room and board.

OK. Let's think about this. They already charged me a kajillion dollars for my room. LadyBug didn't have her own room. She shared mine. In fact, they wouldn't let her leave my room. I asked. During one of those four-hour screaming fits I begged the nurse to take her, "just for a moment" before my head spun off and twirled down the hall. Ah...no. She smiled and told me no.

So, why the bill for LadyBug's room? I'm pretty sure you can't classify that plastic thingy that sort of looks like a bassinet as a hospital room.

And board? Scuze me? How many frozen popsicles and yogurts did they give my newborn? I PROVIDED BOARD. The closest thing o food they gave LadyBug was a free sample of Sim.ilac.

I'm a little confused, dear hospital guys. What am I paying for, and why are you billing me eight months after the fact? I'd really like to contest it. I'd really like them to try to explain the charges and prove that they indeed can bill for them.

Pearly Whites at Last

We "fired" NannyMann and BigB decided to take a month of Wednesdays off to cover. He texted me last Wednesday and said, "Guess what I found in Kate's mouth today?"

Freaked me out.

She's been totally shoving everything in her mouth. I was scared what she might have found on our floor that hasn't been vacuumed in, I don't know, months?? "Dog Poop?" "A quarter?" "Shards of glass?" I replied.

"Teeth!" He said.

Teeth! LadyBug has teeth. Plural! No warning whatsoever. No drooling. No fever. No whining. No tugging of ears. She's a little behind the eight ball...seeing as she's eight months, so we were looking for them. But they came on their own accord. She had grabbed BigB's hand and shoved it in her mouth and he felt the little buggers. It's now official. She's not a baby anymore. Tears in five-four-three-two-one.

Sunshiney Kinda Day

What a glorious day! It's 56 degrees, the sun is shining, the birds are singing. And it's FEBRUARY! What's going on? This is Seattle....where's the rain? The grey clouds? I'm not sure, but I'll take it.

I actually went on a run (okay...JOG) during my lunch hour and ya know, it didn't suck! Which is awesome in and of itself. Because I am going to MAUI! Yeah...baby...that's right. Maui. 10 glorious days on the ocean. This will be the first time BigB and I have gone on a proper vacation since our honeymoon. It also provides proper motivation for getting into shape. Or at least better shape. I've got twelve weeks to whittle away some of the havoc on my bod.

On other fronts, LadyBug has decided to wake up every morning at 1:30 a.m. and not go back to sleep which has been great fun for all involved. After an hour and 15 minutes this morning, she finally wore herself out and fell back asleep. I'm sure I'm more exhausted than she. All she has to do is sit around and play with soft toys all day. I have to actually WORK to buy her those toys! Ungrateful little soul!

Here's a sweet pic of her that I took for her monthly calendar (see the little hearts on her dress?). How could anyone be upset with a face like that??

Is a NannyMan Trouble?

Here's a question:

Would you let a man watch your baby?

Would it make a difference if he was related to you?

Would it make a difference if your baby was a boy or girl?

How about if your child was a toddler? Grade Schooler?

All day vs. a few hours?



I've been really struggling with this. With respect to equality of the sexes, I shouldn't have a problem with it, right? We, as women, have been struggling with the "glass ceiling," equal pay, and sexist remarks in the workplace, but when it comes to a man watching my baby, I get a little squeamish.

Since my mom had her knee replaced, we've been having my niece's boyfriend (29 yrs old), watch Lady Bug once a week. He's a waiter (not terribly motivated in life), and needs some extra money with the economy hitting his industry pretty hard right now.

He loves kids...wants to get married and have a truckload. Has made it clear to my niece that he'd love to be a stay-at-home dad. He is very sweet with LadyBug...but I always wonder if he's a little *too* sweet. Every week when I leave her with him, I get a little anxious and can't wait to get back home. She always seems happy and content when I return, and happy to see him each week.

Am I obsessing and not being fair?

Desperately Seeking Skinny

As mentioned afore, I work on a college campus. "Fashion" stares me in the face all day long. Right now, every single girl I see has the on "skinny jeans" with boots. Seeing as I'm desperately fighting the "mom look," I went and got me some skinny jeans.

I didn't really want to spend a caboodle of cash on skinny jeans that don't actually make me look skinny or look young enough to wear them. So, I laid out a whole $11 at JCPen.ney. It's true. They were on clearance and they're kinda cute...till you look around back. There's these big-azzzz, copper-colored brads in the shape of a breast cancer/aids ribbon. I figure I'll just cover that up with one of those cute long-ish cardigan thingy that are all the rage.

So I stuff my oversized self into my skinny-sized jeans and cram on some boots, and hey, what d'ya know, I look like a middle-aged mom desperately trying not to look like a middle-aged mom. Emphasis on the desperate. You see, there's more than the average muffin-top awaiting me at the top of my newly found skinny jeans. It's not even a bagel. More like a whole damn cake...oozing out. I try disguising it with the same sweater that's covering up the cheesy design on my jean pockets which doesn't really work....layers adds more girth.

My intern noticed my skinny jeans right away. "Those are so cute!" She squealed. I know as soon as I turned my back she was texting all her friends "OMG my boss has the CHEESIEST skinny jeans on EVER. And she's got a HUGE muffin top. ROTFL."

One of the AA's took one look at me and mentioned that all I needed was a Harley to make my outfit complete. Hmmmm. Not really what I was going for.

I'm thinking that these skinny jeans sure looked a whole lot better on me when they were all the rage in Jr. High. I should probably heed the sage advice that "if it was in fashion once before in your lifetime, you probably shouldn't wear it again." But I'll probably just get a bigger sweater.

Once More for Old Times Sake

I pee'd on a stick today. Somehow, someway, I had convinced myself that I was pregnant. After all that we went through to get LadyBug, I actually thought that I had managed to get knocked up all on my own. On one try. What have I been smoking??

Two weeks ago I noticed something that seemed an awful lot like EWCM. I had weaned Kate the prior month, and was expecting a period at some point. Then the slippery clear stuff. I got a little twinkle in my eye (hadn't I heard that you're most fertile after pregnancy?) and made some serious advances toward BigB. You could tell he was like, WTF, but obviously not confused enough to put up much of a fight.

Then of course all the symptoms started. Boobies a bit sore. Having to pee every two hours during the night, feeling a little queasy. I had done it! The unheard of was going to come true!
I was literally counting my projected due date, names for the new wee one, and the impending move we'd need to make with a fourth in the family. I went through the dreaded TWW, and pulled out a slightly dusty, but unexpired test from the depths of the bathroom cabinet. I waited till BigB had left for work, and then POAS with abandon and sat that little stick on my countertop and started the 60 second countdown.

No second line.

I checked that damn thing like twenty times. Even left it there and went back like an hour later, just in case it needed a little more time to read my pee correctly.

My fantasy ended up in the trash can, wrapped in paper towel to disguise my stupidity.

Being the infertile that I am, I've heard the story countless times. "As soon as you have a baby, your body will know what to do." Or, "my cousin's best friend's aunt couldn't get pregnant, and as soon as she had her first, she got pregnant on her own - didn't even plan it!" I fell for it. Hook, line, and sinker. And, of course, to top it off, eight hours later my favorite aunt showed up. First time in a year and a half. Funny. I still hate that biatch.

I swore up and down that I would NOT go through the emotional roller coaster of years past. If we get pregnant again, we get pregnant again. No more monthly anticipation followed with tremendous crashes. Over and over and over again. Somehow I'm going to have to find a balance. Still "trying" without getting emotionally wrapped up in it all. I'll let ya know how that works out for me.

Just Being and Not Doing

BigB looked over at me tonight and said, "ya know, we've become that old couple."

We were sitting on the couch, just chillin' to some music and enjoying a little down time while LadyBug slept.

"What d'ya mean? That old couple?" I replied.

"You know. That old couple they always talk about. Where she's reading a magazine and showing him everything in it. That's what we're doing. You're reading that catalog, reading it to me, and showing me the pictures."

Its true. I was. It's a Friday night, I'm devouring the latest CrateNBarrell, and showing him practically every page. There's just so much cool stuff in there! We need it all, right? That super cool skillet that makes teeny little pancakes? That sweet mini bar? Those cute red dishes? Doesn't he want to see all this awesome stuff? I'm interested in it...shouldn't he? He is my "other half."

This is what our Friday nights have become. Hanging out with a home retailers magazine. At first glance it may seem a little sad. A little "old." But ya know, I LOVE it. Just doing nothing. Having no where to go. Nothing that has to get done.

Having a baby changes your free time. You crave it. You need it. Those few moments when you can just "be" and not "do." I never really understood it...I mean, how hard can parenting be? Ha. Endless entertaining, diapering, feeding, wailing, bathing. If the baby is awake, you're tending to her. If she's asleep, you're trying to get the kajillion other things done that you've put off: that pile of dishes, the laundry, brushing your teeth, showering.

And then comes the night. When she's finally asleep. The monitor makes no noise but a soothing buzz. Then it's my time. I'll sacrifice sweet sleep for a few hours of nothingness. By the time I have more than a few hours of alone time before bed, I'll have to wear readers and it'll be the latest edition of AARP.