Crying Babies on a Plane!

This month, Monkey took his first airplane trip and I spent 3 whole days away from him. Family vacation time/visiting grandparents time came and went, mostly without a hitch.

Monkey did surprisingly well on the flights...and we had 4 of them with him. Since we had to travel across the country, we had a 1 hour flight and a 5 hour flight in each direction. Thankfully, after each flight we had people approach us to tell us how impressed they were with him. YAY! 

No one wants to be the mommy with the screaming baby that can't be calmed. We found that our solution did not lie in the realm of pharmaceutical land, or toy land, or walking/cooing/soothing land. Our solution came in the form of food, and lots of it. I swear, Monkey got more bottles on the plane rides than he does in 2 straight days normally. HOWEVER...it kept him happy. Generally speaking, the pattern was play, fuss, food, play, fuss, food, sleep, diaper change (and possibly outfit change from spit up) and repeat. That's OK, if it means that we had one of the best behaved children on the plane.

Once we arrived on the opposite side of the country, we had a car ride. Great, Monkey's favorite thing (not really). It's not my favorite thing to do with him either, especially when the car seat my mother borrowed rocked and moved to the point of me thinking that him riding in my lap would be safer!

Monkey loved seeing his grandparents, and we loved driving through some of our favorite areas with him. Then Ben had to head back home for work, while Monkey and I stayed behind because I had a wedding to attend. Not fun. Well, the time before I left for the wedding was fine...leaving Monkey was not. That and the wedding I went to had batshit crazy difficult people in attendance...but don't they all?

I personally think that someone should have smacked some sense in to me when I said that I was going to get to relax on my weekend away from the baby. I slept less that weekend than I do in a full 24 hours at home with Monkey. The maid of honor and I were so worried about getting the bride everything she wanted that neither of us really slept. To the point where I didn't think I had gotten enough tablecloths and lost sleep over THAT! Wow.

But, the wedding turned out wonderfully, everyone most people were happy, and my friend got what she wanted, so isn't that what counts? And when I got Monkey back, well, that was one of the best moments with him so far...for me and my parents.

The way home was a little more difficult than the way there, though. For one, Ben wasn't there to help me. Two, I essentially hadn't slept in 3 days, but especially not the night before coming home, since I had to be up at 3:30 am to catch a flight to pick up Monkey before starting the cross-country flight. Then I didn't put Monkey in his sling (as I should have) so my arms felt like they were about to fall off. On top of that, he went through FIVE outfits that day...from a variety of bodily functions.

When we ended our 5 hour flight, we almost missed the 1 hour flight because we had not been allowed to land for an hour due to weather. So here I was, sprinting through the airport with an infant (who was throwing up because of being jostled so much while full of milk), a duffel bag, and a rolling duffel that refused to stay on it's wheels. We made it on the plane because of the baby. They actually called the plane back because I had Monkey (and probably looked as though I would go all crazy if they told me I couldn't get on when I could see the plane 5 feet from the jet way). Not to mention after I got on, about 10 other people got on too...you'd think when that many planes are delayed they might hold outgoing flights just a bit.

But we made it home, my bag (that didn't make it on the plane) was delivered the next day, and we are all a bit worse for wear happy that we made the trip.

The screaming haunts my dreams

All day. That's how long Monkey screamed. There were times when I envisioned a banshee living with me, because that's what he sounded like. A tiny, male, screaming banshee in my arms, in my car, in his crib, on a walk, on his playmat...and at times even while eating. Argh.

I just about lost it. I know it was just a bad day and that most days (aka about 95% of them) are not like that, but all I need is the one bad day to realize how lucky I am that he's as calm as he is most of the time. I really started to lose it when he started clutching at my chest with his tiny talons...and drew blood. That was it. He was bathed. He was fed. He was dry. He went to bed with mitts on his hands so that he wouldn't scratch himself, since there was no way I was going to be able to trim his nails. He then screamed in his crib for about 30 minutes and finally went to sleep.

On top of all of this, Ben is gone for a couple of weeks. Stupid military with their stupid "trainings." It had to coincide with one of the worst days for record screaming.

Mommy needs a stiff drink. Preferably something with an umbrella.

The Weight Loss Encumbrance

Come on fatty, MOVE!

I officially have no will power. Seriously...none. I keep saying "today's the day I really start my diet," and I keep falling off the proverbial wagon before I even get on it! Jillian Michaels is begging to kick my butt into shape, and my butt is resisting with the power of a 10 ton elephant.

Why would I resist looking my best? I don't feel great about my body right now, but apparently my body has other ideas contrary to mine about weight loss. I think a huge part of my problem is (and always has been) portion control. I'm one of those strange people who loves food, but to whom nothing ever sounds good. Therefore, when something piques my interest, I WAY overdo it. Think John Pinette at a Chinese buffet:

Today's already ruined. I'm already in too deep, and Monkey has been in a bad mood all day, which means no gym for me. Lucky for me the little bugger likes walks, so I did SOMETHING. I'll start the diet tomorrow. As Scarlett O'Hara said, "tomorrow is another day!"

Hello. My name is...

Do you need a Xanax?

Twitchy, apparently. Because I can't stop moving. If Ben has Monkey, and I am in the same room, I start bouncing like I'm trying to soothe Monkey. If I see someone on T.V. shaking or swaying or anything, I immediately start. I cannot sit still. My feet or my head or my hands (or all three) must be moving at all times. I must be going insane. I would not be at all surprised if our bed falls apart because I'm shaking so much in my sleep that all the bolts loosen and the integrity of the bed is severely compromised. 

Oh, did I mention that I'm being eaten alive by the devil's minions (aka mosquitoes and gnats)? It wasn't until we moved to the south that I discovered that gnats bite. And apparently I'm on the menu EVERY DAY. I counted my bites today. I have just under 30!!! All of which popped up in 2 days, and I HAD BUG SPRAY ON! These little monsters apparently think I'm the best 3-course meal ever, and no amount of poison will deny them their desires.

On top of the shaking and the bug bites, I'm sore. I'm sure the twitches aren't helping the soreness...but I thought that maybe if I really started working out that I would calm down and be able to relax. So I started the 30-day Shred. while I'm sure my butt will look great at the end of it, my muscles are not thanking me now...especially when I have to tote Monkey around all day. My left arm and shoulder are about to go on strike. Then I'll be left without my baby-carrying arm (because carrying him with my right arm just feels wrong) so I'll  have a screaming baby, no left arm, and a complete inability to do anything that requires two-handed coordination. Welcome to insanity.

Hobbies? I'm trying to keep the house standing!

I really want to learn how to make crocheted wire jewelry. Specifically cuffs. The problem? I don't have the time while Monkey is sleeping and the energy to learn at the same time. All of my energy goes into him. Therefore, when he is sleeping, my pent up energy must go towards cleaning, cooking, laundry, the pets, and (of course) my nasty twitching habit. Who has time for jewelry?

So, ultimately, I'm a twitchy one-armed itchy bug-bitten monster who aspires to have personal time to craft and read and relax, but does not possess the time or constitution to accomplish any more than simply the day-to-day necessities. That may or may not include maintaining my own sanity.

My Truths of Parenting a Newborn/Infant

 I was thinking the other day about Murphy's Law (you know, the one saying that anything that can go wrong, will?) and how it applies when you are the parent (or in my case, mommy) of a newborn/infant. Keep in mind these also have to do with the fact that I am married to a man who "de-stresses" by playing extremely loud and sometimes overly violent video games, so that affects many of my truths.

1-Spit up is inevitable. Embrace it as your new fashion accessory.
      Monkey spits up at least a little after every feeding. This does not change based on what he consumes. That means that unless I am diligent in being armed with a burp rag and that rag is under his mouth I will have spit up on me almost all the time. Luckily I'm getting pretty good at anticipating when the white river will start flowing, and once you get to that point it's easy to catch it. Unless it's a flood, then there's nothing you can do.

2-Daddy cannot handle screaming. Apparently that's Mommy's area.
      If Ben has Monkey and a tantrum begins, Ben  has 2 solutions. Solution A is to stick a bottle in Monkey's mouth and hope that he's hungry. Solution B is to hand PP off to me. Normally not a big issue, but then Murphy's Law comes into play: When this happens I will inevitably be in the middle of doing something where holding a baby is not a good idea...like playing with fire (aka cooking) or working on plyometrics (required for getting clothes in and out of the washer/dryer).

3-"Quality time" apparently means playing video games and hoping Monkey is interested.
      This is how Ben "plays" with Monkey. There usually is no tummy time or real quality interaction unless I say something, and even then I get "but he's not crying." I had no idea that if baby's not crying then he doesn't need interaction. Huh.

4-There is no such thing as a break
      Ben takes the night shift once a week. This is supposed to be where I get to sleep an entire night through and he gets up with Monkey. Great! Except that he doesn't wake up unless Monkey is SCREAMING BLOODY MURDER, and even then Ben waking up is not guaranteed. Most of the time it ends up in me hearing Monkey, waking Ben up, and then 5 minutes later waking him up again because he fell back to sleep. Then, about 15 minutes later, Ben will wake me up because he can't figure out how to re-swaddle Monkey...well, that's if he even changed his diaper. There have been nights where I get up in the morning to find him swaddled exactly how I did it the night before and a diaper so full I'm surprised he isn't red as a tomato on his bum.

5-Yay! I'm getting a workout from carrying Monkey. Too bad my left arm is reaping all the benefits.
      I almost always carry him on my left arm. Why? That way I might be able to function with my right arm. However, I'm seriously thinking that by the end of this I'm going to look like Hellboy...one arm way bigger than the other (and everyone else will know which side is the "weak side").


6-I am tummy time.
    So, we all know that tummy time is important for newborns/infants so that they can strengthen their necks/arms/shoulders/backs. Great. Monkey HATES to be on his tummy...unless he's on my tummy. Great. I thought for sure I would have more time before I became a human jungle gym.

7-Finally...in reality I am living with 2 children (at least in some respects).
     Ben is a wonderful man...kind, considerate, a wonderful provider. He's funny (at times) and can pleasantly surprise you when you need it most. However, he apparently cannot sort laundry, fold or put away clothes, clean up coffee cups, water bottles, shoes, or socks, sweep a floor, make a bed, wash a dish, or pack his own bag for work. Oh, and when his World of Warcraft account got hacked and all of his stuff was stolen, he reacted not unlike Sheldon (minus the authorities being called).

That's all he's got?

I know I'm totally jinxing myself here...but really, I'm surprised. Monkey woke up at midnight for a feeding. Fine, I'd already slept 2 hours, so at least I feel like I've gotten some shut eye already. After only eating 2oz (damn child eats 4oz at every feeding and goes 3-4 hours between feedings, but with only 2oz in him I seriously think we're going to have sleep issues tonight) he fell back asleep.

So, I read a little more of Rants from Mommyland (my current favorite blog) and put him down in his crib. Of course, the second he touches the mattress, his eyes open. I, thinking that the Dr. JUST told me (as in today) to put him to bed drowsy but not asleep, leave him there and walk out of the room. Commence fussing. He cried for 5 minutes...and now silence.

I can't help but think that was too easy. Perhaps he's in there plotting my demise, and I will see what that plan consists of all too soon. Or it really was that easy...in which case I should count my blessings, not question it, and go back to bed.

Hah...like my crazy brain will allow that to happen!

(edit: I knew I spoke too soon...he woke up 30 minutes later and now we're both awake on the couch. Who knows how this will end!)

Man I'm lazy lately...

I don't like this. No project work since...January? Ugh. that's too long. Not to mention I'm slacking on the working out front. OK, kind of. I get on the treadmill almost every day, but it's not the same as getting in the gym for Zumba and really sweating it out. Is it horrible that I can't wait for Monkey to get his vaccines so that he can go in childcare at the gym while I work out. It feels selfish just saying it, but there it is. Maybe I'm turning into the Wicked Witch of the West, thinking about myself.

Then again, maybe I'm being more like Glinda, the good witch. Maybe knowing how to get what I need will make me a better mommy (oh hell, I know that's true, but still...sometimes that lovely mommy guilt kicks in and I feel like I should be doing everything for him and if I want something for myself that's wrong). Damn mommy guilt...daddy's don't get that. At least Ben doesn't seem to. He has NO problem coming home, saying hi, and getting on the computer to play games. I'm not saying he doesn't deserve to relax...he totally does. But it would be nice if, instead of waiting for me to ask him to take the baby, he would just come home, change, and take Monkey, no questions asked, no waiting for me to almost have a meltdown before saying "do you want me to take him?"

OK, now that that's done. I need to get my butt off this couch and do something. I was going to take Monkey for a nice long walk, but we're having thunderstorms all day, so that's out. Grrr...stupid mother nature!