I feel horrible.  Guilty even.  But McKenzie has to go outside.  For good.

The urine spraying started before Mary James was born.  We thought it was stress.  I got one of those Feliway plug-ins thinking it would help suppress his new found form of expression.  We also started letting him out frequently so he could spray his little butt off.  Outside.  And in case you’re wondering, he is fixed/neutered/castrated.

Well, the pheromone plug-in has been dried up for a good two, even three cat-pee-free months.  The urine smell began again the last part of December.

Imagine coming downstairs in the morning, refreshed.  You’re ready for the day and excited about the holidays.  Then it hits you.   The stench assaults your nostrils.  Claws its way into your consciousness, past the thought of  “What’s that smell?”.

NO.  NO.  NO.  NOT AGAIN.

The curtains drenched with urine, and the carpet reeking.  New carpet actually.

I’ve lost count of how many times I have washed the curtains and cleaned the carpet.  We’ve given Mac plenty of chances.

Yes, I could force pills down my cat to try and “fix” his issues.  The meds usually do work.  If by work you mean that your cat is so totally tripped out he can’t spray, much less eat, poop, or meow.  Also, there is the little problem of pilling a cat.  Daily.

Not to mention Mary James will soon be mobile.  Call me crazy, but the last thing I want to worry about her getting into is cat urine.

So, McKenzie honey, we love you.  You have always loved the outdoors, so you’re sort of getting your way.  Sorry, but cat urine sucks.

I’m in the bathroom last night getting ready for bed, and noticed this:

A calendar that has been frozen in time on August 27, 2008.  Don’t ask me why that poor dog has on such a tacky pink outfit, it’s a crazy pet calendar. That night around two-ish I started having contractions, and by 11:50 am August 28 my sweet baby girl was in my arms.  It’s a poignant and perhaps corny reminder of how much everything that has changed since that night, three months ago.  Or it just points out that I’m so out of it, I can’t even remember to rip off the pages to the right date. Nah.

Although, all the changes haven’t been completely smooth (no sleep), overall its been better.  So much better than I could have ever imagined.  It’s definitely made me a little more relaxed.

-I showed up to Thanksgiving lunch with no socks on (not on purpose)…and guess what?  I didn’t care.

-I forgot to put on nursing pads a few weeks ago, and ended up completely drenched at my in-laws.  Embarassing?  Totally.  But I didn’t freak (unlike my former self).

-I even forget stuff at the store, frustating yes, but it sort of makes me feel normal.

-And strict schedules?  Forget it.  No, I’m not talking about being punctual, just knowing what is happening next.  I’ve been obsessed with schedules since I was little.  Mom said I would harass them on vacation about “What’s next?  And after that?  And then what?”  To which the response was always, “WE ARE ON VACATION ERIN!”

Well, now Mary James makes the schedule.  And I’m okay with that.  Most of the time.

The only way I can describe it, is that it sort of feels like Christmas morning.  EVERY morning.  I wake up, think of my baby girl, and can’t wait to go pick her up and kiss her.  I would be lying if I said it was easy and fun all the time, but it is totally WORTH IT.  And I hear it just gets better and better.  Thank you God for our little blessing.

I’ve always liked to multi-task, who doesn’t?  Like cooking lasagna with a fussy baby strapped to your chest, and trying to talk on the phone at the same time.   As Mary James’ gravy train, I gotta refuel, so eating has been thrown into the multi-tasking arena.

Thus, I’ve noticed a change in my eating habits.  Hand-less eating.  Woo hoo!  Totally uncivilized, but very handy when trying to eat and situate a frustrated baby who is trying to breastfeed.  Or hey, chomping on a piece of bread while making tea (sweet of course! mmm) and folding clothes.

Multi-tasking and motherhood…like peanut butter and jelly.

WARNING: Picture of an umbilical cord stump to follow post

So, the umbilical cord stump is supposed to dry up and fall in 1-2 weeks after birth.  Key words: supposed to.  I have faithfully been cleaning Mary James’ stump with alcohol at every diaper change for the past 7 weeks, much to her dislike.  Yes I said 7 WEEKS.  Bless her heart, I know she would like I would like to give her a real bath, in a real bath tub, with lots of water!  Forget this sponge bath mess.  And hey I bet she’d I’d like to meet her cute new belly button.

A couple of weeks ago, her pediatrician cauterized the stump with silver nitrate to encourage it to dry up and fall off.  Well it shrunk the base of the cord, and it irritated the fool out of her super sensitive skin around the stump.  I felt horrible for her.  He also mention that, “Since I was a vet, I could bluntly dissect the cord stump myself.”  Umm…NO!  I can barely manage to spay my own cat much less cut something off my daughter (and yes I know it doesn’t have nerve supply).  Heck, I haven’t even gotten brave enough to cut her fingernails!

I went back to the doc this week, but had to see another lady because my guy was on vacation.  MJ’s been acting like it was irritating her when I cleaned the cord, even though it looked healthy.  I feel like I’m torturing her with the alcohol — so, doctor’s orders or not, I stopped the horrid when her cries change from whimpers of irritation to “…this is BURNING MOM!”  The doctor said it looked fine.  She decided to put a thick piece of suture around the stump to decrease blood flow and again try to get it to fall off.  And told me to continue the alcohol or “stinky evil cold stuff” according to Mary James.  Great.

Well, we’re still waiting.  Mary James is utterly sick of me bathing her belly with alcohol especially at 4 AM, after she has a full belly and is sleepy.  Talk about pulling a rattlesnake’s tail.  I went ahead and made an appoitntment for next week assuming its still going to be around.  Also, I thought if I made an appointment then the stump would fall off.  Logical right?  Although this doesn’t seem to be a logical stump so we may be out of luck. 

So, I’m sitting in a hotel in Atlanta watching Mary James sleep while Ben is doing techy stuff for the Intellectbase conference.  When we first arrived last night, I had a little freak out.  What was I thinking bringing a 6 week old baby to a hotel?

Everything in sight was a nasty source of germs.  The floor, tv remote, chair, lamps, not to mention the comforter.  Have you seen those blacklight studies on shows like 60 minutes?  Totally revolting.  I never touch hotel comforters.  I almost packed the Chlorox wipes, but decided not to as I figured I was just being too obsessive about germs and cleanliness.

Now don’t get me wrong I don’t normally obsess about bacteria, viruses, mold, mildew, dust mites, fungus, dirt…  My house is clean, but I live with 2 dogs and 3 cats, so I admit there is more fuzz and dirt than in a pet-free home.  But its OUR germs and OUR funk!  Not thousands of strange peoples’ grime.  Can you imagine the DNA in this room?  Hair, skin cells, saliva, other bodily fluids…I think I’ll stop now.

Now that I had suddenly become a germaphobe, I was afraid Mary James would sense all the gross things out to get her in our room and become unhappy.  My mom even warned me that even the best babies don’t always do great traveling, especially sleeping in a new place.  Maybe because they know deep down of the nastiness.  They’re not screaming because its not home, they’re screaming “Unclean! Unclean!”

To alleviate some of the “not home” qualities of the hotel room, we brought the Pack and Play to use as her crib.  Off and on the for the past two weeks, Mary James has been eating at 10 pm, going to sleep at 11:30pm and waking up at 5am (yes I know this amount of sleep is an insane blessing for a 6 week old baby– please don’t scream).  I didn’t know what to expect last night, and was quite pessimistic especially after my revelation of hotel rooms.

Despite the crazy worries of her mother, Mary James nursed at 11pm, was asleep by midnight, AND she slept until 5 am.  MIRACULOUS!  Seriously.  I woke up every hour, listening for her, worried about her first night in a new place.  Needless to say she slept better than I did, and man am I thrilled.

No, I’m not expecting a repeat performance tonight.  I won’t lie, it would be great.  But hey, she’s only 6 weeks old, even if she is the best little girl in the whole wide world!

Normally I am an over-organized, perfectionistic, OCD freak.  Versus Ben, who can stand a pair of socks to “live” on his desk for over a month…yeah.  Throughout undergrad and vet school, I color-coded my notes for ease of studying.  Darker color highlights (blue, green, purple) for major headings, then medium (pink, orange) for sub-headings and yellow for important phrases or words.  I really didn’t think anything of it, until my junior year of undergrad when my Genetics prof took one look at my notes, ignored my pressing question, smiled sweetly and asked me if I was a slight perfectionist and possibly a little obsessive.

WHAT?  Normal people don’t organize their notebooks, notes and day planner by color? Their highlighter/pens/markers aren’t in ROY G BIV order?  And their clothes aren’t organized by color and type?  Did I mention I like things to be in fours?  Hmmm…

I mean is there anything better than a to-do list you can cross off?

I always heard people say, Oh I forgot about that quiz, or birthday, or meeting, etc.  I never could manage to “forget” anything that involved a “to-do” (that non-forgetfulness unfortunately didn’t cross over into physics).  I mean I even wanted to forget things but couldn’t.  So, I secretly wondered if people really forgot their “to-dos” or if it was just an excuse.

Well, evidently when I became pregnant my hormones must override the part of my brain that is involved with the whole organization/ remembering part of me.  Unfortunately, the only “people” who have suffered (if you can call it that) from my brain loss are Lucy and Bentley.  And possibly Ben, as I can’t seem to remember conversations he swears we’ve had.  I feed the dogs in the mornings, let them out to do their business, and then, in theory, let them back into the sun room while we’re gone.  But for some reason, step 3 keeps getting deleted in my brain.  I mean it really never crosses my mind that the dogs are outside.  Yeah they’re dogs and can be outside but there’s no shelter and usually no water (unless I remember-keyword- to fill it).

The worst I can remember, is the day I met Ben for lunch and forgot to bring the dogs in.  Usually not a big deal, but there was a nasty thunderstorm and a southern monsoon.  I realized about half the way home, as I was slowing down on the highway because I couldn’t see from the torrent, that the dogs were outside.  CRAP!

I enter the backyard, expecting to be trampled by two sopping wet, muddy beasts.  No trampling….okay…could they have opened the gate and run away during the thunder and lightening?  I start calling their names and hear a rustling near the deck.    Somehow my big ole dogs had figured out a way to army crawl their way under the deck with a 1 ft clearance.

Well, there was also the night mom called around 6:40 to ask if we were coming to dinner?  I didn’t get the message until after 7 and we, of course, had already eaten.  I felt like a horrible daughter calling her back to let her know I had no recollection of dinner plans and I was SO sorry!  She was, as always, sweet & understanding, but man I felt like a jerk.

From what I understand, from other moms, the whole “remembering things” doesn’t get better once the baby is out.  There was even a segment on the NBC nightly news where they called it “Momnesia” having to do w/ the flux of hormones during pregnancy, post-partum, & breastfeeding.  Oh well, the forgetfulness in a way is almost mellowing; since now I truly forget things.  Strangely, I sort of feel more “normal”.  Whatever that means.

Dad Quote:  “Normal is ONLY a setting on the washing machine, Erin.”