I have been an absolute, no good, total slacker on my blog. My excuse? Summer school. Fun? Yes! Super accelerated? Totally. I will be back. I’ve got to write down my memories before they float out of my head.
Oh and I have a great story about food poisoning. Excited yet?

Teething biscuits.  Do they really exist?  I can’t find them anywhere!

My daughter has started teething (okay she’s been gnawing on everything for like four months), but now she can gum hard food.  Versus chewing on teethers, my finger, the cat’s tail, anything within her reach.  I know she would like something more substantial than a puff of wheat to smash between her toothless jaws.

I thought, Hey! I know! I will find her some teething biscuits.  Other moms told me of their greatness; how much babies love them, really helps with painful teething, yada yada yada.  On the hunt I went for these magical biscuits.

And on.

And on.

And on.

I went to our neighborhood Kroger.  Negative.  Tried Wal-Mart…um none there.  How bout Food Lion?  Nope.  I went to “the city” (man I sound country), which is a mere forty-five mintue drive, to pick up some items and decided to stop in a Publix.  A grocery store heaven if you ask me.  Why oh why can’t we get a Publix?  Real fresh fruit.  Actual choices.  Healthy food.  I’m salivating.  But alas, Publix failed.  NO toofer biscuits.  And for good measure I checked Kroger and Target too.  Big zilch in the toofer biscuit department.

And then it hit me!  The internet!  My friend!  There have got to be teething biscuits somewhere on here right?  The internet has EVERYTHING!  Well, Amazon didn’t have any in stock.  No Gerber Biter Biscuits, no organic teething biscuits, ZILCH!  They ensured me that they could e-mail me as soon as some of these amazing goodies came available.  What sweeties.  I did find a place that was selling organic teething biscuits but you had to buy like 144 of the suckers for around forty bucakroos – yeah, no thanks.

Did I mention I found one box of organic teething biscuits at Kroger eventually?  My daughter loved them.  Then I realized they had expired six months ago.  Well they still tasted good.  Now they are gone.

And yes I did try other food items for teething.  Melba toast – WAY too breakable, friggin hard, and didn’t dissolve quickly.  Random English tea biscuit/cookie – very messy, impossible to remove from hair, tasted fantastic…mmmm, but probably had way too much sugar!  And none had the qualities I was looking for (and had been told about).

I started to wonder if the teething biscuits were dangerous.  Or poisoned.  Or maybe every single baby in the world was teething right now?  Why such insane difficulty in finding these things?

In the end, Wal-Mart came through.  And yeah, yeah I know people hate Wally World, but when you live in a small town with very few options for groceries it can be a lifesaver.  I can see an old Wal-Mart exec sitting at his desk all Mr.Burns-like, tapping his fingers together…yes, yes that’s what we want you to think. Oh well.

And the teething biscuits?  Well this is what I finally found:

Mary James loved them.  I freaked a little when I discovered they were “A product from China” but I did some research and they checked out.  Phew!  So ends the saga of the toofer biscuits.  Yippee!

Want more Wordless Wednesdays?  Check out Wordless Wednesday or 5 Minutes for Mom!

I love this commercial!  I can’t stop singing the song, as ridiculous and stupid as it may be.  Enjoy!

Nanerpuss rocks!

On my way home last night I met a stupid driver.  No, a rude, crappy, still-pisses-me-off-thinking-about-it, driver.

There I was on the interstate, one exit away from home.  And then IT showed up.

I was= in the slow-lane (as I’m about to get off the interstate), there are 5-6 cars to my left in the fast-lane, and  I see a car coming down the ramp to merge onto the interstate at break neck speed.  I looked to see if I could move over for him (see I was trying to be nice), but no.

A stream of cars was to my left and there was no way I could get over.  I thought briefly of trying to slow down to let him merge, but there was no time and this guy was head toward Mach3 speed.

If I was in this situation (and have been as I drove to vet school via the interstate everyday for four years…) I would have slowed down.  Just saying…

So what did el stupido driver do?  He sped up and tried to merge.

INTO MY FRICKIN CAR!!!!!!!!!!

The side of the car that MY DAUGHTER is on.  With this realization my vision went RED and few flowery words spewed from my mouth (sorry Mary James, thank goodness you were asleep).

Last time I checked, the merging vehicle has to yield.

Oh and to top it off, the bastard honked.  Actually slamming his fist into his horn repeatedly is more accurate.  So I gave him a piece of my mind, and a certain expressive appendage made its appearance (yes, I know it’s not Christian, thank goodness for grace).

As I’m getting off at the next exit, my little “friend” again laid his hand on the horn as he drove past the exit, and my stupid finger appeared again.  I swear it has a mind of it’s own, I never remember making a conscious decision for it to appear.  The joys of a temper.  And yes, I know it just fuels the road rage.

Needless to say I need to work on my reaction to bad drivers but more importantly we made it home safe and sound.

So guess what?  The economy is in the pot.  You didn’t know?  Really?

A recap of tonight’s news: layoffs, layoffs, layoffs, how to save money, the stock market sucks, girl scout cookies reduce number per box (seriously?!?), killer winter storm, U.S. postal service possibly cutting back on delivering the mail (what the…?  They can do that?), Blago-whatever his name is (blah, blah, blah), who’s losing money, we’re all losing money, no jobs, no health care, recession, recession, recession, recession, recession.

Wait.  There’s a recession?

Just kidding.

I GET IT.

And I’m sick of it.  I’ve started watching the last half of the nightly national news to miss the dreary, repeated “the sky is falling” reports.  Unless you live under a log with toad, you see the chunks of blue sky with fluffy white clouds crashing down all around you.

During the holidays, I watched very little news and found that I was much less stressed, and generally a much nicer person.  I admit that I like to be in the know. I used to think think it is my civic duty to be aware of the world around me.  Although I totally get the saying “ignorance is bliss”.

I mean what kind of world do we live in that you can’t just sit down and enjoy a new episode of Lost without a constant reminder of how money is tight.  Do I really need a commercial on how cost efficient macaroni-n-cheese is?  (3 servings for just $1…yippee!)  Why can’t commercials be their stupid, mind numbing, annoying selves, without stressing me out.

Maybe I’ll just watch Noggin all day.  Why you ask?  Well…  There are no commercials.  It’s mind numbing.  Mary James loves the guy on Blues Clues.  Oh and there’s NO crappy economy references.

I know not watching/reading the news isn’t really adult-like behavior and it’s quite like sticking my head in the sand.  But, what am I going to do to fix it?  Absolutely nothing.  Big fat nothing.

So, for the betterment of those around me I’m cutting back on my news consumption, or at least any news about the economy.  You can thank me later.

I’ve heard from many others, and even read a funny blog post or two about that diaper.  You know, the one that explodes, ends up in every crevice possible, and all over anything in close proximity.  And yeah I’m talking about poop.  Gross yes, but really people, poop can be funny.

Today was the day.

We went for MJ’s four month well visit with the dreaded vaccines.  Nothing like watching someone inflict pain on your child to start off the day.  Waaa!

I asked her pediatrician about the lack of poop for a good solid day.  I mean, not that I was complaining.  Anyone who has a kid in diapers would love a poop-free day.  He said the lack of poopage was perfectly normal, especially in breastfed babies.  And no the doc did not say “poopage”, although I wouldn’t put it past him.  He has a great personality.  He grew up on farm and last time we joked about the poor cows who get the crap knocked out of their udders while their little ones feed.  Yeah.

Well, it started as I was feeding her lunch.  I could hear the rumbles and productivity of a happy gastrointestinal tract (okay, happy guts).  And feel the growing weight of the diaper as it expanded  precariously.  With every toot I wondered if it was going to hold.  I mean the dams gotta break sometime.

As I was taking her to the changing table, my mother-in-law called to check on her well visit.  Mary James’ bowels seized my moment of hesitation.

The mother load arrived.

It was so shockingly loud, that I actually checked to see if I was covered by the explosion.  All I can say is thank goodness it’s wintertime and she had on pants.

Since I was on the phone, my brain was on auto-pilot and I started to change the diaper like I normally would.  Like it was a normal diaper.  At this point, I now had one hand on the baby, one hand covered in goo and the phone wedged between my ear and shoulder.  Smooth.  Real smooth.

Mary James was as happy as a clam.  She kept giggling and cooing as she kicked her little legs, and poo continued to go EVERYWHERE.  Poo and mustard share a common bond, at least in my life.  Mustard manages to get on my elbows or strange places, like the back of my knee.  I don’t know how it got there, or how long its been there.  Now imagine the mustard as poo.

After six baby wipes (and I’m someone who tries to use every inch of a wipe), I decided a bath was definitely in our future.

I’ve learned alot today.  Baby pants are freakin’ awesome.  Pampers have a limit.   Never try to change a crazy full diaper while on the phone with your mother-in-law.  And most importantly, beware the day with no poo.

Last night we rang in the New Year with friends.  It was great.  Or at least I think it was.

Yesterday morning I started cleaning the house, vaccuuming all the fur away, mopping, wiping, washing, etc.  In between feeding and playing with Mary James.  Around 4 pm IT started.  The horrible, “I’m-in-pain-please-stop-it-mom” cry.  She wailed and coughed and snotted.  I tried everything and finally resolved to let her nurse, even gasp if she wasn’t hungry.  It worked!  She ate a little bit, nursing calmed her down and she slept.  Hard.

Around 7 (as our guests started to arrive) she started to stir and seemed ready to eat.  She ate rice cereal without ever cracking an eye (CLUE #1).  I attempted feeding her a bottle (stupid,stupid,stupid) with a lid that wasn’t tightened (I forgive you Ben).  And yes it poured all over my already fussy baby.  The crying begin again.

Being a vet, I understand the frustration of trying to help a animal in pain who can’t tell you where it hurts.  But man, no one can explain the absolute agony and utter helplessness of trying to stop the pain of your baby with an unknown cause.

So I took the ole shotgun approach.  I took her temperature – it was normal.  She was chewing hard as she wailed, so I tried Oragel.  This seemed to help a little so I gave her some infant Tylenol.  For good measure, I gave her a bath.

She was too uncomfortable and thrashy to rest in her crib.  So in desperation, she slept for 2 hours straight in various peoples’ arms.  And not in silence.  No.  Through Rock Band 2, dogs barking, kids squealing, and laughter.   SHE SLEPT.  Peacefully.

She woke up with a runny, red eye…which may have been the cause of all her discomfort.  Pinkeye?  Ulcerated cornea?  Blocked tear duct?   I wondered.  But it looks great today!

So, I apologize to any of my guests if I seemed distant.  I was.  My energy was poured into my sweet baby girl.  But I wouldn’t change a thing.  Minus the hurting baby.  My friends, my love, and our new baby all ringing in 2009 with champagne and sparkling grape juice (yum!).

Tonight we had Christmas dinner with Ben’s side of the family.  Someone used the word sarcastic, and my niece, who is in kindergarten, asked what it meant.  Her mother explained that being sarcastic is when you say something that is really the opposite of what you actually mean.  Seemingly kind of hard to explain to a 6 year old.  Her mom asked her if she had ever been sarcastic.

My niece replied:

“Well there’s this boy, Gabe, in my kindergarten class who doesn’t listen and is bad at coloring.  When he shows me his picture I say ‘Fabulous Gabe.’”

I don’t know what I love more.  The fact that she said fabulous, or that she said “…bad at coloring” with total disdain in her voice.

What a great euphemism for stupid people…they must have been bad at coloring in kindergarten.