I hate to disappoint those of you who still believe, but I'm actually the tooth fairy, and I suck at it. While anticipating becoming a parent, the thought of eventually becoming the tooth fairy never really crossed my mind. Yeah playing Santa Claus and the Easter bunny ran through my head all the time. I'd actually get excited at the idea of playing such a big role in a childs life. But being the tooth fairy kinda threw me for a loop. First off you never know when your child is gonna loose a tooth. Thankfully when my daughter lost her first tooth I had a couple bucks in my purse, but by the time she fell asleep I forgot all about my role as the tooth fairy. Well I soon remembered when I woke her up the next morning and the first thing she did was reach under her pillow. My heart sank as I realized I forgot to switch tooth for money. I had to think fast "Well hunny maybe the tooth fairy didn't get the message yet."..... shoot!
Okay so the next time you'd think I'd be a little more prepared knowing that she had another tooth hanging by a thread. But of course I wasn't. She lost her second tooth and this time I had no cash on me, and a kid who was already asleep in her bed dreaming of the money she'd find under her pillow. So thank goodness for good friends who'll drop by for a visit and bring me a couple bucks. Thanks Angie, but don't be mad, because I forgot yet again to switch tooth for money. This time I woke my daughter up not even thinking about it, went into the kitchen and was pouring her a bowl of cereal when I heard her cry out "What's wrong with the tooth fairy?" I cringed "Oh she must be getting her messages a day late or something." I told her.
No actually she's just a ditz. So let this be a lesson to those of you who have children and haven't hit the loosing teeth stage. Always have a jar of mula to dip into when your child comes to you with a bloody tooth in their little hands. And most importantly post it notes to put on your tooth brush for you to find before you go to bed at night.
Sunday, February 22, 2009
Thursday, February 19, 2009
How not to sit in a shopping cart.....
Back in early 2004 or late 2003 I can't exactly remember for sure we were shopping at Meijer (grocery chain with clothing and such for those not local). Mike my hubby was with me and we had all 3 of our girls as well. We had 2 carts and 1 was mostly full with food the other had out youngest Becca, 2 years old at the time, sitting in the basket. Can't remember why she was sitting there and not in the seat - could be her other sisters were in them.
We were looking at light bulbs or some such in the hardware section of the store and Becca kept leaning over the edge of the cart. We repeatedly told her to sit and stop doing that. Of course when both Mike and I were equal distance away from the cart she falls out - on her head. We both froze as we watched her fall and I was the first to reach her after. I picked her up and watched her silent cry as the bump grew on her forehead in 5 seconds. Then she started screaming and breathing again and we got my purse, the other kids and left everything else there in the carts. We busted butt out of there to the ER. Mike ended up dropping me off and taking the other girls home once I was back in a room. No point in them all hanging around for a few hours. It took that long because we had to have a CAT scan and the tech had to come to the hospital. It being a Saturday or Sunday they were on call. Then I had to hold her still during that - she did not like it at all. But it showed that she had no swelling of the brain and she should be fine - just some bruising. We were sent home with instructions on giving her pain medicine.
She was fine once we got home and had dinner. Her forehead after a few days started looking like a Klingon forehead from Star Trek and of course being the mom that I am - I took pictures of it. As you can see she at that point was such a camera ham she didn't care what she looked like.
This photo was taken a few days after the one above and you can see how the bruising progressed. Don't mind the coloring on the wall behind her - that's a different story. :)
The best part is my mother-in-law had set up a session to have professional photos taken. I called her and suggested she might want to reschedule because of the bruising. Nope she went right ahead and said "oh a little make-up should cover that just fine." Mind you she hadn't seen the actual bruising at this point but I said ok. Below is a scan of one of the shots taken that day. You can see how well or not the make-up covered her bruising. But again ham for the camera.
Moral - even if your kid is old enough to talk back and throw a fit about sitting in the seat, don't let them sit in the basket if they start to lean over the edge.
We were looking at light bulbs or some such in the hardware section of the store and Becca kept leaning over the edge of the cart. We repeatedly told her to sit and stop doing that. Of course when both Mike and I were equal distance away from the cart she falls out - on her head. We both froze as we watched her fall and I was the first to reach her after. I picked her up and watched her silent cry as the bump grew on her forehead in 5 seconds. Then she started screaming and breathing again and we got my purse, the other kids and left everything else there in the carts. We busted butt out of there to the ER. Mike ended up dropping me off and taking the other girls home once I was back in a room. No point in them all hanging around for a few hours. It took that long because we had to have a CAT scan and the tech had to come to the hospital. It being a Saturday or Sunday they were on call. Then I had to hold her still during that - she did not like it at all. But it showed that she had no swelling of the brain and she should be fine - just some bruising. We were sent home with instructions on giving her pain medicine.
She was fine once we got home and had dinner. Her forehead after a few days started looking like a Klingon forehead from Star Trek and of course being the mom that I am - I took pictures of it. As you can see she at that point was such a camera ham she didn't care what she looked like.
This photo was taken a few days after the one above and you can see how the bruising progressed. Don't mind the coloring on the wall behind her - that's a different story. :)
The best part is my mother-in-law had set up a session to have professional photos taken. I called her and suggested she might want to reschedule because of the bruising. Nope she went right ahead and said "oh a little make-up should cover that just fine." Mind you she hadn't seen the actual bruising at this point but I said ok. Below is a scan of one of the shots taken that day. You can see how well or not the make-up covered her bruising. But again ham for the camera.
Moral - even if your kid is old enough to talk back and throw a fit about sitting in the seat, don't let them sit in the basket if they start to lean over the edge.
Saturday, February 14, 2009
Poop in Red Lobster
I must warn you, if you are offended by the word "poop", the discussion of poop, or bad poop jokes, STOP READING! Of course, if you are a mother, then chances are poop has become, or at least once was, part of your regular vocabulary.
Myself, my husband Steve and our son went to eat with Steve's family. Restaurant of choice? Red Lobster (we had mad coupons and gift cards ;) ). This restaurant is 45 minutes away, so we also scheduled to have family portraits done nearby. The picture taking goes splendidly, although it was a little long. We are heading to Red Lobster, and Steve turns to me and says "Do you smell that?" Well, I had NOT smelled anything until he brought it to my attention. It was horrible. We were driving a tiny Geo Metro, so it took about 5 seconds for the entire car to be engulfed in the smell of...you guessed it...poop. I crack the window, and we are laughing hysterically at the fact that someone so tiny could make such a BIG smell. 10 minutes later we get to Red Lobster, and head inside. The wait is long. The place is packed, with people standing everywhere inside and out, waiting for their table. I know I have to change him. I would have opted for the car, but the Metro is way too small, and it was still snowing like a blizzard out. So I put on my humble face, grab the diaper bag and the stink bomb child, and head for the ladies room.
As soon as I enter I know it is going to be bad. The changing table is wedged in between the 2 sinks and the 5 stalls. You have to stand right next to me to wash your hands. I try to wait a few minutes for some of the ladies to leave, but more just keep coming in. I finally cave, open the changing table, plop him down, and start undressing him.
The level of stench in the room is slowly rising with every layer I remove. I am down to the diaper. I turn to the lady washing her hands and say, "I am going to wait until you are finished, this is going to be a little nasty." She laughs and tells me not to worry about it, she has kids too. Off comes the diaper. OH MY GOD. It was as if someone snuck in the vents and flooded the bathroom with nauseating fumes in order to make us all sick and pass out. The lady turns and looks at my child as if he is Lucifers first born, and gets far away as fast as possible.
Another lady comes out of her stall, heads for the sink, stops, looks at me, turns a little paler, and leaves without washing her hands. Enter Little Old Lady. This woman walks in, stops dead in her tracks with the door still open, and says "Oh honey, you shouldn't have done that." Then leaves. I am ten shades of red, my child is laughing hysterically, and people are giving me that "poor child, he has such a terrible mother" look. My sister in law comes in, catches a whiff, and just starts cracking up. "Oh, Bubby, when you poop you sure like to make sure everybody knows it!" I think that is what she said.
I finally have him changed, dressed, my hands washed, and now it is time for my graceful exit. Now, the restrooms are located at the very front of the restaurant, right next to the hostess stand. Figure out what that means? Yes, everyone waiting for a table is crowded around the bathroom door. So I aim my eyes at the floor, and head across the room. I hear someone saying "Look Herb, right there, see that little boy?" I turn my head, and see Little Old Lady, pointing at my son, and talking very loudly so that her husband, apparently hearing impaired, can hear her.
"That's the little boy who pooped so smelly that I can not use the bathroom here, that boy right there, so awful."
I hear a few chuckles around the room, a few sympathetic looks from some younger women who probably have children of their own, and a lot of avoiding eyes.
Then my child waves at her.
"He's so sweet, too bad he smells so bad. Is he sick or does he always smell like that?" She asks me, still talking loudly.
Right at that moment, my three year old neice runs up, grabs my hand and says "Baby Cousin made the bathroom smell really yucky. Let's go eat." And off we went to our table.
*Sigh*
Myself, my husband Steve and our son went to eat with Steve's family. Restaurant of choice? Red Lobster (we had mad coupons and gift cards ;) ). This restaurant is 45 minutes away, so we also scheduled to have family portraits done nearby. The picture taking goes splendidly, although it was a little long. We are heading to Red Lobster, and Steve turns to me and says "Do you smell that?" Well, I had NOT smelled anything until he brought it to my attention. It was horrible. We were driving a tiny Geo Metro, so it took about 5 seconds for the entire car to be engulfed in the smell of...you guessed it...poop. I crack the window, and we are laughing hysterically at the fact that someone so tiny could make such a BIG smell. 10 minutes later we get to Red Lobster, and head inside. The wait is long. The place is packed, with people standing everywhere inside and out, waiting for their table. I know I have to change him. I would have opted for the car, but the Metro is way too small, and it was still snowing like a blizzard out. So I put on my humble face, grab the diaper bag and the stink bomb child, and head for the ladies room.
As soon as I enter I know it is going to be bad. The changing table is wedged in between the 2 sinks and the 5 stalls. You have to stand right next to me to wash your hands. I try to wait a few minutes for some of the ladies to leave, but more just keep coming in. I finally cave, open the changing table, plop him down, and start undressing him.
The level of stench in the room is slowly rising with every layer I remove. I am down to the diaper. I turn to the lady washing her hands and say, "I am going to wait until you are finished, this is going to be a little nasty." She laughs and tells me not to worry about it, she has kids too. Off comes the diaper. OH MY GOD. It was as if someone snuck in the vents and flooded the bathroom with nauseating fumes in order to make us all sick and pass out. The lady turns and looks at my child as if he is Lucifers first born, and gets far away as fast as possible.
Another lady comes out of her stall, heads for the sink, stops, looks at me, turns a little paler, and leaves without washing her hands. Enter Little Old Lady. This woman walks in, stops dead in her tracks with the door still open, and says "Oh honey, you shouldn't have done that." Then leaves. I am ten shades of red, my child is laughing hysterically, and people are giving me that "poor child, he has such a terrible mother" look. My sister in law comes in, catches a whiff, and just starts cracking up. "Oh, Bubby, when you poop you sure like to make sure everybody knows it!" I think that is what she said.
I finally have him changed, dressed, my hands washed, and now it is time for my graceful exit. Now, the restrooms are located at the very front of the restaurant, right next to the hostess stand. Figure out what that means? Yes, everyone waiting for a table is crowded around the bathroom door. So I aim my eyes at the floor, and head across the room. I hear someone saying "Look Herb, right there, see that little boy?" I turn my head, and see Little Old Lady, pointing at my son, and talking very loudly so that her husband, apparently hearing impaired, can hear her.
"That's the little boy who pooped so smelly that I can not use the bathroom here, that boy right there, so awful."
I hear a few chuckles around the room, a few sympathetic looks from some younger women who probably have children of their own, and a lot of avoiding eyes.
Then my child waves at her.
"He's so sweet, too bad he smells so bad. Is he sick or does he always smell like that?" She asks me, still talking loudly.
Right at that moment, my three year old neice runs up, grabs my hand and says "Baby Cousin made the bathroom smell really yucky. Let's go eat." And off we went to our table.
*Sigh*
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Teething Medicine Killing Babies in Nigeria.
I found this sad article while surfing through the web during a bout of stress-induced insomnia.
84 Children Killed By Tainted Teething Drops.
84 Children Killed By Tainted Teething Drops.
Teething Hurts!
As if giving birth were not traumatic enough, as soon as you think life is good again, the baby starts teething. This, to my family, means crying, whining, biting, screaming, and a whole lot of attitude. Not to mention the sleepless nights are back, with my son waking every one to two hours wanting to be soothed and comforted. If he knew what pain killers were he would be calling out for them in his sleep. So we give him teething tablets, tylenol, washclothes, frozen teething rings, carrot sticks, bagels, our fingers even....but those teeth have declared war on our peaceful way of life. The teeth are winning.
"This Too Shall Pass" has become our favorite quote. So my husband Steve and I try our hardest to look past the evil teething spirit that has taken over our once sweet angelic son, and try to linger in the moments when the pain has subsided. Sleep deprivation, a new found respect for quiet, and lots of snuggles. This too shall pass.
Jackie from Missouri wrote to me about her experience with teething:
My son was 5 months old when he started teething. He drooled constantly. He went through bibs constantly because it was the only way to keep his shirts dry. He did run some really low grade fevers, but not often. When he got real cranky we used teething tablets and Tylenol. They seemed to help at times, but there were other times that that stuff would just not work. I never thought it would end. The only good thing was he could start eating food. It finally ended and it all worked out. Now that the teeth came in brushing was a different story. Lol……….
"This Too Shall Pass" has become our favorite quote. So my husband Steve and I try our hardest to look past the evil teething spirit that has taken over our once sweet angelic son, and try to linger in the moments when the pain has subsided. Sleep deprivation, a new found respect for quiet, and lots of snuggles. This too shall pass.
Jackie from Missouri wrote to me about her experience with teething:
My son was 5 months old when he started teething. He drooled constantly. He went through bibs constantly because it was the only way to keep his shirts dry. He did run some really low grade fevers, but not often. When he got real cranky we used teething tablets and Tylenol. They seemed to help at times, but there were other times that that stuff would just not work. I never thought it would end. The only good thing was he could start eating food. It finally ended and it all worked out. Now that the teeth came in brushing was a different story. Lol……….
Monday, February 9, 2009
What Is This Nonsense??
Hi! Welcome to the brand-new, never been used Moms Who Rock blog!!
Here you will soon find Real-Life Stories from Real-Life Moms like you!!
From Potty-training, to Leaving for college, and everything before, after, and in-between.
You are not alone! There are so many Moms that rock out there!
I want to hear your story too! For information on how to contribute an article to this blog, email me at momswhorock@gmail.com
Thanks, I look forward to all of your stories!!
Moms Rock!
<3,
Angie
Here you will soon find Real-Life Stories from Real-Life Moms like you!!
From Potty-training, to Leaving for college, and everything before, after, and in-between.
You are not alone! There are so many Moms that rock out there!
I want to hear your story too! For information on how to contribute an article to this blog, email me at momswhorock@gmail.com
Thanks, I look forward to all of your stories!!
Moms Rock!
<3,
Angie
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
