Oh, how she breaks us down...

A few weeks ago Dennis and I began having the conversation about when to nix the pacifier. The consensus was to try and do away with it when Kaylee turned 2 (which is just around the corner).

We also agreed that it may very well be harder on us than it is on her.

The pacifier (which she fondly refers to as her "night-night") is an instant silencer 97.6% of the time. It saves me from public embarrassment in restaurants, grocery stores, and the library. It helps her go to sleep. It seems to be the magic ingredient that gets her to take naps.

And it is also her own sad little version of crack cocaine.

Recently, we've noticed she's taken up quite the attachment to the dearly beloved night-night - moreso than usual. We suspected that maybe she senses the end is near, and she better take what she can get before it's taken from her.

So - today, as she asked for it for pretty much each and every waking moment, we realized we should probably nip this thing in the bud before the big birthday. It's really getting pretty pathetic. Our rule used to be "only when you're sleeping," but our little manipulator broke us down at some unidentifiable point (I'm guessing during an illness or a way-too-frigging-long car ride), and we bent the rules.

We decided, in a decision that was nothing short of impulsive, that tonight would be the night. I told Dennis she would break us.

And break us she did.

We had about a 20 minute car ride that consisted of complete and utter drawn out wailing and screaming and sobbing and the most pathetic, tearful scream of, "I. NEED. my. NIGHT-NIGHT!"

Over. And over. And over. Again.

Sometimes all Dennis and I could do was to simply look over at each other and burst into laughter. She sounded so very desperate and needy.

And her screams were beginning to break down our very cores.

Dammit!

We got in the house, Dennis tried to calm her down by cuddling with her on the couch, but nothing would do the trick. We decided to cave.

I dug a pacifier out from one of the multiple pockets of my newly purchased Destructed Khakis from Old Navy (so stinking comfy!) and tossed the pacifier to Dennis on the couch. He dropped it, and then pointed it out to Kaylee and told her to go get it.

She scurried over to it, squatted down on the floor, and just stared at it, probably thinking something along the lines of, "Where have you BEEN all my LIFE! I freaking LOVE you!" Then she promptly popped that sucker in her mouth and carried on as usual.

Instant transformation. Nothing but smiles and songs and cute little jibberish like, "Don't hit Mommy! Mommy loves you!" and "I need candy" and "Hee-haw, hee-haw, hee-haw" the rest of the night.

20 minutes. We didn't last more than 20 minutes.

We need serious help.

I am soliciting your advice. Tell me your tried and true methods of nixing the binkie. Sooner, rather than later - please???

Well, we're official members of the Poop is Fun to Play With Club

I can't believe it's taken us 22 months to officially earn our membership into this prestigious club. Sure, Kaylee had the whole episode when she was about 6 months old where she crafted a beautiful poop painting with her toes, but it wasn't until about 15 minutes ago that she inducted herself into the Poop is Fun to Play with Club.

I was sitting here, enjoying the fact that I could actually blog because Kaylee was quietly napping. I was working on some details for an upcoming food-themed week on the blog full of recipes, tips, giveaways and healthy, money-saving ideas. I was also trying to figure out how to tell you about the great books (11 so far) that I've read this year. So, I hear her start to fuss, but I let her be because it wasn't time for her to get up yet, and she was just whining a little bit.

Well, the whining quickly turned into a full blown fit, and I'm thanking my lucky stars I went in there at the precise moment I did or I fear that Kaylee would've facilitated her very own Extreme Nursery Makeover: Poop Edition.

I walk in and she's clutching her diaper - which is not on her body, and she's quietly saying, "Diaper off...diaper off."

Yes, my little baby genius. You are right. Your diaper is off. And your bed has poop on it. And you are playing with your poop. And I am totally grossed out.

So, the plans about food week and the ideas about sharing my must-reads with you had to wait.

I thought perhaps I could finish some of my thoughts by letting her watch Barney on the portable DVD player here in the office. But, she knows how to change it to Spanish now, and if there's anything more annoying than Barney, it's Barney and his obnoxious little pals singing in Spanish, so I'm afraid that's the end of my writing for today.

Because we can only take so much of Barney and the Wiggles

Kaylee's been sick since about Tuesday (doctor said it was nothing more than a cold), and when she's sick, we let her watch about as much TV as she wants. Often, it's all that will calm her down.

Isn't it amazing how the very things that irritate us the most right now (uh...Barney and the Wiggles) can be so soothing to her?

Dennis and I can only take so much. Seriously. So, we've gotten to the point of just being totally ridiculous.

We can either nix the videos altogether, or we can have one crying, whiny, cranky kid who just needs a dose of Barney or the Wiggles to make the world a better place again.

We'd rather have a happy child.

So, what do we do? We put the videos on and then start dancing like idiots - I mean totally over-the-top, worse than Steve Urkel dancing.

Laugh all you want. It's our way of dealing with it. Parents do some crazy crap when they get an overconsumption of annoying toddler programs. Some turn to booze. Some might take up crack. Others might run away from home or join the circus. Anything to get away.

Us? Well, we dance until we have sufficiently irritated our child - just so she has a taste of the irritation that we, ourselves, experience. We start to dance and after we've gotten obnoxious enough for Kaylee to peel her eyes away from the TV, she notices us and gets a terrified look on her face and begins screaming a frantic, "NO! No-no-no! No! NO!"

And then we laugh until it hurts.

Because laughing is better than crack cocaine, folks.

I'll take diarrhea of the mouth with a side of insomnia for 200, Alex.

When I talked about getting my priorities straight and not feeling guilty if certain things (i.e. the blog) had to take a back burner, I really didn't think I'd go two weeks without writing at all. But, I did. And I survived. And so did you. And here we are again.

I haven't written much because - well, I'm tired. Seriously tired. As in dragging all day and feeling like I could take a nap at any given moment, and frankly - I haven't had the brain power to write anything that really makes sense.

So, instead, I've been reading a lot. Reading books by people who were, at one point, getting enough sleep to write interesting and entertaining things that actually made sense. (I'll be doing a post about some of the great books I've been reading at some point in the hopefully-not-too-distant future...)

I'm working with my doctor to get this sleep thing figured out so I can feel like a normal person again. For several weeks, I'd fall asleep with no problem at all, but I'd wake up pretty much every two hours on the dot. Can we say annoying? Ugh.

Then my doctor switched me to a different antidepressant (fondly known in this house as ABPs for any of you newbies out there) that didn't put such a huge dent in our budget that I had to wonder...hmmmm, do we buy mama's happy pills and wipe our butts with newspaper this month, or do we buy toilet paper and skip the pills?

Joking...

About the toilet paper thing, anyway. We've never really had the meds vs. toilet paper dilemma, but seriously, what I was on was crazy expensive, so we decided to give something else a try. Plus, I think Dennis and I would both agree that we'd take out a second mortgage on the house and give up the internet, TV and chocolate if it meant I could keep my ABPs.

Now, I was having the sleep trouble even before I started the new stuff, but now, instead of waking up every two hours, I fall asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow at 10, but I wake up anywhere between 1 a.m. and 3 a.m. and never fall back asleep.

It's torture.

So, we're decreasing my meds for a week to find out if that change alone will improve my sleep while still managing my anxiety/depression. Oh, how I love the waiting game!

But, in the meantime, I have a prescription for what I hope is something wonderful - Ambien, my friends.

Unfortunately, though - I'm on call at work for the next two nights, so it's like someone is dangling a Kit Kat bar in front of my face and every time I think about having a bite, they snatch it away...I've got the prescription in my hot little hands, but I don't suppose driving into work at 2 a.m. to deal with a psych patient while I, myself, am under the influence of Ambien would be a fantastic idea. So, two more nights and then hopefully I'll get a solid 8 hours in a row thanks to yet another little pill that will hopefully contribute to my happiness.

So - on top of this whole I'm not frigging SLEEPING thing, Kaylee got sick last night.

Crappity, crap, crap.

Congestion, nasty cough, snot, crankybuttedness, the whole 9. And I freaked out. It drug up everything we went through when she was so sick and ended up in the hospital, when she got sick again just after being released from the hospital, facing doctors who didn't understand the severity of her recurrent illness, and eventually taking her in for emergency surgery. That whole thing began with a simple ear infection gone really, really bad, so you know there was a part of me that was wondering if it might happen again.

This is the first time she's been sick since her surgery, and I know kids are more prone to ear infections when they've got colds. So, I'm just praying it doesn't get worse.

In other news (hey, I go two weeks without writing - you can pretty much count on getting a smorgasbord of random thoughts that I've had bottled up for 14 days...), the whole cooking healthy meals with fresh ingredients thing is still going really well. I continue to try new recipes, and Dennis is patiently going along with it. I know it's gotta sound crazy, but I have found that I love the mindless monotony of chopping vegetables. Isn't that ridiculous? But I'm being serious! I get so excited when I've got an entire meal that's cooked and I realize that I chopped every little carrot and potato and bell pepper.

It's the little things, ya know?

Mama Kat occasionally does a feature on her blog called something to the effect of "What's for Dinner?" where she has pictures and/or video of the ingredients she uses and how to make a certain recipe.

I'm pretty seriously contemplating a food-themed week coming up soon here with some ideas for healthy yet delicious cooking based on some of the recipes we've tried and loved, and some of the ways we're saving money on the good stuff. And, of course I'll have a couple giveaways to go along with all of my sage advice. Ha ha ha.

And, that's probably enough for now. This is why I shouldn't go 2 weeks without posting - I get diarrhea of the mouth and can't shut up. So, if you're still reading, do what Kaylee does when she coughs, and pat yourself on the back. You deserve it.

Living with priorities and without regrets

I've had a significant amount of time off from work this month (not by choice), and while it made me apprehensive at first due to the fact that I'd be wondering how we might make ends meet, I am now SO grateful for it. And wouldn't you know...I was able to get extra shifts and we'll be just fine.

I haven't been blogging as much lately because I'm trying to keep my priorities in line. Writing is something I'll always need to do. I have to get things out, and I want to be able to look back on all my posts someday to remember all the little things that may otherwise be forgotten. Part of me feeling peaceful about where my priorities are has meant less time on the computer, less time reading blogs, less time blogging, less time commenting. And while I felt some guilt about that initially, I decided to just get over it.

Right now, I've got no regrets about how I spend my time. I'm playing with my daughter, taking her out on errands with me, teaching her things, learning things from her, making time to exercise and to - (are you sitting down?) cook healthy, wholesome foods for my family. We're talking fresh fruits and veggies, high protein, low fat, limited processed stuff and recipes we've never tried before. I know. What has come over me? I now spend more time reading books than I do on the computer, and that is one change that I am so glad I made. I've already finished 4 books this month, and I hope to finish one more by the end of the month.

Kaylee is just more of a sponge every single day, and she's cracking us up so much. From asking us, "What happedid?" during a commercial on one of her shows, or during the very short break between songs on a CD, to blaming her own farts on Dennis, we are just loving this stage of being parents. And yes, she seriously blamed a fart on Dennis. How can a child who is not even two yet even know that's an option? She farted the other day and then said, "Daddy FART!" and started laughing.

She now sings her ABCs up to the letter K, knows her colors, and counts to 9 (I know, budding Baby Genius over here).

My parents were incredible teachers to us growing up. They took every opportunity to help us learn about ourselves and the world around us. It just really instilled a love of learning in me, and I've always looked forward to the time when I could pass that on to my own children, and now I'm seeing the results of it.

I feel like this time - right now - is what I envisioned when I pictured motherhood. This interaction, this bonding, and the joy and laughter she brings to us (coupled with, of course, an overwhelming sense to protect her, to worry about her, and to be overcome by frustration with her, at times) - this is what I wanted. At the beginning, I just didn't realize it might take so much time to get here.

Of course there have been good moments at all the stages of her life, but it was so hard for me to just relax and enjoy things for such a long a time at the beginning. There was a mean, nasty adjustment period I hadn't counted on. I didn't realize that, at first, there would be so little sleep and so much stress. I expected so many fun times right away, but that's not how it works.

And what I didn't realize is this time - right now - is like the ultimate prize for surviving the first few months.

This little piggy went to market, this little piggy went home, and this little piggy went to gym class and became a mean old stealer of parking spaces

It's true. It's really true. Today I stole someone's parking space at the gym. Go ahead and unfollow my blog - I'm a terrible person. This much I know.

We were running late. I hate being late to class. I don't want to miss a minute of the cardio portion of the class, and if I didn't get my butt into class pronto, there would be calories that would never have the opportunity to burn. So sad. Plus, there are never any spots in the far, far away parking lot, waaaay in the back of the gym. It was cold. I had to unload all the crap from the car and then buckle my kid into the stroller. The task before me was not an easy one.

The spot was RIGHT in front of the entrance. As I turned on to the street, I saw the sporty red car backing out, making room for me to park - allowing me to get to class on time. Hallelujah! Had I strained my ears a bit closer to heaven, I am pretty sure I'd have heard the angels singing. A spot at the entrance?!? On a day when I'm LATE? Be still my heart!

Of course, in my mind, as soon as the sporty red car backed out, I staked my claim on that spot. It would be mine!

But, to my dismay, as I approached that stinking gorgeous parking space, I noticed The Red Jeep.

Poor, poor, victimized Red Jeep.

The Red Jeep had its blinker on. A blinker which happened to not only be pointing in the direction of the entrance to the parking lot, but that also happened to be pointing in the direction of my parking space, sent to me straight from the heavenly angels up above. How would I know where she really mean to turn? I pretended she meant to turn into the parking lot and not into the space.

So, I had about 4 seconds to solve my moral dilemma of the century. Do I politely keep driving ahead and let The Red Jeep have the spot, or do I decide to be a mean old selfish hag and take the spot for myself?

Well, to be honest with you, I am not familiar with what it feels like to be a mean old selfish hag, and I thought - What the heck? Today's as good a day as any, right? I wanted to try it out. So I did something I've never before done in my life...I took the spot. For myself. The spot that was clearly not mine because it had a big, fat tag on it that said: This spot belongs to The Red Jeep.

My good old Lutheran guilt got to me a bit, but I tried to tell myself it was no big deal, and I watched as The Red Jeep circled the parking lot.

"Oh, CRAP! Please don't let it be one of the moms in my class!!!" I hoped and prayed.

About 5.6 seconds later, I found out it was most definitely not one of the moms from my class.

I was strapping Kaylee into her stroller as fast as my little fingers could get her in there, hoping against all hope that I could get inside before The Red Jeep lady exited her vehicle. There was no way I was making eye contact if I could help it. I may have been a mean old selfish hag, but I was still ashamed and embarrassed.

All of a sudden, I hear a voice. A voice that is addressing me. The voice from The Red Jeep. Dang it.

She says, "That was really RUDE of you take my space."

Well, reeeer! I felt like saying, "Oh yeah? I didn't see your name on it!" and sticking my tongue out at her. Please - I spend my days with a toddler. Regression is bound to happen at some point. But worry not, I didn't say it, and I didn't even stick my tongue out.

So instead, I sincerely said, "I'm sorry." And then - before I knew it, the words were out of my mouth...

I said sarcastically, "Well, I can pack my kid up in the car and move so you can have it back."

Goodness, me. Where did that come from? From sincere to sarcastic in 2 seconds flat. That's me, people. That's me.

...Me who waits for eons for the old people to scoot across the crosswalk at Wal-Mart.

...Me who will let one or two cars go when no one ahead of me has.

...Me who drives defensively and takes great pride in my safe driver discount.

...Me who has never had a speeding ticket or moving violation in my LIFE.

...Me who is a polite and courteous driver (and by polite and courteous I mean that I don't flip people off. Do I occasionally utter swear words when they cut me off in traffic? Yes, ma'am. But the windows are up, so give me a break).

And just in case I didn't hear her the first time, she took one more opportunity to whine at me about how rude I was and then drove off angrily.

Seriously, I am usually so nice and would never do such a thing - steal a parking space OR smart off like that. To complete and total stranger no less.

But, the woman pissed me off. She actually blocked traffic behind her (preventing anyone else from stealing any other parking spots, I'm sure. What a killjoy!) so that she could stop and inform me that I was rude.

Dude, I know I was rude. I'm nice to strangers 98.6% of the time. I know what I did was wrong. I apologized. Pull up your big girl panties and go find another frickin' parking spot. It is what it is.

Will I steal another parking space? Probably not.

At first, when I thought about it, I considered how fun it was to get chewed out in public and I decided it would probably be awesome if I made a daily habit out of stealing parking spaces.

I'd be like, "What's that, Kaylee? You're tired of Barney and you want to go steal things? I've got just the ticket! Let's go steal parking spaces for the next 3 hours! YES!"

But, just as anyone should do before taking up a new hobby, I decided to google it.

But, after what I found, I'm not sure I should tempt fate, lest my luck run out and eventually I end up like this poor guy - stabbed in the chest with an ice pick for stealing a parking space, or like this poor girl who got knifed in the head, shoulder and arms after she got in a fight with another chick over a parking space.

I guess I'm done trying out this whole mean old selfish hag gig. It's not worth an ice pick to the chest.

Because those terrible, horrible, no good, very bad days of early motherhood eventually become a thing of the past, just like sleep and your sanity.

When Kaylee was 2 weeks old or 2 months old, or heck - even 6 months old...when I was knee deep in my, "Really? I thought I could do this? I actually thought I was cut out to be a mom? When will I ever sleep again? I will never be able to function as a normal adult again - EVER." days...

...I wish back then I'd had a video clip of the future - a video clip of tonight - to play for myself on those early days that were filled with so much frustration. Those days when I couldn't look at Dennis without snapping something mean back at him, even if he hadn't said anything.

Tonight - I sat back and watched as my baby played with my mom and my dad. I just sat there and took it all in and watched in amazement at where we are at in our lives now.

I just welled up with pride at the things she's doing - talking in these cute little toddler sentences, pushing her dolls all over the house in a cardboard box, telling them, "Ready? Set? GO!" and then "All done!" when she's tired, putting together puzzles and coloring and painting, and showing affection - actually asking for hugs and "noses" (Eskimo kisses).

My once helpless skinny mini baby who just gurgled, smiled, ate, farted and crapped her pants all day is turning into this tiny little person with an extremely strong personality who occasionally makes an angry face at me while yelling garbled words that I can only guess to be some form of toddler profanity invented by another baby genius somewhere else in the world who passed it on to toddlers everywhere. Maybe they learn these toddler swear words (i.e. "MamaYOWado-doYOWnabuggaYOW!") by playing their Elmo DVD's backwards or something when we're not looking. I have no idea.

Anyway - to get back to my point - a night like tonight would have been a light at the end of the tunnel for me during those first few months when I battled the worst part of my depression. Maybe if I'd been able to see what it would be like - what our life would turn into - maybe if I'd seen that someday I would get the sparkle back in my eyes and I would experience joy and pride and contentment, that I would be able to laugh again - maybe it would have been a little easier.

Maybe I would have actually believed that it really would get better.

But, I didn't have a snapshot of my future, and I still turned out okay. And so did my kiddo.

Because, as hard as that time was, it ended.

The really, really horrendously sleepless nights and constant crankiness and persistent funk ended.

And if that's where you're at, yours will end, too. You'll reach a day where you look back, and the hard times won't seem quite so harsh. And it will be because you're strong and you're going to make it through. Even though it seems like the struggles of life right after a baby will never get better, they can - and they will.

Eventually, you'll be able to sleep again, you'll be able to laugh and to feel like yourself. There are different ways of getting to that place, but if you're willing to do what you need to do to take care of yourself, you'll get there.

And once you do, you'll wake up the next morning to pick Ranch dressing out of your kid's hair from the night before, but only after you stub your toe on a spare Mr. Potato head ear, arm, or hat. Then you'll proceed to eat a breakfast consisting of either Cheerios that went soggy because your kid took a monster dump right after you poured the milk, or once-delectable-looking scrambled eggs that are now cold because there was a toddler breakdown when the extremely overplayed Barney DVD began to skip.

You will then walk to the bathroom, and you'll imagine how amazing a 25 minute shower would be. You'll skip the shower because - well, who are we kidding? Do you really need an excuse to skip a shower? (You're a mom now - put in a headband and a ponytail and call it good.) You'll count to 10 v-e-r-y slowly, and then you'll jump right back into the chaos.

Because you are someone's mom. And even though it may not seem like what you signed up for in the first place, in so many ways, it's turned out to be even better.