Hard Hat Zone -Under Constructon...

Hard Hat Zone

Under Construction

Sooo ok... I was toying with the idea of letting this blog rest in peace. Then I toyed with the idea of moving said blog, trying WordPress which I know many blogs I currently read use.

Sooo.... ok... for now... I will remodel... because there are times in life where I honestly see change as a good thing. Like I know sometimes, I just get this urge to get a hair cut. Honestly, it's an URGE. Like really... I kid you not. And I will then randomly come home... and my dear hubs will find my hair chopped off.

Likewise... this blog needs to be redone. Considering when I tried my hand at HTML the last time, I made an error. I think I can honestly do better. PLUS... I like this picture. It kinda is a bit more... I dunno... ME.

Soooooooooooo.... I will give this another go. I personally like this background... I just don't like the fact that I can't get any comments anymore. Not like I had a bunch to begin with... but hey.. I liked that I had an option.

Anywhoo... bear with me... and we'll see what comes up as a result of this change.

Doomed...

Yes I'm doomed... I have a sign on my back...

Whatever... I hate when a perfect day gets ruined by a single phone call at night. Blast it all...

Yippee!!!

So it took a little less than 2 months for me to get back to my normal size after giving birth to my son.

But REJOICE!!! I'm not only back to wearing SMALLs again, I'm back to wearing my favorite pair of jeans!

Today at the store I find a cute little pair of skorts (shorts underneath but it looks and has the appearance of a skirt) size 4. I was originally looking for a pair of size 6 but sad to say they had none. That infamous lightbulb then hit me. I was wearing a pair of size 6 jeans that happened to be really and I mean REALLY loose. Sooooo I decide to try on the size 4. And voila! They fit!!!!! And comfortably too.

Now my favorite pair of jeans, I hadn't been able to fit into since I was like 2 months pregnant. I got home and thought to myself... might as well give THEM a try. Hahahaha they fit too! Size 5 in juniors. My favorite. And they fit again!

REJOICE!

I Apparently Almost Died???

I've been sick.

Like for this past week, I've done nothing much but be in bed -sick. I hate that kind of sick.

Anyhow, so last weekend starts. Starts off to be a nice one with my family. But for some odd reason I did a LOT and I mean a LOT of sleeping. My husband kept looking at me like a sloth. I'd glare at him. Leave him with the baby. Roll over and commence my sleeping. I'm a very good sleeper.

Until 2 pm hit and I was still tired and sleeping. Ah, the infamous light bulb! we all realized I was not feeling well. Sunday... Mother's day... MY day... I started to have difficulty swallowing. Not good. But I have come to realize this as a normal sign (unfortunately).

Cue the fade out into memory-ville.

You see, I was born with tonsillitis. While pregnant with me, my mom's tonsils got badly infected. She in fact, had to have them removed after giving birth to me. Hence, from day 1, my tonsils have literally been swollen. I grew up with doctors contemplating removing them. "But she's so young," they'd all say and I'd end up with antibiotics to take. It ended up being an annoying cycle that during my teenage years I said, "Screw it! They're not going to do a thing about it besides give me more antibiotics."

So my tonsils were infected... AGAIN... Come Tuesday I felt sick to the point that I actually go to the doctor's. Light-headed, dizzy, can't swallow a thing, can't talk. There, the nurse jams a Q-tip down my throat and literally blocks my air passage. THAT IS HOW BADLY SWOLLEN THESE BEASTS ARE. Stupid Q-tip blocks my oxygen.

Well... they refer me to an ENT (Ear, Nose, Throat) doctor who will discuss getting them OUT. And proceed to give me three injections. One a very potent penicillin, which feels like glue was being injected into me. One was a pain killer. And the third was an antibiotic.

Now I'm not squeamish. I handle needles and shots very well. But after all that crap, I got SO dizzy the nursing staff had me laying down and called Jon to pick me up. Even after I told them all I was FINE. They refused to let me do much of anything.

Well an hour or two later I'm no longer dizzy and those injections actually worked to the point that I was able to swallow my own spit without any pain. Yay! (But those injections were so freakin thick my hips hurt for like 4 days after that! I felt like an old woman. Sigh.)

So I think I'm on the verge of recovery. The next day I was even able to move about without dizziness or lightheaded-ness. But it was a TEASE! A TEASE I say!

Because on Thursday... Thursday was apparently my almost death day. I don't know what happened but I got worse.

I remember dragging myself out of bed to change the baby. Dragging myself to feed the baby. It was 75 degrees in the house and I felt like it was cold. Of course I realized I had a fever. Which sucked because my son kept trying to get my attention. All I know is, it was around 4:30 (because this show I watch always comes on at 4:30)... I fed the baby and set him down for his nap besides me. Even to this day he loves getting swaddled, so I swaddled him. (Also keeps him from rolling while he's sleeping I tell you what!) And I lay down too.

Now the next bit of stuff is well pretty much secondhand... I don't recall... well... like 99% of it.

Jon comes home about 5: 30 and hears the baby crying as loud as he could. Considering the baby is right next me, I wasn't moving an inch.

Jon says my name. No response. He says my name again. Still no response. He calls my name one more time. Nothing. Well he said he started shouting my name and got nothing out of me. He runs to my side of the bed and grabs me and I finally react but was totally incoherent and pathetically lethargic. He said I was burning up. He jammed a thermometer in my mouth and it read 102.7 degrees. Loverly isn't it? He said he forced me to take some fever reducers and then tried to have me drink more water but I kept refusing the water. He said he was on the verge of panic.

He then literally carries me into the bathroom (now this I do remember) and tries to get me into a tub of cold water where I screamed over and over while crying, "It's COLD! It's COLD!" Jon later told me that the water was really lukewarm but to me it felt ice cold. And I wasn't just crying but I was bawling like a little baby. I apparently was having none of that either. He then carries me to the bedroom and I pretty much pass out. He said he checked my temperature again though and it kept dropping after whatever he did.

All I know is I woke up around 10 pm that night the baby was already snug as a bug in his crib and Jon jumped to alert when he heard me moving. I was thankfully more coherent that time albeit exhausted and still not well.

But I'll remember this because Jon then says to me, "Don't ever scare me like that again! I thought you DIED. The baby was wailing and you didn't hear him. I was SHOUTING your name and you didn't... I was panicking, thinking I might have to take you to the ER, or I might have to give you an emergency tracheotomy. I kept checking your tonsils to make sure you could breathe. You wouldn't hydrate yourself, you wouldn't go in the tub. You looked like you were dead! I had to put my hand on your chest to see if you were still breathing... I thought I lost you."

I'm ok now. No more fever here, thank goodness. And I love my husband.

P.S. Damn tonsils!

I Figured It Was Time For a Change...

Soo... we'll see how this goes... I don't really care for pink stars too much... but hey... I didn't have that much of a choice...

I Kill Trees...

Now I don't go around wasting paper or any shiz like that. But I have come to realize... I still unfortunately kill trees. Poor, poor trees.

My son can poop once and I'll have to use how many wipes on his dirty litte butt. And I'll go through a whole containing of wipes without blinking an eye. Poor, poor trees.

Tissues too! Here's this snotty, drooling baby and a box of tissues will disappear as fast as you can say, "Crikey".

Sorry trees! But as a mom which should I care for more??? My son's butt? Or the amount of wipes I'm going through? It'll be his butt. It's only going to be baby soft for a short time in his life. So I say let him enjoy a smooth butt without rashes.

I promise to make sure my son plants a few seeds when he's old enough to realize that the seed goes in the ground and not in his mouth. (I would like to avoid any and all choking incidents as possible...) So you'll have to wait a few years.

My Very First Auction...

Well... as the title reads, I went to my very first auction ever. Our church youth had a benefit auction so they can go to a camp in Colorado. A bunch of the members donated things, gift baskets, food and what not and invited the town to an auction annnnnnnnnnd I went.

As I arrived I was given luckly number 7 to make my purchases. They had asked this guy to be the auctioneer... they all said he was a pro at it. At first I thought they were all insane because when he was telling the crowd who he was he was talking soooooooooo slow, I could barely stay awake. But when he started the auction he then started talking so fast I could barely keep up.

Now what did I get away with???

Well...........

I got an applie pie. It was good stuff. I also got a few dishes including a 16 piece set decorated for Christmas.

Now... the most interesting things I got were as follows:

This 1950's Kodak Brownie Hawkeye Flash Camera with Flash for it's original purchase price of $1. Hahahahaha. Go me. I guess another man's junk is another person's treasure. I also got this really cool picinic basket with picnic blanket, tarp and silverware inside. And I got a framed copy of a signed picture of Babe Ruth (which my husband gave away to this kid who desperately wanted it but couldn't afford squat and looked longingly at the stupid thing... I'm annoyed at him because we just purchased the darn thing though at the same time I'm deeply impressed and moved with his generousity... those two emotions are warring with each other at the moment)........ and last but oh definitely not least... I got 7... hahaha lucky number 7 again... 7 girls.

Now before anyone goes freakin out! The church isn't selling slaves or girls for bad reasons or nothing... no... the youth were raising the money... therefore they were also offering certain services such as BABYSITTING, HOUSE CHORES, WASHING THE CAR, GARDENING/MOWING THE LAWN, and CLEANING. Each said they would do work for 4 hours and that was auctioned off.

Well... seeing as I have gotten to know quite a few of these girls... and seeing as these said girls adore my son... and seeing as I don't get to spend much time with Jon... and seeing as my family is all in Southern California... we got ourselves some babysitters. :)

So... for my very first auction... it was great... :)

I Hate Pacifiers...

Yes, it's really all in the title.


I hate, abhor, detest pacifiers.


Who ever came up with the word "binky" for a freakin' pacifier anyway??? I have never called a pacifier a "binky" and to be honest I refuse to. It's almost a pet peeve when I hear people say, "Do you want your 'binky'?" No. It's a pacifier. Pa-ci-fi-errrrrrrrrrr. When I hear "binky", it's like when my nieces were first learning to talk and that's what they called their "blanket" because they couldn't pronounce "blanket" so instead referred to it as "binky". Not pacifier.

If people want me to shorten the word "pacifier" or abbreviate it in anyway, (because you know four syllables is definitely waaaaaaaaaaaaay too long apparently) I'll say "paci". Why? Because it's a PACIFIER. You use it to PACIFY a baby. I don't give a "binky" to my child to "bink" him in any way shape or form.


Now, back to why I hate this tiny plastic object. "Babies have a natural sucking reflex when they are born." You are correct, sir! Buuuuuuut... babies are ALSO creatures of habit and do NOT like change. I mean -at al. Nada. Zip. Zero. Zilch.


So here is this baby. A creature of absolute comfort. And his "pacifier" brings him lots of comfort. I mean oodles and oodles of comfort. Awww. Sweetness. Now... try to take that pacifier away... and that sweetness automatically turns... well... sour.


And I fully blame the Soothie pacifiers. As much as I hate it, I acknowledge that it is the best freakin' pacifier ever. Why? Well, that was the pacifier they gave him at the hospital he was born in. It's like the epitome of pacifiers that doctors and nurses nation wide swear by it and parents have to then buy it because their kids want it. So when we got home, he refused ALL other pacifiers and only accepted the Soothie one. Well, I had no clue that I could buy those pacifiers at Wal-mart. So here I was thinking this was the only pacifier he would take and I had no clue where to get more. Now what happens? He loses it. Seeing as I had no clue where to buy more, I order it online and have it expressed to the house. For those 2 days, my son threw a perpetual fit, refusing any other pacifier, wanting only that stupid Soothie one. Then the very day they arrived, I find out they sold it at Wal-mart. Go figure.

But honestly... a pacifier for a baby can be like crack to an adult. It's baby crack. Why???? It can be soooooooooooooooooooooo darn addictive! My son refuses to go to sleep without it. Try putting him down for a nap without his Soothie pacifier. Damn that pacifier, it had to be sooo good. He'll thrash and thrash and search and search. I mean with the pacifier, he'll fall asleep within 15 minutes. Without the pacifier it'll take at least a full hour of hearing him cry until he is so exhausted he finally just falls asleep. Soooooooooooo, to try and break the habit of the pacifier aka "baby crack" we had to go cold turkey.

All I have to say is this. Damn that pacifier and damn you Soothie!!!

He Gets His Revenge...

My son ALWAYS gets his revenge.

I could have him do tummy time** for 15 minutes. (And he absolutely HATES tummy time with a capitol "H".) Then I will pick him up to soothe and comfort him and what? He throws up on me.

I could leave him alone for a minute to prepare a bottle that he's been HOWLING for. And when I present it to him he'll refuse it for a good 10 minutes.

I could give him a bath, get him powdered, lotioned and wiped down so he's all clean and smells nice. He'll then have a poopie diaper and spit up on his clean clothes.

Today however... I was trying to clip his tiny little nails. He's such a fidgety thing I have difficulty doing it and dislike it almost to the point of disliking clipping a kitten's sharp claws. Almost but not quite there... yet.

Why? Because of the fact that he refuses to hold still for a period longer than 5 seconds... unless he's sleeping... I have to hold his arm down and grasp his tiny little hand firmly so I can clip his little claws... -ah I mean... nails... clip his sharp little nails. And what does my stubborn hippo do???

He grabs and pulls my hair... then pulls me close. And sneezes... not once... but twice... one after another right in my face.

Oh... the joys of motherhood.

**For those of you who don't know... or simply can't get the meaning out of the words... "tummy time" is an exercise for infants where the parent places the child on his stomach to strengthen his neck, shoulder, and hip muscles, not to mention a few others but mainly those.

There's a BABY in the CAR... but Now My Son Has Fundage...

So yeah, I probably should start at the beginning... Unlike when I called my best friend up thinking I had already told her the story from the very beginning... yeah my memory totally went astray as soon as the kiddo arrived and still has yet to return to me... If anyone finds it please let me know...

But I digress. Where was I? Right. See? The memory thing again. Anyway, I called my best friend up and left a message on her voice mail saying, "Hey, Caden and I are fine from the accident, so no worries. EMTs said he was good to go." Well she calls me the next day and I'm all talking to her as if she already knew what was going on. Poor thing, my befuddled mind befuddled her. All she could say was, "What?!"

So... as I was going to do... let me start at the beginning.

I was in California with the baby, right? Right. Mmm'kay moving on. Well my folks were dropping off said baby and I to the airport so we could get home to my dearly devoted husband. It was raining pretty heavily for Southern California. (Suprising I know, but Southern California does on occassion get bad weather.) It was also 5:30 in the morning, we had a 6:30 flight and I had already checked in the night before so I had my boarding passes and everything and was pretty much ready and good to go.

Well, right as my dad was stopped at a light RIGHT OUTSIDE THE AIRPORT, this woman rams us from behind. I was looking at my son at the time the impact happened, thank God he was safe and sound and barely moved unlike the rest of us in the car who unfortunately enjoyed the fun of whiplash. He was all snuggled in his snowsuit (ready for the flight and weather upon arriving at our destination) and tucked in his carrier carseat. (I LOVE CARSEATS! THOSE FIVE POINT HARNESSES ARE AWESOME! Parents who don't use carseats are freakin' morons.)

Now as I said, it was 5:30 in the freakin' morning. We were set to go home. And this woman happened to be rushing to catch her 6 am flight. While it was raining. And no she didn't check-in in advance. Yeah.... first thing I could say after impact was, "THERE'S A BABY IN THE CAR!"

My dad openned his door and repeated, "THERE'S A BABY IN THE CAR!"

The woman acknowledged and said she'd follow us. Upon parking, directly in front of my terminal mind you, my mother opens her door and repeats for the third time, "THERE'S A BABY IN THE CAR!"

Lesson 1. You shouldn't be rushing in the rain.
Lesson 2. You shouldn't be trying to catch a 6 am flight at 5:30 in the morning.
Lesson 3. THERE'S A BABY IN THE FRIGGIN' CAR.

The police were called. The EMTs checked out my son. He was ok. Happy-go-lucky. Just sleepy because his nap was interrupted by the accident when the sound of metal hitting metal woke him up and jerked his little head. But my son was still a trooper. Of course the police were super nice to us. I mean there was a baby in the car. Not so much to that woman though. She missed her flight altogether. Big surprise there.

Caden and I however, had police escort through security. Yeah, different eh? The police informed Continental that we were just in an accident. So what did Continental do? Bless them. The check-in guy himself went to my gate and told them my situation. Met me at security and carried all my stuff for me on to the plane. They had already started paging us as the last passengers for "final boarding call" and what not, but they still held departure back about 10 minutes so the baby and I could board the plane. Of course we were the last ones on the plane, and everyone was apparently waiting on us seeing as the captain made it known that they were waiting for the final passengers (sarcastic thanks!) and I was soooo embarrassed that I apologized to the people who were seated around me saying we were just in an accident right outside the airport. That woman did not even get an ounce of the same courtesy.

Well after that, it was all ok. I had a headache after awhile though. Not surprising since I was also flying across country with an infant. My mom's neck hurt some. My dad I think was too preoccupied with how everyone else was doing that he seemed fine at the time and even after too.

So in the end, my son got his settlement. Though I'd honestly prefer we had not gotten into that accident at all. I am pleased my son got some fundage out of it. We also decided to take his piggy bank to the bank too. Tiny little piggy bank. Only about 4 inches tall and 3 inches wide and 3 inches long. But it was full of change. I didn't realize how much change was in that tiny little thing. Sixty-four bucks in a tiny little piggy bank. Honestly, storing up change goes a long way apparently, considering we gave him all our spare coins.

Now my son has a bank account, but I won't be telling him about it until he's 18. Let him work for his money first. *^_^*

So at the tender age of 3 months old my son has apparently experienced quite a bit, maybe even more than some people in their twenties. He's had his first vacation at the age of 2 months. Enjoyed two trips to San Diego. Flown in 4 different airplanes. Gotten in his first and hopefully only (knocks on wood) car accident and lived to not remember a single thing it considering he's still a baby and all. And received mulah from said accident. It's almost a shame he won't remember a single thing.

Random PS of sorts - My best friend called a week after I talked to her about my random and awkward way of leaving behind only half a message and said she just got into an accident. Some idiot ran a stop sign and totaled her car. T-boned it on the passenger side. She's ok. Was a little banged up and had a big bruise on her knee from where the passenger door was push all the way in through impact. Happy she had no passenger for the moron to mash but yeah. She's fine.

Speaking of the cars though. My parents vehicle got an impressive dent on the back bumper. I didn't realize how safe a Honda Accord was. While that woman's vehicle was pretty much totaled with her hood bent like an accordian and her motor exposed to the rain. Serves some people right.

Honestly, some people should not get behind the wheel. What if there was a baby in the car???

A Picture Says A Thousand Words...

Eh... it's something to do... and it takes my mind off other things... plus it's kinda just cool to look at...

the RULES:
- Answer the questions below
- Take each answer and search image on Photobucket
- Take any picture from the first page of results and post
- And you can't copy the persons answers who posted this before you

1. What is your name? I can't believe I found this...



2. Name the age you'll be on your next birthday. I also happen to like the show...


3. Name a place you'd like to travel to.

4. What is your favorite place to be?

5. What is your favorite object?


6. What is your favorite food? I'm getting hungry just looking at this picture...



7. What is your favorite color? Blue all the way...




8. What is your favorite animal? I want one...


9. What is your favorite activity? 'Nuff said...





10. Where were you born?

11. Where do you want to retire? Just someplace nice...



12. What is the name of a pet? They are...

and



13. What is your relationship status?



14. What is the name of your significant other?


15. What is a bad habit of yours?


16. What is the name of your best friend?



17. What are your plans for the weekend?



18. What is a goal you'd like to achieve in the next year?




19. What is your biggest fear?


20. Describe yourself in one word. I typed "random" and this came up... I say it fits...

Random Update of Randomness...

So more trains of thought...


Train 1 right now is carrying the thought, "I hate the common cold." Here's a squirming little bundle of joy with a stuffed up nose and the ONLY thing I can do is suck that mucus out.


I really wish babies were born knowing how to blow their noses. Instead I have come to realize that sucking it back in, is the only thing they instinctually know how to do when it comes to a stuffed up nose. Which of course is the opposite of what you want, because what better way to get well than to get that gunk out of your body and out of your system?


Therefore this cheerful mom gets to wrestle with the squirming bundle of joy that is human flesh, to try and get him to cooperate, so she can either spray or drop saline fluid into his nose softening the mucus and wetting his little nose. Then after dealing with the saline, this mom now has to use this bulb-like nose aspirator and suck that saline fluid back out, hoping that as she suctions that saline out, out will come mucus as well. All the while the little bundle of joy is squirming and fighting and growing to realize that when mom does something in one nostril, she'll try for the other one next.


Fie! Fie! On the cold...


Train 2 carries the thought, "California here I come!"


It's not that I miss California. I really don't. I still prefer where I'm at to Southern California any day. But during the pregnancy and even more AFTER, I realized how much I miss my family there as well as my friends.


So here I am on my way, toting said little bundle of joy, so he can meet the people that I so very much miss.


So I'm excited but at the same time, I'm bummed because my husband won't be able to go with us. It unfortunately still keeps me struggling with my postpartum. Here I am going to be surrounded by people who will be able to help me, but the most important person in my life will unable to be there.


Train 3 -"So many new mom's carry self-guilt."


Really, it's true. Afer talking to how many moms about my own postpartum I think I came to a reasonable theory. When a woman becomes a new mom, it's like she is expected (maybe by others or maybe by her own self) to be nothing but mom. It's almost like a woman loses her personal identity and henceforth becomes known as "Mom".

Then when a new mom wants to do something for herself, something she used to love doing, she then feels guilt that it's not about the baby. Other moms I've talked to said they felt guilty because they worked after a couple of months. Other moms felt guilty that they wanted to take a bath every now and then as a way to just relax.

Well... all I have to say to that is this: Just because a woman becomes a mother doesn't mean she loses who was in the first place. She just added another role to her life.

Train 4 is a happy train! I've gone back to my normal size!

That is right! I am proudly and happily wearing my old clothes again... only took about 7-8 weeks. But hey... it happened. :)

Starting Off 2008 With a War Against a New Mom's Arch Nemesis...-The Common Cold...

Darn you Cold Virus! From the first instant I heard that tiny little sniffle come out of that tiny little nose, I knew. I knew that there would be a really tough battle ahead against an army of billions and billions of germs. I knew that I would be in for sleepless nights and days constantly surrounded by mucus.

I bought a warm steam humidifier (not a cold steam one because it creates moldy bacteria, not a hot one because it does the same thing and can cause burns and what not... but a warm one). I find myself using saline drops over and over and over, and suctioning the muscus and whatever gunk with a nasal aspirator out of a 2 month old's little nose. That in itself is a hard and arduous battle. Who ever thought that a tiny little baby would have so much snot in him?

Now, my son is sick with his second cold in his short little life, and I find that I too am sick (again) because of the fact that my son is sick (again)! Darn you Cold Virus!

Little babies are needy, clingy, little things when they get sick! And to top it off... he was just getting a nice little sleep schedule going where he actually would sleep through the night... and NOW! Because he's sick! He won't sleep at all! I find myself giving him a tiny bit of children's Benadryl just so he can get the sleep and rest he needs.

Darn you Cold Virus! You think you have won... just wait til his immune system gets stronger. Just wait til winter is over. This new mom may be frustrated, may be sleep deprived, may be exhausted, but it's nothing some Vicks Vaporub, a box of kleenex, some vitamin C, and a mixture of drugs like sudafed, dayquil, and midol can't cure!

My son will conquer your army of germs too! Just you wait... there will come a day when he isn't sniffling or coughing... there will come a day!

Daylight Savings...

As much as I get to enjoy the times we Fall Back... I simply hate the moments we Spring Forward.

So someone tell me please... what is the purpose of Daylight Savings???

Half the world doesn't use it. We didn't always use it. Heck two out of the 50 states don't use it. And it does nothing but mess with our internal clocks. A pox on daylight savings... a pox I say.

Random Challenge for the Day...

I dare you all... try moving all your junk an hour and a half away while you are 8 months pregnant...

Then and only then... do you know how I feel...