Proof life isn't fair

1.   A single glazed donut = 7 points

2.  Chili's chicken bacon ranch quesadilla = 42 points

3. 12 oz cup of sweet tea = 4 points

4.  2 tbsp of ranch dressing = 4 points

5.  Their idea of a treat for Halloween = 2 assorted pieces of any type chocolate candy and 1 oz of candy corn.

6.  Now that I know these things, I'll never be able to enjoy eating the same again.

If you've never had to pay attention to these kinds of things...  Enjoy it. Ignorance is bliss. 

Also I dislike you.

Ramblings about the good ole days. You know... Like 3 months ago.

I was reading another blog and it made me think about the hospital stay and those first few weeks after Piper was born.  I had a c-section and I was completely terrified of the whole thing.  I told Dr. Helmken I wasn't concerned for our safety - I trusted she knew what she was doing.  No, it was the idea of being awake while they are cutting you open and moving things around inside of you.   Turns out, at least for this particular c-section, it was no big deal.  In fact, it was downright relaxing if you wanna know the truth.   The whole experience is one of THE favorite memories of my life.  One of the few bad memories of the experience came from having to be on a magnesium drip for my blood pressure.  It made me feel flu-ish and extremely loopy.  So much so that we had to have Piper taken to the nursery the first night.  I hate that memory.   It makes me want to go wake her up and kiss her.  

But then the second day came and they were able to take me off that medicine and my head cleared.  Everybody went home and left me and Carey to take care of this sweet, round headed, laid back little baby and I panicked.   I still feel it when I think about it.  I could not believe that I was the one who was left to make sure she was taken care of.    What I remember the clearest from that night was that I actually decided that I just wouldn't sleep that night.  I was too afraid that she'd spit up and choke and die.  She cried and gagged and projectile spit up a couple times and all I could do was stand and cry when she did it because it made me feel like my fears were not ridiculous.  Carey would wake up and have to calm me down before I could even think to put her down and clean myself up.   I would hate to be able to see myself through Carey's memories of me.   I did finally sleep about an hour around 5am but was quickly woken up by the nurse coming to check on us.   Stupid nurse.  Actually they were pretty awesome.  One of the best parts of the hospital stay.

Anyway, we got home and I was so glad to be at home where things were comfortable and quiet.   Carey is an expert at setting things up for someone who's just had surgery.  He had pillows propped in such a way that it didn't even hurt to get out of bed.  In fact, I don't remember much pain at all from the surgery.   Mama would come and sit up with Pipes for a couple hours so that we could go in our room, shut the door and sleep.  It's amazing how 2 hours of solid sleeping can suddenly feel like 12.   Eventually though, I had to start doing it without mama and Carey's constant help and supervision.   I would sit up at night feeding her and think over and over "Is this my life now?"    There would be times when she would just cry and would be inconsolable and even when we found out it was due in large part to the acid reflux, it didn't make things any easier in knowing how to help her.    I knew at the time and I sure know now that what I thought was a very fussy baby was actually just a normal baby.   The doctors kept telling me "Just wait til she hits 3 months. All this will pass".  So I'd tell myself over and over "just a few more weeks"...  It's a shame.   I wish I could slap my past self for even thinking that. 

 It's funny how something that feels so big and permanent can suddenly just stop and a new "big and permanent" takes over.   And then you don't even remember what it was like before.   You look at pictures and watch home videos and wish you had enjoyed the moment even more.

Boogers.

I don't know.  It was too serious. 

I tell no lies

So we have a routine established at our house.   We've never had a routine before.   Not even a tiny bit of one.   But now Piper's here and the almighty Mom's On Call told me I needed a routine and I obeyed.   Shocker but it's working.  It's working really well.    As in, the Pipes hardly fusses at all.  And she's super "independent".  Not sure if a baby is ever independent but what I mean is... she lays or sits wherever I put her and plays right by herself until nap time. That's like 1 1/2 to 2 hours of playing.   I'm not bragging...  Piper's just awesome is all.   Fact.          

Anyway, at the end of the day some days, I'm almost sad when 7 rolls around and she's wanting to go to bed because I feel like we haven't played with her all day.   So Carey and I have started laying down on the floor to play and talk with her before bed.   She talks back to us....   And makes little Carey facial expressions like "Mama guess what.   Guess what daddy just said to me"  My heart then explodes within me and I have to try not to cry for how much I love her.  It feels almost like a kind of grief. Then I get over my drama and play with her some more.   It's a tiring process for me.

What was I saying?

Oh yeah.

So Carey especially likes to lay and talk to her.   The most common game he plays with her is to say "Piper can you say Hi"   and ya'll.... I PROMISE, cross my heart and hope to die, the girl says hi back.    It happens so fast and she immediately starts telling him a long story after wards so I can never get it on camera as proof but today we were at mama's house and she did it with mama sitting right there.   It was a Christmas miracle.

I don't want to hear that her saying hi is like telling her to say coo. No sir.  I still think she's a genius.   I know every mother thinks that but they're obviously biased and would of course think that.   I'm not.  She's a genius.

Plain. And. Simple.

(Pride goeth, Lord.  I know this.  I'm only half serious.)

(Ok, that's a lie.  Sorry.  I'll work on it.)

DO YOU KNOW THE MUFFIN MAN

A couple of mornings ago I went into the kitchen to get Piper's bottle and out of the corner of my eye I thought I saw a piece of food by the sink.   It wasn't food.   It was a roach.   I then proceeded to yell for Carey at the top of my lungs to come quickly... which he did.... but it was 7am and he had been woken up by this panicked yelling so he wasn't happy with me when he found out it was because of a roach.   He sprayed it with roach killer, it ran into the garbage disposal and promptly died the horrific death of being chopped to pieces.  Don't get me wrong, I hate roaches but that's not a death I would have wished on him.    I felt a little better about it though after I spent an hour and a half bleaching every square inch of that counter and sink, along with all the bottles that had been sitting right next to where it was sprayed. 

Now every time I stand at the sink I imagine this mutilated roach flying out to seek his revenge on me.   Or worse, his friends laying eggs inside our ears like that one episode of ER.

Then later that day I was, once again, feeding Piper and spotted a flea on my arm.    We've had these dogs for 3 years and never once had any problems and now that there's a baby in the house they bring them in?

COME ON!

So now I get to call the exterminator, vacuum like crazy, have him do his treatment that will have all of us (including the dogs) kicked out of the house for at least 4 hours and all because of the threat brought on by one.  stupid.  flea.   Actually two, but still.

In the meantime, I'm convinced I feel them jumping around on my legs and on my head. 

I don't hate many things.   I loathe bugs.   It's why I don't like being outside after dark, why I've never wanted to go camping, why I will never live alone because then who'd be there to kill them for me?   

This is my nightmare.

I do not love this Lucy

Does this frighten anyone else?