Fears
I have a lot of fears. I remember a time when the most taxing thing on my mind was whether I wanted to start my night with beer or wine. Things have changed. The moment Hayden was born I began to worry about everything. I can’t watch the news without getting teary eyed about a missing child somewhere in Florida. I’ve never had so many irrational fears, but I can’t help myself.
Some of my fears are more valid than others. I feel like I can talk about them a bit more today because I have finally gotten some resolution. I remember when I first started writing this blog five months ago I made a few jokes about Hayden’s big head. Well, as time went on, the size of her head actually became a real problem. Her weight remained in the 75th percentile and height in the 50th- but her head went from 80th-90th-95th- to off the charts. I was sent to a pediatric neurologist. Hayden has a deep hatred towards all kinds of doctors. I have no idea how she knows who the doctors are- but she does. As soon as she sees the table with the white paper on it, she becomes hysterical. I’ve actually not taken her to the pediatrician a few times when I should have because I didn’t want repeat performances of multiple nurses and doctors coming in to hold her down. I remember one cold brought us there and my pediatrician wasn’t available to see her. She saw the doctor on duty and they actually called her a wild child. Very reassuring for this first time Mom. Needless to say, they couldn’t examine her and the trip was totally wasted.
Anyway, back to this neurologist. Ironically, he had the biggest head I’ve ever seen on a human being. All I kept thinking was “if this guy became a pediatric neurosurgeon/neurologist, I shouldn’t be too worried about Hayden…”- As we sat for the consultation I reassured him that my family has a tendency of big heads. He asked me if my brother and fathers head’s were bigger than his… I stuttered and said “well, no- umm… not that big”- I glanced over at my mother who was clutching Hayden for dear life and saw her look away and try not to laugh. He disagreed with our pediatrician and thought that my head wasn’t really that big. (Fantastic) He made me take the measurements of both my brother and fathers heads. Awkward, but whatever. I’ll do whatever they ask. So, I left the office and headed to hunt down my family with a measuring tape in my hand. And yes, they have big heads, but apparently, not that abnormally large.
He didn’t feel comfortable to do an MRI since she doesn’t show any other signs of illness besides the large head, so I was off to another specialist. This time we were off to see pediatric ophthalmologist. I didn’t even know what kind of doctor that was. I spent hours on Google. I researched every deformity she could possibly have. I was a hot mess. When I called to schedule the appointment, I asked the nurse if there was a special way that they dilate her eyes, since I couldn’t imagine Hayden being cooperative. She simply said “She’s a baby, right? Just hold her down.” Easier said than done. The kid won’t even let me cut her toe nails. I’ve been trying for months. She’s kicked me in the mouth twice.
This morning I woke up and said out loud that this would be the last day of this madness. This doctor was going to do his thing and tell me that there’s nothing wrong with Hayden. And he did. It was horrible. She screamed like a maniac and it took me, my mom and the doctor to hold her down. But we did it and he told me exactly what I wanted to hear. Nothing wrong- she looked perfectly normal. Yes, the kid just has a big head. (Sigh of relief)
Today I’ve said my prayers, and I’ve thanked my God but my heart goes out to the Mommy’s out there who don’t get to have that sigh of relief.
Now, I can focus on my more irrational fears. Hayden has been putting all her toys in piles, not sharing, and carries the most random things with her constantly. I am pretty sure she’s on the route to be a hoarder.
Thursday, November 3, 2011
And where exactly do you find more Oranges?
And where exactly do you find more Oranges?
I know I’ve spoken at great length about Hayden’s precious stuffed animal that we call Orange. We call him Orange, because (you guessed it) he’s Orange. It’s a seahorse with a huge head and bulging eyes. We were on vacation on Ocean City, Maryland and I eyed a game that I could actually play with a Baby Bjorn strapped to me. Hayden was about five months old at the time. Much to the surprise of the game conductor and my husband, I won. My prize was Orange. I thought it was cute and happily gave it to Hayden. I was proud that this was the first carnival prize that I had ever won for her. She clutched him and off we went about our way.
Once we returned from vacation, Orange stayed by Hayden’s side at night. She would sleep with him and cuddle with him. She would even attack him and shove his bulging eyes into her mouth. I thought it was cute. She turned him into a way to get my attention by throwing him overboard at night and then crying hysterically. She knew that if she threw him overboard, I would come and rescue him and put her back down with a little kiss. I never had a “lovey” or a toy that I was attached to growing up. So the idea that Orange was a part of Hayden’s life was a bit odd to me. Nevertheless, as any Mommy, I would do anything to make her happy. So Orange stayed. I tried to sneak other toys in to replace Orange. It never seemed to work. I remember how upset I was when I ordered Hayden this beautiful dolly that looked like her and had her name stitched on the doll’s dress. I put her to sleep with this beautiful doll, nope, she cried. She wanted Orange. My mother began to complain and stated that the reason why Hayden would not nap for her was because I wouldn’t bring Orange to her house. (NOT because she spoils the hell out of her).
I refused to let Orange leave my house. I was afraid something would happen to him then Hayden would never sleep again. As the months went by, Orange’s battle scars started to show. His extra large nose started to rip. He had a bit of stuffing escaping through his head. I started to get nervous about what I would do when he fell apart. Hayden puked on him a few times, so I had to throw him in the wash a few times as well. I started scouting diners and looking for those vendor games in hopes I would see an Orange in there somewhere. My cousin (who is also a fantastic Mommy) made a good point- She asked what I would actually do if I did find one of those machines with an Orange… How many quarters would it take before I would finally give up. Hm. Good point.
I googled “large headed orange seahorse stuffed animals” and much to my surprise, there weren’t any matches. I started to get desperate. Finally, I grabbed Orange and found written on an extremely faded area of the stuffed animal the words “Peek-a-Boo”. Jackpot. I found the company that manufacturers Orange. Much to my amazement, they are not in China. They are actually in the mid-west. Well, maybe Orange was made in China, but his family is distributed out of Iowa… Or somewhere like that. I called and the nice lady on the customer service line was very helpful. She would be happy to send me some more Orange’s. For the right price. Oh, and they only sell in bulk, so they would have to send 12. I was desperate and happily agreed.
Three days later, a box shows up on my front door and sure enough- there are 12 orange stuffed seahorses with abnormally sized heads. My husband and I have a plan where we will still only allow Orange to stay in her crib and in our house… but my Mother will have one at her home too (we shall see if Hayden will nap there now) and we’ll hide the rest of them. Unfortunately, I didn’t hide the box fast enough. You should have seen the look of confusion on her poor little face as I came out of the bathroom and she had opened the box and was surrounded by Oranges. I’m banking on the fact she won’t remember.
I know I’ve spoken at great length about Hayden’s precious stuffed animal that we call Orange. We call him Orange, because (you guessed it) he’s Orange. It’s a seahorse with a huge head and bulging eyes. We were on vacation on Ocean City, Maryland and I eyed a game that I could actually play with a Baby Bjorn strapped to me. Hayden was about five months old at the time. Much to the surprise of the game conductor and my husband, I won. My prize was Orange. I thought it was cute and happily gave it to Hayden. I was proud that this was the first carnival prize that I had ever won for her. She clutched him and off we went about our way.
Once we returned from vacation, Orange stayed by Hayden’s side at night. She would sleep with him and cuddle with him. She would even attack him and shove his bulging eyes into her mouth. I thought it was cute. She turned him into a way to get my attention by throwing him overboard at night and then crying hysterically. She knew that if she threw him overboard, I would come and rescue him and put her back down with a little kiss. I never had a “lovey” or a toy that I was attached to growing up. So the idea that Orange was a part of Hayden’s life was a bit odd to me. Nevertheless, as any Mommy, I would do anything to make her happy. So Orange stayed. I tried to sneak other toys in to replace Orange. It never seemed to work. I remember how upset I was when I ordered Hayden this beautiful dolly that looked like her and had her name stitched on the doll’s dress. I put her to sleep with this beautiful doll, nope, she cried. She wanted Orange. My mother began to complain and stated that the reason why Hayden would not nap for her was because I wouldn’t bring Orange to her house. (NOT because she spoils the hell out of her).
I refused to let Orange leave my house. I was afraid something would happen to him then Hayden would never sleep again. As the months went by, Orange’s battle scars started to show. His extra large nose started to rip. He had a bit of stuffing escaping through his head. I started to get nervous about what I would do when he fell apart. Hayden puked on him a few times, so I had to throw him in the wash a few times as well. I started scouting diners and looking for those vendor games in hopes I would see an Orange in there somewhere. My cousin (who is also a fantastic Mommy) made a good point- She asked what I would actually do if I did find one of those machines with an Orange… How many quarters would it take before I would finally give up. Hm. Good point.
I googled “large headed orange seahorse stuffed animals” and much to my surprise, there weren’t any matches. I started to get desperate. Finally, I grabbed Orange and found written on an extremely faded area of the stuffed animal the words “Peek-a-Boo”. Jackpot. I found the company that manufacturers Orange. Much to my amazement, they are not in China. They are actually in the mid-west. Well, maybe Orange was made in China, but his family is distributed out of Iowa… Or somewhere like that. I called and the nice lady on the customer service line was very helpful. She would be happy to send me some more Orange’s. For the right price. Oh, and they only sell in bulk, so they would have to send 12. I was desperate and happily agreed.
Three days later, a box shows up on my front door and sure enough- there are 12 orange stuffed seahorses with abnormally sized heads. My husband and I have a plan where we will still only allow Orange to stay in her crib and in our house… but my Mother will have one at her home too (we shall see if Hayden will nap there now) and we’ll hide the rest of them. Unfortunately, I didn’t hide the box fast enough. You should have seen the look of confusion on her poor little face as I came out of the bathroom and she had opened the box and was surrounded by Oranges. I’m banking on the fact she won’t remember.
The Power of No
The Power Of No
Hayden is a very vocal one year old. She has always been a yapper. I remember at my first Mommy and Me Group meeting, the ten of us sat around the room with the car seats between our legs. All the other babies were so quiet, Hayden would moan, yelp, and babble. She was five weeks old. At the time, I didn’t know the girl next to me. After a year, we’ve become very good friends. She still laughs remembering how shocked she was that Hayden would talk.
I don’t think most kids are as vocal as my girl, but it makes a lot of sense. I have a pretty big mouth myself. Well, so I’m told… by my Mother, Father… Husband… and so on. In high school I was voted Class Dreamer (because I would sleep through 1st and 2nd periods religiously) as well as Class Loudest. I always thought they voted me that because I was co-captain of the cheerleading squad- but maybe not so much. I went on to teach Public Speaking at the college level, so maybe it’s not horrible to be vocal, but this week Hayden got me thinking…
She says a lot of words and will actually repeat sounds that she hears. She’s been calling “Mama” forever now. The other day, I was changing her diaper and I swear she called me Anna. I brushed it off and we set out to my mother’s house. We arrived and she immediately was excited to see my Mom and called “Nonna” (Italian for Grandmother)- Then we looked at me again and said “Anna”. I looked at my mom and she asked “Did she just call you Anna?”. Hm. Not sure. My mother picks her up and asks her, “Where’s Mommy?” and on cue she turns and points to me… “Anna”. How do I react to that? I’m figuring that she’ll eventually go back to calling me Momma. And if she doesn’t- then well… I guess Hayden will be the only child in the universe that calls their mother by their first name.
She has also learned the power of “no”. I read waaaaaay too much. I have researched discipline to death and spent a lot of time letting Hayden get into everything. One article I read stated that if you use the word “no” too much, it won’t have much impact in serious situations. It reminded me of when we were training our family dog. We had the emergency word that we would only use when the dog would run into the street- I treated the word “no” the same way with Hayden.
That lasted about four days. Forget it. She gets into everything. EVERYTHING. My new favorite word is no. No- she can’t play with her poop. No- she’s not allowed to play with the fireplace poker. No- she can’t drink Mommy’s Cabernet. No-she cannot put her hands in the fish tank. Well, guess what new word Hayden learned? You guessed it. No. Not only was the article right, if you use the word too much it has no impact, but now she tells me no. When I try to get her to walk, she says no. When I put her down for a nap, she screams no. When I attempt to get her to eat some broccoli, she shakes her head and says no. But if I say no to anything- she will totally ignore me.
I was hoping by the time I wrote this blog this week, I would have some resolution to the first name issue and the no problem- but I don’t. It continues to be a work in progress. Stay tuned.
Hayden is a very vocal one year old. She has always been a yapper. I remember at my first Mommy and Me Group meeting, the ten of us sat around the room with the car seats between our legs. All the other babies were so quiet, Hayden would moan, yelp, and babble. She was five weeks old. At the time, I didn’t know the girl next to me. After a year, we’ve become very good friends. She still laughs remembering how shocked she was that Hayden would talk.
I don’t think most kids are as vocal as my girl, but it makes a lot of sense. I have a pretty big mouth myself. Well, so I’m told… by my Mother, Father… Husband… and so on. In high school I was voted Class Dreamer (because I would sleep through 1st and 2nd periods religiously) as well as Class Loudest. I always thought they voted me that because I was co-captain of the cheerleading squad- but maybe not so much. I went on to teach Public Speaking at the college level, so maybe it’s not horrible to be vocal, but this week Hayden got me thinking…
She says a lot of words and will actually repeat sounds that she hears. She’s been calling “Mama” forever now. The other day, I was changing her diaper and I swear she called me Anna. I brushed it off and we set out to my mother’s house. We arrived and she immediately was excited to see my Mom and called “Nonna” (Italian for Grandmother)- Then we looked at me again and said “Anna”. I looked at my mom and she asked “Did she just call you Anna?”. Hm. Not sure. My mother picks her up and asks her, “Where’s Mommy?” and on cue she turns and points to me… “Anna”. How do I react to that? I’m figuring that she’ll eventually go back to calling me Momma. And if she doesn’t- then well… I guess Hayden will be the only child in the universe that calls their mother by their first name.
She has also learned the power of “no”. I read waaaaaay too much. I have researched discipline to death and spent a lot of time letting Hayden get into everything. One article I read stated that if you use the word “no” too much, it won’t have much impact in serious situations. It reminded me of when we were training our family dog. We had the emergency word that we would only use when the dog would run into the street- I treated the word “no” the same way with Hayden.
That lasted about four days. Forget it. She gets into everything. EVERYTHING. My new favorite word is no. No- she can’t play with her poop. No- she’s not allowed to play with the fireplace poker. No- she can’t drink Mommy’s Cabernet. No-she cannot put her hands in the fish tank. Well, guess what new word Hayden learned? You guessed it. No. Not only was the article right, if you use the word too much it has no impact, but now she tells me no. When I try to get her to walk, she says no. When I put her down for a nap, she screams no. When I attempt to get her to eat some broccoli, she shakes her head and says no. But if I say no to anything- she will totally ignore me.
I was hoping by the time I wrote this blog this week, I would have some resolution to the first name issue and the no problem- but I don’t. It continues to be a work in progress. Stay tuned.
Cancerbytheday.com
Cancerbytheday.com
One night a few weeks ago, I e-mailed an old friend of mine who I adore. Her husband was my Junior Achievement (JA) mentor when I was in high school and I terrorized the poor guy. Yet, he saw something in me that a lot of people didn’t. I was the loud, opinionated, typical know-it-all high school girl. He pushed me to become president of my JA organization. JA, for those of you who have never heard of it, is an organization that creates different “companies” within the different town’s high schools and teaches business models. Not only was my class one of the most successful groups in JA’s history, I was named runner-up President of the Year and won the college scholarship offered. It was that night that I spoke at the annual JA convention in front of hundreds of people and thought, hey, maybe I should set some higher goals for myself- Maybe Bruce, my mentor, is right. I remember him running up to me and shaking me yelling “You got the money! We won the money! That’s what’s important!” He’s English and has an English accent so knowing me; I mocked him and his accent all night after his proclamation.
That’s when I started applying to colleges. And eventually went on to graduate from Pace University with a Bachelors and Sacred Heart University with a Masters. I can’t even believe that I had decided not to attend college until that point. Anyway, fast forward 15 years, we are still great friends and along the way he married the most beautiful, intelligent woman. She and I became quick friends and our personalities are almost identical. She has the same sarcasm, sick sense of humor and outgoingness that I have become proud of. (Not to mention fondness for the occasional Cabernet) She gave birth to two beautiful little girls. They are now 3 and 4 years old. I’ll always remember the night that I told her that I was having a girl. She was so excited. One night, they came to one of my comedy shows and after the show she told me that she hoped that her daughters would grow up to be like me. I can honestly say that was one of the biggest compliments I have ever received in my entire life.
So, anyway, I e-mailed her a few weeks ago to ask her about daycares in her area (I have friends relocating to her town and wanted to learn more for them… remember I’m a Realtor) and instead of the usual friendly e-mail back, the e-mail simply said “Are you still up? Call me.” So I did. And she told me that she had been keeping it a secret for a couple of months now but she knew it was time to come out and to tell everyone that she had breast cancer. She was scheduled to have them both removed, and most importantly, she wasn’t afraid. Remember, she is still in her 30’s. I was devastated for her. Her eternal optimism astounded me. I’ve been thinking non-stop about her, her incredible husband, and her two beautiful little girls.
So as Hayden keeps up with her usual antics, I’ve been looking at her in a whole new light. I’ve been thanking God for every day that he gives me with her. When she ripped up a contract that I had signed from clients earlier this week, I didn’t scream. (Although I did breathe a sigh of relief that I had already faxed it to an attorney) When she kept me up all night last night crying because Orange (her stuffed animal) had “jumped” overboard, I didn’t get angry. I think it’s important to remember that Mommyhood is such a frantic time in all of our lives. We stress the little things way too much. We need to be thankful for our little ones, for our health and remember that everything can change in the blink of an eye.
So, my incredible friend is recovering right now from her surgery. To make matters even more interesting, she has created a website that documents her cancer day by day. Of course she did.
If you have the time, please check out her site, cancerbytheday.com. She is truly an outstanding friend, wife, and most importantly, Mommy. I know she reads her comments regularly, so please don’t hesitate to drop her a note.
One night a few weeks ago, I e-mailed an old friend of mine who I adore. Her husband was my Junior Achievement (JA) mentor when I was in high school and I terrorized the poor guy. Yet, he saw something in me that a lot of people didn’t. I was the loud, opinionated, typical know-it-all high school girl. He pushed me to become president of my JA organization. JA, for those of you who have never heard of it, is an organization that creates different “companies” within the different town’s high schools and teaches business models. Not only was my class one of the most successful groups in JA’s history, I was named runner-up President of the Year and won the college scholarship offered. It was that night that I spoke at the annual JA convention in front of hundreds of people and thought, hey, maybe I should set some higher goals for myself- Maybe Bruce, my mentor, is right. I remember him running up to me and shaking me yelling “You got the money! We won the money! That’s what’s important!” He’s English and has an English accent so knowing me; I mocked him and his accent all night after his proclamation.
That’s when I started applying to colleges. And eventually went on to graduate from Pace University with a Bachelors and Sacred Heart University with a Masters. I can’t even believe that I had decided not to attend college until that point. Anyway, fast forward 15 years, we are still great friends and along the way he married the most beautiful, intelligent woman. She and I became quick friends and our personalities are almost identical. She has the same sarcasm, sick sense of humor and outgoingness that I have become proud of. (Not to mention fondness for the occasional Cabernet) She gave birth to two beautiful little girls. They are now 3 and 4 years old. I’ll always remember the night that I told her that I was having a girl. She was so excited. One night, they came to one of my comedy shows and after the show she told me that she hoped that her daughters would grow up to be like me. I can honestly say that was one of the biggest compliments I have ever received in my entire life.
So, anyway, I e-mailed her a few weeks ago to ask her about daycares in her area (I have friends relocating to her town and wanted to learn more for them… remember I’m a Realtor) and instead of the usual friendly e-mail back, the e-mail simply said “Are you still up? Call me.” So I did. And she told me that she had been keeping it a secret for a couple of months now but she knew it was time to come out and to tell everyone that she had breast cancer. She was scheduled to have them both removed, and most importantly, she wasn’t afraid. Remember, she is still in her 30’s. I was devastated for her. Her eternal optimism astounded me. I’ve been thinking non-stop about her, her incredible husband, and her two beautiful little girls.
So as Hayden keeps up with her usual antics, I’ve been looking at her in a whole new light. I’ve been thanking God for every day that he gives me with her. When she ripped up a contract that I had signed from clients earlier this week, I didn’t scream. (Although I did breathe a sigh of relief that I had already faxed it to an attorney) When she kept me up all night last night crying because Orange (her stuffed animal) had “jumped” overboard, I didn’t get angry. I think it’s important to remember that Mommyhood is such a frantic time in all of our lives. We stress the little things way too much. We need to be thankful for our little ones, for our health and remember that everything can change in the blink of an eye.
So, my incredible friend is recovering right now from her surgery. To make matters even more interesting, she has created a website that documents her cancer day by day. Of course she did.
If you have the time, please check out her site, cancerbytheday.com. She is truly an outstanding friend, wife, and most importantly, Mommy. I know she reads her comments regularly, so please don’t hesitate to drop her a note.
Another Day, Another Story
Another Day, Another Story
Hayden ate Purell. Yep. She gulped it. I was multi-tasking as usual. I was on my cell, cheking e-mail and watching Hayden play with her toys. All of a sudden I heard gagging. I looked over at the little diva and sure enough she had green stuff coming out of her mouth. I have no idea how she got to the Purell. It was high and out of her reach, but she did. I hung up the phone, swept her up and ran her over to the sink. I frantically rinsed out her mouth. She thought this was hysterical. She was laughing so hard that she bit me. After a few minutes, I finally stopped and her put her down. She resumed crawling around and used the opportunity of being in the kitchen to start opening all the cabinets. I watched her and she seemed fine. It was now bedtime, so I brought her upstairs to get her bath ready.
I’m part of an anal, fantastic Mommy group. I think one of the reasons we all get along so well is because we’re all insane. I remember a while back there was a big discussion about the dangers of babies eating Purell. At that moment, I wish I had paid more attention to those e-mails. I called back my Mommy group friend and she simply asked “Did you read what the bottle says?”. Nope. That actually didn’t cross my mind. At that moment, my husband walked in the bathroom and I told him what happened. He looked at me and said “Did you read what the bottle says?” Nope. Apparently, I’m the only parent in the entire universe that didn’t think to read the bottle. So I read the bottle. Call a doctor if your child drinks this crap. (Okay, that’s not what it actually says but close enough). Hayden was totally fine, but I called the pediatrician anyway. The woman on call insisted that I hang up immediately and call Poison Control. Hm. Now this was going so far. She was acting totally normal. But the fear of Child Protective Services showing up at my door was enough for me to google the number and call.
The woman on the other end was very serious. And I, for some odd reason, found the entire situation incredibly awkward and somewhat humorous. I don’t know why. I think my Mommy intuition made me know that Hayden was fine and I thought this was over kill. Don’t get me wrong, I will do anything for my baby girl and will take as many precautions as possible- but really? Poison Control for a little Purell that I’m pretty sure I got out? I was instructed to keep her up for an hour. Give her a snack and some milk. Their main concern was that she would be drunk from the Purell because of the high alcohol content. It took every ounce of me not to make a joke and say that I wasn’t worried since she normally has a higher tolerance than her Mom… but again, the fear of CPS loomed over my head. I, unfortunately, had to be in the office right after this whole issue went down, so I left poor Paul to deal with cranky, angry Hayden. I wish I was there to watch him deal with her. On top of having to go to bed an hour later than usual, she had skipped her afternoon nap. Oops.
Those people at Poison Control are pretty on top of things. They called back exactly one hour later to question Paul about how she was acting. I also wish I was a fly on the wall to hear that conversation. I can imagine how it went… “Sir, how was your daughter behaving before you put her to bed?”… “Well, she was screaming like a maniac, picking her nose and sucking on some wipes… completely normal”.
Another day in Hayden’s world. I saw her eyeing the Purell again this morning. I tasted it. I was curious. Oh come on! You would have tasted it too. Right?...
Hayden ate Purell. Yep. She gulped it. I was multi-tasking as usual. I was on my cell, cheking e-mail and watching Hayden play with her toys. All of a sudden I heard gagging. I looked over at the little diva and sure enough she had green stuff coming out of her mouth. I have no idea how she got to the Purell. It was high and out of her reach, but she did. I hung up the phone, swept her up and ran her over to the sink. I frantically rinsed out her mouth. She thought this was hysterical. She was laughing so hard that she bit me. After a few minutes, I finally stopped and her put her down. She resumed crawling around and used the opportunity of being in the kitchen to start opening all the cabinets. I watched her and she seemed fine. It was now bedtime, so I brought her upstairs to get her bath ready.
I’m part of an anal, fantastic Mommy group. I think one of the reasons we all get along so well is because we’re all insane. I remember a while back there was a big discussion about the dangers of babies eating Purell. At that moment, I wish I had paid more attention to those e-mails. I called back my Mommy group friend and she simply asked “Did you read what the bottle says?”. Nope. That actually didn’t cross my mind. At that moment, my husband walked in the bathroom and I told him what happened. He looked at me and said “Did you read what the bottle says?” Nope. Apparently, I’m the only parent in the entire universe that didn’t think to read the bottle. So I read the bottle. Call a doctor if your child drinks this crap. (Okay, that’s not what it actually says but close enough). Hayden was totally fine, but I called the pediatrician anyway. The woman on call insisted that I hang up immediately and call Poison Control. Hm. Now this was going so far. She was acting totally normal. But the fear of Child Protective Services showing up at my door was enough for me to google the number and call.
The woman on the other end was very serious. And I, for some odd reason, found the entire situation incredibly awkward and somewhat humorous. I don’t know why. I think my Mommy intuition made me know that Hayden was fine and I thought this was over kill. Don’t get me wrong, I will do anything for my baby girl and will take as many precautions as possible- but really? Poison Control for a little Purell that I’m pretty sure I got out? I was instructed to keep her up for an hour. Give her a snack and some milk. Their main concern was that she would be drunk from the Purell because of the high alcohol content. It took every ounce of me not to make a joke and say that I wasn’t worried since she normally has a higher tolerance than her Mom… but again, the fear of CPS loomed over my head. I, unfortunately, had to be in the office right after this whole issue went down, so I left poor Paul to deal with cranky, angry Hayden. I wish I was there to watch him deal with her. On top of having to go to bed an hour later than usual, she had skipped her afternoon nap. Oops.
Those people at Poison Control are pretty on top of things. They called back exactly one hour later to question Paul about how she was acting. I also wish I was a fly on the wall to hear that conversation. I can imagine how it went… “Sir, how was your daughter behaving before you put her to bed?”… “Well, she was screaming like a maniac, picking her nose and sucking on some wipes… completely normal”.
Another day in Hayden’s world. I saw her eyeing the Purell again this morning. I tasted it. I was curious. Oh come on! You would have tasted it too. Right?...
New Experiences
This week was full of new experiences. Watching Hayden learn about the world around her has been incredible. This week Hayden discovered that she too can flush the toilet. No morning is complete until she crawls into the bathroom, hoists herself to standing position and repeatedly flushes. Apparently, this is very serious business because she won’t crack a smile. She will just flush and stare with an intense look on her face.
I’ve also been doing a lot of research about discipline. I figured that I should probably have an idea about how to properly discipline her. By nature, I’m pretty laid back. My friends always made fun of me because my favorite line throughout my 20’s was “That’s fine”… “It’ll be fine”… “Who cares?... It’s fine”. That has been pretty much my approach to Hayden’s antics. I mean, besides being a diva, how much trouble could she possibly get into? Well, I’m learning. She wants to eat soap. She destroyed my last laptop (FYI, this blog is coming live from my brand new laptop!). She de-programmed the television so that it no longer had volume. My mother still isn’t sure what she did to their home phone that no longer accepts calls. She prank called several of my past clients at 6:30 in the morning from my cell. She deleted all of my Mom’s pictures off her cell phone. She hid all my credit cards around the house. She destroyed all my coupons in my pocketbook. She’s done all of this in the past week.
All of those things are pretty annoying, but it’s her little attitude that really alarms me. If she sees something she wants that she can’t have, she will throw herself backwards and scream until you give it to her. The SECOND you hand it to her, she smiles and will stop her tantrum immediately. How can such a beautiful little girl be so manipulative? So, now I’m worried. I’m okay with raising a diva. I’m not okay with raising a spoiled brat. Nevertheless, I’ve been researching discipline. It made me take a second to stop and think about what tactics Paul and I would mutually agree to use. I’ve learned a lot in the past week. Apparently, consistency is key. Fantastic. I’m a lot of things, but consistent is something that I’m normally called. I’ve learned that Hayden is the type of child who most likely won’t respond to just “no” and I will have to continuously remove her from situations that I do not want her in. I “removed her” from the bathroom cabinet thirteen times yesterday. Not bad for a Mommy who lacks consistency. I’ll tell you though, this morning as she crawled with purpose over to the cabinet, I really didn’t feel like removing her again… for the fourteenth time. But I did. We’ll see tomorrow if she tries again.
I had one of my very best friends over a couple weeks ago and I was complaining about all the silly things that Hayden does. My friend was quiet and just kept smiling. After I finished with a huff and a big gulp of my Pinot Grigio, she looked at me and simply said “She’s exactly like you, you know.” I rolled my eyes and dismissed her. Looking back on it though, she’s probably right. My Mom still tells me what to do, and I still don’t listen. My Mom has been consistently telling me for 30 years what to do. I hope I can do the same for Hayden. I wonder if she’ll listen…
This week was full of new experiences. Watching Hayden learn about the world around her has been incredible. This week Hayden discovered that she too can flush the toilet. No morning is complete until she crawls into the bathroom, hoists herself to standing position and repeatedly flushes. Apparently, this is very serious business because she won’t crack a smile. She will just flush and stare with an intense look on her face.
I’ve also been doing a lot of research about discipline. I figured that I should probably have an idea about how to properly discipline her. By nature, I’m pretty laid back. My friends always made fun of me because my favorite line throughout my 20’s was “That’s fine”… “It’ll be fine”… “Who cares?... It’s fine”. That has been pretty much my approach to Hayden’s antics. I mean, besides being a diva, how much trouble could she possibly get into? Well, I’m learning. She wants to eat soap. She destroyed my last laptop (FYI, this blog is coming live from my brand new laptop!). She de-programmed the television so that it no longer had volume. My mother still isn’t sure what she did to their home phone that no longer accepts calls. She prank called several of my past clients at 6:30 in the morning from my cell. She deleted all of my Mom’s pictures off her cell phone. She hid all my credit cards around the house. She destroyed all my coupons in my pocketbook. She’s done all of this in the past week.
All of those things are pretty annoying, but it’s her little attitude that really alarms me. If she sees something she wants that she can’t have, she will throw herself backwards and scream until you give it to her. The SECOND you hand it to her, she smiles and will stop her tantrum immediately. How can such a beautiful little girl be so manipulative? So, now I’m worried. I’m okay with raising a diva. I’m not okay with raising a spoiled brat. Nevertheless, I’ve been researching discipline. It made me take a second to stop and think about what tactics Paul and I would mutually agree to use. I’ve learned a lot in the past week. Apparently, consistency is key. Fantastic. I’m a lot of things, but consistent is something that I’m normally called. I’ve learned that Hayden is the type of child who most likely won’t respond to just “no” and I will have to continuously remove her from situations that I do not want her in. I “removed her” from the bathroom cabinet thirteen times yesterday. Not bad for a Mommy who lacks consistency. I’ll tell you though, this morning as she crawled with purpose over to the cabinet, I really didn’t feel like removing her again… for the fourteenth time. But I did. We’ll see tomorrow if she tries again.
I had one of my very best friends over a couple weeks ago and I was complaining about all the silly things that Hayden does. My friend was quiet and just kept smiling. After I finished with a huff and a big gulp of my Pinot Grigio, she looked at me and simply said “She’s exactly like you, you know.” I rolled my eyes and dismissed her. Looking back on it though, she’s probably right. My Mom still tells me what to do, and I still don’t listen. My Mom has been consistently telling me for 30 years what to do. I hope I can do the same for Hayden. I wonder if she’ll listen…
The Birthday That Wasn't
The Birthday That Wasn’t
I’m glad that I’ve had two weeks to think about what I’m going to write about Hayden’s birthday party. When I read my last post earlier, I remembered the excitement and anticipation I had. I still get tears in my eyes thinking about that horrible weekend.
Well, I guess that’s harsh. I wouldn’t call it horrible, my baby girl did turn one year old and I did celebrate my five year anniversary with my husband- but it wasn’t the way it was supposed to be.
I had booked Stepping Stones Museum for Hayden’s party about six months ago. I’ve always had a lot of anxiety about her birthday because of weather. I got married in March and my father had threatened to kill me. We had wedding guests flying in from Canada, Italy, California, Michigan, and Arizona, he was convinced they would never arrive because there would be some kind of snow storm that would prevent air travel. He was almost right. The day before our wedding, we had six inches of snow. I know it took every ounce of his being not to kill me that day. Luckily, the guests did arrive, and my actual wedding day was a beautiful 50 degree sunny day. My pictures are gorgeous with the sunshine and snow in the background. I didn’t get so lucky with Hayden’s birthday party.
I specifically booked Stepping Stones because I figured where else would I put 150 people, especially if it rains or snows? Perfect answer. The theme of the party was cupcakes. My cousin came over bright and early Friday morning and we began baking. We baked 500 cupcakes. All sizes. All flavors. My sister flew in from California and we spent six hours frosting on Saturday. Sure, I knew the weather was bad out. Sure, I had heard about all the power outages. I wasn’t worried though. It’s a huge museum on a major road- The party would go on. Anyway, there was an actual “Act of God” clause in our contract. I laughed at it. Act of God? Really?! Really. My sister wasn’t so optimistic. I should have listened to her. All my aunts baked. They baked a lot. That’s what Italians do. We braved the weather and headed to Costco and purchased tons of beer, appetizer food, drinks. We passed out in exhaustion on Saturday night excited for the next day. The “Cake Boss” cake had been picked up (a giant cupcake), the clown and his 50 balloon animals were all set, and Hayden’s hand made (and I designed!) etsy.com dress hung on the hanger. My father (he’s the chef and owner of Via Sforza in Westport) had all the food prepped (and he went all out for his only granddaughter). I woke up and headed downstairs and admired all the beautifully decorated cupcakes. I made floral centerpieces that looked like cupcakes (they were pretty cute, you can call me Martha Stewart from now on) and they were blooming. 9 a.m. Phone rings. My heart sank. I breathed a sigh of relief that it was my mom. She wanted to make sure everything was still on- I told her yes and she seemed happy even though she hadn’t had power in 24 hours. I hung up and the phone rang again, I answered it quickly thinking it was my Mom again. Nope. This time it was Stepping Stones. They had no power. They may have it back by Noon. I was optimistic. I still cried. At 10 am, I couldn’t take it anymore and we packed up Hayden in the car (all of us in our pajamas) and headed over to the museum to see what was going on. As I drove down West Avenue, all the lights were working. I had hope again! Then I saw it. A major tree right in front of the museum had fallen down (huge roots and all) and took out the power lines going into the museum. My heart sank. I asked Paul if I could cry now. He said no, but I did anyway. I cried the way Hayden cries when I take toilet paper out of her hands. I sobbed.
Yet, in my delusional head, I thought maybe, just maybe, it would work out. Finally, at Noon they gave me the “no go”. With the help of a couple friends we called and told all of our guests (some coming from Jersey were already on the road) and canceled. I was a hot mess. Financially it sucked. The loss of food sucked. The cost of the rental tables and chairs sucked. Worst part? Couldn’t get a hold of Pongo the Clown. He went. Saw the sign and left. For the record, Taylor Rental of Norwalk and Pongo the Clown have been fantastic in helping me out due to the circumstances.
I feel a little like a baby for crying over my daughters canceled birthday party. I mean, people didn’t have power for a week. People were seriously injured, homes were destroyed, but I was still heart broken.
Stepping Stones finally rescheduled the party for June 13th. It’s their only available date. I was having a heart attack that it was taking so long to get a new date. So it will technically be Hayden’s 15 month Birthday party, but she doesn’t seem to be bothered. She actually seemed to have no idea what was happening all day. She thought Mommy crying was pretty funny. I’m so thankful she’s so little she doesn’t understand yet. I can only imagine the impact this would have on a five year old.
My immediate family (aunts/uncles/cousins… we tally about 35 people) showed up at my parents restaurant and Paul dragged me. I had no intention of doing anything, but I guess my Mom decided we were not going to sulk on her granddaughter’s birthday. As always, I am eternally grateful for such a huge family that will drop anything to be with me. They weren’t going to let power lines down, no electricity and area fires stop them from seeing Hayden on her first birthday. They brought their baked goods. We looked like a huge bakery. It wasn’t what I had planned, totally impromptu- but looking back, it was great. It took my mind off my tears and we still got to sing Happy Birthday to my little girl… who wore her special dress.
Paul took Monday off to take me out for our anniversary. We dropped off all the cupcakes at the housing authority in Norwalk for the less fortunate. I only ate one of those cupcakes. The thought of eating more than that literally made me sick. That day I swore off ever baking a cupcake again. Of course now that time has passed, I’m pretty sure I’ll do it again. It’s amazing the things we’ll do for the babies.
We went to Tao in the city- I guess it just wasn’t my week. Towards the end of our dinner I started feeling severely claustrophobic and we rushed out. We got in the car and I had to make Paul pull over so I could puke and then I passed out the rest of the ride home. So romantic.
So, that’s it. My sad, pathetic story. I have to go now. Hayden took all of my credit cards out of my wallet today when I wasn’t looking and hid them around the house. I still can’t find my Neiman Marcus card.
I’m glad that I’ve had two weeks to think about what I’m going to write about Hayden’s birthday party. When I read my last post earlier, I remembered the excitement and anticipation I had. I still get tears in my eyes thinking about that horrible weekend.
Well, I guess that’s harsh. I wouldn’t call it horrible, my baby girl did turn one year old and I did celebrate my five year anniversary with my husband- but it wasn’t the way it was supposed to be.
I had booked Stepping Stones Museum for Hayden’s party about six months ago. I’ve always had a lot of anxiety about her birthday because of weather. I got married in March and my father had threatened to kill me. We had wedding guests flying in from Canada, Italy, California, Michigan, and Arizona, he was convinced they would never arrive because there would be some kind of snow storm that would prevent air travel. He was almost right. The day before our wedding, we had six inches of snow. I know it took every ounce of his being not to kill me that day. Luckily, the guests did arrive, and my actual wedding day was a beautiful 50 degree sunny day. My pictures are gorgeous with the sunshine and snow in the background. I didn’t get so lucky with Hayden’s birthday party.
I specifically booked Stepping Stones because I figured where else would I put 150 people, especially if it rains or snows? Perfect answer. The theme of the party was cupcakes. My cousin came over bright and early Friday morning and we began baking. We baked 500 cupcakes. All sizes. All flavors. My sister flew in from California and we spent six hours frosting on Saturday. Sure, I knew the weather was bad out. Sure, I had heard about all the power outages. I wasn’t worried though. It’s a huge museum on a major road- The party would go on. Anyway, there was an actual “Act of God” clause in our contract. I laughed at it. Act of God? Really?! Really. My sister wasn’t so optimistic. I should have listened to her. All my aunts baked. They baked a lot. That’s what Italians do. We braved the weather and headed to Costco and purchased tons of beer, appetizer food, drinks. We passed out in exhaustion on Saturday night excited for the next day. The “Cake Boss” cake had been picked up (a giant cupcake), the clown and his 50 balloon animals were all set, and Hayden’s hand made (and I designed!) etsy.com dress hung on the hanger. My father (he’s the chef and owner of Via Sforza in Westport) had all the food prepped (and he went all out for his only granddaughter). I woke up and headed downstairs and admired all the beautifully decorated cupcakes. I made floral centerpieces that looked like cupcakes (they were pretty cute, you can call me Martha Stewart from now on) and they were blooming. 9 a.m. Phone rings. My heart sank. I breathed a sigh of relief that it was my mom. She wanted to make sure everything was still on- I told her yes and she seemed happy even though she hadn’t had power in 24 hours. I hung up and the phone rang again, I answered it quickly thinking it was my Mom again. Nope. This time it was Stepping Stones. They had no power. They may have it back by Noon. I was optimistic. I still cried. At 10 am, I couldn’t take it anymore and we packed up Hayden in the car (all of us in our pajamas) and headed over to the museum to see what was going on. As I drove down West Avenue, all the lights were working. I had hope again! Then I saw it. A major tree right in front of the museum had fallen down (huge roots and all) and took out the power lines going into the museum. My heart sank. I asked Paul if I could cry now. He said no, but I did anyway. I cried the way Hayden cries when I take toilet paper out of her hands. I sobbed.
Yet, in my delusional head, I thought maybe, just maybe, it would work out. Finally, at Noon they gave me the “no go”. With the help of a couple friends we called and told all of our guests (some coming from Jersey were already on the road) and canceled. I was a hot mess. Financially it sucked. The loss of food sucked. The cost of the rental tables and chairs sucked. Worst part? Couldn’t get a hold of Pongo the Clown. He went. Saw the sign and left. For the record, Taylor Rental of Norwalk and Pongo the Clown have been fantastic in helping me out due to the circumstances.
I feel a little like a baby for crying over my daughters canceled birthday party. I mean, people didn’t have power for a week. People were seriously injured, homes were destroyed, but I was still heart broken.
Stepping Stones finally rescheduled the party for June 13th. It’s their only available date. I was having a heart attack that it was taking so long to get a new date. So it will technically be Hayden’s 15 month Birthday party, but she doesn’t seem to be bothered. She actually seemed to have no idea what was happening all day. She thought Mommy crying was pretty funny. I’m so thankful she’s so little she doesn’t understand yet. I can only imagine the impact this would have on a five year old.
My immediate family (aunts/uncles/cousins… we tally about 35 people) showed up at my parents restaurant and Paul dragged me. I had no intention of doing anything, but I guess my Mom decided we were not going to sulk on her granddaughter’s birthday. As always, I am eternally grateful for such a huge family that will drop anything to be with me. They weren’t going to let power lines down, no electricity and area fires stop them from seeing Hayden on her first birthday. They brought their baked goods. We looked like a huge bakery. It wasn’t what I had planned, totally impromptu- but looking back, it was great. It took my mind off my tears and we still got to sing Happy Birthday to my little girl… who wore her special dress.
Paul took Monday off to take me out for our anniversary. We dropped off all the cupcakes at the housing authority in Norwalk for the less fortunate. I only ate one of those cupcakes. The thought of eating more than that literally made me sick. That day I swore off ever baking a cupcake again. Of course now that time has passed, I’m pretty sure I’ll do it again. It’s amazing the things we’ll do for the babies.
We went to Tao in the city- I guess it just wasn’t my week. Towards the end of our dinner I started feeling severely claustrophobic and we rushed out. We got in the car and I had to make Paul pull over so I could puke and then I passed out the rest of the ride home. So romantic.
So, that’s it. My sad, pathetic story. I have to go now. Hayden took all of my credit cards out of my wallet today when I wasn’t looking and hid them around the house. I still can’t find my Neiman Marcus card.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)