How to throw himself on the floor and have a temper tantrum for over 20 minutes.

How do I not pick him up. I’m freaking out people I have never never never never let my son just cry I don’t know what to do here.

So a while ago I wrote a blog called Regret that said that you needed to remember the reasons why you love the person your with. So I thought why not started posting the things Rob does that make me swoon so that I can always look back and remember on those days that I want to change the locks on the doors and banish him from the house.

Anyway if you know me you know that I have a minor itty bitty sweet tooth. On top of that I am obsessed with things that are limited edition. When I say obsessed I mean crazy will buy anything must try everything once obsessed. So bad in fact that when I was breast feeding and couldn’t eat nuts they came out with two new Reese’s, the marshmallow one and the caramel one. Well since I couldn’t eat them but I HAD to try them I rushed to the store and purchased two of everything new just to make sure that when I could eat nuts again I would have them there. Yes I’m not kidding I really do buy candy and stress about whether I have enough of a limited edition to last me in case they stop making them. This happened to me once and I was devastated. Kit Kat came out with a new white chocolate covered double chocolate inside Kit Kat and I didn’t buy enough and now I’ll never never never taste the delicious chocolaty taste of that limited edition Kit Kat.

Back to the story though. Tuesday night Rob went to the store and asked if I needed anything and I asked for asparagus and mushrooms. I wanted to ask for ice cream but that was on the other side of the store and I know he gets mad when I send him running all over the store. When I got home that night I found two containers of Cookies and Cream ice cream which is his favorite flavor. I couldn’t believe I didn’t ask for ice cream since he was already going to that isle. Then I saw that he had also gotten Gingerbread ice cream. I found that odd since he only eats cookies and cream but thought maybe he wanted to try out a new cookie flavor. So I walked into the bathroom where he was showering and said, “Gingerbread huh?” And he replied….

wait for it…

“Well it said limited edition on it and I know how much you like that stuff so I got it for you to try.”

SUPER DOUBLE SWOON. In fact I’m melting again right now just typing about how sweet that was. I didn’t even know he noticed my addiction to limited addition sweet treats. Wow.

By the way the ice cream is delicious. It is cinnamon ice cream with brown sugar swirled in and then some ginger bread cookie.

Bath time again. For some wierd reason I thought maybe I should teach Brandon how to splash in the bath. Now in order to give him a bath, I have to remove the bath mat and baricade myself behind a giant towel to avoid getting soaked. Last night he learned two knew things. He figured out he could fill up a cup and pour it outside the bath and then he learned that he could take his bath toy bag and slam it into the water to make a splash giant enough to splash across the bathroom and all the way to the top of the mirror.

Notice the giant splash and all the water that ended up on me

Hi folks. It’s 9:47 AM and we are at work. So far today Brandon has been in trouble twice already. First he tipped over the Companies coveted Raiders Christmas tree covered in Raiders Christmas ornaments. Wait did I forget to say these are special ordered only come once a year never made again because each year has its own year thingy printed on the ornament. Did I forget to mention that this was my moms precious priceless work tree that SHE ONLY PUT UP YESTERDAY! Number of priceless ornaments broken, SEVEN. So I get that disaster cleaned up and I get him back in my office and my phone ring so of course I have to answer. All the sudden I hear the girl in my office saying “SHANNON YOU MIGHT WANT TO COME LOOK AT THIS.” I get up walk into the kitchen and find this.

Great. Now what. I made a pathetic attempt to re roll the foil which is virtually impossible, along with trying to unstick saran wrap from itself and re rolling that. This has been a terrific day so far. I can’t wait to see what he will get into next. This kid is out of control here. My favorite part is the brand new pack of child proofing thingies sitting on the counter right above the drawer that contained the contraband foil and plastic wrap. However even though I work with a bunch of manly men none of them seem to be able to figure out how to install a silly little drawer latch. Woe is me.

Do you have thoughts that your are afraid to voice? Not because you are scared of getting judged or hurting someones feelings, but because you fear they could come true? I do. The most common one is just wanting a day by myself. I would love to have a day where I slept in, laid around, and did nothing. Followed up by some scrapbooking where no little guy shredded all of my paper and then a nice dinner with out some one climbing my chair and poking me. I would love to do this for just one day. Here is the problem I’m terrified that if I have thoughts like that something will then happen to my son and I will get my wish but it will be all my fault because I asked for him to be gone for just a day. It’s the same as when I think I don’t want him to grow up. But if I say that then will something happen and then he will never grow up and it will all be because I made a selfish comment and said I didn’t want him to get big. Am I crazy thinking these thoughts. Am I just being a doomsdayer (is that a real word?) I hate having these thoughts because it would be so nice to ask my husband for a break for a day. To bad I’m just to scared.

Guess what happened this morning. I woke up played with my son, watched some TV, made some coffee, brushed my teeth AND PUT ON MY OLD LACY BRA. Thats right people I said Lacy Bra. Its yellow with pink lace flowers on it and quite raunchy but sweet if I do say so myself. I’m torn between missing my nursing boobs and wanting to jump for joy over being able to wear a bra again. It is out of sheer respect for my readers (yes all five of you) that I do not post pictures of me prancing around in my bras.

Some background here. I don’t remember the last time I wore less then a D size bra. This is a little annoying because unless you are a size 0 with a D cup then the bra people generally don’t make anything but big-ole-ugly-white-plain-cotton-strap em in and tie em down-old lady bras. So it has actually been close to 5 yeas since I could buy a bra for anything more then function. Since getting pregnant I have been stable at a DD and that was small coming off the first nursing boob phases making me somewhere close to a FFFFFF size. So about two months ago I get it in my head that maybe I could move on from nursing bras and buy some that will at least push the girls up and make me feel somewhat like a female. It worked beautifully. Nevermind they were plain white and black bras they still made my boobs and my stomach become two different areas. While at the store I threw this beautiful C cup bra in my car in hopes that someday I would be able to wear it.

SOMEDAY IS HERE PEOPLE. Although I’m sad that my girls have now shrunk down to measly little C cups I am thrilled to be prancing around in my lace bra. Today is going to be a good day because as we all know, when you have on nice underwear your whole day is instantly better. If you did not know that I advise you to rush out to the nearest pantie sale (gap recently sold panties for .97) and buy yourself one nice matching lacy bra and pantie. Put it on under your normal jeans and T-shirt and I promise your day will be awesome because you will have your own secret. Under your boring old jeans and T-shirt you are a fabulous lingerie model and no one else gets to know.

I am actually pretty sad about losing my girls. I no longer get to walk around and refer to my..
Big guzungas
Girls
Gianormous boobs
Melons
Jumbo Wumbo’s

Okay so I know a while ago I blogged about not nursing anymore. What I don’t know is why no one warned me what happens to your kids poop when he isn’t getting breast milk anymore.

**Things that have changed since nursing stopped**
*Poop quantity went from one a day to three a day
*Nice round little poop turned to hot steaming liquid gooey poo
*Poo that used to stay in diaper is now smeared all over babies but in yellowish drippy fashion and oozing out of diaper
*Mom has gone from calm and collected super diaper changer to, gagging, poo covered sweaty rushing freak

**Things that have not changed since nursing stopped**
*BABY STILL LOVES TO STICK HANDS IN POO

Soo here I am ladies left with a baby who as soon as I undo the velcro diaper straps immediately reaches hands inside to swirl them in his poo. This leaves me to freak out and try holding both legs up while holding both hands and still managing to wipe hot stinky mess from his butt. When does it end people when will the poop madness end?

I just found these from a few months ago and couldn’t help but laugh

Have you ever lost someone? I have. Something weird about loss is that there are so m any different reactions to it. Its not like someone dies and bamm you are instantly a wreck. For me I have a hard time finding the proper reaction for loss. Actually I guess I should say I have a hard time reacting the way other people think I should. Let me give you a small example of a few deaths and my reaction.

Dad dies when I’m 12: I have nearly no reaction, I go to school and hang out with boys and go about my day…family is very very pissed

Friend dies: I feel a little sad go to funeral and say all the right things, go home and go to bed…friends very confused I’m not an emotional spewing wreck of tears

Grandma dies: Have a complete nervous breakdown that has never stopped and freak out and lose all mental capacity…family gets mad because apparently I got to upset over this

Small teeny bunny rabbit that I rescued from moms cat died after I had it for one day: Have another complete meltdown, screaming how can I take care of a kid if I can’t even keep a bunny alive (okay I was 8 months pregnant that might have had something to do with the melt down)…family worries about me and thinks my reaction is very justified.

Right okay so what do I do with that. I find it amusing that there is “A WAY” that you are supposed to feel when people die. Maybe I missed that book when we read it in kindergarten. If someone out there has a copy of the “HOW TO REACT WHEN PEOPLE DIE” rule book please forward it to me my address will be below. I’m sure there is a chapter in the book with a rating scale, it would look like this.

1-not so upset 10 allowed to wail and cry with out people getting mad

10-parents and kids
9- pets
5-8 friends
2- acquaintances
1- people you don’t know

Maybe then I would have known how to grieve appropriately so people didnt get mad.

Another thing I apparently suck at is not reacting write when someone I know, knows someone who died. First of all I don’t do that hugging caring shit even when people died what makes you think I will do it then. Its funny to me that people would rather have a fake hug along with an its okay that you feel like shit go ahead and do what ever you want all day because you are grieving comment tossed their way rather then just accepting that I don’t do that. Maybe its because they are so uncomfortable with their loss that they want to make me feel uncomfortable too by forcing me to hug them and embrace them.

I DON’T EMBRACE. Get it through your head. I’m not that way. I’m personal and private when it comes to touching. Word wise I’m an open book but when it comes to the touch I’m like “eww get off man.” I make two exceptions to this rule. One for my husband and one for my son. That is it people. If you are not my son or my husband STOP TOUCHING ME.

Back to the topic at hand. My grandma died about 5 years ago and I’m still totally devastated about it. I don’t know what it was about that one death that is killing me but it is. She was my rock. She listened to whatever story I had created and always said Okay I’m sure you will do great at that. I don’t know why I’m not bothered by most other deaths. I’m just not. People are going to die and I accept that. The worst part about having someone die when you are younger is you never get to ask them the important questions. Then they die and the family always says I’ll tell you someday. Well five years of someday’s have passed and I don’t know squat.

The other thing that gets me is the whole taking possessions after death. What is that about? Someone dies and all the sudden the family battles start over who gets what and when. Great my grandma died and I got a bunch of her junk, yeah thats going to comfort me at night when I want to call and hear her voice.

The point here is that I miss my grandma. I hate that I don’t know things about her. I wish I had one of her secret family recipes french toast sooooo doesn’t count). I wish I knew if she dated anyone besides grandpa. Did she go to college, did she do well in school, what were her friends like, and so on. I hate not knowing all of that.

I encourage those of you that still have your grandmas or loved ones to make a list of everything you want to know and get answers to all of your questions. Make sure that someday you don’t end up like me wondering who that person that you called grandma was all this time. At the same time make a list of all the things you learned or remember about them so that some day you can look back and smile about all of those things. Here is mine.

THINGS I LEARNED FROM GRANDMA
*The ice cream truck is very important
*Its okay to run around in your grandmas make up and look like a dork
*Ginger ale is best served Raspberry
*Find something you love like crochette and share it
*How to spell my name
*Candy dishes are necessary

THINGS I DIDN’T LEARN FROM GRANDMA
*WHO SHE REALLY WAS

Anyway I have spent the last few weeks feeling pretty sorry for myself and I don’t know why. It has been so long since she died and all the sudden the memories or maybe lack of memories just came rushing back to me. I don’t know why. I wish I could have an hour with her but I know that is not possible. It devastates me that she will never know my son. What makes that harder is that since she is my dads mom Brandon would have been my dads first grandchild and she never got to see him. I was never bothered that my dad wasn’t at my wedding but I hated not having my grandma there.

Grandma was such a wonderful woman. She got up early every morning, she always put her face on (makeup), spent her days working, watching her grandkids and taking care of her ex husband and live in son. My grandma was amazing. She had no money but she didn’t let us know that. She did things like save up pennys so we could walk to Kmart and buy puzzles or give us quarters for the ice cream truck. At holidays she always had tons of gifts for us but we didn’t know that they were put on lay away and took months of hard earned money to pay off. I hate that I never got the chance to grow up and take care of her. I would loved to have payed for her dinners or bought her groceries or done anything to make her day a little easier.

My point here is that the missing is never going to go away. It was never right for people to tell me that I was over reacting with her death. So again I beg you. Please find out about those you love while they are still alive and able to love. Because the one thing you will miss the most of all when they are gone is simply the loving.

So I realized in my earlier baby blogged I briefly glossed over the subject of my sons birth. I’ve decided to tell you the whole real story of how that day came to be. Here goes nothing folks. Here is how it went.

July 22nd ish. I go see the doctor for my now weekly check ups.

Shannon: Am I dilated yet?

Doctor: No

Shannon: I’m ready to not be pregnant any more doctor how much longer till you can just get him out?

Doctor: I don’t know at least until your due date wait till then and we will talk about it.

Shannon: Whatever I thought you liked me. You do realize its 500 degrees outside don’t you? Doesn’t your office have air conditioning whatever I’ll see you in a week mean doctor.

July 29th is: I go to the doctor. This is after my third week of hearing I am not even kind of dilated.

Nurse: Do you even want an exam today or do you want to just wait

Shannon: (Turning bright read and about to rip the red hair right out of this bitches head) YES I WANT A FUCKING EXAM WHY WOULD I HAVE COME HERE IF I DIDN’T? I DIDN’T COME HERE JUST TO SEE YOU

Nurse: I’ll get the doctor

Shannon: (gives death eyes to nurse until she has left the room)

Doctor: Now Shannon you need to be nice to my staff

Shannon: Whatever I’ll be nice when you say I’m getting this kid out

Doctor: Lets do your exam

Shannon: Am I dilated yet

Doctor: I’ll tell you what to be nice we will say you are dilated 1” but really you aren’t even that.

Shannon: Doctor get this kid out I’m not playing around anymore.

Doctor: Okay fine we will do an ultrasound and see how he is coming along and then we will discuss it.

Shannon: Yeah that’s right we will discuss it

Later that day I have an ultrasound and I get to see my little guys mushed up nose (which I could already tell was totally Filipino) and his little man parts again. Doctor says we can schedule the C-Section for Monday his due date because it looks like this kid will be big and I probably won’t be able to deliver. FINE BY ME.

So I’m driving home and no joke its about 500 degrees out. In fact it is so hot that my ultrasound photos turn black in the car. I have a minor melt down over this and call everyone I know crying while desperately trying to hold them up the them air conditioning I my car.

Now wait before you yell at me that I took the easy way out I want to say something. Are you a mom? If so then you know that being a mom comes after the kid is born not from pushing them out. Also when was the last time you had your guts pulled out and put on your chest and then had 20 staples in your belly and were told you couldn’t get out of bed or eat food for 2 days? YEAH THAT’S WHAT I THOUGHT SO SHUT IT.

Anyway I call everyone and tell them about the news that we will be having Brandon Monday August 1st 2005 at 4:00 PM. Then I realize holy shit I have to go through a whole weekend knowing that I’m about to have a baby. Whoah. Oh ya did I mention that he hadn’t dropped down at all so I also got to spend a whole weekend in pain of having him sit right in that spot that hurts like hell.

SATURDAY

Wake up run to babies room and check that baby bag is packed. It is. Check that all of his onsies are folded and organized by size, color and how much I like them.

Have some lunch and then panic wondering why I didn’t pack pants and a jacket for his hospital bag in case it snows in August in the 800-degree weather. I immediately run to the baby room pull out the entire contents of the baby bag and resort it all this time adding a matching onsie, pants, jacket, hat and booties. I then reorganize the bag into a way that makes far more sense then the previous time.

Run to bedroom to check out mommy bag. Immediately unpack and repack bag and then decide I better run to Wal-Mart and buy some new pajamas and other random unnecessary stuff. At Wal-Mart I find about 30 baby things I realized I had forgotten and can’t live with out. Rush home to unpack and repack baby bag with all new baby items in a much better order then before. Double check all new baby clothes are washed, ironed and hung according to color, size and likability in his drawers and closet.

Get bored and take myself to Burlington coat factory and look at baby clothes. Purchase brand new bringing baby home outfit and rush home to wash it and repack baby bag with new outfit on top.

Decide I need to buy baby diapers and rush out to buy one pack of Luvs new born diapers. (Note to new moms. Do not do this, 1. They give you a pack of awesome Pampers in the hospital, 2. You shouldn’t purchase shit till you have the kid and find out what really actually works.)

Finally I decide to have some dinner and write a letter to my unborn child. I am bored out of my mind. Doze off to sleep, wake up to pee 8,000 times, groan about being uncomfortable and finally nod back off.

SUNDAY
Wake up immediately pissed off that I can not eat anything for a whole fucking day. DO YOU KNOW THAT TELLING A PREGNANT WOMAN SHE CAN’T EAT IS THE MEANEST MOST EVIL THING YOU CAN DO? I wander around the house looking at all the food I can’t eat and start organizing everything for when the baby comes. Drink my 8th cup of water for the day making sure I soak it all up since I can’t have any after 8PM.

Start calling my doctor names like Hitler and Stalin due to lack of food and his goofy ass rules. Curse at my husband because he is eating and I’m not. Curse some more because he doesn’t stop eating and keeps eating instead of starving with me.

Run in to make sure the baby bag didn’t unpack itself and decide I better double check the contents once more. I unpack it all, lay it on the floor and inspect it all. I finally repack it in a way that is far better then all of the previous ways. Freak out and realize I should pack a blanket for the baby to come home in. Double check that the car seat that has been installed for two months is still in fact installed in my car and hasn’t been stolen by evil car seat stealing neighbors.

Go inside and see that husband is still eating and now I’m really pissed. Decide I should probably check my bag and make sure that the house is cleaned. I reorganize my bag and pack some stuff for my husband.

Go to sleep and wake up a gazillion times to pee and don’t sleep really any at all.

MONDAY
Wake up and realize that I’m having a baby today. Sit down with husband to have a serious talk with him about the fact that the next time we leave we will be coming home with a baby. Whoah dude.

Start really freaking out about how parched I am and begin cursing the devil doctor for leaving me starving and thirsty.

Get bored and decide to go rearrange the babies room and make sure its all ready for when he comes. The baby bag catches my eye and I decide it might be a good idea to look at it with fresh eyes and make sure its really packed right. Unpack and repack it in a way that makes far better sense then last time.

Finalllllly 2:00 rolls around and we get to go to the hospital. On the way there my husband thinks that he is really funny and stops at Mcdonalds for lunch. I ponder the idea of divorcing him on the day that our son is born. We arrive at the hospital and my husband goes into the waiting room with his tail between his legs to enjoy his delicious French fries with out getting the death stare from his wife.

I get admitted to a room and family starts trickling in. First my grandpa comes and then my grandma. They immediately separate into different areas of waiting rooms as they can’t be around each other unless it is to say negative things about each other. Cousin and her daughter arrive just in time to find grandparents have indeed found some family to bash (actually they were bashing her) and she asks them to be adults just this one day.

Evil insane mean Hitler nurse comes in and informs me that I need to be shaved better then I am. Proceeds to RIP a dry bic over my private region numerous times until I explain that if she doesn’t leave the room I will be stuffing that hair up her nose. Look down at my now puffy, red and spotted girly area and begin cursing the doctor for not letting me do that at home WITH SHAVING CREAM PEOPLE.

Next nurse comes in and I beg for a drink of water. She comes back with the worlds smallest cup and says it isn’t water but I can drink it. I leap for the midget cup guzzling down the contents before I realize she has given me liquid gasoline mixed with whiskey and urine. Not really, actually it was some sort of crap that was supposed to make me not puke when they gave me the IV.

In comes big mean nurse with a stick up her ass. Tells me it is time for my IV. Jams needle into arm making me curse and cry at the same time. Proceeds to tape it down so its pressed so far into my veins that my skin is actually wrinkled and stretched under the piece of tape that she has slapped on me with no regard whatsoever for how I feel.

Finally they say that it is time to have my son. I say goodbye to all of my family and begin walking down the hall in my little gown the the sterile OR room.

Errrrrrrrrrrrrr (that’s break noises)
“sorry miss but you have to go back to your room the doctor hasn’t made it yet”

WHAT. I sit back in my bed twiddling my thumbs cursing the doctor for doing that to me.

Again we make the march down the hall to the room and we see the doctor so I know this time it is for reals. I get put up on a bed and they tell me that I’m going to get the needle in my back. I get strapped down with each arm laying out like I’m on a cross and covered in blankets. After a mild panic attack the wonderful anesthesiologist pricks me in the back and it feels about the same as possibly a bee sting, if it was even that bad. All I know is he had just shoved a needle in my back and it hurt less then the evil nurse whores idea of an IV. He rolls me over and the doctor informs me that he is already cutting me open. WHAT. Its been about 4 seconds. My husband at this time decides to stand up and look over the curtain. He turns green and makes a face that makes me go
WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING WHY DO YOU LOOK LIKE THAT.

Suddenly about 36 seconds later the doctor says I will feel some pressure in my chest. It feels like someone is tugging on my lungs a little and all the sudden I hear WAAAAAAAAAAAA. I start crying screaming is that my baby crying is that my baby crying, is he crying, is that crying? It was, he was, he was cryng woooooooo yes he was alive. At this point my husband looks back over the curtain just in time to see the doctor pull out the placenta. I’m pretty sure that he puked a little in his mouth. They continued to sew me up while I tried to get a side glance at my little boy. Finally they gave him to my husband with a nose sucky thing and said to suck the gunk out of his nose and mouth. Rob hold Brandon up to me and shows him to me and then gets all wierded out about the nose sucky thing.

Nurse lady comes and scoops baby from us to give him a bath and Rob runs after to watch every single moment with my son because we can’t trust anyone with a baby as beautiful as him. I passed out I guess and woke up to a lady saying move your toe. Okay wiggle wiggle. I did good they brought me my baby. He got about 3 feet away and I said some kind of nonsense and the little guys mouth was sucking mid air. He latched on immediately and I was totally in awwww.

finally we are taken to my new room and I realize that Luvs are horrible and Pampers swaddlers newborns are the best diapers on the planet. (Again this is why I don’t advise wasting money until you know.) I am stuck in bed for two days and not allowed to have a freaking drink of water for nearly 4 more hours. Finally I get my baby, I get my water and I get to relax….For about 20 minutes. Then I learn what parenting is all about.