When giving meds to a dog, you have to drop it in, hold their mouth shut, and blow in their face. If that doesn't demonstrate that medicine is "yucky", then I don't know what does.
Our little miss has gotten her first ear infection. Does that warrant a celebration? It almost sounds like a momentous occasion. She is now officially inaugurated into the ear infection community. She will use her membership card on NUMEROUS occasions, I'm sure. To celebrate, pink drinks are shared with everyone.
I remember, when I was little, that my mom and I called something "the pink stuff". I now have a bottle of "the pink stuff" in my fridge. My mom told me that both me and my brother hated taking the ammoxa-whatever and that is was a mess every time she tried to get us to swallow it. "Oh no", I thought. "This should be fun."
Last night, Jamie and I were contemplating exactly how to time everything. Bath and PJs were obvious - those weren't an issue. But then what? She needed her nose squeegeed which is a horrible experience; Jamie holds her head down while I stick the thinger up her nose to suck out the boogies. She screams bloody murder. She also needed to take the meds, which wasn't going to go over well either. We decided on Bath, PJs, suction, meds, bottle, bed.
When we got to the meds, I had Jamie hold her while I went to squirt it in. Wouldn't you know, she wrapped her lips around it and sucked the stuff out?! Not only does our daughter love drinking formula and eating "nanners", she apparently is also such a fan of eating that she'll get excited over "the pink stuff". This morning, when I gave it to her again, she actually cried when it was empty and I took it away! What a silly little girl!
Ten days from now the pediatrician will take a new peek in her ear, and of course it'll be all better. I wonder if she can give us a permanent prescription? When all else fails, it seems a squirt of that stuff does the trick!
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Monday, February 23, 2009
teenie weenie bikini...
It feels like summer is right around the corner. With summer comes swimming. Omi and Opi have a pool and they live a couple of miles away -- you better believe that the little Rich family will be frequenting the pool regularly. (Ripley and Rambo are welcome to come as well, though Rambo is the only pup fond of the water, and he needs a life vest. Oh yes, we own a pug life vest complete with handle to pull him out if need be.) No membership needed, naked baby welcome.
While naked is an option, an even better, and more hygienic, option is to plop her into an adorable bathing suit, complete with water diaper, and let her bask in the sun that way. (Speaking of basking, you better believe the little one will be coated head to toe with SPF 1000 sunscreen a half hour before swimming, as per the instructions that no one follows.) She already has one piece bathing suits that were gifts from others. Too cute for words - I can only imagine those rolls and folds hanging out for all to see. If only they were cute as an adult too. They were purchased and gifted before she was born - the "little" chunker is wearing 9 month clothes at 6 months - I have no idea what size she'll wear in June.
While the one pieces are nice, I'm thinking two pieces are the way to go. Even as an adult, if you have to use the restroom and choose, appropriately, to actually get out of the water to do so, pulling a wet one piece off is no easy task. Now imagine that you're changing a squiggling baby out of a wet bathing suit to change their diaper. That can't be easy! If she had a two piece, however, that would be more convenient, I imagine.
I've scoped out Old Navy, and check out the sweet suit they have available! Perfection! Diaper contained in bottoms but a top to stay discreet. That, of course, is silly. If a woman wears a string bikini, they need to have a necessary endowment to keep the top in place. I can only imagine that on little Alexis, since there is nothing to fill those things in, the top will be all over the place. Eventually she'll be left with the halter around her neck and two fabric triangles dangling under her armpit.
But of course, I'm sold on the concept of a string bikini on a baby. Once I get a sense of how big she'll be, I will surely be placing an order in late winter. They also have a yellow bandeau and a fruit printed tankini (which is more likely to stay put, I imagine).
Practical? Absolutely not! Required for our amusement? Absolutely!
While naked is an option, an even better, and more hygienic, option is to plop her into an adorable bathing suit, complete with water diaper, and let her bask in the sun that way. (Speaking of basking, you better believe the little one will be coated head to toe with SPF 1000 sunscreen a half hour before swimming, as per the instructions that no one follows.) She already has one piece bathing suits that were gifts from others. Too cute for words - I can only imagine those rolls and folds hanging out for all to see. If only they were cute as an adult too. They were purchased and gifted before she was born - the "little" chunker is wearing 9 month clothes at 6 months - I have no idea what size she'll wear in June.
While the one pieces are nice, I'm thinking two pieces are the way to go. Even as an adult, if you have to use the restroom and choose, appropriately, to actually get out of the water to do so, pulling a wet one piece off is no easy task. Now imagine that you're changing a squiggling baby out of a wet bathing suit to change their diaper. That can't be easy! If she had a two piece, however, that would be more convenient, I imagine.
I've scoped out Old Navy, and check out the sweet suit they have available! Perfection! Diaper contained in bottoms but a top to stay discreet. That, of course, is silly. If a woman wears a string bikini, they need to have a necessary endowment to keep the top in place. I can only imagine that on little Alexis, since there is nothing to fill those things in, the top will be all over the place. Eventually she'll be left with the halter around her neck and two fabric triangles dangling under her armpit.
But of course, I'm sold on the concept of a string bikini on a baby. Once I get a sense of how big she'll be, I will surely be placing an order in late winter. They also have a yellow bandeau and a fruit printed tankini (which is more likely to stay put, I imagine).
Practical? Absolutely not! Required for our amusement? Absolutely!
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
nanner, nanner, naaaaner
Wow - has it really been over 10 days since my last post? Jamie tells me that I'm losing readers by doing that, and I fear that it really is the case. I'm back though and have not given up - I promise!
Alexis is a piglet, plain and simple. She's not old enough to develop a complex by me saying that, so for now I do not need to fear her catching a severe case of body dismorphic disorder. At 5.5 months old, she is almost 20 pounds. No petite princess by far.
A piglet needs her nutrition to maintain that incredibly curvaceous figure, and she is definitely not lacking an appetite. Last week, she began her adventure into the land of rice and fruit. The teachers at Goddard offered to start her on the rice cereal - probably in an effort to keep her full longer, hence needing to feed her less (a blessing when you have 9 babies to juggle, I'm sure). I was told that while she had the initial adverse reaction as most infants do, she proceeded to polish off approx 2 oz of runny rice cereal.
On Saturday, I decided that I too would attempt to get her to wolf down some grub...if they can do it then so can I! Not so much. She was freaking out and wanted nothing to do with it. After two icky faces, I gave up. Maybe fruit? I went out and perused the wall of baby food. I came across organic stage 1 food that was intended for 4 mo and up. Perfect. Banana, pear, and apple came home with me.
Apple didn't go over well, but I realized that I gave up too soon. The next day, I tried the bananas. For some reason bananas are a light pink color when processed, but whatever. I stuck to it, and wouldn't you know it, she wanted to eat it! We were eating "nanners"!! (bananas for you non-babbling folks)
Feeling that I was encouraging good eating habits, I allowed her to "help" me. She grabbed the spoon of goopy nanners, shoved it in her mouth (I had to hang on tight to make sure she didn't choke herself) and she sort of slopped it down. Half the spoonful in her belly, the other half everywhere else. In letting her "help" me, she had nanners on her hands, which then caused it to venture onto her shirt, pants, seat, etc. She ate the other half of the nanners the next day, and same thing...everywhere!
I've decided that someone needs to invent a full-body bib. There are larger bibs out there, but nothing can stop that sloppy sticky hand from smearing her face and clothes. Perhaps something like petite waders for fishing would be appropriate? Or maybe we strip her down to eat? That habit would need to end in time though...being naked to eat in the toddler room would not go over well.
We have sweet potatoes, pears, apples, and carrots waiting in the cabinet for her now. Three days between each new kind to make sure she doesn't swell up (more then she already is) due to an allergic reaction. I'm more concerned about the color of the sweet potatoes and carrots. If nanners are pink and messy, I can't wait to see the staying (and staining) power of those carotene munchies. I have pictures of baby-meets-nanners ready to post in the next day or so. I'll be sure to take more pictures should my little one be permanently stained orange. Let's hope the organics truly are organic...no artificial coloring should mean no artificially orange baby.
Alexis is a piglet, plain and simple. She's not old enough to develop a complex by me saying that, so for now I do not need to fear her catching a severe case of body dismorphic disorder. At 5.5 months old, she is almost 20 pounds. No petite princess by far.
A piglet needs her nutrition to maintain that incredibly curvaceous figure, and she is definitely not lacking an appetite. Last week, she began her adventure into the land of rice and fruit. The teachers at Goddard offered to start her on the rice cereal - probably in an effort to keep her full longer, hence needing to feed her less (a blessing when you have 9 babies to juggle, I'm sure). I was told that while she had the initial adverse reaction as most infants do, she proceeded to polish off approx 2 oz of runny rice cereal.
On Saturday, I decided that I too would attempt to get her to wolf down some grub...if they can do it then so can I! Not so much. She was freaking out and wanted nothing to do with it. After two icky faces, I gave up. Maybe fruit? I went out and perused the wall of baby food. I came across organic stage 1 food that was intended for 4 mo and up. Perfect. Banana, pear, and apple came home with me.
Apple didn't go over well, but I realized that I gave up too soon. The next day, I tried the bananas. For some reason bananas are a light pink color when processed, but whatever. I stuck to it, and wouldn't you know it, she wanted to eat it! We were eating "nanners"!! (bananas for you non-babbling folks)
Feeling that I was encouraging good eating habits, I allowed her to "help" me. She grabbed the spoon of goopy nanners, shoved it in her mouth (I had to hang on tight to make sure she didn't choke herself) and she sort of slopped it down. Half the spoonful in her belly, the other half everywhere else. In letting her "help" me, she had nanners on her hands, which then caused it to venture onto her shirt, pants, seat, etc. She ate the other half of the nanners the next day, and same thing...everywhere!
I've decided that someone needs to invent a full-body bib. There are larger bibs out there, but nothing can stop that sloppy sticky hand from smearing her face and clothes. Perhaps something like petite waders for fishing would be appropriate? Or maybe we strip her down to eat? That habit would need to end in time though...being naked to eat in the toddler room would not go over well.
We have sweet potatoes, pears, apples, and carrots waiting in the cabinet for her now. Three days between each new kind to make sure she doesn't swell up (more then she already is) due to an allergic reaction. I'm more concerned about the color of the sweet potatoes and carrots. If nanners are pink and messy, I can't wait to see the staying (and staining) power of those carotene munchies. I have pictures of baby-meets-nanners ready to post in the next day or so. I'll be sure to take more pictures should my little one be permanently stained orange. Let's hope the organics truly are organic...no artificial coloring should mean no artificially orange baby.
Friday, February 6, 2009
can't...give...in...
When you are a baby, there must be very interesting things going on in the world at every moment. You can't fall asleep - you might miss something! Eyelids so heavy that blinking looks like it takes gym membership to keep it going. Head bobs to where the chin almost touches the chest, but then bounces back up with such vigor that you wonder just how strong that little neck must be to swing around such an enormous head.
Sometimes the little miss becomes very mellow, staring off into far away places that only she can see, and then drifts off into a comfortable little cat nap. That tends to occur when she's curled up nicely under her bear blanket, TV is on in the background, and mom or dad are sitting next to or holding her close. Then, sleep is bliss - what better place to be then warm and cozy with a parent?
But then there are the other times. The times where she desperately wants to stay awake and nothing is going to get in her way. If there were a sandman, then her cries would be her dire attempt to scare him away.
I've seen three stages:
Stage 1: An annoying sounding whining. Tends to be a droning, repetitive complaint. Eye rubbing begins. If baby is sitting in something, it will turn it's head to the side and sort of rub it on the seat. Face smearing is apparently our way of showing we're sleepy. Next time I'm tired at work, I'll remember to keep from smearing my face on the person next to me in a meeting.
Stage 2: Complaints become louder. Boo-boo lip comes out, and it's definitely crying versus whining. Crying can be curbed by holding or bouncing, but baby still makes that little gaspy sound here and there (you know which one I mean...the one where they're taking in a few breaths debating when to cry next), and therefore you know that the tears are just hiding, not done.
Stage 3: "F**k you sleep...I bow down to no one!!! Mom, I'm not tired, really, so stop bouncing me around and patting my back!!" Baby viciously expresses their hatred for this thing called sleep. "Listen, Sleep, I whined, and you wouldn't leave me alone...I cried, and you wouldn't leave me alone. Now you're going to get it!" It's a fruitless effort at this point. "Ssssshhhh", you tell the baby. "It's ok...just take a nap." Sounds rational enough to you. Now how do you convince the baby? Eventually, the baby can't handle it and crashes into a deep sleep.
Next time I'm tired, I'm going to sit on the couch next to Jamie while we watch the movie. I'm going to whine to him a few times that "I'm tired" and smear my face on his hoody, then I'm going to shed a tear or two, and once that doesn't make a difference, I'm just going to scream. Period. Maybe it'll feel good. Maybe babies are on to something... There must be a reason to fight sleep with all your might. Is there something beautiful about to happen that we might miss? Next time she's screaming, I'll chime right in and keep my eyes pealed...
Sometimes the little miss becomes very mellow, staring off into far away places that only she can see, and then drifts off into a comfortable little cat nap. That tends to occur when she's curled up nicely under her bear blanket, TV is on in the background, and mom or dad are sitting next to or holding her close. Then, sleep is bliss - what better place to be then warm and cozy with a parent?
But then there are the other times. The times where she desperately wants to stay awake and nothing is going to get in her way. If there were a sandman, then her cries would be her dire attempt to scare him away.
I've seen three stages:
Stage 1: An annoying sounding whining. Tends to be a droning, repetitive complaint. Eye rubbing begins. If baby is sitting in something, it will turn it's head to the side and sort of rub it on the seat. Face smearing is apparently our way of showing we're sleepy. Next time I'm tired at work, I'll remember to keep from smearing my face on the person next to me in a meeting.
Stage 2: Complaints become louder. Boo-boo lip comes out, and it's definitely crying versus whining. Crying can be curbed by holding or bouncing, but baby still makes that little gaspy sound here and there (you know which one I mean...the one where they're taking in a few breaths debating when to cry next), and therefore you know that the tears are just hiding, not done.
Stage 3: "F**k you sleep...I bow down to no one!!! Mom, I'm not tired, really, so stop bouncing me around and patting my back!!" Baby viciously expresses their hatred for this thing called sleep. "Listen, Sleep, I whined, and you wouldn't leave me alone...I cried, and you wouldn't leave me alone. Now you're going to get it!" It's a fruitless effort at this point. "Ssssshhhh", you tell the baby. "It's ok...just take a nap." Sounds rational enough to you. Now how do you convince the baby? Eventually, the baby can't handle it and crashes into a deep sleep.
Next time I'm tired, I'm going to sit on the couch next to Jamie while we watch the movie. I'm going to whine to him a few times that "I'm tired" and smear my face on his hoody, then I'm going to shed a tear or two, and once that doesn't make a difference, I'm just going to scream. Period. Maybe it'll feel good. Maybe babies are on to something... There must be a reason to fight sleep with all your might. Is there something beautiful about to happen that we might miss? Next time she's screaming, I'll chime right in and keep my eyes pealed...
Monday, February 2, 2009
multiplicity...
This morning, about 10 minutes prior to us running out of the house to head to daycare (remember the post about babies and their time tables?), I walked past the little one and "whoa"!! The dogs were laying close by, but there is a distinct difference between the scent of them passing gas and the little one making a stink. My scurrying has been interrupted and I now need to slow down and change the reeking girl.
I lift her out of her bouncy seat, sit her on my hip, and walk toward her room. As we're walking, I realize that she feel a little wet. Oh no. That can't be good. I put her down, unbutton both of her onesies (yes, there are two), pull off her tights, and realize that inside of her black tights, there is a nice big blob of wet poo. I now regret the adorable outfit that I had put on her...not because it had gotten messy, but because it was a pain to change her out of. I had layered black knit tights, a white longs leeved onesie, and then a short sleeved onesie which was emblazoned with a patch of a bright red heart and crossbones. A matching patch was on her hiney. Luckily the tights had caught everything and I didn't have to worry about creatively pulling it off to prevent getting poo in her hair .
I start cleaning her up, and as I make progress on one butt-cheek, suddenly there's some on her thigh. I move to her thigh, and suddenly there's some on her calf...it wasn't there a second ago! I get it off of her calf, and suddenly there's some on her tummy. My God...it's multiplying! Body part to body part, I get one piece clean as another one gets dirty. I wasn't making any progress, I had yet to pull out a new and equally adorable outfit, and the clock was ticking away. Stop squirming around, little girl! She, of course, is sporting an adorable smile and is making all sorts of chatter.
What did I learn during this poop laden morning? That sometimes you just need to slow down. It's ok if I get to work 10 minutes later then usual. It's ok to take a second to pet the pups and give them kisses. It's ok to giggle with my daughter as the is sprawled on the changing table, tickled by the fact that mommy is telling her she's stinky. Granted, I didn't have a choice but to stop and change her, lest she be the smelly kid in class, but, while at the moment it seemed inconvenient, I had a few more minutes to enjoy with her, which makes my Monday morning feel a little less like a Monday. Poop away little girl...poop away.
I lift her out of her bouncy seat, sit her on my hip, and walk toward her room. As we're walking, I realize that she feel a little wet. Oh no. That can't be good. I put her down, unbutton both of her onesies (yes, there are two), pull off her tights, and realize that inside of her black tights, there is a nice big blob of wet poo. I now regret the adorable outfit that I had put on her...not because it had gotten messy, but because it was a pain to change her out of. I had layered black knit tights, a white longs leeved onesie, and then a short sleeved onesie which was emblazoned with a patch of a bright red heart and crossbones. A matching patch was on her hiney. Luckily the tights had caught everything and I didn't have to worry about creatively pulling it off to prevent getting poo in her hair .
I start cleaning her up, and as I make progress on one butt-cheek, suddenly there's some on her thigh. I move to her thigh, and suddenly there's some on her calf...it wasn't there a second ago! I get it off of her calf, and suddenly there's some on her tummy. My God...it's multiplying! Body part to body part, I get one piece clean as another one gets dirty. I wasn't making any progress, I had yet to pull out a new and equally adorable outfit, and the clock was ticking away. Stop squirming around, little girl! She, of course, is sporting an adorable smile and is making all sorts of chatter.
What did I learn during this poop laden morning? That sometimes you just need to slow down. It's ok if I get to work 10 minutes later then usual. It's ok to take a second to pet the pups and give them kisses. It's ok to giggle with my daughter as the is sprawled on the changing table, tickled by the fact that mommy is telling her she's stinky. Granted, I didn't have a choice but to stop and change her, lest she be the smelly kid in class, but, while at the moment it seemed inconvenient, I had a few more minutes to enjoy with her, which makes my Monday morning feel a little less like a Monday. Poop away little girl...poop away.
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