Cry-It-Out

1.  Carolyn woke up at her usual time again last night.  I swear, she's got an internal alarm.  And again, she didn't cry.  She just talked.  REALLY LOUDLY.  For like 20 minutes.  When I went in to "calm her down", she was ready to have a full conversation.  How are you supposed to practice the cry-it-out method when the baby isn't crying?  But, crying or not, she still wakes me up.  In the end, Husband went in, gave her her paci and then came back to bed and went straight back to sleep.  I was awake for at least another hour and then woke up every 20-30 minutes after that even though the baby was asleep.

2.  The daycare gave me a piece of paper yesterday saying they needed me to bring diapers for Carolyn.  Um.  I brought 108 of them on Monday (marked with her name).  And according to the daily report papers I've gotten, only 15 of them should be gone.  What happened to the other 93?

3.  Carolyn has changed already since Monday.  She is so much more smiley when we get home.  I think it's mostly because it's really the only true interaction she gets during the day.  And that makes me unhappy.  But the smiles and laughs crack me up.

4.  Carolyn is sick.  Again.  It seems like she's been perpetually sick since the middle of October.  Today she joined the legion of daycare kids with green snot running out of their noses.  I wish there was a way for me to keep her home for a couple of weeks to get her 100% well.

5.  The Tummy Toucher ran me down in the parking lot the other day - literally, ran me down...I was running away from her.  On purpose.  She said her mother is flying in for a few weeks and she really wants me to meet her and she really wants her mom to meet the baby.  Ok.  Um.  I really wonder what it's like to live in her world.  Because for the nine millionth time, we are not friends.  NOT FRIENDS.  Like I'm not even friendly toward her anymore.  And even if I were, I don't want her alcoholic mother around my child nor do I want to spend my Sunday afternoon entertaining her mother and her two destructive children at my home.

6.  I think Husband and I have made the decision to go ahead and drop our health insurance.  We're paying $400/month in premiums right now and only using it for Carolyn's well-baby visits.  If we went on Husband's insurance, we'd be paying $550-600 in premiums.  We're thinking about just putting that money in a savings account and paying cash for medical expenses.  Oh, and getting a little catastrophic insurance plan just in case.

7.  One of my secret admirers left a gift of hot chocolate on my desk this morning.  I'm thrilled.  On top of that, the Interim Big Boss brought me a Chick-Fil-A breakfast biscuit.  It really doesn't get better than that.

8.  They're calling animal control to come pick up the feral cats tomorrow.  Yesterday a lady came to pick up my three favorite cats to take to her house.  I kept telling the Small Orange that he was going to a place where they'd be nice to him.   Yes, I cried.  It was like giving up my child.

9.  If anyone wants a Christmas massage, I'm now working Saturdays at Tina's Heavenly Touch.  They also do mani/pedis there.  It's a newly refurbished salon with lots of nail techs/massage therapists that are trying to build clientele.  Oh, and they do gift certificates for all of those teacher/bus driver/babysitter gifts you feel obligated to give out.

Deep Breathing

1.  The pick up at the daycare last night was so much better.  I was welcomed with a clean, happy baby, and the usual supervisor of the infant room, whom I really like.  Although I'd still rather not have Carolyn in a daycare at all, I don't feel quite so anxious today.

2.  I'm pretty sure I have the cutest baby in the world.  Because, I mean, I see those other babies at daycare and here's the deal:  most of them are not attractive.  Except the little black babies.  In my mind, there's nothing cuter than black babies.  Or Asian ones.  I know, so not politically correct, but true none-the-less.

3.  Carolyn woke up at 3 this morning after sleeping through the night for the past three nights.  She didn't wake up crying, she was just chatting.  With herself.  Loudly.  After about 20 minutes, I went in her room to help her go back to sleep.  But she wasn't ready to sleep.  She was ready to party.

4.  The one good thing about daycare is that they've put Carolyn in a little jumper chair and she LOVES it.  I brought her home and put her in her jump-jump and she's finally started bouncing around a little bit.  It's the cutest thing ever.

5.  It's 2.5 weeks until Christmas.  I still have no gift ideas for Husband.  Oh, and there aren't any decorations up either.  I thought about it really hard last night but didn't do anything about it.

6.  There was a 20-something-band-geek-looking kid standing on the corner on my way home from work last night holding a sign that read, "Homeless, Please Help".  It was about 40 degrees, the wind was blowing, and it was starting to rain.  It was cold.  He was wearing a t-shirt.  I just happened to have an extra sweatshirt in my car I gave him.  As I drove away, I thought about what it means to be charitable.  And then I realized that I'm totally not.  Because had it been my BYU sweatshirt, he would have had to go on being cold. 

7.  I asked at the daycare if I could leave my car seat under the table in the front.  They said I could but to make sure Carolyn's name was on it because they have "a lot of sticky fingers" around there.  Seriously?  How low would you have to go to steal a baby's car seat?  It's like stealing an old lady's walker.

8.  The shake-up continues here at work.  It cracks me up to see how puffed-up these men get when they explain and re-explain their importance.

9.  Today is Husband's last day of school this semester.   I am so thrilled.

10.  The weather is cold enough today that I was able to wear my very favorite sweater.  It's red wool.  I've had it since 2003.  Of course, by Friday, it should be warm enough to wear shorts again.

Am I Overreacting?

Yesterday, after literally worrying myself sick about Carolyn at daycare, I dropped by around 5:30 to pick her up.

I was relieved to see her - she seemed to be ok.

Upon closer inspection, I realized she had the wrong pacifier in her mouth.

The baby next to her had her clearly marked paci instead.

Strike One.

The daycare worker handed me a bag with Carolyn's dirty bottles in it.

Except only half of them were hers.

The other half weren't marked.

Strike Two.

Then I picked up my child.

And found that she was covered head-to-toe in dried spit-up.

On her face.

And her hands.

And her shirt.

Her shirt and bib were soaking wet.

Strike Three.

LIVID does not begin to describe how I felt.

I mean, I think I'm a semi-rational person.

I understand that there are a lot of babies to be taken care of.

I understand that my baby spits up more than all the other babies combined.

But come on.

I'd brought extra clothes for her.

How hard is it to change her?

I'd brought extra burp rags for her.

How hard is it to wipe her face?

I'm not even asking you to hold her and love her.

I'm just asking that you keep her semi-clean and free of bodily-fluid crust.

You wouldn't leave spilled milk curd on your own shirt, would you? Or on your face?  Or on your hands?

I talked to one of the workers about it this morning and she acted like it was no big deal stating that sometimes things just get so crazy when it's busy and the usual staff isn't in the rooms.

So tell me, am I overreacting to want to pull her out of that daycare as soon as possible? 

Is this normal?

I've made up my mind to give them until Friday to straighten up.

If they don't, it's on to Plan F.  Not that I have a Plan F, but I've already been through Plans A-E.

Needless to say, I can't concentrate on anything at work today.

I just want to go get my baby, take her home, snuggle her, and tell her how sorry I am.

Why Can't It Be Different?

I vomited at 3 am this morning.

Nerves.

I had to drop Carolyn off at daycare for the first time today.

It almost broke my heart.

She was the fifth baby in a room with one childcare worker.

One of the other babies had green snot running out of her nose.

Awesome.

The childcare worker called her a "chunky baby".

I wanted to say, "She's not chunky!  She just has a giant head and that makes her look bigger than she really is!"

As if having a giant head is soooo much more desirable in a baby than being chunky.

On the way out, the daycare owner called me "Honey Darlin' Baby".

Really, she did.

Over the weekend, I did a couple of massages at a local spa.

Including one on the owner.

It was supposed to be 30 minutes but turned into 90.

I think that's a good sign.

I'm going to give the part-time massage job a go over Christmas vacation to see if I really can make enough money to quit my job with insurance benefits (and be able to stay home a bit more).

It would be a huge leap of faith.

And practicing faith generally makes me sick to my stomach.