#tillythemenace

I’m going to jump right into this one:

I’m considering Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu lessons for the following reasons:

a)    So as to avoid child services being called on me while I change my baby’s diaper in public. Let’s just say my child once ended up in the sink of a restaurant butt ass naked while I tried to collect the trail of both clean and dirty diaper, wipes, diaper cream, etc. she left behind. 

b)   Cutting her nails should take 5 minutes, not an hour. If I could only master the art of leg-locks…

c)    Putting a Band-Aid on her fingers leaves me looking like I’ve just come out of a Spartacus episode.

I’ve said this before and I’ll say it again…doing any of the above activities is like watching a nature show: Man vs. Alligator except it’s more like Mommy vs. Baby. You watch it, and all you think is, “I sure as hell don’t ever want to try that.”

Welcome to my life…

Allow me to elaborate: I’ve been thinking of possible business endeavors now that I’m a stay-at-home mo. Amongst them is starting a Mommy and Me Jiu-Jitsu Academy, ‘cause if your child is anything like mine Mommy and Me Yoga doesn’t even fall within the realm of possibilities. My child’s energy level literally goes from 0 – 10. That is, she’s either sleeping or in constant motion. I take Matilda to weekly Gymboree classes and even there, a place where kids can roam free, I have to restrain her to prevent her from bulldozing over all the other playing kids. I have that kid. Granted, I love the fact that my child is energetic, but sometimes it can get to be a little much…

On our first day at Gymboree, Matilda managed to shed blood within five minutes of our arrival. Her excitement was such that she decided it was a great time to launch herself into the great uncharted world of walking. Needless to say, she face-planted right into the carpet and bit her lip. Luckily, at that very moment she saw another baby arrive and forgot all about her injury.

During some point in the class, all the smiling, starry-eyed mommies are asked to gather in a big circle to play with our little ones. The teacher then goes on to tell us to sit our precious ones on our laps for a round of stimulating activities. We all comply and soon we’re chanting “Trot Trot to London,” except that while all the other mommies managed to stay in their place with their babies happily bouncing on their laps, I was getting my daily cardio fix trying to keep up with my child, the miniature bulldozer. Now, it’s one thing for other mommies to ask me, “Is she always so energetic?” and drop comments like, “Wow, she sure does like to bounce.” But when the Gymboree teacher starts making remarks like, “Matilda, how old are you? You’re just so upright and full of life,” (translation: why won't you stay still kid?) you know shit is on a whole other level.

I know what many of you are thinking, so let me clarify: I DO NOT give my child sugar. For that simple reason, you can all probably understand my dreaded fear of the inevitable: Birthday Parties. I’m actually considering telling Matilda she is deathly allergic to sugar, in hopes of maintaining her energy at a “normal” level. Just the thought of Tilly on a sugar rush gives me serious anxiety! But hey, what can I expect when it turns out your husband did the following all before the age of 10:

a)    Was offered a job as a circus act after some Circus person saw him climbing a tree in his front yard. True story.

b)    Lit his house on fire with a plastic bow and arrow. I swear to you…

c)    Was stopped by the police on the highway while driving from one city to another on a mini motorbike…He was 10 years old.

Signs of things to come?!?!?!? I sure as hell hope not! 

Mini Hubs + Bow and Arrow = Burn Baby Burn

Fast forward 30+ years...Babies Beware #tillythemenace

Parents: Paving the way for Birth Control Advocacy

During a recent conversation it was brought to my attention that parents aren’t necessarily the pillars of child bearing promotional efforts. In fact, we tend to be quite the opposite. This observation was no doubt made by a non-parent friend who would like to preserve her chances of actually bearing children one day and apparently we, her parent friends, aren’t helping the cause with all our complaining. My friend is by all means right. Parents complain A LOT. But how else are you supposed to survive the time you spend with your children (which in my case is like 99% of my time), if you can’t blow a little steam when you’re with your adult friends? No parent, or at least none I know, is going to sit on their child’s play-mat and bitch to their kid about how little time they have to themselves as they play with a choo-choo train or sing along with the Mickey Mouse “Hot Dog Dance”.  Quite honestly, when you’re with the little terror you don’t think about anything but preventing the next face plant into the cold tile floor. And that’s the thing, it’s when you finally do by some miracle get away for an adult dinner out that it hits you…Holy shit, I can’t remember the last time I had dinner without Baby Beethoven in the background…let the parental flood gates open…bless the non-parental souls that are with you.

Granted, this dawning truth is not an excuse to use your poor childless friends as verbal punching bags. If anything, we parents should restrain ourselves and let them live on with their fantasies of one day bearing rosy-cheeked, powder-smelling bundles of joy. Buuuuuut…forgive me if I think that giving other childless adults a fair warning about what they’re getting themselves into isn’t such a bad thing. That’s why the oh so subtle “Must be nice…” is nonchalantly thrown in to the conversation when things like going to the gym past 6am, watching an R rated movie, or dare I even mention it…Happy Hour...is spoken of. But can you blame us? I haven’t gone to the bathroom with the door shut in 8 months, much less had time to “spend a night in with a book and a glass of wine” *cue photo of bubble bath, vino, and book* These facebook statuses make me want to drive over and drop my child right into the bathtub with the bearer of such good fortune. Tilly loves the water; she’d be great company!

Ok, back to my friend and her annoyance at our constant bitching. The truth is, we will never stop doing it. The reason behind this is that until you actually have children you won’t realize how unprepared you actually were to have them. No matter how ready you think you may be, it is impossible to actually fathom how drastically your life changes from one day to the next. With that said if you were to offer me my old life back at this very moment I wouldn’t take it. I wouldn’t even consider it. Babies are exhausting, emotionally and physically. But they truly are the most amazing experience in the world. If any able-minded adult were to sit down and analyze what having children means, they wouldn’t do it. That’s why you just have to take the plunge. Sorry currently baby-less, happy hour going friends, but one day you too will find yourselves at a dinner table venting about your mini-mes and all the things you once did. It just is what it is…and when that day comes, you’ll understand. Until then, drink until 4am and be merry! 

This is what "gettin' cray up in dis b*tch" looks like now...

Reality Bites - w/ special edit

For those of you that look forward to these few and far between posts, this might be an unexpected change in tone. Nevertheless, while having a baby comes with it’s fair share of comedic moments, it also comes littered with a heavy dose of real-life can’t-laugh-my-way-out-of-this moments. Those are the times when the you realize that you’re a grown-ass adult that has to suck it up and deal with all the unexpected cards life has dealt you, sorry for the cliché.

Matilda has been diagnosed with psoriasis. I’m sure several of you have stopped reading and fired up google. Before you pass out at the sight of your search engine results, let me just say, please pay no mind to the images that pop up. At least in our case, the breakout looks like nothing more than a bad diaper rash. But apparently it might be psoriasis: the skin disorder with all the weird commercials on TV. Why am I coming forth with this on my otherwise light-hearted blog you may ask? Well, I promised to create a real and unfiltered depiction of parenthood, so it is what it is.

Throughout my pregnancy my husband and I were adamant about doing things as naturally as possible. I abstained from as many artificial substances as possible, never took medication, etc. Anyways, as month nine came along I started feeling incredibly uncomfortable. What had otherwise been a great pregnancy became a living hell. I needed the baby out, now. So, by week 39 our natural labor birth plan was tossed out the window and HELLO INDUCTION…Nine hours of artificially induced contractions later I was asking for an epidural, three hours after that I was pushing, and an hour later Baby Tills arrived. Only, she wasn’t crying. Turns out Miss Matilda had swallowed fluids during labor; at first we thought this had not presented any complications but on day two of our hospital stay she was admitted into the NICU (Neonatal Intensive Care Unit) where she remained for ten days to run a course of antibiotics. Now, if that’s not the natural method, I don’t know what is. Here’s another myth buster for all you nature-loving freaks (my hubs and I included) out there who believe that if faced with this same situation you would refute your doctors wishes to pump your baby full of meds; you won’t. It doesn’t get any more anti-medicine than my husband, but believe me when they tell you your baby is in danger you will agree to anything. Fast forward ten days and we’re finally home with Matilda. Life is great. Then we take her to her first pediatrician appointment and they tell us she has developed thrush. The antibiotics apparently did a number on her intestinal flora and shut down her immune system, therefore she developed a yeast infection, joy! So we’re told we must now lather her in more antibiotic ointments…as you can see by now, the cycle is never-ending. 

The latest in our list of medical adventures was a stubbornly persistent diaper rash. What we originally thought was an adverse reaction to regular diapers has turned into a full-fledge nightmare. After having again attempted to attack this latest ailment with natural remedies: changing from conventional diapers to wallet-draining hypoallergenic eco-diapers, switching from wipes to water and cotton pads, lathering her in every natural butt balm on the market, soaking her in oatmeal baths, dousing her in pure aloe sap, sprinkling her with corn starch…the list goes on. After having done all of this we tried prescription diaper rash cream, nothing. Finally we were told to see a pediatric dermatologist and voila: a “working diagnosis” of psoriasis! The cause? Either genetic predisposition or an auto immune response to some other ailment or infection. Considering there is no history of psoriasis in either of our families, the answer to our question would be the latter. The culprit: those lovely ten days of meds that caused the yeast infection that sparked the ongoing cycle of, you guessed it, psoriasis.

From what little research I’ve done so far what you tend to find out there on the Internet is pretty scary and not very helpful. I’ve come to realize that when people welcome any word that starts with “ps” into their lives they tend to get crank up the drama factor big time. I refuse to do the same. I’m hoping this latest diagnosis is the last of the few ailments that have sprung up due to the antibiotic treatment she had to undergo upon birth, but one can never be sure. The ironic thing throughout all of this is that Matilda has never once seemed bothered by any of the discomforts that she’s already endured in her mere months on earth. She never complained about her IV as a newborn, nor did she flinch when I had to make her swallow a disgusting syrup to cure the thrush, nor is she fazed by her “diaper rash”. She is, quite literally, the happiest baby I’ve ever met. I’m the one that is flustered and shell-shocked every time I’m told something new has sprung up. In fact, in re-reading this I’ve come to realize that the situation sounds a lot worse than what we’re living. Theoretically, this sucks, especially with this latest surprise; but in actuality we’re doing great and thriving as a family. I don’t foresee that changing. Furthermore, we are told she will most likely outgrow her current condition, and that this could potentially be a severe case of dermatitis eczema. If it is psoriasis this could be something that she might have to deal with her entire life. However, I chose to remain optimistic and hope that she will indeed outgrow it. We’re also not giving up on taking homeopathic preventative measures. I will be sure to update the blog with more info once we embark on that journey. For now, the important thing is to get her current flare-up under control and then we can begin exploring ways to ensure that her skin stays silky smooth and outbreak-free.

The following links are products I have come across and that seem to be good alternative ways to keep the ‘ps’ in check:

http://www.justnaturalskincare.com/Psoriasis/skin-vinegar-body-rinse-natural.html

http://www.arbonne.com/products/baby/set.asp

I’ve also purchased the following Aveeno Baby bath product to add to her tub:

http://www.aveeno.com/baby-care/soothing-bath-treatment

Again, I will report back once I start seeing results. And please, if you know of anyone with a similar situation, please share this post. Positive feedback on this matter is hard to find.

All-in-all, I have to be honest and say that there are days when I’m about ready to file a formal complaint with whomever the f*&% is responsible for handing out the “tough situations” to new parents, ‘cause considering we’re only 6 months in I’m pretty certain we’ve gotten our quota and then some. And while I know we’ve passed all with flying colors (believe me, NO ONE should be sent home from the hospital baby-less; hands down the WORST day of my life) it still doesn’t mean that I don’t envy those moms around me whose idea of a tough situation is that their baby won’t latch onto their boob or isn’t napping as much as they’d like them to. Although, in those cases I must say I’ve more than lucked out with a baby that loves to eat anything you put in front of her and that has slept through the night since she was six weeks old and still does 3 two-hour naps a day. Had to throw in a little shameless bragging, yes I did.

Ultimately, reality bites, but all you have to do is turn around and bitch-slap it right back!

One Happy Baby! 

01/25/13: After much research and a second opinion, it was determined that Matilda's psoriasis is in fact a yeast infection that has spread and yes, developed into a dermatitis/eczema outbreak. With that said, it saddens me that we live in a time when doctor's don't take the time to listen to concerned parents and truly determine what is going on with a baby.
If you or anyone you know is having a similar problem, look for these common signs of a yeast infection:
- bumpy outbreak in the diaper area with red dots/specks 
- irritated and inflamed skin
- baby does NOT seem to complain nor be bothered by the rash (BIG BIG sign that it's yeast!)
- if your baby has ever taken antibiotics they are very prone to developing yeast 

Anyways...now that that scare is over with...back to bitchin' about the trials and tribulations of mommyhood...

The Inevitable Truth

We were once a grown-ass couple. We were independent. We drank, a lot. We dined out, a lot. We spent our money at expensive boutiques. We travelled, a lot. But most of all, we slept in ‘til whatever goddamn time we felt necessary. Then we had a baby…

Nowadays I wake up at 5:30 am, everyday, seven days a week…apparently motherhood has made me a neurotic psycho that can’t seem to sleep past 6:00am. Also, if I wake up at this time I guarantee myself a calm start to the day. I make my baby’s bottle, feed the dog, walk the dog, and make coffee all before my little one starts to squirm. I know it might sound ridiculous, but it’s heavenly. Should I decide to sleep in, my mornings turn into a scene from I Know What You did Last Summer, sans the blood. Just a lot of screaming and frantic running around…

                                                    

But, regardless of whether I wake up at 5:30 am or 7:00 am…things like this seem to happen to me, a lot:

-     You schedule weekly mommy lunches to which you’re, for the most part, surprisingly on time for. This requires a tremendous amount of preparation. But, on more than one occasion you will find yourself stuck in traffic for 1 ½ hours with your baby screaming her/his head off. You will be rendered helpless, and will give in to the urge to cry your eyes out along with your child. I’m sure other drivers will find this quite interesting as you’re stuck in bumper-to-bumper traffic. But you will be mortified and scarred for life.

-      Upon reaching your destination, your child will decide to FINALLY go #2 after days of withholding from the act. Hence/thus/therefore you will have a fecal explosion to deal with in a public bathroom. Other women will give you dirty looks as you rip clothes off your sodden child…Oh, not to mention that this will happen on the ONE day you forget to pack a proper replacement outfit, so your child will then be parading around in public looking like a hot mess. Embarrassing.

-     Should you NOT know this by now, all babies think it’s best to go pee and poo at an accelerated rate the moment you take them out of the house. So, on any give day you will go through at least three outfits on a 2-hour outing. For example, first she will pee the equivalent of her weight to the point where the diaper will begin to leak (cue change of clothes #1). Then she will poop (cue change #2). Then she will decide to spit up like a fountain; by the time change #3 comes around you’ll be scavenging for random separates scattered in your diaper bag, which will result in your child looking like a homeless baby with hand-me-downs on…cue rushing back home. 

-      Here’s one thing I can’t get over: that awkward moment when you find yourself face-to-face with a breastfeeding mom in a Nordstrom’s bathroom. She will be eagerly feeding her mischievous 8-month old, flashing him (and you) her boob while going “Aqui esta la leche bebe” (“Here’s your milk baby”). SHOOT ME NOW!

-  Your baby will pee all over your duvet cover, and you won’t care, at all…’cause honestly, I’m not washing that shit. FEBREEZE!

-     You will start a blog when your baby is a peaceful newborn, thinking that you will have the time to devote to this new hobby, only to realize that the little buggers will start to sleep less and whine more as they get older. You will begin to devote an immense amount of time to entertaining an infant, which entails: singing totally made-up songs (‘cause unless there’s another child in the house, you truly don’t have a clue about lullaby lyrics) and aimlessly pacing up and down your townhouse with baby in tow. Should a peeping Tom peek into your house he’ll think you’ve taken up cabaret classes as you’ll also start using “Jazz hands” and exaggerated facial expressions both of which your baby finds hilarious (I like to think I’m giving my face mad exercise and will therefore never wrinkle!) All of these things will leave little time for you to eat and shower, much less sit down and write a full blog post.

-     You will realize that there’s no such thing as acquiring new hobbies…you’ll settle for getting through the day alive.

-  Your new bedtime is 10 pm sharp. You’ll invite friends over for dinner at 6pm and practically kick them out at 9:45pm. If they complain, they’re still single and don’t have an f-ing clue.

-   On the rare occasion that you decide to stop drinking for a month to shed some of the baby weight and then proceed to drink yourself senseless on your birthday, you will realize that a hangover is a parent's worst enemy. You will ask the Powers that Be to open the Earth and swallow you whole as you lay on the floor, curled up in fetal position, next to your baby's tummy time mat. You will never ever want to drink again, ever, until you remember the bottle of bubbly sitting in the fridge. Mimosas anyone? 

There are many more things I could list, but they’ll have to wait…’cause the baby is up and I’ve got a version of All That Jazz I’ve been dying to try out on her. Wish me luck…*cue jazz hands*

Nothing like my bottle and my mommy's

tone-deaf singing...