What is With People???

I took the baby to Walmart today to pick up a few things. She was great through most of the trip despite hating the car seat, especially when it's not in the car moving at at least 65 mph. But it all went down hill when we got to check-out. She might have been a bit hungry (although she shouldn't have been but babies rarely do what they should). She also realized she was in a car seat that wasn't in the car and started screaming her little pink head off. Seriously, the child has a good set of lungs and she knows how to use them. She's also a bit of a drama queen. So I finished up as quick as I could while swinging her car seat around trying to mimic the motion of a car on the freeway. There wasn't much I could do at that point but we were leaving soon and I knew she would fall asleep on the way home.

But everybody and their mother (especially old ladies) for some reason thought it was their business that my baby was crying. I have never seen such nasty looks in all my life. You would've thought I was abusing my kid the way these ladies were looking at me. One lady actually stood in front of me for, like, two minutes and stared back and forth from me to the baby with a look of disgust.

Have you never seen a baby cry? Last I checked babies don't die from crying so unless you want to whip out your nipple and feed her, move along please!

I was so shaken, pissed, and embarrassed by the experience that I am hesitant to ever take the baby out in public again. Oh, and I should mention, when I take Mateo out and he cries, everyone either tries to help or assumes he's tired and needs a nap. Why is this any different?

Has anyone else experienced this reaction?

Poopy Head

My son called the baby a poopy head. I have no idea where he learned that word. I blame daycare.

Things I've Learned About Babies

Things I've Learned About Babies:

1) Baby formula is the most disgusting stuff I've ever seen (or smelled). It's even worse coming out.

2) Babies sure do fart a lot. I'm pretty sure mine could win a contest.

3) They also eat a lot. I guess the three meals a day plus two snacks doesn't really work with babies. Maya is chowing down all day and all night long.

4) Babies poop is way worse than even an untrained almost preschooler's.

5) They make all sorts of funny noises that keep you up all night wondering if they are about to die of SIDS. Or are secretly aliens communicating with the mother ship.

And I just have to mention, I now understand why women are so obsessed by their baby's weight. While moms think the world stops at every ounce their baby gains, everyone else wonders why it's so great that your baby weighs the same as a sack of potatoes. Let me just say, I get it! And on that note: my baby weighs 9 lbs. 12 oz. And she's only 6 weeks old! (I have no idea if that's good or not, but to me, she should win some kind of metal.)

The One Where I Post About a Million Easter Pics

So, on Easter day I felt a little like the traveling circus. We picked up our mentee "Bean", a seven year old foster child with special needs, including autism to spend Easter with our family and participate in the Easter egg hunt. And of course, we had feisty Mateo and the new baby, and my five year old cousin, along with a variety of other relatives. But for us, it was sort of like instant family of 5. In a matter of just a few days we went from one child to three. Even though we only had Bean for the day, we got a taste of what a larger family would be like. And it was....ummm....busy.

Anyway, we had a great time really. It was a lot of fun, up until it was time to drive the one hour home. Apparently Mateo had overdosed on candy without us realizing it. After wolfing down most of the jellybeans in his eggs before we could get it away from him, he also ransacked his cousin's easter bag too. By the time we got in the car to go home, he was crashing from the sugar high. I'm not proud to say it, but I actually pretended to throw all the candy out the window on the drive home to make him behave. It didn't work.

Updates

Here are some quick updates about the family.

1) Baby is adjusting very nicely. The nurses said she cries a lot but they must have her confused with another baby. She is the happiest, easiest baby I have ever met. Healthy and developing normally. We feel very lucky, but also a little (okay, a lot) nervous about the future. We really don't want to lose her.

2) Mateo's adjustment is exactly to be expected. He loves the baby but is also jealous and a bit resentful. Sometimes he's worried when she cries and wants to help. Other times he wants her to go bye-bye. He's acting a little differently too. Which is normal for a big change in the family like this.

3) Speaking of attitude, Mateo has a lot of it. I know I've said that before but especially since the baby's been here. Actually, he's acting like a teenager. Crossing his arms and pouting, and running to his bedroom when he's mad and slamming the door while yelling, "Noooo!" We are giving him a lot of grace during this time because I know it must be hard on him.

4) Food. I've been using food to ease my guilt about not having as much time for Mateo. Working 3 days a week, I already feel like I don't spend enough time with him, but now it's even worse. So, I've been giving Mateo lots of "treats" to make him happy and feel special. Mostly it just makes me feel better. I may have to explain when he's older why he has a compulsion for eating jellybeans when he's upset. Ha, ha.

5) Dave is completely in love with the baby. Now remember, he was the one who said he never wanted a newborn. Well, I don't think he'd trade her for the world. Which is going to make it very hard if she has to leave. But he's great with her. He loves to hold her and fall asleep with her on his chest.

6) Me. Well, I thought I could be removed from the situation and still take care of the baby. I thought, a baby is a baby, and I'll just provide for her needs until I know it's safe for me to love her. Too late. She fits so perfectly into my arms, like she was meant to be there, forever. And as soon as she looked into my eyes, I was hooked. Now I'm not sure what I'll do if we lose her. I think I've decided that IF she does have to go to birth family, I would keep fostering babies until we could keep one. I actually think it will be easier on Mateo to adjust to an infant than to a toddler. But let's hope we don't have to make that decision. We are praying like crazy that she can be ours forever.

7) Remember a few months back when I wrote that prayer about getting our "mellow" child. Well, Maya is mellow yellow jello. So really, pray we can keep her. That's what it all boils down to.

BABY GIRL!!!!

We are going to pick up baby girl! Like, now. Right now. After a lot of drama, yelling, calling in favors, and ranting and raving. I'll explain later. But the situation is VERY risky. Baby girl could go to other family members at any time so we have to think of every day with her as a gift. But we are taking the risk for Mateo's sake. How would I explain to Mateo when he's older that we had the chance to know his sister but we didn't take it cause we were too scared? So, here we go. I'll update soon and post pics on the private blog as soon as possible.

P.S. pray for me. I hear she cries a lot.

Confessions of a Bad Mom

My "Bad Mom" Secrets (inspired by this Oprah show):

I have...

threatened to throw every single toy in the garbage and give it to the garbage truck to take to the dump forever and ever.

gone more than one day without even offering a vegetable or fruit with a meal.

bribed my son.

shamelessly bribed my son.

bribed my son with candy and/or other junk food.

used empty threats knowing full well they were empty.

told Mateo that the pilot will throw us off the airplane if he keeps kicking the seat in front of him (in mid-flight).

faked changing a really bad poopy diaper during my husband's turn so he would do something for me in return.

lied about how many poopy diapers I changed that day so my husband would do the next one.

started potty training, been too lazy to follow through, and then gone back to diapers.

lied to my child. Multiple times.

told my child the french fry machine was broken at McDonald's so I could get a shake through the drive-thru without having to also get him fries.

told Mateo the dog will bite him if he bothers her anymore even though I know she never will.

given in on more than one occasion to avoid a tantrum or endless whining.

made up some "important" errand to do just to get out of the house by myself.

used the TV as a babysitter.

hid toys that I hated.

turned the music up to drown out Mateo's screaming in the car.

secretly hated parents with well-behaved children.

faked crying to teach my son a lesson.

really cried out of frustration.

put my child in time-out for longer than the Supernanny, pediatrician approved length of time.

ignored my child to surf the internet.

skipped story time before bed just cause I didn't feel like it.

used "the baby weight" as an excuse for how I look.

exploited my child on a very public, world-wide blog.


So...what are your bad mom secrets?

Talking in Our Sleep

Turns out Mateo and I have something in common. Well, other than being loud, bossy, and having an opinion on just about everything. We both talk in our sleep. I haven't in a really long time, but every couple months or so, I start jabbering away, mostly unintelligible murmuring. So a couple nights ago, I apparently said, clear as day,

Suckety suck suck suck!

Dave, who wasn't quite asleep yet, started cracking up laughing. I woke up and said, "Did I just say that out loud?" And he started laughing again. But in my head, I was saying that metaphors are a sucky way of describe a sucky situation (I have no idea why I was talking about metaphors, I swear I have the strangest dreams). So I drift back to sleep saying, "Metaphors. No, metaphors suck. I don't like them," with Dave still laughing in the background.

Apparently I hate metaphors.

But Mateo has started talking, or maybe I should say making sound effects, in his sleep. Ever since the Indiana Jones Stunt Show in Disney, he's been obsessed with things blowing up. This isn't made better by my husband who shows him hundreds of videos on youtube.com of explosions of different sorts. Now we hear him in the middle of nap or as he's falling asleep at night making all sorts of explosion sounds. On the good side, he may actually have a future in sound effects. He sounds pretty convincing to me.

Why is it Always About Potty?

After telling Mateo all morning we were going to make Easter eggs today, and after buying all the materials to do so, I asked him, "Mateo, what are we making today?"

No response. So I give him a little hint.

"We're making....Easter...."

"Potty!"

I swear this kid is obsessed with potty.

Anyway, here are some pictures of our Easter potty- I mean eggs.

He was quite proud of himself.

Another Filler Story From the Past

Since I've been spending most of my days moping around the house, trying not to be too depressed about the little information I have about the baby, I can't think clearly enough to find something funny to blog about my in my life. So I'm giving you a "filler" story of epic proportions. This is the story of how I became known as "Pyro Girl" and also am never allowed near a campfire again. I swear, I am a magnet for crazy.

In the beginning of my second (and last) year of college, my "wing" (term used for a group of girls from the same area of the dorm) and I went on a camping trip with our staff adviser and his family. Since I had just gotten back from an adventure filled summer at Glacier National Park, the group deemed me as "camp fire-maker" (Me Og. Me make fire with rock and...gas-o-line.) with another girl, Alison, who also had camping experience. Our group had two sites, one at the top of a little incline, and one at the bottom. The rest of the group was at site at the bottom of the incline setting up tents and things, while Alison and I were at the top of the incline staring at the fire pit and stack of wood.

I suppose I failed to mention I had never in my vast experience of camping (really only including that summer) had ever built a campfire, least of all, by myself. None the less, here we were. So we managed to get a small smoldering fire going that was mostly smoke, but knowing that the rest of the group expected much more, we felt a bit pressured. I can't remember which of us suggested it, probably by me, but somehow we thought it would be a good idea to pour a little gasoline on what little fire we had to help it along.

So, there Alison stood, over the fire pit pouring gasoline from the container onto the fire. Can you guess what happened next? I couldn't at the time, but now in my wise years and more extensive camping experience, I could see it coming a mile away. That's right. The gasoline container burst into flames in Alison's hand, she dropped it immediately, on the ground, outside of the fire pit. Right next to a forest of dry leaves. Suddenly we were standing in front of a huge forest fire.

You know how in movies, when something bad is about to happen, something dangerous, every single time, the characters just stand there staring at it for way longer than necessary until you want to scream at them to "RUN!"? Well, that's a bit like how it happened. We just stood there, kind of in awe, kind of in panic. I didn't know what to do. I'm not a fire fighter. But I saw a water bottle on a picnic table so I grabbed it and tossed the water onto the fire. Of course, that only made it more mad.

My friend told me what happened after that. Apparently, I walked down to the other campsite, calmly and coolly, and said, "Umm...Fire." as non-chalantly as if I were having a conversation about the weather. And I pointed. By that time, there was no mistaking that there was a fire, a big fire. It was easy to see even over the hill. Everyone went running up to help put it out. All the while, I was picturing the whole forest burning to the ground while families flee in panic screaming for their children. And it would be all my fault (and Alison. I wasn't going down alone).

But it didn't go that way. Thank God is all I can say. We (by "we" I mean everyone else) were able to put the fire out. But I was affectionately known as "Pyro" after that. And no one trusts me around fire. I think they should just get over it, don't you?