The Queen's Rambles

I do hope you all had a wonderful Mother’s Day, though I kind of hate to mention it since I have so many friends who have recently lost their mothers and even a friend who has lost her baby. How can there be any happiness there? It hurts my heart to think of someone losing their sweet, little baby.

I wouldn’t even mention it, but we ended up having a Mother’s Day worth mentioning, mainly for the prime rib. We don’t usually celebrate holidays because we are weird, but today Mike surprised me with a piece of cake and an offer to go out to dinner.

We went to one of our normal haunts and were very surprised to learn that they only had a few items available off their menu and they were all at least double what we normally pay for a meal. After waiting forever for a table we decided to just deal with it and enjoy ourselves. I’m so glad we did. I had a very, very expensive prime rib dinner and it was possibly the most delicious meal I’ve ever eaten. I could get used to eating fancy food. Not that it was particularly fancy–just expensive and really well prepared.

Erik always orders chicken nuggets and never eats them, so I had to be a sneaky mom and order him rotisserie chicken instead. We confuse the waiters because Erik is always very adamant about placing his own order and he knows exactly what he wants, but it is not always what I want him to have. Lucky for him I won the fight today. He is not one for understatement–he declared the chicken was the best thing he’s eaten in his whole life and he wants it all the time. Mama does know best sometimes.

Elsa gave me the best present ever: she slept all the way through the meal. I was sure she’d wake up the minute my food came out, but she slept for three hours straight. I could get used to that! Right now she is in her bouncy seat. She’s been a little fuss-budget this evening so I am learning to go against all my motherly instincts and just set her down. That often makes her happy. After my experience with newborn Erik it is hard to fathom a baby that enjoys being alone in her chair. She never even nurses to sleep. Erik would suck and suck and suck and finally fall asleep. When she’s done, she’s done and she refuses any more milk. I can’t even think of a time that she fell asleep while nursing. I’m trying not to jinx myself, but this bodes well for the future.

The only bad part of the meal was the bathroom break afterwards. Do you really want to hear this?

I took Erik in with me, as is our custom. The only way to get that kid to go to the potty is to trick him, so tonight I had to have him “show me” where the bathroom was because I couldn ‘t find it myself. Anyway, when it was my turn he starts talking really loudly in the semi-crowded bathroom about my diaper. “Mommy! Your diaper has a lot of blood on it! Mommy! It’s so bloody! Mommy, why do you have all that blood on your diaper!” On and on and on and on. I told him to be quiet and not talk about it, but do you think that really worked? Of course not. Ugh. I will be glad when the bleeding stops. I realized that even though he always goes to the bathroom with me this is the first time he’s seen pads since I always use my DivaCup (I don’t change it in front of him, obviously).

How about a little controversy? Something other than baby talk?

One of the bloggers I read has recently been diagnosed with breast cancer. Actually, TWO of the bloggers I read have recently been diagnosed with breast cancer, which really really sucks. One of them is someone I really like and enjoy. The other is one of my guilty pleasure reads. I only read her because she is annoying and I like to be outraged by her stupid ideas. I’m so nice.

Anyway, the annoying one is really skinny and posted that someone she knows said fat people would rather have cancer than be fat and she wanted to know if that was really true, sort of implying fat people are stupid.

Tons of people, both fat and skinny, commented that they would rather be fat than have cancer. Duh.

Today the blogger posted that it is only logical that fat people would rather have cancer than be fat and she didn’t get what the outrage was about. I didn’t see any outrage in the comments of the original post, but now I’m outraged. Seriously? Can you imagine preferring cancer, even an “easy” cancer (whatever that may be) to being fat? You’d have to have serious self image problems. I know a couple of people who are skinny and very disgusted by fat people so perhaps they would rather have cancer than be fat, but as a fat person I can’t imagine wishing any type of cancer on myself. Sure there are some things I really hate about being fat (mainly the lack of clothing) but cancer? Really? I am totally offended by the idea that fat is so terrible that cancer is a better alternative. It boggles my mind that anyone would believe that. And what would an “easy” cancer be? Skin cancer? Even if you caught it early you’d have to spend the rest of your life paranoid about getting it again.

Ok, baby is sleeping, time for me to sleep.

Do you think sticking a big spoonful of peanut butter in Erik’s mouth would make him quit talking for a few minutes? I can’t take he nonsense anymore. He’s been telling me the (wrong) time for the past twenty minutes. Plus, he’s planning Mike and my friend’s combined birthday party, so has been cutting out “streamers” from wrapping paper and telling me all the people he’s inviting and the games we’re going to play. I’m sure two adults will LOVE all the games he is planning. He’s going to be sad when he realizes all the neighborhood kids aren’t going to be at this party.

In other news, I’m officially off milk and ice cream. Cheese seems to be ok, thank goodness. Oh how I love a big glass of ice cold milk. Oh how my baby pukes and pukes when I drink one.

I am still not sure about my allergy situation. A part of me thinks the allergy was caused by the antibiotics, as a couple of you have suggested. It was my first thought, but I stopped them on Friday and the rash showed up on Monday. Who knows, though. Antibiotics are weird things. The last time I took them I ended up pregnant. Not saying they caused the pregnancy (I know where babies come from), but it sure was weird to get pregnant the one cycle we didn’t chart or anything after trying everything for 18 months.

Everything is going pretty well here. I have no time to write, of course. When Erik was a baby I could always find time to write since he slept so much. Elsa sleeps even more than he does, but when she’s sleeping I have to do stuff like read a million knock-knock jokes, supervise scooter riding and tell stories.

We’ve been getting out and about a little more. I forgot just how much I hate breastfeeding when I’m not in my comfy chair with my boppy. Breastfeeding on a park bench just about kills my back.

Some of you may remember that my friend, Reebert, made me a breastfeeding cover based on the hooter hider design. I love it! The other day I ran across a super sale on hooter hiders so I bought one just because I can’t resist a super sale. I was so disappointed! Reebert’s design is much more thoughtful and easy to use. I wouldn’t have thought there was that much of a difference, but the hooter hider pales in comparison.

I need to stop buying things just because they are on super sale.

ARGH! Seriously, would someone bring me a giant piece of duct tape for Erik’s mouth. It just won’t stop running, repeating the same thing over and over and over and over. I have no patience for this.

I guess I better go shower while I have the chance. Maybe the boy would be less annoying if I took him outside for a bit.

*If we have to have three hours of nightly screaming, I would appreciate if they would start at 7 or 8. It started at 10 tonight. Please, please, please let it not be an actual three hours of screaming. What happened to my sweet, sleepy newborn?

*Erik and I had some nice bonding time this evening. We made cookies, a nice, wholesome activity. I have a cookie scoop and really like my cookies to look nice. I have never let Erik use the scoop before, but he was begging and I guess there wasn’t a good reason not to let him. I ended up letting him do all the scoops, but I had to leave the room so I could leave him to his business. He was a very proud boy and I was pretty impressed. He did a good job for a four year old.

*We needed a bonding moment after a really rocky morning. The child SPIT in my HAIR. He is beyond lucky that I was feeding Elsa at the time or I wouldn’t have had time to calm myself and I would have beat his butt. Even after I had a few minutes to put her in her basket and start to deal with him, I was so angry I wanted to commit violence. I knew if I started I wouldn’t be able to stop. You can not even imagine how enraged I was. Or maybe you can. Imagine someone spitting on your head and how you would respond. Anyway, I spit on his head to show him how it felt. He didn’t like it. Then I put him in time out in his room for way too long. I knew if I had to look at him I would probably go nuts and either scream or spank. He thought I was terribly cruel, but I was just saving him from me.

*I have developed a fairly severe allergy to something. I suspect it is either my shampoo or conditioner. When I get out of the shower my face, back, legs and feet are covered in horrible red itchy patches. Somehow it is the worst on my feet, probably because I stand in the shower and there is enough water to make my feet soak in the stuff I rinse out of my hair. That’s my theory, anyway. If I’m not allergic to something in the shower I have no idea what it could be. I ordered some natural shampoo so I hope that helps. Problem? A lot of natural shampoos have lavender in them, which I am also very allergic to. Is there anything I’m not allergic to?

*I have more to say but I need to get my butt in bed while Mike is still willing to do the walking around. I have two things to do tomorrow that I can’t get out of. I am not looking forward to it, esp since I will have to be up and about fairly early.

*Please forgive me for my lack of commenting. I will try to be better, but it is hard right now.

We’re here and mostly alive. My dear son might get himself skinned if he keeps being a pill. I know it is not his fault. His world is in upheaval, his grandma left, I can’t be the mommy to him I used to be. Yadda yadda yadda. That doesn’t make it any easier when he refuses to do what I ask him to do. I get so tired of doing a whole big song and dance complete with every available psychological trick in the book just to get him to put his shoes on (or brush his teeth, or put clothes on, or whatever simple task needs to be completed). We had a “moment” yesterday. After I threw a fit in his general direction and he cried and told me I was making him sad, we sat down and cuddled. We talked about how mommy is tired and needs him to do what I ask instead of fighting me. He agreed. We stood up, I asked him to put his shirt on, he ran away screaming.

He will become cooperative one day, won’t he? Ten years from now I doubt he’ll be running around my house, naked.

I hope.

Ewwwwwww.

Three weeks postpartum and my feet are still swollen and sore. It’s getting old. Even better, I woke up this morning with a bright red rash over the tops of my feet. I suppose I should go to the doctor, but which doctor? OB? Primary care? Derm? I don’t even know. If I go, I will have to do a bunch of explaining about our new insurance. We just switched over to an HSA, whatever that is, and don’t yet have our new numbers so we are just supposed to ask the doctors to work with us till our numbers arrive in a couple of weeks. I don’t want to ask for anything. I hate complicated. Bah!

We are missing my mom, of course. It was so nice to have someone take care of Erik and do a lot of the little things that we didn’t want to do. Real life kind of sucks sometimes, you know? At least I still have Mike here for three weeks. It is going to be a major shock to my system when he goes back to work and it will just be me and the kids. I might cry.

My poor mom had a horrible trip back to Oregon thanks to United Airlines. The door on her plane wouldn’t close, so they had to sit on the tarmac for over an hour. The flight crew kept announcing updates for people making connections to New Zealand but were really rude and wouldn’t help anyone else. When they landed they even told one guy they were going to arrest him if he didn’t fasten his seat belt (they were just taxing up to the gate–yes, you are supposed to have your seat belt on, but you know everyone undoes it after the plane lands). It wasn’t like the guy was arguing. Their first threat out of the box was arrest. I’ve never heard my mom so worked up over customer service. It didn’t help that they lost her luggage and didn’t find it until this morning.

Anyway, thanks to the flight delay she missed her flight back to my hometown. They couldn’t rebook her until the next day at 8 pm, which was not acceptable to her. I would have loved to hang out in San Francisco for a day, but that is not my mom’s style. She finally talked them into sending her to Medford, a town about an hour from our hometown. She was planning on renting a car, but a guy in line said he would drive her home.

She is such a funny lady.

She is convinced our neighbors are terrorists and we are going to be murdered by a crazy person. Then she accepts a ride from a total stranger? What the hell?

I’m very glad she wasn’t murdered. In fact, the guy turned out to be really nice and wouldn’t even take gas money. It’s a small town and they knew several of the same people, but she didn’t know that when she accepted the ride.

I guess I’m not one to talk. Most people wouldn’t invite an internet stranger to their house, but I’ve done that several times. I even married one. Not that he was still an internet stranger when I married him, but there was that first meeting when I had to have faith that he wouldn’t inject Windex into my veins and carve out my liver.

The cloth diapering is going better. I know you all wanted to know that. I’ve figured out I need to put the stuffing more toward the back of the diaper instead of the front. Kind of a DUH! moment, but I’m not used to little girls. It also helps that she’s getting bigger, plus I guess absorbency improves with each wash.

So far I like FuzziBunz and Rumparooz. I hate GoodMama Ones and KnickerNappies.

And now I hear someone grunting like a pig, so I better go.

I am going to try to sneak in an entry this morning even though I probably should be getting Erik some lunch before school. In fact, why am I writing this? If he doesn’t eat, he’ll be grouchy. Damn. This will have to be continued later. Mike is in the shower and my mom has the baby, so I guess I have to do more than sit on my ass and make myself happy.

Later. . .

Mom and Mike left me! They went to take Erik to school and go buy fried chicken at the Amish market. I hope fried chicken agrees with the baby. Thus far dairy and vegetables don’t agree with her. What’s left? Meat? Noodles? Honestly, I’m not even all that hungry, which is bizarre. When I was nursing Erik I couldn’t get enough food down my gullet. Maybe the starvation feeling will set in soon. I know she’s getting enough to eat because she was already up to 10 pounds at her two week appointment. She’s just about outgrown her 0-3 month clothing.

I had a follow-up appointment for my infection on Wednesday. Everything was great. The doctor even clapped her hands in glee. She didn’t think it would clear up so easily. I should have realized it was pretty serious when she told me at the original appointment to be sure to call the emergency line no matter what time of day or night if I was feeling worse or if my fever didn’t go away. If I hadn’t been on percocet, the dummy making drug, maybe I would have realized things weren’t right.

Anyway, I lost 8 pounds in 5 days. I could live with that type of weight loss. I doubt that will continue since I’m losing fluids and such, but it was nice to see the scale down so far. I’m 8 pounds below my pre-pregnancy weight, though I don’t have any muscle tone at all. I’m sure once I get back into BodyPump I’ll pack on some muscle poundage. I don’t know if that’s good or bad.

The baby is starting to act more like a real baby–more fussy and crying. We have to walk her now and jostle her, all those things that kill your back. She is still much easier to handle than Erik and is content to sleep in her Moses basket. Let’s all do a dance of joy for that! She isn’t a fan of the comfort sucking. When she’s done eating, she spits milk all over me and refuses to drink any more. It’s pretty nice, actually. Erik would suck for hours and hours even if he wasn’t hungry. Maybe she’ll wean a lot easier than Erik.

My mom is going home tomorrow and I’m really sad. Everyone thought she’d drive us crazy if she stayed a whole month, but after some rocky times at the beginning everything has been great. I guess the key really is communication. When she would drive me crazy I would just tell her about it and she’d stop the behaviors. Amazing how that works. Ten years ago I never would have dreamed of opening my mouth and saying what bothered me. It is so simple a concept. Why did I ever think it was so hard?

She has been a great help with household chores and Erik. We think we’re tired now, but we don’t know tired. It’s really going to suck when we are finally getting some sleep in the morning (Elsa likes to be awake in middle of the night and sleep all day) Erik is going to wake up and need attention. Isn’t he old enough to make his own breakfast?

Really, my heart is just breaking for Erik. He has loved having his grandma here and is so proud to show her off to all his friends. He’s eating up all the attention and has already informed us that he’s going back to Oregon with her. I know life isn’t fair and spread out families are just a part of the modern world, but I want my boy to have his grandma! Seeing her a few times a year doesn’t cut it. We have no relatives here. He has no idea what having an extended family is like. It feels like we are cheating him out of a lot of love, but what can we do? There are no jobs for Mike closer to my family. I don’t want to live closer to my family–just my mom. I know it will never happen, but I wish she could come out and live with us. It would be a lot better for her and it would make Erik happy. Heck. I could probably even start subbing or something if she was here to watch the kids. She will never agree to such a scheme, though, since she has three other grandchildren who need her much more than Erik needs her. She is the only stability in their lives and I know if any of them have any chance of growing up to be productive citizens it will be because of her influence.

My sister is such a . . . I don’t even know of a word to describe her that would convey my feelings.

On Facebook she told me I better send her mommy back soon because her laundry situation was out of control. Why on earth does a 33 year old woman need to have her mommy do her laundry? I assumed she didn’t have a washer at her place, but my mom says she has one, she just doesn’t know how to use it. I can’t even imagine being healthy, having a laundry room and having the audacity to ask my mom to come to my house, gather up my laundry and take it home to wash. I can’t imagine ever doing that for my children, either. I won’t even get my four year old a glass of water when he’s thirsty. I use that time honored line “You’ve got two legs, go do it yourself.” I guess that sounds pretty harsh, but I am trying to teach him independence.

The other day she called and said that her two older kids (4 and 5) found a can of spray paint in the garage and painted my dad’s old truck pink. “Can you believe they would do that?” she asked, sounding totally shocked. She was even more shocked by my answer, which was DUH! Yes, I can believe it. Erik would love to do something like that. That’s why I supervise my child. I would never let him have the run of my parent’s garage. I’m just glad the kids’ didn’t spray it in their eyes and go blind. If I dwell on her life and the way she treats her kids for too long I’ll explode with anger and sadness so I better shut up now.

Remember when you were a little kid or even a junior high student and you had to write essays about The Future and you were all “Everyone will have a flying car! And our desks will have computers in them! And we’ll be wearing jet packs!”

Did anyone imagine that we could watch streaming TV whenever we wanted on our laptops while we were laying in bed? And that you could instantly update everyone you’ve ever met with your status as a lay-about? And that you could even post pictures of your status practically instantly? Not that I’ve done that former part, but I know I never imagined such a thing as digital photography.

All said, I think our current sci-fi world is better than flying cars.

Have I mentioned that I’m sick of bed rest? Because I am. But there is no way I am going up and down the stairs until I am 100% positive this infection is gone. I don’t want to wind up on bed rest next week after my mom leaves.

I am feeling much better, so that’s a relief. I didn’t realize how sick I was until I wasn’t sick any more. I just thought my red, inflamed incision was part razor burn from the awful dry shave they gave me and part allergic reaction to the tape. I’m not so bright sometimes.

We’ve started using cloth diapers again now that Elsa’s diaper rash is gone. So far none of us are impressed. I hope it gets better or I am going to go cry myself a river. I do not like leakage. Mike does not like bulkiness. My mom does not like running the dryer for 150 hours a day (it is raining, so no line drying for us).

Hopefully we will learn how to do it faster and better without as much leakage as the weeks go by. I guess you can’t really judge something like that by the first few days, though it seems silly to think that diapering a baby requires a learning curve.

What else?

A big fat nothing!

I think I may have just made my YouTube premiere. I looked out the window and noticed the neighbor boy and his friends are making a video of twirling their rifles around. I sincerely hope the camera didn’t pan up to my window. No one needs to see my make-shift receiving blanket bra with my boobies hanging all akimbo. There are no pads think enough to contain the leak of these engorged boobs. At least things are rock hard and gravelly any more, but it will still be awhile before the supply and demand even out.

Oh man! I was just clicking over on Facebook and noticed that one of my former teacher co-workers had a comment from one of my former students, so I had to click through to see her profile. I feel very old. One of my silliest, most immature freshman has a child older than Erik. And she still looks silly and immature. Which, I suppose, explains why she has a kid older than Erik. Silly and immature can be fun and innocent, but she was always manipulative, bratty and searching for something that didn’t seem to exist.

Have I ever mentioned that I’m glad I’m no longer a teacher?

Just imagine how disjointed this post would be if I was still taking my percocet. I’m trying to wean myself off it and have been pretty ok today. That stuff makes me dumb as a rock. Mike and my mom find it both funny and frustrating. They come in and ask me basic questions and I can only come up with one answer: “I don’t know.” They think I should know stuff, but my brain is just a blank. I can’t remember anything. I would not make a very good drug addict, but I guess drug addicts like drugs because they like that disconnect from reality.

I just want chocolate. That’s the only drug I need.

Everything was going so well I should have known the other shoe would drop.

I have an infection in my belly. I am not sure how it all works, but all I know is I’m in incredible pain. Way, way more pain than I was in even the day of the c-s. I even called the doctor, which is something I never do.

I’m now on antibiotics and have a follow-up appointment next week. She even gave me another bottle of percocet to see me through. I was afraid she would just accuse me of being a drug seeker, but that didn’t happen. Probably because everyone watched the tears stream out of my eyes as I s-l-o-w-l-y made my way back to the office. I could barely move.

I am under strict orders to keep to my bed, keep my feet up and my incision site exposed to air. Not exactly comfortable, but if it will help I will do it. Not that I am going it this moment, but I am going crazy from not writing. I need to write daily. Obviously that hasn’t been happening.

Thankfully my mom is here another week and Mike just started his four week vacation so I am well taken care of. I just feel bad for Erik. He is all about his grandma, but he is also acting out really badly and I know he misses his normal mommy. I’m doing what I can to alleviate that, but it isn’t much.

When my mom first got here she thought he was the sweetest, most angelic child. Ha! She has seen the light and is getting pretty annoyed with him. He is testing every limit she sets for him and is trying to get the better of her at every opportunity. She doesn’t have the patience to deal with him, but she’s doing her best. I want her to read 1-2-3 Magic, but she “doesn’t need to read a book to know how to deal with children.” I will never understand that attitude. People have done research and have good ideas! Read a few books! You might learn something.

At least she has been ok with me nursing Elsa. She hated it when I would nurse Erik but I guess she’s over that.

Elsa still doesn’t look like an Elsa to me. Elsa should have blonde hair and pale skin. My baby has dark hair and a darker complexion. She is B@dorek through and through and will never give off that Scandinavian Elsa vibe. I want to re-name her Jolene but Mike thinks I am totally nuts and won’t even entertain the idea. I can’t say I blame him, but seriously. She is not an Elsa.

I guess I better go and climb back in bed. I hope the antibiotics kick this thing out of the park sooner rather than later. I can’t believe how shitty I feel. My c-s recovery was so easy with Erik. I never imagined this would happen even though I knew it was a possibility.

I think I better go get my tubes tied right away. I can’t go through another recovery like this. Elsa is such a sweet, easy going baby that I can see why people look at their baby and go “awwwwww, we should have another one!” I never understood that with Erik. I looked at him and though “never, never, never again.” Not that I didn’t love him, but he was a lot of hard work.

One of my biggest regrets with Erik’s babyhood was not getting newborn pictures. We are both cheapskates by nature and it didn’t really seem necessary since we were taking about ten million pictures a day. But in my little mommy heart I really wanted the professional, curled up little baby pictures.

I wasn’t about to make that mistake twice.

True, she was only a week old, but I wasn’t going to put it off and miss my opportunity.

The good: Post-Easter is not a popular time for pictures. We were the only customers and we ended up with a fabulous photographer. I know it can really be potluck at Penny’s, but now I have the name of the woman who did our pictures and will request her in the future. She spent over two hours with us, trying to get some good shots.

The bad: My children.

Elsa hates to be naked and I love the naked baby pictures so she spent a lot of time screaming.

Erik. Well. Let’s just say the boy is lucky I didn’t find a willow switch and beat him bloody. My original plan was to do the pics while he was at school, but I was scared we would run out of time if there was a big crowd. Sibling pictures are nice, of course, but he can be a little butt head sometimes. Only this time? He was more than a little butt head. He was a giant asshole.

We were trying to do Elsa pictures first and every time we would get her settled or sleeping he would purposely make a loud noise. Finally my mom took him out. You can’t even imagine how angry I was getting.

Then we did the sibling pictures and he refused to cooperate. First he refused to take his shirt off until we bribed him. What the hell? The kid refuses to keep his clothes on at home. I know he was just jealous because he wasn’t the star of the show, but I was having a hard time feeling any sympathy for him.

The photographer had the patience of a saint. I was ready to pack him up and send him out to sit in the van with grandma, but she kept working with him even when he was being totally contrary and doing exactly the opposite of everything she asked him to do.

Here’s a perfect example. She had his hands over Elsa’s tummy and told him to hold it there. She counted to three and as soon as she said three he let go. It may look funny, but it was most definitely not.

By the time it was my turn for photos my hair was flattened and my make-up was drained. I was a sweaty, tired mess. I really over did it yesterday and paid the price in pain.

In other news, I did nothing today. I am so, so grateful for my mom. She’s done everything for me today including Erik care, diaper changes and washing all my bedding. She just did my bedding yesterday, but I have a serious problem. I am totally engorged and one breast leaks so much that even with several receiving blankets wrapped all around it, my bed gets soaked with milk. I do not enjoy the smell of sour milk while sleeping. I hope the milk supply evens out soon because I am pretty sick of rock hard breasts and leaky boobs. My feet are still swollen, too, and it is just about on my last nerve. I don’t know how much bigger they can get before my skin splits open.

Things are still going great with Elsa. She sleeps for hours at a time in her bassinet, which is just incomprehensible to me. Last night I made Mike get up and make sure she was still alive. He stood over her forever before answering me and I was getting panicked. If it didn’t hurt so much to jump out of bed, I would have hurdled right on over there. She continues to be non-screamy and I continue to wait for the other shoe to drop. She was awake for three hours this morning, just sitting around in her bouncer or on our laps. Life doesn’t seem to hopeless when your baby is happy. Erik’s screaming really took a lot out of me.

And now I better take advantage of her early bed time and get my butt into bed. No telling what time she will have her waking hour tonight.

Sleep sounds really good right now, but I stripped the bed so don’t have anywhere to sleep. With all my hot sweats, the room was starting to smell like a feral animal den. Don’t you wish you lived with me?

My mom said I could go nap in her bed. No offense to my mom, but no thanks. I’m too particular about where I sleep.

Things are going well over here, though we are all pretty tired. Elsa is a wonderful baby so far. She only cries hysterically when we change her diaper or she has gas pains. I can’t blame a girl for that. We are able to put her in her bouncer, Moses basket and bassinet for long periods of time both when she is awake and asleep. I didn’t know you could just put a baby down and have the baby smile and look around. She is quite content to take in the world around her. Last night she was wide awake from 3-4 am, but she never cried at all. It’s not exactly fun to be up at that hour, but I can’t really complain. It is pretty easy to deal with a happy baby, even at a late hour. It’s the screaming I’ve been dreading.

She had her first doctor’s appointment today and has her first prescription. Poor dear has a yeasty diaper rash already. I knew the rash was getting worse instead of better, but didn’t even consider it might be yeast. I hope the prescription clears it up quickly.

We started cloth diapers, but only one type actually fits her and we only have about 8 of them. The others are all too big, so we put cloth diapering on hold until she is a little bigger and until we are no longer using diaper cream (since it will ruin the cloth diapers). I kind of regret buying a few of each kind. As it stands now, I wish we had a whole bunch of Rump-a-Rooz. Maybe the others will be ok after she grows a little bit.

+++++
Several hours later, and I’ve taken a nap and am ready for bed. But! I posted a few pictures on Flickr and Facebook for those playing along at home. We have newborn pictures scheduled for tomorrow. I really regret not getting professional newborn pictures of Erik so I’m making sure I get them with her. I love pictures of little naked, curled up babies.

I’m home! But I’ve not been in the mood to blog. Imagine that.

We got home yesterday thanks to a doctor who actually listened to me. Shocking! I got up before the doctor showed up and combed my hair, put on some real pajamas and sat in the rocking chair instead of laying around in the bed. Once she arrived I begged her to let me go home so I could get some much needed real rest and heal faster. Once she examined me she agreed that I could go. I was so, so relieved. The thought of another 24 hours at the hospital, sitting around in a bed that was killing my tailbone was almost more than I could stand.

It took forever to be discharged because we had to wait for Elsa’s doctor, but we were home by 2:30 yesterday. I did discover that getting into and out of a real bed was extremely painful, but I survived and got a lot more rest. No one came in at 2 am to weigh the baby. No one wanted to draw my blood at 4 am. No alarms sounded. I didn’t have to worry about dropping the baby out the side of the hospital bed. Home is good.

We are all pretty tired, but doing well. I need to take more pictures. We’re totally falling down on that job. Poor second child is already getting the second child treatment.

Poor first child is already getting the “sleep deprived grouchy mother” treatment. I got pretty mad at him this morning when he wouldn’t listen to me and started whapping him with Elsa’s quilt. Bad, bad mommy. After school I tried to make it up to him and took him upstairs with a maze book–no grandma and no Elsa–and spent some time with just him. He seemed to really need that.

I know exactly why I exploded at the boy this morning. My neighbor came over to see if she could have a big glass of ice before she mowed the lawn. I had no problem with that, but then she kept talking and talking and talking. She and my mom got on a roll about the drug house down the street and I am just SO FREAKIN’ TIRED of hearing about it! My mom wants to talk about it constantly. Yes, I know there is a drug house down there. Yes, they need to have their kids taken away. Yes, it is a menace. But what the heck am I supposed to do about it? I’m tired of hearing about it.

Anyway, this lady wouldn’t leave and her and my mom were having a mighty fine time bitching about the people down the street and I just wanted to be left in peace. I shouldn’t have taken it out on Erik, but I did. I guess he’s over it. I’ll have to do better tomorrow.

Other than that I’ve been on a very even keel, emotionally. I remember being a total mess with Erik, but I haven’t had any crying jags yet. Thus far she’s been a much easier baby with very little screaming *knock on wood* It probably helps that she has much more relaxed parents.

I have been really shocked by her appearance. I was expecting another mini-Mike just like Erik. Instead I got a mini-sister. It’s so weird to be nursing my baby, looking down and seeing my sister’s face look up at me. I still am amazed by her dark hair. It’s not a huge amount, but it is way more than Erik ever had. Of course, it will probably fall out and her real hair will grow in, but you never know.

I don’t think she really looks like an Elsa. I wanted to re-visit the name but Mike thought I was nuts. Perhaps I should have mentioned it before he called his family and told them the name.

So there you go. My thoughts are really disjointed and I probably need to go to bed and get some sleep, if sleep is even possible. The percocet makes me really dopey, as if I needed an excuse.