Apparently she takes after daddy.

Warning… This post is not for anyone with a weak stomach.

I do not throw up easily. Since I can remember, I’ve never been one of those kids that barfs at the drop of a hat. Princess Punk is the same way. As an infant she hardly ever spit up and I think I can count on one hand the times she has actually puked.

The Zen Master? Let’s just say this is not a trait we share. He will throw up if he eats too fast and has, on several occasions had to run away from the table in the middle of dinner to go retch. Loudly. Ewwwwwww. Even happened at a restaurant once and he threw up into his napkin a little bit. Gotta say I was NOT attracted to him at that moment. I am actually getting nauseous just thinking about it.

Apparently The Peach has inherited her father’s propensity for epic emesis. (good use of alliteration right?) She spits up regularly after eating and tonight after consuming an entire 4oz bottle she decided to projectile vomit. All. Over. Me.

It was everywhere. All over my shirt, in my hair and I’m not sure how, but some of it got in my ear. My EAR. I scared the poor kid half to death since I was so alarmed by the sudden and abrupt deluge of puke that I actually yelled. Not at her mind you, just a loud, surprised yelp that may have included a curse word or two.

She didn’t actually get much on herself, although amazingly, the force at which she expelled the partially-digested, sour smelling formula caused it to come out of her nose. Yes, that’s right, my infant is so talented she can barf through her nose.

The Zen Master wiped out her little nostrils while I changed my shirt and rinsed the gross out of my hair, off my neck and out of my ear. I was honestly amazed at the physics of it. She’s just so damned tiny, how in the hell did she DO that?


So now I’m just waiting for her to wake up hungry. Since she threw up pretty much everything she took in, I’m thinking she’ll need to eat again reeeeeeaaaaal soon.

I think I’ll go put on a poncho.


So apparently, not completely perfect.

The Peach gave me a hard time last night. Not that she wasn’t delightful and she wasn’t particularly fussy, she just didn’t want to sleep. At all. From about midnight to about 4:30am. She ate a little, then dozed for a minute or so, then peed then got grumpy because she was wet, then ate some more, then nursed some, then cried if I tried to put her to bed and so on. For four hours.

And this morning, I learned that The Zen Master is not perfect. You see, it didn’t occur to him that since I was absent from our bed for most of the night and just barely crawled back in before his alarm went off (which I didn’t even hear) that I might not hear my alarm an hour later to wake up Princess Punk. So he left for work. About five minutes before my alarm went off. Which I slept through.

Princess Pink came into my room at 7:30, bleary-eyed and told me the time. Her bus comes at 7:22.

I cannot take her to school as Zen Master has the only working vehicle a well as the car seat base even if I could get the stupid truck running. My mom attempted to come pick her up but thanks to a night of freezing rain, was unable to get out of her driveway.

So I guess Princess Punk is playing hooky today.

And The Peach is awake. Again.

Well, it’s still better than yesterday, at least we have heat.

I’ll be damned, school is closed today anyway on account of the crap fest coming from the sky.

I’m still annoyed with my husband though.

Oh What a Beautiful Morni… Just Shut it. (now with bitter and angry updates!)

Yesterday was my busiest day so far since the birth of the Peach. It wasn’t HUGELY busy mind you, just more than I think I was ready for.

Yeah except I think it’d be more accurate if those were bills, not coins…

First, I had an appointment at the WIC office to get signed up. This was a huge thing for me since we spent my entire pregnancy thinking we were outsife of the income limits for WIC and if I wasn’t able to breastfeed (which apparently I’m not) the cost of formula was going to kill us. Another thing that is awesome about Vermont- If your children qualify for Dr. Dynosaur, the child medicaid program in the state, they automatically qualify for WIC too. This is a huge thing since the income limits for Dr. Dynosaur are up to 300% of the federal poverty line (meaning a family of 4 can make up to I think 64K a year gross and still qualify) as opposed to the federally set income limits for WIC which are at only 185% of the poverty line. Before taxes, health insurance, life insurance and other fees, we make a fairly decent wage in the NewLife household but once you take all that stuff out we are BARELY scraping by. And these assistance programs go by gross pay, not net, so most of the time we are totally screwed. But, thanks to Vermont being a small and progressive state and also thanks to a few grants courtesy of our DC representatives, Vermont has plenty of funding and no waiting list therefore the state can set the income limits higher than the federal level. Long story short, The Peach will have formula and we’ll get milk, cereal and beans to augment our grocery budget.

My kid? Ummmm… Gosh, I don’t see her anywhere…

Sooo… after that Mom took us out to lunch then she had her therapy appointment and then we had to pick up Princess Punk from school to take her to the orthopedist since she fell during snowboarding on sunday. She has apparently fractured the same wrist she broke last year in ski class. Something tells me this kid is not meant for the slopes. Anyhow… all this activity was in itself not a lot but combined with a 10-day old infant who is not quite on a schedule yet and me, still recuperating from… you know… giving birth and all, it was a bit much. By the time we got home, Peach and I were both tired, cranky and hungry. I ended up passing out at 6:30 and letting Zen Master deal with the 8pm feeding. Peach did NOT have a fantastic night. She was constipated (no, thank YOU formula) and gassy and the only thing little bitty babies know what to do about those 2 things is to? You guessed it… CRY. So she was fussy. Then… at about 1am, the heat dies. FanTAStic… Out of kerosene. Which wouldn’t be a huge deal except for the fact that we owe the oil company about $500 which we have to pay in full before they will make a delivery. Oh, and we got a cut-off bill for the electric this morning as well, only owe them $300.

So The Zen Master and I bundled up The Peach and he dropped me off at my mom’s house on his way to work since he had to take my car since the truck is STILL not working. At least Princess Punk was already over there. Mom’s door was locked. They NEVER lock their door. EVER. I had to ring the doorbell at quarter to 6, guaranteed to make everyone SUPER cheery to see me.

Apparently Princess Punk is in the doghouse since the whole reason she spent the night here yesterday was to clean up all her crap since my mom has company coming tomorrow. Judging from the state of the living room, I’m guessing that didn’t happen.

She just spent the last hour stomping around the house alternately pouting and crying. She was already in a pissy mood, because of her fresh arm cast she has to stay at school while the rest of her class goes ice-skating today. She left at 7:20 to hike up the driveway to catch the bus. I get a phone call at 7:22.

“I keep gagging and I feel like I’m gonna throw up.”

I think this must be a reaction to having to get on the bus since the whole time she was in here she had no problems whatsoever. Too bad, so sad, cry me a river kiddo and get on the damn bus.

Less than an hour of sleep and I get a little snippy.

When I called the oil company at 7:47am I got the following message, “Thank you for calling Might as Well Freeze to Death Oil. Our office is currently closed. We are open 7:30AM to 4:30PM Monday through Friday. If this is an emergency, please press ‘1’ and you will connected with our answering service.” I called back at 8:07AM and got the same message.

It’s now 8:59AM, let’s see what I get now…

Pressing ‘1’ for the on-call operator since apparently they’re stuck in some sort of time warp.

Ah… apparently they are having a staff meeting. And no, the on-call operator can neither take my payment over the phone or send a truck out for a delivery (because we haven’t paid them yet).

So it’s now 9:12AM and it is already a shitty day.

UPDATE- Warning- NEVER EVER SAY “Well it can’t get much worse…” BECAUSE IT WILL.

I had to leave my beautiful little newborn with my mom for 2 WHOLE HOURS so I could go to my house and let the oil guy in to re-light our furnce. Except he didn’t have to. Because we weren’t out, we still had half a tank. Because our gauge on the tank is all messed up and unreliable and because we have to reset the stupid furnace at least every other day just so we don’t wake up to a 40degree living room. Because when it DOESN’T reset (like this morning) I have to assume we are out of kerosene since the goddamn gauge doesn’t work.

This has been going on for over a year.

Know how much extra I had to pay for an “emergency delivery?”


Know how many times I’ve done that in the past year because I’ve THOUGHT we were out of kerosene?


Know how many times in the past year I’ve called out a serviceman about the reset problem?


Know how many times they’ve come out, charged me 60 bucks, pushed the reset button themselves and not actually FIXED THE PROBLEM?


To my credit,  I managed not to curse at the delivery guy who was actually very understanding and nice although things did get a bit awkward when I started to cry (thank you SO MUCH hormones!)

This is the longest I have been seperated from The Peach since conception. I am not doing well emotionally at this point.

I am starving so I stopped at the corner store to grab a breakfast sammich on the way back to my mom’s house. In the store, the deli guy’s wife has brought in their baby, probably about 8 months old. He is EXTREMELY cute and is making giggly baby noises which in turn is making me agitated and then guess what? My boobs started to hurt. Which was painful and pathetic since although my breasts are attempting to do what they are supposed to, that is to say, produce milk at the sound/smell/sight of a baby, they are completely retarded and are unable to make it work right. So what I get is a surge of hormones, sore boobs, a painfully urgent need to see my infant RIGHT NOW and a miserable feeling of inadequacy. Oh, and I start crying to a complete stranger holding a baby in the middle of the store. EPIC FAIL.

F*** today. Seriously. F*** it right up the ****.


The hospital stay

We had decided prior to my admission that we would stay at the hospital as long as the insurance would cover it. I wanted the extra support in the hospital and the time away from all the chaos at home was welcome during the first 48 hours of The Peach’s life outside the womb.
Staying at the hospital had pluses and minuses…
Plus- the nurses were fantastic. I mean truly fantastic. They were all super helpful, friendly and knowledgeable. Not to mention that at least two of them sat down and let me cry on their shoulder about my epic fail with the whole breastfeeding thing. One of them is even following my blog now 🙂
Plus- the lactation assistance was phenomenal. Between the nurses, the lactation consultants and the pediatrician, I got an amazing amount of information and help for breastfeeding and now I feel as though even if I’m not producing milk, I’ve ready done everything I can to make things work. I’m still not giving up but I feel less like a failure with all the information I’ve gotten.  Plus, The Zen Master was happy to see my boobs get manhandled by more women than Tila Tequila’s.
Minus- the food… Honestly, as hospital food goes, this hospital did very well, just not right for me. Their menu was based on a “mediterranean style” food plan, high in complex carbs, low in fat, less than average amount of protein. With my DS, I need to eat high protein, low carb and a meister amount of fat. Whole grain pumpkin pancakes sound delicious but will likely make me sick and hold no nutritional value for me. I’d be much better off with an omelet with ful-fat cheese and a side of bacon or sausage but it was a flipping war with the food service people to get them to give me what I needed. The nutritionist came to seeme and “had a talk” with the kitchen so that finally, on my last day there, I was able to get extra chicken breast with my lunch, regular cheddar in my omelet and actual meat with breakfast. It was a major pain in the ass though and I ended up going to the visitors cafeteria a couple times just to be able to get the amount of protein and fat my body needs. Oh and I had my dad bring me a double whopper when he came to visit.
Minus- The Zen Master was on his 32nd straight day of work the day I went into labor. So my lovely plan of us having some bonding time in the hospital with our new baby basically boiled down to me gazing at her while The Zen Master slept 90% of the time.
Plus- designated visiting hours allowed time to rest and relax without feeling bad about kicking people out.
Minus- bathroom was in the hallway. Hospital gown? Nuff said.

Not a bad experience overall and I enjoyed the extra time with someone taking care of me.

Then I got to go home… yay

Ew. Just… Ew.

Peach’s umbilical cord stump thingy fell off last night. Those things completely skeeve me out. I’m always afraid I’m going to accidentally pull it off too soon or it’s going to fall off and stick to my clothes or something. And it just looks gross…
The Zen Master’s response?
“Look! Baby jerky!”
I think I just threw up in my mouth a little bit.

The birth story… Edited for grossness

Ever done a Google search on “ways to induce labor at home?” Probably not… I have though so I’ll share some of what I found. In my desperate desire to hurry up and get my damn baby already, when I hit full term at 37 weeks, I started trying some of the old wive’s tales I found online to help get things going a little bit. Some of the things I found? Castor oil, eggplant parmesan, evening primrose oil, walking, sex and a wide variety of things ranging from weird to downright dangerous. Castor oil? ew. Made me gag, gave me gas and caused a few mild contractions that didn’t go anywhere. Eggplant parm? Yummy but sadly, completely ineffective. Evening primrose oil? Pretty much a waste of 7 bucks. Walking? Seriously? Have I mentioned my hip pops out of joint completely? Sex? Ok… um… So I’d been avoiding that one because, well, I’m huge and uncomfortable. So I decided to bite the proverbial bullet (that sounded SUPER porny) and “do the deed.” I guess they weren’t all old wive’s tales because about 20 minutes later I was timing regular contractions about 90 seconds to 2 minutes apart. I sat patiently timing the pain for about 15 minutes when I received this whucktackular text message from Princess Punk who was hanging out with my parents;

“Um bibas in the hospital. He had chest pain and there keeping him for observation. It is NOT a heart attack and he will problebly stay till tomarrow.”

(how she misspelled tomorrow but got observation right is totally beyond my comprehension)

I told her to tell my mom I was having contractions and how far apart they were.

“She said noooooo. And she said u cant do that.”

Okay, I’ll just cross my legs then.

Soooooo… I called my doctor’s office and waited patiently for the on-call doctor to call me back. When Dr. On-Call back and I told him my contractions were 2 minutes or less apart and had been steadily for the last 20-30 minutes he sounded a little concerned.

Remember when I said the hospital I was supposed to deliver at was over an hour away from my house? Yeah. I guess Dr. On-Call didn’t feel entirely comfortable with me taking the long trip since things were going so quickly. He advised me to go to the much closer and much smaller local hospital and get checked out there. At this point this seemed like a wise choice, especially since my dad was about to be admitted to this much smaller and much closer place. So The Zen Master and I packed up into the car and headed over to the mini-hospital in town. At about 7pm, I got admitted to labor and delivery, hooked up to a bunch of wires and checked to see how far I was progressing. Mom and The Princess walked down the hall (yes, the hospital is THAT small) and gave me an update on my dad.  He was doing fine, all labs to that point were normal but because of his high blood pressure and Type 2 Diabetes, they were keeping him in the ICU overnight for observation. Let me just say… My dad’s father passed away when he was a teenager. My mom’s dad? He passed away when she was pregnant with me. These two facts combined with the aforementioned complete lack of care my dad has for his own health and I was… Worried.

What happened next…. hang on let me reassemble this total clusterf*** of an evening in my head… Oh, right. The doctor came in and checked me again since I’d had basically no change in about 90 minutes (Seriously? F***.) and basically pushed me out the door told me that since I was borderline high risk I’d be better off going to the bigger hospital and since things seemed to be progressing slowly (despite the speed at which my contractions were coming) I would be fine to make the hour long drive. When I expressed my worry about my dad, she reassured me by saying “Well, if there’s anything serious wrong, they’ll transfer him to the bigger hospital anyway.” Great. Cuz that really makes me feel better about the situation. So we are left in the hospital room making frantic arrangements for Princess Punk (who was originally supposed to stay with Biba when I went into the hospital) and repack all our schmidt to move over to the other hospital. Mom swings by her house and the store to grab her stuff and get Princess Punk something to eat while the Zen Master holds my hand as the contractions get progressively faster and more painful and I start to panic about sitting in the car for an hour through this crap. See, somehow when I had pictured being in labor, I was picturing being in “early labor” during the car ride, with my contractions 8-10 minutes apart. So I’d basically only have to endure about 10 contractions on the way there. With the contractions so close together? It was going to be a hell of a ride. Like really HELL… Yay. Mom finally gets back to the hospital and we head out. Did I mention it was about -15 when we left? Gotta love Vermont…

So the ride was hell. Duh. The contractions decided to mix it up on me and come in big clusters of pain to really make me appreciate the short breaks I WAS getting. So I’d have like 3-4 contractions back to back with no relief and then a 60-90 second break and then the next one or two would hit me. I was in tears by the time we got there. I made it though. I got admitted to labor and delivery and got hooked up to a bunch of machines again and got to have another doctor feel around in my taco to see what was going on. (overshare? sorry)

Gotta say… The nurse was Amazing. She was nice, supportive and knew just the right things to do to help me through it. The Zen Master was kinda at a loss, I think he was mostly just a bit overwhelmed by how fast things seemed to be going. I had started having contractions at about 630pm and it was only about 1030 at this point and things were moving VERY fast at this point. He was still supportive though and rubbed my feet and held my hand and did what he needed to do to help me get through the contractions which were now strong enough to make me completely incoherent. Mom was great too and helped me stay focused which was extremely difficult at this point since I was getting little to no rest in between contractions and I felt like I didn’t even have time to breathe. I had to stay on the monitor for 20 minutes and wait for the doctor to check me again and then I got to get in the tub for a little while.The water really helped for a very short time and then all of a sudden the pain got a LOT worse. I decided I that even though I was hoping to do the natural birth thing, at this point I wasn’t going to be mad at myself if I gave in and got an epidural. The anesthesiologist came in and talked to me while I was in the tub. FYI- When you are in labor? Everybody sees your junk. EVERYONE. Because I have some rather odd narcotics allergies, they had to call down to the pharmacy and special order an epidural mix for me with no fentanyl in it. Which of course made things take a bit longer. It took about 20 minutes for them to get the epidural in and another 20 minutes for it to take full effect since for some reason it numbed my left side completely right away and allowed me to feel every single microt of pain on the right. Weird.

Dr. Resident came in and said she’s be back in about an hour to check me again and see how far I was. She had just walked out when I felt the next contraction. Through the epidural. It was weird, there was no pain, just this incredible immense pressure. I told Nurse Amazing to call the doc back in NOW because I was having a lot of pressure and it was time to GO. Dr. Resident comes back in and checks me and sure enough, I’m just about ready to push. She broke my water for me (which was an odd feeling) and within 5 minutes I had this unbelievable primal need to push. There was a huge flurry of activity as Dr. Resident called Dr. Attending and the Med Student and a bunch of nurses put on blue hats and booties. They all kept telling me to hold on since Dr. Attending was on his way but not there yet. Hold on to what? I mean, Seriously??? How the hell are you supposed to “breathe through” something so incredibly strong and from the core of your very DNA? I couldn’t do it. I yelled something like “This baby is coming NOW,” just like in the movies (it was pretty funny in hindsight) and my little bundle of joy was delivered by Dr. Resident and Med Student. Dr. Attending got there in time for the (brace yourself) placenta. Nurse Amazing said I pushed for less than 3 minutes and she came out all at once. (overshare again? Hard to tell with the subject matter at hand) The Zen Master even filmed the last few minutes (from over my shoulder, it was very The Learning Channel, not HBO) and he cut the cord which he got a little skeeved out about.

So anyway, the experience was amazing and from start to finish took 6 and a half hours. I’m really proud of myself, it was a short labor but extremely intense and I went through 90% of it with no drugs. I’m pretty glad I did get the epidural when I did anyway because I don’t think I could have experienced that urge to push with the distraction of all the intense pain I was having.

All in all… Yay me! Life is good.

Funniest thing I heard all day

While changing The Peach, the following exchange occurred between me, my mom and Princess Punk;
Me (while wiping Peach’s tiny little bottom)- Wow, she really doesn’t like those cold wipes on her hiney.
Mom- Don’t you mean her taco?
PP (with a perfectly straight face)- She doesn’t have a TACO, there’s no lettuce on it.

Nuff said.

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