Fear and Loathing in DC (or) I May Have Earned Another Gold Mom Star

I have a very good friend who lives in Alexandria. If you are not aware this town is near/on the edge of DC. She has been campaigning for me to come visit her for about two years now. At first my excuses were the typical, "I'm just so busy..." or "This month is booked, let's try and set something up a couple months from now..." After this excuse I would have to ignore her emails for a bit. Either way, I was dodging the inevitable, driving in the general direction, and to the out skirts of, Washington DC.

I have an irrational and unfounded fear of DC. Well, I guess it is not so unfounded. The first time I ever...EVER drove there it literally took me 2 hours and 40 minutes to figure out how to leave. To me DC is like some sort of black hole filled with crime, destruction and general scary stuff. (I know I am overreacting on most accounts here, but it's what I picture so there you have it.)

My friend caught me with my guard down and I agreed to drive to Alexandria with Parker to meet her for lunch. (deep breath deep breath- just the thought makes me light headed.)

Parker and I start our day as normal- gym, bottle, shower and then were we on our way to the DC area. We are about 20 minutes from home and running a little late (see previous entry on leaving the house in a timely manner ha!) when I realized I had to pee. Here I am faced with the choice to hold it when I am driving to a place I have never been, which is located in a land that terrifies me. I fear how long I will actually have to hold it and what if I get to the point where I may be about to burst and am in the depths of the city, would the corner bum let me use his bench as a potty?!
Before it got to that point, I pulled over at a WAWA in a familiar area and got P-man our of his seat heading to the bathroom.

It was a little odd using the potty with a babbling baby who just learned how to do raspberries sitting on your lap, but I'm a mom and it's what we do.

I managed to get my pants down without a problem. I managed to pull them back up with out a problem, however, I was wearing jeans.

I stood there for about a minute holding Parker, pants up- unbuttoned trying to figure out exactly how to button my pants with one hand. Parker was oblivious as he was still blowing raspberries on my face and was therefore no help what so ever. I tried several times to button my pants with one hand to no avail.
I tried pulling the zipper up and then button them- no luck.
I even tried to convince myself that if I just held Parker down low and walked to out quickly, I would be able to get to my car without anyone noticing.
I ended up balancing Parker between the toilet paper dispenser and my own stomach and saying a quick prayer while buttoning my pants. All is well and we left the WAWA and headed toward the dreaded DC area.

We got there just fine, had a nice lunch and visit with my friend. Since we got there ok, I figured we would be a-ok on the way out. However, I figured wrong.

Much like a lot of cities, you cannot really go the way you came because of one way streets and dead ends. Any logical person- or if I were not already a insanly apprehensive about being in the city, I-probably would have been able to figure out how to get out with no problem. However, since I had been trapped in DC once before, I immediately went into panic mode and started sweating as my eyes filled with tears. I also cannot be held responsible for the words coming out of my mouth at that moment in time.
I tried calling my friend, but her cell phone died while we were out and she did not have the charger. I tried calling Josh, although I do not know what he would have done, he has never been to Alexandria.

As I am driving around in a frantic panic I hear unmistakable grunts from P-man in the back. His face was turning red and he was making his signature poop-face.
You.
Have.
GOT.
To.
Be.
KIDDING!

Despite my destine and fear of DC, I am an excellent parallel parker. So I whip my Santa Fe into a spot as traffic is whizzing by. My plan was to get in the back so I could change the monkey.
I look up and I see someone loading stuff into the back of a truck. My first thought is, "Great I will ask him for directions!"

In hind sight I realize this man may have been robbing the store he was in front of as he was moving quickly and seemed generally shifty- who knows, maybe I am stereotyping- I was scared. Although, given my mental state at that moment, he is lucky I did not just get out and pepper spray him. I am sure he saw me pull up in front of the "No Parking" sign and attempt to exit my vehicle despite the thundering traffic and thought "Dumb suburban mom."

When there was a break in traffic I got out and asked him out to get to 495 or mainly Maryland. He told me to stay straight and stay in the right lane and follow signs to Baltimore.

WRONG

Stay straight- correct

Follow signs to Baltimore- correct

Stay in the right lane- WRONG

I basically ended up driving horizontally across a vertcial traffic pattern to get to the exit. I some how ended up on Rt. 50 meaning I got home from DC by way of Annapolis. For those of you not familiar with the area, that is like going from California to Texas by way of Ohio.

I am writing this though so we are home safe.

Disclaimer- Alexandria is actually very cute, kind of like Annapolis or a small New England town- clearly not the crime riddled picture I have in my mind. I mean they have a Starbucks and people leash up their dogs while they go inside to grab a latte.

Mom hint- I always have a couple Zip-Lock bags in my diaper bag for just situations like this, messy diapers and no where to throw them away. I toss the soiled diaper and wipes in the Zip-Lock until I come to a trash can. These bags are also useful if clothes get wet with drool or soiled from an explosive situation. They take up virtually no room in the diaper bag, but can be SUCH a life saver.

There you have it.

Happy Halloween

October 31, 2008- Parker's first Halloween!

If you can't tell from the picture, he was some sort of monster/dragon thing. It actually said "little monster" on the bottoms of the feet. (See Below.)

He hated the hood, but was pretty agreeable to wearing it for a bit. We took him to two friend's houses and then came home to hand out candy. We only took him to two houses because Josh has strong feelings about not taking kids out trick or treating if they do not even have teeth. Because of our venture out to TWO houses we missed the bulk of tricker treaters leaving me with a large basket of Milky Ways, Skittles and Junior Mints to eat by Thanksgiving because I hate to mix my holidays. No worries, I feel up to the challenge.

In addition to his feeling about babies trick or treating, Josh refuses candy to anyone with basically a sweatshirt and tennis shoes on as a costume. He also is strongly against kids over the age of about 12 coming to the door for candy. Josh wants kids, he wants costumes and he wants to hear "Trick or Treat!" Darn it!

In fact, last year he was attempting to take a stand on this issue. After a few hours of doling out stale Starbursts and Snickers to, as Josh puts it, unappreciative teenagers who are much to old and had uncreative outfits, he decided to make these "kids" work for their candy. If you had a five o'clock shadow and a W-2 you either had to work for the 50 cent candy or move along.

Josh did everything short of asking teenagers to tap dance and then mow the lawn.

Finally, feeling superior to the neighborhood rif-raf a oldish looking child comes up. Now, we have a small porch with 3 steps. Josh sits on the porch to hand out the candy, but wants the kids to make the effort to come up the few steps we have- If you can't do steps, you can't get candy.

So this oldish child comes up. I was not out there, so I am not sure how this kid actually came up, but nonetheless, he asked Josh for candy. This is how it went down:

Josh: Come on kid, why can't you at least come up here to get the candy?!

Kid's mom: He has Spina Bifida and has difficulty with stairs.

*Note: It may not have been Spina Bifida, but we know he could not walk up the steps.

Josh:---

(After a few awkward silent moments seeming like hours)

Josh: Oh I'm sorry dude! Here have some extra candy!

(Toss handfuls upon handfuls into the kids bag.)

Kid's mom: Oh, he can't hear you, he's deaf.

Play on Josh, play on.

Side story: While I did not vote for Obama, I think it is rather remarkable that our nation elected a man who physically does not fit the mold that has been cast by thousands of years of American history.

Now, we need to stand together as a nation and lead by example for all our little guys and gals. Who knows who will be the next President, literally!

Ok, I'm off that soapbox and back into that basket of Halloween candy!!

Don't Let the Light From Above Fool You...

This boy is no Angel after what he did today!

This is his third outfit for the day. It is 3p.m. and he is wearing jammies.

He must be channeling his inner Hugh Hefner, ya know, minus the ho-bags and whatnot.

The first outfit was a cute pair of brown baby cargo pants and a long sleeved green onsie with a moose on it. Underneath the moose it said "Little Guy". I'm not sure what "Little Guy" has to do with the moose, but there you have it. Of course, this was also his first time wearing this shirt/onsie. With both of us dressed and ready to go, we headed off to the gym. Some how his bottle leaked all over him. The day care lady actually had to come get me because it was leaking so much. To solve the mystery, I unscrewed and then rescrewed the top back on. No more leaks. Special touch I have.

We came home and selected a different long sleeved onsie, same pants though.

P.S. I LOVE selecting his clothes and I find it very interesting that this side of 3 years from now he will be picking out his own stuff and I will likely be running errands with the superhero of the moment complete with cape.

Anyway, his second outfit was a cute blue onsie with light blue dogs on it and it said "Dog Gone Cute" across his chest. Dog Gone Cute indeed!
We went to Target to return some stuff and buy monkey a new book- Curious George Travels or something...
While we are in the store he throws up on himself. I wipe away the baby bile with the sleeve of my own shirt and move on. Really, this does not even phase me and would not warrant an outfit change, for either of us. However, what happened on the car ride home can only be described as foul.

We are riding along. Sleeping monkey in the back.

I look in the rear view to check on him and he is awake, but not crying. Good.

Then I hear it.

A tummy rumble worthy of a full sized truck driver man.

I mean he was in the backseat I was in the front, with the radio on and I heard the rumble.

Darn it! Maybe I could just drive around until Josh is home and when I get there I will pretend to know nothing of what lurks in our sons' diaper. It will be as if it is a shock to us all.

Ok, ok I did not do that.
I drove home and since I had not had lunch yet, I put P-man in his Pack and Play and made myself a chicken sandwich. I ate it. I had to eat it for I knew once I changed the diaper all hope would be lost for lunch.

I laid a blanket on the floor and put P-man on top of it.

As I peeled off his baby cargo's I was smacked in the face with a terrible smell. Before I went any further I ran to his room and grabbed his PJ's and the rest of his dirty clothes, I knew a load of laundry was going to need to be thrown in the machine.

To spare you what I had to witness firsthand, I will not go into all the details. I will say though there was poop on his stomach. Nay, there was poop just about on his chest. I guess since he poo'ed in the seated position it projected up and around or something.

I shudder when I think of it.

My side story of the day is a special note to the man on the stationary bike next to me at the gym this morning.
Dear Sir:
Dear Old Sir:
Dear Old Gross Sweaty Sir in the t-shirt with the arm hole that was ripped down to your waist and it was obviously not suppose to be that way seeing as the shirt itself was practically see-through as it has likely been washed 4, 532 times,
You are old, sweaty and moley. Please wear an appropriate shirt or I will W-I-L-L throw up on you next time.
Regards
N. Phillips

Teething: Hell on Earth

Parker has begun teething. There is no easy or child-friendly way to say this- teething is a bitch.

Hell personified (at least up to this point of parenthood) is a teething infant.

Parker does not cry he is flat out screaming in pain. And if he can do this directly in my ear while tugging on fists full of my hair, all the better. Parker seems to be a misery love company type of kid.

Anyway, last night it took us from 9:30p.m. until 2:30a.m. to get him to finally fall asleep and stay that way. Josh and I took 1 hour shifts until the mission was complete. Finally around 2:00a.m. I gave him a shot of infant Tylenol and a few more ounces of formula and that did the trick. Although at some point during the day a friend suggested whiskey as a remedy to soothe the teething. I am still not sure if she meant the whiskey to be for Josh and me or Parker or a shot for each of us! I think the third option sounds the most reasonable.

This morning he was obviously still uncomfortable when he woke up around 9:15a.m.

I bought some infant Orajel a few days ago for just this occasion. The directions indicate that babies should not have the gel until they are 4 months old. We are mere days away from 4 month, so I gave in and rubbed some on his gums. Now I have never had to use Orajel so I was not aware exactly what would happen. So, like everything I give him, I took a dose myself.

Side note: The directions on the Orajel box also say you should not give it to baby more than 4 times a day for no more than 7 days. To this I say, "Why?'
Is Parker going to develop some sort of addiction?
Will I find him hurling himself out of the crib and army crawling to the kitchen to get his fix?
If the Orajel makes the crying stop, I think I can weather the Orajel addiction. I mean I pretty much control the situation anyway. Parker can't even hold his own bottle, I'm pretty confident that I can wrestle away a tube of Orajel.

Anyway, in the last 4 months I have taken infant Tylenol, infant Orajel, Mylicon, Gripe Water, infant vitamins and drank a mouthful of formula. The next question I usually get is, "What about breast milk?"
No.
No you sicko, I did not drink my own breast milk.
Which, by the by I am no longer nursing and I am wearing a normal bra again! All of you rejoice with me!

The Orajel numbed the area of my tongue I put it on and I'm guessing did the same for the little monkey, except on his gums.

Stay tuned because through all of this I can see that his gums on the bottom are white, but I cannot see or feel any teeth, so this is really just the beginning!

Also in other news (WARNING: cussing about to commence):
This is a notice to all strangers, especially those who are currently cleaning the floor at the local grocery store.
Ahem:
KEEP YOU EVER LOVING HANDS OFF MY BABY, BITCH!

(understand I am not calling Parker a bitch, rather I am referring to the grocery store employee)

The other day Parker, Josh and I were at the grocery store. Now, I realize P-man is exceptionally cute and this makes people want to touch him. However, if you are mopping up slop on the floor of a grocery store, please refrain from touching my child.
I was a few feet away and Parker was in his stroller, which Josh was pushing. The lady commented on the cutest of him (P-man, not Josh) and reached in to touch him. I shot Josh a looked that said, "Run her over! Run the bitch over with the stroller and don't look back!" Instead Josh stood there amazed that a stranger would do such a thing.
I ended up saying, "Parker, come to mommy."
And Josh awkwardly smiled and the grocery store employee and rolled away in my direction.

Apparently this is an epidemic. A girl I know had a stranger pull the pacifier out of her child's mouth to "see his precious face"

Sweet corn!? Who are these people!?

Nikki? Who Exactly is Nikki?

A funny thing happened today, a friend asked me how I am doing. She said, "I read the blog, but how are YOU doing?"

She is not the first person to ask me this question. However, this is the first time I tried to answer the question without referencing anything related to Parker. I sat there for about 5 minutes attempting to answer this very simple basic question.

This question that most people answer without even thinking. In fact, I have on occasion answered this question when I was not even really asked, but it was assumed that was going to be the next thing the person on the other end of the conversation was going to say or ask.

This question that most people just want the standard, "I'm fine." or "Good, you?" or "Great thanks!" type of answer.

However, because my friend put the YOU in capital letters, I felt the need to attempt to answer her without mention of my little monkey man. I do not feel I was very successful since my answer was something about work, which is neither entertaining nor does it actually answer her question. I guess I'm just a momblob now chocked full of stories about P-man's latest adventure, but is minimally aware of herself and her own actions.

In case you are wondering though we took monkey to get some pictures taken today, like I don't take enough of them already. I apparently felt the need to pay strangers $160 for pictures that pretty much could have been done at home with a white fleece blanket and a boppy.

P.S. Boppy's are ok, but in my honest opinion are WAY over rated.

P.P.S. I wanted to get pictures of him in his Halloween costume, but by then the little bugger had enough of it and started crying, but we got some great shots nonetheless.

Back to the entry and me.
So to those veteran mom's out there...how do you answer the question, How are you?
Am I resigned to a lifetime of answering that question by going into a diatribe about Parker's latest poopy, or teething issues, or goal scored, or SAT scores etc. etc. etc.? I did not have this problem when it was just Josh, Abby and me.

I will say this though my singing abilities have gone down hill. I was in All County Chorus (ACC) in high school, for two years. I was in some sort of choral group from 5th grade through 12th and had a brief stint in college. I really liked, well I guess I still like, singing. I was by no means American Idol status, but I was good enough to at least be singled out by whoever picked the members of ACC and I liked that. However, recently I can't even carry a tune in my hand, it would just slip out like jello.

So to answer the question how am I?
I will say, I am great, but the rapid decline of my singing ability makes me slightly sad. Maybe one day I will try to join some sort of North Beach community choral group. However, I do not have high hopes since the only practice I get is in the car with one Monkey Phillips. I fear my chances are low of getting in this imaginary singing group. I also fear Parker will think that humming Somewhere Over the Rainbow in a way that makes it some how seem like the song is being played through bagpipes, will not fair well for his future singing career either.

And see it all came back to him!

HELP

Cry Baby

The gym will not only not change poopy diapers, but they will interrupt a work out to tell you that your baby will NOT stop crying.

I was about half way through my work out and the day care girl came up to me and said, "Mrs. Phillips...you are the last mom I ever expected to have to do this for, but we cannot get Parker to stop crying."

Then she stared at me until I figured out that this meant I had to stop working out and go deal with the monkey. This actually took me a few seconds to realized because I was in denial that I was not going to get to finish my work out because my son was being a crank.

I followed her to the day care area and sure enough I found a screaming Paker with a very red face and tears practically flying out of his ducts.

I tried, unsuccessfully, to soothe him so I could resume my work out (mother of the year, I know). When I realized that he was just not having it, I packed up his stuff and shuffled out the door with my head down. The door that is literally 6 feet from where I just was with screaming baby numero uno.

He stopped crying as soon as I got outside.

I mean immediately.

Immediately.

I almost turned back around to resume my work out.

Almost.

Instead, I continued the very short walk to the car, whereupon I put the monkey in his seat and before I walked around to the driver's side, he was sleeping.

Seriously?!!?

So I drove the boardwalk near our house and walked. While he slept in the stroller.

Yes I had the stroller with me, come on!

This was a Tuesday which meant he was going to go to the sitters house while I went to school to teach. I tried to warn the sitter that he was in an ornery mood and relayed the story of the gym. At which time, monkey started laughing...he actually started laughing. When I looked at him and said, "Parker, it is not funny to get kicked out of the gym." He smiled.

He repeated this reaction when I told Josh of our gym adventure...or misadventure as it were.

(I fear for our future if he is already getting kicked out of places and laughing about it...)

I guess in the end I can understand where he is coming from, sometimes, it is just not a gym kind of day.

Above is a picture of him smiling, no doubt he is thinking about how he got us kicked out of the gym.

Below is a picture of him giving his "pound" fist. He is so hip! Do the kids even say hip, these days?

Harvard? Is that you on the phone...

MENSA should be beating down my front door any minute.

Parker is 3 months old and he is holding his own rattle and...AND the boy genius rolled over! Clearly we have the next Phelps on our hands here...rolling over from your tummy to your back is an Olympic event, right?

I have packed away all of his newborn and 0-3 month clothes and washed and put away his "big boy" 3-6 month clothes.

He rolls all around in his crib and when I go to get him in the morning- after he has SLEPT THROUGH THE NIGHT- he is rarely in the same position he was in when I left him.

Now, I realize that this brings wonder and amazement to me and all who know me. Parker is growing so much and literally seems to change everyday or at least every 3 days. After a nap he loves to cuddle with his mom and he is starting to pay more and more attention when I read to him at night.

However, he is still very much a baby. I mean he doesn't even have teeth and he drools on himself regularly...wait doesn't that describe at least half of the guys I knew in college? Anyway, he is a baby...he poops in his pants and wait actually I think I knew some guys in college who did
that too...I'm getting distracted here and little off topic...
P.S. his pooping issues seem to be under control for now.

Let me try another approach.
A few weeks ago Josh and I celebrated 2 years of wedded bliss. We decided to go out to dinner mainly because it was that or have Doritos and Zima for dinner to celebrate the occasion. It was a Monday night and we figured most restaurants would be empty, so taking the monkey with us would be ok. Sometimes he can be a little...how shall I say this...socially unacceptable.
We were correct about the resturant being empty. (And the monkey was very well behaved.)

So, as we wheeled Parker up to the hostess stand.

In his stroller.

He was laying down in.

Because although he is a boy genius he cannot sit up yet. The young, naive hostess asked us if we want a kids menu.

HA.

Why do you have my breast milk as a feature item?

Bless her heart, sweet little thing.

I told her no, he has no teeth and I have a bottle for him.

A few days later I went out to lunch with a friend and Parker and the hostess asked if I wanted a highchair.

Well thank you darlin! While I only have about 3 to 5 more pounds to go until I am at my pre-baby weight, my ass is not small enough to fit into one of those cute high chairs. Also, I am tall enough to not only sit at the "grown-up table" but see over it as well!

When she pointed to Parker, who was busy bouncing his head around like that of a minor league baseball players' bobble-head doll they give out on opening day, I simply shook my head and said he was fine in the stroller.

All that aside. On to another one of my favorite topics: Ice cream.
Have you heard that some group in Europe somewhere wants Ben and Jerry's to start using breast milk, instead of cows milk, in their ice cream. Human breast milk.

Aside from the gross...extremely gross factor of breast milk in ice cream, who in their right mind would sign up to donate this milk. Would this be an acutal job with a W-2 and pention plan? "Hi my name is Nikki Phillips and I am here to hook-up ala cow on a dairy farm style! When is my lunch break?"