When Your Ego Takes a Hit

I love good food, and I think I'm a decent cook. (Is that a vain thing to say?) In fact, I have been told that food is my love language. Having a baby? Have a family illness? Anyone in your family having surgery? No problem. I'll provide dinner! I'm not great at providing other services for the people I love, but I can usually give food.

I enjoy cooking, and I love baking, especially in the Fall when the weather chills up a bit, and warming up my kitchen with yummy smelling baked goods is just the right thing to take the bite out of the air.

Now, here's the problem. My little house has a lovely, brand spanking new kitchen. The landlords fixed it all up, with new tile floors and new cabinets. It's beautiful! They even installed granite countertops. Problem, you say? It sounds glorious!

The problem is the oven. Right now, I'm wishing they had saved their money on the countertop and bought a new oven. The one in the kitchen is old and unpredictable. I have discovered that I have to set the temperature at least 25 degrees cooler than specified in any recipe. AND I have to bake things for much less time than recommended (think 7 minutes for 11 minute cookies).

Even then, I'm always guessing. I have ended up with crispy cookies (I like 'em soft), dry pear bread (it is HARD to turn pear bread dry), and my latest "creation", this lovely banana bread:

Ouch!

This has a big possibility of having a seriously negative effect on my reputation. I promise that it's the oven's fault. Please don't judge me.

Event Confusion

I think Gunner is a little confused by time and spacial relationships. Today he said the following:

Mommy, will you get my birthday out?

I want to go to Halloween.

My birthday starts on Wednesday.

On an unrelated note, and in honor of Liz Lemon (although he has never seen an episode of 30 Rock), he has said, entirely unprompted, and on many occasions, "I want to go to there."

Me too, Gunner. Me too.

Wild Goose Chase

Hobbes is a puker. Anyone who has been around him has either been repelled by his constant state of wetness, or baptized by a large volume of baby vomit. All babies spit up, but his puking seems excessive, although it doesn't seem to bother him. It bothers me with the extra laundry I have to do, and the fact that he has ruined my carpet! I brought it up with his doctor at his 6-month check-up, and he prescribed a reflux medication, Prevacid (Lansoprazole), in pill form. We were to administer it by crushing it up and mixing it with some baby food.

Keep in mind that Hobbes is only 7 months old, and at the time we got the prescription, he had been eating solid foods for exactly one day. Getting him to swallow enough of it to be effective has been challenging, if not absolutely futile.

It hasn't been working, or doing anything at all, from our perspective. My carpet is still consistently being doused by little wet orange blobs of vomit.

Spiff mentioned that the medication could be formulated into a liquid format for easier administration, so I called the doctor's office to see if we could get that done. Piece of cake, said the nurse. She'd call it in to the pharmacy of my choice.

I chose the Costco pharmacy close to my house, and because a series of unfortunate events, I was unable to go pick it up for about 6 days. At the end of my shopping trip, I checked at the pharmacy. They said they hadn't filled it because they didn't have Hobbes's name/info in the system. I gave it to them and left, to pick it up another day, feeling guilty that Hobbes still didn't have his medicine.

The Costco pharmacy called me back later that day to say that they couldn't fill the prescription because it had to be "compounded" and needed to go to a compound pharmacy that could do it.

Slightly frustrated and quite confused as to what that means (although Spiff said, "Yeah, I thought that might be a problem.), I called the recommended pharmacy. They were super helpful, and all they needed was the number of the Costco pharmacy so they could get the script transfered.

New Compounding Pharmacy called back a few minutes later to tell me that Costco didn't have the script. I was confused because I had talked to them two days earlier, and they said they had it, but hadn't filled it yet. New Compounding Pharmacy then called the doctor's office to get a new script.

The Doctor's Office called a few minutes later to say that they needed to call New Compounding Pharmacy, but they didn't have the correct phone number.

New Compounding Pharmacy called several hours later to say that the new prescription was ready. The pharmacist said that Costco had lost the script, and she was confused as to why Costco couldn't fill it because it wasn't something that needed to be compounded.

It was, in fact, a pill.

Seriously?!

I wonder how or if this pill is any different than the one we already have. I also wonder where the confusion was in the first place. Yikes!

She said that it was something I can dissolve in a liquid and give to him in some water (which he doesn't drink) or his bottle (which he doesn't use because he is breastfed). Eventually, she understood that I would need a container and a syringe in order to dissolve the pill in a small amount of water and give it to him via syringe.

This sure is a lot of work for some reflux that doesn't seem to bother him. I'll pick up the prescription tomorrow, and then we'll finally be able to give this new medicine a try. I also sure do hope that it's the end of the story.

Small Things

Just a few things Gunner did today that made me laugh. I had to share:

#1:

Gunner: Can I have one of your cupcakes?

Me: Yes, as long as you give me a big hug and tell me that you love me and that I'm your favorite momma in the whole big world.

Gunner: I love zjew. I'm your big momma in the world favorite whole now.

#2: (while Spiff was attending the Tour of Utah with a buddy who picked him up from our house)

Gunner: Did Daddy go to a bike race? Who's his friend?

Me: That was Daddy's friend Sean.

Gunner: Sean the Baptist?

And #3: Here's what has been keeping Gunner entertained the past couple days. These are motorcycles made out of playdough (my handiwork. Aren't I artistic?). His hands are the riders, and they had to have helmets. I wish you could hear the dialogue that goes with it. I think I'm almost as entertained by it as he is.

Did he make you smile?

As Requested

I have had a couple requests to explain the "Magic Pooping Toy." So here's an explanation, and then I promise to stop talking about poop.

My dear friend, Pulcheria, gave this advice as a comment to a previous post. (Pulcheria, I hope it's okay with you that I'm reposting it here.)

"The pooping was my biggest stress too! And Beemer had issues. She would hold it until we put a diaper on her at night for a long time. Or have accidents like you are dealing with. AT finally made her a poopoo necklace that she could wear on the potty. It was a magic necklace that would help her poop when she needed too (it was really just a button on a string) and it worked! So our suggestion is a new car that he can hold or some article of clothing he can wear only on the potty that is magic. Oh, and a diet coke for you!"

Like I said, she and her husband are brilliant. I think this type of insight is a rare and beautiful thing.

Ch-ch-ch-changes

Yessir, things are changing around our little household. Here's what's happening:

First of all, Spiff started his intern year doing outpatient internal medicine. It's definitely not his favorite thing to do, but the schedule was glorious. Mon-Fri, 8-5:00, with weekends and holidays off. I knew it wouldn't last, and I told myself I knew what was coming, but I don't think I was emotionally prepared for how difficult his new inpatient medicine schedule would be. He leaves the house at 5:30 in the morning and doesn't get back until 9:00 on most nights. We knew going into this internship that it would be hard. We knew that the interns at his hospital work hard, and I told myself I was prepared for all the single-mothering I would be doing. I think I told myself a big fat lie, and that nothing really could prepare me for having him gone through the boys' breakfast, lunch, dinner and bedtime almost every day of the week. We miss him.

Second, we got our huge Double Bob jogging stroller (thank you for the delivery, Spiff's Mom!), and because of Spiff's awesome schedule, I have been taking my kids running with me. The stroller is great and handles like a dream, but it's still so so so hard pushing an extra 70 pounds of stroller and children while I run. It's a totally different kind of workout, physically and emotionally, but I'm grateful to have the option.

Also, I started running with my neighbor. For two days now, we have packed up our kids and taken them with us. It's nice to have the company, and I'm glad to have a new friend and a great way to get to know her better.

Third, I decided that it's time to start sleep training Hobbes. He's 6 1/2 months old, and up until this point, he slept like a dream. I could just swaddle him up, give him a binkie, put him down, and he'd be out like a light. He still sleeps well at night, but this week, he has been refusing his naps. I remember this point when Gunner was a baby when we realized that what had been working for us (which was rocking him to sleep) wasn't working anymore. It was time to sleep train.

Like most mothers, I have such a hard time sleep training my babies because it's so very difficult to hear them cry. I second guess myself all the time, wondering if he's hungry, cold, wet, poopy, or if there's something else I should have done to prepare him for sleep. This morning, he cried for 40 minutes, and the whole time I said my mantra to myself, "He will eventually go to sleep. He will eventually go to sleep." And I have to remind myself that it's the best thing for him to learn how to comfort himself and go to sleep. It's a valuable skill, and he needs to learn it, even though hearing my sweet, easy-going little baby cry makes me want to scratch holes in my window with my fingernails.

And last, but not least, I'll update you all on Gunner and the pooping. We have both been really frustrated. We stayed home from Sacrament Meeting on Sunday so that he could poop. It took the whole hour for success. He has been asking for diapers and telling me that it's too hard. Thank you for your advice and suggestions. Pulcheria, I have a "magic pooping toy" on my shopping list for the day. I think you're brilliant.

And now I have a triumphant story to tell. Brace yourselves, folks because this is amazing! This morning while I was stuck on the couch nursing Hobbes, I asked Gunner to go to the bathroom to wash his hands. I heard the water go on and off, but Gunner didn't come out of the bathroom. I didn't know what he was up to, and I nervously waited until he finally called out to me, "Mommy, I made some logs! Come here and see!"

Yep, my little boy went poop in the potty All. By. Himself. He decided he had to go, pulled down his pants, positioned his step stool and the toilet seat, and pooped without any assistance at all! I almost cried out of joy and pride. I really hope that this good experience is the turning point for him, and that he'll finally have the confidence to conquer this hurdle for good. Go Gunner Go!!!