Wednesday, December 30, 2009

Not Allergies

After JG's doctor suggested it I made an appointment with an allergy specialist about a month ago and had been dreading it.  When I had my skin prick test at 14 (imagine lying face down on a table while they poke your back 100 times with pins and possible allergens to see how you react) it sucked.  But I made the appointment for JG after she screamed for three days after I ate some almond poppyseed muffins, which may or may not have been the offender.

My mom and sister both insisted we not go, fearing the skin prick test and how horrible it can be.  But all I could think about was my screaming baby and how wearing it is to try and deal with her when she's like that.  I had to know what was wrong and exactly what I had to avoid.

Thankfully the allergist was very nice and immediately knew what was going on with JG - it's not allergies, it's protein-induced proctitis.  Basically, her colon has a high intolerance/sensitivity to cow's milk and soy proteins.  He said that about half of nursing mothers dump their protein into their milk while the other half don't, and it's common for babies with protein-induced proctitis to suffer from malnutrition -- at this point he looks at JG with her shirt off and says, "Obviously that is a problem she doesn't have."

She's a bit chunky.

Everything I eat goes into my milk.

Then they did the skin-prick test to verify is initial diagnosis.  When the doctor and nurse said that a lot of babies don't usually mind being poked Alex and I looked at each other and almost rolled our eyes, thinking, "They haven't met our child."

Alex held her and, amazingly, she didn't cry at all.  She gave the nurse a crusty look, but was otherwise calm and held on to her dad.

And behold, she is not allergic to anything they tested for.  Not milk, not almonds, not grass, nothing.

However, the allergist suggested I avoid soy products as well.  I love soy sauce.  Booger.

The good news is that most babies outgrow this type proctitis anywhere between nine and twelve months.  She's seven-and-a-half months now, so it is possible that in the next two months she could outgrow this...  But I'm willing to bet she'll have it for the full twelve months.  Which is fine.

I just look forward to eating whatever I want next summer and putting on twenty pounds.  Seriously.  I weigh about 105 right now and I am freezing all of the time.

I have no ass.  My pants don't fit.  But still my boobs are big enough that my old shirts don't fit either.

Joy.


Sunday, December 20, 2009

Failure & Success

Sewing Failure:





And sewing success:




Making a pattern for a doll is ten times easier than making the pattern for the doll's clothes.  I find it to be a very frustrating process, but I am slowly learning how it works.  Of course, it helps if I add the extra quarter inch into the pattern itself (second set of pictures) rather than trusting myself to do it myself later with the material (first set of pictures)...  


Hey, I'm learning dammit.  Also, working with knit is sort of a pain in the butt, however the dress/slip looks nice and hangs well.  And it fits her without being overly big or too too small.  


Random note: this is what my mornings look like:



Thursday, December 17, 2009

Baby Farts

You know, I never stopped to think how difficult it must be to be a baby.  To have to learn to sit and roll and use your mouth to make sounds.

Or how to get your guts to get rid of that damnable gas that keeps creeping in to your belly.

The best part about this gas is that it attacks in the middle of the night, and it wakes JG up every time.  She can't fart whilst sleeping, no.  She must cry and wake me up so I can hold her, then she farts.  Like an adult.  Loud and lately stinky.

It doesn't matter if she's sleeping in her crib or in my bed, if she's gassy she's awake, which means I'm awake too.

I'm tired.

At what point in life do we start to deal with gas as if it was nothing?  I know for me, growing up in a house where the word "fart" was never uttered let alone released, that maybe I didn't deal with it until I was in college sometime.  

But I know at some point I stopped waking my mother up to share my gassy morsels with her...

Right?

Maybe it's just JG's way of letting me and Alex know that she really is OUR daughter.

Saturday, December 12, 2009

Just Curious...

So...

Tiger Woods is a cheater, which I honestly have to say I am not that surprised about.

Think about it, if you were the most popular man on earth, and you could have or do anything you wanted, what would you do?

Okay, maybe your answer is not to cheat on your hot model wife, but hey, everyone to their own taste.

The only thing I am surprised about, appalled really, is his taste in women (other than his hot model wife).  I mean, if you're going to go outside of your marriage for, whatever it was he went for, wouldn't you go for the other hot models?  Or other beautiful women?

Not the trashy, bleached her own hair, has face piercings, looks like a hooker but isn't?  I mean, at least a high paid escort will keep your secrets, and is probably ten-times more attractive than the dozen or so ladies he stepped out on his wife with.

Wait, not ladies... lady is a word reserved for a woman of high-class, who is thoughtful enough not to sleep with another woman's husband.  Tiger did not cheat on his wife with ladies, he cheated on his wife with what looks to me like... well, trash.

What an idiot.  Even worse though, an idiot with bad taste.

Friday, December 11, 2009

Production

I have spent the last two weeks preparing for the Sisters & Friends Boutique (you'll find the address there) my mom is holding at her house in Ogden.  This means I've been making toys like crazy... or, you know, more quickly than I usually do.

Because it normally takes me two weeks to make one thing.

So, please awe in amazement that I made nine, COUNT THEM, nine toys for this boutique.  I know, I am amazing...

Or I just started to have fun making monsters:






These adorable little creatures are available for a $20 adoption fee, which will go toward paying off student loans.

When asked about their future homes, most monsters said, "Please, just get me away from that crazy baby.  She keeps shaking her head and grinning at me..."






I also have two dolls, but I'm trying to figure out their faces:  I think I'm going to have to unpick them and try something else.

They just don't evoke that "ahhhhh, cute" that I was hoping for.

Eh, try, try again.

Also, one last selling point.  If you're still searching for a special gift, and you would like to try and pawn off somebody else's creation as your own, feel free to do so with my toys!

I won't tell a soul.

Wednesday, December 09, 2009

Quandary

JG is wearing her last diaper.

There are no more diapers in the house.

She just pooped a gallon in her last diaper.

We only have about 20-30 minutes before her morning nap.

Quandary:  Do I run to Costco now to get diapers and bread and such

OR

do I let her sit in a gallon of poo over her nap?

Hmmm.



SOLUTION:

We had to run to Costco.  JG was basically wearing a cup-full of poop (in her last diaper) and I would feel so guilty if I left her in that thing for two hours to find a very red bottom at the end of it.

Diaper rash is the worst.  So, a quick trip through my lovely Costco where I received many strange glances as we raced through the isles.  It was great fun...

Friday, December 04, 2009

Wednesday, December 02, 2009

Transitions

Babies.

Babies are interesting beings.

They are constantly evolving and becoming something new.  Who they were a week ago is not who they are today.

At least, this is what I'm learning from JG.  Just when I think I have her figured out, she flips like a coin and she's someone I haven't met before.  Which is REALLY frustrating.

I am a creature of status quo, and love and expect things to stay the same.  I know how to deal with sameness.  And I know having these sorts of expectations for a baby is just setting myself up for failure.

BELIEVE ME, I KNOW.

For those times when I am tearing my hair out and on the verge of collapsing to my knees and submersing my head in bleach, I call my parents.

Thank Jesus they live close.

The amount of sanity I still have left in my head can be attributed to my mother and father.

Thanks you guys.  REALLY.


And to think, this is what makes my life difficult and wonderful all at the same time!