bustle-y day

from the mind (ha!) of cookie dog:

***barking at the wind! barking at the wind! barking at the wind! barking at the wind! -pause- sniffing my ass. barking at the wind!***

from the mind of nandie pants:

***barking at the wind! barking at the wind! barking at the wind! barking at the wind! -pause- sniffing cookie's ass. barking at the wind!***

from the mind of suki:

**SHUT UP I KEEEEEL YOU BOTH!!!***

santa can suck it

Santa,

You fat dirty fuck! What a wonderful gift I got...half a night's sleep.

JUST ONE TEENY HALF.

When I asked for 5 hours of uninterrupted sleep...I didn't mean Monday.

I MEANT EVERYDAY.

but you knew that, didn't you?

you dirty cocksmoking sumnabitch. enjoy watching the suki suffer, don't you? I'm dying over here, and you love it. you, sir, are one sick fuck.

from now on,

I'm writing my letters to the easter bunny.

Suki

Ps. I hope you choke on the cookies, douchebag.

got what I wanted!

Dear Santy Clause,

Thank you for the bestest Christmas present ever...

5 whole uninterrupted hours of sleep!!!

It was the bestest gift ever ever ever ever!

Love,
The Suki

too busy to bitch...err, I meant blog

firstly, I hope everyone had a super duper holiday. honestly...I mean that. (believe it or not hehehe)

ours was...hectic. christmas eve never happened for us.

the prof is not doing so hot, lately. he stopped breathing in the middle of the night and has pretty much been screaming non-stop for days.

I'm hoping dietary changes will hook him up with some relief...if not, my god. the poor thing will just continue to suffer.

we made christmas morning happen. it was nice. small family. little bit of food and "grab bag" presents.

my grandfather got a bag of bows...and someone got my car keys.

we're broke. it was late. I was tired...I'm still looking for one of the dogs.

the prof is still in bad shape (in fact screaming his head off downstairs with 'pah)...so I'm a bit (more) frazzled (than usual).

while the holiday wasn't all sugar plums and candy canes...

it didn't totally blow, and quite frankly...

at this stage in the game, I'll take that.

Happy Holidays from teh Sukster, the 'pah, monkey and Mr. Ballistic!

Christmas is a cluster fuck

we not only dried the tree off...but completely out, as well.

I'm guessing it'll last 'til the 26th...maybe longer since my sunroom is about 14 degrees.

we went to the mall tonight. the far away mall. the its so damn cold you can't open your car door and you're now trapped in the mall-mall.

the griswalds got nothing on us.

the prof went ballistic. overstimulated. I guess nursing him in the food court was just too much...

so I finished in Arby's.

the monkey slammed the grocery getter's hatch on my head. oqui kicked me and I tore the nail on my business finger into the nail bed.

in retaliation I:

-punched the car
-scratched the kid
-kicked oqui back
-and gave myself the finger

I still don't have any gifts for anyone. I haven't made any that I said I was going to. my house is really REALLY really trashed, now (like the dogs got into the diaper pail kinda trashed). I'm broke and have no food and have to cook for the party that was supposed to be here, but is now moved elsewhere because I cried like a little girl about it...

and I forgot, ever so briefly, about the prof's disastrous reaction to dairy, drank half a milkshake and he's once again pooing green and screaming bloody murder.

anyone know where I can get me some tofu cheese?

never mind. don't answer that. if it came to tofu cheese...



I'd...well, let's just hope it doesn't come to that.

treesicle

we're really not very bright.

we finally decided today to get our tree (I was convinced that if I stayed angry enough christmas just wouldn't happen this year...but lo and behold the fucking thing showed up, anyway).

its cold as shit, so we get bundled of all bundled up and drag our sorry asses, the prof AND the dogs out to bumblefizzle to tag our tree.

we had either completely forgotten our recent "winter weather events" or...we're just plain dumb.

we're heading on down the highway, over the river, through the woods and past the frozen power lines when I start to get this niggling feeling that sumzhing...just aint right.

glorious winter beauty abounds. an amazing blanket of white as far as the eye can see. trees, shrubs, fields, roads...shiny. amazing. covered in ice.

how long do you cook a christmas tree?

I knew we were making a boo boo, but the car was loaded and I just didn't give a fuck. we picked our three hundred pound ice laden beast, strapped it to the roof of the grocery getter...scratches be damned.

we drug that mother fucker home, rather unceremoniously unloaded it (it's tremendous weight threw oqui about 14 feet when he let loose its bonds) and realized...

we didn't have the hole drilled in the trunk.

yeah. we're focking BRILLIANT.

so the treesicle is on the back porch, nestled snuggly under a tarp with a space heater running full blast for shits and giggles. we attempted to give it a new 'do with a blow dryer and realized...

we aint THAT fucking stupid.

next step is to drag it to the side of the house, fire up the clothes dryer and see if the vent won't do some damage to the ice floe.

if'n we ever get it defrosted...

we still have to figure out how to get that cocksucker to stand.

I like oqui's version better

"we're trully fucked" had me laughing out loud. at least he still has a sense of humor...

-------------------------------------------------------

This week has been just horrible!The weather is cold, cloudy and uninspiring. I've been literally breaking my back have had little quality time with the Prof, the dogs no longer recognize me, and I'm feeling drained, pale and stressed out.

The house is a constant battle, smells like pee and is ready for a nuclear weapon. Honestly, I can't wait to crawl into a deep coma and wake up in Utah!!!

Geneia and I are at each other's throats over any little thing. Having a baby has put a gigantic strain on our relationship.

The Monkey's grades have improved from last quarter, however I constantly have to make sure she completes the work, her room is more of a disaster than the rest of the house put together and she needs a major lesson in how to help out around the house without asking 40 times over the course of 7 days, and without the bullshit teenage attitude. She gets off Scott (haha) free here at home.

The Prof has been spitting, gagging and still has painful reflux. He's sleeping at best 5 hours a night but more like 5 minutes a night and both Geneia and I have suffered as a result. Sleep, what in the hell is that?

We have no money and are planning a family vacation to the bankruptcy court. We've also organized a charity toy drive for us. and are busy, busy, busy joining the growing mass of those less fortunate this season.

We're truly fucked.

Appreciation is certainly hard to earn. Positive attitudes are a thing of the past.

Sincerely,Mr. Scrooge McFucknut

bizarro blog

This week has been just excellent!

The weather is warm, sunny and inspiring. I've been taking lots of long walks with the Prof and the dogs, and the I'm feeling toned, tan and trim.

The house looks gorgeous and is ready for the holidays. Honestly, I can't wait for my entire family to come over for christmas. this'll be the best christmas EVER!!!

Oqui and I are closer than ever. Having a baby has worked wonders for our relationship.

The Monkey's grades have really improved, her room is clean and she's been a tremendous help around the house.

The Prof has really settled in nicely. no more spitting, gagging or painful reflux. He's sleeping peacefully through the night and I'm pretty well rested, myself.

We've got plenty of money and are planning a family vacation to the Mediterranean so we can just relax and enjoy each other some more. We've also organized a charity toy drive and are busy, busy, busy helping those less fortunate this season.

We're trully blessed.

spoiled rotten

rocking endlessly in my arms.

sleeping for hours on my chest.

occassionally weasling his way into bed with mommy and daddy.

cuddling, snuggling, noodling.

yup, teh Suki's getting spoiled.

he ran into my foot. honest

since my daily life brings absolutely NOTHING of interest these days...I'm gonna go ahead and start telling stories from my past.

gonna start small since my attention span is...ooh. look at the pretty flower!

Brian and Vicky. sister and brother. evil incarnate. they were the neighborhood bullies (until I inherited the spot) in my childhood...well, 'hood.

Vicky was considerably older than I was, thus, we had limited encounters. the only one I can CLEARLY remember was when she offered me a piggy back ride...

only to drop my dumb ass in a puddle.

fucking bitch. I told my Grampa (father of 11 of his own and pretty much EVERYBODY'S grampa...'cept mine that day). he found her on the playground. asked her what happened. she lied. he (at least appeared to) believe(d) her. I felt violated. only this morning did I realize that he was humoring her.

fucking bitch.

her hellion brother brian was closer to my age and we clashed almost daily.

all that ended when he accidentally ran into my foot. my grandparents owned an urban church and my father was the pastor. we were southern baptists, which I'm guessing explains a whole hella lot. every year missionaries from the DEEP DEEP south used to come up and stage vacation bible school. I hated that week.

we lived in the parsonage above the church, and were promptly evicted from our bedrooms to make space for classrooms all week. meaning...neighborhood kids were chilling in my bedroom and eating in my kitchen.

fucking bitches.

where was I? oh, yeah...brian and vicky. they were neglected, abused and acting out (frankly, so was I but nobody seemed to give a shit about that. now did they?)...and got away with MURDER because they "needed the attention."

round about wednesday of that week I had had enough of brian's incorrigable ass rumaging through my shit, raining on my parade and pissing me off.

so...I was standing on the steps outside. he approached from the sidewalk approximately 4 feet below...

and his mouth accidentally ran into my foot.

what I gotta say? the boy was clumsy.

-whistling innocently-

so I said I was gonna stop complaining of breast 'tenderness' and nipple pain, right?

right.

so....I'll have a coke.

The Prof seems to be having a pretty good day. we've elevated any and everything he lies on and I'm going dairy free.

I'm practically starving as I'm incredibly lazy and a glass of milk, cup of yogurt or piece of cheese are easy to grab and have been pretty much my only sustenance since the booger's birth...but it'll give me an opportunity to seek other...more creative...eating options.

like McDonald's and shit.

my poor baby :(

the good news is that wednesday's barium swallowing episode showed that he doesn't have pyloric stenosis and DOESN'T need surgery.

the bad news is that he has wicked reflux.

he snorts and has labored breathing.
his voice and cries are nasally and raspy.
he spits up...alot.
he has trouble nursing (hence my boobs being the single most painful thing on the planet..ever).
he's in pain.

Initially, I was convinced to medicate him. now that I've done more reading, I think I'm going to hold off on the drugs.

there are slings and pillows that elevate. I can eliminate some things from my diet. massage. etc...

if he's still in pain, though...I'll give him the zantac.

it breaks my heart to see that feeding him...

hurts him as much as it hurts me.

his comfort is waaay more important than mine.

I'm done complaining about my boobs, now. honest.

tall moment

I had a revelation last night. at least it seemed like one to my sleep deprived, slightly deranged mind...

and I felt really tall.

significant.

then it passed and I shrank (all but my muffin top, that is)...

and life continues.

if I should happen to find 6-8 minutes of uninterrupted time later, I might just fill y'all (yes. I just used "y'all") in on it.

this sucks

I'm fat.
It's raining.
I'm tired.
Babies are boring.

I'm out of chocolate.

for once

I'm irritated about something other than my good for nothing (but irritation) boobers.

in a fit of pregnancy...I gave away all my clothing.

not surprisingly, the only articles to survive the purgeocaust were my "climbing" clothes.

so I've got a closet full of racer back tanks, dirty long sleeve t's and fleece jackets...

all reeking of camp fire and making me hate my life just about now.

YETMEOUTTAHERE!!!!

I'm irritated.

raise your hand if you're surprised.

yesterday's visit was wonderful. besides the fact that she's obviously a baby whisperer and speaks infant...the lactation consultant really (really) knew her stuff.

instant diagnosis. immediate action plan to remedy the situmination. detailed instruction and demonstration.

and, of course, I can't do it at home.

fuck. fuck. fuck.

I was so excited when I left there that besides calling everyone I know...I almost cried. hallelujah. amen. my problems, they are a-solved.

fuck. fuck. fuck.

the prof isn't cooperating, I'm still in tremendous amounts of pain (no one seemed to realize exactly how distraught I was/am over this), and I don't have enough arms to do it right.

so, not only am I still chained to the sofa by my aching boobs...I've now had a taste of what it can be like...and a minimal amount of hope in getting there again on my own.

I suck.

after coming down from my this-woman-is-amazing-and-I-CAN-do-this-high...I think I feel even worse than before. I want this to work. I want this to stop being excruciatingly painful.

I want a life.

I tried to rebound from my fuck-the-cruel-cruel-world-this-isn't-working crash by turning it into a little game. instead of dreading each feeding, I'm making little wagers with myself as to my odds of getting it right.

obviously, I can only accomplish difficult things when:

a. angry (check)
b. challenged (check)
c. full of chocolate and/or vodka (quasi-check. I need a refill on vodka)

did I mention fuck? fuck? fuck?

in other news (besides fucking...cause that most certainly aint going on):
the monkey has been spiking a 103 degree fever for the last 3 days. not cool. it responds to fever reducers, and she has no other symptoms, so we really have no single solitary clue what the fiznuck is going on. alas, we keep pumping her full o'drugs and hope her brain doesn't fry...

anymore than her 13 year old hormones have already fried, that is.

oqui's office christmas party was yesterday and with the monkey having such a ridiculous fever, I asked my grandmother to come keep an eye on her while we were gone. we fully intended to take the Prof with us (like I was gonna leave him behind?!?!?), but grandma pulled a compelling lil "you know...you can leave him here, too" on me, and we had our first night out sans child...accidentally.

I was nervous and ready to go home, then I had a(n admittedly watered down) vodka tonic or two and felt a little bit better.

for 20 minutes.

the food was good, the people weren't too terribly boring (old people are kinky), but my boobs hurt and I was ready to bounce before I finished my salad.

so I finished my salad...and we eventually went home.

no injuries. minimal crying (on both the part of the Prof and my grandma). the monkey's core temp didn't exceed critical measure and my business cash wardrobe from days of yore managed to almost fit.

I was fucking hot.

but my boobs hurt...

so we came home.

now, I'm home, and lo and behold...

my boobs still hurt.

fuck the tatas.

getting help

NOT from a psychiatrist...at least not yet.

this whole breast-feeding piece is whooping my lilly white (and currently too large) ass.

I saw two lactation consultants already this week...no dice. apparently my issues require the big guns, so the prof and I are driving to philly for an appt at the breastfeeding resource center.

I hate driving. the prof hates when I drive. it's a looong looong way. this is most certainly going to suck.

HOWEVER, a friend of mine had multiple breastfeeding issues, hauled her ass to the BRC, got things straightened out and managed to nurse for 14 months.

fingers crossed, guys.

the prof and I are miserable.

truth be told

I'm getting a little sick of the baby thing.

I need to get out of the house.

today

totally sucked.

had an appointment for a nursing consultation at the birth center. of course, the prof screamed bloody murder, projectile vomitted and peed in his own eye.

I said to the midwife, "yeah. he's a bit 'opinionated" to wit she replied, "hmmm...wonder where he gets that from."

indeed. a rottweiler and a pitbull don't go giving birth to a golden retriever.

so he fussed, was forced to get nekkid in public, again and was completely out of sorts. he wouldn't latch, kept startling and screaming in his sleep and was generally fucked up.

...then the la leche league leader came over. too much. sensory overload. he went directly into a coma until she was ready to leave, at which point he exploded into a symphony of unhappy noises. fortunately, she's an old hand at fussy babies and danced with him a bit. he got quiet for 42.3 seconds...

then let loose hell's fury, again.

she left. he gnawed ineffectively on my boob for an hour or so then cried some more.

so now it's 11:30 at night, I haven't spent a minute with the 'pah (we even had to take turns eating dinner cause the prof needed soothing), stink bottom's belly is less than satisfied and I'm sore as shit.

I got a list of old wive's tale cures for breast plugs, all of which I'm going to try...repeatedly. if they don't work, I'm going to nurse exclusively on the left side. my right boob can go fuck itself.

so if you happen to see a lopsided boob chic with a screaming baby attached to her...that'll prolly be me.

today proved quite a few things to me, though:

-I know my baby. I know what he wants/needs, and when I can't or don't give it to him...I get what's coming to me

-complain as I might...I'm extraordinarily grateful. half a dozen women took the time to see me, visit my home, talk on the phone with me, research things for me, etc. I'm incredibly lucky to have that kind of support. I might be feeling icky over the prof's less than perfect latch...but at least he does. we're nursing (ineffectual and uncomfortable as it may be)...and that, in and of itself, is a blessing.

-my family likes sausage gravy and biscuits. I feel like an IHOP chef.

-I'm way more patient than I thought. I gotta give myself some props for holding it together so well while stink bottom freaked. the dark chocolate and vanilla stoli treat I promised myself when I got home helped...

-doing shots with your 13 year old daughter = probably not a good thing...

but kinda fun when you're having a shiteriffic day.

(relax...her's was half full and mostly orange juice)

-again...I can always cut the fucker (the fucker being my uncooperative tit) off.


for christmas, I just want my tata to stop hurting.

today

was better.



the prof and I cuddled, nursed, cuddled, nursed, watched some TV, drank some OJ, hit up the classical station...and cuddled and nursed some more.



kept the unreasonable, nerve piercing screaming to a minimum.



suki like. very nice.

ouch

my boob hurts.

like really really hurts. the thought was that I don't have a breast infection because I don't have a fever and I'm not slumped in a corner sobbing,

BUT...

I seem to have a plugged duct (or entire extended family of them) for about two weeks now. it hurts into my armpit, down my arm, into my chest and sometimes my teeth.

I'm doing everything under the sun to just MAKE IT GO AWAY!!

hot compresses, nursing like its my job, lots of fluids, as much rest as one can get with a crazy as a shithouse rat infant, massage, more massage and yet some more massage, change in activity (climbing can go fuck itself til my boob stops threatening to burst), change in diet (I threw out the bag of potato chips and didn't go to friendly's), I don't wear any constrictive clothing (I also threw out my nursing bras), standing on my head, nursing on my hands and knees and praying to buddha.

at this point, I'd be willing to kill a kitten if it would make this incessant, brain numbing pain go away.

fine. I can't actually kill a kitten, but I'd order that bitch's execution in a heartbeat.

I'm at the end of my rope (which magically seems to elongate every time I say/think/feel that way) physically, mentally and emotionally.

there is good news, however:

-I can always cut the fucker off (by fucker I'm referring to the boob and not the child)
-colic tends to last until the third month. no longer.
-the monkey has had great success in hushing the baby
-I feel zero remorse in saying no to absolutely every request for action. I'm not leaving this house for anything shy of antibiotics and/or a Mr. Miaggi massage.
-I'm justified in "resting"
-I can have sex...assuming Captain Cock Block goes to sleep
-technically, alcohol is no longer forbidden. I'm not sure I wanna liquor the lil' chap up TOO much...

but it might just have to happen (please refer to "I can have sex" bullet).

white boy for sale

what the hell happened?!?!?!?!?!?!

somebody hit the colic switch on our lil' dear and he's been wailing his ass off for days now.

nooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!

the novelty wore off about 8 seconds into his first crying jag (can you say tubal ligation?)...and now we're just trying to muddle through and keep coming up with new and exciting ways to shut the little shit up.

some snippets from last night's dialogue:

- "don't kick your dad in the dick. no, I said don't kick your dad in the dick."

- "you know, nobody WANTS to commit infanticide...but I can see how it would happen"

- "stop giving your mother such a hard time. those are good full boobies. now, settle down and suck (you ungrateful lil' *bleep*)"

- "I'm giving you another 40 minutes before I call the adoption agency"

- "sooo...you're sure you don't want any more (children), right?"

- "yes, yes. I know. it's dreadfully difficult being an infant. now shut up."

- "what the hell kinda party is this? all we've got to drink is MILK!"

and my personal favorite (after Oqui had enough, picked him up for a "man to man" talk, informed him that he was being unreasonable and he better get his act together...which he promptly did btw)...

"don't make me tell Daddy!!!"



obviously...I'm no longer in need of my fallopian tubes.