Puke doesn't come out of a white blouse

One of the cutest blouses that darling daughter sits on top of my dryer, stained. No amount of Nature's Miracle or Shout can get that stain out. If there is any hope in getting that eliminating that stain completely, then bleach is likely answer. But quite frankly I have been too lazy in the last week to get the bleach out and see if it will work its magic.

I don't know what I was thinking when I dressed darling daughter in her cute little white blouse for our road trip last week. It never occured to me that she would throw up her dinner at a fast food restaurant (we ate Burger King while she ate some wholesome bananas and pears out of a jar). Twenty minutes after getting back onto the road (obviously she was wearing fresh, clean clothing) she threw up again. I won't get into the gruesome details, but lets say what was coming out of her mouth was basically a river of puke that I caught with a blanket.

I have had some experience in stain removal and as soon as we arrived at my friend's house, I quickly sprung into action and squirted the shirt with Nature's Miracle, a product that my friend swears by. However, it was no match for the pears and bananas. I tried Shout when I got home. The stain was still there. I learned a lesson when it comes to road trips: don't put your children in clothes that are white in colour or that you love.

On cloud nine

I'm on cloud nine right now. In fact, if I was talented enough I would be doing a happy dance.

Two days ago, I learned that a nearby health care centre was accepting new patients. I am one of those lucky souls who has a family doctor. However, his clinic is an hour away. Plus, if you need to see him, it is almost like getting an audience with the Pope as he only works one day a week now in the office, according to the information I gleamed from the receptionist one day. So unless I already have a regular scheduled appointment with my doctor, I am basically SOL when it comes to emergencies.

So it came as quite the surprised when I found out that his particular health care centre was accepting new patients who already have a family doctor. Although I think my doctor is a wonderful physician, I had no other choice than to consider transferring to this clinic. Plus, dear husband, who is unfortunately one of those unlucky souls who doesn't have a dedicated family physician, desperately needs a family doctor. For all three of us to be patients at the same health centre that is close to home is a dream come true. You may think I'm over exaggerating my joy, but I have heard enough stories firsthand about the difficulties of finding a family doctor. It is almost an impossible task.

Today I learned that darling daughter and myself have been accepted as patients. I will fully do a happy dance once I learn that dear husband has been accepted as well. My fingers are crossed.

I'm not too sure why I am so excited. Maybe it is due to the fact that this health centre has a wonderful reputation. Maybe it is because it is close to home. Maybe it is because finally we will all be patients (fingers crossed) at the same facility. Or maybe is because I am one of lucky souls to have a family physician. In any case, I'm happy and I am hoping that dear husband will soon get a phone call saying he has been accepted too.

Using the F word

Formula. For some it is the F-word. For others, it means freedom.

I don't want to delve into the whole breastfeeding versus formula debate, but I am desperate to get darling daughter on the bottle. Once upon a time, darling daughter would take both formula and a bottle when we were struggling with breastfeeding. After we got the hang of breastfeeding, I'd pump and dear husband would give darling daughter pumped breast milk in a bottle. That routine worked up until she was about seven or eight months when she outright refused to take the bottle. Except for when I was extremely sick about two months ago and darling daughter had no other choice than to take a bottle, bottle feeding is basically non-existent in our house.

Although I have been blessed to breastfeed darling daughter, I'm thinking it is soon time to wean. I'm not too sure if I should say this out loud, but I am sooooo tired to wrestling with darling daughter during our breastfeeding sessions. She weighs 20 pounds and she has a mind of her own. Giving her the odd bottle of formula would give me some peace of mind as sometimes I worry if she is getting enough fluids.

So in the last week we have tried to reintroduce formula and, of course, she wants no part of it. According to dear husband, she lulls the bottle in her mouth, maybe consume half an ounce before rejecting the bottle outright. Since dear husband doesn't have the same anatomy as me, he is force to phone me, in a panic, because she won't eat. Pumping isn't an option as my electric pump is on its last legs. Also, I can no longer get enough milk when I do pump. My other option is a sippy cup. But since the bottle experiment isn't going so well, I can guarantee that she won't be all that receptive to a bottle.

So the battle continues. I will continue to breastfeed for the next couple of months, and try to introduce a sippy cup in hopes one day darling daughter will like something else other than my boob.

When plans don't go according to plan

Most times I am realistic, but sometimes I can be so naive. I have agreed to do some freelance writing work, which I am very excited about. In my head my plans would go something like this: put darling daughter down for her morning nap. Call multiple sources. Interview multiple sources. Review notes. Write stories while darling daughter takes a leisurely nap in the afternoon. File stories with editor that same day.

Obviously, I have a nine month old baby so my plans don't or just won't, on principle, go according to plan. Reality is something like this: fight with darling daughter for her to agree to take her morning nap, which usually lasts for 30 minutes. Quickly call sources. Find out sources are too busy or not in the office to talk to me. Curse. Curse some more. End cursing session when hear darling daughter wakes up from nap. Call sources later in the day while darling daughter plays in her play yard. Pray that source doesn't hear the nursery songs streaming from darling daughter's Vtech discovery nursery farm. Because you know, nursery songs playing in the background sound so-oh professional.

Oh, writing stories is a whole different story in itself. Writing doesn't get done during the day. Period. Even naptime doesn't bode well for writing. Even if I manage to get in the mood to write, it is usually comes to a screeching halt when darling daughter wakes up. Plus, she is just too cute not to pay attention to, even when she is playing quietly in her play yard.

So I'm not too sure how work at home moms work at home. Some days I can't get the clothes from the washer into the dryer between the hours of 8 a.m. to 5 p.m. I'm still trying to get my groove and writing is certainly during daytime hours is a work in progress.

Happy Mother's Day

Dear husband is bursting to give me my Mother's Day gift. He bought it today. I think it is a photo frame of some sort, but we will see tomorrow.

I'm still wrapping around my head that tomorrow I will be celebrating my first Mother's Day. It is pretty exciting, but at the same time it is surreal. I am a mother. I have a child. And tomorrow I will celebrate Mother's Day for the first time. I know for the next couple of years dear husband will be in charge of the gift buying as darling daughter still has a couple of years before she will be making me handmade cards and macaroni necklaces.

I must confess, I didn't put a lot of effort into Mother's Day for my mom. For me, it was just another day. I'm sure in time darling daughter will do the same thing, run out and buy last minute, half ass gifts. But since having darling daughter, I have grown to appreciate my mother in so many ways. She is a shoulder to lean on. An expert to consult in matters of parenting. A sounding board to bounce ideas off of. She is a wonderful woman and I'm kicking myself for not appreciating her more in my younger years.

I appreciate my mother so much more since becoming a mother and I am so grateful to have her in my life. So happy Mother's Day, mom. I love you. And Happy Mother's Day to all the moms out there. Enjoy your day, ladies!

Goodbye, dear friend

I know this day was coming, but it never easy saying goodbye to a dear friend.

Since darling daughter is now pulling herself up (yikes!) in her crib it is time to say goodbye to the Fisher Price rainforest mobile that has been whirling and twirling above my little darling's head for about the last seven months. When my mother bought it for us last fall, I scoffed. Who needs a mobile? I wondered in my sleep deprived haze. What a waste of money. I scoffed even harder when I discovered it came with a remote control. A remote control?!? That must be for lazy parents, I laughed to myself. I vowed not to use the remote control.

Well, didn't darling daughter fall in love the darn thing. And the rule that every new parent learns quickly is that you love what your little one loves, no matter what it is. And if that is a bright green mobile with a monkey, bird, lizard and butterfly that twirls to classical music while big green plastic leaves flap up and down, then you better believe I fell in love with that mobile, too.

The thing was a GODSEND! If I can remember correctly, darling daughter didn't sleep through the night until we assembled the mobile and started putting in her crib on a full time basis. Yes, the music got annoying, but if it kept her happy, I was happy. When we travelled halfway across the country several months ago to visit the in-laws, the mobile was stowed away in our luggage. God help the airline baggage staff if they had lost our luggage.

As for the remote control, well, I love the remote control. I lost count of the number of times I rummaged through our linen closet in a sleep induced haze to press the big blue button on the remote control to get the mobile going again when the music stopped. Very handy in starting the damn thing without your child laying eyes on you.

We have used this mobile for four months more than we should have. It states on the music box that you can only use it up until a child is five months old. Luckily for us, darling daughter doesn't like to sit up so we never saw a need to get rid of it, until now. But tonight dear husband caught her using the music box as leverage to get her into the standing position. So now we have to put it away, for now. We will store it away for the next baby. So dear friend, thank you for lulling my darling daughter to bed for nearly a year. I shouldn't scoffed at you when you first arrived. I do apologize. Thank you for your loyal and dedicated service. You will be missed.