Back-talking.

Well, to all those that read my last post, I'm making my little sis, the fabulous Muff, from Desisto Digitals, take Sydney's 3 month pictures. She and I actually have an appointment set up for this coming Saturday, and Muff's got some exceptional ideas, as usual. Yes, Syd's dancing shoes WILL make an appearance, so just wait--I'll post those proofs of adorability, soon. Also, I'm going to respond to my commenters now, as it's Monday tomorrow and I thought I'd alleviate some of your impending boredom by typing up a few things. You're Welcome.

To the person that commented about the shoes--the baby-heel pioneer, if you will. (The Thomas'), I would love to read your blog, but everytime I type the name of it in, Blogger gives me some weird re-routing-type thing. Or says that there's a possibility that you aren't a real person. I believe that you are, just realize that I'm not being a terrible snob and avoiding your blog after your kind invitation. I'll keep trying, for sure. I'm always game for a gazing at cutie-pie babies all dressed up. And I hope that doesn't sound scary...cause I re-read it a couple times, and I realize it could be taken that way.

Shauna--I never used to lock my door before marrying Jeff. Being from WY and all, there was never really a reason to. I also used to NEVER shut my bedroom shade for any reason whatsoever, and now I realize just how, er, unthoughtful that was. Luckily I only had like, two neighbors within a five mile radius. So hopefully I never ruined anyone's dinner or anything. I don't know, I'd like to say that all my paranoia comes from Jeff, but I'm going to say the real reason and knowingly sound really old: It's a different world now than it was then. And now I'm a parent.

Amy, they are kind of Simpsonesque, huh? Another addition to my thinking they're fabulous. Syd kind of reminds me of a cartoon sometimes, too, so it fits. ;)

Erinn, I could totally see the news program's complaint being legit if these little shoes were actual heels. Cause, that would be dangerous. However, as you said, they're soft little shoes that Jeff pointed out, are similar to Miss Piggy's. Muppet shoes, if you will. And I have always admired Miss Piggy's fashion sense. Perhaps that says something about MY fashion sense, but I'm being honest, even so. (I mean, did you see my Labyrinth post? I'm all about The Muppets).

Kelli, Kass, Kory, Kyle: (I feel pretty clever for putting all the "K" people into a group, btw). I love the blue boots, I love baby shoes (Obviously) and with her short hair in barretts, Syd WOULD be a fantastic flapper, and I love cartoons, as well. Love, love, love. I wouldn't be adverse to seeing babies in wigs. And I kind of wish I could find some baby-fishnet stockings. I know that seems creepy, but I think that paired with the little shoes, would also be heelarious. :)

Moriah. Thanks for the gift. I am all about having my kiddos wear stuff that I could never wear. And I'm totally unrepentant. Also, Riley doesn't hate me for it, surprisingly enough. In fact, she asks about what I used to dress her in, and the more ridiculous it is, the more happy it makes her. (The same goes for pet names and such). She takes it as a sign of my love--the more humiliating, the more of an adoring mother I am. I realize that that's not the normal reaction, but I lucked out with Riley, and I'm hoping that with her support, I'll luck out with Syd, too.

Sharon, what the Heel? You are still the queen of really bad puns. And maybe I'm a little jealous. ;)

Anyway, you all know I love the comments. So I just thought I'd respond, as last time I did, I totally wrote an entire novel in the comments section, and I had to sit there for a loooong time to finish it, or I would have lost all that I had typed. And in the process, I neglected two of my children and ignored my husband. Do you see the devotion I have, here? Someone should give me an award. Just overlook the bad parts and you'll see I'm right.

Feeding my Fetish.

A little background information to get this party started: I was in the shower today and I heard someone pounding on our door downstairs--it was that loud. I'd taken Riley to school already, and I heard Cole run up the stairs and throw the door open to my bathroom yelling: "MOM! SOMEONE'S AT THE DOOR!" Of course it couldn't have happened five minutes earlier or five minutes later, it had to be right when I was shampooing my hair and just couldn't even think of going to see who it was. Cole told me that he was going to go ask who it was, and I told him not to, only to hear him running down the stairs again. And then back up. The door to the bathroom again slammed into the wall behind it as Cole yelled, "It's the Post Office!" I thought that was weird. I said,"you didn't open the door, did you?" And he told me he didn't. I started to tell him not to open the door and I'd take care of it when I was finished, and in the middle of my sentence, I heard him clomping down the stairs again, and....silence. Okay, I'm kind of a paranoid person. I tried finishing up as fast as I could and at the same time listened to hear any tell-tale sounds of the front door being opened or closed. And because it remained quiet, I worried that it was too quiet, and had to forgo shaving the armpits, in fear of Cole letting some scary psychotic people that would steal all of our pathetic earthly possessions, or a million times worse, take my babies. My imagination sometimes get the best, or worst, of me. Anyway, I wrapped up in two towels and went to go check on Cole, as Syd was asleep in her crib in our room. Safe and sound mind you. Looking into our living room, Cole was doing his usual: watching SpongeBob with a mouthful of Legos--something I've told him time and time again NOT to do. So I first told him not so nicely to get the toys out of his mouth, and then asked him if the "Post Office" person said anything else. Cole said no, and went back to watching his cartoon. (After he made a big show of me being a moron, because I was freaking about the Legos--again). Anyway, I went to the door and looked through the peephole and saw a box on the step. So, because I'm inconspicuous and such, I opened the door, grabbed the unassuming box, and managed to do so without flashing my trashy neighbor...who was NOT watching her dogs in MY yard while taking one of her smoke-breaks. Soooo much resentment towards that woman. Anyway, I hadn't ordered anything online in a while...so I was clueless as to what it could be.
This is what it held:
I mean, can you believe those? I should have taken a picture while they were all packaged up, because they came in this little swanky plastic carrying case that looked like some sort of boutique packaging, but I was too excited to touch and hold them. I about died, HOW CUTE ARE THEY? My dear friend, Moriah, sent these for Sydney. Every time I've had a baby, she's sent me something that was so adorable and different, and this time I swear she outdid herself.
I couldn't wait to show Riley. She and I share a fetish for shoes--especially for babies. (Especially if it's something that we wouldn't wear on our own feet...what is a baby good for if not to dress them up in outlandish stuff that when it's small is fabulous, however, when it's er....ginormous, it's hideous?) When Riley got home, I told her to go look on my bed at what came in the mail today and I heard a loud, shrill squeal, followed by: "OHHHHH! THOSE ARE SOOO CUTE!" She asked where I got them and I told her from Moriah. Riley goes, "that must be why YOU never buy cute shoes for Syd. Because everyone else just gives them to you." (This has kind of been a source of contention between Riley and I when we go shopping. She seems to think I should buy Sydney all the shoes we both love regardless of the fact that most will only fit her for two months..If that). I thought about what she said though, and actually, she's right. Syd has been the recipient of numerous pairs of shoes; all soo cute, and the ones I'm going to show are the ones that fit her now. So for those of you that have given me shoes and they aren't shown, it's just because they don't fit Syd yet, not because I don't like them and such. I want that made clear. Also, for those of you that are thinking, "What the crap? This entire post is about baby shoes?" Well, yeah. Deal.

These were given to me from my sisters-in-law Wendy and Kim. They dropped them off one day while I was still on bedrest, and Riley just opened the door, took the loot, and I'm sure nicely slammed the door in their faces...one of the couple of embarrassing moments that occurred during the time I was made to stay in my room. But I was really excited to have Syd eventually wear them, because I knew she'd totally rock them. See how right I was? Another pair she's been wearing are some Kelli made for her:
These are obviously for days Syd is feeling a bit more rugged, yet also fashionable. Riley and I have more fun than we should dressing her up, and between the two of us, Syd's going to hate that even more than her big sister. Maybe now Riley will feel my pain when she rejects my efforts in cutely clothing her, still. That would be what we call sweet revenge, my friends. So, here's my last shoe picture, for those of you that may be griping and can't understand the finer things in life--awesome shoes, duh. (And I know for a fact that my husband, man that he is, DOES appreciate shoes more than the average guy, and I love him a little more just for that. I got him some new shoes this week, and he's been wearing them with pride--because they are just that wonderful. So if you wanna be cool like Jeff, I suggest you focus on this post and LOVE every bit of it. I would have posted a picture of him wearing his new shoes, but he would have been overshadowed by these last pictures of Syd, and we just can't have that).
Could. You. Just. Die? My only regret is that I don't have an evening gown for her to complete the ensemble. A big shout out to Moriah, for making this possible. :) And, I've just got so many stories this week, but I'll post later, as while I'm trying to entertain you all with my little gem of a daughter, I'm neglecting said daughter at this very moment, and she's not enjoying Cole's loud company nearly as much as you would think. So, adios amigos! Happy Thursday.

The Babe With the Power.

I bought some new jammies for Syd. The reason? Cause I saw them and they touched my inner nerd. Remember the baby "Toby", from the movie, Labyrinth? With David Bowie in stretch pants? If not, I suggest you just run yourself right on down to the nearest DVD rental place and check it out. Better yet, BUY it. Jennifer Connelly is even in it. Before she had that anorexic/preying mantis look. She's still hot, btw, but she was just so much...more then, than she is now. And again, there was something about David Bowie that made my eleven year old self sit up and take notice...perhaps his chicken legs in addition to the huge white-blond spiky mullet atop his head. I can't be sure. All I can say is that I wanted him to sing to me for a long time afterward; the masquerade ball being a scene that evoked so many new and alien feelings. Alien, but in a good way. Ahhh.
Anyway I was trying to put Sydney to bed the night she wore the pjs shown, and as is most nights before bed, she was fussy. Inspired by her sleepy time ensemble, I threatened to "say the words". Jeff gave me a courtesy laugh and Riley thought that it was a terrible thing to tell my baby. (If you don't know what I'm talking about, you can remedy that by following my previous instructions and watch the movie....and then realize what a terrible mother I am). Anyway, there's something about stripey pajamas on a child that I find adorable. Especially if that adorable child is my own.
Another unrelated but humorous moment today occurred when I found a project Cole did in school. Occasionally he'll empty his backpack in random places, and I found this under our recliner:
I thought his mad face was quite accurate. In addition to that, I am always surprised at how much Jeff shines through in their artwork. It makes me happy to see how talented they are...that they didn't inherit my abilities; which are none. On the other side of the picture was this:Notice how he spelled crazy. It reminds me of how Nacho says it in Nacho Libre: "Craaaaasee". Also, I was under the impression that when he is crazy, he looks remarkably like a woman. However, Jeff corrected me by saying that the pink stuff wasn't oversized lips, but a tongue. I guess he and Cole talked about it today. The relationship the kids have with Jeff through their art is pretty priceless and I'm kind of jealous, as it's something that I'll never be able to touch. But mostly, I'm glad they do...as it brings them closer and encourages their creativity. Jeff is so open to that, and because he is, Riley and Cole constantly impress us. I consider myself a very lucky person. I have a husband that is wonderful to me and our little ones--the kind of husband that every girl dreams about. And my kids keep me in stories and laughs all day, everyday.
So on a more serious note, Riley is continually getting bigger and more mature. It kind of makes me sad. On the upside, she's also getting smarter and amazes me with her compassion and thoughtfulness. I've been trying to remember back to when I was pregnant with her, nine years ago. I was so anxious for her to get here--to get out of me. And then when she did make her grand appearance, my life completely changed. She was tiny and quiet and had a big red spot between her eyes--her storkbite, was what the nurses called it. And I wasn't sure what I was in for, but I loved her. I suddenly loved her so much I ached with it, and I remember being in the hospital holding her and wondering what that red spot was, and why it was there. No one told me that it would start to lighten and eventually be gone by the time she was two. So I kept telling myself that I'd protect her from anyone that may say something about it, because it was different, and maybe they'd be mean. I'm a little embarrassed now that I thought so much about her storkbite, and that it worried me. But at the time, I needed to let her know that she would be fully protected by me. And that I was so happy she had come into my life that I'd do anything I could to make her feel how much I loved and needed her.
Nine years later, I feel the same. I still am painfully aware of how perfect she is and how lucky I am that she's here. Unfortunately, I don't tell her that nearly enough. She shares that place with her sister and her brother, now...and I remember that as the oldest, sometimes it doesn't feel that way. It's more like the smaller siblings get the most attention because they're louder and less self-sufficient and whereas Riley's quiet anyway, I'm sure she really feels that she gets the short end of the stick. But for the record, she's still my baby; and she'll always be my first.
That's some of the stuff that has occurred/has been going through my mind lately. So in conclusion, I'm hoping that all of you have something or someone that makes you happy. Because life sure is a great thing when you do.

Because he makes me laugh.

So lately Cole has been more humorous than usual, and I wonder if he's just going to be that kid that I always wanted to be: witty and naturally funny. Jeff told me the other day that as he was taking Cole to school, he was having problems buckling his seat belt. Cole and I always have rounds with this issue, because sometimes instead of actually clasping his seat belt together, he'll just clank the pieces to make the sound, and leave it at that. It's apparently too much work to actually complete the entire task. Anyway, Jeff asked him if he had it put on the right way, as that's information he won't volunteer, and Cole said "no." Jeff told him to put it on, and Cole gave a couple of tries, whined, and said, "I can't". Jeff then told him to hurry up and put it on or he'll be late for school--which he hates. So Cole gave it a serious try and then got frustrated and yelled, "WHY DOES MY SEAT BELT HATE ME?" After that, Jeff just helped him. I guess some things are more vexing than you'd think.
Last week he lost a tooth and I was surprised at the difference between Riley and Cole as far as the pain tolerance of getting the actual tooth out goes. (Moriah, I'm with you on the girls totally trumping guys when it comes to facing pain/sickness/stress--you name it). He'd known that it was ready to be out for a while now, but he wouldn't let Jeff or me wiggle it. Riley was always overly eager to endure a little pain for a visit from the Tooth Fairy and the dollar that she brings. However, Cole wasn't sure that a dollar was worth the impending pain that Riley had filled him in on. So he just went through each day ignoring that tooth, and telling me that it wasn't ready to come out yet. Finally Riley convinced him that it wasn't that bad...and that he could do it, and blah, blah, blah. As usual, Cole decided that Riley was the one with the utmost experience, and that despite that I'd been saying the same thing for the last two weeks, that if he'd just let Jeff or I push on it a couple of times, he'd be a dollar richer. (For those of you that know Cole, he will usually do painfully embarrassing things for a single quarter--another thing he gets from me--and so the fact that he couldn't bring himself to do this for a dollar, well, I knew he was pretty scared). Anyway, I'm from the "old school" of removing teeth. When I was a kid, I seriously did do it all...My dad used the pliers, the doorknob, and the crunch inducing push methods to rid me of those little pearly baby chompers. However, because my teeth were so jacked anyway, and I had had more than my share of tooth removal using the "happy gas" at the dentist, I was pretty okay with it. I've always been more afraid of unhealthy teeth, than the pain you go through in order to keep them healthy. So Riley took the reigns on this one, as when it comes to her siblings, she usually does. It has to say something about having her as a big sister, I think. Cole trusts her implicitly. And with that trust, he listened to her advice, let Jeff push on his tooth a couple of times, and out it came. He was thrilled. When he found his dollar the next morning, he didn't even say anything about it. I waited a half hour and then asked him if the Tooth Fairy had come. He said, "Yeah, I got a dollar. That's what I get, right?" Like it was just commonplace, and he needed to make sure he wasn't ripped of some of his hard earned cash. Then he told me that he put his dollar in my purse, and not to spend it, because he was going to use it with his allowance money to get more Legos. I just needed to make sure it didn't get lost. As you can see, I have a lot of purpose in this house.
My final story about Cole occurred a few days ago. I was in the bathroom, trying to get my business done, and because I was wanting private time, Cole chose to converse with me via the gap between the closed door and the carpet. Finally I told him that I needed some time to myself and if he'd go downstairs, I would talk to him when I was finished. I heard him go and bounce on my bed and talk to Syd in her crib for a while and then all was quiet for a blissful maybe five minutes. Suddenly, there he was again, at the bottom of the door asking me if I was going to come out soon. I rolled my eyes and said, "in a minute" and gave a little thought to the fact that I didn't even hear him come up the stairs--an anomaly, for sure. He's a loud kid. But I heard him go down them and figured he was watching his movie to pass the time. Before I went into the bathroom, as I often do, I looked at my shelf of toys..because I can. I console myself with thinking that it's my version of the useless crap-knick-knacks that you see in other people's homes and it makes me happy. This is what I saw before entering the bathroom:
If you'll notice in the right hand corner, and for those of you that don't read Kelli's blog, she knitted a little "corporate zombie" that Jeff was the proud recipient of. It's by no means alarming, just a little weird and cute. Anyway, if you can remember how Cole feels about ANY kind of zombie, I shouldn't have been surprised when I finished up in the bathroom, came out, picked up Syd, and noticed this:I had to do a little rearranging because he had hidden the offensive (to him), zombie so far behind Doc Ock that the top of his head juuust barely showed. Putting two and two together, while I was in the bathroom thinking that finally I had some privacy and Cole was downstairs letting his sister sleep, he was actually trying to hide Jeff's little zombie...because as you can tell, it's terrifying. :) Cole didn't say anything about it afterwards. And each day I look to see if he's been changed around. It's happened once since, but I guess he's trying to keep it as low key as possible. Maybe the little zombie is just scary when mom and dad aren't in the room? Perhaps he's protecting Sydney? I don't know for sure. Either way, this kid makes me laugh.
I'm hoping that all you guys have a good week. I can't believe how quickly this year is going already. I'll leave you with pictures of my beautiful girls, because this is my blog and I can. And because we've been housebound so often lately, you may have forgotten what they look like.

Yay. And Boo.

It's been said that there must be opposition in all things. Well, this past week I've had more than my share.

Yay: Flight of the Conchords's new season is fabulous--complete with new songs, new "Mel" drama, and they are pushing the proverbial envelope.

Boo: Jermaine refers to his family jewels as "Sugar Lumps". Though their choreography and lyrical works are of genius caliber, I have used the name Sugar Lumps as a pet name for all three of my babies. It was mine first, and despite Jeff mocking me because of this, in the infamous words of Tom Petty: I WON'T back down. (And Jeff made a valid point in saying that each infant was a direct result of his personal sugar lumps, so....case and point...kind of).

Yay: I got the call that my DARLING new glasses were ready for pick up on Valentine's Day and I look totally fabulous when I wear them.

Boo: I dressed accordingly to accentuate said new glasses on Valentine's day, and we stopped to pick them up on our way out. We arrived there at 5:06, only to find that they closed at 5:00. Not only was I bummed, but I got a severe headache Valentine's Eve because I wore my old glasses with the old prescription. Balls. My new glasses would have looked SO much better.
Yay: I went to the Library today to pay a ticket for not wearing my seat belt here in Springville, and I found out that had I paid any later, I would have had to go to court.

Boo: I WAS WEARING MY FREAKING SEAT BELT! When I was pulled over, I had to unbuckle my seat belt to dig into my glove compartment to find all my insurance and registration information. When the officer arrived to my window, he said that I wasn't wearing my seat belt. And wrote me a ticket.

Yay: The aforementioned officer just gave me a warning instead of writing me up for speeding.

Boo: He still wrote me a ticket about not wearing my seat belt even though I was. (So completely rotten, it needed to be mentioned twice). It's apparently time for Springville to make city quotas.

Yay: Riley and Cole told me I'm the Best Mom Ever.

Boo: Then both turned right around and said that they missed their dad, because he's always more fun.

Yay: I found the cutest jeans on sale...perfect color, perfect length, perfect price.

Boo: I neglected to do the "butt test" in the fitting room, as my brain function is still at sub-par levels. It was a horrifying surprise when I tried them on at home, and there was nothing I could do but take them back.


Yay: Jeff is now a member of the band Elemental, as their "Man At Arts". Not only does this mean that he designs the posters for them and the bigger bands that they are opening for, (like Ours, Airborn Toxic Event, and then in May, VAST), but he also gets to enjoy the perks of Elemental...like meeting the mentioned bigger bands and having backstage access. My husband is pretty much a bona-fide rockstar and making my dream come true of being some sort of groupie. (Also, I have to add that these posters are complete works of art, and word is getting out on my husband's gift--thus raising Jeff's cool factor by a bazillion points).

Boo: I don't get to go with him this time. Instead, he's taking Kory as his date. So I have to live the rockstar lifestyle extra vicariously.

**However, I will NOT miss out on VAST, fyi. I'm giving myself some more time to get ready to strut my stuff...I want to be able to represent as I'm hobnobbing with my musical icons. **

Anyway, that's all for now. Just wanted to let you in on my fabulous life...and the parts that are less than fabulous. Hope you all are experiencing less "Boos" than I seem to be lately.

V-Day.

Hello to all. Before my post, I just thought I would let you know that things are thumbs up at the Jeff and Rainey Anderson household. Last Friday I took Syd to her two month check up, and she'd gained two ounces, and her chest sounded clear. So I'm taking that as Sydney being on her way to full recovery. She's breathing, sleeping, eating and pooping SO much easier. And this makes all of us happy and thankful for answered prayers. I wanted to thank all of you for your concern and offers of help. We truly lucked out with the friends and family that we have. She's back to melting our hearts and making us laugh.I had to post this picture because it doesn't matter whether she's gained weight or not, whenever a baby goes into the Doctor's office or hospital, you see how truly tiny they are. And if you're a constant worrier like I am, you also really appreciate what a miracle having a healthy and happy baby is. Anyway, that's the end of my emotional dialog. Thanks again to everyone for all their love and support. Shauna, thanks for the offer of the lobelia--or however it's spelled. I have been using Baby Vicks on her neck and chest, and that seems to work great. I will definitely keep that in mind, though, should the Vicks stop doing its job. Also, Kory--I'm totally holding you to that Nickleback party. And to Moriah, I'm sad to say that they indeed ARE still a band...and I just can't get away from them here. For some reason, Utah radio stations hold big love towards them, and lately my ipod has been permanently glued into my car...
Anyhoo, life for me has been busy, busy, busy. I have almost completely memorized the Chowder DVD that the kids got for Christmas. You may be asking who Chowder is...and for those of you that don't know, you must watch it. Check it out on the Cartoon Network. You can see a few episodes online, and I'm pretty confident you'll be as hooked as I am--it's about a fat kitten named Chowder and he loooooves to eat. Need I say more? You'll thank me later.
When I'm not actually watching Chowder, which is unusual, because that DVD gets some serious play, I'm still doing "mom stuff". In fact, sickness aside, this time around having a baby has been so fun. It was also fun with Riley and Cole, yeah, but there was this sense of urgency. I was always waiting for them to get that much bigger--where they could hold their own bottle, or sit up, or talk. Now I'm just able to hold Syd whenever I want. I can watch her sleep and snuggle with her during her frequent and short naps. I do what I can inbetween feedings but now I'm okay with my house being a disaster, and I'm fine with not showering until like, two in the afternoon. (Note disaster in the background). To the common reader this may sound like I've given up, and that I've let everything go. However, I think that this is the way it always was-- only this time I refuse to feel guilty about it. Ahhh...so much nicer. It really helps to have a husband that supports me about this, too. With the other two babies I put a lot of pressure on myself, because supposedly every other mom that I saw had it all together, so I pushed myself to fit into that category. It was all me. Jeff is just fine with me really not doing anything during the day except run and take care of the kids. I'm a lucky woman. And given my ability to tolerate stress, this is a huge relief.
So a happy Valentine's Day to everyone! This had to be my most hated holiday growing up. And it's not like I celebrate it much now, either. It's for sure I'm not a jewelery or flower girl. I'm just not into that stuff. But, being with Jeff has certainly made me change my mind a bit; gone is the extreme bitterness. I'm still blissfully in love. I'm more jiggly and less self involved, but my husband still makes my heart swell and I feel my best when I'm around him. Weird that. And terrific beyond words, too.
For the kids, it's a different matter. Both are quite excited, as they are getting their Valentines ready to pass out on Friday. Last Saturday Jeff helped both Riley and Cole with their boxes. This is something I never did as a kid. I mean, we had our little boxes for Valentines, but they were usually made at school and I went all out with mine--I'd draw some hearts on it, or maybe pull out the big guns and GLUE some hearts on. I was big time, obviously. However, when Riley started school, I realized I wasn't as big time as I originally thought. I helped in her class a couple of times and saw that the other more productive parents had supplied their children with Valentine boxes of a much higher caliber than Riley's Tupperware bowl with multi-colored hearts. I'm talking like, huge paper-mache creations complete with multiple openings for all their children's friends to fill with letters and love. I quickly handed that job over to Jeff, as he's the "creative master" in this household. This year, the kids told him what they wanted, and though they aren't paper-mache, I think they fit Riley and Cole's personalities quite well. (Just in case you can't see, the mouths of both creatures is where the Valentines will be deposited. I was overly impressed with my kid's and Jeff's genius).
Both kids are way excited. I'm excited for them. I remember always loving going through my valentines after school, and pretending the boy that I had a crush on only gave me the valentine with the very special message of love...I can pretty much read anything into anything. Just give me proper motivation. Riley and I for sure will be doing a LOT of speculating on the hidden messages of her valentines Friday afternoon. Cole, too...but he'll probably just blow me off for the massive amounts of candy he's banking on receiving. Boys, sometimes, are no fun. I hope all of you have a great weekend with your significant others, regardless of whether or not you're haters of St. Valentine. I think it's important in this busy life to have these little holidays to set some time aside and just enjoy each other and I appreciate the fact that every now and then my calendar tells me it's time to do just that. Peace out, Yo.

Lately.

Disclosure: I'm just letting you know this is a LOOONG post about stuff that isn't as interesting as most of us would like it to be...especially if we blog stalk out of boredom...which I may or may not do. However, I'm thinking that since this blog is also a journal of sorts for me, everything needs to be typed out. If you find yourself falling asleep, go to the bathroom, get a drink of water, and maybe just watch some TV for a while. This post will be here waiting when you get back, and perhaps you can save the rest of it for when you have absolutely nothing better to do.

So I've been home bound. Cole was sick, Riley got sick, Jeff got sick and I was keeping up pretty well. Then Syd got sick, and all the rules changed. I'd read a little about RSV in infants, so when she started to show similar symptoms, I worried. (Remember, I'm a hypochondriac for myself, and for members of my family, so I didn't take her to the doctor right away). Saturday night is when things started getting really bad. She'd been sniffling and coughing a little since Friday, but things took a turn for the worse. Luckily Sunday I got to stay home with the kids and not have anywhere I needed to be. Sydney basically stopped eating. She was completely disinterested in her bottles and being that I make them special, just for her, I took a little offense. If there is one thing about my babies--and I can't say this about my kids anymore--it's that they looooove their bottles. Especially when filled with breast milk. This, and the immunities, are the only reasons I still insist on them having it. If Sydney were as willing to forgo food as Jeff and the kids, I wouldn't bother. It would so be worth the extra 20-25 bucks a week to just do formula, and actually get to sleep longer than 4 to 5 hour intervals....ah, just the thought...
(I find it's even easier for me to stray off topic when I'm sleep deprived). Anyway, back to Sunday and Sydney. I had tried to keep Riley and Cole away from her, but that was just impossible. I rationalized that I had to keep from kissing her while I had a cold sore, so they could do the same. However, it's just not possible. Our house isn't large by any means, and she's just so darn cute, that they couldn't stay away from her. Plus she'd probably been exposed to whatever they've been bringing home from school the previous week, so it was inevitable. Sunday night she'd been coughing so much that I really worried about her and she had so much mucus that her breathing became really fast and shallow. Add that to her not eating for a day and no wet diapers, and I was about to lose it. I was rocking her in the rocking chair and she began having a coughing fit again, and I took her down from my shoulder. She finished said coughing fit...and didn't breathe. I counted to four seconds, and began to panic, and gave her a fairly hard smack on her back after I saw her eyes begin to bulge. This got her crying again, and dislodged a big wad of goo from the back of her throat. I started crying...because that's what I do when anything is overly stressful. No, it doesn't help. At all.
My niece came over Monday morning because she got the day off of school to "go to work" with someone. Kind of like a career day, I guess. She chose me, because I'm a stay at home mom. Anyway, that's what I was told...I'm thinking the real reason was that she didn't want to go be in an actual work environment, when she could just come over here and play with the baby. Not that I minded in the least, because I enjoy her company and as a kid, I would have thought of that too--it's brilliant. Unfortunately for her, our day would consist of endless errands for a sick baby. My doctor squeezed Sydney in at about elevenish that morning. After checking her out, he said that she was definitely having some issues breathing and a contributor to that was her endless supply of mucus. At the hospital right now, because there are SO many babies with RSV, they have a little center with a machine that will suck all the baby's phlegm out of their nose and throat. He had to write me a prescription for them to do that, and sent us on our way, saying that he'd also order a lab to be done of the mucus, to find out what she had.
So, after three buildings and four wrong directions by people that supposedly work in the health centers and such...(seriously, has anyone considered the importance of a simple map at each information desk?), we finally wound up in the correct wing of the hospital on the correct floor. My niece and I didn't have to wait too long for Syd's "suction". However, while we waited, we could hear the process being done to another infant...and the progressive screaming as well. I mean this kid was terrified and angry, and it made my "mother's hackles" rise in a way that made me want to tell my niece to grab my purse and run for it, with me and Syd right behind her. I watched Sydney looking around, listening to the other baby as well, and she got that hurt look on her face and just started to sob her sad cry. I took it as a terrible omen.
Anyway, when our turn came they took us into a little room, and had me lay her on the bed. The nurse then unwrapped something from a plastic bag that just looked wrong...complete with two looong straws that were going to be placed in Syd's nose and down her throat. After a couple breathing tests and such, they had me hold my baby down, and stuck the straw in one nostril and sucked all the yuck out, and then did this to the other nostril. I had to put a lot of weight on Syd cause weak as she was, she still was uber pissed that we were doing that to her, and was fighting for all she was worth. I cried--yet again--because I hate for any of my babies to be in pain or scared. Does it help? Again, no. But it does make me look even more unstable than I am, and it's how I deal. So, that's how it goes.
They removed two whole ounces of goo from Syd. She was coughing less, and she calmed down really quickly when they took the straws out. They had to actually save it, and send it to the lab to see what she had, and then told me the Doctor would call me later. I have to say that I'm really grateful that my niece was there with me, and such an excellent help...(THANKS JAMIE!). She kind of held it all together with her quiet way, and her ability to tell me what I needed to hear.
Sydney was pretty good for the rest of the day, she began to eat more and started having wet diapers--something that for a parent, is one of those things that you rejoice over. Nothing is really as exciting as knowing that all systems are go, with an infant.
Tuesday night I got the call from my doctor that Syd tested positive for RSV. If I was worried before knowing that she MIGHT have it, I was a wreck knowing that she did. All of a sudden I could swear her mouth was getting a more bluish tinge and that her chest was retracting, and that she'd stop breathing as soon as I closed my eyes at night. Needless to say, I nor Jeff slept much at all. Wednesday she woke up at 5 am and coughed--literally for 30 minutes. It was the body-wracking, vomit inducing cough that you know from personal experience hurts, and then seeing a baby do it, makes you just know it's 100 times more painful. And then after that, she was fine...she laughed and talked and smiled and was eating like she was making up for the last three weeks. I was convinced she was on the up and up. Until about 9 pm, and the coughing started again. I called the doctor, and he said that I should probably go in to have her "vacuumed" again. With much dread, I did.
This time my fabulous sister and her fabulous husband came with me. My own husband stayed home with our other sick kiddos....as dragging them to the hospital at 10:00 at night, when they had school the next day, seemed almost as daunting as going alone. But I didn't have to, because of the previously mentioned wonderful sister and brother-in-law. Apparently we went at the right time. They'd had babies in there all day, getting the same thing done. When it was our turn, Chris opted to stay with our stuff, and Muffy came in with me. I was dreading it even more this time, as I knew what to expect and the little boy that went in before us had screamed the entire time he was in there. When I took Syd in, she was happy. She was breathing pretty poorly, but she was happy. In fact, the nurse said, (and this is a bunch of shameless bragging), that she was so cute she didn't want to do it. Syd gave her a really big smile, as I'm sure she recognized the word, "cute", and the nurse groaned and said, "You're just going to make this extra hard on me, aren't you?" After that, I braced myself and Sydney, and the horror began...only it wasn't bad. Sydney seemed to know what to expect, and she closed her eyes and looked uncomfortable, but didn't scream. She took it like a champ, and the nurse said she'd not seen that in the three years that she'd been doing the procedure. She also said that Sydney had the prettiest eyes and smile she'd seen and that I had a beautiful baby. I didn't want to mention that, but...;)
And that's where we are for now. Sorry about the lapse yet again in posts, but I've honestly been really busy. I'm grateful that I AM a stay at home mom. Because I know how hard it is to not be. With Riley I had to work--up until I had Cole. And it was hard. I also know that people do what they have to do to make ends meet, and those of you that have to work, I respect what you're doing. It's a huge juggle and stress a lot of the time. I've been relishing the chance I have to hold Sydney and just let her snuggle to me, and feel that she's loved. Because I can, and I feel that I should. In a way, it's helped and comforted me just as much as it has her. She's still got her coughing jags, and she's so exhausted that she can't really concentrate on sleeping. But she's happy. And that's all I can ask.
Thanks for all the well-wishes and such. Hopefully she'll be ready to get out and about soon. Love to all.

Oh, and on a totally unrelated note, I was currently contemplating how much I hate the band Nickleback. Which is a lot. That is all.