Category Archives: Baby Traps


I was more than ready to go back to work after my 12week leave when I had XBoy. I don’t think it had anything to do with how secure I felt as a parent since logically the 2nd child – especially six years later – should be a cake walk. But this time around, I am scared witless to leave ZGirl in the care of strangers. I cannot give the care giver a schedule because she has none. I cannot give them an idea of how much she eats at any one time as I am clueless. I’m even supposed to have each bottle prepared for the day. When I remembered this yesterday, I nearly hyperventilated.

Of course, yesterday would have been a good day to freak out since it was the first time I left ZGirl for a whole day. While it was with someone I trust inexplicably, my mother, I then started to imagine her walking around with ZGirl and having a massive heart attack and no one finding either of them for hours…anti-anxiety meds, anyone? I don’t think it even helped to hear that everything was fine via several phone calls to both the house and my husband. She was perfect. No problems. No complaints. What the hell? Who gave my baby Nyquil?

Apparently forcing my daughter to take a bottle doesn’t work. Who knew? Instead my mom said she just let her play with the bottle’s nipple and then she drank. I wish my Mom lived with us. Strike me now since that has also been a real fear of mine.

I remember not being successful when it came to breastfeeding XBoy. Eventually I got over it and thought, meh, what’s the big deal anyway? Now I’m dealing with a baby who won’t take a bottle. I had a “mini” breakdown (OK, MAXI breakdown) the other night about it after an hour of solid screaming and crying to the point of ZGirl gasping and hiccuping herself into an exhausted and fitful sleep because we were trying to feed her with a bottle, I asked my husband how could something I thought would be the most beneficial for her – breastfeeding – now end up being the bane of my last couple of weeks home with her? Maybe formula isn’t “the” best, if one was to judge what is best  by all the literature that comes with the breastmilk storage bags, but at least she wouldn’t be crying hysterically with each feeding attempt.

Ugh. Does the self-flagellation ever end?

So the reason I left her for the whole day was to go to the Metro for some shopping. I still needed a few things for ZGirl’s transition to her room and my mom thought it’d be good for me to get out of the house. In the past, I’ve just gone to Toysrus since they have a small baby section. I didn’t know until a store rep told me that the Metro now had a Babiesrus. I thought, “cool”, and headed off to the new store.

Thank the almighty lord on high I had never tried that any time during the past four years while going through treatments. It was overwhelming to say the least. The combination of very pregnant women and endless dispays of decorated cribs and 15 foot high shelving just for nipples? Ack! I couldn’t get out of there soon enough (making me forget hangers, dammit).

Anyone willing to become a nanny for ZGirl? I keep Baileys Irish Cream and some kind of fancy scotch and ice cream on hand. Of course, that would double as payment as well as off hours recreational enjoyment. (Speaking of which, yes I do have a couple of packages to send out – I haven’t forgot.)

I have more serious things to share with you about XBoy, but that will have to wait until after his doctor’s appointment Wednesday. That post will be protected so just a head up to any newbies. I am both hopeful about the possible results since we may finally be able to know what’s going on and dreading what lies ahead.

Thanks again for joining me for yet another schizophrenic post. Yikes.


I seem to be racking up drafts in my blog file. When I open them, they all have one or two sentences of random crap. It’s all because booby duty calls.

Getting ZGirl converted to bottle feeding has been aggravating to say the least. I read suggestions aloud on all kinds of boards and sites on making the transition to my husband who promptly ignores me and tries to sit down on the couch and watch football/baseball with one eye on ZGirl. I have had much better luck feeding her myself by going into the bathroom, turning on the fan and running water into the sink and bouncing her in my arms like mad.

White noise is our friend.

While it works in the long haul, my carpal tunnel which is now just finally subsiding, flares painfully. Almost nine weeks post-pregnancy and there is still a constant tingle in my fingers, can you believe it? Two to three weeks, they said. Bah.

Here’s a tip from our house to yours: if you are trying to put down the baby to sleep after a late night feeding and as soon as his/her head hits the mattress they wake up? Try putting a heating pad down to warm up their spot, but make sure to both shut it off and take it out just before putting down the baby. You don’t want to wake up to a crispy critter now do you?

Didn’t want the visual? Well, I don’t want you to do something stupid and forget either.

While ZGirl’s sleep habits are “improving”, I qualify that statement with the quotations. When she finally hits the deep sleep (any time between 9:30 and 12:30), she’ll sleep four to six hours. Then she wakes up for about an hour to eat and give me googly eyes. After that, we’re lucky if she sleeps for another two. It’s frustrating. She’s consistently inconsistent.

I mentioned how I love having home-made wipes on twitter and was asked how to make them, so I’ll share that with you as well.


  • 10 cup container with lid
  • Select a size Bounty paper towels (yes, use these specifically or experiment and rue your choice)
  • Baby oil
  • Aveeno gentle wash (or a baby wash)

Cut your roll of paper towels in half. Make sure your container is tall and wide enough to hold one of the half rolls. Mix 1 cup water, 1 tspn oil and 1 tspn wash together and put into container. Add your paper towels, still with the cardboard center. Mix another 1 cup water, 1 tspn oil and 1 tspn wash and pour over the paper towels. Put on the lid and set overnight so that the towels are soaked evenly. You can then remove the cardboard center, which will help start your roll as you will take the wipes from the center.

While it’s not as “convenient” as the commercial wipes, with how they are individual and pop up sequentially, once you plan ahead (is the diaper full of poop before you take it off so you can pull off four or five pieces – which is why you use the select a size type of wipes), it’s great. No matter how “gentle” commercial wipes say they are, once your baby gets a diaper rash, the chemicals in those wipes will burn her butt. Homemade wipes won’t. Plus the oil helps create a nice barrier in case you hate to use butt cream with each change, as I do. I do keep a pack of commercial wipes in my diaper bag for on the go.

So, uh, yeah…

OOooh. I just came up from another tip from me to you. If you buy a bag of M&Ms, do NOT lay them next to the vent of your lap top. Unless you like them really, REALLY soft.

Today, ZGirl is two months old. How in the world can each single day drag on but two months fly by?


Many of you probably saw this postcard through Postsecret. Would you believe that even now, the sentiment is still true for me?

It was through our baptimsal classes that those feelings really came to a head. Here we were, participating in these classes out of necessity and tradition, not those of faith, sitting amongst several couples, many who were still pregnant and wanting to crawl out of my skin.

One of the exercises presented during the class was to think of a moment or event that completely shifted the dynamic of our marriage; something that made us closer. Mr. DD whispered to me that we should share our miscarriages and treatment with the group. I shook my head no. One, with the church frowning on IVF, I didn’t think it was a good idea to open that can of worms; and two, after the couple who were sponsoring the classes shared their miscarriage story, I just couldn’t.

Her story started like so many others: a heart beat that was too slow; a follow-up ultrasound to see what was happening to the baby, which was on her birthday; an immediate D&C. My heart went out to her knowing that the date she lost her son would never be forgotten. But then she said something that I just couldn’t relate to, that made me grit my teeth and curl my nails into my palm: There was a reason – a purpose – that her son died. Knowing he was in the Holy Mother’s arms gave meaning to his death.

Her announcement made me angry…and envious.

I wish I could have that kind of faith so I wouldn’t feel my heart constrict in jealousy when I see other pregnant women. I don’t even give them the benefit of the doubt, that it might have been difficult for them, too. I am not just jealous of how easy it probably was for them, but of how they get to complain about the pregnancy without guilt or judgement.

As I said in my last post, infertility has shadowed my views on just about everything around me. I don’t get the rose-colored glasses. Mine are peuce-green. Maybe now I’m just trying to excorcise all the infertilty demons and that’s why I’ve been writing about them again. I want to enjoy being a new mom as the days and weeks are floating away from me like the seeds of cotton trees. ZGirl turned 8 weeks on Wednesday. I go back to work in just three more. I don’t want to find myself so preoccupied with what could have been that I forget to stop and enjoy more of this:


Here’s what is crazy to me:

The men in the credit consolidating commercials all seem to be sporting hair plugs. What is wrong with a receding hairline anyway? I think balding men are kind of handsome. I also think if you were going to go with an “actor portrayal” you would use regular looking Joes and Janes, not some idiot who spent way to much money to look as if someone used a sharpie to draw in his hair. 

Couples who either do the family bed or co-sleeping thing. To each their own and all that jazz, but just from the few times Mr. DD has put ZGirl down where he was sleeping to calm her down, it’s about as relaxing to me as if someone had stuffed a raccoon and weasel into a pillow case next to me – what with all that snuffling, snorting and flailing. And that’s while she’s sleeping.

Packaging on baby bottle nipples. “Most like Mother’s breast.” Interesting, since I’m sure my nipples are not a strange shade of green, or clear, or hard, or cold. You can bring evidence of the contrary upon my death.

My father-in-law’s political opinions. I’m not sure even where to start but for him to have to even contemplate that our next president may be (shhhhhhh) black, or the VP may be a (gasp!) woman must make his brain spin. Last night he told us that he was talking with a friend of ours who this year decided the private school tuition was too high so he put his girls into the public school. This father then complained that it seemed as if the kids spent 2/3 of their class time reading, to which my FIL responded, “It’s because of that bullshit about the ‘no children left behind’ (an act signed by Bush in 2001).” What an ignorant ass.

Related to above, schools that are anal about the supplies kids are to bring with them. You want me to put my son’s name on each individual crayon and pencils, and not his initials since if the item is found by another student they won’t know who the initials belong to?…Right. I know for a fact that the crayons my son brought home at the end of his kindergarten year were not all his. And the pencils? Cripes, with so many parents giving out pencils instead of candy for Valentine’s or Birthday’s, I have enough pencils to side my house with.

Lastly, I admit that I am also one of the crazy sumsofbitches. I finally downloaded the BookSmart program by Blurb and I have found a new diversion. I’m making ZGirl’s baby book. I will make one for XBoy. I think I’ll even make a book for each year he’s in school and download pictures of his crafts and homework to it instead of saving paper that will eventually end up as nesting material for mice (I speak from personal experience). It’s better than scrapbooking! Wait, I don’t scrapbook because that’s C.R.A.Z.Y., too (no offense).


I’m actually working on a legitimate post, which explains the recent flurry of crap, or as I like to call it “fluff”.

However before I put it out there, I’d like to thank all of you who tried to help locate my lost post about XBoy’s Dental Drama. I’m still feeling a bit gutted about that.

I don’t know what to say about Bloglines finally updating. I’m still promoting exporting your Blogline feeds to Reader.Google, which is really easy.

Some of you have noted the generic avatar assigned to your comments. My little monsters…While I personally think they are kinda cute, there is a way of personalizing your avatar without having a WordPress account. If you go here, to Gravatar, you can create a free account and assign an avatar to your email. Once you do that, whatever wordpress blog you comment on will have your own personalized avatar and not the mystery man, or quilt block or amoeba-like monster attached.

I’ve decided to have a postpartum baby shower, cooties be damned. Even I am left uninspired to purchase much for Murdock not knowing his or her sex. Apparently over 70% of expecting parents find out the sex of their child prior to birth, so guess who the manufacturers are appealing to? Not the less than 30% of us looking for “gender neutral” items. And while a majority of gestators find out, I find it ironic that whenever we admit we don’t know if Murdock is a boy or a girl, we are enthusiastically commended for making the “smart” choice in waiting. You and I both know that same person is saying to those who know, “Oh, that’s the way to go! It makes shopping so much easier!”

Of course these are the same people who say to me, “Someone wasn’t planning for the Summer heat, now were we?” I seriously attract Stupid. It’s got to be a reflection on me somehow.

Anyway, as I was saying about the shower, I had been working on a wish list/registry kind of thing which is now published as one of my pages. It’s also password-protected, but it’s the same password. I honest-to-god expect nothing. I actually started it to help me figure out what I needed and to compare prices, but since I’ve been asked…well, there it is. Trust me, nothing too exciting.

Cripes. Look what rambling can do to what was supposed to be a short post. Blech. Par for course since the post I’m working on is actually long. Enjoy brevity as I know it!