I am so slack

I did a disgusting thing two days ago. For an entire day (maybe two), I took what I thought were clean bottles/nipples from the dishwasher and used them for Audrey.

I guess you can figure out what the problem was. They weren't clean. 

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Matt and I are always joking around with each other, so when he told me he thought the dishes in the dishwasher were dirty later that night, I said, "Please tell me you're joking." He insisted, so we began to inspect the dishes. We rinse everything off so well (since our dishwasher sucks), that it's hard to tell sometimes.

We inspected coffee cups, glasses, etc. I was convinced they were clean. I JUST KNEW THEY WERE. But then Matt lifted out the offending plate, and it was clearly dirty.

I burst into tears. I'd been feeding my baby with dirty bottles and spoons. GAG. I am a total germaphobe, so I really felt nauseated at the thought. I mean, after we rinse dirty bottles, they sometimes sit there for a day or two. Imagine all the bacteria that collected on them before they even went in the dishwasher. I cried harder.

Matt came in the bedroom and told me I was being ridiculous for crying. ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME? RIDICULOUS? Men. Why don't they understand these things? Why didn't he understand that, in the job of taking care of Audrey, I had failed completely and totally?

I am soooo disgusted with myself. And I blame Oprah. That's right. I saw one of her shows years ago about germs, where they tested hotel comforters, doorknobs, kitchen sinks, etc. for germs. I've been totally paranoid ever since. Yes, I'm aware I have OCD, so don't even tell me that.

So, I suck. And I feel like a failure.

We have two teeth!

I can't believe it. My tiny, helpless baby who came home from the hospital with me in December, who couldn't even lift her head, now has TEETH! I just can't believe it (oh yeah, I already said that).

She got the first one on July 15, and the second one came in on the 29th. As I went to record this amazing development in her baby book, I marveled at how fast this is all going. Despite the fact that I'm with her basically 24/7, she's changing every day before my eyes, and I can't keep up with it.

I had already told Mom about the first tooth, but honestly, so much has been happening that I forgot to tell her about the second one. So when we went furniture shopping yesterday, she was appalled that I hadn't told her about the second tooth.

And I thought, why didn't I tell her? I used to call her the second Audrey did something new. This certainly qualified as a major development.

I immediately felt guilty, as if it somehow diminished Audrey's milestone because I didn't pick up the phone, or at the very least, shout it from the the rooftops. I mean, my baby has her second tooth! And that's something to celebrate.

I did celebrate with Matt; we were excited, shocked, and so proud. We were constantly trying to get Audrey to open her mouth so we could see it. We did everything we could think of to make her laugh, which was the only way she'd open her mouth for us (stubborn child).

I'm trying to give myself the benefit of the doubt here. I barely spoke to Mom this week, and most of our communication was by text. But still, the lingering guilt remains.

Do you ever get over that when you're a mother? Somehow, I don't think so. I think the guilt can eat away your soul if you let it.

If you'll excuse me, I'm going up to the rooftop now to shout the news. Better late than never, right?

Re-homing our dog

This is our dog, T:



This picture was taken on the day Matt and I got engaged, in February of 2006. As you can probably tell, I love T. I really do. I complain about him constantly, get mad at him daily, and sometimes want to physically harm him (relax, I don't).

But we're going to have to re-home him. I've been dealing with T's shedding for about 4 years now, and it is BAD. Let's just say that, even if we vacuumed every day, his hair would be EVERYWHERE. When my nieces, Elizabeth and Nichole, come over and play on the floor, as kids do, they are covered with dog hair. From head to toe.

Elizabeth, who's spent the night with us several times, is allergic to T. She has to take Benadryl every time she comes over, which zonks her out. That can be a good thing, if she's having one of her hyper days:) But seriously, there are times she can't even remember what we did when she spent the night, and that's not like her. Once, and I kid you not, we were standing in the Bi-lo parking lot waiting for Matt to load groceries in the car, and she fell asleep while standing. I've never, ever seen someone do that before.

But it's not because of Elizabeth that we need to re-home T, because unfortunately, she nor her sister get to come here as often as we would like. There are lots of reasons why we have to do this:

1) When I think of this beautiful little girl,

crawling around our house covered in black hair, I cringe inside. Literally, I feel my insides shrinking up with disgust.

2. T's bark could raise the dead. He sounds like a Great Dane or Rottweiler when he barks, but he's actually quite small and wouldn't hurt a flea. Lick it to death, maybe. We've tried training him not to bark, yes, we've watched Cesar on TV show us how easy it is, but it only stops his barking maybe 3/4 of the time. And we have to be right there beside him in order to quiet him. And his bark scares the $hit out of Audrey.

3. I'm allergic to T. Before Audrey came, it really wasn't a problem, since the allergist told us to keep him out of our bedroom and I'd be okay. We've also trained him to stay out of the nursery, which shows he's a smart dog. But here's the deal; when Audrey starts crawling, she's going to be covered in the aforementioned dog hair. Then when I pick her up, I'm going to get it all over me. Which is going to be a serious problem.

We've thought of many different options, from putting him outside to taking him to training, but I won't go into detail here because this post is already too long. But I'd like to say, to all the people who keep trying to make me feel guilty about re-homing him, YOU ARE WELCOME TO TAKE HIM HOME WITH YOU. LIKE TODAY, RIGHT NOW. I'M SITTING HERE WAITING.

I am sick, sick, sick of having to defend our choice. Tired of it. I love that dog, and this is going to hurt me, and it's definitely going to hurt Matt, since he had him way before I knew him. It's easy to sit around and judge us for doing what we need to do, but not so easy when others (family or friends) could easily take him into their homes, as we've pleaded with them to do, and they won't, or can't. SO STOP JUDGING ME.

And if I hear one more person say, "A little dog hair won't hurt a baby", I will probably starting screaming and not stop for, like, hours. So if you'll help us out, take him. If not, shutty.

That is all.

Misery

Oh. my. word. I feel like a poop popsicle, like $hit on a stick. I'm trying to clean up my language, written or otherwise, because of the babe. I know, she can't read, but this is bound to surface at some time or other. "The truth will out" and "In vino veritas"; yes, I like my wine. AAAAAAAHHHHHHH.

I'm sitting under an electric blanket, wearing pajama pants, long-sleeved T-shirt, and a robe. And heavy socks. Oh, and did I mention that it's at least 76 degrees in the house?

I think I have a sinus infection, and I dread waking up my husband in a few minutes to tell him because he might have to take the day off. Sinus infections sound so blase', so benign. But they are not! There's a reason that the doctor's office will fit you in that day if you think you have one. It can burst and infect your brain with green pus and you'll die. Okay, now that I think about it, that last sentence is bullcrap. But still. They really can abscess into your brain, and I should know, because I'm a hypochondriac of the highest order. Give me a computer, access to WebMD, and some symptoms, and I'm a happy camper.

I'm usually not such a wuss about these things, but dang. Audrey started out with a cold last Wednesday, I got it Thursday, and we both have wicked coughs. Matt had prom duties and I had to actually get my mom over here to take care of us on Saturday. And I am not a person who likes to ask for help. Little Miss Independent, indeed.

As per usual, I think my cold has made the ugly metamorphosis into a sinus infection. My head is killing me. I hate taking antibiotics, so this especially sucks, but my biggest problem is childcare for today. I don't want to expose Audrey to more germs, and I honestly don't think I can take care of her alone today. The dizziness, the stumbling...I better stop or Child Protective Services will pay me a visit today.

I think Matt has a meeting after school that he can't miss, related to school, but for his part-time business. Which means he couldn't miss a day of school and then show up for this meeting. Dammit.

I could ask Mom to come over again, but I feel guilty. She spent all day Saturday here, and she'd have to take a day off work, and she just had a tooth removed. I could ask The Mother-in-Law, but that would be hard because my house is a freaking WRECK. I would be so embarrassed for her to see it, truly.

Guess I better go in there and bite the bullet. Matt has to let school know by 6 if he can't be there. Please let me be mistaken about the date of this meeting.