. . . take me away

I now understand the premise behind those cheesy "Calgon . . . take me away" commercials from the 80s:

 

Poor Bryn has had a blocked tear duct from birth.  We've tried drops, massage, warm compress, etc - but nothing has helped.  She wakes up with her eye glued shut every single day.  So, I decided it was finally time to take care of things.  Our appointment was scheduled for this morning at 8 am, and the office is clear downtown.   They told me to be there 15 min early for paperwork.  So, we left the house at 6:45.  We got downtown at 7:30 (no traffic at that time, which is strange for rush hour),  parked, walked in, only to find that her appointment was next door in the pediatric building.  So, we walked clear-the-heck over there (Bryn wanted to walk and G wanted to be carried - not fun), and actually found the office with 15 minutes to spare - just like we were instructed - and the office was closed!  I tried to call back to the lady I'd just talked to, and her phone said their office was closed.  I decided we could just sit in the hallway and wait - but G had to potty, so we went in search of the restrooms.  We found them way down the hall.  Not very convenient for a pediatric medical center.

 

5 minutes later when we returned, the office was open and full of people.  WTF?  I went to sign in at the desk, and the woman rudely told me that she'd help me in a minute - so I stood there and waited.  She snapped at me that I could sit down, because she really would be a minute.  I was starting to get pissed . . . then Bryn decided to poop more than she'd ever pooped in her entire life.  I asked where I could change her, and they sent me clear-the-heck back down the hall to those same restrooms.  Poor Bryn was a mess.  I usually only carry about 4 wipes and one extra diaper with me.  But this was a 20+ wipe job, so I was not prepared.  I had G get me some TP from the stall to help clean up the poo-splosion.  She came back and noticed (rather loudly) that Bryn had eaten corn and carrots and beans.  At that point I stopped her.  I'm sure the other ladies in the restroom didn't want to hear the entire contents of my daughter's BM.

 

Her clothes were a mess.  The one bright spot of the whole ordeal was that the restroom had diaper disposal baggies, which also were large enough to hold Bryn's poop covered outfit.  So, I had somewhere to put the dirty clothes, but nothing clean to put on her!  Poor girl had to go back in wearing just her diaper.

 

We made it back to the office, and got called back to a room.  And the doctor came in relatively quickly.  He did a quick exam, and decided that Bryn did indeed have a clogged tear duct, but he needed to do an exam anyway and needed to dilate her eyes.  The nurse came in to give Bryn the drops, and told us they will burn and sting, and Bryn will cry.  Well - drops went in and Bryn couldn't have cared less.  Then we had to wait 20 minutes, so back to the waiting room we went.

 

Bryn kept pulling off her diaper, and while I turned my back to rediaper the child, G would decide to run laps around the office.  Clearly annoying all the other patients.  It was a long 20 minutes.

 

Finally we got called back for the second time.  No sooner were we in the room when G announced that she had to potty again (sometimes having a potty trained child is SO difficult).  I asked the nurse where the potty was, and she sent me to the same potty clear-in-the-heck down the hall.  UGH.  We ran there, pottied, and came back, only to find that we'd missed the doctor.  He went in with another patient.

 

By this time, it was Bryn's nap time, and she was crying "bye bye bye". I didn't blame her - I wanted to go home too.  Heck, I would have been happier to be having a root canal than sitting in that office anymore.  The doctor finally came in.  He had no bedside manor - I could not believe he was a pediatric doctor.  After a 2 minute exam, he told me that Bryn indeed needs surgery, and told me to wait for his staff to come in and schedule it.  When I asked when I could expect the surgery to be scheduled, he rudely told me that his staff new his schedule better than he did, and I'd need to wait for them.

 

 . . . ugh

 

Surgery was scheduled for June.  We successfully made it to the car (which was like a mile away) without any more incident where  Bryn promptly fell asleep.

Conquering my fears

I'm very afraid of heights. We're not talking a little bit - I get serious anxiety leaning over a balcony railing. So, when my husband suggested we take our 2-year-old rock climbing (she's been asking to go) I thought he was insane. But, he assured me that its perfectly safe. So, on Friday afternoon, we met some friends, my brother and his gf in the mountains. They strapped me up and made me go first. The climbing part was ok - until I looked down. I only made it up about 15 feet before I was begging to come down. And coming down was tricky too - I had to let go of the rock, push my feet into the side of the cliff, and hold my legs out straight. Then, I just "walked" right down the mountain. Ha. Easier said than done. It took me quite a while to get that courage up. But once I actually did it, I'll admit that it was very fun.
After me was Gracelin's turn. She excitedly strapped on the harness, and started right up. She caught on quite quickly, and had a blast climbing up. Of course, we "helped" her along a bit, by pulling the rope up, but she was climbing in a sense - and loving every minute of it. She made it much higher than I did, and made it a point of telling me so.

Not wanting to be shown up by my 2-year-old little girl, I tried again after everyone else got a turn. This time, I made it much higher before I looked down. Of course I was again paralyzed with fear. But coming down was much less scary.

Funny thing is: ever since, I've been dying to go back. I even got a new pair of climbing shoes from my favorite obsession, steepandcheap.com. I think though that we may try the climbing gym next for some work on the basics, but we do plan on conquering the cliffs again soon. G and I are hooked.

I love my kids, but . . .

. . . they're going to be the death of me. If I don't die of embarrassment, I'm sure something else will do me in.

G is at the age right now where she's bound to say something that makes me want to hide my face. For example, what she did to me on Sunday: We had barely sat down in the pew at church when she announced that she had to go potty. So, I took her. But, she insisted on going herself. I stood outside and held the door. She had a bit of difficulty maneuvering herself and her fru-fru Easter dress, and ended up peeing on herself and the floor. I cleaned up the floor, then ran her home to change clothes. We were back at church only 15 minutes late, but a few minutes later, she had to go again. This time Daddy took her. After she was finished, she came running back to tell me, in her loudest almost-3-year-old voice "I didn't pee on the floor this time!" I could hear snickers coming from 3 rows back.

And then there are the embarrassing things she does while playing. The girls got several rubber duckies for Easter this year, and ended up with 2 big ones and several little ones - naturally a mommy, daddy, and babies. I watched her playing innocently. She'd lined them up, and was pushing them as they "swam" across the kitchen floor. So sweet. Then I watched as she picked up a pencil and began stabbing the big blue ducky. I asked her what was going on, and she told me "the mommy duck is mad at the daddy duck, so she's killing him with this pencil!" Ahhh! I hope she doesn't play like that at daycare. People are going to start to wonder what goes on at our house.

Oh, and did I mention a few weeks ago, when I was signing the girls in at daycare. G asked me if I'd remembered to wear my panties that day. The director peeked around the corner and laughed (I'm sure wondering if I often forgot my panties).

I guess being the mommy of a preschooler means lots of embarrassing moments. Good thing she's such a sweetie.

The past few days

I've been lax at updating this weekend.  But, we had a busy few days, and I'd like to update a bit.  How about a recap:

 

Thursday:  Ben's birthday

Ben turned 30, and had the day off.  He spent the morning hiking [url=http://www.utah.com/hike/mt_olympus.htm]Mount Olympus[/url].  I'd arranged for him to spend the afternoon at my [url=http://www.segolilydayspa.com/]favorite day spa[/url] for a massage.  I was somewhat worried that he wouldn't enjoy the massage, but he thoroughly enjoyed every minute of his time at the spa.  I don't know why I was worried - who doesn't enjoy a bit of pampering? 

 

I arranged for a baby sitter for the girls, and I took him to Texas Roadhouse for dinner.  Not the fanciest place, but it was what he was in the mood for.  I mentioned to our server that it was his birthday, so as we were finishing up our dinner, she brought a stool with a saddle on top over to our table.  She told him to "saddle up" and then shined a light on him while we wished him a "yeehaw" for his birthday.  I think I was more embarassed than he was though.  It was a fun night.

 

We were finished with dinner by 7:30, and had the sitter until 9 - but we couldn't think of anywhere to go.  We drove around for awhile, and ended up at my sister and BIL's house.  After chatting with them for awhile, we headed home.  We've gotten boring in our old age.

 

Saturday - hike with the girls:

And wouldn't you know it - my camera batteries were dead.  We hiked to the Bell Canyon reservoir - its only about a mile to the lake, but steep enough when carrying a large baby on my back.  About ? way up, the trail crosses over the stream.  Bryn loved the water, and kept saying "wow".  Gracelin kept saying that she wanted to walk, but since the trail was steep and rocky we kept telling her she needed to stay put.  Finally, Ben got tired of hearing her ask (and probably tired of carrying her too) so he stopped and let her hike.  She did amazing, and made it the rest of the way to the lake by herself. 

 

Although the water level was low, the girls loved the lake.  G couldn't get enough of throwing rocks into the water, and Bryn wanted to swim with the ducks (or "quack quacks" as she calls them).  It was a nice warm day, and very peaceful at the lake.  I could have sat there listening to the water rush into the lake, and the ducks and geese "quacking" and "honking" for a very long time.  Apparently the girls felt the same way - poor Bryn sobbed "bye quack quack" as we packed her back up.  G insisted on hiking down, so we let her try.  She actually made it down the entire way.  At one point near the bottom she took a tumble.  I asked her if she was ok, and she proclaimed that she hurt her elbow, knee, bum-bum, leg and back, but she was ok.  And continued to keep on hiking.  She's a tough little girl.

 

Easter Sunday:

Since our families live so close to one another, we split our time between them this year.  The day started with the girls waking up to find that the Easter Bunny had visited.  I got them books, bubbles, and balls (alliteration theme unintentional).  Then we got dressed in their cute, matching princess dresses (I'll try to attach pics, but I'm not sure if it will work) and headed to church.  After a church and a quick nap, we headed first to my parents' house and then Ben's for the Easter frenzy.  G got dessert at both places, and loved the chocolate pie.  Bryn just loved all the attention.  It was a fun day.

 

I'm getting brave . . .

. . . I signed up for a race! My brother and his friend are coming into town next week, and he convinced me to register for a race with them. Its *just* a 5k, but I'm a bit nervous. I have known for awhile that I want to run a 5k - but all along I was thinking that I'd give my body 6 months to adjust before I tried anything competitive. But, I couldn't tell him no.

I registered last week, and them promptly jumped on the treadmill to see if I even could run 3.1 miles. Guess what? I did it. I ran slowly, trying not to push myself and risk injury. And I finished in 40:24. Not a quick pace by any stretch. But I know that I could have pushed it a bit. So, I should at least finish. My goal is to not have to walk.

I'm also doing a weight-loss contest with some of my friends. We all put $20 into a pot, and the winner (one who loses the most pounds) gets all the money. Quite the incentive. We even emailed "before" pictures, along with the picture of the scale showing our starting weight, to the girl overseeing the contest. Boy was that embarrassing. I can only hope that my "after" pictures look much more attractive. LOL

I do plan on winning the contest. I know that seems like quite the lofty goal since I've been the same exact weight for the past 8 weeks. But I think that I'm finally to the point with my running that I'm going to start dropping the weight. My mileage is to the point where it has to be burning significant calories. 3 miles a day is down one pound every 10 days.

I've really been good about my food intake too. I've stuck to my no sugar rule (other than one sinful piece of apple pie). And, I've given up soda. I slowly weaned myself over the past 2 weeks, and today I drank my last one. Its only water to drink for me from here on out. Maybe some herbal tea if I'm feeling like a splurge.

Self-conscious

My husband is a funny man.  When I first met him, one thing about him that was attractive was that he was so confident - but not in a cocky way.  He was friendly to people, and very comfortable with who he was.  Somehow over the years, he has lost this.  Now he is a very self-conscious person. 

 

Take last night for example.  He was invited by a neighbor to go watch the NCAA championship game with some of the "guys" from the neighborhood.  Before he left, he asked me if I thought he looked good enough.  He was wearing a ratty tee-shirt and some bright blue running shorts - which honestly didn't look very good.  So I told him what I thought.  He decided that he needed to change, but most of his clothes were in the washer/dryer (I've given up on trying to meet his laundry needs, but that a story for another day).  He put on a pair of khaki shorts with a grey tee-shirt, and then asked me if I thought grey and khaki went together.  Again, my answer was "NO".  He didn't believe me - and insisted that grey and khaki were a perfectly fine combination.  So I Googled:  "do grey and khaki go together" to which we found - NO - grey and khaki do NOT go together.  So, he was forced to change again.

 

I've never seen him so concerned about his appearance.  I know he's uncomfortable because he's heavier than he's ever been.  And he really doesn't have a lot of clothes (mainly because its difficult to find stuff that fits him in regular stores, and he refuses to buy big and tall).  Sometimes I long to have a husband of a "normal" size.  I know that is unfair of me.  But I can't even wrap my arms around him.  And then there all the health issues.

 

He has tried.  We started the c25k plan together.  I'm on the last week, while he's basically given up.  I don't think he honestly completed one week of the program.  And he starts new diets all of the time.  Just last week he gave me the biggest guilt-trip about drinking soda (I'm now down to just one diet coke a day thankyouverymuch), but then when we stopped for gas yesterday, he asked me to run in and buy him a coke.  I guess he lasted a week.

 

I worry a lot about his health.  His dad and aunt are diabetic, and not healthy people.  And his family does have a propensity for poor metabolism (he has some overweight siblings as well) - so I know it is going to take hard work.  But I really want him to take charge of his health.