Because you've all waited so nicely...here's a picture of the Duckling and Peanut together!!! They are kept under the tightest security when together so as to avoid any number of toys being lobbed at Peanut's head. 

The Great Closet in the Sky

Today was a sad day in my life.

Think back to “Mr. Mom” when Michael Keaton so bravely tossed his beloved flannel shirt into the fire. Today, I understood the pain and sorrow he felt. It was a symbolic and mournful time, but I finally let go of my grey yoga pants. These pants made it through two pregnancies with me as well as were the couture de choice upon the Duckling’s hospital homecoming to our humble abode in Austin.

The demise of the pants began in February 2004 after a run-in with the hell-dog named “Angel” who roamed our neighborhood in Austin. In an attempt to show me that she was the boss of her street she grabbed the back of my leg. Luckily for her, I am an animal lover, otherwise the buck knife that I wielded that day would have found it’s way into her little jaw (I don’t say this lightly, she was a bad dog (with stupid owners) and I did have to file a report with Animal Control that day…the Duckling was only 8 weeks old when she attacked us). The hole she left in the left pant leg was inoperable. Over time the hem on the pants also began to fade and let lose. Time, my friends, time, was taking its toll.

Last night I found a similar pair at Target and although they are not the exact shade of grey, nor are they quite as soft as the originals, I know over time I will come to love them just as much.

For today though, it is with a heavy heart and hand that I release the original grey yoga pants into the Great Closet in the Sky.

Three cheers to you and may you rest in peace with all the beloved clothing items that have come before you. Please feel free to leave comments remembering those clothing items which you have had to release to their hangers in the Great Closet in the Sky.

Please see the photo memorial below for some of the good times that Grey Yoga Pants and I shared.

The Duckling, Grey Pants and I feed Ghost and Joe back home in Austin. 

Grey Pants on the couch (we frequently spent time together on the couch...) with teh Duckling in Madison! 

Grey Pants on the couch in Austin with the Duckling (one month old!). 

Evolution

The Duckling has started her evolution from Cave Baby to Speaking Homo Sapien Baby. Sadly, somewhere in this transformation she somehow has come to believe that she is from Massachusetts.

I can hear her naming the objects from her car seat as we pass them on the road, “Caah, caah, caah…” she says triumphantly…each and every time a “caah” passes. It’s uncanny how much she sounds like a Bostonian.

What is a mother to do? I suppose we can forever hang up the hopes of hearing our dear daughters calling out, “I’m fixin’ to do it now!” as we ask about homework or “Are all ya’ll going to the park today?” when they encounter their friends on the sidewalk.

((sigh))

Papa Duck's solution for a screaming, crying, gassy baby? Wrap her up like a mummy and wedge her between couch pillows! If that doesn't work...bore her to sleep with the hunting channel!

The Duckling's new daytime play largely includes getting her "babee" and Cashew in and out of the bouncer, swing and carrier. Here Cashew models my underwear while being pushed in a stylish pink stroller. I seriously need to reconsider where I leave the laundry bin. At least this time the undies are clean! 

The Duckling busily gets her "babee" ready for a road trip.

Of Mirrors and Boobies

Being first time parents, when we brought the Duckling home from the hospital we spent countless hours watching this perfect little girl that we had created (despite some drinkie-poos on our honeymoon and medication for poison ivy and no-see-um bites…all before we knew about the pregnancy of course!). While she slept in those early days her face would reflect dozens of little emotions brought on, presumably, by dreams.

While we could figure out that the scrunched up forehead and pouty lip dream was likely a remembrance of being drawn into a bright delivery room from her nice, warm, cozy spot in my body we were more unsure about the occasional smiles we saw bloom across her face during sleep. How many “good” things had she experienced in those first few days of life? What did she know of things that are good like soft puppies, Ghiradelli chocolate and clearance sales at Target? We attributed the smiley dreams to the two positive things she had encountered…mirrors and boobies.

Her changing pad was on the dresser in our bedroom and she enjoyed looking at herself in the mirror while her diapers were being changed. As for the boobies, if you’ve ever seen a newborn root or blindly open and close their mouths looking for the elusive boob at feeding time, you know where the “boobie” part came in. The Duckling was nicknamed “Shark Attack” for the way she sought out the Food Source (Papa Duck’s nickname for me) in her early days.

One day I mentioned this to my friend Alicia, her husband, Jesse and Alicia’s mother as we sat at our kitchen table chatting. Alicia’s mom was holding the Duckling when a big smile came across her sleeping face.

“Yeah, we think when she smiles like that in her sleep she’s dreaming about mirrors and boobies, what else could an infant have encountered that make her smile like that?”

After a bit of thought, Jesse commented, “Duckling, I smile when I dream about mirrors and boobies too.”

We now see Peanut expressing the same facial contortions in her sleep. Frowning, pouting, smiling…

Ahhhh, mirrors and boobies, my little Peanut. Welcome to the Good Things of life.

I am Mature.

In a true showing of maturity, I proved to myself and the world that I am able to control my childlike impulses.

I wore new shoes on our walk on Monday which resulted in a fabulous blister on my ring-toe...well, the one next to the pinkie toe anyway. It was the size of the small bubbles on a sheet of bubblewrap which I assume would have produced a nice stream of water had I popped it.

It is now Thursday and I have not touched the blister (other than to push on it a bit to marvel at its enormity) and have noticed that nature has done something with the watery liquid inside of it.

I've never left a blister alone long enough to see the natural course of a blister's healing.

Proof once again that I am growing up.

But yes, farts are still funny which I suppose negates my whole practice of self-control noted above.

This one is for Mrs. Mates...check out the new Audrey inspired Boppy! You can see the cow spots on the pillow through the slipcover...looks just like Aud!!!!

"I'm too sexy for my hat, too sexy for my hat..." 

The Duckling and Peanut come face to face! "What is with all that screaming?" thinks the Duckling. 

And...

...the angels and archangels sang in a heavenly chorus...

BOTH GIRLS ARE ASLEEP!!!!!

So, Papa Duck thought it might be therapeutic for me to talk about my Jekyl/Hyde personality today. Let me get comfy on the couch here and you can start taking notes whenever you see fit.

The mornings start off pretty well around here. Papa has been assisting in the Feeding Frenzy that is the Duckling's breakfast while I play Human Milk Factory to Peanut. Things usually go really well until first nap-time which is around 10 AM...after that everything tailspins out of control.

Papa comes home for lunch to help out, which is totally sweet of him, but the Duckling who thrives on consistency and routine, loses it. She doesn't want to eat her turkey. She spies my Wheat Thins box and grunts, pointing at the yellow box. Cave Baby returns. We tell her she can have a cracker if she eats one piece of turkey. In Cave Baby style she grunts louder and throws the turkey on the floor. We tell her, "No cracker until you eat the turkey." This time tears accompany the grunting and flying turkey. Lunch is over.

All of her noise has now roused Peanut from her snoozing (current daytime naps max out somewhere around 30 minutes). The girl spends longer eating than she does napping during the day. They volley crying until Papa leaves for the sanity and sanctuary of work.

During the afternoon it tends to feel like someone has placed jumper cables on my nipples and kicked me in the hoo-ha (sorry Dad...). Peanut wants to "cluster feed" and the Duckling wants to destroy the house. We've been blessed with fabulous weather the last few days, so we take a walk. The Duckling hollers about not being able to get out and play at the park, so I tell her that we're going to look for doggies some more to which she responds, "Woof woof." Crisis averted.

Afternoon naps begin well...the Duckling goes to sleep (occasionally after sharing her Pootie with Cashew and singing a few songs in her crib) and Peanut passes out after eating...again. But after sleeping for about 30 minutes, Peanut wakes up screaming. Good God, she can't be hungry again? Gas? Nightmare about the birthing experience (me too sweetheart, me too!)?

I lose it. I go from Happy Doting Mother, to understanding why seahorses leave child rearing up to the fathers. I try to check my e-mails, my blogs, I even stupidly tried to post yesterday. Why doesn't my baby sleep like a normal newborn!? I want to sleep, why doesn't she.

Papa Duck comes home, I'm crying, various parts of me are sore and aching because once again I've forgotten to take the pain medication after the first dose when I woke up in the morning. I'm ready to give up breastfeeding because the latch is good and I'm doing it right, so why the jumper-cable nipple syndrome?!?!

I feel wildly out of control like I've indulged in way too many Jack and Cokes except I'm not reaping the benefit of being drunk and happy. It's like being back in college when you see that really cute guy from the cafeteria at the bar you're at, who just so happens to be in your roommate's psych class (so you know his name), and you look up his phone number (in the campus directory) and Drunk Dial. It seems like a good idea at the time, but then the next morning as you're battling the effects of a night with Jack Daniels you remember the Drunk Dial. Extreme highs and extreme lows..OK, just me maybe.

The point is, I swing from being happy, perfect mother to someone who (as Lucky Lum put it) understands what Andrea Yates was thinking. NO, I AM NOT GOING TO HARM MY PRECIOUS GIRLS OR MYSELF, I just said, I understand how the madness can drive you to feel so out of control. Hormones my friends, hormones.
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Positive News: Peanut has been only waking up once at night. We put her to bed after the final feeding at 11 PMish and she doesn't wake up for food again until around 4 AM. Can't complain about that, but after not sleeping all day, I suppose she needs a good night's sleep too!
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DING! My time's up. Thanks for the vent today. I promise I will return to my usual happy, jovial self here soon...in the meantime, if the girls continue to sleep for a few more minutes, I'll get some pics up.

Sisters & Uninvited Guests?

I realize it's only been two days since we arrived home with Peanut, but the Duckling is doing a pretty good job trying understand this new person in our home. All of the "babies" she's ever seen are at least a month or two old, and I think at first seeing Peanut in the bassinet at the hospital kind of freaked her out. Maybe she thought the baby was sick? Or there was something wrong with her? She'd get this big pouty lip and cry each time she'd see her. Now that we're at home she likes to talk about the baby and point to her, but our attendance at mealtimes causes quite the distraction!
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Early this morning I heard a very distinct noise coming from the landing at the top of our stairs. This used to be Lucky's area and is now the nursing/playroom/sunning area. The noise was very definitely the movement of the baby gate at the top of the stairs. I kicked Papa Duck and quietly asked if he heard it. Duh...the man sleeps through anything, what was I thinking? Then it happened again! He went to investigate and headed downstairs to see if there was anything amiss. Then as I lay there it occurred to me that I SWORE I had heard the silverware drawer being slammed earlier in the night (being too tired to care if someone was stealing my silverware I fell asleep again before Peanut's next feeding). The more I thought about the noises and the house we're living in I thought it wasn't likely a person we were hearing, but a ghost.

Meritt- don't you have a denizen of sorts living in your home? Anyway, I've heard that spirits are very interested in children and babies...this is assuming you believe in this type of stuff.

I don't care if they're here as long as they're peaceful and let us be.

Speaking of peaceful...the Duckling is at the park with Papa and Peanut is passed out in the sun (this is SO my daughter!) for her jaundice...time for me to start dinner!

Cheers all!

World, this is Peanut...Peanut, say hello to the world! 

Because everyone deserves to be introduced to the world on the internet wet and naked! 

Woohoo! Found the cable...here's Peanut! Full head of hair just like Big Sis! 

Mama and Peanut's Adventures

We're baaaaaack....

Gotta make this short and as Papa Duck is playing a rousing game of Hide and Seek with the cable for the camera I can't post pictures, but here's the low-down on our recent arrival.

I called my dad at 7 AM on Wednesday and said I was pretty sure "today was the day" so head on up north for Ducking Duty then I continued to chart contractions...at 11 AM they were about 5 minutes apart so we called the doctor and she called us in. Thankfully my dad AND mom made it there by 10ish to watch the Duckling.

Like last time I vastly underestimated how far we were in the process...I was 7 cm dilated and she sent us "directly to the hospital, do not pass go, do not collect $200"...she's English and very funny. If you want someone to cheer you on through labor, this is your lady. Anyone moving to my neck of the woods and in need of a fabulous OB/GYN, let me know.

I made sure that everyone we talked to from the doctor on knew I wanted drugs. And the sooner the better, so don't hold out on me folks. We made it to the hospital by noon I had my drugs within about an hour. As I stared dreamily at the anesthesiologists, I thought, "I love you guys." Which now that I think about it, I actually said that too...repeatedly.

To spare you any of the pain that I experienced (let's just say the double epi I had in Austin allowed me to feel nothing, this one...not quite the same)...we pushed for an hour starting at 3 and she, Peanut (sorry...I'll send out her name in an e-mail...just want to avoid the Singapoearn (is that right?) perv who is interested in my underwear ) was born at 4 PM (on the dot!). An attending doctor guessed her birthweight (prior to delivery of course) at 6 lbs. 10 oz...OOPS! She came out at a whopping 8 lbs. 1 oz. and 20 inches, just like her Big Sister.

I'll cut this short for now and try to get Papa Duck to reveal the USB cord's hiding location so as to post some photos soon. Thank you ALL for your kind words and comments! I missed you all and am glad to be home.

BTW, I do think I saw the case to Baby Mozart DVD somewhere in the mess in the delivery room...I knew she was in there chilling out and relaxing!

"Could be....who knows?"

"There's something due any day, I will know right away...maybe tonight?"

A bit of "West Side Story" for you musical buffs out there.

You might wonder why I'm posting at 5:15 AM...well my friends, I think we MIGHT actually see Peanut make his arrival today. I've been having contractions...ohhhhh, there's one...hold please...ahhhh, better... since about 3:20ish.

Anyway, I thought I'd upload the recent pics from our camera onto the computer to free up some space for Peanut, and then I decided to post them, but during our "computer clean-up" last night a setting got wiped out so I called India via SBC this AM and "Brian" (which I'm sure is not his real name) helped me restore the setting and VOILA! Here I am...but now I'm really tired and haven't been charting the times like I should be.

I was trying to do track them in the dark in bed, but every time I'd sit up to see the clock I'd wake up Papa Duck who would immediately want to know what was wrong.

"Same thing as the last time I sat up...still having contractions."

"You know he's not going to just fall out of you."

"Damn...I had been hoping for that! I heard the second time around is easier..."

Alright...I'm going to attempt to get some sleep, but my poor dad is likely to get that early morning call in a bit to let him know he's "on-call" for Duckling Duty.

Hey everybody! It's me and my bab-eee...I wonder if he's coming out soon!?!?!? 

A rather happy Duckling enjoys pizza for dinner! Shhhhhh...it was just frozen pizza...nothing fancy, but does she look like she cares? 

Wait, Wait, Weight

Each morning as I step on the scale for my morning dose of depression I’ve been pondering where all the weight I’ve gained has been distributed.

While I’m certain that some portion of this weight can be attributed to the seemingly phantom baby that I’m carrying, I’m equally as certain that it’s not all of the weight. At least it had better not be or I’m going to end up with a 30 plus pound newborn and I don’t even want to think about how he would make his entrance into the world.

As such, the only logical, scientific conclusion I’ve been able to come up with is that I have created the world’s largest placenta in which Peanut has taken up what appears to be a permanent residence. I suspect there’s a large screen TV in there as well as an entire library of The Wiggles and Baby Einstein DVDs. This still leaves a few pounds unaccounted for, so perhaps for his refreshment there is also a dorm-sized fridge stocked with milk.

If this isn’t the case, then I’m sure I have an overabundance of amniotic fluid, which is good since last time I think I was running low.

Nothing Much to Say

Still no baby...went to Gymboree this AM and will need to go shoe shopping this afternoon for a pair of casual black mules. Pulled mine out of the closet yesterday and noticed they are trashed. Yet another completely unusable item was moved across the country in vain. Ho hum...
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From the Funny Things Papa Duck Says Archives...

"For those of you with rheumatoid arthritis, your vocabulary is about to change..." the announcer says in the background on our TV.

"You mean if you have arthritis you get more than 26 letters?" asks Papa Duck.

"Ummmm, you get more words, honey...not a different alphabet," Mama Duck explains as she wishes a nice cold beer were an option for the evening.

Accountant humor I guess...what can you do?

Happy Monday all!

Two Small Requests

Please keep my two friends back home in Austin in mind...

The Gardners are expecting Baby G in August, but Daddy G is in Iraq until October. Please keep his safety in mind and send positive vibes to Mommy and Baby-To-Be.

Also, my friend Lucky Lum's newborn son (1 month old today!) is in the hospital with RSV. He's on the road to recovery, but again thoughts and well-wishes appreciated by all. If I were Lucky, I'd be a total wreck...she's doing well and being a strong mommy.

Mama and the Duckling hanging out with the giraffes at the local zoo yesterday. Since I'm posting today, guess where I'm not hanging out today doing "you know what"... 

Daddy and the Duckling check out a real live "Cashew" at the zoo...he's back there hiding by the rock wall. 

I'm Normal!

Papa Duck always claims that I'm neurotic because I like to keep the house picked-up. And, as I've mentioned before, we're not talking clean, clean, like eat off the floors clean, but I like the slipcovers and pillows to be straightened, the toys to be put away each night and the kitchen counter free of crumbs. I also like my toilet paper hanging over the front of the roll for easy access.

You, my friends, have confirmed that I AM NORMAL.

Poll results for the TP poll:
The end of the sheet comes over the top of the roll: 23 votes (58%)...NORMAL
The sheet hangs down behind the roll: 4 votes (10%)...REQUIRES CONTORTION OF HAND TO GET TO END OF PAPER
I don't use toilet paper: 6 votes (15%)...Ummmmm, GROSS
I prefer my toilet paper be handed to me by my bathroom attendant: 7 votes (18%)...DANG, I HAVE SOME IMPORTANT FRIENDS!

I'm not sure which is more disturbing...the fact that the "I don't use TP" got 6 votes OR the fact that that option placed third...not last as one would have anticipated...

New poll coming soon...sooner that Peanut, I hope.
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Papa Duck also says that I need to fess up and admit that I've actually claimed that I hope that Peanut doesn't come this weekend because the weather is supposed to be beautiful and I'd like to take the Duckling to the zoo. This family outing serves two purposes, one as a field trip so that Cave Baby may grunt to some creatures who actually understand her communication style and secondly, as a threat that she may well be released back into the wild with the primates if the post-nap-temper-tantrums don't cease.
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UPDATE: Papa Duck just came in here for a confession of his own ...he's admitted he's the "I don't use TP" voter...more to come on this as details become available...back to Target for anti-bacterial soap and Clorox wipes!!

Since Peanut is making no attempt to head to the nearest exit, I thought I'd fulfill my loyal readers' Baby Fever with some photos from the Duckling Archives. Here's she is on her real birth day. She may have come from the ghetto (Brackenridge Hosptial...it's an Austin thing), but damn she was cute! 

Oh yes, so cute! Here's the Duckling at a week and a half. 

You Mama, Me Cave Baby...

For those of you who haven’t gathered it from my little comments lately, the Duckling likes to grunt. Not only does she like to grunt, it seems to be her preferred form of communication. Yes, most 17 month olds can say mama, dada, no, yes, and a slew of other small, but vital words. Oh, the Duckling can say some of these words, including important things like "bubbles" and "cheese" as well as make the sounds of many household pets and barnyard animals WHEN PROMPTED. The child has no desire to utilize the words she knows on her own though.

Dinner frequently sounds like something you might hear in a 1960s caveman feature film. Lots of grunting. Lots. Pointing is big too. "Ugggh," Cave Baby grunts while thrusting her tiny finger toward the potatoes, "Ugggggggh!!!"

She can also sign two words...more and help. Although neither are actually the signs that I’ve taught her to use, being the astute parents that we are Papa Duck and I gather the meaning and follow her lead. This avoids food flinging and tempter tantrums, but not grunting.

Anyway, I’m being patient. The good news is that her hearing doesn’t seem to be the cause of her delayed speech. For example, after she’s thrown peas on the floor from her highchair (while grunting, of course), I can ask her to pick up the peas and hand them to me. She does it. She’s a very good listener, so I know it’s not an auditory issue.

I’m thinking it all stems back to that Scorpio thing. “I’ll do it (meaning ANYTHING) when I’m good and ready and ain’t no one going to tell me otherwise.” Did I mention she and her Daddy’s birthdays are just four days apart? The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.

Or maybe it’s because she was born a Texan.

Either way, we’re in trouble when the teenage years hit.
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And no…still no baby for those of you wondering.

"No Gnus is Good Gnus"

Remember "The Great Space Coaster" and Garry Gnus news segment? Or not...the show on a whole probably wasn't that memorable, but the catch-phrase seems fitting for today.

Just returned from the doctor...I am ZERO, ZILCH, NO centimeters dilated. Apparently this kid has like no desire to make a showing in the real world unlike his sister who was totally raring to go and then spent the next five months regretfully trying to figure out how to work her way back in.

But this is OK, because I am going out tonight for dinner with a friend...alone...sans child...to eat a hot meal...without food being flung at me...without being grunted at...as my OB put it, "Too bad you can't enjoy a margarita!"

Too bad indeed, my friends.

Wednesday Ramblings

Today is D-Day, but I’m not feeling it, although I didn’t last time either, we just kind of went to the hospital “in case” (at 5 cm with contractions every 5 minutes, yeah, sometimes I’m not all that aware of my body…). We see the doctor this afternoon, so I’ll keep you posted.

After last night’s Law & Order: SVU Papa Duck is refusing to watch the show in the future. The episode ended with the jury foreman speaking those important words, “We the jury find the Defendant…” and then cut to credits. I tried to explain that really a verdict is just the opinion formed on facts presented, so how definitive is it anyway? He didn’t care and said that the ending just sucked and wasn’t fair.

The Duckling had her first encounter with sand yesterday which she thoroughly enjoyed. We played at the park for about half an hour where she dug, dumped, sifted, picked up, felt, and finally shoved a handful of sand into her mouth. Whereupon I got this scrunched-up face that said, “This tastes terrible, Mama!” After asking her what would have possessed her to suddenly do this, we rinsed her mouth out with water, and resumed playing. I don’t suspect she’ll be eating sand again in the near future.

Final bit of news…I either didn’t have the same virus the Duckling did or it was a really mild case because after the initial day the symptoms seem to be sporadic and manageable. Fingers crossed.

Well, this was going to be a picture of my smiling Duckling to show you how we start each morning. Unfortunately she was not willing to relinquish Pootie this morning without a fight, so after a diaper change she's back in bed and all's quiet in there. We did have about 7 minutes of screaming and hollering and pointing at the crib (where Pootie lives) before the quiet returned. 

Here's Papa Duck's handiwork on my piggies last night...not bad, not bad at all! Oh, and yes, that blur on the right side would be my ginormous belly in the way... 

Sweetest Husband Ever

Tonight my manly bow-hunting, motorcycle riding, (retired) chew spittin’ Papa Duck made the ultimate sacrifice for me. He painted my toenails. Yup, Fire Engine Red with a top coat of sparklies.

When I’m walking the hallways of the maternity ward I want to be sure that my tootsies are in tip-top condition to showcase my new spangly flip-flops from Target (yes, I am aware that the red will clash a bit with the pink ones, but I also bought a black pair to match my leopard print velour Old Navy jammie pants that I will be sporting post-delivery). I like to leave a lasting inpression on all medical staff whom I come into contact with, just ask my first OB in Austin to whom I would swear that I was low on amniotic fluid ('cause I saw in on Oprah one day, that's why!!!).

Anyway, I suspect more than doing this unbelievably “chick chore” for me, Papa Duck was doing it for Peanut…as in to prolong Peanut’s in utero existence by getting me to avoid bending over.

Anyway, my virus and me are off to bed. Nighty night all.

And The Hits Just Keep on Coming

As if the last two weeks haven't been insane enough, it would appear this morning that after almost obsessive-compulsive hand-washing, the use of a thousand Clorox wipes (which I will be adding to my list of the Best Inventions Since Sliced Bread...to be posted later) and bottles of Bath & Body Works antibacterial handsoap...I have the dreaded rotavirus that the Duckling was battling last week.

I'm watching all the signs, but it kinda looks that way. For those of you who have been through labor before you know how important the hydration factor is, so I'm finally freaking out a little bit.

Let's just hope that Peanut, as Dan said, is a boy and is being super courteous to his Mommy!

And sorry Meritt (to whom I am humming what I understand to be the World's Most Sung Song this morning...wink, wink, nod, nod!) and Mrs. Mates that this is the report out of the Duck Compound this morning and not news of the baby's arrival.

Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr...when will it all end?!?!!?

The good news is the Duckling is pretty much recovered, but now is dying to get outside (I'm not totally sure, but think I heard her say "Target" this morning and she toddled over to me with her tennis shoes and then tried to open the coat closet!).

Reduced Fat Oreos: A Review

So on the second night I got to escape the madness and germ infestation of our house I went grocery shopping. Not my favorite thing to do, but since my family insists on eating (Papa Duck anyway...the Duckling is still working on Kix and Cheerios) it's a necessity from time to time.

Anyway, there in the sale aisle of Cub Foods were Reduced Fat Oreos. Now if I haven't already stated this, some things in life are not meant to be low-fat and no matter what the manufacturers do to mask the taste...they still taste like butt. Salad dressing is a key offender. Fat-free salad dressing is an oxymoron...that's salad dressing's home on the food pyramid, the "Fats" grouping. There are a few low-fat ones that are tolerable, but for the most part, it's gotta be real and you just have to use a small portion so you don't go into cardiac arrest.

The Reduced Fat Oreos kinda freaked me out because on the packaging Nabisco admitted they previously tasted like crap..."New improved flavor." That, my friends, is an admission of guilt, but I picked up a package anyway.

The bottom line...they're really pretty good and there's not much difference taste-wise from the originals. I definitely recommend them because now you can eat twice as many in one sitting and not feel guilty! Enjoy!

Fingers Crossed

Yesterday was a rough one.

The Duckling was stuck in a vicious cycle...drink "water" (flavor-free Pedialyte)......eat something...cry hysterically because Mommy wouldn't give her more food or Pedialyte)...throw up because of being hysterical...repeat cycle... She just wanted to suck down the water like a marathon runner in the Houston heat, but her stomach wasn't accepting it.

I noted last week that deciding to put Lucky to sleep was one of the most painful things I had to do. I can now officially rank that at #2. Number 1 is apparently HAVING to deny your starving child food because too much at once will cause her to throw up again. I cried while she would whine for something to eat. It was gut wrenching. I'm not using "starving" lightly either...for example, her entire diet on Wednesday was about 3 tablespoons of oatmeal, a third of a waffle and four Wheat Thins...all of which went right through her in one direction or another.

This morning our day started at just before 3 AM. She and Papa Duck have been camped out on the floor since then watching every Baby Einstein we own...over and over. She's now sipping water and nibbling Kix. We're keeping our fingers crossed that we're coming into the homestrech.

It's sunny here today and the snow has finally melted. It seems like a good day for the Duckling to start feeling a bit better.

Here's my unsolicited tip to all you Moms of really little ones out there...every now and then slipping your kiddo some juice or Gatorade when they are healthy will make giving them Pedialyte/Gatorade easier when they need it. I THOUGHT I was being a good Mommy by only allowing her to drink water and milk (you know they're healthy, fruit juices are typically loaded with sugar and I didn't want her to get a taste and refuse the healthy stuff), but now we can't give her either per doctor's orders. Water offers no nutrients for replenishment and the milk is irritating to her tummy (we tried lactose-free two days ago and that started the puking over again).

Errrrr...in the third minute he rose again?

When I logged on a few minutes ago Yahoo! news stated that the Pope was dead.

Now it reads "Pope's Condition Worsens."

I'm not sure there's anything worse than dead, but maybe he came back for more?

Or something.

A small reprieve from the nasties on Tuesday...bubbles make everything in the world right again! 

This is how I've been keeping myself entertained...making "healthy" brownies. What?!?! I substituted applesauce for cooking oil, doesn't that count or does the Fudge Supreme frosting kind of cancel that out!? 

The Duckling is just a little tired from all the pooping and puking she's endured...she just passed right out while I was folding laundry. 

Much to Gain...Much to Expel (apparently)

As you can see from the comment left yesterday by “BD” (a/k/a Papa Duck), I am married to a man who knows about financial responsibility. More to the point, he’s an auditor, both at work and at home. He audits. He audits grocery bills, he audits phone calls I make to the pediatric nurse when the Duckling is sick (“Why can’t we give her water?”), he audits everything. Don’t get me wrong, we’re two peas in a pod in this regard for the most part. This frugality on both of our parts allows me to stay home (that and my previous salary wasn’t really going to be worth much after we took into account day care, parking, gas, wear and tear (on the car and our marriage), etc.) and for us to splurge on other more important things (like a car that has ABS, 4WD for idiots and heated seats).

So it should come as no surprise that when he found me picking up Tide one day at Wal-Mart, I was audited.

“Why do we use that one? This one is half as much and I’ll bet it’s just as good,” he comments picking up another brand.

“I like the way Tide smells and I know it works.”

“Look at this one though, it’s a third of the price,” finding an even cheaper competitor, “Try it.”

I did. The brand was something called Sun. It sucked. Bad. Like I’d wash things immediately after they got a stain and they wouldn’t come clean. For whites, this wasn’t much of a problem because most laundry issues can be solved with a few cups of good old chlorine bleach. It leaves my laundry room smelling like a pool too, which reminds me of those “vacation” things we used to go on prior to the Duckling’s arrival.

Anyway, this week I had had it with Sun. The poopie and puke events of the week tested Sun once again and it failed miserably. While on my retreat to Target I picked up some Gain. My SIL uses it, so it has to perform well (I’ve seen her laundry…it’s clean). It’s less than Tide, so that would please Papa Duck.

Well, as I sit here in the computer/laundry room nursery office (yes, it really is all purpose) I have to say…I love the smell of my laundry. You know those commercials where the perfect wives are unrealistically sniffing their laundry and seem to be getting some kind of contact high off of it? That’s what this stuff is like. I want to just go bury my nose in the drying shirts but the fragrance is so eminating I don’t have to…it’s all around me…I love it. And so far, it seems to be efficient at poop and puke removal.
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Duckling Update: We had a really rough night which resulted in a phone call to the pediatrician on duty who, as it turned out, is our new primary care physician as of midnight ("Just wanted to call and let you know we're you're newest patients!!!"). Actually, the doctor was fabulously warm and in good spirits when we woke her up at 4:45 AM...anyway, lots more puking and pooping and crying. She has the rotavirus which takes about 5 days to run its course...we're on Day #4...wish us luck! She's doing lots of sleeping and Mama Duck even broke down and let her keep her Pootie today (which is a HUGE no-no in my book...but she's just miserable and it keeps her from getting herself so worked up she pukes again).