Friday, March 26, 2010

Ugh, golf season

My husband approaches the start of golf season roughly the way that a small child anticipates Christmas. As the winter melts away, he gets increasingly fidgety and starts doing a little golf season dance.

In general, I have nothing against the game of golf. It isn't for me, but I have no problem with the sport itself. However, the fact that, starting sometime in April, my husband disappears for half the weekend any time that I will let him does pose some problems.

I should clarify that my husband is truly great. I am not sure that I would change anything about him if I were starting over and making him from scratch. Okay maybe a couple of things, but they are all petty and things that, deep down, I love him for anyway. Seriously, he is an amazing father. He cleans. He can't cook much, but if I am too tired, he whips up the one thing that he can make without complaint. He encourages me to relax when I can and never complains when I need to take a day to myself.

Enter the warm weather and there is now a mistress to tend to - golf. And this year, she is coming early. What a bitch. So now my doting husband will spend five or six hours of our Saturday and Sunday with his slow-paced and, in my opinion, dull hobby, instead of giving me some much needed assistance.

Selfish, I know. He works hard too. But with regards to this particular issue, I have to say that I don't really care. Ultimately, I'll let him go and just mumble and mope around with the kids until he gets home.

Not until October will I return to my normal, sunny self on the weekends when the chill returns and he has no choice but to hang out with us again. It is one of the few reasons that I appreciate this weird and typically cool climate in which we live.

For now, I have the whole spring and summer ahead of me to gripe. Stupid golf.

Thursday, March 25, 2010

Must... have... more... coffee...

In my years of condensed parenting experience (I say condensed because few people are insane enough to have three children in such quick succession), I have learned that a key ingredient to being the mother of small children is a steady supply of caffeine. Cruelly, Mother Nature dictated that caffeine is one of those things that is bad to have while you are nursing, so the supply must be limited when it is needed most. The first few weeks and months of a new baby are when you need a direct line of caffeine and you just can't have it.

In my case, F was a preemie and nursing is not something that I was able to do, directly that is, after he spent 16 days in the NICU. My nursing came in the form of pumping full-time, which is the most inconvenient way to pass on the nutrients of breastmilk. It wouldn't be so bad if F were my only child. Infants don't do a whole lot, which would leave a lot of time for pumping as much I need to. However, trying to pump with two other children running around and making demands of their own made it nearly impossible. It became a form of entertainment for C who, after observing a session or two, wanted to participate. This was fine when it was just wanting to press the buttons and adjust the strength - even though he did turn up the pump strength to the highest level one day, which almost sucked me into the tube. Towards the end, C was trying to participate by taking the cups and attempting to apply them to his own "boobies" after pulling up his shirt like I did. Bless his little heart. He declared that he was going to "pump the milk for Baby F."

My ability to produce enough milk for F has evaporated, literally, which brings me back to my discussion of caffeine. Now that I am free from the worry that I would make F hyper beyond the ability to sleep, I find myself ready to mainline the stuff. As I type, I am on my fourth cup of the morning. It doesn't seem like a lot, but I have been taking care of the kids, which prevented me from downing the other eight cups that I would have had if I had not been busy.

So, if you plan on having a baby anytime soon, make sure your coffee maker is at the ready (I got a new one to remove any doubt) and start buying the beans in bulk!

Wednesday, March 24, 2010

Visiting the pediatrician

I can remember the first time that I took C to the pediatrician and he had to have a vaccination. There I was with this tiny baby and I had to hold him down while a cruel, unfeeling nurse stabbed my innocent angel with a saber-sized needle. Tears rolling down my cheeks, I couldn't believe that I had to stand by while my baby was in pain and that I was participating.

Flash forward to today when I take F to the pediatrician for his two month checkup. I am ready with a bottle to stick in his mouth when the nurse finishes not one, but two shots. I don't blink as I brace his leg and I am reassuring the nurse that the baby won't hold a grudge and to go ahead and stick the kid.

Who is the cruel, unfeeling one now?

This is one of the many differences between your first kid and your third. With experience comes tolerance and the ability to ignore most things.

Tuesday, March 23, 2010


No less than 10 people have asked me if we are going to have another baby to try for a girl. According to my doctor, my C-Section scar won't be fully healed for another month and I am already fielding family expansion questions. You have got to be kidding me.

At least let me adjust to three babies before I consider the fourth and, no, if I have another baby it is not going to be because I am trying to have a girl. Statistics are not on my side. Look it up.

New addition

Let me give you a short rundown of the situation:

C is 3 1/2
M is 1 1/2
F is 2 months
Husband without whom I certainly could not survive

All boys.
All the time.

Still on maternity leave from my full-time job, things have been somewhat under control so far. F is turning out to be the easiest baby of the bunch. I am fairly confident that any semblance of order will disappear when work comes back into the picture, but I can tackle that later.

Regardless of F's easy nature, I have started to resemble some sort of horror movie creature. I think a cross between a zombie and the Bride of Frankenstein (my hair is unpredictable these days) paints the most accurate portrait. I actually feel bad for my husband who comes home to this monster-wife hybrid after work every day. No amount of concealer is enough to perk up the sallow pallor I have developed after two months on maternity leave during a particularly gross winter.

Still learning how to juggle three kids along with the rest of life. Should be entertaining to follow me as I learn how!