Paranoia and Unemployment

Harrison's 7 month birthday is nearing rapidly, and I find myself thinking, I can't believe he is already 7 months old.

This is NOT a boobie. YOU CAN'T FOOL ME. 

This happens every time he gains a month of age. I can't decide if my time with him has flown by and 7 months seems like an outrageous amount of time to have passed, or if he is so demanding and my days are so long that it feels more like 14 months. I think the former. When I factor in that some 7 month old babies are crawling, it seems crazy to me that he could crawl any day now, yet it feels like just yesterday that he was 5lbs, sleeping on our chests, and vomiting every 3 minutes. Oh, how I miss those days... yes, even the puke.

My little nug

Please cuddle with me again, Harrison. Please. 

Speaking of motherhood, lately I've been a little paranoid. Wait, no, I'm always paranoid, but lately just more than usual. My paranoia comes from the conclusion that I think I talk way too much about the babe. I probably say "Harrison" 48329048 times a day, to multiple people. When Dave gets home from work, I'm instantly bombarding him with stories and concerns about how Harrison's day went. I ask my mom at least one parenting question a day. Even when I visited Geneseo a few weekends ago, I was showing ANYONE that mentioned the baby like minimum 10 pictures of him and agreeing when they said how cute he is.

Yes, cute is the right word.

The reason this concerns me, is that pre-baby, I always swore that I would not become one of those kid-obsessed mothers. Like those annoying women that bring their baby into every conversation, when exactly no one cares. There's nothing wrong with being obsessed with your own children, only as long as you know that other people are not. So, in realizing that I am being a complete hypocrite, as I have an entire blog devoted to talking about my child, I will make a more conscious effort to discuss other topics.

A few things I have noticed about unemployment:

It becomes harder and harder to motivate yourself to do anything other than sit on your ass.

There are days when I know I need to clean multiple rooms, the mess is driving me crazy, I really should go grocery shopping, if it's nice out I should go for a walk, etc etc... but rarely these things ever happen. In my defense, the down time that I do have to accomplish these things is limited, and I need to use it to blog, but making excuses is what got me into this funk in the first place.

I should be more conservative with my money, but I'm not.

Actually, that is kind of false. I need to alter it to: I should be more conservative at Wegmans. I'm actually a lot better about my spending in every other outlet than the Grocery Store of the Gods. Anyone who shops at Wegmans, knows that their food items are addicting, and nearly impossible to resist. What doesn't help my pocketbook is the fact that I am ravenous due to the breastfeeding, so I consume all of the groceries I buy within 2 days. The blame here is on Harrison, not me. But either way, our spending at Wegmans specifically is a little outrageous and I need to go to rehab to curb this.

My life revolves around my shows.

I start the day with the Today show, followed by Kelly and Michael, and then back to the Today show. In the afternoons, I usually switch between whatever reruns of Housewives that Bravo is showing, and Sex in the City. My primetime shows are getting a little out of hand, but include: Biggest Loser, The Walking Dead, Smash, Housewives, and Glee.

My life

I need a new hobby, obviously. And if that didn't just make me sound pathetic, I don't know what would.

What I've gathered from this little unemployment segment is that I'm not actually unemployed. I am employed... by the Harrison Corp.

What shows do you watch religiously?

Hiatus Over

As many of you already know, my Gram passed away last Saturday, which explains my blogging hiatus. I've honestly been afraid to write this post, because for one- I feel like I'm not the best at conveying my feelings through writing (which is where my sister comes in), and two, I almost thought that writing about it would finally make it feel real. I'm sure all of you have lost a loved one, so I don't need to explain how hard it is, but this was my hardest goodbye yet. So instead of taking this in a sad direction, I would like to remember my Gram in the best light possible, for all of the ways she made me a better person.

She taught me many life skills, including how to sew, how to make a bean bag, and how to make a BOMB cucumber sandwich. I get a lot of my best qualities from her, like my love and affinity for shopping, my love of dogs, my excellence at being a ham in front of the camera. She had a great sense of humor and was ALWAYS making me laugh, which I hope I am emulating in this blog (but who knows, I probably just think I'm funny). And then there's just the little quirks of hers that I'll always remember, because they've been passed onto me; she refused to drink a cold beverage unless it had an equal ratio of ice to liquid, she always made sure her hair was beautifully styled (she was putting curlers in her hair even in her eighties, and made regular trips to the beauty salon at the nursing home), and seafood was quite possibly her favorite food group.

I think what I'll remember most though (and a warning, this is where it gets sappy), is how much she loved Harrison. I will never forget what she said to me when I told her I was pregnant- "You know Darcy, there's a thing called birth control". That was classic Gram right there.

Right after she said that, actually

She said from the beginning how much she wanted me to have a little boy, and that's exactly what she got. Harrison brought her so much joy in her last months, and for that, I don't think I can even express how lucky I feel that I was able to give her that. Her only goal during Bingo games was to win a toy for Harrison, and now he has a whole collection of stuffed animals that I'll be able to tell him, when he gets a little older, were from his great-Gram. I'll never be able to truly explain to him how much she loved him, and he'll never remember her, but even so, it means the world to me that her little Harrison was what kept her going for those last 6 months.

But enough of that, because I'm getting too emotional, and I only have so much time to write this post before the babe wakes up. Just wanted to attempt to do Gram's life a little justice, because it was a great one, and we will all miss her more than words can say.

As per usual, I have to write a little about Harrison's status. While we were in Pennsylvania for Gram's funeral, Harrison got to go swimming for the first time!

I flick you off, cameraman. 

He loved it, and got so tired out that he took a rare 2 hour nap, which I loved.

We got back from PA late Saturday night, and when he woke up for his nighttime feeding, barely able to breathe without sounding like Quasimodo, I knew he had a bad cold. His first one though, which is pretty good considering he's almost 7 months old. I wanted to cry for him. His nose was constantly running all day Sunday, and he was literally rubbing his snot ALL over his face, like in his eyes and everything. To top things off, I was trying to cut his nails this morning, and cut his thumbnail too short, so he was bleeding all over (the second time I've done this THIS WEEK. Worst Mommy award goes to me).

This post is getting a little bit on the long side, so to wrap it up, I just want to say how grateful I am for all of the support I've had from family and friends during this hard time. I was lucky enough to be with two of my girlfriends when I heard the news, and really, is there anything better than your girlfriends to cheer you up?

Favorite Ingredient

I know I complain about Harrison's sleeping habits a LOT, but there is one thing I love about his sleep: his bedtime. We used to try to keep him up pretty late thinking it would help him sleep for longer stretches, but as I've explained before, this is false. So when we nixed that, and realized he was getting REALLY tired around 7pm, like as in could barely keep his eyes open come 7:05, we were sold.

The 7pm bedtime is pretty glorious, and it allows us many freedoms and normalcies, like:

Eating dinner.

I wouldn't call what I was doing before "eating dinner". I mean, in actuality, that's what I was doing, but if you had caught a glimpse of it, it was more like wolfing down food like an unsocialized, starved neanderthal. When the revelation of the 7pm bedtime came, so did the revelation of eating dinner after he went to bed, so that we could, 1. eat together, 2. actually eat a pace where our taste buds could register the food, and 3. enjoy it.

All of your dinners made my legs explode with cellulite, thanks.

Having a babysitter.

It's a lot easier to convince people to come "babysit" when babysitting entails watching TV on the couch while casually listening for the baby monitor, that probably won't even go off. Even if our potential babysitters wanted to come watch Harrison in his waking hours, it's pretty much impossible for now, because he refuses to let anyone besides Dave or I feed him his cereal. I refuse to let him skip his evening meal of mush, in fear that he will wake up starving earlier than I'm prepared for, and be pissed that he disrupted my restless sleep even more. Therefore, our babysitters are on duty from 7 on. This should really be called "housesitting" rather than "babysitting".

That's what you think...

Going out.

I just have to make it known that I am a much more sane, enjoyable person now that I can go hang out with other sane, enjoyable adults. Monday night, I was able to put Harrison to bed, then immediately drive to Rochester to meet some of my lady friends for dinner. That is the best of both worlds I'd say.

Last night, I made a copycat version of the Olive Garden zuppa toscana soup, in the crockpot I might add, so it was easy and delicious and amazing.

Yup

During the cooking (aka throwing ingredients in the pot and turning it on), I discovered the secret of good cooking. I will reveal it to you because I'm that nice:

Salt.

I loaded up the pot with a lot, and I mean a LOT, of salt, but then because that wasn't enough, when it was done cooking, added in some of the Wegmans Garlic Salt for good measure. This was enough.

This sums it up

We also had an appetizer of bacon, so all in all, a meal made for kings. We discussed the fact that looming in our futures, will be the day when our doctors tell us to cut down on the sodium intake. This will be a sad, sad, day.

As inspired by my sister, this also happened last night:

Half Shamrock, Half Chocolate, Half Amazing

Are you a salt addict? Please say yes so that I'm not alone.

Shots Shots Shots... Everybody!

Harrison had his 6 month well visit this morning. Going into it, I was extremely nervous. He had to get three shots, and thats the most he's had to get in one sitting. As Harrison likes to prove me wrong in life, I figured he would be a crying, hot mess and then cranky for the remainder of the day. He was such a trooper though! He cried for about a minute, then settled right into his carseat, with his pacifier and his bear, and basically passed out as soon as I turned the car on. When I got him home, he was laughing and playing like usual, which is probably more than I can say for myself if I had to get three shots in my legs. Especially the little chicken legs that he has.

I can handle it,  I'm a grown ass man. 

However, I should have known he would be a champ at shots because once upon a time, I was also a champ at shots (the liquid, alcoholic variety) and the song, Shots by LMFAO was my life anthem.

Speaking of chicken legs, a few of the other tidbits I gathered from the visit:

• He is in the 66th percentile for his height, and the 26th for his weight. Meaning he is a tall, gangly baby. Fat babies are so adorable, and squishy, but the more I think about it, the more I am glad that he is a not a chunker. With how much I hold him and carry him around, I'll take the 26th percentile.
• I am screwed on the sleeping front. I asked the doctor for recommendations about how to help Harrison sleep through the night (or at least wake up 1-2 times instead of 6), and how to help his napping abilities, and there really is no help. The only way to get him to wake less during the night is to wean him early from his pacifier and that sounds like pure hell. Although, it really can't get much worse than it is now.
• He has beautiful skin (the doctor's words, not mine, but I couldn't agree more).

I did a side-by-side comparison of Harrison's 1 month and 6 month photos and the results will shock you:

Ok, so maybe not as mind blowing as I like to think it is, because all 1 month old babies basically look like aliens, but I do love to admire the fruits of my labor (aka breastfeeding). 

I had a really uneventful weekend, so sorry for boring you all with details of Harrison's health, and nothing else. 

Snow makes me cranky

Today, with the blizzard coming, I didn't have much planned. I knew I had to get to Wegmans sooner than later, so that we would not starve being snowed in for days. I thought I would be ok to let Harrison take his first nap, and head out afterwards. Um, wrong. The snow is coming down so hard right now, I'm nervous to even drive up the road 2 minutes to reach my destination. I don't think I have a choice, because we all have to eat. This is why I hate the snow, and why I hate anyone that enjoys the snow. I don't think I get more infuriated then when I see tweets and statuses about "yay it's snowing!" Go eff yourself.

I hear ya, kitty

So if the snow didn't make this Friday suck so hard, Fridays are already a cock tease. Now that tax season is upon us, Dave has to work Saturdays, so Fridays just feel like a second Thursday, and that feeling blows. The weekend doesn't start until Saturday at like 3:30, and when the weekend is only one day long, it's quite the bummer. I know I can't really complain, because I'm not the one of us who actually has to go to work, but I can still whine. I do love a good whine.

The only thing that makes our lives more exciting around here is our newest addition to the fam: our deep fryer. Best purchase ever. Dave made some scrumptious homemade wings for the Superbowl, and ever since, we have been scheduling the next fried food to try. Fried food is the best, and anyone that disagrees can leave this blog now. Tomorrow night's dinner will be our second foray with the fryer- chimichangas. Following closely on the menu are fried pickles, french fries, and Dave's request: fried bacon. I don't know if fried bacon is a possibility, but I sure hope it is, because if that doesn't sound like heaven then I don't know what does.

Trust me mom, you don't need the fried bacon

I know just yesterday I posted about my excitement over Harrison's new teeth (yes, two), but that excitement ended quickly, due to the fact that last night, he woke up at least once an hour, and sometimes multiple times within the hour. I lost count of how many times he actually woke up, but without exaggerating, it was close to ten. Don't they say you can't get a restful sleep unless you reach the phases of deep sleep? Because I'm pretty sure neither Harrison nor I were able to achieve that last night.

I'm innocent!

To make matters worse, I was told again that I must give up caffeine. I know I discuss this issue more than any other, so I hope this gives you an idea of how serious this is to me.

Are you seriously going on about the caffeine again?

Caffeine is life, so if you want me to give it up, plan on me not being able to continue living. That sounds dramatic, I know, because I'm sure plenty of people live very productive lives without caffeine  but those people are crazy and I can't be friends with them.

Monday is Harrison's 6 month well visit, and you better believe I am asking our pediatrician the true status of the caffeine issue, and voice recording her telling me that one cup a day is fine.

Motherhood changes you

Exciting news (for me at least): Harrison got his first tooth! You are probably envisioning a full fledged tooth standing alone in his mouth, but no, its the most minuscule little nub that you really can't even see with the naked eye. The only reason I know it's there is that I felt his gums, and a sharp object was poking me. It counts. I even put the "1st Tooth" sticker in the baby calendar already.

While we are on the subject of how things have become exciting for me that I never, ever, thought I would even give a shit about, I have come to realize how drastically having a baby changes you. I mean, obviously, when you grow another human in the innards of your own body, you will undergo some changes, but I feel like my changes are more emotional than physical.

1. I am obsessed with babies. ALL babies.

Think I'm heartless if you will, but before I got pregnant with Harrison, I really had no desire to see babies, be around babies, or interact with babies. I feel like this stemmed more from fear than anything, as I really had almost no encounters with babies in my life, with the exception of the time my friend had twins and I fed one a bottle... once. When I would hear my friends gush over babies, I would be like, yeah.. no thanks. This even brimmed on the extent of me not especially wanting children of my own.

Then Incident X happened, and I was stuck. Now, I'm obviously obsessed with my own child, but what I never thought would overcome me- a love for all babies, has. Like yesterday for example, Ray Rice was on Kelly and Michael, and they showed a picture of his little 1 year old daughter. Although I was INFURIATED by the fact that he named her RAYven, I could not peel my eyes away from the screen because I was dying of cuteness.

You can't tell me this doesn't melt your heart

This even happens to me upon seeing the ugliest of babies. Sometimes, I feel like I love those ones more. Is that weird?

Even if Harrison looked like this, I would still love him

2. I want like a million of my own.

I have my hands pretty full with Harrison, but what mother doesn't have her hands full? Especially those with more than one child. So, I can't really complain. But even though I feel completely overwhelmed as a first time mother, and sometimes think maybe I'll never get the hang of it, I am finding myself wanting like 30 kids. Ok, more like 4. Minimum. Since we can't even afford the one we have now, I don't think this will actually happen, but I'm allowed to fantasize.

I really just want more babies for two reasons: one, is so I can breastfeed them. I'm obsessed. Oxytocin is an addictive drug so it is not my fault. I know I complained a lot about breastfeeding in the past, but now that I've gotten a hold on it, I think it is god's gift to women. The second reason is that Harrison won't cuddle me, and I will need to reproduce until one comes out a cuddler.

Please get away from me

This may sound like a joke, but it is not. I have heard myths of babies cuddling their mothers, and I will continue to think of this as a myth until one of my own proves it true.

3. I can cry at the drop of a dime.

Before motherhood, I would cry, like all women do, at sad movies like Armageddon or Stepmom. It has now reached pathetic levels though. Seeing Jennifer Hudson sing at the Superbowl with the Sandy Hook choir- done. Watching Biggest Loser when they tell the sad personal stories of the contestants- instantaneous. Talking about how much I love Harrison to my bff- it's over. I'm going to blame this on the higher than normal level of hormones raging through my body. Really though, I don't expect this to let up at all as Harrison gets older. I'm doomed.

You're an embarrassment 

Weekend Ragings

I had a pretty raging weekend (for me), and am really proud of myself.

Friday night was the standard pizza night, with a twist, because it was Dave and his brother's birthday. They had a gift exchange, we had cake, and we were in bed before 10pm. Obviously, this does not count towards the raging.

This is my definition of excitement

Saturday, Dave's brother was nice enough to babysit so that we could go out to dinner to celebrate Dave's birth. We had heard of this amazing band, Something Else, that all of our friends love, but we had never seen play. Luckily enough, they were playing in Brockport Saturday night, so that was that. We went to dinner, then made a pit stop at our friends' apartment for a little beer pong, as per my request. I feel saddened that my life now presents very few opportunities to play beer pong, so I was pretty much in my glory. We finally made it to the bar where the band was playing by 11, and almost immediately I fell in love. They were one of those cover bands that knows every song, and all the best songs. Needless to say, I let it loose on the dance floor.

Incase you wanted to see what I look like while breaking it down. To Single Ladies, how appropriate.

Prior to going out, I was nervous about staying up so late. Yes, midnight is extremely late for me. However, when midnight rolled around and I was still dancing away, I realized I did not want to leave, and requested our babysitter stay an extra half hour. I know, I'm a daredevil. I know my life is really challenging, because the challenge of staying out til 12:30 presented itself, and I succeeded with flying colors.

Consuming about 3.5 beers over the course of 4 hours had me passed out the second my head hit the pillow, but what really amazed me, was how hungover I felt the next morning. Back in the day, I almost never got hungover, and let's just say I drank way more than 3.5 beers in a night. So although my drinking abilities are pathetic, I was still able to get my shit together and prepare for our Superbowl Party.

Didn't have room the for S, but you get the picture

I don't have much to comment on about the Superbowl, but what I will say is that Harrison performed a miracle. He got woken up about 10 minutes before halftime, and was pretty upset. He was screaming so hard, I for sure thought I would have to stay with him and miss Beyonce. I gave him one last pat before she went on, and then in my hypnosis by her performance, completely forgot about him, and ran to check on him quickly. He was magically asleep  He put himself to sleep so that mommy could watch Sasha Fierce. What a guy.

I'm the best, I know this

And also, the blackout gave me the perfect opportunity to pump without missing any of the game. Thank you, Superdome.

Lastly, GO RAVENS.