Baby One More Time

March 9, 2016

Dear Baby,

In the past 3 days since I last reported that you were getting better, you got sick again. It’s crazy because if I had a .2 fever I probably wouldn’t even know. When we saw that you did, we went into full panic mode. We packed you up, bundled you tight and went to the doctor for the THIRD TIME IN 5 DAYS!!!

The good news is that you are fine. You just had a lingering cold. The bad news is that you have this stupid lingering cold. 

Have you ever sucked out the snot from another person’s nose? It’s so gross/ on par amazing with popping a pimple. You don’t want to do it, you almost barf doing it and then you can’t stop thinking about what happened when you did it. Snot is the same. Slightly less satisfying. 

Anyways if I haven’t been clear, baby colds are the worst. 

Anyways, by round 3 of our doctor visit I was starting to feel like a really typical overreacting first time parent. Like, am I going to be that person who rushed you to seek medical attention every time you sneeze? Maybe. Especially if your super hypochondriact dad has any say but I have to embrace the crazy, don’t I?

My feeling is this. If 2 people look at you and one thinks you need a doctor, we go. There’s just no fucking around with your physical health or otherwise. 

And that, Baby, brings me to today’s thoughts. You can never be too careful and you must always be your own best advocate. Here’s the thing- after you grow up and can make your own decisions you will be responsible for your own care. You will have to advocate for how you feel and what you need. 

I want to make sure you never feel embarrassed or apprehensive about double or even triple checking something that you are not sure about. There is just no suck thing as too cautious when it comes to taking care of you. For now, since you can’t talk and 100% of your care is on our hands, we will be over cautious for you but soon enough, that will be your weight to carry. 

So know yourself, love yourself and don’t ever hesitate to ask again and again if something doesn’t feel right to you. There are no stupid questions and no restrictions to seeking help for anything you need. 

In the meantime, Baby get better or prepare to feel the suction of your nose sucky thing again this afternoon. 



Baby One More Time

Little Baby Drama

March 6, 2016

Dear Baby,

So I’m happy to say that your first cold is wrapping itself up (poo poo poo). It was a long week and you were such a trooper. On the other hand my cold has gotten a bit worse but as usual no one really cares about me. I don’t even really care about me as long as you are feeling good. 

At the lowest low we took you to the doctor. It’s a weird thing because on the one hand, my mother intuition assured me that it was just a cold but on the other hand, what if it was more? I couldn’t handle the thought of you being super sick and me being dismissive (plus your dad is a full blown hypochondriac) so off we went. 

Of course, it was just a cold but we had to weigh you while we were there and Baby, you are so tiny! You weighed 10 pounds with your clothes on. You are almost 6 months old and you weigh as much as most baby’s do in their first month of life. 

I know babies that were born at close to 10 pounds and here you are, the tiniest peanut. You look like a very alert and capable newborn. 

To be honest, it has never bothered me. Sure, I have to hear “she’s so small” from literally everyone we meet but whatever. I’m weak so that you are small works well with lifting you. I find it adorable that you are so petit and we have actually made the best use of baby clothes in the history of mankind. 

You are still rocking some newborn size gear. That’s 5.5 months of wear. Unheard of. Mind you, it will be a while before you fit into all that 6 month and up clothing that you have but it can just wait. 

So anyways, you get weighed and put on your growth chart and we find that you are a pound off from where you should be (in the whopping 3rd percentile category). Doctor says you should def gain a pound this month or she will refer us to a specialist to make sure you are ok. 

The tests you would go through are labeled “failure to thrive.” Please be more fucking ominous. 

She recommended feeding you more and possibly supplementing you with some formula. 

Here are the two things I have been thinking. 

1. Failure to thrive has to be the worst fucking name for a series of tests ever. Plus, how can you be failing to thrive? You have (thankfully) done everything a baby should do just in your own tiny way. 

They really have to think about the names of these tests. Like, way to fear monger. How about “tests to make sure your baby is absorbing her nutrients” or “tests to ensure that your baby’s gastro system is ok” or “tests to confirm that she is in fact just a small baby.”

Fuck you, failure to thrive. 

2. Formula is a really touchy subject for a mom who has spent 5.5 months agonizing over breast feeding. I personally don’t give a shit how you feed your babe. It’s all the same to me. I was formula fed and ended up just fine. BUT. I have spent too much fucking time and effort on breastfeeding to be told that I am not doing a good enough job. Literal blood sweat and tears. Listen, at the end of the day Baby, I do what is best for you but I’ll be damned if I don’t find the suggestion to be a personal attack. 

Plus, the day I finally decided to try formula for you I went to Whole Foods. They carry one formula and one formula only. I felt like the organic hemp mama society was shaming me for even considering formula by having such sparse availability. Dramatic? Yes. True? Probs not. Didn’t buy the formula? Obviously. 

So here’s the lesson today. Don’t go to the doctor when you are sick. JUST KIDDING. PLEASE DONT DO THAT. 

The lesson is that things sometimes don’t go as planned. You can make a million plans and calculate every move but life has a funny way of just dumping a load of formula on your lap no matter what you do. 

So be flexible and know that there are 100 great ways to achieve any great goal and trying new things and different paths is sometimes great (even if you fucking slave at making the first thing work and totally sacrifice your boobs forever). 

So in he words of Seymore when he bled for his precious plant, “please, grow for me.”



Little Baby Drama

Poor Sick Baby pt. 2

March 3, 2016

Dear Baby,

So you woke up this morning still sick coupling your crazy snot nose with a wicked cough. It’s honestly hard to believe that you have that much shit in your face. Your face is the size of a pea and I’m pretty sure you have snotted out 10 peas worth of boogers. 

It’s basically impossible to be a germaphobe when you have a sick baby. You sneeze, cough and spit on my face every 2 seconds and everything you touch gets gooey. You remind me of Slimer from Ghostbusters. Actually, that’s a perfect comparison. You look and act exactly like Slimer. 

Who you gonna call…. booger busters (aka your mom who is still also sick but doesn’t go ahead and sneeze in your mouth- it’s called manners, Baby). 

It’s really hard having you feeling sick. It’s hard to watch your poor little face slightly swollen from your tearing eyes and snotty nose (Slimer), it’s hard to listen to your laboured snotty breathing and wet cough (Slimer), and it’s hard to see you exhausted and trying to sleep but failing because you can’t breath properly.

It’s so hard in fact that it brought up the first fight your dad and I have had in a long time. 

Last night after being put to bed you woke up about 2 hours later crying and snotting. We came up to get you, suck up your boogers and nurse you back to sleep (fuck you, baby books- I do what I want). An hour later I was still rocking you and trying to help you fall back asleep. 

On the one hand, I would rock you forever if it would help you feel more comfortable. On the other hand, after an hour of it with the music of you crying and snorting at me- I was spent. I hate that moment with you when I feel my patience dwindling. It annoys me that I can’t be a more calm and collected person. 

When I lose patience I have to remind myself that you are a helpless little baby and not a SMALL DEMON CHILD SENT HERE TO DESTROY ME. 

In another world this would be the point that I would take a deep breath and check myself. I would look down at you and be reminded that there is nothing to be annoyed about and that another hour or several hours of rocking you is totally fine/ worth it. 

In this world it is in this moment that your dad ALWAYS decides to come in. I’m on the cusp of a reset and I see the door slowly opening and I know that I am going to just fucking kill him. 

In he came last night and it went something like this:

He asks me if you are ok. I don’t fucking know because I am just a frazzled mom but I tell him that I think you are ok and you just need to sleep. I lament that I really don’t want to have a night where I wake up with you crying every hour and he says “but we are doing it for her” (her being you, Baby). 



I fucking hate this response. Who else would I be waking up for? Who else would I spend 2 days at home nonstop holding? Who else would I miss eating, sleeping and bathroom ing for? 

In saying this he is shaming me. Like, reminding me that I can’t complain at all because I should be a better person/ mother than one who bitches about waking up in the middle of the night for her poor sick baby. 

I would never sleep again for you. I would literally do anything for you but I’ll be damned if I have to enjoy it. Who would? Name me one person who would be all like “YES! I love waking up in the middle of the night to go and nurse/ attend to my sick kid.” Offer me a sundae and pony rides and I still wouldn’t want to wake up. 

Anyways, this interaction obviously resulted in me telling him to get the fuck out which is NEVER what you should say to someone you love (or anyone) and him doing as I requested. This was kind of a “cut off your nose to spite your face” moment because then I was left alone with you crying again. 

He ended up coming back to our rescue (because he is an awesome man and father), you fell asleep and after all that- stayed asleep for the rest of the night. 

You woke up like a little goopy angel and now here we are- you asleep on me and me venting to the blog-o-sphere (woah, blog-o-sphere. Lame, mom). 

What’s the lesson we can learn from this? There must be something valuable here today for me to impart on you. 



Take care of yourself because being sick SUCKS. Seriously, take heed when I tell you to wear a scarf or put on a jacket or some other shit like that. You’ll be all like, whatever mom a jacket makes my super sweet crop top look fucking stupid and I’ll be all like, crop tops are fucking stupid (slash so awesome and I wish I could still wear them- but by then I’ll be more crotchety about fashion). And you’ll storm out of the house in your crop top sans jacket and come home with a cold and we’ll be back to this. 

And as much as I love taking care of you I love being with a fully happy and healthy you even more. 

So just wear your jacket, ok? And always drink water and don’t touch subway poles and wash your hands before you eat and don’t kiss sick people and take a vitamin. 




Poor Sick Baby pt. 2

Poor Sick Baby

March 2, 2016

Dear Baby,

It’s MARCH!!! Spring is just around the corner and I can all but feel the warm weather coming our way. You get to play in a park so soon- you have no idea how awesome that will be. But for now, there is 25cm of snow outside the door and the ups and downs in temperature (hello to our 10 degree Sunday) have had the inevitable effect of making everyone and their mothers totally sick.

We went to play groups and music classes all last week with your snot- faced friends and it was only a matter of time before you, Ms. I-stick-everything-in-my-mouth caught what they had.

So when you started sneezing more than usual and looking overall droopy and tired, I knew we had entered the realm of the dreaded first cold.

So far, it has been pretty hard- for me. You don’t even seem to really know what is going on and have been smiling and playing as usual. I have been dying inside every time you cough or sneeze or tear or even look a tiny bit uncomfortable. Basically, if you blink in a way that I feel is not normal right now, I feel like crying. It’s a bit overbearing- I know.

In the meantime, I am sick too and your dad is sick three and in order of importance I rank you, then you and you. I would be sick for days if you could be better immediatly- and I HATE being sick.

In the long laundry list of horrors that come with you being sick I am remiss to include; 

1. A rectal temperature. It’s exactly what it sounds like. I’m sorry. It’s happened to the best us and to my knowledge, no permanent mental scaring comes from it.

2. The snot suck thing. Yes, Baby I have actually stuck a tube into your nose and sucked the snot out so you could breath easier. Remember that fact when you have an urge to tell me to fuck off one time- k?

3. Choking you with infant Tylenol. Dear Tylenol instructions- how does one “gently” shoot a syringe full of liquid? It shoots but there is nothing gentle about it. So sorry about that too. 

4. The goo. Babes, I must tell you that you have liquid coming out of all parts of your face. It’s a gooey mess and instead of thanking me each time I wipe it up, you scream. If I didn’t know better I would assume you like being covered in mucus. 

5. No put downs. Not a one. No sir. You have been on me all day. ALL DAY. this includes bathroom breaks, naps and everything in between. I’m still not wearing a bra and it’s past 3pm. 

But, like I said, I would do anything o make you feel better so all of the above mentioned things don’t seem like such a big deal to me. They are just gross.  

Here is the takeaway- be nice to your mom, Baby. Take care of me when I am old and gross because I took care of you when you were young and gross. You have peed on me twice today and I still love you unconditionally so extend me the same love (slash I hope I never pee myself in old age).

Sending you all the healthy vibes I can while you sleep on me again (whatever, I fucking LOVE it- the cuddles and sleeping, not the cold obviously).



Poor Sick Baby