Let me preface this post by saying I absolutely love my big bambino. However, yesterday I was ready to put his @ss back into the womb.
It all began with a dinner invite to celebrate a family friend's 18th birthday. Like I've stated before, if you invite me out, I'm there.
Quickly, I said my prayers for a fabulous night with some great gals and my little dude. I prayed for bliss and sanity and what I got was far from it.
So off the baby and I went (daddy couldn't handle the pressure of two kiddos at bath and bed time). Well I was there 35 minutes later with my big bambino. Upon arriving before the others, my kiddo began to stir. Then out of nowhere, he erupted like Mt. Saint Helens. His voice was like molten lava decaying my ears. So what did I do, I attempted to feed, burp, change, and soothe him.I thought I had the situation under control so I packed my mommy arsenal of supplies into the stroller as best I could and held big baby in my arms as the ladies arrived and politely opened the door for me and my madness. We sat down in this swanky, upscale, Vietnamese restaurant and promptly the bubbling lava once again erupted. So, I hid under the table. Just kidding, I bounced, rocked, fed, and pacified Mr. Volcano while trying to keep his goat-like squeals down to a minimum. Eventually we ordered drinks. I could actually manage to sip my Coke quite well because it had a straw, that was until the server refilled it with Diet Coke. I found myself thinking dark thoughts about kicking him in his knees as I asked him if he was trying to hint to something. For goodness sake, I had a baby six weeks ago, but no I do not want a diet soda!! When dinner arrived, I tryed extremely unsuccessfully to eat with one hand and a fork. This was quite the feat and I was more hungry as I left unsated.The pan seared grouper I ordered wasn't very yummy and became too tepid too fast as I was still trying to handle my baby crisis situation. However, as much as I'd have liked to complain, the restaurant staff was nice enough to ignore my little Beelzebub. Not to mention, the ladies finally offered to hold and rock the kiddo so I could eat. I ate what I could, still extremely unsatisfied as my kiddo continued his verbal assault on them. Oh well, that's life, right? Eventually, I left without a cupcake because I was over the whole "taking my cute baby out for the night on the town" and had moved onto " I just want to get the h e double hockey sticks outta here!" mode. So I loaded up and off I went into the wild yonder....
What started off peacefully as a gurgling became full on explosiveness. The ride had quickly gone to he double hockey sticks in a handbag and I was holding said handbag prisoner in the backseat shackled into his car seat. Boy was he unhappy and his lungs assaulted my ears the entire 35 minute drive home. Upon arriving home, I was ready to throw in the towel on motherhood, so I did what any sane person would do, I dropped the kid into his daddy's arms and closed the bathroom door so I could breathe and stop my ears from ringing. My nerves calmed down even more with this peace and then with a nice ice cream sandwich. Back into my arms, the kiddo was placed so this mommy could rock, coddle, and soothe my hellion. Eventually, 2 hours later, he was snoring like a freight train and in his pack and play.
As I was about to join him in sleepy land with DJ Pillow spinning soft lullabies, the screeching sound of sirens rang out. This was not just a mere one set of sirens, nope, it was at least 20 sirens ablazing with their blue LED lights lighting up my house and neighborhood like a Christmas tree. I jumped up out of bed and peered out my window to see what was going on. It was......a high speed chase. Literally before my eyes, a car was followed by the cops at speeds to high for your average driver, blockaded, and forced to stop in front of my home. Out jumped two suspects who tried unsuccessfully to flee on foot. They were apprehended and I was finally ready to sleep, but adrenaline pumping, sleep evaded me. Finally, my eyes closed as I drifted to sleep to wake up quite a few times with a disgruntled kiddo.
This morning, I decided, enough is enough. I called the pediatrician's office to schedule an appointment for my demon child. The angelic voice on the other end informed me that there were no appointments available until mid February. "February," I mimicked in a not-so-splendid voice. Yuppers, that was it. So I talked to the friendly nurse (who I've bribed with candy) and told her that I will walk in tomorrow extra early so we don't have to wait in the germ-infested waiting room with the snotty nosed kids and screamers (like my own son). She's going to keep an eye out for us so we can get to the bottom of the guessing game....Is it reflux or not that makes my child scream, arch his back, spit up his boob juice, and rip farts like atomic bombs. Stay tuned if you want to know the answer to that question and much much more........................
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