Maybe You Can Explain To Me...

How a four-month-old can create more laundry than 2 adults.

How a baby can sleep through day-to-day noises such as a ringing phone, vacuum cleaner, and dog barking, but will awaken and cry out once Mom sits down to eat a meal.

Why no one ever tells you that baby dookie can be green, projectiled, and/or smell bad enough to make the dog run into the other room and rub his nose in the carpet for several minutes.

How a baby can fall asleep at 6pm, and sleep until 6am the following morning, and the diaper manages to hold the resulting backlog. No leaks. Impossible, you say? I call it a miracle.

How a baby can have 300 teething rings lying around the house, but still prefers to knaw on your hand or fingers to alleviate teething pains.

How a baby can poop on you, spit up on you, knaw on you, and head butt you (gaining control of those neck muscles is a tricky business), and yet you're still glad to see the little tyrant every morning.

If you know the answers, please let me know. You are waaaay smarter than I am.

I Get It

Many years ago, in a galaxy far, far away, when I was a teenager, my mother and I used to get into many arguments. Mostly they were about the fact that I wasn't allowed to do anything, and that she didn't trust me enough to let me go wherever I wanted with whomever I wanted whenever I wanted. In short, I thought she was extremely unreasonable. When I expressed my displeasure with her, and asked her why she was being so difficult, she would look at me with a weird expression, then say quietly, "You'll see. One day you'll be a parent, and you'll know why."

Well, after many years and 1 daughter later, I will say the words my mother has been longing to hear me say: I get it. I now understand.

I understand the overwhelming and complete love you feel for your child. You will do anything for her. The first time you hold her tiny hand and look into her trusting eyes, your primal instinct to protect and nurture her completely overwhelms you. You are now responsible for this tiny being, and it is a terrifying and humbling thought.

I understand the gut-wrenching, paralyzing fear. The fear that she will stop breathing in the middle of the night. That masked ninja terrorists will break into her nursery and steal her away. That she will be diagnosed with some horrible illness, and I will be powerless to make her better. It's a fear that never, never goes away.

I understand the primal urge to protect her. Everyone and everything is now a threat (real or imagined makes no difference). It's not that you don't want her to enjoy things and experience life. It's just that you have seen what people can sometimes do, and you vow to do whatever is necessary to keep those threats at bay. No threat is too small. You rely much more on your mom radar - and if someone doesn't "feel" right, if you have a "sense" about someone that you don't like, you follow it. When you're a parent, there is no such thing as a "bad" gut-feeling. You don't take chances with your child - ever.

And so, many years from now, when my daughter and I are arguing about her "freedom", about why I'm so insistant on meeting all her friends, and knowing where she's going and when she's coming home, I'm sure I'll be saying "One day, you'll see." And just like I did all those years ago, I'm sure she'll roll her eyes, sigh, and say, "Whatever."

And many years after that fateful day, she'll be writing her own "I Get It" blog. And revenge will be mine.

Guitar Hero Saga

As most of you know, my husband is a HUGE gamer. He's got every console (Playstation, XBox, Wii, etc.), and he's in the process of upgrading parts to his PC to better handle the newer games coming out during the holidays.

On a regular basis I am treated to a play by play narration on his latest gaming experience, the newest games coming out, or the latest and greatest upgrades for his various consoles.

Generally, I don't mind any of this. Games are his passion, and he has the right to enjoy them.

The problem is that he is constantly trying to convert me into being a big gamer, too. Now, I do play games, but most of the ones I play are adventure/hidden object/mysteries, etc. Basically, the low grade games that don't require a lot from my computer, or a lot of time from me.

Once Guitar Hero came out, he started lobbying for us to get it, so we would have something to play together. I took one look, and said no. I had no intention of spending any of my time trying to be a rock star. Let the teenagers have it, I said. I wanted no part of it.

Well, Big Dave kept up his campaign for months. He eventually bought one for his game room, where it has sat mostly untouched. I kept up my resistance, more as a matter of principle than anything else.

About a week ago we were at Walmart, as Big Dave was on the hunt for a PC game. I stayed in the car with Kaylee while he went inside. When he came out of the store, though, the box he carried was WAY larger than any PC game. He strolled up to the van with a big smile on his face. He opened the door and showed me the box, proudly proclaiming, "I bought something for you! I saw it and I automatically thought of you!"

It was the Guitar Hero set for the Wii, complete with guitar and game.

I was speechless. He bought it for me? Has he not been listening to me at ALL during the last few months? Did he think for some reason my continuous NO! really meant Yes?

I waited for him to explain.

"They were on sale - only $20 for the whole box! I thought what better time to get you to try it than now, when it was so cheap! I think once you try it, you'll like it."

Again, I was speechless. I knew perfectly well he didn't get it for me. He got it because (A) it WAS so cheap,and (B) he really likes playing things on the Wii.

But in the interest of marital harmony, I said no more. I agreed to try the game once, and if I didn't like it, for any reason, the matter would finally be put to rest. No more bothering me about trying the stupid game.

Once home, we set it up, and Big Dave handed me the guitar. He started me off on easy mode, and I chose three songs.

By the end of those three songs, I was hooked. Damn that game.

I can't get the songs out of my head, and I find myself trying to practice my guitar finger moves on flat surfaces like the dining room table. Damn that man.

Now my husband has been gloating (albeit quietly) around the house, singing the familiar phrase of "I told you so". Fortunately, he is too nice of a person to gloat too long or too much. But it's gloating nonetheless.

Fortunately, I know when to take my lumps when necessary. I've let him gloat, for now.

But the next time we go head to head on Guitar Hero, I plan on wiping the floor with him.

My Life So Far

Editors Note: The Innocent Bystander is taking the week off from blogging. Her daughter will be filling in for her.

Hello Everyone.

My name is Kaylee Savannah. I've only been in this world for a little over 3 months, so I'm relatively new at all of this, but I'm learning fast.

Many people have asked me how things have been going so far.

Well, I gotta tell ya, I'm enjoying myself. I have 2 people who cater to my every whim and need 24/7 (which include, but is not limited to, maid service, valet service, catering service, and bath service). Every time I go into town, I get all sorts of admiring glances and gentle pats on the head. People make a fuss over me wherever I go, and I love it.

I've gotten very curious about my surroundings, so much so that I don't like being confined to my car seat or stroller. I want to be out where I can see everyone and everything, where I don't miss an admiring glance or compliment. After all, I AM the star of the show.

It has been hard work, though, this experience called life. I've had to train two very inexperienced and slow-witted rookies (aka Mom and Dad) to respond to my needs and wants, and it's taken a while to get them into a fully cooperative state. At first they couldn't distinguish my hunger cries from my wet diaper cries from my gassy stomach cries. They would mix up the hunger cry with the diaper cry (and they don't sound anything alike!) They didn't know that you could change a diaper, then have to change another diaper just 5 minutes later. They weren't aware that I could create so much laundry. They had no idea that there is no such thing as nap time, and that I would only sleep when I was darn well ready to. Imagine that!
The rookies don't seem to be especially bright, but they are trying, and they sure seem to think the world of me. I think that with another few months of training, I'll have them right where I want them.

A few days ago I rolled over for the first time, but got caught up in the slats on my crib, and couldn't roll myself back, so I had to holler for Mom to come rescue me. She came right away, of course, and then I made her change me and get me a bottle. Then she sat down in the rocker chair and spent a long time talking and singing to me. I like it when Mom talks to me. It makes me feel like I'm part of something special. So to let her know she was doing a good job, I gave her a great big smile and a giggle. She seemed to like that, because she gave me a kiss and a hug, and told me how happy she was I was here. It was a great moment. So great, in fact, that I didn't even tell her I had to be changed again. She figured it out on her own. Eventually.

He Says, She Hears... She Says, He Hears...

Like most couples, Big Dave and I sometimes don't speak the same language.

For example, we are trying to decide on a new TV. Since Big Dave is the one who's in-the-know in the technology department, he has subjected me to long "discussions" about the benefits/disadvantages to various TVs.

He says, "Panasonic - VIERA 50" Class 1080p 600Hz Plasma HDTV with 3 HDMI outputs and built in HDTV tuner."

I hear, "..............TV...... tuner"

He says, "Should we go with Plasma, LCD or LCD LED?"

I hear, "..............................." Then I just stare at him with a blank look. I hope that will convince him to leave me out of it, as I know perfectly well any suggestion I make will be ignored by a man in the middle of "New TV Euphoria."

The tables are turned, however, when we are discussing financial matters. He usually leaves all the planning/investing up to me, but I do try to include him in the big decisions.

I say, "I know the markets are not really reliable right now, but maybe we should look at some mutual funds, ROTH IRAs and overseas CAP accounts in order to better diversify. What do you think?"

He hears, "....markets.... funds...."

He then says, "Yeah, I think we should open up a money market fund."

Again, I stare at him with a blank look.

In another example, my husband, like most men, is not very diligent when it comes to cleaning/organizing the house. Things can pile up very quickly, and he's perfectly content to let it pile up until (A) we can no longer enter the room or (B) we can no longer open the closet door. So I'll casually mention that something needs to be cleaned.

I say, "We really need to do something about the master closet. How about if you take a couple of minutes and sort through your clothes and get rid of the ones you don't wear anymore? I'll do the same for mine."

He hears, "............................."

The closet remains untouched 2 weeks later.

We may not speak the same language sometimes, but we usually know the most important things to say to one another. "I love you. I appreciate you. I worship the quicksand you walk on."

Because of that, life is good.

Trials and Tribulations

Ever have one of those weeks when everything seems to go wrong? That you can't seem to do anything fast enough or good enough?

If so, welcome to my world this week.

We've been trying to solve our daughter's gas problems by switching her to soy formula. It worked. No more gas. Unfortunately, soy caused her to be constipated. Bad for baby, REALLY bad for us. There is nothing sadder than a 2 month old's cry after she tries pushing out a hard poop. Once we figured out what the problem was, we switched her back to her old formula, only to have the gas return. So now we have to deal with about 3 hours of colic everyday, because poor Kaylee has such bad gas pains (and yes, she is on the "gassy" formula, but it doesn't seem to do a whole lot).

Then, we ran into a problem with our well, as we lost water pressure for the house. That meant no water coming into the house. We then discovered that our stored water was expired, and so had to make an emergency run for bottled water. The person who was left behind had to deal with prime-time colic all on their own. Needless to say, not a good evening.

Then we had to fight with our insurance company. They wanted to classify my emergency c-section as "elective surgery", which means they don't have to pay for it. So after many phone calls to doctors, insurance company, insurance broker, and hospital, we finally got that cleared up (fingers crossed). We hope.

I'm thinking of running away to join the circus. Anyone care to join me?

Have a Nice Day

Big Dave and I went shopping yesterday, to pick up a few items for the kid. (Those of you with children will understand what a chore it can be to load up the baby, baby supplies, stroller and various paraphanalia).

Upon reaching the checkout, the clerk asks for our phone number. I tell her we don't give out that information. Clerk gives me a funny look, then says, "Oh we don't sell the info or anything. We just use it to track where our customers come from, and we send you coupons and such for your future visits." Once again, I tell her we don't give out that information. Again, I get a funny look, as if the clerk is wanting to say, "For heaven's sake, just give me the phone number -- everyone else does. Why are you being so difficult?"

This has been one of my pet peeves for a long time. Within the last few years, it seems more and more stores are asking for information they have no business getting, whether it be a phone number, zip code, or email address.

And whenever I protest that they don't need the info, I'm usually given "the look", which generally translates into "This is the way business is done now. We need your info so we may better annoy you, bombard you with junk mail, and send you unwanted email. Please cooperate so we may make even more money by selling your information to our partners."

I cannot begin to tell you how many times I've been "reassured" by clerks that the info is never sold to anyone else, and yet how often it corresponds to an increase in unwanted mail by 3rd parties. Hmmm...

So our Standard Operating Procedure is now to deny any company any information they don't need to know. Meanwhile, I'll continue to get "the look", the sighs, the eye rolling, and other rude gestures from clerks.

I guess in today's corporate world, this is the new "Have a Nice Day."