The Mom Chronicles. Chapter 4

Last week Katie and I went over to see Mary and new baby Conor for an hour or so. Katie was very good with the baby. She didn't try to stick her finger in his eye or anything. Mary is still adjusting to the idea of being a mother of two and I am sympathizing with her. Its funny how just 15 short months ago what seemed like an insurmountable task - taking care of one baby - now seems like a piece of cake when comparing it to trying to take care of a newborn AND a toddler. I'm not even pregnant with the second one and I am already yearning for those days when all you had to do was eat, sleep and poo on the same schedule as your one baby.

I think God does this kinda stuff just for giggles. Its like when you are a kid and you are so mad that you have to take an afternoon nap. You can't wait to be a grown up. Then you become an adult. And you want to go back in time and slap the silly right out of your past self because you would give your right arm to be allowed to play outside and come in for milk and cookies and a little siesta after lunch.

moral: what you dread today will be what you miss tomorrow. oh you cruel, cruel world.

So, back to my story... after our visit, K and I when to do our weekly grocery shopping. Katie is sitting in the shopping cart (trolley) and squealing up a storm. Talking, cooing, squirming... Appearing to be having a grand old time. She burped and a little tiny fleck of something brown and mushy landed on her dress. She looked down and looked at me and I wiped it off with my thumb and expertly flicked it like a big juicy booger into the packages of ground beef. Looking back, I can see now how that should have been an indication of things to come... A harbinger of ugly events, for as we were turning into the cereal aisle, Katie let fly a spewing of her gastrointestinal contents like she was auditioning to be the next Linda Blair.

Time stood still. Images passed my eyes in slow motion. I watched as the chunks and liquid spilled forth from her mouth, down her dress, her arm, her leg, the cart, and SPLATTERED onto the floor. I think actually that I jumped back away from her a few feet...how sad that that would be my instinctual reaction. Sorry kid! You're on you own with this one... I always wondered if I would rise up in an emergency. fight or flight? Hasta la vista, baby. I'm just glad I wasn't holding her as now I am pretty sure I would have dropped her into the mess of her own making. She will talk about me in therapy someday.

My first thought was, crap! and her diaper bag is in the car! I don't have anything to clean her up with! I didn't know what to do... Then the two brain cells that were actually still on the job hollered into the giant chasm of empty space in my head and said, "hello?! you are standing in the middle of a store - what do you have in the diaper bag that you don't have here?" good point. Luckily we were a stone's throw from the paper goods and I grabbed the first package of paper towels I could find. Then it was like when you spill a glass of milk and it runs off the end of the table onto the carpet. You don't want old rotten milk smell in your carpet, so you the go straight for the carpet but the milk is still dripping from the table edge so you have to clean from the top down but then you are just looking at the milk as it seeps into the fibers and... I was trying to sop up the puddles on the floor, but Ms. Mt Vesuvius wasn't done. So then I tried to catch the puke as it was coming out of her mouth but paper towel is not that absorbent so it was really just now having to roll off my hand then onto the dress, leg, cart, floor.



Some poor, poor young part-time, after school employees came to my aid. Why they didn't bring a mop, I don't know, but they were going to clean the floor with a roll of paper towels too. I could not in good conscience let them touch vomit! I said to them, now, this isn't in your job description. I will clean it up, 'cause sadly, it is in mine.



So they got some cardboard and we managed to scoop up the bulk of the mess onto the cardboard and into the trash. Katie, all the while, looking on, forlorn and chartreuse. The girls kept saying to me, It's okay, you can finish with your shopping. But I realized, that was indeed the million dollar question. Do I carry on with my shopping? Is she going to get sick again? There couldn't be anything left. But Katie and the cart are soaked and smelly. But, on the other hand, I was almost done...

I kept shopping. Acutely aware of everything I was touching. With my vomit hands. Remember the cold germ commercial where the kid sneezes fluorescent germs then they transfer to the door nob then to the next kid, then to the next? I could SEE the vomit molecule trail I was leaving behind.

When, of course, Katie started throwing up again in the frozen food section... I could have died. How do I explain this to the girls when they come to clean up AGAIN? I had no choice but a quick and hasty mop up job and slink out of the store.

I tell this story today because I went back to the grocery for the first time since 'the incident' this morning. I was half-expecting to find a posted notice with a grainy surveillance camera photo of me and la barfarama mama asking "Have you seen this person? Reward for info leading to capture."

Fortunately our trip was uneventful. But I did however closely inspect the cart. You never know what is going to be dried on them...

Sleeping Beauty and other misleading fairy tales

ahhh. yawn, stretch...Oh! Well! Good morning.. what day is it? In my bigger than life super dooper bed Ive been doing so much sleeping my blogging has drastically reduced. Have I been asleep since last Friday? groan..mumble..stretch

While Rip Van Winkle slept his beard grew and grew. Like him, my follicles were in overdrive.

In the words of my favorite utha-mutha, Carolee Perrin, "I can feel my leg hairs blowing in the breeze!"

Gee Leslie, you sure were right! NOT. So help me, if you jinxed me you can just consider yourself OUT of my will. That's right, you can just kiss your sweet $1.87 good-bye.

I still can't sleep. I can't get comfortable and I can't shut up the voices in my head. They aren't like the devil voices telling me to poison my husband's tea or anything like that (yet...) It's just me, my voice rambling on and on and on about nothing. I guess that is apropos for me, huh?!

And song lyrics! I get a song stuck in my head and it plays over and over and over.

For the last two nights my hips have been aching so badly. Its a deep, dull thud of an ache and it only seems relieved when I have my hips totally flexed. So I end up trying to sleep Katie-style; knees tucked up under me and ass in the air. That would work fine if. I. didn't. want. to. breathe. What is it that is pushing itself up into my chest space? Oh yes, my gut.. when did that get there?

According to WebMD at 3 a.m. aching hips are not a diagnostic symptom for any form of cancer or any other slow, drawn-out, tragic fatal illness. So, of course, that only proves one thing:

WebMD is not to be trusted.

My silver lining: I discovered two great things about English satellite television at 4 a.m. One, Dr. 90210 is on and they don't blur out the boobies. (which is ironic because they bleep the word "ass" on Scrubs here- which is my favorite show now and I can watch it anytime between 6 am and midnight because it is on ALL DAY LONG on Paramount Comedy One and Two, channels 126 and 127 for all you Sky subscribers out there) btw, my friend Leslie once told me that I was a female Zack Braff and I took offense. But I dont anymore. He is comic genius. And he dated Mandy Moore. That ups his status in my book. That's like saying I could land a gal like Mandy too... yeah, righteous. And second magical discovery, The Sarah Silverman Show. I've known that I like her comedy for some time now. My cousin Ali took me to see her live in Miami Beach. If I hadn't had those two martinis at dinner right before I'm sure I would have told you how great the show was. Its all a blur to me now... But Id never seen her TV show and now I have and if I am going to be awake at 4 o'clock in the morning from this day forward, so be it. I will watch that show every morning and reaffirm that I have meaning in my life.

p.s. Jimmy, whatever you did to make my Sarah sad, undo it and get back together. please. for us kids...

Speaking of songs playing incessantly in my head, there is a song out there and I don't know the name of it. I don't know who sings it. I, in fact, don't even know any of the lyrics. I woke up one morning with a tune in my head and hummed it for Manus, he confirmed that I didn't dream it but couldn't name it either. I have been listening to the radio 24/7 and scouring top 40 lists and the ITunes store for best sellers trying to find it to no avail. And now I can't even get the melody in my head. So, if you hear my song, jot down the name of it - and let me know...

We are going to London for Katie's cousin Esme's christening. Will be back Tuesday. Don't worry, I'll take lots of pictures. You wont miss a thing.

The gut-wrenching, dagger-through-the-heart agony that is a mother's love

I didn't know it would be this intense to love your child. When Katie was first born, I can remember telling Manus that had I known how much my heart would actually hurt from loving her so much - I felt real pain - that I don't think I would have had any children. Now, looking back on it, perhaps that was a little of the post-partum talking...

I hear myself telling Katie, "I love you so much I just want to eat you up!" But the thing is, I really do. Like, hugging her and kissing her isn't enough. I want to nibble on her toes, pinch her cheeks (all four of them), squeeze her so tight that her little eyes bug out of her head. I want to breathe her in, I want to ingest her... Just loving her doesn't quench my need for her.
Just yesterday I said to Manus over lunch,

"Do you think it's like creepy and maybe a little inappropriate that I want to kiss Katie all the time?"
"No."
"But, I mean, I kiss her on the lips."
"That's okay. She is your child."
"But with tongue?"

Stunned silence. I like to get Manus all riled up. I kid. I laugh. I usually laugh alone.

But seriously, don't call the fuzz, I don't use tongue.

And, just to keep things fair, I don't even use tongue with Manus.

The other side to loving someone so much is the freaking worry that comes with it. And wildly inappropriate and drastically grandiose worrying is my strong suit.

Being a nurse is not a good career choice for a hypochondriac. I just learned the names of the illnesses that I have.

Now we have a little hypochondria by proxy in this house. Last week Katie went through a phase where she was not sleeping, really clingy and needy and she didn't want to eat.

I convinced myself that she was becoming autistic from the MMR vaccine (which, p.s., gave her the measles last month) and that she was in acute renal failure. Now I know what you are thinking, that I am crazy and I don't even make sense cause real clingy is the opposite of autism, but as my father likes to say, Please don't confuse me with the facts.

I had to put a temporary ban on Google when Katie was first born because I was freaking myself out with all the crap I was looking up - baby acne, the bump behind her ear (oh wait, there is one on the other side too..), the color of her poop. The frequency of her poop. The consistency - Holy shit, the first time I fed her bananas I was sure she had a large intestine full of worms!! I saved the diaper to show my mother for a second opinion. You guessed it, not worms.

The worst thing that ever happened to me was Katie turning one. Cause now she is supposed to give up the bottle and the formula. But then how will I know she is getting her nutrients? I depend on enfamil for her vitamins and minerals and ADH or ADHD something. I have read guidelines on how much of what toddlers should eat, there are diets and cookbooks.
I am in a panic about whether or not she got all her servings of fruit, veg, protein, dairy, omega 3s, antioxidants, probiotics! And how could she? I was drinking a juice box of apple juice (shouldn't give it to the kids cause its full of sugar and where's the fiber?) and it boasted that it was "1 of my daily 5" servings of fruit. Five servings? I am not hungry enough. And Katie sure isn't either. She will shove a whole banana in her mouth though... wonder how many servings that is.

I couldn't tell you the last green thing she ate. She must be her mother's child. No veggies, only sweets. One day she got caught red-handed, literally with her hand in the cookie jar.

I do not know how she got into the chocolates as fast as she did. I left the room just to throw away a dirty diaper and walked back in to this scene.
All I could do was laugh.

Then of course, after obtaining the incriminating proof, I spent an hour on Google search trying to find out if she was going to die from eating chocolate at such a young age.

Talk about shoveling food in! I told you before that girl doesn't chew. It goes out the same way it goes in. And most meals she does do a little gag as too much food slips to the back. Before each meal I do a mental run-through the infant Heimlich maneuver and what is the quickest route to get her out of the high chair and what is the ratio of breaths to compressions in child CPR?
Then I really do myself in cause I'm watching shows like "101 more things removed from the human body". Hand to God I did not make up that title. Shake your head and say, "Crazy Irish TV" all you want, but sorry, it was an American program. Anyway, part of the show was dedicated to all the things that kids ate. Double A batteries, for heaven's sake! And so many coins... oy vey! All that has to happen is one coin getting stuck horizontally... Stop it. stop it.

Since Katie was born I say a prayer each and every night that Katie stay healthy and safe and not be dead in the morning. And this is not so much because I am religious as much as soooo superstitious. I've started this thing now and it's worked so far so there is no way I can stop it now. I'm just glad I didn't make a deal with God that first night that I would give up chocolate or beer or something in exchange for her safety. I'd really be kicking myself if I'd bound myself that way...

Manus seems to be dealing with my neuroses and superstitious rituals pretty well. Secretly, I think he is a little glad I have someone else to focus my angst toward. I am no longer telling him on a daily basis that I think he has leukemia or esophageal varices. I am, however, keeping a close eye on those moles...

I think I keep my crazy fairly well tucked away out of plain sight. I don't think I am going to make Katie afraid of her own shadow or scared to cross the street (not that she will be allowed out of the house. ever.) I know she will get some bumps and bruises along the way and I'm okay with that (I do, in a panic, beg that there not to be any permanent disfigurement the instant I hear her cry out in pain) but, I let her explore the stairs and things that are hot and/or sharp. I let her eat food right off the floor all the time. I don't think she will ever know that every morning that I don't wake up hearing her babbling from the crib that I am convinced that she is dead.

Now, don't go calling me morbid or sick or disturbed or tell me that I have to go see a shrink about my fears and anxiety. I let you into my little world of wacko, don't make me regret it.

And besides, in other words of wisdom from my father;

"If you admit it, it's not wrong."

Livin' Large with Laura: Why'dja KILKENNY?

Confession Time: Since we moved to Ireland, Katie has been eating pre-made, store bought, jarred baby food. There, I said it. A weight has been lifted off my shoulders. I started out with good intentions - I peeled, diced and boiled potatoes, sweet potatoes, courgettes (tee-hee; zucchini) and carrots and Katie ate them up. Then she got sick around her birthday time and would no longer entertain the idea of finger food veggies. So, I gave her a jar of "Cow and Gate" mixed veggies and she was willing to eat the mush. Why the leading baby food maker in Ireland thought "Cow and Gate" would be a good brand name, I dunno. I bought it 'cause it was the cheapest. guess I shouldn't admit that though. No! I didnt even give her the organic baby food! I know I've now been disowned by mama, but the truth must be told.

Of course, I admit all this now because I just spent the morning with Annabel Karmel making some delicious baby gruel that is even freezer friendly. Clodagh gave us an A.K. baby cookbook and I cracked it open for the first time making treats such as Lentils and Vegetable Puree, Hide-The-Veggies Pasta Sauce, and Salmon Potato Cakes. I am officially filing the purchase of my first hand held upright Sachini blender under "Best Things I've Ever Done".. I'm sorry again mom, I never packed the baby food grinder-mill for Ireland as a) I thought I was done pulverizing tasty morsels and b) this is cooking 21st century style. Modern electric gadgetry is a train and it's leaving the station; swing yourself over the rail and hold on tight... (I'm no longer beating my clothes out on a rock or churning my own butter, either.)

So the salmon cakes call for canned red salmon. The average human body has 206 bones. (I say 'average' because I was watching a special on this guy with no arms that saved a woman from a burning car. He obviously has less than 206...and he is simply NOT average. No lie. However, humans have NOTHING on the 14, 987 bones in a salmon. I know cause I counted them as I plucked them from the canned meat. To make sure I had them all, I reconstructed the salmon skeleton as I went.
Diligent as I was, there is NO WAY a little bone didn't find its way into my potato cake. I just hope I annihilated the little bugger with my blender/bone crusher! I think I'm going to go blend again, just for good measure and the joy it brings me. Someday when Katie is older and writing her memoirs, "Mommy Dearest, part 2" she can include that I force-fed her fish bones and made her kneel on a hill of beans. No wait, that last part is for MY memoir...


Anyway, thanks for all the well-wishing done on Brian's part. Yes, all ONE of you... Fortunately modern medicine does NOT rely on strangers' thoughts and prayers for successful outcomes (sorry to those I offend with the truth). Brian had his surgery yesterday and is doing great today.

His appendix didn't fare out nearly as well...

As if!! Wouldn't that be the coolest if I could get a picture of HIS removed appendix for my blog?! Dude. That would be so rad.

The doctors said he was lucky it was just his appendix making him sick. They've heard recent horror stories of mothers feeding their babies fish bones...

All this and we haven't even relived our time in Kilkenny with Laura.

Although I'd been here 5-6 times even before moving here, I'd never taken a proper tour of the city. Laura's visit supplied the perfect opportunity and we booked in with Pat Tynan's Walking Tours. But no, it wasn't Pat Tynan leading the tour... It was Mr. Finnigan. I think I introduced
you to him before:


Well, I don't really know what his name was (the guy in the picture or our tour guide) but so as to not have to continue to call him "That Guy" Laura affectionately named him Mr. Finnigan and it stuck. He's not the last person we named, though the others are a bit blurry at this point. Laura - reminders? I know there was a Patrick... was he the young fiddle player?

Mr. Finnigan was a wealth of historical knowledge. (He should be, as he was there when it all actually happened). A lot of what we saw on tour is stuff that I showed you in another post so I won't repeat myself.

So I won't repeat myself. ha.

Stunning Stained Glass in the Black Abbey. (We went to mass there on Father's Day also.)

Kilkenny Castle

We took a guided tour of the castle. Another OLD building. It was the Butler family's private home until the 1970s. No one had lived there since the 20's when the Butlers, facing financial strain, auctioned off all the furniture and interior finishings and high-tailed it out of town. If you happen to own a piece of original Butler family furniture, the Castle would like to have it back. Let me know and we'll put you in touch with the right people. The 3 sided castle was once a 4 sided fortress. Cromwell did the drastic leveling renovations. Excavations have shown that this stone building sits atop the site of the original wooden fortress built for STRONGBOW himself.

This is the castle's backyard. You have seen this place before too. We go jogging here. There is a playground (currently under renovation) and a duck pond with 2 beautiful white swans. Yeah, it's tough living here..

And this is proof that Laura made it all the way up to the top of the Round Tower in St. Canice's Cathedral. Stunning 360 degree views of Kilkenny City. Note death grip on railing. Laura said all she could see were stars.
I looked around and found where we are living! Pretty cool. Actually, Manus told me that if you do "Google Earth" you can find us too. But it must be an old picture cause its still mainly a construction site.

What would you do if the day the satellite snapped the picture of your house you were sunbathing nude in the back yard?

Since Last We Spoke

Also known as the weekend roundup. Howdy.

Since last we spoke, my cousin Anne had her third baby. Her first boy and his name is Max Robert Croyle. So congratulations to the Croyle family and welcome Max!

"Go Ma-ax, It's your birthday, go Ma-ax it's your birthday!" (and it was too!)

We went out with Paul and Ann, the people from whom we are renting our house on Friday night to listen to a man named Phil Donnelly play his guitar and sing. You may recognize the name as he played with Donovan back in the day. It was a very good show. He had a fun sense of humor and I liked the music. You know, he played with Donovan... The show was held in a small back room of Cleere's pub, a place well known for its musical acts and impromptu 'sessions' with local musicians. Somehow though, word must not have gotten out that a man who played with Donovan was going to be there as the audience was only about a baker's dozen. I mean, he played with Donovan, man! Did I mention he played....?
He's the one on the left. And another difference here in Ireland; Paul wanted to buy him a whiskey when the show was over and he said, "ah, man.. I'm actually a recovering alcoholic... I'll just have a glass of Guinness." That is hysterical. And, ps, this picture is just one I found on the web to show you the one, the only, the man who played with Donovan. I don't have any clue who the two on the right are...

Anyway, Saturday we slept in a bit. ahem. Then went for a walk out to the county hospital to visit Manus' aunt Mary. She looked quite good but OMG! the hospital!! Definite culture shock. Won't get into it now, but maybe its not such a bad thing that I cant work there...

Sunday we went to Dublin as we have to exchange our rental car every 30 days. This time we got a Ford Mondeo. It is so strange to have Fords and Toyotas and Hondas, but never a model I've ever heard of in the States. These are also known as Ford Contour or Mercury Mystique. Those I've heard of. Anyway, this old baby has been rode hard and put away wet, but she'll do for the next month.

Again, stock footage. Ours is black. And not as shiny.

We did some walking around in Dublin and I got my sushi!! Oh, it was soooo good. I can't wait til we have to go back! I love walking down Grafton (thanks O) street as there are always street performers or "buskers" and these two were really good. Well, I guess not that good considering the classical quartet was playing in the same spot last year when we visited...



And speaking of things that were in the same spot as last year..... So were we!!










If anyone wants to friggin help me format these g-d pictures so they can just sit next to each other, by all means do so. I am two photos away from seeing if this computer can fly.



We met Manus' cousin Mary and her daughter Maha for dinner Sunday night. We were to spend more time with them Monday morning (with the camera) before returning to Kilkenny, but alas, the bad old bug is back.
Both Manus and Katie had rough nights Sunday. I have been spared for some reason. I have been trying to But see, Ireland needs me as a nurse after all.

We made it home to Kilkenny yesterday afternoon and everyone is feeling a bit better today.

I've taken the cue from Ireland and am trying to find even more ways to go green! so I said "lets kick this energy conservation up a notch" BAM! and eliminate the clothes washer altogether.
Just hang your clothes up right before a damn rain storm and don't take them down til they're dry. These should be done next Tuesday.

And finally, it seems Katie's love affair with vegetables is over. She has become such a picky eater in the last few weeks. She has even taken to reaching into her mouth with her fingers to fish out any veggies that I sneak in and sticking her tongue out to block when I try to spoon feed her some greens. So I've taken to mashing up veggies and hiding them in things she will eat like porridge and eggs and pudding. She has even gotten to smart for that...

Okay, so maybe zucchini in apricot yogurt wasn't the most stealth move... But then -

...She shows me her gang sign and threatens to stab me with her Dora spoon if I ever try something like that again.

So I thought, hmm... there's a lesson to be learned here...

I guess she knows who's the boss now, huh?!

Happy Birthday, Katie

Well, Friday was Katie's birthday and despite a cake my Mummum Rice would be proud of, our celebrations were a bit dampened by illness.
Katie started getting sick on Thursday. Fever, vomiting, (loose stools too, if you will). She was so drowsy and so pale that she was blue even that we took her an after hours clinic. The doctor there said most likely it was just a stomach bug and tylenol for fever, fluids etc. etc. (remind me at the end to talk about how easy and quick it was to have her seen). So, anyway, here it is Monday and long story short, the stomach bug proved to be a birthday gift that keeps on giving and Friday night it got me and by Sunday morning Manus too was praying to the porcelain goddess.
But, as they say on Broadway, the show must go on.


With enough food and drink to feed an army (yes, Ireland has one... drove by the barracks just the other day) we awaited our guests.

"It's my party and I'll cry if I want to..."

(l-r) Papa Niall, Manus and the party animal, Aunt Peig, Nana Kay

Sean and Monica

(l-r) Orla, Nana with Katie, Niall, Jake and Manus

So then we all sang, Katie blew out her candles, we ate cake and everyone went to bed.
Well, maybe there was more, but it's taken me all day to muster the energy to post this much, so I'll have to work on it again tomorrow. Unless my head is back in the toilet. just to leave you with a pleasant thought...

The Mom Chronicles

As American Mother's Day is just around the corner, I thought I would write a poem about what it means to be a mother.

You know a mom loves you

Writes your name in the sand

She doesn't even mind

when you pee on her hand.

The Mom Chronicles Volume One

"The Urine Sample"

So, Katie needed to submit a urine sample for a follow-up infection screening. Try as I might, she wouldn't just pee in a cup. She had given of her life-water in a doctor's office in Miami before our move, so when the paediatrician (nope, not misspelled here) here asked for a sample to be delivered to his office, I thought "no problem". A specimen cup changed hands and I was sent to the local chemist for a urine collection bag or 'kinder urinauffangbeutel' (again, no misspelling). Yesterday morning, rise and shine. Katie gets a bath so as to be as sterile as possible and as I opened the package containing the bag I find much to my chagrin that there are no instructions enclosed. Okay, I can do this, I am a registered nurse after all. I peel back the adhesive strips and tape my poor baby's nu-nu to a ziplock and wait for magic. And wait. I have to put a diaper over this contraption because Katie thinks she should try and pull the bag off (ouch!). Next thing you know... I see 'the face': A look of concentration, pursed lips, her face a dark shade of red and... well, needless to say, specimen contamination. Take off the bag, clean up the mess and back to the chemist for not one, but lets go with 2 more collection bags (just in case). I'll try again in the morning.



So, up again this morning. Bag on, diaper on. Downstairs for breakfast. A little shudder from Katie tells me that the lemonade stand has opened for business. (dont tell me you never heard "milk, milk, lemonade, round the corner fudge is made!"?). Well, somehow the urine went up OVER the adhesive strips (rendering them wet and useless) and out onto the diaper. Mere drips of urine only in the bag. So, we sit on the floor, diaper off and my hand making a peace sign so as to hold the bag in place with my two fingers on her inner thighs while I plead with Katie to find it in herself to stop squirming, stop trying to crawl away with the palm of my hand cupping the -absolute cutest- buttocks and show me a little PG rated "golden shower". We sit there for a good 15 minutes. I try tickling her, pressing on her belly, I even was making waterfall sounds with my mouth.



Well, I guess pushing on the belly did something, because next thing you know...that's right... The FACE.



It was all I could do to move my hand and watch in horror as my sweet, innocent, beautiful baby girl POOPED ON THE KITCHEN FLOOR.



As I was cleaning the floor I thought to myself.... I am a mother. In ALL its glory.



In the end, the THIRD bag was applied and I sat holding her, pouring water and apple juice down her throat and finally got the goods.

So help me if we need another test.



And now for your daily dose. (worry not... no pictures we taken today)

"I love you, grandma!!"