Amen.

*blows dust off of keyboard*

So, HI! Now that I can see again, I can update you on the gloriousness that is modern pharmaceuticals. On Day Two of AcidWatch 2006, I thought I might kill someone. I had plans. And a weapon picked out. And even an outfit. But then, like a miracle from all that is good and holy, the shit kicked into gear on Day Three.

(I also might have read a book about infant sleeping habits and immediately instituted a few minor changes that may or may not have been helpful but we’re sticking to it ‘cause it’s fucking working, people!)

The difference is so damn amazing that Husband and I were downright giddy. I might have giggled. At 6:30am. Liquor free.

I washed my car.

I know that sounds (a) silly, (b) like it has absolutely no relevance to this story and, (c) like you are the victim of bad literary transitions, but, NO! ‘Tis a milestone! Not so much on the infant developmental scale, but certainly on the “I can function like a responsible adult again” chart it ranks way high.

I had the energy to do something that had nothing to do with food, safety or shelter. Merely vanity. (Which I totally think should be a Mazlow category, but that’s another post.)

Now, I might be tempting the parenting gods here, but today was a good day. And all signs point to another good night. And if it is true, I’m gonna buy stock in whatever company manufactures Prevacid.

‘Cause those folk got mad skillz. And I love them.

So, I’m more rested, can update and do vain things, but I can’t seem to get any Benjamite pictures up for you to gawk over. More cuteness to be posted tomorrow. Until then, good night, my friends!

I am truly an asshole. No, seriously. I have publicly violated (on the Innernet, no less!) cardinal rule #1 about an easy baby.

I said I had an easy baby. Out loud.

Which means I was promptly bitch-slapped by the karma-gods have spent the last week with an infant who is ravenously hungry, but can’t sleep more than an hour after eating because something evil takes a hold of his innards and causes him to scream at the top of his lungs.

Lather, rinse, repeat. Every three hours. Oh My G-d.

And, to add insult to injury, he didn’t seem really interested in pooping. For 25.75 hours straight.

Not. Helping.

Proactively I called my brother, who I knew had the best pedi-meds for this kind of thing, and scored some Prevacid. Awesome! But then, Husband got all nervous and said we should call the doctor to make sure it was okay to give to him.

Fine. Pussy.

The pediatrician was gone until Monday and no one would authorize the meds “officially” without seeing Benjamite first. So I killed him. He’s dead now. And I’m LOVING what our litigious society has done to healthcare.

So here we are, with tablets of gold, not using them, and not sleeping. Husband and I were dangerously approaching That Moment About Which We Don’t Speak.

After two and a half days of not sleeping, we were (BY G-D!) going to see the doctor this morning and we did. And 3 seconds after getting the boy stripped down, the doctor removed his diaper, asked me to hold it near Benjamite’s tushie “like a hockey goal”, and promptly stuck his pinky finger up my son’s ass.

Brokeback infant.

Well, the tushie’s fine and, of course, he said we could use the Prevacid (shit!), so now we’re hopefully on the path to gastrointestinal peace and sleep. Amen.

And I think that’s enough for a Monday. Don’t you?

You know what happens when you actually have an infant that sleeps? YOU sleep. Yes! Who knew?

Benjamite has suddenly developed a gas issue. I’m not sure why this surfaced in week FIVE, but it has. He’s a pretty easy-going baby, but he suddenly couldn’t stay asleep for more than 2 hours and wasn’t eating as well and was, uh, farting. A lot. And painfully, apparently.

We sucked it up for a night or two, but two nights ago we hit our threshold of tolerance and tiredness and called the pediatrician the next morning. And, of course, I just “officially” returned back to work and had three HUUUUGE meetings in a row the next day. On three hours sleep. And I might have forgotten to put on deodorant and had to buy some at the store on the way to the hospital.

Charming.

Dr. CrustyHero (because this guy has a rough bedside manner, but he is so old school that his office actually calls YOU to check on the kids thankstoallthatisgoodandholy) told us to start making Benjamite a little formula / Myelcon cocktail each time. And it seems to be working…sort of.

All I know is we all slept last night. And I put my underwear on correctly this morning AND put on deodorant.

It is a good day. Hope yours is, too.

Well, SnakeWatch 2006 continues.

But! Before we were completely freaked out by Snakes On The Porch, we had a very big couple of days around here.

First, the Mighty Mighty Benjamite got blessed and his Hebrew name this weekend. It was a lovely ceremony filled with friends and family and Husband and I almost got through our remarks without crying. He behaved (!!) amazingly well – he was either sleeping, eating, or looking around the whole time.

May he always be so easy-going. And let us say, Amen. Here are some pics of baby-Swimmy goodness. And the folks that love them.

Next! The Swimmy started Kindergarten on Monday. She bolted out of bed at 6:30am and threw her clothes on. She came racing into our bedroom asking when (for the love of G-d!!) are we leaving to go to her new school?!!!

I was a total mom-dork and took pictures of her outside her new school, but we had a small scientific screw-up with the camera. You see, I live in the most air conditioned part of the country. Seriously.

But when you take something chilled by air conditioning and stick it out in the awful humidity of the early morning you get, uh, fog. So, my pics are a little, uh, foggy. The camera recovered once we got inside, but so much for “capturing the moment”!

She was awesome. I could tell she was a little nervous, but not terribly. We marched into the school and she went right to her classroom. We met one of her tablemates (who had NOTHING to say and prompted The Swimmy to ask why she was so shy), put her backpack away, and she turned and said (not surprisingly), “Okay, Mommy! Bye!”

And that was that.

As I walked out of her room, there were a ton of parents “hovering” just in case their precious one got upset or freaked out. I breezed past them, grinning. But as I walked out of the school to my car, I might have had a little lump in my throat thinking about her next six years here.

But that passed. And it was just another Monday. Except for the snakes.

It appears my house is under some kind of biblical siege. We are slowly working through every single plague. Last week? Fire. Today? SNAKES. Oh, and I heard locusts outside this morning.

Yes, snakes. A potential copperhead slithering across my back doormat. I’ve made 900 phone calls trying to get SOMEONE to call me back to come rip up my entire back deck… with no luck.

This should have been a post about The Swimmy’s first day of Kindergarten, or Benjamite’s naming ceremony yesterday. That will have to wait.

Be back later. With a shovel. And knee high boots. Perhaps with Husband’s shotgun. Wish me luck.

So, instead of having a fabulous lunch or dinner with Husband for my birthday, I sat in my house and watched 9 people do this to my stuff.

Seriously. 9 people. For a fire in the oven that burned for 5 minutes. At one point I saw a small woman scrubbing a light switch with a toothbrush and another cleaning each and every leaf off of a fake tree. This was topped only by the one standing on my bathroom vanity and cleaning my lightbulbs.

I shit you not.

So, the house is cleaner (as in the cleanest it’s ever been since we moved in) and we’re all back home now. Aside from some annoying cleaning solution smell all’s well and I’m busy shopping for major appliances I can’t afford.

And little Benjamite’s naming / blessing ceremony is on Sunday, so I went to get me some more “rockstar”. And if Husband gets home at any decent hour tonight, I’m gonna get me that drink I’ve been waiting for for TEN MONTHS.

Today is my birthday. I am that number up top now. You would know this if you were within a 2 foot radius of The Swimmy because all day long she’s told anyone within earshot that, “It’s my Mommy’s birthday today!” Which is very cute, except when you look like a truck hit you on I-10 because you’ve been dealing with insurance nightmares from the fire and the clean up and Benjamite throwing up all over himself at 5am which woke up The Swimmy and did I mention we had to stay at my folks house because of the smoke and sootiness?

Yep. Happy Birthday to ME!

Upon reflecting to my birthday last year, it appears my birthday is starting to create a suck trend in my life. Perhaps I should stop observing it. Perhaps I will just stay 36 thankyouverymuch not because I have a problem becoming 37 but because I’m too afraid of what catastrophe might befall Casa Pammer next year.

Yes. That sounds like a plan.

But I still want cake. And a drink.

Ah!! I shall drink and eat cake while the restoration people scrub down my house and belongings. Then I shall drunk shop on the internet for a new double oven because what’s a fire good for if not to upgrade your sucky appliances, right?!

Right. Now THAT’S a plan, my friends.

…I shall set my oven aflame. Yep. Burnt like toast. Calls to 911. Firetrucks with sirens. Smoke and soot on a gazillion wood blinds.

All I was doing was broiling some (what would have been) delicious chicken / spinach / feta sausages. Some of the grease popped and hit the oven’s heating element. Next thing I knew? Flames roaring out of my oven.

Fuck!

So now I’ve lost 2 out of 3 ways of heating or cooking food because I’ve had to essentially disconnect my oven / microwave combination. That leaves the stove. That also leaves Husband and I aggravated that we have to heat all of Benjamite’s bottles the “old fashioned” way. Gah!

And, to add insult to injury, I spent over $200 at the grocery store today almost restocking my fridge and kitchen with awesome stuff to cook all week. And now I have no way to cook them. Double GAH!

But! We’re all fine and the house is fine and I have yet another asinine thing to write about on this blog. The Swimmy got to see real live (and cute!) firemen in action and learn the importance of 911 and safety rules. And, of course, Benjamite slept through it all.

Now, I’m with Beth on the whole cute firemen thing. But, I’d prefer they only visit socially. I have no interest on seeing them again professionally.

Now. How to get the barbecue smell out of my house…

All that’s missing is Tim, my current gay crush. But that’s a different post.

So! I went to see my seamstress who is working on my fabulouso dress for OldestDaughter and TheBoy’s wedding. The project had been “on hold” for awhile due to this other project of mine. Hard to fit a dress with a basketball in the way.

But! The time has come to get back on track. Today was the final muslin fitting. Here is a pic of the muslin on me before some final adjustments. (Note: the dress will be full length when finished – this was just to get the draping / seams right.) It’s kind of an empire-waisted, greek goddess thing I got going on.

And here, my gentle snowflakes, is the fuschia-colored, 4-ply silk all this drapiness will be made of, as well as the fabric for the awesome ribbon and sparkle embroidered sash that will tie around my (now much smaller) waist. (There’s a grey table underneath, so it’s hard to tell that the sash is a lovely limey-green color – but it’s so pretty live.)

All I need now is to finalize what the sparkles will look like hanging from my ears and wrists, and we’re good to go.