Fifteen Month Check-Up: Caitlin Edition

As if I wasn't dreading Caitlin's morning appointment enough for the potential doctor-led scolding I was expecting, the powers that be decided to drop a heap of surprise road construction and one lane highways on me as well, meaning that my usually fifteen minute drive to the doctor took closer to an hour.

Also meaning that technically, I missed the appointment altogether.

See, my doctor has this rule about being more than fifteen minutes late, in that if you ARE more than fifteen minutes late, you get rescheduled to a later time, because SHAME ON YOU FOR MAKING YOUR DOCTOR WAIT. And honestly, I get it. I do. I like to think that this rule will make me all kinds of happy in the future, when I'm not stuck waiting in the office for 30 minutes past my scheduled appointment, all because someone else couldn't get there in time for their appointment. It's probably a good thing for everyone.

But this morning? After I'd left my house at 8:40am to find traffic stopped dead about a mile from said house, after I'd called at 8:50am to tell them I was definitely going to be late because of said stopped traffic, after I'd called them AGAIN at 9:15 to tell them I was STILL at least ten minutes out from the office and STILL sitting in traffic and was there anything they could do to help me? After they put me on hold for five minutes while they tried to see if there was any possible way they could still see my baby today? After I remembered sitting in the exam room during the last well visit for close to twenty minutes between seeing the doctor and having the nurse finally come back to give Caitlin her shots?

I can't say I was too high on the rule at that point. In fact, I may have had a slight breakdown around the fact that I was already closing in on a 45 minute trip, AND I was already going to be late to work (which has been a roller coaster of stressful situations in and of itself these last few weeks), AND I had already stressed myself out enough around Caitlin not walking, AND I was NOT going to be thrilled if they tried to push us out to another day.

Anyway. The doctor was booked for the rest of the day, but there was an opening at 10:30am with the nurse practitioner, so when Caitlin and I showed up at the office shortly after 9:30am, we settled in for a wait, and at 10:27am*, we were finally called back.

I'll be interested to see what kind of sick visit we have ahead of us after an hour spent in the waiting room for her well visit appointment, but I guess that's neither here nor there...

And now...the stats!

(Caitlin got blood drawn from her finger and shots in her poor little thigh. I feel like you can sense the betrayal in her eyes through the picture below. She is judging me harshly...)

Fifteen month stats, Caitlin:

Length: 31.75 inches (85th percentile)

(Twelve months - 31.25/95th)

(Nine months - 28.5/78th)

(Six months - 26/67th)

(Four months - 24.75/69th)

Weight: 22lbs 6.5oz (43rd percentile)

(Twelve months - 20lbs 15.4oz/42nd)

(Nine months - 19lbs 3oz/54th)

(Six months - 16lbs 6oz/59th)

(Four months - 13lbs 4oz/56th)

Fifteen month stats, Brigid:

Length: 30.5 inches (55th percentile)

(Twelve months - 30.5/90th)

(Nine months - 27.5/50th)

(Six months - 26.25/75th)

(Four months - 25/80th)

Weight: 24lbs 6oz (75th percentile)

(Twelve months - 22lbs 14oz/70th)

(Nine months - 20lbs 14oz/80th)

(Six months - 17lbs 9oz/85th)

(Four months - 14lbs 10oz/75th)

The NP asked if we had any concerns about Caitlin's ability to grasp things, which Caitlin answered by firmly grasping the NP's stethoscope and pulling it off of her neck. She asked if Caitlin could ask for things that she wanted through noises and pointing. She asked about playtime. Then she asked if we had any concerns about any of her other areas of development, at which point Caitlin kept trying to pull her socks back on over her feet, and I was all 'Oh, not at all. My kid knows how to dress herself already. See? She's really exceptional. She's trying to put her socks back on. But...uh...yeah. Now that you mention it...she's not walking, yet. BUT LOOK AT HER TRYING TO PULL HER SHIRT OVER HER HEAD!' The NP had Caitlin stand up, and said she's perfectly fine and more than ready to walk, she just must not want to do so right now. And then she told me to feed the kid more spinach (slightly low iron in the bloodwork results) and watch for more teeth (slightly higher white blood cells in the same results), and that was that.

And then I bought myself Subway to celebrate. The end.

*I was watching the clock intently, because if, as they kept telling me, so many other people were having problems getting in because of the traffic, too, didn't that mean there was a possibility that they could take me back early? Maybe? Please?

No. No it did not. You will wait your hour, and YOU WILL LIKE IT.

Letdown

Poor Brigid. Last year, Steve and I went all in on her birthday theme of Nightmare Before Christmas, with awesome invitations, an elaborate cake, more-than-was-actually-needed food (including a hot dog bar, with NBC themed food cards), and an entire set of plush NBC characters to sit around the kitchen.

This year, all of her little friends have incredibly recently born siblings, her ballet theme request has been less than easy for me to follow through on, and everybody will be lucky to get an email from me, with the party information included.
With no exaggeration on my part, I feel pretty confident in saying that she's getting this...
...and some pink and white balloons. And that's about it.

And you know what? She won't even care. She'll have sugar to eat and presents to unwrap, and she will be perfectly fine with just these two things to keep her happy.

So, why am I all upset about my lack of creativity/preparation this year, again?

School Days

Last night, Steve and I went to a parent orientation meeting for Brigid's preschool (a small class of almost three-year olds run by the church right across the street from our house).

Tomorrow, Steve, Brigid, and I are all heading to that preschool (again, small class, two teachers, a tenth of a mile away from us) for an hour of teacher/classmate meet-and-greet time.
Friday, we will be expected to drop Brigid off at that preschool (right across the street, seriously), and LEAVE HER THERE FOR THREE WHOLE HOURS WITHOUT US AND WHAT WERE WE THINKING AND OMG HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO DEAL WITH THIS?!?!?!?
You guys...

This is NOT going to be a good experience for me, is it?

Next Steps

Well....I'm having a second girl.

And I'll be 19 weeks along on Friday.

Up to this point in my pregnancy, I've been putting my to-do list off with the understanding that once I found out what I was having, I'd really get to work on making sure things were ready around the house for December.

Piles and piles of clothes around the baby's new room? Can't do anything with them until I find out what I can and can't use.

Potential names that Steve and I might like? There's really no point in going through that process until we can eliminate half of the names.

But now, I know what I'm having. And seeing as how Brigid came along around 38 weeks last time, I could technically be halfway through this pregnancy.

That's a thought right there, huh?

(Side Note: I don't know if this baby will be as early as Brigid was or not. She was measuring around 7lbs with about three weeks to go, and her head was LARGE, so my doctor decided to do what she could to 'hurry the process along' at my 38 week check-up. Considering B was 7lbs 11.5oz at birth, I appreciated the help, because I didn't want to try to deliver a 9lb baby at full -term. I think, though, that it made the labor process a little longer than it would have been, because I'm not sure Brigid was really ready to come out. I just imagine that this kid could end up being a 40 week baby, if left to her own devices. I guess we'll see...)

So, I guess it's time to start on that list, maybe? The first item on my list is going to be make a list, because between bottles and baby gear and diapers and all other manner of newborn paraphernalia, I'm not even sure what all it is I need to do before December. So I'm focusing on the organizing and laundering of Brigid's old clothes, because that is a problem staring at me every day from the bottomless pit of mess that used to be the floor of the nursery, while adding some time for an over-dramatic wailing about how THERE ARE NO GOOD NAMES LEFT IN THE WORLD!!&#!sadface!#$! because Steve and I have tried ONCE to come up with a list of names, and we weren't able to really agree on anything that we liked.

But pregnancy is not the time to be rational, people, so I will do my best to avoid any semblance of sanity at all costs. You may want to avoid me for the next few months, if that's an option open to you...

(Sorry, Steve, that most definitely does not include you. Love you and stuff!)

Where does one even find gypsies?

They say a child knows when they've pushed you to the edge. They say a child can sense when you are about to break. They say a child will reign in their bad behavior right about the time you want to sell them to the highest bidder. Or the lowest bidder. Or the person who didn't bid at all, but just turned their back long enough for you to drop the kid off and run, giggling like a supervillain, in the other direction.

Brigid should be feeling all sorts of things right now, then, is all I'm saying.

The bedtime wars reached comical levels last night, when Steve came in to tell me that Brigid claimed she would finally go to sleep, after fighting it for an hour and a half, as long as she could give me another hug goodnight first.

Suckers that we are, we fell for it.

And I went in to give her a hug, and she grabbed my hand, and she wrapped herself around my arm, and she refused to let me go when it came time to go to sleep, and Steve and I just laughed.

Because really, what other option is there when your kid is an evil genius?

Just so you know, I'm accepting bids for her in the form of Christmas cookies, now...

This Week

This week, Brigid has been to the doctor twice, once for a fever that was caused by a general virus (and was just something we had to wait out) and once for a rash that simply turned out to be the result of the fever clearing up.

This week, we thought that one of our dogs had pinkeye, and we just narrowly avoided a pointless trip to the vet by waiting it out.

(Whatever was wrong with her had cleared up by the next morning.)

This week, our other dog ate a jar of petroleum jelly. And some other various pieces of tupperware. And an entire pan of noodles. And a couple of teaspoons of shortening.

(Because of course she did.)

This week, we had a day of torrential rains that washed garden pebbles all over our up-the-hill neighbors' yard, overwhelmed our new drainage system and washed out about a third of our pine straw, and cut mud ravines through our down-the-hill neighbors' yard. And we were pretty sick about it. Until the house two doors down was struck by lightening. Then we just decided to stop worrying about it.

(The fire department was out to double check, but the house was actually fine. It did knock out our immediate neighbors' satellite service and wireless router, though.)

This week, work has been tough, and I haven't been getting enough sleep, so I've been a little more on edge than my family deserves. And of course, this is the week that Brigid decided to work a little more attitude than normal.

(Mostly due to her not feeling 100%, but still, it's been trying at times.)

This week, I've felt like I'm constantly behind on everything, and I just can't seem to figure out how to get caught up.

This week has really taken it out of me, and I'll be kind of glad when it's over.

Fly Baby

Brigid on the drive to the airport on Sunday:

Brigid on the tram in the airport from our gate to the baggage claim area:

 

Notice how there are no pictures of Brigid actually on the plane? That would be because I was too busy reading/singing/foot rubbing/M&M shoving to take any. And when I wasn't doing that, I was trying to prevent B from kicking the seat in front of her, without it all devolving into yet another screaming fit. I am tired.

And I am not getting on another plane with that kid for a very, very, very long time. It's going to take me some time to forget this one, that's for sure.

Reason #267 why I am not NEARLY nice enough to my husband...

Driving in to work this morning, my thought process was the following:

I think today is going to be a DAY. I don't know why, but I just feel a little...off. It's not supposed to be above 50 today. And it's all wet and gross out right now. And I'm tired. And I still don't have my written offer for my new job, which means I'm still stuck doing my old job, even though I am MORE THAN READY to start the new one. And now I probably won't make the 3/16 start date. And that sucks.

Maybe a Jimmy Buffett dance party is in order to set this day up right.

Well, that doesn't seem to be helping at all. The ocean sounds aren't making me feel better, they're making me want to go to the beach. Hey, that's not a bad idea at all. Didn't I move to Georgia because I'd be closer to the beach? It's a totally legitimate long-weekend destination. For the love, I NEED THE BEACH!

And when I got to work? I called my husband and said just that. His response?

Splash Resorts in Panama City Beach.*

We're shooting for April.

I can't wait.

*Ordinarily I would be against this, as I am not a big 'high rise on the beach' kind of person. I prefer secluded spots, where there aren't a ton of people around to bug me while I'm trying to relax. But I am also very realistic. And for an April long-weekend trip to the Panhandle, with Brigid in tow? The place that's walking distance to my favorite doughnut shop and attached to it's very own Alvin's Island is more than perfect for me.

Please ignore the crazy in the corner...

So, Brigid woke up a little warm on Sunday morning. But she always wakes up a little warm, because she is a sweet and snuggly little baby, and that's how they wake up. So, I didn't think much of it.

Then, she kind of refused to eat for most of the day. And I started to get a little nervous.

And when I went to get her undressed for dinner (Because, yes, my kid eats dinner naked. It's self-preservation, really...I can only handle so many items of stained clothing, after all.), she felt even warmer than she had earlier in the day. So I took her temperature, under her arm of course, because I was not about to subject her to a thermometer in any of the more recommended places, if I didn't have to. And it came back a little high at 99.4. And after fighting her way through a couple of bites of dinner, Steve took her temperature a second time, and it came in a little over 100.

So, we broke out the big guns, and took the thermometer to places we didn't want to have to take it. And Brigid was not pleased.

Not that I blame her. At ALL.

It came in somewhere over 101, and the freak out officially began. I twittered, I googled, I considered calling the pediatrician.

And Brigid looked at me like I was an idiot, as she ran naked and giggling around her bedroom.

So we gave her some Publix-brand-Tylenol-substitute, put her down in some short-sleeved pjs, and kissed her good night. I asked Steve to check on her before we went to bed. I considered waking her up to recheck her temperature and give her more medicine. I thought about taking her sleep sack off of her.

Steve checked on her and said she was sound asleep. He said that I was maybe overreacting, and that Brigid was probably fine. He said he'd take her to the pediatrician in the morning if she still had a fever.

He called me the next morning after Brigid woke up, and she was fine. He took her temperature periodically throughout the day, just to be sure (to the point that when he pulled out the thermometer before her bath last night, she ran from him with a look of panic on her face), and it was fine. She ate like a champ. She went to the car dealership with him. She admired the vroom vrooms, and made jokes in the car on the way home.

Moral of the story? I am crazy.

And Brigid is going to hate me when she gets older.

Just one more thing to make me nuts...

According to most child development websites (or whatever you'd call the sites that Google pulls up when you search 'what age do kids start talking?'), most babies start using actual words between 14-16 months. Meaning, right now, at 15 months and a couple of weeks, Brigid should have a word or two that Steve and I can recognize. But she doesn't.

Ordinarily, this wouldn't bother me, because with every milestone so far, I've pretty much figured she'd get to it when she got to it. And she has. But, when I took her in for her 12-month check-up, the pediatrician asked me if she was trying to repeat any words that she heard, and when I said no, she kind of glossed over it and moved on. And because I am paranoid, I took that to mean we were missing out on something already.

And now, I have her 15-month check-up scheduled for Friday, and I can already see the paperwork I have to fill out asking me to write down any words that Brigid can say, and I can see the pediatrician asking me if she's talking at all, and I can see her looking at me when I say no.

And I can see myself getting flustered and trying to explain how, I swear, one time she said 'nose'! When pointing at her nose! And I think sometimes she says 'stuck' when pulling on the faucet in the bathtub, because that's what I said to show her that it doesn't come off. And she definitely makes something along the lines of a 'vroom vroom' noise when playing with her toy car. That totally counts, right?!?!?

And since we're closing in on the 16-month mark, which is the age that Google says a pediatrician will request additional testing if your child isn't talking yet, I can see ourselves adding developmental doctors to the list of physicians we are familiar with in the Atlanta area. And I really, really, really don't want to have to do that.

In all reality, I don't think there is anything wrong with Brigid. I think she has her own way of getting her point across, and it's worked for her so far, and she just doesn't have any need for words right now. And our pediatrician is not really an alarmist when it comes to developmental milestones. But still...Google starts throwing around words that you don't want to see, and it's hard not to get worked up when you think your child might be falling behind. Already. At just over a year old.

That sound you hear? That's me banging my head against the wall, while telling myself to get over it already. I blame Google. And I blame myself for Googling, when I know I shouldn’t. It makes me ridiculous, even when I know I’m being ridiculous.

Like this parenting stuff wasn't already stressful enough...

Crazy

I was thinking about writing an entire post consisting of nothing but  

redrum redrum redrum redrum redrum redrum redrum redrum redrum redrum redrum redrum redrum redrum redrum redrum redrum redrum redrum redrum redrum redrum redrum redrum redrum redrum redrum redrum redrum redrum redrum redrum redrum redrum redrum redrum redrum redrum redrum redrum redrum redrumredrum redrum redrum redrum redrum redrum redrum redrum redrum redrum redrum redrum redrum redrum redrum redrum redrum redrum redrum redrum redrum redrum redrum

a la The Shining, because I have been iced into my house since Sunday night.  But I thought that something along those lines might frighten people, even if it does accurately depict my current mental state.  I thought it might be a little more honesty than people are currently looking for from me.  

So I refrained.

And besides, I know it's not a good mental health practice to focus on the negatives in life.  Instead, I am going to accentuate the positives.  Which are, as follows:

1) I have been home to get Brigid up every morning for almost a week.  That's a nice change from the month before, when there were times I went a couple of days without seeing her at all.

2) I've spent quality time working from home, across the kitchen table from my dear husband, who was out of town on business last week.

3) My in-laws came down before the storm started, so my mother-in-law would be available to watch Brigid if Steve and I had to go to work, and she's been on hand to handle the bulk of the baby duties, while Steve and I have been working at the aforementioned kitchen table.

4) Because our office has been closed due to the weather, even the working from home has been slower than normal.  This has left me with plenty of time to accomplish things around the house, with the help of my mother-in-law.  As a result?  The basement playroom is clean and the great toy migration of 2011 has begun.  We are now only one large rug away from being finished, and Brigid will be forever banished to the basement.  I can't wait for my family room to look a little less like a disorganized daycare.

5) We never lost power, we had plenty of food, and we didn't run out of coffee.  

6) I am sufficiently up-to-date on my various PBS shows, including Sesame Street and Curious George.

 

7) The sun is out, the roads are warming up, and for the love of all that is good, I WILL GET OUT OF THIS HOUSE TOMORROW!  

And that, my friends, is something to be very, very thankful for.

The Nanny Diaries, Part 367

Well, hello. What's that you say? Nanny interviews? Again? Sure, why not! I never get tired of asking strangers questions about what kind of childcare activities they've participated in over the last few years, how they feel about watching a toddler and two ridiculously poorly behaved dogs all day, whether they're happy with their current living/employment situation, and what additional strangers I may call to verify that they're not feeding me a line of bull just to get into my house and neglect my child while stealing my liquor (or whatever it is that bad nannies do).

I don't have a lot to complain about when it comes to this whole parenting process. Seriously, Brigid is a dream child right now...she's cute, she's funny, she gives me an excuse to listen to Christmas music around the house twenty-four hours a day. Sure, she's just starting to touch the toddler tantrum stage, but it hasn't reached the point that we've been subjected to any full blown meltdowns (yet), so it's still manageable. I could do without the whole diaper part of the equation, but it's not something that I wasn't expecting.

However...trying to find someone to pawn my childcare responsibilities off on one day a week is really starting to wear on me. A lot. I already feel guilty for working Monday-Thursday, since I was raised by a stay-at-home-mother (a very good one, I might add...hi, mom!), and having to go through this process every couple of months? It kind of stinks. It's like I get a quarterly reminder that I am cheating my child out of the full mother experience by not being home. And have you met me? I am an experience she needs to not be cheated out of...

I miss my kid when I'm not at home. But I also enjoy going into work (most of the time). I like my company. I like finance. I like spreadsheets.

I like having an excuse to wear a skirt and heels a couple of days a week.

(Yes, I did just admit that I like working in an office because of the clothes. So what of it?)

So, I don't want to be a mom who works outside the home. But I don't want to be a full-time stay-at-home mom, either. But sometimes I do, actually. Because I go back and forth on this at least once a week. Usually internally. But sometimes, not.

And I'm beginning to see why Steve referred to me as his headache box a couple of days ago (long story...but it totally made sense in context, I swear). I understand. My head, it's an exhausting place to be.

Oh well, I suppose it's all about making the best of what's in front of you. Maybe someday, the ideal situation will present itself, and I will be head over heels in for it, and I will be the happiest person in the world.* In the meantime, I will continue to pull hope from my back-up plan, the one where we just win the lottery, move to the beach, and no longer worry about any of this stuff because we won the lottery and live on the beach. I like that plan.

　

*Or, I will just find something new to complain about, which, if I'm being completely honest, is actually the more likely of scenarios.

Road Trip Fail

Even before Brigid came along, I was not a good person to have along on a road trip.  Just ask my dear husband.  I either spent my time reading, sleeping, or involving Steve in obnoxious conversations that somehow ended up with us arguing over something that neither of us really cared about, but that neither of us was going to back down from, either.

I was a joy.

And now that Brigid is along for the ride, let's just say the addition of a baby to the mix did not make things any better.  In fact, I'm not sure what the highlight of our trip from Georgia to Indiana was this past weekend...

Was it the Chick-Fil-A for breakfast, followed by the Arby's for lunch that I fed my poor, malnourished toddler?  Was it the stop at the Opry Mills outlet mall to let that same poor, malnourished, and now sleep-deprived toddler stretch her legs, which we only discovered was still closed due to the Nashville flood after we drove several miles out of our way?  Was it the diaper change that had to take place in the backseat of the car because our stop didn't include a bathroom with a changing table, the one that ended in Brigid peeing all over my seat because I didn't get the clean diaper under her fast enough?  Was it the stop at the Jim Beam distillery (a must see for any fourteen month old), where Brigid fell, hit her head, and started hysterically crying, to the point that she couldn't catch her breath, and every employee in the Jim Beam gift store came over to try to offer ways to make her feel better (including a little taste of Jim Beam, of course...)?  Was it the Baby Einstein video we threw in for the last hour of the trip to zombiefy our grouchy kid, who wanted nothing more than to be out of the car?

Oh yeah, from start to finish, our drive north was full of parenting fail.  I can only imagine how much fun the return trip is going to be...

Since when does the thought of a vacation cause MORE stress?

So, remember last weekend, when we went to Indiana, and Brigid took her first plane trip? And then, remember on Tuesday, when I promised you that I'd post pictures and a quick little recap of said trip, because it seemed like just the kind of event I started this blog for, what with the whole 'documenting baby's life' and everything? And then, remember how yesterday, I didn't do it because it was Brigid's eleven month birthday, and I talked about that instead?

Well, I'm not doing it today, either.

I know, I know...I am a walking baby-book failure. I make big plans, and then it seems like nothing ever gets done. But, I really do follow through with things! I swear! Most of the time!

Eventually.

Sometimes, it just takes me a little longer than it should. And after all of this dithering, you will come back tomorrow, read my recap, look at my crappy cell phone pictures, and wonder why in the heck I talked so much about something that was such a non-event. But you will deal with it. Because my kid is adorable, and you want to read about all of her adorableness. Or you will give up on me, and you will deal with it by not coming back, because no amount of adorableness is enough to put up with me and my insane ramblings.

Either way, I'm good with it.

Instead, today, I'm going to tell you about the never-ending nanny search we have embarked on once again. Oh yes, wasn't I all cutely optimistic last week, talking about how the girl we didn't hire during the second round of interviews was still interested in the job, and weren't we so lucky to not have to go through round three? Well, she's not so interested in it anymore. It turns out, she picked up a second job between the first and second time I talked to her, and she thought she could work her schedule around all three jobs, but she can't. And she sent me an email about it this weekend, while we were out of town. And we're going out of town again next week. So I had/have all of about four days to line up a replacement for the week we get back from vacation.

So, no pressure or anything.

We did two interviews Tuesday night, and one interview Wednesday night. We seem to have some good candidates, again, which is nice, but there's not really one that stands head and shoulders above the others, which sucks. Because it means I have to do more of the pro/con decision making that I really don't have the time or brain capacity for these days. But, I will persevere. I will call references on Friday. I will debate the merits of each, most likely with myself. I will make a wine fueled decision about my child's well-being at my drinking/painting outing with my sister-in-law on Friday night. And I will have a nanny lined up before we leave for vacation on Sunday.

Because a rushed, wine fueled decision is exactly what a good mom does when hiring a childcare provider, no?

I really hope whoever we pick this time sticks around for awhile. I really don't think I can handle going through this process again.

Breakdown? Me? No way...

Tomorrow is the big day. The big trip. The big flight. The first time on a plane with the baby.

And I am about to lose my mind.

Seriously, I have approximately 45 lists I'm working through right now...things I need to pack for me, things I need to pack for Brigid, things I need to buy to pack for Brigid, things I may or may not need to buy for the day of the game, things that Steve keeps asking me to make decisions on that I don't currently have the brain capacity to make decisions on. (Editors note: It absolutely kills me to end a sentence with a preposition. Because I am a huge, huge nerd. But I literally do not have the ability to reword that sentence into a grammatically correct one at the present moment. Boo.) My mom asked me if I was getting excited for the trip. Right now? I kind of feel like I'll be excited when it's over. Of course, I know this is just an overreaction on my part, and once we land in Indiana tomorrow night, I'll be super excited for the weekend to start. I just need to get through tomorrow afternoon, first.

But I don't think it's going to be an easy thing to do. Steve did a test run with Brigid last night, sitting on the couch, and forcing her to sit with him. Let's just say it did not go particularly well. Brigid has never really been a 'sit still' kind of kid. So that's something to look forward to. The one small hope that I'm still clinging to, the one small hope that is keeping any shred of sanity still intact, is that this will be an entirely new experience and a completely different environment for her, and I pray that this will be enough to buy us at least 30 minutes of quiet cooperation. Beyond that, I've got nothing. Except for A LOT of baby snacks.

Oh, the heart palpitations are starting. Good times.

To make matters worse (and to make myself more crazy, just for kicks), my mind has decided to distract me from the travel planning by forcing me to plan Brigid's first birthday. I am trying to put it off until after this weekend. I want to put it off until after this weekend. I had planned to put it off until after this weekend. And yet, because I can't entirely wrap my mind around the travel preparations for this weekend, I keep compulsively checking miscellaneous party supply websites and party planning blogs to get ideas for the big Elmo themed bash we will be throwing in a month. And speaking of lists, you should see that one. Hoo boy, good times.

And to top it off, I can't concentrate on work because I have all of these thoughts running through my head every moment of every day. And I need to concentrate on work because I am going on vacation in two weeks (MORE PACKING LISTS!!! FTW!!!). And I have deadlines that will be hitting while I'm out. And I have a three-day work week next week in which to complete all of said work that needs to be done by said deadlines.

So, basically, what I'm saying, in the absolutely whiniest way possible, is that I'm tired, people. I'm tired, and I don't like to fly. I'm tired, I don't like to fly, and vacation can't get here fast enough.

I'm tired, I don't like to fly, vacation can't get here fast enough, and I need a pensieve to drain off and organize some of these thoughts for my own sanity.

What? Harry Potter? No?

I told you I was a nerd.