Help

I know I have what, like 3 followers, but my three followers have quite a few followers and if you guys could repost this story I’d appreciate it.

I read a blog called www.reagansblob.com, her daughter was born with Cerebro Costo Mandibular Syndrome - I don’t know much about it aside from the fact that she cannot breathe on her own and has never lived outside of a hospital. She is currently in the process of being moved from the hospital she’s been staying in (and has been showing improvement in!) to a long term care facility. Piper was moved to a long term care facility in the past and almost died due to lack of proper care.

Reagan asked her readers to help, if they could. I don’t know anyone who could help her, but I thought if I could pass this story on to as many people as possible that hopefully someone will come across it who can help.

http://www.reagansblob.com/2011/03/146-miles/

Thank you.

Still in our pajamas, enjoying a quiet morning.

I may have given Elle a sip of my coffee - so this whole "quiet Saturday morning thing" could quickly spiral into something really crazy.

Happy Saturday!

Tub Poop

It started out being funny, but now it's just a pain in the A.

How do I get Elle to stop pooping in the tub? I knew she had to go tonight, I kept taking her out of the tub and putting her on the toilet but she wouldn't go. But sure enough, she took a big 'ol poo in the tub moments after getting back in.

Any tips would be helpful!

Mother of the Year

I pretty much let Elle play with anything (knives and guns aside). Before you call children’s services on me, know that it’s always supervised, but, in hindsight, there are some things she probably shouldn’t play with. For example, beads off of a broken bracelet. But the thing is, when she grabs them, she knows she’s not supposed to have them, and she gives them to me. I know she just as easily could put them in her mouth and choke, but she doesn’t. So there.

She did however choke once, on a cracker that I normally broke in half for her, but my husband didn’t know that, and she started to choke. In the dressing room of Banana Republic. With me screaming “Call the ambulance!!!” And my husband tipping Elle upside down to dislodge the cracker. Good times.

Side note: not my fault. I didn’t feed her the cracker.

Anywho, tonight, I let her play with her empty bottle of bath bubbles, it had a little water left inside, she tipped it upside down, drank the soapy water, gagged, coughed, and puked up her dinner.

Mother of the year, FTW! (For the win, dad...)

Cue lecture from my husband about how I let her play with things she shouldn’t play with.

I hate to have such a negative attitude about it, but honestly, if I only let her play with baby toys I’d get nothing done because I’d be taking things away from her left and right. Except knives and guns - I take those away from her. Duh.

Elleanor is a snarky little girl.

Today is Bryan's day to sleep in. One of us sleeps in on Saturday and the other on Sunday. She's been asking for him; "dada? dada?" and I respond "daddy's sleeping, he'll be up soon."

She has taken matters into her own hands and is throwing her toys down, on the hardwood floor, not in an angry way, but more in a "oops, my hand slipped and oh look, there goes my heaviest toy crashing onto the hardwood floor.... gee, I hope that didn't wake up dad."

Here's the thing. She didn't learn that from me. If I want to wake up Bryan I just go and wake him up.

You know who is really great at behavior like that though, the elder Eleanor.

Yup. Grandma Ellie is the queen of the "oh, I didn't do that..." or the "oh, I'm sorry, did I wake you?" she can pull it off because she then follows it up with "here, let me make you some homemade french toast, eggs, sausage, fruit, orange juice, waffles, pancakes, coffee.... what, your full? but I'm just about to make lunch!"

And then she hands you your clean clothes that you had no idea she took to wash but, wait a minute, she ironed your underwear and oh my gosh this is amazing, everyone should iron their underwear! And before long you've forgotten that she purposely slammed 3 doors to wake you up because, although you are 10 lbs heavier, you have the cleanest underwear this side of the Mississippi.

Aside from having to read this book while bathing she now takes a book with her when she squats to poop. Her squatting spot is in the kitchen, under the breakfast bar. I'm thinking that toilet training isn't that far off.

If the look on her face says "Get me out of this $&%^*ing thing" to you then you'd be correct. She hated it. The end.

Me = POS

Few things:

1. I'm going to change the name of this blog to "Yearly Elle" that way if I post things any more frequently than once a year I'll be doing pretty well.

2. I've literally been consumed with applying for/interviewing for/studying for a job as a high school guidance counselor at a high school in the area for the last 2 weeks (at least) and finally, after I thought they were going to ask for a drop of my blood, to name my next child after their superintendent, or perhaps, for me to submit to some sort of genetic screening they offered me the job. And I said no....

hahahahah just kidding, I said yes.

I'm pretty sure the only person they DIDN'T call to ask for a reference for me was the babysitter I had growing up. For real. They were calling people that I 1. did not tell them they could 2. did not give them the name of 3. did not give them the phone number of and 4. Ok, I don't have a four but holy FBI. All I have to say is good thing I have a squeaky clean background because I'm sure they know about that time my dad found a bottle of Bicardi Limon under the seat of my car but never told me about it. Hi Dad.

Elle was a little sick yesterday. On the way home from daycare I called her doctor to run through her symptoms, etc. They were supposed to call me back shortly, so I got home, was carrying her in when, what did she do but puked everywhere. E.V.E.R.Y.W.H.E.R.E. Literally 30 seconds later the phone rings, and I'm thinking "oh good, the Doctor is calling" and, I answer. With a moaning/fussy covered in puke baby in my arms. and who do you think it is Mr. FBI (AKA The superintendent) offering me the position. Can you say poor timing. So I talk to him for a bit, explain that I am covered in puke, he offers to call back, and I say "there's no way this is going to be cleaned up in a reasonable amount of time, so we can just talk now" and that was it.

Afterwards, when running through the story with Bryan he says "I wouldn't have answered the phone, you could have called him back." Well isn't hindsight just 20/20 Mr. You Didn't Have Puke All Over and Thought It Was The Doctor Calling to Help But Instead the FBI Called to Offer Me A Job So Shut Your Face

Anywho, in the picture above Elle is wearing my necklace, probably some lip gloss, and bronzer. These are her new favorite toys; my makeup and my jewelry. To say that both Bryan and I are terrified of what's to come is an understatement. She knows how to put makeup on, she knows where earrings go, she knows how to put on these necklaces, and will stand in my closet moving her arms back and forth through the clothes like she's trying to decide what to wear.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. I've created a monster.