Oreo Diet

I've decided I'm on the oreo diet.  It includes oreos, double stuffed oreos, and the SHUT THE FRONT DOOR oreos.  Yum!!!  And since being on this diet as of today, I've already noticed one cool thing: double stuffed oreo cookies actually have stamped on them that they are double stuffed!  See, being on an all sugar diet isn't a bad thing!  I still have my attention to detail :-)

I should add here that I'm not on a soley oreo diet, because that would be crazy.

I dip the cookies in milk, so I'm getting my dairy too. 

And I've passed on my cookie addiction to my daughter.  I have plenty of examples.

Exhibit A:

Exhibit B:

Needless to say, she cares more about chips ahoy than oreos, but either way, she still loves cookies.  Just like her mother! 

I don't feel like I'm a bad influence if that's what you're thinking.  At least I'm not feeding her crack or anything.  Or actual cookies for that matter. 

But I, on the other hand, am sticking to my chocolate cookie with cream filling!

Let's do the Time Warp

It feels like forever since the last time I posted a blog... maybe because it has been FOREVER!  A lot has happened in the last week.  I survived my first earthquake, babysitting the neighbor kids (talk about a crack up!), my daughter's first real sickness and trip to the ER, a hurricane, my husband returning and you know, the usual... life.

And it feels like every time I get ready to type something up, I get easily distracted... by something, you know, shiney.  And then I blink and it's 10 days later.

It seems as though the entire time I was pregnant and my life before having a baby was fast pace.  But now that I've had a baby, it feels like life is flying by at warp speed!  Already 6 months has flown by and my baby girl rolls over, sits up on her own, eats food, and waves 'hi.'  I'm sure next week she'll be wearing high heels, asking to borrow my car and drive to the mall to hang out with her friends.  Shoot me now.

Plus, I have less than 90 days left of my military career.  It feels like 7 years has FLOWN by.  It feels like yesterday I was headed off to bootcamp and doing a buttload of push-ups.  And even though I haven't gotten to do everything I wanted during my time in the Navy, I've still gotten to do a ton of awesome things and go to a ton of amazing places! 

I just wish there was a way to put life back on the play button rather than on fastforward.  I most certainly don't want a rewind button, but maybe a slow motion option.  Ultimately, I just don't want to be going through a time warp, I want time to smell the roses.  Not that I like smelling roses, or have any for that matter, but if I had time to, that would be cool. 

So if anyone has a way to slow things down, please let me know!

Role Reversal

As my bio description states, I'm hooking for jobs and pimping myself out in resume form. On top of that I'm saying prayers daily that I some how don't end up homeless and unemployed.  I'm in the process of getting out of the military.  It wasn't my choice, and if I had it my way, I would have served 20+ years.  But my fate is sealed and I'm on my way out due to budget cuts and the changing tide of the Defense Department. 

It happens.  In fact it's happening so much the military as a whole is in a major downsizing.  Worse, is the number of unemployed veterans from the current wars.  The latest unemployment numbers for vets right now are sitting at nearly 12%.  That's about 3 percentage points more than the overall unemployment rate. 

So to keep myself from those statistics I'm a job hunting, networking fool.  Any chance I get, I work into the conversation that I'm getting out of the military and looking for a job, plus I rock.  Why wouldn't someone want to hire me? 

And not every day has been a good one.  There are some days where I think to myself, "Betty, what the hell are you doing applying for that job? You aren't nearly qualified for it, and there's no way you're going to get it.  You're just a crazy kid!" But then I realize, I have nearly 10 years of experience in my field.  I've been doing this for a long time.  And I'm pretty good at it.  Plus I rock!

If you've never applied for a federal job before, let me tell you what it's like.  It's tourture.  Getting waterboarded would be more fun. You need to tailor your resume to each individual job.  Then you have to answer a laundry list of questions.  Half the questions are the same, just reworded differently.  It's not fun.  And then you submit everything and wait weeks to even hear back if you're resume made the cut.

The worst part is when you get a notification that you're qualified, but not best qualified.  What the hell does that even mean? You're good, but you still suck for us.  Nothing like an upper for your Thursday morning. 

Well, all the hard work of applying has finally started to pay off.  I've gotten a couple calls and recieved notice my resume has made it through the first round of cuts.  Now it's time to start getting ready for interviews.

I've been interviewing people on various subjects for 7 years.  I'm pretty darn good at asking questions and getting the exact soundbite I want for my story.  But being the person peppered with questions is something totally foreign to me. 

I'm so scared that they're going to ask me what my biggest weakness is and I'm going to launch into some crazy ass story that ends in my crying over spilled breast milk.  Or worse, I make a completely inappropriate joke about somebody's inept organizational skills and it turns out it's my prospective employer's desk I'm making fun of.  Or WAY worse, I ask the woman escorting me to the interview room how far along she is, and she replies she's just fat.  UGH! 

Needless to say, I'm super nervous about interviewing for a job.  It's an employer's market, not a job seeker's market.  And I just need to prove that I'm the shit (but don't smell like shit)! So the rest of my day today will be spent buying 10 pairs of nylons (because I'll rip a whole in 9 of them just trying to get into them), researching the job and employer, and pattening my P&P method.  (That would be the pray and puke method.)

In the end, I know this is just my way of getting "hyped up" for the game.  And that I'll actually be just fine and will find a great place to work that pays well, has good benefits, gives me all the federal holidays off, and enjoys my witty sense of humor.  Now, if only they'd just reveal themselves to me so I can stop P&Ping. 

A Spoonful of Slop

Tonight Elly hit another exciting milestone: eating soupy food from a spoon!

I was trying to hold off just a little while longer, but she wasn't having it. Whenever she reaches the end of a bottle she gets upset and wants more.

She's her mother's child.

I mean, who doesn't get disappointed when they polish off an IHOP pancake combo meal with pancakes, eggs, hashbrowns, bacon, and sausage? And when you're faced with that situation and feeling exceptionally gluttonous? Well of course you drive through Checkers next door and get a milkshake and fries!

(Let me add that I didn't eat anything else that day. And I made sure to eat salad the next day. Please don't report me to Child Protective Services as a terrible nursing mom! And let me also add that I wasn't alone in my fat-fest, Abby and our friend Fabz joined us and we had just attended a friend's funeral so we needed comfort food. Yes, I'm trying to rationalize eating my weight in pancakes. I'd prefer if you don't judge me, but I'll understand if you do.)

So of course I can't hold it against my own daughter when she wants more food. Turns out, she LOVES food! SHOCKING!!!

It wasn't anything special, oatmeal, expressed milk and a little pureed prunes to add a nice, non-binding flavor. And she just couldn't get the spoon in her mouth fast enough!

She kept reaching out, grabbing the spoon and shoveling her slop into her mouth. She was excited and impatient because I wasn't shoveling fast enough! Obviously I've been hold her back from the good stuff all her life.

And even though she was ecstatic, I was through the roof, but a little sad. Because she's now onto the good stuff. I get to watch her experience new tastes and textures. But I've also got my work cut out for me.

Because just when I thought the oatmeal in the bottle couldn't cause a more disgusting outcome, I've realized this is only going to make things worse. Talk about a five-alarm diaper change!

All because I started adding a spoonful of slop to my daughter's diet. Awesome!


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Tinkling

On my ride to work this morning they talked about embarrassing childhood moments involving tinkling.

There can't be much worse in the way of embarrassing moments than peeing your pants.

The female host talked about the time she couldn't hold it in 3rd grade and it reminded me if the kid in first grade who couldn't hold it. And how mortifying that must have been for him. I still remember him, his name, and that he peed his pants.  That sucks to go to school with someone with a great memory like me. Poor guy!

What's even more cringe worthy was the girl in bootcamp that was too meek, shy, and afraid of the drill instructors to ask to go to "the head." She peed herself in the parking lot after dinner in front of 60 other individuals. I was the closest, but thankfully wasn't directly hit.

It was my job, however, to help her back to the barracks and get her through the embarrassment. Thankfully, our drill instructors felt too bad to make her feel worse. This girl already had enough self-esteem issues. No need to make it worse.

But the radio show host asked callers to regale the listeners with other cringe worthy stories.

I'm fortunate enough where I don't have stories like those from my childhood. However, adulthood and pregnancy are a whole other story!

No one tells you that you're going to pee your pants every time you sneeze while pregnant. And certainly no one tells you that even after you have the baby, and no matter how many kegel exercises you did, you're still going to pee your pants at every sneeze and laugh.

And no one warned me that I shouldn't discover Damn You Auto Correct when I'm one kegel away from being incontinent.  Needless to say, when I discovered the best of for each month, I laughed so hard I actually peed a little.  What sucks more is that those things are so fucking funny, that I just couldn't stop reading.  They're worse than Lays potato chips.  You can't stop at just one. 

I actually had to restrict myself for a few months until I could make sure I regained control of my urinary tract.   

And that's what's so important for new moms to know.  Is that no matter how many kegels you do, it's still going to be a little while before you can laugh your ass off without pissing yourself.  And even then, you need to make sure you hit the bathroom before a big laughfest, or else you could find yourself feeling like the poor kid in 1st grade who peed his pants in front of everyone.  But worse, because adults remember that kind of crap way better than children do! 

Stuck in the Stone Age

Last week my computer crashed. It just up and stopped working with no warning. Usually you get a few blue screens of death to tell you the end is near. Not this time.

And the day after that, I smashed my phone into the ground. I've done this plenty of times before, but as luck would have it, it was my time to reduce my iPhone screen to a web of cracks.

Add in not being at work much, plus my work computer getting moved and refigured so I don't have access and you've got Betty Rubble trying to use a chisel and slate to creat an email.

I tried to get my computer fixed, but the motherboard was fried. I'd like to get my phone fixed but I can't until I back it up because I would actually die if I lost all my pictures and contacts.

As a back up to the back up, I was able to pull out my old computer from college and plug that in for basic email and word processing. But as my mother says, "your computer really sucks."

Trying to surf the web is more like surfing in a tide pool. Watching paint dry is faster and more exciting than using my computer.

And really, I can't blame the computer. It's 10 years old!!! My god, it has a zip drive and no CD burner!!! It's got two decade-old hamsters in there powering it up. (I actually pictured two gray-haired, out of shape hamsters in there, sad they just got called out of retirement)

The thing should probably be in a museum.

And why do I still have my computer from 2001? I was just too lazy to take it to the recycling center for the last few years of weekends I've had available. I'm actually just that lazy.

But as it turns out, that laziness has worked in my favor. Because even though I can't plug in more than two items with USB ports, and getting more than one program to run at the same time is a challenge, or I can hear my mom muttering about the "shitty ass computer," I can still say I have a computer.

For now I'll just do what I can from my relic, and risk injury to my beautiful fingers from my now razor sharp phone until the computer fairy shows up with something shiny.

Little does my husband know that I expect him in a tutu when he brings back his laptop from WA!

Let's just hope nothing else crashes or I don't sustain a thumb injury in the meantime.


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

One of THOSE Parents

So I've realized I'm one of THOSE parents.  You know the kind where the kid is eternally embarrassed because the kid's mom is running around the ball park with six giant buttons of the kid's face on her wannabe letterman's jacket with the kid's name and number on it, face paint stickers to match the cheerleaders, screaming at the top of her lungs with pride, joy and pure fanatical, unsportsmanlike slurs at the umpires?  Yeah, I'm pretty sure that's going to be me. 

My daughter is just a wee 5 months old and I already know that's what kind of mom I am. 

This week has been the start of the Little League World Series.  And I'm totally sucked in like it's my own American Idol.  I find myself walking into the house and seeing another game is on and getting really into.  Like REALLY into it.  Every time there's a good play, I'm cheering on the team.  Any time there's a big play, a big hit, or a crazy call at the plate, I'm cheering.  When it's the bottom of the 6th (last inning in LL), and the team up to bat has 2 outs and they need a run or two to keep going, I get teary eyed thinking of the pressure that poor little kid is under to do his best.  And then I start crying thinking, my god, I'm going to have a kid in just a few years that will be playing in important games like this.  And I'm going to be a crazy wreck!

I'm crying over a kid that's not mine, I've never met, and I don't even know what his name is.  I just know I want him to get a hit so he can keep playing the game he loves!  And again, THIS ISN'T MY KID!

So what kind of basket case am I going to be when Elly is up to bat and the game is up to her?  I'm going to need to be escorted from the field, that's what I'm going to be.  Because if I see a ball coming across the plate that I don't think is a strike and the ump calls it as such, I'm going to probably hop the dugout and rip his eyes out.  Doesn't he know that he's doing that to MY baby?!?! 

And if the ump even thinks of calling her out when she's clearly just slid into home and was safe, I might get arrested for kicking the crap out of him.  Because I'm already that involved in the game. 

These kids playing in the LLWS are amazing!  They have so much heart and passion.  They are still just playing for the love of the game.  It's like watching the Sandlot over and over and I love it!

I'm a passionate sports fan.  When we win my spirits are sky high.  When we lose I'm in the dumps.  I'm invested and even if I'm not playing, my heart is still in it because I'm in the stands or on my couch (usually jumping on it) cheering.  Because that's what fans do! 

So in a few years, if you're at the ball park, football field, or ice rink and you see a crazy ass Betty running around with face paint, foam finger and cow bell, just know that's me and if you get in the way of my kid, I'll kick your ass. 

Being an Adult Rocks!

Yesterday afternoon I discovered that being an adult rocks.  While driving home from Best Buy, I got a text message from my BFF, Abby.  Turns out she's one car behind me on her way home too! YAY!

So we discuss the fact we're both in the High Occupancy Vehicle lane with only one passenger in each car and we cook up what our excuse will be when we get pulled over for breaking the law.  Let's just say her excuse was way better than mine and I'll be using that one now as well. 

Then she confesses this random gem to me: "So I just ate a quarter pound of deli meat straight out of the bag."

Mind you we're driving down the road while she declares this fact.  My response? Convulsing in laughter because I can honestly picture her reaching back into her grocery bag, pulling out the deli meat package, ripping it open like a ravenous beast and tearing into the tasty goodness that is smoked peppercorn turkey.

Our conversation goes a little something like this:
A: "I have so little will power!"

B: "Don't worry, I'm not judging you! I'm actually a little jealous I don't have deli meat to eat right now."

A: "I could pull up alongside of you and try and toss it in your window."

B: "Could you actually imagine us trying to pull that stunt? It would be hilarious! It's cool if it gets on the windshield, I'll still eat it and I think I could still get to it depending on where it lands."

A: "MMMM, windshield meat."

B: "And don't worry about the bugs, it's just extra protein!"

A: "I'm not going to be able to do this when I have kids.  I'll have to set an example!"

And that's when I remembered something my mom told me the night before.

My mom got a new iPhone and we were discussing games for her to download on it.  She was interested in getting Angry Birds and I told her she needed to be careful, because once she starts playing it, people will think she has turrets and it's incredibly addicting.  I asked her if she remembers when Tetris came out and how addicting it was.  And how you just had to keep playing because you know you can get to the next level.  That's what Angry Birds was like, but with more swearing.

My memory of Tetris and when Nintendo first came out was that she didn't want my sister and me playing too much.  Video games were junk and we didn't need to rot our brains on them. 

And then she spilled this dirty little secret.  She used to rush home on her lunch breaks when we were in school so she could play the Nintendo!  She would take her hour lunch, spend a half hour driving back and forth, and the other half hour playing Mario Brothers.  Then when she got back to work, she'd compare notes with her co-workers so they could get to the next level.

My mom is a closet GAMER! Are you kidding me? That's why she didn't want us playing, she was too busy secretly playing. 

And then it dawned on me.  Abby and I weren't going to have to stop our dirty little secret of eating deli meat straight out of the bag on the car ride home from the grocery store once our kids are in the car.  We just had to do it when they weren't looking!

So not only can you eat cookies for breakfast and ice cream for dinner, but you can also be a huge hypocrite to your kids and they don't even need to know about it until 20 years later!  That's why being an adult totally rocks!!!!

Nights of Torture

I was afraid to write this blog a few days ago.  I didn't want to jinx myself.  In fact, I'm actually still a little nervous to type what I'm about to type: my daughter finally sleeps through the night!

Now that I've put it out there, I'm sure that she'll get wind of it, figure out that she's still in control if she throws a fit, and we'll probably be back at square one tonight.  But until then, I'll just say this, Elly sleeping through the night + me sleeping through the night = SLEEP IS FUCKING GLORIOUS!!!!

I forgot how much I loved it!  I seriously forgot all about the amazing nights of sleep I used to get more than a year ago when I could just zonk out as soon as my head hit the pillow.  What's really terrible is that I took sleep for granted. (I'll never make that mistake again!)

Once I got pregnant that all changed.  I was as fat as a cow (news flash, fat cows don't sleep, they're too fat) and little did I realize then, that I would become an actual dairy cow (dairy cows don't sleep either because they're up all night making milk)! 

Last week I had a 3 day weekend.  So what better time to celebrate than to tell my daughter it's bed time so suck it up, be a big girl and CRY IT OUT!   Mom needs some sleep!

The first night was pretty much pure torture for her, me and my mom.  She woke up and screamed bloody murder.  Scream and scream and scream.  Here's your binky now shut the hell up kid! (I didn't actually say that to her, I think it was more like ssshhhh! and aldfkjosaduflkjdf adlkfjosdif because I was about 3/4ths asleep.)  She had a rough Friday and had a few naps, which is unusual for my kid. I, however, did not get a nap because mommies don't get naps. (In case you were wondering, that's also not in the baby books.)

But a funny thing happened on night two.  She only woke up twice and they weren't very long meltdowns.  Just a couple shhh's and popping the binky back in and TA DA! We've got sleep! 

And even better yet, by night three she slept all the way until 5:30 AM! Holy crap! That's like a miracle!  She's finally gotten the hang of it and I get my sleep back. 

Who knew that a few nights of torture could feel this good?! Now let's just hope she doesn't decide to punish me and stay up all night again.

Losing my hair... and my marbles

Before I got pregnant I had read that pregnant women have beautiful hair.  And for me, that was true.  My hair became so shiny and lustrous! It was beautiful and felt amazing!!!  I was already "blessed" with thick hair, but once I got pregnant, it was like I had a fortress of hair it was so thick!  And I couldn't stop petting my own head.  I must have looked like a freak, or P.Diddy stroking the furry wall.  Either way, my hair was gorgeous!

What the books forget to mention is that after you have the baby, all your hair falls out.  And when I say all your hair, I mean ALL YOUR HAIR!  Every day I find myself checking to make sure I don't have a bald spot where I just brushed.  My shower looks like Big Foot just got attacked by Edward Scissor Hands.  It's bad.  I've gotten to the point where I just collect all the hair in a little giant ball, rather than let it go down the drain because otherwise we're going to have a huge pluming problem! 

And then when I get out and actually brush my hair... forget it.  It's everywhere.  I feel like the sad, pathetic duckling that's molting and thinks it's the ugliest thing on the planet.  The problem is, I'm pretty sure I'm not about to emerge as a swan.  My swan hair was during pregnancy.  This whole ugly duckling thing is going in reverse for me and it sucks. 

On top of the "Great Shed of 2011" I'm also starting to grow some of the hair back.  So now I have all these crazy, wispy hairs that are half curly, half straight sticking out of my head everywhere.  They almost look like wayward pubes.  Sick! I have pubes on my head!!!!

To top it all off, I'm also losing my mind.  I also read during my pregnancy that women usually get "pregnancy brain" and can't remember things.  And I was told that this usually lasts for awhile after the baby is born, or can possibly be permanent.  Terrific!  So not only am I losing my beautiful hair and growing pubes instead, I also can't remember why I'm so upset about pubes.  Or remember where I just put the check book that's sitting in front of me, or remember that I have an appointment at some point sometime this week somewhere for some ailment that's been bothering me but that I can't remember what it is for the life of me today.  And the calendar I was doing so well at tracking everything in? Yeah, I have no idea where it's at so I'm now completely lost. 

If this is what it's like to get old, just shoot me now.  If it gets worse, I don't know what I'll do.  Actually, I probably won't do anything because I won't even remember that I'm upset that I can't remember.  What really worries me is what happens if I have another baby?  I honestly don't think my brain can take another blow like that.  I know my pube-hair cant!  Could you imagine molting pube-hair? Good God! What grows back to replace that crap???  I can't even begin to imagine! 

If I would have known I was going to be losing this much hair and my marbles, I probably would have invested in wigs and post-it notes.  Ahhh, the things my mother, and pretty much every other woman on the planet that has a kid, forgot to tell me about.  Elly just better behave during her teen years, or I might just forget to tell her these important facts!  Enjoy your swan hair while you've got it because it'll turn into pube-hair, and you'd better get a good calendar/ post-it system in place and attach it to your body if you ever plan on remembering anything after you have a baby kido!!!!

Until later
~Betty

It's All About Perspective

Yesterday was not a good day. A friend, and coworker, was killed in a car accident on her way to work. She left behind a husband, daughter and countless family and friends.

As the day unfolded and more details of the senseless tragedy were discovered, I couldn't help but realize how sad, yet calm I was.

I have lost a few family members but it's always been because of age and hasn't been sudden or unexpected. I've been incredibly fortunate to not know anyone personally stricken by tragedy... Until yesterday.

Because of this I don't really know how to deal with grief. But as it turns I was very calm throughout the day. I was able to take calls and get details and pass those details on to other coworkers. I was able to keep working, though I was distracted.

It wasn't until I drove home for the evening that I broke down. That's when it really hit me. Her husband and daughter would be getting home and she wasn't going to be meeting them there. They weren't going to be eating dinner as a family. Their lives are forever changed.

And then my mind began to race. What about my Elly? What if anything were to happen to me or my husband? How would she be? And I just kept thinking of my friend's daughter, who is so young and had so much more to learn from her mom. And I just couldn't stop thinking about my friend and praying for her family.

What I've realized is that none of my normal day to day worries really even matter. What matters is spending as much quality time as possible with the people you love the most. Because you truly never know what can happen and when your world could be changed forever.

It's been a real eye-opener and has put a lot of my life into perspective.

Until later
~Betty


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Pink or Blue? Does it even matter?

I work with a guy who's girlfriend is pregnant.  They decided to find out what the sex of the baby was and found out this week.  Break out the pink ribbon because it's a girl!  As exciting as that is, he's not excited.  He's moping around, sad that he's not having a boy.  Because he really, really wanted a boy.  Boo hoo.

Well guess what asshole, you get what you get!  And as my friend Abby said, ‘if you wanted to choose the sex, you should have gotten a puppy instead.’

During my pregnancy I dreamt I was having a boy.  I daydreamed I was having a boy.  And I wanted a boy.  I thought how fun it would be to watch my husband teach him how to do all sorts of awesome boy things and how rewarding it would be to teach him to be a gentleman to girls.  Plus, tutus aren't really my thing. 

But I also thought about how awesome it would be to have a little girl.  I could teach her how to be rough and tough, yet still look good in a dress.  And watch my husband get wrapped around her finger while he builds her a dollhouse and teaches her how to drive. 

In the end, I chose not to find out the sex during my pregnancy.  Because it didn't matter what came out, I was going to love it no matter what.  Plus there isn't exactly a very good return policy on it if you don't get exactly what you wanted.  And I can't even tell you how many times I heard people complain about how I wasn't finding out.

"What do you mean you're not finding out?  Aren't you curious?"  Well of course I am stupid, but that's what makes it fun!  Because there's a really good chance you're getting one or the other!  So what does it matter?

"Well how will I know what to buy you for a shower gift if I don't know what it is?" Hey dumbass, I'm registered for a reason.  Pick anything off the list and send it to me!   That's what I want and need, so that's what you should get me.

"But you'll have all this green and yellow stuff!" Yeah, so?  So did I when I was a baby because "back then" you COULDN'T find out.  And I turned out just fine!   In fact, I'm wearing a pink shirt today, so I obviously figured out what color was assigned to me because I'm a girl. Plus, there's a good chance I'm going to have more than one kid.  And if I have a boy next, I won't have to go out and buy all new stuff right away, because it's already gender neutrual!

"But I want to know!" Well guess what? You're not getting fat, puking your brains out, or getting stretch marks right now.  So you don't get to make the decision, I do!  So there!!!!

Ultimately, I'm thrilled I never knew.  When she finally came out and the doctor said 'IT'S A GIRL!' I didn't care, I was just so happy she was here and healthy.  She's now 5 months old and I couldn't imagine not having her in my life just the way she is.  She's perfect.

Until later
~Betty

Betty the Ferberizer

So my daughter hates to sleep.  It's literally torture for her (and for me) to put her to sleep.  She hates to take naps too.  We're talking 20 minutes here, 20 minutes there.  If not sleeping was a competition on Survivor she'd out wit, out last, and out play everyone, even Richard Hatch!

I read an article awhile back about people who are considered "short sleepers." They basically just don't sleep and they're genetically wired to not sleep.  And the gene mutation can be realized at a young age... say in the toddler years.  (We've got about 12 months before we hit that range, but still...)

I also read an article today from one of my baby sites I follow that said babies in the range of 3-6 months should get at least 12-15 hours of sleep a day.  Uh yeah, about that... we're not even close!  In fact, we resist sleep so much (and I say we because when she's not sleeping, guess who else isn't sleeping? Yup, that's right, me.) that I have plenty of time for reading.  News articles, not books.  I don't have that much time.  Plus she tries to rip the pages out and eat them because they're crinkly.

So basically what we have here is a classic case of I've already voided the warranty of my kid.  Awesome, no returning her now.  She's spoiled goods.  Great!  Now I just have to figure out how to make the best of a sleepless situation. 

And that's called sleep training.  (Again, the news articles) Apparently there are plenty of different ways to sleep train your baby and they come with varying levels of difficulty.  Kind of like video games and trying to train a dragon.  The most common way, and the one my husband is a fan of, is the cry it out method. It's actually not called that, but that's how it's referred as by Ferber, the baby sleep expert apparently. (I should note that Stoofy is still across the country right now, so I'm all on my own with this sleep thing while he sleeps in on weekends.)  

So I'm supposed to just get her on a bed time routine. Check
Lay her in her bed as she's sleepy but not completely asleep.  Check
Let her try to fall asleep on her own. Check
Don't worry if she cries. Kinda check
Let her keep crying for 5 minutes.  Check
Come back in the room and soothe her but don't pick her up.  Check
Go back out of the room to let her cry some more. Sad check
Back in for another round of soothing.  Check
Back out for crying.  Teary check
How long is this supposed to last? Check
When can I finally pick her up? Check
I picked her up but she's still screaming! Check
Is she supposed to cry for an hour straight? Check
This is bullshit and I'm soothing her now! Check
Ferber, you're a fucktard and I'm now sobbing, she's been crying for more than an hour and it's taking her another 20 minutes to just calm down and relax enough to try and soothe her to finally doze off.

And if you think all that crying made her sleep through the night, you'd be dead wrong.  She woke up again like clockwork at 11, 1, and 5.  She doesn't get fed for all of those wake ups, and she doesn't get held every time either because honestly I need to give my arms a break.  But, she wakes up and starts screaming and crying every time. 

So not only do I have a gene mutated baby who's a short sleeper, but I also have a baby who is only 5 months and has night terrors.  Awesome, this is going to be awesome!  I hope I can mutate into a short sleeper too!

Until later
~Betty