Oh, that's a Nummy

At two months, infants are due for their first shots. And looking into the mirror in the examination room, I could tell I was much more nervous than Preston. My neck had turned a pale shade of pink with darker blotchy patches on every inch of visible skin. If only Preston knew what he was getting into, he wouldn't be so jolly.

The nurse politely asks to hold Preston and starts talking to him in a high-pitched voice saying, "You want your nummies don't ya? You love nummies. All babies love nummies." This is going to be better than I thought – the nurse is going to numb him before he's introduced to the needles of pain.

She then proceeds to feed him a liquid that resembles clear syrup. And I can't help but be a little confused – how is something the nurse is putting in Preston's mouth going to numb his hammies (a.k.a thighs, or ham hocks)?

So I ask her, "What is that stuff you are putting in his mouth?"

She replies, "This is his 'nummy', it's really sweet, so he should like it."

Okay, so that was NOT helpful. But then it dawned on me, his nummy wasn't going to numb him at all. This damn nummy was his oral vaccination. Nummy is baby speak for Yummy. (What? The word 'yummy' isn't baby-cutsie enough on its own? Is the 'n' sound much more appealing to babies than the 'y'?)

This nurse was twisted and clearly trying to fake us both out. What a mean trick to play on a first-time Mom who has no idea what all this baby lingo is about.

And just as my epiphany ends, the pain begins. As the first shot goes in Preston's hammy, his eyes get as big as fifty cent pieces, his mouth opens wide enough that I can practically see down this throat, and the loudest, most shrill sound flew out of his tiny little mouth. This is a cry of pain – a cry I have not heard before. This is not good for either of us.

Second shot. Third shot. A REAL BABY TEAR! A real Mommy tear. Fourth shot. Fifth shot. Band-Aids. Then an extra Band-Aid because Preston is bleeding so badly from his left hammy. The nurse finally leaves and I scoop up my distressed child.

Ten minutes later we've both calmed down and our on our way home. Preston crashes in the car and all I can think about is how badly I need a beer to calm my nerves.

I can hardly wait to do this all over again in two months. At least next time, I'll know what a 'nummy' is.

(And before you ask, YES, I totally saved his Band-Aids. Just like I saved his cord. And just like I save Jeremy's belly button fuzz.)

OMG, This Easter Bunny Gig is Like, So Overrated

That's right...I'm rolling my eyes. This is totally lame-o. I'm 2 months and 3 days old – if the other babies from the OSU nursery saw me here I'd get made fun of for like, ever.

And do you see how huge my melon looks? I'm all head and legs. Dumb bunny.

I'm Kinda Like These Guys

Flipping through stations this past Sunday I came across a Nascar race. I don't watch this sport, but I understand you make a left hand turn really fast, a number of times, with the goal of being the fastest. To stay in the race you need to refuel and get your tires changed, which is what is called a pit stop. The pit crew work at lightening speeds. They do their said jobs quicker than quick, like 13 seconds or something ridiculous, and the driver is on his way. I can totally relate.

At 4am when I hear Preston rumbling around in his bed, and sloppily attempting to suck any digit on his hand that may accidentally find it's way into his mouth, my adrenaline kicks in. This is my cue that he's on his way to waking up and will be ready to eat...it's a matter of seconds before he breaks out a squeal that can make your stomach turn. I've got less than 5 minutes. And I'm off!

Step 1: Go downstairs and turn on hot water.
Step 2: Get bottle out of fridge and add Mylicon drop.
Step 3: Fill up cup with hot water and dunk bottle into it.
Step 4: Go to bathroom. Drink a glass of milk.
Step 5: Dump water out of cup and add more hot water.
Step 6: Take cup with bottle upstairs.
Step 7: Get diaper and a wipe out of the changing table.
Step 8: Take bottle out of cup, test temp, then squeeze air out of liner.
Step 9: Get Preston out of his crib and onto the changing table.
Step 10: Unsnap 100 buttons to finally reveal his diaper, then change it.
Step 11: Snap the 100 buttons (The kid is usually on the verge of a meltdown at this point.)
Step 12: Pick up Preston and Boppy and settle into the rocker.
Step 13: Pick up bottle and insert into baby's mouth.
Step 14: Sigh. Success. Only 3 squeals. I don't think he's too far gone to not fall back asleep. I've won again!

You see, I'm the pit crew and Preston is the car. Diaper change...tire change. Refuel...refuel. And that's how I'm like those pit crew guys. Shake and bake baby, shake and bake.

Onesie Changing 101

Putting a onesie over a baby's head gracefully requires skill and swiftness. It also helps if the baby isn't squirming. But no matter how good you become, you are sure to encounter a set back every once in awhile. And if you are lucky, you'll have a camera around.

The Neglect-O-Matic...

is quickly becoming one of my most treasured baby gear items. (And up until late last week, Preston really didn't care for it.) Thanks to this thing, I can do a load of laundry AND wash bottles in one stretch. And the night before last, when Preston was inconsolable, this puppy put him to sleep by song #4.

I heart the Neglect-O-Matic.