Welcome Tristan

Dear Tristan,
I wish I had an exciting story to tell about the day that I went into labor, but I don’t. There was no mad dash to the hospital with the police on our tail or contractions in the back of a taxi. Instead, your father and I chose to induce the labor.

This was because the midwife was concerned that you were going to be over ten pounds by the due date and it would be better to have you sooner, than later. Turns out you were only 8.1, more of a cantaloupe than a watermelon.

The day that we went to the hospital Grammie came to watch your brother and we loaded the car with our overnight bags and set out to have a baby. My hands shook the whole way. This is because going into labor on your own, is sort of like being pushed off of a cliff. There’s only one way down and it’s not you that’s deciding to jump. When the labor is induced, it’s sort of like jumping off of a cliff, rather than being pushed and well, I’ve never been a huge fan of heights.

Once my labor started it started off slow. The hormone gel they had used was taking it’s time to trick my body into thinking it was time to have a baby. Your father and I walked the halls of the birthing center hoping to urge you on. At one point they realized that you weren’t exactly in the correct position and had me sit on the exercise ball on the side of the bed so that you would realign yourself and start preparing for exit. It was at that point that I started to cry. This is probably due to the hormonal changes, the fact that I was in extreme pain and the talk that the midwife had just given me about how we might just have to wait another day and start trying to induce again in the morning. When the Dr. came in to break my water, he asked why I was crying to which I responded… “I’m never going to have this baby” and burst into tears again. During this time, your father sat rubbing my back, no doubt thanking God almighty that he wasn’t the one having to birth you.

After my water was broken the contractions started. I dilated 4 centimeters in 45 minutes, which basically translates to a whole HELL of a lot of pain. When the anesthesiologist came into the room, I was never so glad to see anyone. After 4 tries he finally got the medicine in and the contractions started to subside. Then, we were on our way to having baby. It didn’t take you long to decide to come on out. After a few pushes however, your heart rate started to drop and the midwife told me we needed to get you out in two pushes because you were in distress. I was terrified that if I didn’t get you out then, that something would be wrong with you so when she said push, I gave it my all and you shot out like a bullet.

They put you on my chest for a few seconds and then rushed you away to test you and clean you off, because they were concerned for the miconium that was found when my water broke.

After giving you an initial once over and pronoucing you perfect, they brought you over to me and laid you on my chest so I could take a look at you for the first time.Most babies straight out of the womb aren’t exactly pretty... In fact, most babies come out looking at bit like a boiled chicken. But you were absolutely beautiful. I decided at once that you didn’t look as much like your brother as I thought that you would, but didn’t look that much like your Dad or me either. You just looked like… well… you. As you started to round out however, we found that you did in fact look a lot like your brother, who was also a perfect specimen just after birth.

I think the second child is easier just because you aren’t scared of it. I was scared to death of your brother for the first few days I was home with him. What if I broke him? What if I didn’t feed him enough or he got sick? How would I know? What would I do? With you there wasn’t as much fear, but more fascination, confidence and ease. In fact, most of the fear I felt was how we were going to sell you to your big brother as the blessing that you are.

I needn’t have worried about that however, as your brother is more obsessed with you than any of his cars, boats or planes.

In fact the first word out of his mouth in the morning is, “Tristan?” because he wants to come and look at you while he rubs your head and whispers, “soft” which is what we’ve told him he needs to be when he touches you. It’s so sweet I can almost feel my heart seize and break into a million little pieces.
Welcome to the world little soul.

Ready as I'll ever be

After having Braxton Hicks contractions for a couple of days now, I've decided that I'm never having this baby. He's going to just live inside of me sucking out my life force until he kills me and finds another host.
I've been saying for a while that I was going to have the baby on the 10th of Sept. I'm not sure why I choose the 10th, just seemed like a good day at the time and I've been telling the baby that will be his day to shine. We'll see if he listens to Mommy, or if ignoring Mommy is a trait that the boys will all share.
But one thing for certain. I'm ready. Wait. No I'm not. Wait. Yes I am. No. Wait. Yes. Dang it!
ok. Yes. I'm ready.
Ready as I'll ever be.

Shameless

What having no shame looks like.

Only at the Wal-Mart

On Friday I went to Wal-Mart and had three different women ask me if I was having twins. Three.

The first was a Wal-Mart associate, that said, "I'll bet you're tired" when I asked where the childrens backpacks were, then asked if I was pregnant with twins. I said no it was just a really big baby and she said, "It looks like it". When I walked off I heard her say to the other lady she was working with, "You got ta be nice to HER."

The second was lady that asked, seemed to believe that she was also psychic as she came up behind me and started talking to my backside.

Lady: When are those beautiful baby girls coming?!?!
Me - thinking: I KNOW she isn't talking to ME.
Lady: So when are the baby girls due?
Me-thinking: I have GOT to turn around and look at the crazy lady.
Me - Turns around.
Lady: When are the twins due? They are girls right?
Me - thinking: OMG. She IS talking to me.
Me: It's just one and he's due any minute.
Lady: Wow! You're really big.
Me: Yeah, heh. He's a big one.
Lady: Congratulations!

The third lady, tried to convince me that although we just had an ultrasound the day before and only have heard one heartbeat the entire pregnancy, that "You could never tell with these things". That I probably was going to have twins and one was hiding behind the other one, because I sure was BIG!

And you know what? I am big. And hot. And sweaty. And ready to have this baby. Well, ready after Connor's first day of pre-school on Wednesday.

Just five more minutes...

Today was the ultrasound at the OB. They usually don't do ultrasounds this late in the game but they wanted one to check both size and position of the baby. Last visit the midwife didn't think that the baby had dropped yet, meaning moved down so that his head rests in the pelvis (although I think he dropped that night), but was certain that the baby was pretty large.

In fact, the baby IS pretty large. According to the ultrasound a whopping 8lbs 10oz, with expectation to gain a pound a week up to my due date. That means if I don't go into labor until my due date that we are looking at at least a 10 lb baby. Which brings forth other complications, such as, that's a whole lotta baby to squeeze through such a tiny opening and possible C-Section.
So she recommended induction. I am a firm believer that the baby will come when it's good and ready, so I wasn't willing to have an induction next week. Plus, I've got stuff to do. Connor starts pre-school, and I still have floors to wash, grocery runs to make and surfaces to dust.
So, we scheduled induction for the 12th, hoping that I'll go into labor before then.

While I am looking forward to having the baby, right now he's easier to take care of inside of my belly. And once he's out, our whole world is going to change. Mine, Jorma's and Connor's.
Mostly I worry about how Connor is going to take it. I talk to him every day about baby brother coming and show him things that are for the baby, but I know he can't comprehend yet. Hell, he keeps asking if Papa is in every closet in the house, so I know he can't grasp the concept of a baby in Mommy's belly.

Last week after his pre-nap sippy cup he fell asleep in my arms, (due to the pedicare I had given him so he could breathe through his stopped up nose) while I rocked him and it was all I could do to put him in the crib. Not because of physical limitations, but because I just couldn't bring myself to do it. I couldn't help thinking, how he's starting pre-school and growing up so fast, but asleep in my arms in the rocking chair he still looks like a baby. He still IS a baby. I thought, this could be the last time that we get to just sit and rock and cuddle without me having to jump up and go check on a sibling. Without me having to jump up and toss him in the crib so that I can shower, brush my teeth and eat something that's not a triscuit. I held him for just five more minutes and just five more minutes again, until I had been sitting there for almost an hour in the dark weeping for the loss of my firstborn baby who still can't even wipe his own butt.

So, we've put off the induction until two days before my official due date, which gives me time to clean all of the corners of the house with a Q-tip and dust all of the light bulbs before the baby comes. More importantly though, it gives me just a little more time to spend with Connor while he's still the only baby in the house.

Dried nasal mucus

Today Connor was discovering that he could pick his nose and came up to me with the evidence and wanted to know what it was called. He ventured, "bug?" because I usually refer to them as "boogs" and waited patiently looking between me and the treasure on his finger.While grabbing the kitchen towel he insists wiping his nose on off of the floor I tried to think fast. What is it called? Isn't there some name besides, booger? If I tell him it's a boog, he'll just confuse it with bug, which is also a word that he's slightly obsessed with, since finding a dead bug in the window behind the entertainment center. This is the point where I wish that I had a really large audience so I could hear what everyone else has their kids calling boogers.Until then, I guess I'll just have to call them boogers as calling them, dried nasal mucus it probably just too much for a toddler.

Cars!

Connor has a car obsession.I'm not sure how it happened really. I pushed dinosaurs and baby animals. Jorma and I have never purchased clothing for him with a car or truck on it. We've never read books on cars, talked much about cars, or watched TV programs with cars. This has GOT to be some sort of specific boy trait that is buried deep within Connor's DNA.

It might be understandable, since to get anywhere exciting, we must travel in the car. But the obsession has also spread to boats, motorcycles and trucks. Now both grandparents have one or other of the above, so that's understandable too, except he's so obsessed that some nights in his sleep, we hear him yell, "CARS!" at the top of his lungs and then nothing else as he's fallen back asleep. One of the 5 million baby books we own has a picture of a bike in it, which is the only thing that he wants to look at in the book. He can look at that page for a solid 15 minutes at a time, which is astounding considering his attention span for ABC's or drawing is about 2.5 seconds.

Even now when he crys, he sobs the word car in between, Mommy, Daddy and No.
After his 45 minute temper tantrum on Saturday, in which the word car was said about 500 times, we tried to put him into the car, thinking that certainly he wanted to go somewhere, (and we were taking him to Grammie's anyway) but he refused to sit in his car seat, hysterically sobbing and pointing to Jorma's car and every other car in the cul-de-sac, yelling CARS! each time.

I would truly try to count the number of times I hear the word car on a daily basis, but I'd probably lose either the count or my mind by 10am, since cars, boats and trucks are all he wants to discuss first thing in the morning.Oh, and squirrels. But that's a discussion for a new entry.

Time

This past Sunday, Jorma made a huge donation towards his wifes mental stabillity and took control of our spawn for the day while I went up to Patties for a little bit of baby free time. In added bonus to my refreshed mental state, the belly floats in the pool, thus releving the constant back ache from carrying around what feels like a bowling ball in my stomach.

At one point, my mind cleared and I remembered that I had forgotten to brush my teeth. Not Connor's. Mine. This is the result of me allowing him to use my toothbrush instead of his own extra special Elmo toothbrush, so he will brush his own teeth or allow me to without resorting to our previous toothbrushing method, which is commonly referred to as the "Mommy Hold" but known to all else as a headlock.

After said announcement Darlene said, "You never forgot to brush your teeth before you had kids did you?"
I thought about it for a minute and said, "No, in fact it used to be the first thing that I did in the morning"
She then said," Wait till you are running around after two of them. You're not going to have time to throw yourself in front of a truck... and believe me... you're going to want to."

Search Results

Poor Connor. And he thought only Mommy was out to get him by not letting him, eat cookies for breakfast or run across the back of the sofa.
I ran across this link online. The only thing that it "clearly demonstrates" is that even crazy people can make a buck on the internet.

Catch up

Connor slept until 10am this morning. After waking up in a panic and making sure he was still breathing, I was unable to go back to sleep so I laid in bed for an hour before letting the paranoia win over and go in to wake him at ten. I mean what if he woke up, bumped his head and then fell into a coma?! More likely he was exhausted from waking up at 2am and 5am. I went in at 2am, where he demanded that we go either outside or swimming and Jorma took the 5am, where he wanted to know all about PawPaw's boat and truck.

This morning Connor decided to try out the word "Nasty" for most of the morning. He was trying to get into the diaper pail which I told him was "trash - nasty" which of course he had to mimic. In Connamese nasty is prounounced Nasa-gee-uh, which completely cracks me up. The fact that it cracks me up is probably the reason that he's said it about 100 times today.

I haven't been writing much because I'm just too fat to function properly. Between chasing the kid around all day the heat, the 54 lb belly I'm carting around and the fact that I feel like I need to eat every 17 minutes, by the time Connor is asleep, I'm so exhausted that I feel like doing absolutely nothing. I keep thinking that I'll get better after the baby is born, when in fact it will probably be worse. Only four weeks to go. Pray for us all.

Jorma said

Jorma said:
"I think it's funny when he's in the crib for the night crying for Elmo. He wants anyone to come and save him from bedtime. It reminds me of Ricky Bobby running around the track yelling, Help me Jesus, Help me Oprah, Help me Tom Cruise with your witch magic!"

Connor's First Beach Trip

Dear Connor,
This weekend you went to the beach for the very first time. We stayed in a house with PawPaw and Nana a few blocks from the shore. When we did get you to the beach it was so windy that we couldn't really put down towels and the surf was much to rough for you to play in. In fact, it was much too rough for Mommy to play in. The belly that your brother is living in, throws off my balance and I spent most of the time I was in the water, getting up from being knocked over and trying to pull my swimsuit bottoms back on.

You had a grand time in the personal lagoon that Daddy and PawPaw dug for you and seemed to think that the seashells shouldn't be on the beach. Bringing them to us and saying, Thank you when we took them from you. You weren't as impressed as I thought you would be, when I started throwing your Teddy-Gram cookies to the seagulls that flocked around us, swooping them up from the air. In fact, you seemed more concerned that I was wasting your cookies.

You learned the word seagull, beach, seashell and lizard which you pronounced FeeDid. Because Nana brought the iguana with her you got to watch her feed it and let it soak in the bathtub. You touched it a couple of times, but were more content to talk about it constantly than actually touch it or look at it outside of the cage.

The sleeping conditions were a mess, with you, me (and the belly) and Daddy all sharing a full size bed. Because it was hot in the room and it's hard for all of us to sleep with you kicking the crap out of us every few minutes during the night, you woke up frequently, sometimes sitting straight up in bed, and yelling, PawPaw, FeeDid, Nana or Boat before falling back over and resuming you sweet baby snore.

I had vowed to not expose you to any other children before we went, but took you to a sprinkler party on Monday before we left, where you of course contracted a cold the day before we were to leave. I was hoping for some fantastic beach shots, but since your nose was oozing green snot at each opportune moment, not many pictures were taken. So I'll just have to tell you. You had a grand time, were coddled and spoiled and relished being the center of attention.

Hopefully on our next trip, we'll have less wind, calmer surf and more cookies for the gulls. Maybe you won't squirm to get down in the restaurants and stores and will be able to dedicate some quality time to sand castle building. Maybe Daddy and I will bring an air mattress just in case...

Although I was with you almost every waking second during the trip, I missed you while we were there. I'm so used to you climbing all over me all day long and while it seemed like a bit of a vacation to have you climbing all over Daddy, PawPaw and Nana, instead of me, my arms felt a little bit empty. I was glad to be home today to have you all to myself, while you laid in my arms quietly requesting cookies and pancakes and insisting on giving me snotty kisses.

Free at last

Connor’s vocabulary is growing fast and furious. It would take a Doctorate English Linguistics Scholar to figure out what he’s talking about, but he tries. He repeats almost anything, and will sometimes repeat on command. When he’s going to say a new word, he makes you first say it a few times, while he studies the mouth movement and then tries it on his own. Frog is actually, Gawk, and Beads sounds like Beez, Duck is Uck, Papa Chuck is GaGuck and Grammie is Mamme, but he’s coming right along with it.

We've also been watching Seasame Street and he's developed a slight Elmo (Melmo) obsession. He digs Cookie Monster too, (cookie) but can't grasp the concept that Big Bird is not a duck. I explain to him, no no, that's a bird, to which he looks at me like I'm crazy and says, noooo. Duck! He's become commanding now that he has some words to use, especially when he's decided that he wants a cookie. Help, (phelp?) Cookie? He'll say while he points to the pantry. Peeessee? He'll throw in, since sometimes that word works for him. And it does. After wiping his bottom and feeding him for almost two years, it's nice to hear a please and a thank you, so at least we can begin to establish that Mommy is not the slave. Free at last!

The library class

Today we attempted a library class at the local library. I have a couple of friends that go to the library classes and they all say that they are fantastic. We were there getting our, (my) library card renewed, and went ahead and signed up for the available space left in “The Young and the Restless” library class.
At the beginning of the class, the librarian requested that any child that wasn’t into the program be taken out. I’m not sure what they meant by “into the program” but I think Connor might have fit that description. Kids are allowed to walk around if they want to, just so long as they are, paying attention to what’s going on.
When they were having the puppet show, Connor was into the librarians keys laying behind her, the basket of shakers on the table and another kids sippy cup.

I was watching Connor when he suddenly froze, watching something across the room. This freeze that he does is the 5 seconds that it takes him to work out how he’s going to get something. If you want to see the look I’m referring too, check out one of the Animal Planet shows on Lions. The look that the lion gives when a gazelle just happens to wander across his path… it’s that look. After explaining to him, “That’s not yours, honey” and wondering why someone’s kid is so dehydrated that they can’t go without a sippy cup for a 30 minute library class, he finally moved on. Moving on consisted of trying to climb into other people’s strollers, purses or baby car carriers. Or, even more fun, walking up to all of the other kids in the class, stopping and looking them over for a second to see what they had that he wanted.

So basically I walked around behind him for 20 minutes of the class. Or waddled rather, since the belly doesn’t let me move as fast as I usually do. The librarian only had to stop the story once, however, because he was trying to take her keys away again, which should have been put out of reach in the first place. He was really into the bubbles they blew and I thought for one brief shining second that he was going to settle down and clap to the Monkeys jumping on the bed song, but it never happened.
The other kids amazed me though. They all just stood by their Mommies and jumped and clapped. Sometimes they would walk away, but only about six feet or so and then they’d go right back. It’s like they were on an invisible leash. WHERE CAN I GET ONE?!?!

A couple of kids wandered up to the librarian while she was reading and stood and watched, only to be bulldozed out of the way when Connor tried to take the book away from her during the story. I’ve come to the conclusion that my kid isn’t a just hang out and check out the scene kinda kid. He’s not one to sit and listen to a story, or clap and sing along. He’s more of a running, climbing, not sitting still for a second type of kid. I guess I need to take that into consideration before taking him to library classes, restaurants, funerals or china shops.
Although I think we might try the library class again next week to see if he does better once he knows the drill. My instinct is that he will just get comfortable and be even worse, but we’ll just have to see. Certainly getting asked not to come back to library class before you’ve even hit two years old, is good for bragging rights at least.

The alien fungus

Yesterday I was in the middle of a project that I like to call Really Bored Housewife, which consisted of hanging all available tools on the pegboard in the garage. Connor was running around on the deck stark naked alternating between his pool which is right at the back garage door and the garage itself.
At one point, I looked over at him and he was standing on the deck with a look of confusion on his face. When I said, " What's wrong?", he just gazed at me with a look of complete consternation and looked down pointing at something on the deck.
I walked over to see what was causing the confusion and immediately became confused myself. What was I looking at? Laying on the deck were tanish shiny clumps of something that I could not pinpoint. Adding to my bewilderment were the tiny, bright orange, crystal-like hairs sticking up that covered it all over.
What in the hell was it? Was it alive? Was it a fungus? How did it get on the deck like that? What was the puddle of foam it was laying in? I looked at Connor and he pointed to it again, looking worried. I too was worried. What alien creature had landed on our deck? And in such a close proximity to my CHILD!
Then a revelation hit me with a surge of both relief and ickyness, Connor had pooped on the deck. The tiny little hairs that were sticking straight up, were the tiny little pieces of mandrin oranges from breakfast that were undigested. No wonder Connor was so confused, he's never seen poop outside of his diaper.
My next task was to grab a handful of wipes before Connor grabbed a handful of alien fungus. I rushed into the house, but wasn't to worry. What I came back, Connor was standing far away from the poo, half hiding behind one of the deck chairs eyeing the pile with suspicion. Isn't potty training going to be fun?

The Tarbucks Challenge

Well, I have some bad news... we didn't win the lottery yesterday. But I also have good news. I actually like steak. But apparently if it's served at Ruth's Chris which is where we went for dinner last Saturday night. By far the best steak I've ever had. The blue cheese crust that was braised on the top and the pound of melted butter it was served in, didn't hurt it either. But man. That was some steak.
Connor's vocabulary is growing by leaps and bounds. Yesterday while talking on the phone, I said, "Well, that sucks." And of course instead of picking up, that, or well, he latched onto "sucks" and practiced it a few times while lolling around on my lap. Luckily, he quickly forgot it, remembered I was on the phone and started yelling, "HELLO!?" about 20 times in a row. He has that word down too.
He also apparently has the word cookie down, because while waiting in line in the Target Starbucks today, (the Tarbucks as Jorma and I call it) he pointed at the Scottish Shortbread cookies that Mommy uses as a scream deterrent whenever she wants to shop in peace for more than 15 minutes and started having a meltdown, yelling, cookie! cookie!, until I had purchased it and he was happily trying to cram half of it into his mouth at a time. See the sacrifices I'll make just to get a Frappacino? And just for the record. Decaf Frappacino. Sucks. See? There's that word again. I guess I'll just have to keep the use of inappropriate words to a min, until well, until the kids leave the house. Dang it.

Another year bolder

Happy Birthday Jorma!

Just when you thought it was safe...

ok. I'm back. I know, I took quite the hiatus there, but it was needed. We've been living in chaos for so long it seemed necessary to get the house in order. Or maybe I'm just nesting.
There are good things and bad things about moving when you are pregnant. One of the bad things is well... moving while pregnant. If I want the china cabinet moved over 8 inches, I can't just do it myself. It makes me feel sort of helpless which I'm not accustomed to. One of the good things is that the nesting instinct is strong. I've organized and reorganized to the point that we might actually be organized. Well, sort of. I reached critical mass with the whole organization thing when I requested that Jorma purchase a label maker, "While he was out" one Saturday. My intention was to label every shelf and box in the house. But then I determined in a moment of sanity that in fact, Connor can't yet read and Jorma can tell that the pantry shelf that contains the canned goods is the shelf for the canned goods because of all of the cans on it. He's smart that way. I'm a lucky girl.
So, instead I'm settling of labeling other things. Like the label maker. Which proudly boasts "Label Maker" on a fresh shiny label across it's front. Just in case anyone gets confused.

Connor's list of words

I keep meaning to write down an official list of Connor's words to date, but I keep forgetting. Since I haven't written about anything else over the past week or so, I figure I'll go ahead and do it now.

Connor likes to say, Dada, Dadee, Mama, Cheese, Uh-Oh, Nah?(no), DayDo (Thank you), Sissy (Sippy), Ball, Bye!, Hey!, bubble, side (outside)

Connor can say" Gege (kitty), Glasses, Cookie, no, nose, game, hello, more, nite, juice, outside and bottle, TV, all done, gentle, silly

Connor mostly says, Dadee, Mama, Bye, Hey, Nah, Side, Bubble and Uh-oh

It's hard being Mommy

I've been trying to get the house together like a mad-woman. The nesting instinct is strong and I'm doing all I can to hurry up and get it done. I know I have gobs of time before everything needs to be set up and I have the rest of my life to decorate, but I'm just so anxious to be settled. After living in apartments and rental houses for the past several years, I still stop before putting a nail in the wall to think about the patch job I'm going to have to do when we move out. I guess it hasn't completely sunk in yet.

Because we are officially in a new place and now have the space for it, we've set up the pack and play to begin "Time Out's" for Connor. It just so happens that right about the time that we moved, Connor began his testing phase. So he completely ignores, "No" and does whatever he's doing, again, and again and again and again to see what happens. Now that we have his "Time out" area set up, it basically means that we are just putting him into time out, again and again and again and again and again. He's not much phased by this. I've tried yelling at him. Which he thinks is funny. I'm tried the pop on the hand, which he also thinks is funny. The thing is, there is nothing that you can do to phase the kid. He's just going to keep on keeping on, because certainly stealing a full cup of coffee off of the kitchen table that he has climbed onto is worth sitting alone in his pack and play in the dining room for three minutes. Or five minutes. Or ten minutes. Now he's like, "SWEET! I'm in the pack and play. Now I can continue working on ripping off the floor pad on this thing." Is this a boy thing? Or is this a kid thing? Right when I had gotten the baby thing down now there is something new to learn. How to deal with a toddler. A toddler and is teaching himself how to have full blown throw yourself on the floor and cry because Mommy took the plastic spork away from you. Temper tantrums about not being allow to flush the toliet 15 times in a row. Temper tantrums about coming inside from the yard because it's started raining. By the end of the day I'm ready to throw myself on the floor and cry. How good would that feel? Just to lay on the floor and inconsolably cry until suddenly you were fine enough to wander over and harrass the cat for a while.

What? You think I'm being silly? Just you try to install child proof locks on all of the cabinets with a drill, 20 plasic pieces, 40 screws, a drill, a screw driver and a toddler who wants to either sit in your lap and while pointing at your nose or take advantage of the fact that the cabinet door is open during the project, which is a perfect time to remove everything from the cabinet and take it into the living room for further inspection. Yeah, you'd be wanting to have a temper tantrum too. Or at least a hot bath and some ice cream. Which is tonights method of medication.
It's hard being Mommy.