Father/daughter bonding.

In a rather unconventional twist, Dad and I had a little date last weekend. We didn't go to a Daddy/daughter dance. We didn't go to shoot pool, or even shopping.

We shot guns.

First, let me say that this was MY idea. It was part of his Father's Day gift, it just took us forever to actually go do it. Partially because we are busy people, and partially because I was legitimately scared shitless. I hate guns. I'd never held one, shot one, or even HEARD one shot in real life from "up close." And for the record? It's nothing like the movies.

We got the world's fastest lesson and safety update from the folks at the range. It's the largest (and safest) in Michigan, so I figured we'd get more than "Here's how to load it. Don't aim it at people. Wear these goggles and ear protection. And have a nice day." But legitimately, that's what we got.

Terrified, we headed into lane 2 and got our inner badasses on. We were totally out of our element and surrounded by people who clearly knew we didn't belong. But this was a lesson on empowerment and bravery, and I wanted to conquer my fears. So, like any good actress slash drama queen, I pretended like I owned the place.

However, I'm not exaggerating when I say that it took me probably 45 seconds holding the 9mm handgun in the air, pointed at the fake robber target just 25 feet away, finger trembling on the trigger, to actually fire the thing.

But then I did.

And you know what? It wasn't scary. It was actually very....impressive. To know your own strength, and the power of something so small, but so capable of changing the world in an instant, is something very powerful.

I'm still not a fan of guns. But I am a fan of my own power and willingness to embrace a fear and learn something new.

Oh, and bonding with the ol' man was a definite perk.

Carnival fun!

Note: my tongue is out. #awesomemom

How'd you spend your Sunday?

Was it at the ER with a severely dehydrated 2 year old? No? Than it was sure as hell better than mine.

Long story short: Alex woke up on Sunday morning limp as a noodle, unresponsive to any questions and demonstrating some signs of labored breathing. I don't really remember driving to the hospital, but somehow we ended up at the Children's ER at Beaumont.

He had no signs of fever or infection, which was the most troubling. The doctors ran blood tests and x-rays of his chest and stomach to learn more. During the x-ray, the tech told Alex she was going to "take a picture of his bellybutton" so he pointed to it and said, "cheeeeese!" I die.

Anyway, his labs showed CO₂ levels of 17. The "normal" range is 22-26, so the kid was dehydrated. Severely. We had a barrage of questions for the docs--because he had been drinking and peeing healthy amounts all week--and even had a wet diaper that very morning. It's assumed that his body was just fighting off some sort of bug earlier in the week and was using all the "extra" fluids to do that.

So, he got hooked up to an IV for the  better part of 3 hours and got all juiced back up. And, miracle of miracles, after about 30 minutes into the drip, he was his normal, happy, silly self.

He was so brave when they put his IV in.
Also, doesn't he look BIG here? Sigh.

Feeling better...can you tell? :)

The last picture is proof that we were ready to be discharged and head home. And also that he has Poppi and Papa John wrapped around his chubby fingers. Papa John was on wagon duty and Poppi pushed the IV cart behind them. This was all just too much for me, truly.

So, in summary, that's not how I planned to spend my Sunday. But everyone is happy, healthy and hydrated back at home. Also? I like alliteration.

It Happened.

For the first time on Tuesday, I was that mom with that kid.

"What?!" You exclaim. "Alex is an Angel!"

Eh. Notsomuch.

Don't get me wrong, I still maintain that Alex on his worst day is still better than the worst kid on his best day, but Tuesday was the day it happened. He threw a public tantrum and there wasn't a damn thing I could do about it.

The worst of it? He was getting his hair cut.

This is his third haircut. You might remember that the first two were hugely successful. He was such a good boy and sat still and even got a sucker when it was all said and done. Not this time.

Basically, he screamed and screamed and wouldn't sit still. I'm not into bribing a kid to be good, but he wasn't even having the cookie or sucker I offered. Obvi, I was flying solo, so Joe wasn't there to help with reinforcements and I pretty much just wanted to disappear into the floor and never return.

That said, we survived. But even survival at its best still resulted in my kid looking like he joined the Marines:

The few. The proud. The Alex monster.

Where To Begin?

Ohhhh what a morning it's been. I suppose I will tell the tale from the very beginning, because that's what Julie Andrews would have me do. Buckle in kids, it's gonna be a long one.

Our morning began at about 6:45, when I woke in a frantic flurry because I had overslept the alarm and needed to be at work for a 7:30 meeting. We had worked it out the night before that Joe would drop Alex at daycare and I would pick him up at the end of the day.

As I was tornadoing around the house getting ready, Joe was being a dear and getting Alex ready for his day. You know - food, clothing and all that jazz. About the time I was applying my mascara, Joe hollered that he needed help because Alex was throwing up his bottle.

Lordhavemercy. My child was literally spewing 6 oz. of formula exorcist-style out of his lips. I've never seen anything like it.

After a quick check for fever (none) and realizing he was in very good spirts (still giggling at his 'toons and smiling like a fool), we decided he must've just had an upset tummy and carried on about our business. Five minutes later, I grabbed my cell phone, coat and computer and was out the door.

Cue the cameras to me walking into work and finally looking at my phone, only to find 2 missed calls and a text message from our daycare provider telling me she had the stomach flu and could not watch the kids today.

::facepalm::

In a tizzy, I called Joe EIGHT times, left 2 messages and sent 2 texts, hoping he would see them before he bundled Alex up and shipped him off to Daycare. Meanwhile, I went up to my desk and alerted my boss of the situation at hand. He was relatively cool about it and told me to just call into my morning meetings. And so I did - Supermom hops back in her car, managing meetings and life from the road.

Imagine my surprise upon pulling into the driveway and Joe's Jeep is nowhere in sight. Seriously? Did he not look at his phone? Uhhhm, as I very obviously demonstrated not 15 minutes earlier, this is very possible.

I put my meeting on muted speaker and sent Joe a text message: "Where are you?" I get back: "Headed to Daycare." I say, "Jane's sick. Come home. I'm here."

Fast forward 2 minutes to Joe calling me 3 times in a row. I'm still on my conference call, so I text him back, "In meeting. Can't talk." And I get back, "911."

Shiiiiiiiiiite.

I'll spare you the details moving forward, (mostly because reliving my morning is elevating my blood pressure) but to summarize, Joe got into a car accident as he was turning around to come back home. He and Alex are both fine, but the Jeep has seen better days.

I can't help but think that ALL of this could have been avoided if I just would have stupid looked at my stupid phone before I stupid left for stupid work. You can bet your sweet arse I won't be making that mistake again.

Oh, and Alex? Still spewing. My Momma's coming to nurse him back to health tonight and watch him tomorrow. Thank jebus for her.

Epiphany.

This morning it hit me like an 18-wheel semi truck rounding the corner at a NASCAR race: Alex is mine.

I know what it might sound like to my readers. At least 75% of you are thinking, "Captain Obvious much? She's just NOW realizing this fact? Call CPS ASAP!" But really...it came straight out of the blue and just *wham* was all up in my grill, totally without permission or fair warning.

The realization of carrying him for 9 months and subsequently having him sliced out of my uterus has finally snuck up on me, and it's no small thing.

       He is part of ME.

       He is not rented, leased, on loan or just visiting for a long weekend.

       I am responsible for raising him to be a genuinely decent human being.

It's no small burden to bear, and it absolutely blows my mind to pieces to consider the gift of his life. I mean...think about it: I grew a person - a freaking PERSON - from scratch and now I get to take that person and introduce him to life and all of the opportunity it holds.

I honestly stopped breathing for a minute on the drive into work thinking about how magnanimous my job as a Mother is. Literally was near panic attack status.

But then I remembered that I am awesome. And that Joe is awesome. And that we are awesome together. And because of that, Alex will be awesome.

And now, I shall resume breathing normally and return my pulse to resting rate.

4 Month Checkup.

Mr. Alex had his 4 month checkup a few days ago and it went swimmingly! The doctor said he was "such a sweet little thing" and that we "set the bar high." Perhaps he says that to all his parents, but I like to think not. He also said he was super proud of me for being a "good and brave" mommy because I had to yank his circumcision apart. Oh, did I not tell you this? Silly me. Men of the world stop reading now or you will likely pass out.

Last time I was visiting my parents, my mom (a nurse) noticed that his circumcision had sort of "grown back." I will spare you the anatomy lesson, but you can use your imagination and figure it out. She advised that if I kept tugging on it every time I changed his diaper that it would likely break apart and go back to normal.

Well, the magical day that it DID pull apart I about lost my lunch. It didn't even phase Alex...he didn't wince or cry or even act as if anything had happened. Strange. Regardless, the doc was uber proud of me for being brave enough to do it - he'd never had a mom that did before. Yay for me.

In other news, he's growing just as he should and remains in the 50th %ile for pretty much everything. He was a champ for his shots. Me...notsomuch. :)

4 Month Checkup - Weight: 14 lbs. 10 oz. (50th %ile); Length: 25 in. (50th %ile); Head: 42.1 cm. (25/50th %ile)
2 Month Checkup - Weight: 12 lbs. (50/75th %ile); Length: 22.75 in. (25/50th %ile); Head: 39.2 cm. (25/50th %ile)

Growing. And awesome. He's the best.