Puke Coma

So, it’s been a while. I guess you could say I’ve been in a sort of “puke coma.” One where my sweet little girl instantly became a 2-going-on-25-year-old and I now have a new little baby milk monster that keeps me on my toes! Where do all of these kids keep coming from? Weird.

New Year’s Resolution

Sitting in the waiting room of my daughter’s pediatrician’s office this morning, I took in my surroundings. An eleven-year-old girl with perfectly highlighted hair and a brand new pair of Hunter rain boots (with matching Hunter socks) adorning her feet. How is it that someone who quite possibly still needs a booster seat in her mother’s minivan can wear a $200 foot ensemble?

Before I can think about it too much, my sweet little four-month-old starts fussing in her car seat. I know the drill – I stand up immediately, lifting the car seat as I begin to swing it back and forth. I’m already sweating from the trek inside, so why not add a little workout into the mix? The crying immediately stops and the kids next to me laugh. One announces, “She just wanted to move!” and his mother confirms that, “Yes, sometimes it’s the little things that make babies happy.” That is, until those babies turn eleven and insist on name brand boots … right, lady?

The waiting room is busy. It’s flu season, and the beginning of a new month (and year) so the doctor’s office is the place to be, I guess. I’m wearing about seven layers of clothes and immediately begin sweating heavier under the lights. Back and forth, back and forth. Anything for this little sixteen pound monster that I love so much. I guess I’d buy her the expensive boots. I mean, if she was a good kid and she really, really had to have them. Maybe she could do some chores and earn the boots.

Our name is called and we find ourselves in “room number two” with the nurse. Baby needs to strip down for her appointment so I take the opportunity to rid myself of some layers as well. Oh man, I’m warm. And sweaty. And … stinky. Yup, there it is … puke all over me. Must have happened right before we left the house. Come to think of it, baby is stinky too. Well crap. Mom of the Year Award goes to your’s truly. We are both covered in spoiled milk. Lovely. Now all I can think of is the crowded waiting room and the stench we were emitting the entire time. Doctor comes in and we exchange the usual, “How is everything?” and, “She is doing so well! I can’t believe how big she’s getting!” with each other.

I notice I have cat hair all over my currently exposed layer. WTF? This is why we can’t have nice things! My eyes dart to the $40 pair of Target boots I’m wearing. These are great boots that have lasted a few seasons now. Why can’t I stop thinking about boots? The doctor has on great boots too. She’s pretty fashion-forward, always in leggings, stylish foot ware, and her crisp, white coat. I, on the other hand, appear to be a total slob.

We wrap up the appointment and say our goodbyes. On the way out the door, I almost slip on a sheet of black ice with baby in tow. Sigh. It’s like my brain is in 174 different places at once these days. Go figure! I get baby into the car, load up the diaper bag and climb in. Somehow my hair has now twisted itself into a knot around my hipster glasses, which coincidentally are not looking very “hip” right now. And dear God … what IS that smell? Oh yeah, it’s me.

New Year’s resolution: quit being a total train wreck!