Women, Infants, Children, and Poop

First WIC appointment today and I was kind of nervous. So it was early this morning and I'm not really sure what happened in my sleep-deprived mind but I somehow scratched Mady's head with my nail. Her first wound. Brought on by me. I cried a little, she did not. I'll never get mom of the year now. Not even mom of the week.

It looks worse in person. So I was so terrified that I was going to walk into WIC and Children and Youth were going to walk out with a pet carrier to take my baby away. When I got there, I convinced myself that CYS was not following me and totally forgot about the scratch (almost). But as I was getting sweet, screaming, beautiful Mady out of her carrier to be weighed (11lbs!), I bashed the poor girls head off the handle that I always forget to (to lazy to) put down. She screamed louder and I got ready to run. The WIC woman looked at me and smiled and I blurted out the absolute truth, "That's not the first time I've done that". And it was true. In the very beginning I smacked her head off that handle once a day. It takes at least THREE (yes, three) hands to put that damn handle down and everyone knows moms only have one (or none), but I had gotten used to it being there and was now able to get her out without giving her a concussion. Until today. In front of "The WIC Woman". She laughed and said, "It happens", then told me all about how her husband dropped their three month old. And I don't mean the baby rolled off his lap onto the couch, he dropped her. Bam. She lived, wasn't hurt at all, and has since suffered various other small injuries at the hands of the parents that love her. So maybe I can still get mom of the week if the week starts tomorrow and I'm able to keep Mady in my arms and off the kitchen floor.

I can't stop feeling horrible though.

Today was also the first time I have thrown up since drunkenly *"bringing sexy back" from the bathroom in my pre-Mady days. It was the smell. I don't know what I could have possibly eaten to make my darling daughters poop smell like that but I hope I never eat it again. It was a typical diaper and I was chatting with Mady about how she was such a "beautiful poopy baby, yes you are, a beautiful poopy baby-poo" when it hit. I gagged. She smiled. I was able to scoop her off the changing table and into the crib before I ran to the bathroom and "brought sexy back". I've become pretty damn obsessed with poop since Mady-poo came around, (Is that too runny? She hasn't pooped in three hours?? Ew, why the HELL is it green this time??? Oh my God she must be sick. Oh my god.) but I have never, NEVER, smelled poop like this. Oh my God she must be sick. Oh my god.

Babycenter.com is like my second bible, the experts say she's not sick and I believe them since she's chatting with the kitty hanging from her play-gym right now, totally unaware of how her poop smells. I'm glad she doesn't know, I don't need to have a gag fest with her.

*Bringing "sexy back" involved a night of waaay too much fun and cocktails resulting in me vomiting behind a locked door answering the question "Are you alright?" with a screaming rendition of Justin Timberlake's best song. I don't miss those days but forever in this house puking will be called bringing sexy back. It's just what we do.

Question of the day: How many germs are on Mady's sucking thumb?

Ha my name is

My name is Aimee Conklin. I've been alive for a little over 22 years. Nothing extravagant ever happened to me, I was never prom queen, and I pretty much sucked at soccer, but on May 7, 2008 I did the most amazing, super, extravagant thing that anyone has ever done in Pennsylvania or anywhere else. I had the most beautiful baby in the entire world.


That's her. Madelynn Olivia, aka Mady O. Perfect isn't she? At 6lbs 140z, I was sure I was going to break her before we even left the hospital. She seemed so much safer on the inside where my dippy self couldn't possibly drop her on her head which seemed way to heavy for her little body. Oh but holy shit it was great to see her after so long! She was late, a whole week. And I was fat. Really fat.

That's me. At 38 weeks. Remember she was a week late so by week 41 I was practically tipping over. And the heartburn! Oh the heartburn. I lived with Tums being my only nutrition for months. A co-worker told me that heartburn for Mommy equals lots of hair for baby.

I guess she was right. If you can twist your 4 day old baby's hair into a super-do like this, you obviously had alot of bad heartburn.

So it is now 7 weeks later. I've lost the baby weight (most of it), and haven't had heartburn ever again. But I'm still clueless about this tiny, screaming, absolutely-damn-beautiful baby that I still think would be much safer on the inside. And although I hate to admit it, I wish I could put the screamer back in that safe spot once in a while.

My friend Megan, who also gave birth in May (to the second most beautiful baby in the world, the first if you ask her), actually gave me the idea to start a blog. That's a lie. She didn't give me the idea, I sort of stole it. On June 23rd, I had started a journal for Mady. By June 24th the journal was forgotten. I've never been able to keep a journal, my thoughts just look crappy on the page. Maybe it's my handwriting. I used to blog almost every day not so long ago, before the thrills of adulthood (cheap beer and martinis) distracted me and I quit altogether. But now I'm back, sober and with a whole shit load to write about (dirty diapers and "the new drooler").

Question of the day: Why is baby poop yellow and chunky when breast milk is white and like water?