It's a cliche, but where does the time go? Peanut is turning into a little boy. Where did the little baby go?

Peanut continues to amaze me. We took him to McD's for dinner and playland last week. Dinner, not so much (me, either. I hate fast food.) Playland, much. The cool tube part was labeled for kids ages 3-12. Peanut hardly even glanced at the cheesy toddler area and went straight for the stairs into the tubes. He crawled back and forth, peeking out the windows at us. That is until he noticed the bigger kids climbing into the upper tubes. He wanted up. I crawled in after him and boosted his little heiney up the steep 5-foot length of tubing with rungs (they were too far apart for him and I was afraid he'd fall). He navigated the rest of the way, including climbing up a couple of shorter parts. We went down the twisty slide together, him giggling all the way. After a while he hooked up with 2 little girls who said they'd be happy to escort him, so I went through another time with them, felt they'd keep a good eye on him and let them rip. Hubby and I could hear Peanut laughing and giggling the whole time. Whenever he'd get to a window, he'd pound on it to make sure we were watching.

He's cutting two upper molars, so we've had a couple of iffy nights. He only seems to be bothered by them at nighttime, although his appetite seems a bit down.

Yesterday morning he and I went to the park. We first fed the flock of ducks. Peanut giggled and giggled at them, especially at the one, very vocal, white duck. Once we burned through 2 loaves of bread, we waved bye-bye to the ducks and headed for the playground. He climbed up and slid down the toddler slide all by himself, then worked on climbing down the stairs with some help from me. When I started getting uncomfortable with the heat, I told him he could go one more time then we were leaving. He actually listened to me and got into the stroller without any fuss.

I’m always hesitant to write about work. Dooce and SJ both were fired when their blogs were discovered. Flea just removed a very funny post about her job. I try to keep things vague and not controversial. There are several situations I would love to get off my chest, but if any coworkers found my blog, they could easily figure out my identity.

Late Monday afternoon, I was informed the temp tag on our new truck, which we would be driving to a field site the following day, had expired. After discussing it with Hubby, I was hesitant to drive it – at best we wouldn’t get pulled over, maybe we could talk our way out of a ticket if stopped (main campus was aware of the situation, lapse was due to their oversight, and a new tag was on its way), but at worst, someone would get a ticket. Fortunately, a coworker procured a different vehicle the next morning, unbeknownst to us, one without AC. Lovely.

Shortly after discovering the truck snafu, Boss informed me that our cooperator (MM for micromanager), whose field site we’d be working in the next day, had not finished setting up our site as promised. He had plenty of blame for Lazy Coworker, who had gone to the site a week previous to help set it up (the problem was not his fault) and blame for our other cooperators, who also had no responsibility.

In short, I knew we were in for a bad day in the field.

As soon as we got to the site, MM started in on me: Did you decontaminate? Are you sure you aren’t carrying anything bad into the field? We need to finish setting up before you start your part. Make sure you do it like this. Be sure to tell all your people. Don’t forget to do that. Make sure everyone knows…

We get started, and one of my people is in the wrong place. I should’ve caught it, but was so overwhelmed with trying to make sure we all were running smoothly, I completely missed it. MM pointed it out (one instance where he was useful). My person had the grace not to get visibly pissed at me, which he had every right to do.

We got everyone in the correct place and got to work. I hooked up with J, the woman comparable to my position in the other cooperator’s lab, and things got running. Then she started in on how she didn’t want to be in the field, had to leave there at a specific time (never mind they had a 30 minute drive vs. our 2 hour drive), and wants to hurry (bad, bad idea. Hurrying = errors). I stupidly let that stress me, and I made mistakes. Then we discovered mistakes MM had made, which also had to be corrected and set us back even farther. She goes on about how she’s a lab worker, not a field worker, hates working in the field... Then she starts in about being a MOLECULAR BIOLOGIST. Can we just let that die already? I had enough of the molecular vs. applied biology crap in grad school. What is with gene jockeys and their freakin egos? Get over it already. Not all of us are interested in doing molecular work and just because I enjoy getting my hands dirty every now and then doesn’t make me stupid, uneducated, or unskilled. I may not be a geneticist, but I’ve dabbled in molecular work when necessary. So what? Molecular biology simply provides a set of tools to use in research. Yes, they are very useful, but that does not make them inherently better. I’m happier using a different set of research tools. In the grand scheme of things, who gives a shit?

I knew about J from a previous coworker who did not get along with her. She was right on. J is intelligent and seems to be a hard worker, but she’s arrogant and controlling. I respect her self-confidence (arrogance?) that allows her to freely speak her mind, and I respect that she doesn’t take crap, but shit, get over the attitude and just do your job. Trust me, things would go easier and faster.

We finally finished up, just as the afternoon storms were rolling in. J needed help loading up some equipment and I swear I heard Coworker say he’d help. I told her he said he’d help, he said he hadn’t, so I went and helped her. Whatever, I didn’t care who did it as long as we got it finished. She started complaining about the men not helping (they busted their asses in the field doing hard labor – a lot more than she and I did). I think he overheard her comments and got (rightfully) pissed. I apologized, and said I thought I heard him offer to help, no harm done.

So now I’ve succeeded in not only annoying my boss lately, I’m pissing off the coworkers, too. Great. I’ve been feeling a weird vibe at work lately, and I’m not sure if I’m being hypersensitive or what, but the field sitch did not help.

I think we need a Nanny 911 intervention to help with bedtime and sleep issues. Peanut is not going to bed before 9 pm on weeknights and was up till 10:30 over the weekend. He finally realized that he can climb out of bed after we put him in it at night. Last night, as we were settling down on the couch at an attempt to get him sleepy, he said "nigh-niiiiigh" (night-night). When asked if he wanted night-night, he shook his head yes, we had hugs and kisses, and Hubby trundled him off to bed. Ten seconds later, Peanut came running back out into the living room with a huge smile across his face. A little bit later, the scenario repeated several times.

He still is sleeping in his bed till 2 or 2:30. By the time I retrieved him last night, he was already out of bed and part way across the room. I wonder if he'll start coming into our room soon.

We thought we were golden. Oh, how the proud fall. Peanut slept in his bed until 5:30 am yesterday. Hubby and I were elated. Could this mean we’ll finally get our bed back? Last night he only lasted till 1 am. I’m not completely brokenhearted. 1 am is much better than 10:30-11:30 pm which had become the norm over the past couple of months. Maybe we can slowly work him up to all night or even a consistent 5 am.

Bed has been added to Peanut’s vocabulary. He just adores climbing in and out of it and exclaiming “bed!” I finally realized “buhdee” is Peanut for binky. He’s been saying it for a while. Mommy is just a little slow on the uptake.

Lately, all birds are “duh” (not to be confused with “daw” which is dog). He used to say bird all the time, but once he learned duck, that was it. We always stop by the retention pond and look at the cattle egrets, sandhill cranes, glossy ibis, and little blue herons on our evening walks. Last night, Peanut got worked up when he realized Daddy was going to mow the back yard instead of come on the walk. When we got to the pond, he pointed and said “duh”. I explained they were birds not ducks. Bad idea. As we walked away, he wiggled for effect and impatiently corrected me: “duh, duh, duh, DUH, DUUUUUH.”

“OK, they’re ducks.”

Hubby's sense of humor is one of his best attributes.

He and his coworkers are always playing little pranks on one another. Even his sergeant gets in on the jokester action. Hubby is a big fan of monk-e-mail and employed it for a coworker. He selected the British accented voice, called the coworker, held the phone to the computer speaker and left this message:

"This is Charles from the X County Health Department. Your syphillis test came back positive. If you have any questions about this result, please contact me at blah blah blah number." He left goober (call late at night and wake the baby) friend's phone number.

I nearly peed myself when Hubby played it for me.

Peanut’s crib, the one we’ve used for a year and a half, is a death trap. I discovered this little gem yesterday after I h appened acriss the CPSC website. We never saw any recall notices at the stores which carry the crib. I can’t remember if we sent in the warranty/recall card, but we never were notified, either.

That damn crib drove us nuts while we were trying to buy it. We found the style at T@rget and added it to our registry. Dad and Stepmom decided to give us the crib and mattress for our baby shower, but after finding out how much it would cost to ship, they sent us a gift card instead. By the time we got around to buying the crib, Peanut was a couple months old. We went to the store, found the crib in their booklet, and asked a salesperson to retrieve one. He couldn’t locate it and couldn’t say when more would come in. He found a manager. “Oh, we don’t carry those in store. You’ll have to order one online” was her answer. No, not if we were going to pay half its price in shipping. So we found it at another local big store and eventually Hubby assembled it.

Last night he looked up the serial number online. Sure enough, it was manufactured during one of the recall months. Something about wrong sized screws which can loosen and allow the bottom slats to fall out. Several injuries and one death have occurred. But they’ll get a replacement set of slats to us in about 3 weeks. Just make sure the screws are tight for now. Don’t let the dead toddler scare you.

Hubby checked the slats (they were tightly in place), then decided it was a good time to lower the crib into a transitional bed. Peanut hardly sleeps in it anyway. Peanut had a ton o’ fun climbing in and out of the bed but still didn’t want to sleep in it…not that I really cared at that point.

Yes, I’m paranoid about crib injuries and a plethora of other scary things. A childhood friend lost his son in a crib collapse. The babysitter, who was only licensed to keep children on the first floor of her home, put him in a crib upstairs. It collapsed and he suffocated.

Last week I had one of those stupid days. The kind where everything I did was somehow wrong.

The boss needed an item asap from Home Depot. I drove to L0wes, thinking it was H0me Dep0t, passing the freakin’ H0me Dep0t on my way there and never even realizing it. Dear Lord, I am sleep effin’ deprived. I came back a different way in order to stop at W@l-M@rt for some other supplies. Except the store is gone. I debated where the nearest one would be and drove to another town, to the one I usually shop at. Unfortunately, there’s another closer store.*

When I got back to work and my coworker unwrapped the L0wes item, we realized it was the wrong thing. Boss was pissed, thinking that I had cut the product down from a larger piece. I explained it came pre-sized and wrapped, so I had no idea it was the wrong thing. Back out, this time to H0me Dep0t, to get the correct item. I got back at 4:30, the item needed to be cut down into smaller pieces before 5.

I ran by the bank on the way home to transfer some money to Mom and deposit a couple of cashier’s checks. I had grabbed the receipts, not the checks themselves and had no clue until the teller sent them back. And the $25 transfer to Mom became $75. Whatever. Mom will need the money and I didn’t feel like waiting in line again.

The cashier at L0we’s did make my day, so all wasn’t gloom and doom. When I gave her my tax exempt form, she said “Oh, University X. You don’t look old enough to be a student.” I laughingly told her I wasn’t a student, but and 8-year employee of the university. She couldn’t believe it. Then she commented to the guy behind me about how she was embarrassing me. I told her not at all, I was flattered she thought I looked so youthful. I think she would’ve lost it if I let on that I’m a mom in addition to 15 years older than she imagined.

*In my defense, I work in a podunk town 45 minutes away from home. I do all my personal shopping in my hometown, so I’m not all that familiar with things near work. There are no major stores in Podunk Town, so work supplies are purchased either in Small City in one direction or Larger Small Town in the exact opposite direction. I ended up at L0wes in Small City, then Wal-Mart in Larger Small Town, not realizing that the W@l-M@rt in another small town adjacent to Small City would’ve been quicker. Oh well.


I thought my goofy day ended at sundown. Nope, it stretched onto the next day. That afternoon I returned the incorrect item, then ran to W@l-M@rt for additional work items. I went to the closer store, one which I’m not familiar with. It’s arranged differently and it took forever to find what I needed, even after asking for assistance. The whole time I thought my cell phone was in my pants pocket. I was wrong. It was sitting on my desk back at work.

I got back to work around 3:45. Several coworkers asked if Hubby had gotten in contact with me. Uh-oh. I called and discovered daycare called him at around 2:00, after Peanut puked. Hubby was stranded with his broken-down work car, waiting for fleet to get him hooked up with a replacement and had been frantically trying to get me.

I finally arrived at daycare around 4:30. Peanut was pitifully lying on his Kindermat with his binky and blankie, surrounded by a gaggle of kids. He looked miserable. Once I scooped him up, I got the downlow from the teachers. He had thrown up mucous (he’s had a horrible cold with a cough for about 2 weeks), only slept for about 30 minutes of naptime, was very fussy, and had been snoozing on and off all afternoon. She said several kids had ear infections, but I doubted he had one since the tubes have been kickass at doing their job. She also said the other kids had been really sweet, gathering around Peanut and occasionally giving him a little pat. It was so adorable I almost cried. They may bite and smack the shit outta each other, but when one of the team is down, they all rally 'round.

Hubby and I decided if Peanut had a bad night, he would stay home the next morning and I’d stay home in the afternoon. Oh, did we have a bad night. Peanut was up crying for most of it. Hubby graciously let me sleep in the guest room, but I still woke up several times to faint crying and the stupid cat. (His way of thanking me for rescuing him after his outdoor experience was to pounce on me all night and loudly scratch at the blinds. Asshole.)

Peanut finally settled down around 5:30 and slept for 3 or so hours. By that point, Hubby and I were both thinking ear infection. Sure enough, it was a bilateral infection and sore throat. The good news was since it had been 8 months since the last one, Peanut could go on oral Amoxicillin instead of injected Rocephin. Thank God.

He’s much better now after a weekend of good nights and good naps. Me? I need a vacation filled with lots of alcohol.

Although we had a few rough patches, the 4^th turned out to be a very pleasant one. We met up with BF and her family downtown on the 3^rd for the fireworks. It was c-r-o-w-d-e-d. BF’s husband spent 90 minutes trying to find bottled water – to no avail. We shared Peanut’s cup of water with BF’s daughter, who ended up puking later that night. (So far no pukies for us. I’m praying it stays that way). The fireworks finally started at dark and lasted a whopping 10 effin’ minutes. Talk about a shitty display. Ironically, it was for the best. Peanut was absolutely TERR-I-FIED. He wailed and shook the whole 10 minutes. We resorted to covering his ears while he buried his face in Hubby’s shoulder. He’d settle down for a few seconds, then take a look, see the fireworks, and begin wailing again. As soon as the display finished, we hightailed it outta there. Thankfully, Peanut was pooped and fell asleep in the car.

Hubby had to attend a 6 am autopsy on the 4th, so he set the alarm while leaving the house at an ungodly early hour. I went to let the dog out the back door, having forgotten the alarm...opening anything other than the front or garage doors sets of the audible siren. Peanut had another shaky scream-fest and the cats scattered to hide under various pieces of furniture. Some cuddling and breakfast took care of him, but I was still jittery for another half hour.

We went to BF’s parents’ house in the afternoon for a yummy cookout. Peanut, true to form, didn’t want any of the food and showed his dislike by throwing and/or spitting it out. We finally compromised on sausage, one piece a time onto his plate (any quantity more than one piece on his plate get tossed onto the floor).

We got home around 6 and fed Peanut some dinner. By dusk, several neighbors began setting off their own fireworks displays. We had at least 7 groups shooting mortars – it was great. We could watch from any window in the house. Peanut got scared again, so we had to close the blinds and turn up the TV. He finally fell asleep on Daddy’s lap. As I was getting into bed, our oldest cat slinked under the bed to hide from the ongoing booming. I realized I hadn’t seen our goofy Siamese mix all day. I couldn’t remember the last time I saw him – the day before….longer ago than that? Hubby and I searched to no avail.

Once Peanut and I were asleep, Hubby searched the neighborhood. He found a cat lying in the gutter and knew what had happened. Until the cat opened its eyes and trotted off. No luck.

I woke up around 2 am, couldn’t sleep, and went outside to call for kitty. Nothing. As I lay in bed, I began formulating flyers, places to put them, thought about the shelters to call. Hubby would have to get to Animal Control, which is on the way to his office, since they only impound for 3 days before euthanizing.

I decided to look for kitty again once I was showered and dressed, before Hubby and Peanut were up. The neighborhood was calm, so maybe I’d have luck. I called kitty from the back yard. Nothing. I called some more. Faint meowing from the cats inside, peering out the slider, wondering why the heck I was outside. No, the meowing was outdoors…just outside the fence. I cut through the house, out the front door, and around to the side where I heard kitty. He was gone. I called again and he came out from under our neighbor’s shed. I snatched up his furry little ass and hurried into the house. After several fuzzhead smooches, I crawled back into bed for a couple minutes.

Last night he had 3 sessions of meowing and scratching at our bedroom door. I wanted to kill him. I’m glad and relieved he’s home, but I could wring his scrawny little neck

Phoning Chez Selzach after 8:30 pm is a capital offense. Unless you or a loved one is dying, DON'T CALL. Peanut had just fallen asleep around 9 when Hubby's goober friend called...to talk about his stupid hobby. Of course, Peanut woke up screaming and didn't fall back asleep until 10:30. Then woke up crying at 1 am and 5:30 am.