There were two incidents recently that had me all “WTF?!”

The first was when I went to drop off my ten-month old Tessa at the gym’s childcare center. Now don’t get me wrong. I love love love my gym and their childcare center. They are ridiculously wonderful. In fact, I was super impressed when I checked in, bee-lined to the bathroom to change Tessa’s diaper only to come out and see Tessa’s name and most of her stats up on the infant room board.

Do you have another Tessa today? I asked. I mean, I hadn’t checked into the infant room yet. How did they know all this stuff about my little one?

No, I saw you walk in so added her to the board.

Wow. That’s impressive!

Yeah – she says with a warm smile – just remind me if she’s three or four again?

Three or four . . . ? I ask the leading question because I really can’t believe what she’s asking.

Three or four months.

Okay, now before I had kids, I didn’t know the difference between a three-month old and ten-month old. In fact, I don’t know the difference now between a two and two and half-year old. I have no clue.

But I don’t think I thought three-month old babies babbled like crazy and climbed and walked. (Okay, she walks while clinging to a coffee table or equivalent but do three-month olds do that?!).

The second incident was the same day and the opposite seven-month swing on the pendulum. I was playing and giggling with Tessa at a local play area – Imagination Avenue – in their two-year old and under section. Tessa was climbing, banging toys and stuffing lots of objects in her mouth as I tried to ignore all of the germs she was licking off the toys.

A woman and her preggo friend come into the sectioned-off area with a little 15-month old darling girl. We chit chatted about our kids. What not. And I can see on the preggo lady’s face that she’s stunned that my kid and her friend’s kid aren’t doing the same things. Stunned. Tessa is crawling and climbing while the other girl is walking and quickly getting bored. She finally blurted out “Wow, Maddy is running circles around that other baby.”

Um – excuse me? What do you expect? They are seven months apart. Duh.

But then I thought, is it really their expectations of my baby – either that they think she’s a three-month old newborn or that she should be running like a 15-month old – that are asinine . . . or my expectations that childless people should be aware of baby milestones? Sure I’m aware of what a kid about 0-12 months should be doing. After that? I’m clueless. In fact, I read the baby handbooks on feeding, sleeping, everything for that moment. So I know right now how much Tessa should be eating and napping. Do I know about next month? Nope.

But then I thought – because, of course, I couldn’t let it go – I also don’t pretend like I know baby milestones. I don’t make comments about how many words a kid knows at two years versus three years because I’m not a child speech specialist – how the heck would I know what’s appropriate? And why would I care?

So, all in all, I was like “WTF?!”

Where the hell have I been?  It’s been weeks – WEEKS! – since my last post.

I’ve been working: both a day-job and some freelancing. I’ve been with a sick child who was spewing from both ends for five days and then was in with the doctor for a red throat with lesions. I’ve been with my dad who, in the last week, had his metal leg break, went into surgery, had a semi-pleasant five-day stay at Mayo hospital and is now in recovery.  And I’ve been home trying to keep our household in order now that my husband is only home one day a week.

I am tired.

But I have big announcements coming. Big announcements that I’m very excited about.

Being a mommy will be back! Hahahahaha . . .

Every personality test I take says that I’m logical and not intuitive. I’m thinking and not feeling. I’m a man and not a woman. Which is bullshit because I think I’m a totally sensitive, intuitive WOMAN! Or, at least a chick.

Well, the other day, I was totally intuitive and even have proof. Proof in the form of vomit and diarrhea . . . but proof, nonetheless.

On Wednesday, I dropped Tessa off at daycare and it was actually okay. Okay in that she wasn’t screaming, crying, clinging to me and – otherwise – making my heart break. However, something was off. I couldn’t tell what it was and I just couldn’t shake it.

When I got to work, I jumped on IM and pinged Rob:

Me: yt?

Rob: yeah

Me: I’m worried about Tessa. Something just wasn’t right when I dropped her off. I’m freaking out that she’s not okay.

Silence

Me: yt?

Rob: yeah

Me: I’m going to call daycare

I have never called daycare just to check-in. I’ve thought about it but never have. But not able to shake this ominous feeling, I call daycare . . . and leave a voicemail.

Me: yt?

Rob: yeah

Me: I called daycare and left a voicemail. I’m really worried.

Silence

Daycare calls me back and says that everything is totally fine. That Tessa is playing with Connor and having a great time. Whew. What a relief.

Me: yt?

Rob: yeah

Me: Daycare called back and said that Tessa is fine. Thank goodness. I guess I was just being crazy.

Rob: yeah but I still love you.

Three hours later . . . daycare calls to tell me that Tessa is projectile vomiting nonstop and I need to come pick her up. This is the first time they have ever called me to pick her up. I was really freaking out then. But a part of me was like, “I knew something was off!” And I gave a big “f—k you” to those personality tests – ha, I’m intuitive!

And executive summary on Tessa: she has a stomach bug. Had diarrhea today and – after pumping pedialyte in her all day – is doing a lot better. The poor little angel. I’m really hoping that next week we can avoid pediatrician appointments . . . maybe even two weeks in a row? Now that would be awesome.

After way too many antibiotics, way too many doctor appointments, way too many probiotics, diahrrea-laden diapers and one baby yeast infection, Tessa got her ear tubes last Friday.

Being her mommy, I was freaking out all week. Luckily, I was super distracted with work but – still – I was freaking out. Part of my concern, besides the whole putting my baby under and cutting her ear, was that she couldn’t eat for six hours prior to her surgery. So at 2 a.m., Rob woke up, made a bottle, fed Tessa and put her back in her crib – all in less than 8 minutes. Impressive! We were off to a great start.

We left our house at 5:45 a.m. and drove to the Phoenix Children’s hospital . . . right after a trip through a drivethru Starbucks. We needed to check-in at the Outpatient Surgery Center. Of course, there are three Outpatient buildings and we went through all three of them before getting to where we needed to be. I checked in Tessa, filled out her paperwork and we settled in.

I packed as if we would be gone for a fortnight – or at least overnight. I packed a duffel with: two flavors of Graduates’ puffs, 10 ounces of formula, a jumpsuit for Tessa, two stuffed animals, two books, two blankets, a finger puppet – and all of the normal essentials, such as diapers and wipes (obvie). Rob packed his iPhone. Of course, we ended up using this more than anything I packed.

My parents showed up and waited patiently in the lobby while we were in pre-op. I don’t want to be totally obnoxious but Tessa was the celebrity of the pre-op area. She’s so darn cute and the nurses kept bringing other colleagues by to see her and how cute she is – yup, she’s totally awesome, the cutest ever – yay!

The actual procedure was ten minutes. She did great. Was very loopy afterwards and basically slept all day. But she did great. And she’s feeling better and has already perked up and started taking on the world even more than before.