Look, I know there are bigger problems in the world than this. But maybe if we took care of the small probblems, the big problems would take care of themself. OK. That’s not true, I know. But how will we ever fix any big problems, when we can’t handle the tiny ones.
Birth Certificate. Like a social security card, everyone gets one. (OK, I know, not everyone.) Max’s social security card came in the mail without me having to do anything after filling out a form in the hospital. The birth certificate, not so easy.
After a couple months passed and no brith certificate showed up in the mail, I made a phone call. “You have to go down to the old hospital to pick it up with $9 cash or check only and your drivers license.” Should I get there by horse and buggy?
They expect people to haul their newborn baby, that they have to feed every two hours (ok, only if your breastfeeding – formula is every four hours) out there just to pick up the birth certificate? A man definitely came up with that idea. Why don’t they just mail those things out since they had us fill out the form in the hospital?
Then I get there to “pick up Max’s birth certificate”, and they inform me that their system gets even better than that! “You have to fill out an application, pay for it, and then come back tomorrow to pick it up.” Wow. No, a MAN didn’t come up with this idea. A crazed lunatic did. And for some reason everyone is following this crazy system without questioning the sanity of it?
The man in line ahead of me had filled out his application yesterday, and was now back to pick up the birth certificate. But wait, SURPRISE! “They were having trouble locating it. Could he please take a seat and wait a few minutes while they looked for it?”
I had just two questions for them: “Where should I park my horse and buggy. And had they heard of the new magic called internet?”
She offered to mail me Max’s birth certificate at no extra charge. I’ll be amazed if it makes it here without having to make at least one follow-up phone call.
(Sigh). Make that a really BIG sigh. Make it TWO of them. Target, target, target. So disappointing. I seriously wish I had better experiences there. I WANT to like them. I do. They have so much going for them. But then, they just can’t seem to get their sh*t together.
I live so close to a Target that it’s unavoidable to shop there. Especially now with a 2 month old baby, I need places to go pick up things like diaper rash cream that are quick and easy.
I ran over there the other day (OK, I didn’t RUN, I DROVE) to get diaper rash cream and make a return on a baby item that I’d ordered online. Quick and easy, right? HA HA! Not at Target.
I printed out the recipt from my online order before I left, even though I know that most places (including Target) don’t require a receipt anymore for returns, they just need the credit card you used to make the purchase.
However, even though my order DID appear on my credit card when the girl at “guest services” (they should be called GUESS services) ran my card, AND I had the order info with me, THAT was not enough to make my return. Nope. Not at Target.
Guess Services Gal: I need you to bring me a ‘return’ receipt in order to complete your return.
Me: What’s a “return” receipt?
GSG: You go to Target.com, log in, then click on “return item” at the bottom of the website, find your item, choose “return item” and then print the page.
Me: (long pause) For real? You want me to home to do that and then come back?
GSG: You could use our computers, but they aren’t working. You can see if the computers upstairs are working.
Me: For real? I’m not sure I remember my user name and password to log in.
But I lug my ass upstairs anyway and realize she didn’t mention WHERE to find the computers. I have to track down an employee, “They’re outside the restrooms”.
I get to the computers to find only ONE of them working. Barely. The track ball is all sticky and doesn’t move well around the page. Gross. I don’t want to know what kind of unidentifiable germs are on this thing.
I don’t see anything at the bottom of the page regarding “returns”. This must be a joke. An employee tries helping me, but she can’t find it either at first. We get a manager. He’s laughing and apologizing and AGREEING with me just how RIDICULOUS it is to go through all of this, just to make a return.
Great. Tell that to the IDIOTS running this place. PLEASE!
We find the “return” info and try to print the page, but the printer was making a horrible grinding sound and it took awhile for it to print. Finally, whew, it printed! And GEE it only took 20 minutes? WHEN I SHOULD HAVE BEEN ABLE TO RETURN THIS AND BEEN BACK HOME ALREADY. TWICE.
When I get back downstairs to make the return (no, this still isn’t over) I have to stand in line AGAIN and this time after she tries it again says, “It’s still not letting me return it.”
OMIGOD. I’m going to jump over the counter and strangle her.
Finally, after five minutes of punching keys on the keyboard, she finally figures it out. Hallelujah! And it only took what, 45 minutes total to make ONE return?
Oh, I’ve written about Target’s disappointments before, and before, and I’m sure I will again.
The easiest part for me was BEING pregnant. It was difficult to GET pregnant. It was difficult to get UNpregnant. And now the difficutly in the AFTER pregnant is… pain!
Pain in the abdomen from the c-section. Pain in the nipple from breastfeeding. And now I have pain in my wrist.
I have what’s called “the new mommy wrist”. All my doctor says, is that many new mommy’s get it since holding a newborn uses areas of the hand not normally used. And the severity varies from person to person. Her only answer as to HOW to solve it, is to see an orthopedic surgeon.
I also haven’t found a girlfriend yet that’s had it, to gather any advice from, so I must be the wussiest of the bunch. But I have searched online and found plenty of other wrist pain complainers like myself. I guess while I was pregnant, I should have been using my dumbells for wrist curls and forearm buffing.
Basically, I have tendonitis with the pain running from my thumb nuckle down to the middle of my forearm. If I so much as move my thumb a quarter of an inch outward or bend my wrist in attempt to lift, pull or grab, the pain sends me cussing to the sky!
Anyone who encounters me out and about, and can’t SEE the pain happening to me, must think I have tourette syndrome or have an imaginary friend that I’m having a fight with. I’ll do something seemingly ordinary, like try to close my wallet with my left hand, and then I’ll wince in pain and utter a “oh fuck you” or “goddamnit”.
It’s amazing to realize just how much wrist action goes into the small things. Like drying your hands. I have to hold my left hand still and have my right hand drape the towel around it. And with picking up or holding Max, I have to be really, really careful. Not only does my wrist hurt, but it’s weak. I basically slide my left hand underneath him, very carefully, and then hold on really tight with my right.
Rest seems to be the best thing for it. After a couple of days of good behavior and using my hand as little as possible, the pain lessens. But with less pain, I get all carefree and do something CRAZY like squeeze the toothpaste or open a jar of peanutbutter and it sends me cussing to the sky all over again.
Joe went out and bought me a wrap for my hand. I wore it one day, but as much as I wash my hands with the new baby, I have to keep taking it off and on again. Which is a total pain in the ass. And I just don’t want pain there too!
My intention is to post something here every day during the week. Hence the ‘look here daily’. But, the days just seem to get away from me lately and I get a little behind. I THINK about what I want to post here in my head. But actually having TWO hands free to type it out, doesn’t seem to happen! Once Max is feeding less than every 2 hours, I’ll have more free time. Right?
I love these doctors that stress the importance that in between feedings, I sleep and eat well (fatty, high calorie foods like steak and cheesecake). Seriously? There’s NO TIME to do that! Let alone everything else I want to accomplish in the day. If I feed Max at 9:00am – 9:45, burp, change his diaper and HOPEFULLY settle him down into his swing or somewhere all by say 10:30, I have 30 MINUTES to sleep and eat well before it’s time to feed him again at 11:00? Yeah, like I’m going to go out and fire up the grill for a nice juicy steak AND catch a nap. All in 30 minutes. Seriously?
And now that I’m starting to pump in between feedings I’m even more confused as to how they expect me to do that. If I ever want to build up a supply of milk in the freezer, I’ll have to pump all day! They must be joking.
9:00 – 9:45 feed
9:45 – 10:00 burp, change diaper, settle in
10:00 – 10:30 run over to pump machine and pump
10:30 – 11:00 clean and dry pump
11:00 – 11:45 run over to Max to feed
11:45 – 12:00 burp…
Seriously? I don’t get it. WHEN EXACTLY am I supposed to sleep and eat? Let alone things like: take a pee, take a shower, return a phone call, or just any USUAL day to day things.
Seriously. Surely, they jest.
There’s a lot of boob talk around the house lately. Therefore, you may find a lot of boob talk in my blog here too. Great for those of you who don’t mind it. Bad for those of you who think it’s inappropriate. But I’m all for telling it like it is. And if you don’t like it, you can find some great blogs that are more suited for you at an Amish site called www.prudeswhokeeptothemselves.com.
I’ve been feeding Max every 2-3 hours for almost 5 weeks now and my nipples have had it. My left one especially. The nipple was so sore that it felt like Max was sucking a needle through the nipple. A NEEDLE. THE WHOLE TIME HE WAS FEEDING ON IT! The pain level was a toe curling, fist clenching, tears running down my face, 12 out of 10. I put in a phone call to the lactation specialist and my Doctor. They said it sounded like a blocked duct. Common, they said. Just keep feeding and working through the pain and it will work itself out, they said. But I don’t think they understood the LEVEL of pain I was talking about.
So, I attended a breastfeeding support group last Thursday. I’ve never been to a “support” group before. Anything with the word “support” in it makes me want to run away. It sounds like a bunch of people hanging out to complain, cry, hold hands, pray and singing songs. But I have to admit it was a good thing I went.
I’m much better now with some much needed information and “support”. Amazing what a little warm water and olive oil can do. And I was advised to give the girls some air time. “Walk around the house topless for 15 minutes after feeding.” No one here is complaining about that piece of advice. Who doesn’t want to wake up to a topless girl flippin’ pancakes on Saturday morning? Now, don’t you wish this blog post had a picture to go with it?
