Man's Best Manicurist....

There are a few things I take from today...

1.  I'm definitely not that mom who cries harder for the child when the child gets hurt, gets shots, gets dumped, etc...

2.  No matter how hard you slave over your husband's favorite dinner, the whole eating process may be upstaged by a miraculous moment performed by the 4 month old.

3.  Dogs are man's best friend, t.v. buddy, traveler, park goer, and - manicurist.

4.  A wubby makes everything better.

I'll start with 2.  Daddy B loves Salisbury steak...ever since he tried making it for me one day and royally failed, I've always tried to surprise him with it from time to time.  Today was one of those days.  Since I'm trying to get back into the routine of cooking dinner (by 10:30 a.m., since I work 2:30 p.m. until 9:30 or 10 most nights) I promised myself today to do it...Salisbury Steaks and home made mashed potatoes... SO - taught Zumba, went to the grocery, stocked up on the items we'd need; came home, put the baby down, and got to cooking.  I was proud of the hoops I jumped through to plan it perfectly with a baby feeding in between the patty making, sauce stirring, etc.  And by 1:30, it was complete.  I was so proud.

We've been trying to make sure Li'l B gets the tummy time he needs, because he's insisting on not rolling over until he's 30.  You see, his body is in the 10th percentile, while his head size is in the 90th.  He looks like a lollipop...with hair and dimples.  When he gets on his belly, the arms and legs go out, and his head weighs him down, to where he's surfing - on his chest.  As I'm walking in the door tonight, Big B yells to me that Li'l B has done it. He rolled over.  By himself.  Twice.  We're so excited at the milestone, and dinner is forgotten.  Oh well, it'll heat up well tomorrow.  Pat on the back for doing it.

#1 and #3/#4 go together...

Baby B's finger nails are mean pinchers when he gets fussy, or attacks the bottle as if we've never fed him in his short life.  I swear they're like little needles going at the backs of my arms sometimes.  So it's my job to cut the fingernails.  To this day, I've been so good.  Careful as can be.  Asked several people the best advice on doing it.  Even bought the expensive motorized baby nail file that vibrates at the push of a button.  Someone got major rich off of that.  But after a few tries, what works best for me is just grabbing a small pair of clippers and holding his hand still.  Good hand eye coordination on my part, and the deal is done usually in 3 minutes.  I always knew I could accidentally nick his little skin...and today, I did :(  Now pause.

Jumping to a funny story; Brannan and I dated for 4 years before the wedding in June 2010.  The first year of our relationship was long distance, while I lived in Los Angeles, and he lived here in Baton Rouge.  We talked a LOT.  I can't remember if it was a time when I was visiting home or I had already moved back here, but Brannan had talked me into clipping his toe nails because he said he couldn't do it well (slick eh.)  I took one look at his big toe nail and saw the jagged corners - rough edges.  Seriously looked like he had grabbed a dull pair of scissors to do the job up until now.  I cleaned em up good.  Didn't think anymore of it...but assured him I probably wouldn't be the normal nail clipper.  Fast forward to several months later when we were watching a movie, laying down.  Meet Boss, our 92 Ib Doberman Pinscher, who is the scariest looking, weenie of a dog I know.  If he's not by Brannan's side, he cries.  Yep, cries like a puppy.  Boss was standing at Brannan's side the entire movie.  Then I hear crunching.  Not sure what it is at first, but then look down at Boss. His face is near Brannan's feet.  It didn't take me but 2.4 seconds to put two and two together and realize what was taking place.  It didn't take Brannan long to figure out my realization either.  He smiled.  I was grossed out.  For Lord knows how many years, my boyfriend (at the time) had a manicurist by the name of Boss, the Doberman.  Explains the jagged edges.  Boss loved his job.

Un-Pause from above.  Baby Brannan's thumb was nicked.  Took him a few seconds of not breathing before he waled for 15 minutes.  The damn thing wouldn't stop bleeding.  I felt bad, but it happens.  I walked around the house with him, wet rag around the finger with pressure to get the bleeding to stop, and praying he'd stop crying.  Not one moment did I feel really bad.  Shoot me.  I figured "Hey I made a mistake, and he needed his finger nails clipped".  Again, I felt bad, but it happens.  Poor pumpkin.  It wasn't long before I grabbed one of the 15 "wubbies" and rocked him to sleep, all with is brand new neosporin covered band-aid on his tiny thumb.  Brannan's first Bo bo.  And according to Daddy "it was all Mama's fault". 

So my 2 hour kitchen kick ass was totally upstaged by the tot's rolling over.  Which I cannot be upset about one bit.  I didn't cry with li'l B over my mistake of clipping his little thumb...made me wonder what I'd do in the future when the mean li'l girl breaks his heart (still not ruling out retaliation-mode-mama).  The wubby makes everything better.  And what is Daddy's take on it all?...

...."Babe, next time, let Boss do it; he's gentle"

B with his "wubby", notice the thumb.