Rehab

Hi, my name is JulieSue and I'm an addict.

It started so innocently.  I was having trouble falling asleep (even though I was exhausted) and staying asleep (I would hear my baby cry when he was fast asleep OR I would wake up and just stare at the video monitor) so I turned to the OTC aisle at the local CVS.  One night, I popped half a Tylenol PM before bed and, amazingly, I woke up, 8 hours later, feeling refreshed and revived and ready to take on the (baby) world.  It worked so well that I took 1/2 the next night, 1/2 the night after, and then incorporated the pill popping into my nighttime routine (brush teeth, remove contacts, take pill).  At some point, 1/2 a pill turned into 1 pill and occasionally, when I'm feeling extra spunky, I go crazy and take 2 whole pills. 

I called my mom to tell her about my little addiction and she said, "can't hurt you, in fact, you'll get fewer colds."  My mom attended the same medical school as this guy.

A shameless celeb effer, I'm following the lead of my US Weekly headliners and checking myself into Tylenol PM rehab.  This is the same facility that we used when we needed to cure Ari of his pacifier addiction.  Dr. Drew is not here...and it sure is not a "party at the palms" (if you get that reference, I salute you).  I doubt I'll get to see Lindsay Lohan or Catherine Zeta Jones, but if I'm lucky, the manager of this joint (a tall redhead easily bribed with gummy bears) will take pity on me (and my withdrawal symptoms) and slip me some benadryl at 2am.

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Adventures in Babysitting

I'm petrified to leave my baby with anybody.  Neurotic?  Yes.  Okay with it?  Oh yeah.  And now, I have good reason to be.

My husband booked a babysitter for Saturday afternoon so that I could spend some much needed birthday relaxation/beautification time at a spa.  I wrote out a few notes for the sitter (only 2 pages), gave her a quick tutorial on the baby bjorn, and asked her to feed him/play with him/take him for a walk if she wanted to enjoy the beautiful sunshine.   (And this would only cost us 17 bucks an hour.)

Easy enough, right?
Wrong.

There was an early sign that things were a bit outta control when I received a Facebook notification that I had been tagged in a picture.  And here it was:

I didn't realize that the $17/hour included babysitter Facebook-ing.  I can read my baby's mind in that picture.  He's thinking, "This is not listed on the two pages of notes my mommy gave you."

Okay, it's sorta funny...and cute.  A few hours later, Matt came home, paid the sitter, and sent her on her way.  I was relieved when I walked in our front door to find a happy baby playing with Dad.  Ari was squeaking and shimmy-ing and I could tell he had news to share but just couldn't find the words to do so.  He didn't sleep well that night (it had nothing to do with us unswaddling him for the first time in 5 months) and today, when I received an email with more pictures from the sitter, I realized he must have been having nightmares.

The first picture. Good babysitter, way to follow directions:

Okay, I take the blame for this one.  I did show her how to use the baby carrier and suggest she take him on a walk (outside):

The $60 was already burning a hole in her pocket.

And now, things get really disturbing.  Eat - She figured out.  Walk - Check.  Play - This is not what I had in mind!!  And to make matters worse, this bed is not in my house:

My poor baby.  Can you see the fear in his eyes?

I thought things couldn't get much worse after her escapade with my baby on the bed...until I saw this:

Who is this person?  And why is my son feeling her up?  And why is she enjoying it?  (She should be paying me $17/hr for cheap thrills!)  And who is the chick in the background watching?  And where's my babysitter?! 

I want my money back.

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