Road Trip!

"Hi Mom! Oh, what's that? You want to know why I look so happy? It's because that poop I've been holding in for three days - I just exploded it all over myself, the car, and anyone within a five mile radius! YAY POOP EVERYWHERE!"


So, yeah. We bathed her in a hotel sink because she unleashed three days worth of poop on herself in the car right about the time we reached the middle of nowhere. I'm not kidding when I say we had to throw her clothes away at the gas station because it was just TOO MUCH TO HANDLE. And then we rented a hotel room just so we could wash each other off like a hazmat team.

Ok, we had already rented the hotel room, but still, it was horrific.

She just kept eating, like for three days with no slowing down but nothing was coming out, and I couldn't understand where it was going - was she secretly shuffling off to the bathroom by herself in the middle of the night?

No, she was saving it all for the drive on our first little family road trip.

And then she saved the rest of it for the drive home.

Next time we take a trip the girl is getting an enema first. I'm not kidding.

Still Going Strong

You know what one of the downfalls of motherhood is? Mommybrain. That thing people talk about where you get pregnant, have a baby, and suddenly not only is your hoo-ha forever changed, but your brain has turned into a weird form of semi-functional mush.



You're welcome.

Like, one moment I can simultaneously change a diaper, entertain my baby with a toy, turn on the light switch with my foot, all the while talking to my boss on the phone about a tax return I'm working on but five seconds later when I'm asked what's for dinner I cannot remember the word for "chicken". Like, I CANNOT REMEMBER IT. I can picture a chicken in my head, and I try to will that visual into existence in front of me like a hologram so that I don't have to strain harder to find the word "chicken" somewhere in my brain, that the person who is asking what's for dinner will just see the chicken hologram, not freak out, and go about their business, but of course that doesn't happen, so I'm just standing there slack-jawed, going, "Uhmm. . . that thing. You know, the common thing. It tastes like everything."

"Chicken?"

"Yes! Wait, let me write that down."

Anyway, I have mommybrain big time. I can't remember small things. We just took a walk with the Pork Chop and passed this little pond and I said, "Oh that's a cute . . . Look at that little. . ." and then I just stared at it all confused-like, and instead of pretending anymore that I'm not on the verge of dementia I said, "What is that thing called?"

"A dock?"

"Yes! Look at that cute little dock."

It feels very weird to not know things all of a sudden. It feels like how I imagine the Flowers For Algernon guy felt when his smarts started wearing off.

But what feels even weirder is that at 5am this morning while I was feeding the little lady I could (for completely unknown reasons) recall every single lyric to Shania Twain's, You're Still The One song. EVERY. SINGLE. LYRIC. I haven't heard that song since I was 19 and I memorized it in hopes that my High School boyfriend and I would stand the test of time.

We didn't. We broke up shortly after I memorized her entire cannon.

But apparently Shania did.

I'm not sure why I can't remember important things instead, like the periodic table of elements, or what the hell a caucus is - no, me, I get Shania Twain.

*sigh*

It's going to be a weird few years.

That Girl

I'm not that girl, but somehow I've become "that girl".

Oh, who am I kidding, I'm totally that girl. I invented that girl. I got her copyrighted, and patented, and took all her illegal uploads off youtube.

What girl is that, you ask? Well, I'll tell you. . .

I'm the girl who gets into bed in full sweats and eats Double Stuf Oreos straight out of the crinkly plastic thing, while watching Felicity on her laptop with headphones because her loving partner is laying beside her trying to read or something, who can really pay attention to what your lover is doing when Ben and Noel are fighting again! I mean, why can't Felicity just pick between them already? Clearly Noel is the right choice. Team Noel! Of course she'll never really choose him though. That's like Winona Ryder choosing Ben Stiller instead of Ethan Hawke in Reality Bites. It ain't gonna happen. Ben/Noel is just too good for her, and us women - we don't like what's good for us.

Case in point: the seven Double Stuf Oreos, washed down with Cupcake red wine ten minutes before I fall asleep.

The thing is, I know I'm about to be lectured about how bad that is for me slash how I should really get up and brush my teeth again slash how men do not usually find it attractive to go to sleep with chocolate-cookie-crumble-covered women, in baby spit-up stained sweats, hair in a bun, and wine-splash-stained glasses, that sit crooked on their face due to what I can only assume is a shrinking left ear. And normally I would agree with you, but in my case I don't because it appears as though the father of my child doesn't really care. Stop shaking your head at me, I pretty much got pregnant looking exactly the way I just described so maybe he likes his women to be on the verge of just giving up. Yesterday I did my hair and makeup, but forgot to change clothes, so I spent all day in my pajamas until about 5pm when I realized it and then decided to just say F it and stay in them to see if my baby daddy would even notice.

He didn't.

Well, either he didn't or he's just too nice to say anything.

I'm sure it's the latter. I'm also pretty sure he doesn't like his women to be on the verge of giving up, but again, his mama trained him well and he values his life so there's no way he would turn to me in bed and say, "Oreos and Felicity again? Shouldn't you be, I don't know, eating something healthy and wearing something a little less. . . puke covered?"

And that is why I love him.

Plus if he did try to say something like that I'd just go get this little sucker out of bed and point at her:





This is why I'm the way I am right now.





Worth it.

Five Months!

Five glorious months later, and my boobs are still sore. I've come to the conclusion that my boobs will never be my own anymore. People keep saying that one day they will be mine - but I don't believe them. I believe they are now just casualties of war. Victims in this life of parenthood. Lost souls in a sea of. . . lost . . . uhm. . . souls.

Whatever, you get the point. My boobs are dead to me.

Which is fine by me - have you ever seen a baby right after she's been breastfed?



Oh my god, I'll breast feed you until you're eighteen if you keep looking at me like that!


Anyway, at five months she has no teeth (unlike her cousin), but she chomps on everything, EVERYTHING that gets near her mouth. She'd chomp on her dad's nose all day long if he'd let her.

Speaking of her dad. . . she loves him. Like, really, really loooooooooooves him. If he walks into the room she'll whip herself around so fast I'm afraid she'll end up in a neck brace just to catch a glimpse of him, and then when she does, when she does lay eyes on him - her smile gets so big, and so joyous it makes me want to cry almost every single time. Partly because it just makes me so happy to see how much they enjoy each other, they are like school kids who just discovered the joys of a best friend, they want to see each other all the time and call each other on the phone every five minutes, they want to make friendship bracelets for each other and wear the same thing to school as a sign of their best-friend-ness, their bond that no one else has or can even understand, they understand each other to the core, they have secrets and special abbreviations for their inside jokes, they make up names for each other and give signals across the classroom that the teacher can't see, they buy each other cookies at lunch, and walk home from school arm in arm giggling and racing every other block because they just can't wait to get home to spend more time together. They are in love.

But it also partly makes me want to cry because, hey, remember me? The woman who cares for you all day long? I'M UP HERE.

I definitely don't get the same joy her dad gets, but the I remembered neither did my mom. She was home with us all the time, but the second we heard our dad's car pull into the driveway at dinner time we raced each other to the door to be the first one to headbutt him in the stomach. Out of love. And it didn't mean we loved our mom any less, it just meant we loved our dad that much. And how nice. How wonderful and nice to love both your parents with all that you have, and to be loved back so much you felt it (even though you'd never really understand how much they love you, not until you have one for yourself and then realize - Oh my shit, my parents love me like this? I should probably buy them better presents for their birthdays.)

And while dad is good for fun, and laughs, and smiles from here to the moon, I'm good for a few laughs, and for cuddling, and comfort, and food, and more comfort. It's totally cliche, but it's true. She has different needs for both of us and is thrilled with each of us for giving them to her. Biologically or because we aimed ourselves at her that way - I don't think it really matters who she's getting what from as long as she's getting it.

Got it?

Good.

Moving on!

My five month old? She's a thumbsucker.




Who me?


Yes you.



No. Check that guy over there. I think he was sucking his thumb.

You're doing it! Right now. You're sucking your thumb right. dang. now.



Fine. You caught me. But aren't I cute.


Yes. Yes you are.

And she is. Sucking her thumb is so cute I don't care what people say. And say they do. Strangers have come up to me and said I need to break her of that habit or she'll become addicted.

Addicted? It's not heroin. She's sucking her thumb like a baby. BECAUSE SHE'S A BABY. And also stranger-who-doesn't-know-me, she's soothing herself! Why would I want to stop her from doing something that soothes her? She's five months old, not five years old. You better break yourself.

Ya heard!

Now back up off! I've been to Compton!

Like once or twice.

Well, really I drove through it. With my windows locked. That place is scary yo.

Anyway, five months old. It's crazy. And also awesome.




Very awesome.

Why It's Nice To Know People Who Also Have Little Babies

My cousin's baby is a week younger than Addie which is awesome because having a cousin your age is soooooo nice at family gatherings (someone who can relate to the cray-cray) (also someone who can relate to the fact that her mom just said "cray-cray"), but it's also nice for us the parents because it's someone who can relate to the shit-storm-of-awesome-and-delirium that is parenthood.

A text I just got from my cousin:

"Our current theory is that both of our children have been replaced by tiny assassins. Their instructions were 'slow and painful'."


Oh my gosh, it's funny because IT'S SO TRUE. They are little ninjas with a chemical imbalance.

Little darlings with the fever of a hundred scorned women.

Little bundles of joy wrapped up inside a grenade.

Little angels who aren't angels, but are actually little devils dressed like angels for Halloween, which is EVERY DAY in devil land.

They're lovely. And demon-y.

And yet we love them still. Why? Because of things like this:







Be still my heart.

New Things

So apparently I coughed for the very first time in front of Adeline, because when it happened her whole body shook with shock and she looked at me with the biggest, most what-the-f-was-that eyes I've ever seen! It was simultaneously hilarious and hysterical the way she responded. (Those are the same thing, but still - it cracked me up)

She's starting to be so aware and inquisitive about things that she'll reel with excitement when she sneezes because it feels so funny! And if her dad runs in place at her she laughs hysterically because Oh my god Mom look at dad! He's running but he's not going anywhere! THE HILARITY IS ENDLESS! And that handful of cat hair she just yanked out of the cat? She'll hold it in front of her astonished, as if she's just produced it from thin air. Check it out guys - look what I just made! I. Am. Amazing.

And then when she tried her first beer, this is what she looked like:





WHAT?! This is beer?! Where have you been hiding this magic breast milk?!!!



That's not breastmilk Porks, that's daddy's special daytime drink. It's what helps take off the sting of being an adult. YOU'VE GOT SO MUCH TO LEARN.

Learning Curve

My Uncle got me this pink stuff for Christmas. He's very thoughtful. I'm still vaguely unsure about what it is, but I did feel prettier with it on.


So my best friend is pregnant with her second cute little chubby baby (I'm guessing - if it comes out ugly, big and skinny well I'll still love it), and I am soooooo happy for her! And not for the obvious reasons!



"I'm happy about eating this giraffe."


Obviously I'm happy because she wanted another baby and she's a good mom and blah, blah, blah, but I'm more happy for her because now she's got a second chance! A second chance people! Adeline is only four and a half months old, but already I'm counting all the ways I would change things, all the ways I would do things differently. Not because I did them wrong with Addie, but because I just didn't know any other way. There's no way to know.

I can't stress that enough. It doesn't matter how prepared you are. How many books you've bought. How many times you've babysat. How much advice you've gotten from your new-mom friends. There's. No. Way. To. Know.

I read a shit ton, I babysat my a off, I listened to all things from all people, and totally thought I'd be cool about it all. I thought I'd have some sort of a handle on it, but it doesn't matter how prepared you are - once you get into parenthood something inside of you is going to go, "WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?!" Because no matter how natural, or wonderful, or glorious it feels, it's going to feel equally confusing, desperate, and foreign as all get out. You're going to cry at the wrong things, and laugh at inopportune moments, you're going to freak out and want to hide because oh my gosh, what did you get yourself into? It's all worth it, don't get me wrong, the good outweighs the confusion by a bajillion, but from about week 4 on a little part of you is going to be going, "Oh my gosh I can't wait to have another one so I can do this differently. Or this differently. Suddenly I know ALL THINGS!"

(But just a little part of you, the other part (your vagina) is going to be all, "Another baby? NOW? I'm just getting used to normal underwear again, don't you dare. DON'T YOU EVEN DARE.")

And probably this is only partly true. I mean, we'll definitely handle things differently, and feel calmer about a lot of stuff - but this will be a new baby with new quirks and crazy ways they want to be calmed so the things you figured out time one will most likely not work time two because what I've learned is that babies - they like to mess with you. Mess with you 'til you cry.



"And I'm probably going to laugh and look cute the minute you start."

But still there's the possibility that things will work better! That because of this second chance this time things will be amazing and suddenly you'll be supermom! Knower of things! Fixer of the unfixable! Cry soother to the crying for no apparent human reason! Poop color interpreter extraordinaire!

Things I have learned/I will do differently next time:

1. Swaddle. We always swaddled but we did it with a blanket. Blankets are for teddy bears. Velcro straight jacket swaddles - those are for super-human-strength babies whose arms flail and scare them out of sleep wailing, "Mooooooooooooom! Something just hit me!!! Come make it stop. MAKE IT STOP." We didn't start using the velcro swaddle until she was two months old, and next time I'm strapping the sucker on the baby as she's coming out of my womb.

2. A glass of wine will not hurt the baby. In fact, I'm pretty sure since it calms me down she's getting a better me and thus the glass of wine is in some way helping her. Glasses of wine for everyone!

3. My children are like me and apparently need to eat every two hours. Do not listen to what the doctors tell you - sure some babies can eat every three or four hours, but when mine was crying her head off and I wasn't feeding her because the three hours weren't up yet - well that's just crazy yo. Feed her when she's hungry. Schedules are good but only a white man needs a watch to tell him when he's hungry. (My sister used to say that all the time when she was little. She wanted to be a Native American when she grew up. I'm pretty sure that quote came from Dr. Quinn Medicine Woman, but still, it applies. Somehow.)

4. Write down what you learned because when you want to recall it for a blog you'll forget everything and eat seven donuts instead in hopes it will help you remember. It won't.

*sigh*

I'm just so excited for her. And all the new things she's going to have to learn.

Happy 2012! According to Chinese Calendars This Is The Year Of Spit Up

No, really it is. Look it up.



Merry ChristMAAAAAAAAAAAASSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!

So we took the little chops on her first airplane and she was just like how I imagine Russell Brand would be if I were in charge of him: belligerent and drunk the night before, waking up every hour to scream and/or poop at me, whining the entire time we're in the airport because the bottle wasn't fast enough, then happily passing out the second we're on the plane because my nipple was shoved into his mouth for the entire flight.

Oh Russell Brand, oddly I wouldn't mind any of that. I'm strangely attracted to your crazy face.





Anyway, she was a little terror the night before the flight, and an absolute angel the second we stepped on board. And she slept through the night every night we were there, which of course made me wake up panicked all throughout the night, leaning over the pack 'n play to MAKE SURE SHE'S STILL BREATHING! Occasionally she'd wake up because of my face plastered to hers and look at me like, "Oh mom, back up off. I'm sleeping yo." And then I'd start crying because she was ok. Like a lunatic.

Let me tell you about hormones - they're like nature's tequila. One minute it's the best day of your life and you're trying to get your baby daddy to make out with you like a High Schooler, and the next minute you're crying in the bathroom because you ran out of cheese dip.

I miss tequila.

But before we left we got our first Christmas tree up as a family!



And apparently we put a nighttime landing strip on the Bjorn.

(yes I already put up a version of this picture, but it was the bad version) (plus I'd forgotten I'd already done that)


We had so much fun seeing family and friends who hadn't met the little lady yet, and she loved them all and proved it by spiting up on herself and then staring at everyone she met like this:



"Who are you and do you have milk?"



"What about you? Milk? Oh wait, I think there's some on my lip still!"



"Hi. Listen, you're sort of cool, but I have to ask. . . any milk up in there?"




We also FINALLY got to meet her cousin Leah, born just a week after Adeline was born! (Cut to me crying AGAIN)







Chubby babies!

So, anyway we had a great time! More catch up later, right now I've got some cheese dip calling my name.

Happy New Year everyone!