Snack Time

Do not judge me, but I just ate about ten of Addie's teething cookies.

That shit is delicious!

Uh Mom, did you just eat my cookies like a total thieving little theif?

Yes, but to be fair. . . it's snowing outside.  SNOWING.  And I'm not allowed to eat chocolate, the least you can do is share your cookies.  

Oh good point!  Yay teething cookies!  And as a side note, thanks for not freaking out too bad when I bit your nipple with my sharp little fangs this morning!

You're welcome!  Now, get out of my way, I want to see what those baby Puffs taste like.

Verdict: they taste delicious.  Baby food is really good y'all.  And when you're snowed in at the end of April you'll pretty much take your desserts where you can get 'em, ya heard?

Vegan. Except That I Still Eat Meat.

So, Adeline spits up. A lot. I know you've heard it because I tell everyone. I tell friends, family, doctors, and strangers, and mainly that's just to apologize for when she does it on them. For some reason people who don't know you, do not think it's adorable when your eight month old pukes purple goo onto their new shoes. Haters.

I'll just eat my banana like a big girl then throw it up later on something you've had recently cleaned.  You're welcome!

Since it doesn't seem to bother her and she's not losing any weight our doctor was kinda like, "Eh, she'll grow out of it." And then right after her brushed it off she puked into a dixie cup she was playing with, and because she's a baby, she then shook the puke-filled dixie cup and suddenly time warped and everything went into slow motion because I knew what was about to happen, and I looked over at our doctor who took a second too long to figure out what was going to happen and suddenly we were both like, "Noooooooooooooooooooooo!" in a deep slow motion voice where your mouth opens and closes like seven times to get the no out, and then - ta da! Me and Adeline were covered in puke! Somehow our doctor managed to avoid the spray (cloak of invisibility?) but me? Oh, no. I got baby puke in places I didn't even know existed. Sometimes it shows up the way sand does in your crotch after you've gotten back from the beach and showered, but then later that night you go to the bathroom and half the oceanfront comes out of your underwear and you're like, "Where the hell did that come from!?"

A lady does not talk about such thing Mama.  Please control yourself at the races.

So anyway, this happened a few times at a few different doctor's visits before he was like, "Ok, we need to figure this shit out."  (Ok, he didn't say that.  But sometimes I wish he would talk like that.  It would make him the best doctor ever.) And we toyed with a bunch of different ideas, and I very much did not want to give her medication if I didn't have to and he agreed so what we decided was no dairy for two weeks to rule out a dairy allergy.

Seems simple enough.  Until you take into consideration I can't have dairy for two weeks because I still breastfeed.  This may not seem hard, until you start it and realize dairy is in everything!!!  So for a week and a half I've had no butter, no cheese, no chocolate, nothing made with butter, cheese, or chocolate, no ice cream, no cookies, and no happiness.

It's been a rough road, but it's worth it if it'll help keep regurgitated food out of my hair for a few hours at a time.  I'll let you know how it goes come Monday, that's when the two weeks is up, but rest assured I will be writing to you from a bathtub full of shredded cheese and ice cream, and I'm not leaving 'til I eat my way out of it!

Also, it's so warm and gorgeous here right now.  If it snows this weekend I can not be held responsible for murder.

Thumbs up Mama!  Spring rules!

I JUST ATE GRASS!

You don't need ice cream Mama, you have me.  Cute, precious, adorable, chubby cheeked little me.

Snaggletooth

Ok, I'm for real getting back on the blogging tip! Starting now!

So, I babysat yesterday for a ten month old. Which means I had a ten month old and an eight month old all day long, and also I DIDN'T DIE! Yay me!



Also, I now have so much more respect for my mom (who had two sets of twins)(TWO). Before I was all, "Pshh twins, what's the big deal, stop whining!" and now I'm all, "OHMYGOD they want to be held at the same time, they want to be fed at the same time, they want to be changed at the same time, and for unknown reasons they both want me to look them in the eye at the same time and I JUST CAN'T DO IT no matter how googly I make my eyes so I just keep going back and forth between their demanding (yet gorge) little baby eyes like a ping pong ball and can get them to stop shrieking for a second at a time in a weird symphony of baby yells so it's like - look, one cries, look, other cries, look, other cries, look, other, look, other, lookotherlookotherlooktoher galksdjfa;lsdjfo;sjdf!"

But it turned out to be fun. For Adeline and me. She's so used to having boring old me to entertain her that having a friend over was like the best thing ever. And then, glory be to all glories, I somehow managed to get them both to nap at the same time and I practically jumped out of my skin with happiness and self proudness with. . . myself. I sat down, poured a glass of wine* and whispered to myself, "Yes. Am amazing babysitter. Can handle anything! Am baby mother fucking whisperer!"

*(but did not drink it as it was only 1pm, and I was babysitting - I poured it just as a little reminder of what I deserved later that night) (then I spilled half the thing trying to pour it back in the bottle because I wasn't so sure my saran wrap would hold for the rest of the day) (slash I didn't trust myself)


And then the other little baby went home and we resumed our usual cuteness.



And toothbrushing.



She loves brushing her teeth.

Well, technically she loves chewing on it and puking on it. I really hope daddy remembers not to use that one.



So yeah, she has three teeth. Well, she either has three or she has two and one of them is just huge and stabby. Her new nickname is Snaggletooth.




She's the cutest little Snaggletooth ever! Even when she bites me and draws blood. BLOOD. Sometimes having a baby is more painful than having a baby. But worth it.

My Baby Set To Music

They see me rollin', they hatin'.



Patrolin' they tryin' to catch me ridin' dirty.




Sorry I haven't written much lately because we've had a lot of visitors recently (well, that and I discovered The Walking Dead)(Which I can only watch during the day because it's too scary to watch at night - I'm already afraid of Addie now because she can get a little growly and starts clawing at me and I'm like, "Don't scratch me I don't want to turn into a walker!" I half expect to have to start bashing in zombie brains AT ANY MOMENT, and have established various escape routes in case my house gets attacked.)


Anyway, I'll get back to it soon. For now, please enjoy Adeline enjoying this super sour pickle.

Seven Months!

Adeline is seven months old now!





Or seven months cute!


To celebrate I paraded her around the house on my shoulders. This new move cracks her shit up big time!






When she was born it was 80 degrees outside and I had a tan. Now there's snow halfway up my sliding door and I'm so pale I'm about the color of the outside. That is to say a lot has changed.

Except it hasn't.

But it totally has.

My boyfriend and I have this talk constantly. Since we brought the little lady home our life has definitely changed. No more late nights at the bars just because. No more. . . and that's where we fall short, because aside from both of us being out late at the same time things haven't really changed a whole lot. Except for the fact that they totally have because we have a baby. We just can't remember what it was like before. Which is really nice. Liking where you are.

At seven months we can pretty much take her everywhere. She goes to the hot springs with us every week, we take her out to dinner with us, on walks, to the store, to friends houses, to the grandparents, on hikes, on bike rides, on walks in the snow to the mailbox. And she loves it all. She loves being out in the community where she has new things to spit-up on. The other day I took her to the library with me and she left a trail of puke all over the fiction section. Good thing most of those books are covered in plastic and that my sweatshirt doubles as a soaker-up-er.

STATS

Weight: 15 pounds

Height: tall

Hair: Brown and a little reddish

Eyes: Gorgeously blue

Movement: Sitting up by herself! (Until she decides to lunge at something she needs, head-first, and the falls over with a thud) Not making any attempts at crawling. Actively dislikes being on her tummy, unless her Dad is also on his tummy trying to make her laugh, then she'll tolerate it for few minutes. However, will take cute step-like things toward her bouncer if you hold her hands while she's standing. May totally skip crawling and go right for walking. Am buying more wine to cope with this as we speak. Also, still thinks head is primary source of getting-over-there-now-please-get-me-over-there. She will head bonk her way through the air until we bring her to whatever electrical appliance she's in love with that day. Little weirdo.

Sound: Is getting more vocal. Makes da-da sounds mostly. Of course. I'm with her all the livelong day but she's going to say da-da first. Oh child-rearing you cruel mistress! Also, she now fake cries. She scrunches up her face and shuts her eyes and whines, and then opens them to see if we saw her. If we did then she'll stop and wait for us to oblige her by reading her mind. If we don't then she proceeds with more of her faking. Is totally cute. Until it's not.

Food: Still nurses, takes a bottle, and devours any type of mashed baby food we feed her. I could be feeding her mashed charcoal, but as long as it's coming to her on a spoon she wants it.

Schedule: Yes we have one! YAY! (of course the laws of the world will govern that by writing it out loud the schedule I've come to love and adore will cease to exist, and hell on earth will begin again)

However, I will do it anyway! Because I like to test boundaries dang it! And really, this is just for me and so I can look back on it later and say, "Oh yeah, that's what life was like".

Schedule:

7am - wake up, nurse, back to crib for quiet playtime.

8am - real wake up, dad gets her up and dressed. she kills the birds on her mobile. she won't let us take her away from her crib until she's ripped at least two of the birds off the spinning device and thrown them to the floor. we have violent mornings up in here.

9am - breakfast, tiny bottle and some prunes. then it's bouncer time.

10am - nap!

11am - nurse while mommy watches some of her stories. either more bouncing or playmat time or if we're having a fussy day get strapped to mommy in the bjorn and help her clean the hizzouse.

12:30 - lunch, mashed peas bitches.

1pm - nap!

2pm - nurse while mommy uses her free hand to do some accounting work. then it's either playmat, bouncer, or bjorn. we mix it up. then we run errands if the weather doesn't suck too much d.

4pm - nap!

5pm - bottle. dad comes home and riles her up. hands back to me to calm down. takes her again riles her up. hands her back. i immediately hand her back and demand a diaper change so i can pee by myself. usually this is floor play time with dad and mom and dog and cat.

6:30pm - dinner, squash and/or pears. what. then we have play and clean up time while daddy goes and starts work on his second job. general crankiness ensues because it's nighttime. i start to sing a lot of justin beiber and/or selena gomez to quiet her soul.

7:45pm - bathtime, or as i like to call it "see how fast you can drench mommy while simultaneously refuse to let your neck folds get cleaned"

8pm - nurse and fast asleep! Hurrah! Mommy pours herself a gigantic glass of wine and has big plans to do stuff but ends up falling asleep in bed watching tv shows on her laptop until daddy comes to bed and then they both read for a while until it hits the late hour of 10pm and they both fall asleep until sometime in the middle of the night when the cat wakes them up!

REPEAT


{please note this is a general schedule for a day we don't have a doctors appointment, a playdate, a swim lesson, dinner plans, serious errands to run, etc. basically its like one glorious day a week :) }

Easy To Please

If I eat a salad every day for lunch and then follow it up with two Reese's Peanut Butter Eggs, does it make the (probably crack-laden) Easter candy less bad for me?

I'm gonna go with - yes.


Speaking of healthy food...


You can't really tell, but that thing in her hand - it's a carrot. And it is making her day.








She really wants to eat when I'm eating and so I handed her a carrot and she's thrilled. She doesn't understand that she's just gnawing on the carrot, she's not really eating anything, she's totally fooled and it's sort of amazingly cute and slightly worrisome. Like when I was a kid and I got those candy cigarettes and I was pretty much convinced I was really smoking and I thought I was AWESOME. Or later when my mom took away my candy cigarettes and so I had to settle for cutting a straw to look like a cigarette, and I would light it on fire a little at a time and suck in burning plastic and I thought I was really smoking that I was AWESOME. Or the time after that when I'd been grounded for fake smoking again and all the straws had been removed from our home so after school one day I took a piece of lined notebook paper, rolled some of our fresh cut lawn into it and actually smoked that and thought I was AWESOME.

Obsess much?

I was heavily influenced by Stephanie Zinone when I was a child.







Anyway, the carrot filled her with such happiness that I couldn't get her to hold still so I could capture said happiness with my phone.


Here she is shaking with glee.


Luckily I'm sneaky and realized I could stun her with my flash into holding still. MAGIC!




Deer in the headlights. Glee contained for four seconds.

Then unleashed on camera.



Never in my life has an appliance been made out with so hard.

Parenting

Things to remember to teach daughter #87

Before eating an apple remove sticker. Don't just say to self, "Oh look, sticker. Will not remove now. Will stop eating before consume sticker. Am not dumb."

Self is always wrong.





I just looked at the apple core of my snack and realized there had been a sticker on there before I ate it, now. . . sticker is most likely decorating the wall of my stomach along with many other apple stickers, some gum from like 7 years ago, and a note I once ate so no one could read the super secret secrets I had written on it. I was like 8. It was probably something about how I'd just learned the word "butt" was hysterical.

I wonder what else I'm missing while I'm eating.











(almost better than Hammer time)