Where babies poop sunshine

There is a tiny children's library in the mall near my home. They host story time and sing-alongs for kids throughout the week, and the two times I've taken Kate, she nearly worked up a lather she was so stoked to be clapping, swaying and watching tons of babies and moms basically make fools of themselves. I was horrified the first time I went. I literally thought to myself, "I don't belong here." This happened the second time we went back, but despite all my misgiving I saw how much Kate was enjoying it, so I vowed to make it a priority that we go once a week and that I actively participate instead of thinking how much more I would enjoy it with a cocktail in hand.

This morning, Kate woke early and surly. I mean, this was a girl who was NOT a happy camper. And for no obvious or outward reason. I called Ben to complain about how hard life is when your toddler thinks you are an idiot and he invited me to meet him out for lunch. I figured having Ben in charge for an entire lunch hour was just the break I needed so I loaded Kate in the car seat where she screamed at top voice for the full 15 minutes it took to get to the restaurant. As soon as we entered the door and she saw Daddy though, girl turned into an absolute angel. I mean, playing peek a boo, waving, flirting with strangers and all around charming the pants off everyone around her. I knew better. While young, she is still my daughter and her ability to manipulate the people around her are uncanny. But at least she was good, and she ate like a champ. Half an avocado, chicken, black beans, corn. This girl was taking it DOWN.

After lunch, Ben put her in the car seat and she groused slightly until he closed the door and was out of ear shot. And then, as soon as she knew we were alone, she gave a piercing howl and proceeded to give me an ass chewing for just being alive. I decided that it was now the perfect time to go to the mall for the sing-along, because I could not stand the thought of taking Kate home and being yelled at for an entire afternoon. I figured the class would entertain her and I may even get to do some shopping afterwards.

Foolish.

We arrived slightly late and took a seat in the corner. Now, I probably will have to do a whole other post dedicated to the stay-at-home mom in Dallas, but needless to say some moms intimidate the hell out of me -- and this class was full of them. I found myself apologizing when Kate crawled over to play with someone else's baby, because everyone else's kids are just kind of sitting around and staring into space or actually singing along, and Kate wants to, you know, PLAY. Like, come ON, what is WRONG with you? You don't get it, here you just stick my fist in your mouth, like this...

And then I'm apologizing for my daughter sticking her full fist in some kids mouth. Who, by the way, didn't really seem to mind, but whatever.

So I keep Kate in my lap during the singing, and she really is just NOT enjoying it. But I grit my teeth and we stay through the entire half hour. Once the formal class is finished and people start to file out, I let Kate down to cut a rug, and she is crawling around like a manic off her meds. At one point I look down to see her urp up a little lunch and crawl right through it. I'm embarrassed and start to swing down to grab her but she is on the move and before you can say "STOP, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD!" she horks up her entire lunch, I'm talking PROJECTILE vomits, all over the floor next to some woman's shoe.

Some women's DESIGNER shoe. I'm stunned. She is stunned. Kate is FINALLY happy and starts babbling as she PLAYS WITH HER VOMIT ON THE FLOOR.

It is at that moment that I seriously hoped lightening would strike me dead. Sure, Kate would be an orphan, but Ben has a good family support system, and I think they would be okay. I start spewing apologies as I mop up the mess and can literally feel my face go from embarrassed red to KILL ME, KILL ME, KILL ME red.

We hustled out of there and I rushed to the car, where I stripped Kate naked and strapped her in her seat. Despite having just emptied the contents of her stomach, she seemed to finally be back to my sweet and loving baby. She stroked my face and cooed at me and there was no screaming or fussing of any kind. I got her home and into bed and she conked out and is still sleeping. My guess is that she is probably is having lovely dreams of puppies and rainbows and music sing-alongs with bells.

I on the other hand have the shakes, nausea and am dreaming of world where babies poop sunshine. Where, oh where, is THAT world? I'd be a really good mommy there...

My commitment

In our kitchen is a framed photo that was signed by a bunch of our friends on the night of our engagement party. I'm not sure why, but lately every time I pass it I focus on a note in the upper right hand corner. It says, "Don't forget to have fun."

At the time, that little note seemed so funny. I mean seriously, Ben and I? We were the epitome of fun. We could have been the King and Queen of the Fun Prom if there were such a thing. I mean, okay, its not like I ever removed my panties and danced on a bar, so maybe I'm not THAT fun, but we still had a few good laughs every day we spent together.

And while it seems amazing that it is even possible, I think Ben and I have forgotten to have fun lately. Ending each day exhausted, stressed and thanks to our little germ factory, sick, we often can't work up enough energy to talk to each other, let alone do something FUN. In fact, I noticed the other night that more often than not, after Kate is down we spend time on the sofa on our respective iPhones doing something social with other people (Facebook, Twitter, Words with Friends) rather than interacting with each other.

We used to have so much fun together. We were always going out with friends, playing Wii or a board game, going for a jog or playing tennis. Then I got pregnant and was always tired. We both became stressed about work and life decisions. To work or not to work. What to do next in life. Feeling the pressure of supporting an entire family on just one income. It all become a lot.

Now, don't get me wrong, we still have fun. We just have to work harder at it than we used to, and sometimes it just feels like a bit too much.

This past weekend, Texas experienced an unprecedented snowfall. While the rest of the country may be tired of the white stuff making life miserable, we were ecstatic. The city shut down on Friday and Ben and I both worked from home with a fire in the fireplace, hot coffee in our cups and Kate playing on the floor. When Kate went down for her nap, I talked Ben into taking a work break and going outside to build a snowman with me. I used the excuse that I wanted Kate to have one to take photos with, but truly I wanted to recapture some of our old selves. We pulled on our warmest sweatshirts and found gardening gloves in the garage (yes, we don't own snow gloves... we live in TEXAS for God's sake). And we went outside and built a damn good snowman.

And it was fun. We threw snow at each other, we borrowed a carrot and coal from a neighbor, gave another neighbor tips on rolling snow and ended up with the biggest (and best dressed) snowman on our block. After Kate woke up we took some photos with the snowman to commemorate the day it snowed in Dallas.

My heart was full. And I knew that I wanted to recreate it by taking steps to be more active, more aware and more PRESENT in my day-to-day life with my amazing family. I am so blessed, and so in love with the life I've been given. And I know that it is up to me to take advantage of every single moment, every single second and treasure it.

And for that reason, today I made the commitment to give up my social networks for Lent. I will no longer rock Kate to sleep while reading updates on Facebook. I will talk to my spouse instead of Tweeting the things I'm thinking. I will create opportunities for cherished memories with people I love, instead of interacting with people I sort of know. That is my commitment. I can't wait to get started.

Seriously, we only had mini-carrots so we had to borrow a nose-size carrot from our neighbor. The hat, mine. Pretty sweet right? I bought it about a year ago and quickly realized it was a mistake when Ben mocked me relentlessly. I never wore it in public. Glad Frosty got to rock it.Ben is 6'7" at least. So this snowman is nearly 7 feet tall. Yes, I give you permission to be amazed. Ben nearly threw his back out getting the middle lifted into place.

Kate is just confused by all the white stuff. I also think she may remember the incident where we sat her in snow for a photo opp during Christmas, without gloves or ski pants, so she is a bit wary of what is going to happen next.But when standing, with gloves and shoes on... yeah, this white stuff is kind of cool.

My Funny Valentine

Today seems like a good day to share the moment my heart was swept away from me. It was only a week ago actually. Saturday, February 6, 2010. A day that will live with me forever.

My family was in town, and I was given the luxury of a long shower (without cartoons or wailing baby in the background) while Kate entertained my folks. Once clean, dry, dressed and -- HAIR DID -- I came back into the living room and scooped Kate up for a hug while I chatted with the group. Obviously, I wasn't paying her enough attention, so Kate reached up her perfect, tiny little hands and placed them on either side of my face until I faced her and looked into her eyes. Then, ever so gently, she leaned forward and gave me the most gentle and loving kiss I've ever received. I nearly cried it was so sweet. It was if she was saying, "I know you weren't gone long, but I want you to know that I missed you and I love you."

The thing is, I know Kate loves me. She cuddles and snuggles and wants me around when she is hurt or tired. But she had never kissed me before. Our funny bunny always ducked when we'd come at her with a kiss, so when she wanted to show a little affection, she would gently lay her forehead against ours. But we couldn't get her to kiss us no matter how hard we tried.

And that is the part that melts my heart the most, that I wasn't looking for a kiss. I wasn't puckered up at her, trying to teach her what "kiss" meant or even trying to sneak in a cuddle. At that moment, while I was holding her she somehow connected the love we feel for her with the act of giving her a kiss, and she felt that love and wanted to share that with me. It humbled and amazed me.

The group "aaaahhhhed" -- so of course my little showgirl gave me six more kisses in a row. The last four or so open-mouthed as she grinned at her fans. And of course then she got bored with the game and was ready to be put down so she could go terrorize the dogs, or eat a leaf or poke a finger in a light socket, and the tender moment was all but forgotten for her.

But I will never forget it as long as I live.

Hell is a Waldorf Astoria

I've seen Hell. It is a 10x10 room in a Waldorf Astoria in Key West, containing a teething infant with cabin fever and freak 40 degree weather plus monsoon. Oddly enough, Hell is apparently also my recent family vacation.

In January we took our very first vacation as a three-person unit which meant the vacation didn't revolve around ME and MY needs. It SUCKED. If Ben and I had weather ruin a beach vacation, I could handle it. I mean, give me lemons and I'll make a damn good lemon drop martini and new friends at the hotel bar. Give me an infant, a parka and a monsoon and I can't make shit except maybe a really bitter glass of lemon juice, squeezed to perfection because violence towards humans is frowned upon and something had to feel my wrath.

I mean OH MY GOD. Truly, I tried to write this post a few times and failed because I couldn't seem to adequately describe the sheer misery of our family vacation. Kate couldn't sleep because she was teething, we couldn't sleep because Kate was awake and I flooded the bathroom and bedroom very nearly electrocuting myself in the process. We didn't see the beach until the last day, we didn't have clothes that were warm enough for Kate and we couldn't walk anywhere because it was raining so hard most of the weekend. We spent too much money on crappy hotel food and spent $20 to walk for 5 minutes through a butterfuly museum because we were desperate to get out of the hotel room. We probably watched 48 full hours of cartoons because my whole "Kate shouldn't watch too much TV" parenting stance changed the instant I realized I had exactly FOUR toys to entertain a nine month old for FOUR days. I knew it was too much when I heard myself saying, "Oh crap, we've seen this Handy Manny. It is the one where he teaches the tools to wash their hands" I mean, shit. SHIT. We also watched about six hours of a VERY creepy show called Imagination Station, with a cast of grown men that I'm certain all share a nice joint after each taping.

We were so desperate to leave, we almost didn't stick around our last day, but decided that flying standby with an infant was a gamble that we just couldn't take. And lo and behold, the sun came out that last morning before we had to go to the airport. Kate got to feel the sand between her fingers, and I got to take the first picture of the trip to show "HA! We DID go to the beach when you were a baby." Then we headed to the airport where of course, the bad vacation fairy visited us again and our flight was canceled. Five extra hours in an airport with an infant? NO PROBLEM. Seriously, the Universe was being a complete ass-clown that weekend.

I have never been so happy to come home from a vacation. While Ben and I were seriously disapointed in our experience, I feel like somewhere deep down there was a lesson in there. One lesson I learned is that if the government wanted to crack some terrorists all they need to do is stick them in a small room with a few infants and no entertainment. Although, I don't think that is the life lesson I was supposed to come out of this with. Maybe it is the fact that while the vacation didn't meet expectations, it was time together, and I should be thankful for it. Because for all the crappy moments, it is worth that one single moment when Kate is experiencing something new, something joyful. Something that we get to be a part of.

Mommy lesson #8

No one tells you.

No one prepares you for the fact that your beautiful, amazing, wonderful bundle of giggly goodness will make you change diapers that are so unholy they make the baby Jesus cry.

Sure, infant diapers are messy and slightly stinky. I admit it is more than just a bummer when there is a "blow-out" or what I like to call "shit storm" -- those times that there is just too much poo for one measly diaper to handle. But I toughened up. I can take it. I can take THAT anyways.

But no one warned me about solid foods, and what they do to my sweet, innocent baby. Solid foods changed Kate. They turned her into a manly pooper and I don't think there is any going back. I certainly can't go back to the time when I was innocent and unaffected by her man-poop. The first time I smelled, and then changed a turd in a diaper, I knew things would never be the same. It is just unnatural, and after I picked myself up off the floor, I decided that Kate is going to be formula fed until she is potty trained.

Problem solved.

No Fear. No Kidding.

I'm fairly certain that my blood pressure has gone up in direct correlation with Kate's mobility. After having an infant and watching her grow into a mobile mini-toddler, I'm honestly shocked that we've survived as a species at all. If Kate were growing up in the stone age, it is highly likely that she would have already been stampeded by a rhino or eaten by a saber tooth tiger. Or just crawled off a cliff.

Because this chick HAS NO FEAR.

I mean, sure, I'm happy she feels all safe and content and has never had to know caution, but I'm a big believe in a healthy level of fear keeping us safe from doing stupid stuff, like laying in the middle of a highway, bungee jumping or cutting our own hair.

But take an infant and give her a room to sit in and she will discover something, ANYTHING that can potentially cause her harm, and she will be instantly attracted to it. Like a moth to a flame, electrical outlets, cords, the fireplace, the toilet, dog bowls, the bottom of my shoe (TOXIC!!), these things have a siren song that just can NOT be ignored by anyone under the age of 2. Or at least by my daughter. Maybe your kid is under two and content to just hang out with his or her toys and chill. You know what I say to that? SUCK IT.

The point is, you can baby-proof all you want, but unless your house is made up of ONE room that is empty save for padded walls and a soft floor, you are F-ed. Seriously. We have one room in the house that I can look around and feel fairly safe letting Kate roam, but the other day I looked down to write an email while Kate played on the rug, and next thing I know Kate has a random leaf in her mouth and she is choking and spitting up all over the place. Where she found the leaf, since I have to vacuum every damn day is beyond me, but likely she had been saving it in her diaper for just the right moment when I wasn't looking and she could savor all its earthy flavor.

I hope it tasted like crap.

New year, new blogger

New year, new blogger. You know, like the kind who actually WRITES on their blog instead of thinking about it constantly and never follows through. That is my New Year's resolution. Sadly, I have several months of silence to catch up on, and it seems that I may never be able to share all the wacky, amazing and straight out bat-shit crazy things that have happened in our lives. But, here is a top 5 list of things that happened in the past few months to get you all a little more up to speed.

1. Last time I posted, Kate had sprouted her first little tooth. It was tiny and adorable and I ooh'd and ahh'd over it regularly. Flash forward three months and Kate is on her way to full barracuda status with FOUR razor sharp teeth that she uses to pry open beer bottles and intimidate baby sitters. Okay, I'm lying about the baby sitters but seriously, she has got a full set of chompers and OH LORD when she smiles her big ol' toothy grin, she looks like the cutest damn hillbilly this side of the Mississippi.


2. In early October, Kate started army crawling, which quickly turned into regular crawling, which very quickly morphed into speed racer crawling, and immediately nothing in our home was safe. By mid-November (the week before Thanksgiving to be exact) Kate learned she could pull herself to standing on, well, just about anything. She has been standing ever since. In her crib, in my lap, in the bath tub... well, you get the picture. And now, (Ta-da!!) by the end of December she is "cruising" very tentatively. We are fairly certain walking around without assistance is just a few short months off. Okay, I'm kidding. I actually fully expect her to be walking into the kitchen to fix herself a snack by January 22.


3. Speaking of snacks, Kate has quickly learned the art of eating and formed her very own carb addiction. While she still isn't a big fan of anything being shoved into her mouth by a spoon, if she can feed it to herself, she is on it. Specifically, she is a HUGE fan of bread, crackers, cereal and rice cakes. Veggies she can tolerate, fruits are the devil and if the meat comes in the shape of a stick (a la Vienna sausages) she would likely strike a deal to sell her first born for a bite.


4. Since October, I've been doing part-time contract work, which lead to Kate starting Mother's Day Out two days a week. Kate loved it. I loved it. There was a bunch of loving going around until she started dragging home every single germ that existed on this big wide planet. This season, our family has had colds, eye infections, the swine flu, an upper respiratory infection and finally the croup. The season came to a head the week leading up to Christmas when Kate had not only her first trip to the emergency room, but also her SECOND trip to the emergency. Both trips lasted more than two hours and nearly forced me to check in to some sort of mental hospital. Long story short, a stinking cold that lead to croup nearly took our entire family down. Oh, and note to parents out there -- never EVER take your kid to a regular ER. They are stupid and will call you three days later to let you know your child has pneumonia, even when a pediatric specialist later reviews your infant to let you know that actually your kid DOESN'T have pneumonia and you spent the last 24 hours freaking out for nothing. But you know, whatever.


5. Kate turned 9 months old this month and while we haven't had her check-up yet because of the holidays, she is an extremely happy and healthy 18 lbs. bundle of joy. She says mama, giggles when you tickle her and has a huge attitude when things aren't going her way. She is already a character and we can't WAIT to see what 2010 brings us. Stay tuned. I'm sure we have lots to look forward to.