We are Geis!

I need to roto-rooter MY FACE.

noreply@blogger.com (Gena) — Tue, 04 Jan 2011 03:53:00 +0000

OMG, ya'll.... I am so sick (and not just "of being preggo").... For realz....

I have crushing sinus pressure and I feel like I am walking around in a cotton-stuffed bubble of super gravity. I feel like crappo and poor Lizziebeth, she just doesn't understand why Mommy is so groggy and sad. She has her own problems to deal with, things like TWO UNCUT-ABLE CANINES whose tiny white appearances remain just under the surface of her gums. She is so miserable, whiny, and chewy.

We struggled through waffles this morning and then we fought our way through leftovers for lunch and in between, I hugged my box of Kleenex and E chewed her fingers and we both cried and we both loudly accused the other one of "being an ungrateful, insensitive asshole". (God, that kid has a MOUTH on her....)

Oh, and the contractors were in and out the door, up and down the stairs, banging and painting and continuing to transform our bathroom into the spa I deserve. (Do you have any idea how awkward it is to doze in your recliner while a crew of sweaty laborers tramples through your house?) (Also, have I mentioned how much drool I am producing this late in my pregnancy?) (Yeah. Awkward.)

By the time Stephen dared to step foot through the door from work, I was done. Lizzie was done. Chewie just wanted ONE PERSON to say hi to him and not scream or pull his fur. I had picked up some cheddarwursts and augratin taters for hubby to enjoy on his last night home (now that we are less than 24 hours out, I can say that he leaves in the early morning for 3-weeks). It was the most delicious yet least difficult hubby-fav-meal I could come up with. I do what I can.

The day is finally over and the heathen is tucked in her crib and I've partially got the dishes soaking and now I'm waiting for my sleeping pill to do it's magic. Yay! It's the small things in life. :)

*****************

We finally got Lizziebeth a big-girl car seat. We haven't been too worried because she was still within the height requirements of the infant seat and her weight hasn't topped 20 lbs for very long. Now that Charlotte is imminent, however, we need that seat!

I researched and google-ed and finally decided on the Britax Advocate.

I. Love. It.

It is burly and stout and the fabric is softer than our sectional. And she loves it and doesn't scream in the car ~~as much~~.


The fabric is called Opus Grey. Doesn't that sound exotic?!

Side impact air bags. Crumple zones. That's hot.

**************

Today, at the grocery store, I caved in to my sour cream and onion craving and bought a bag of chips.

I resisted opening the bag until just now and I'm sad to report that, due to mucus over-production and poor drainage, they taste like crap.

Well, more like cardboard, but equally disappointing.

SAD FACE.

*Also, I wasn't paying attention to the TV, but my husband just exclaimed "MAN! Catholicism is SO COOL!" and I am too scared to ask why.....*

Resolutions. I haz dem.

noreply@blogger.com (Gena) — Mon, 03 Jan 2011 04:24:00 +0000

I know it's cliche and kitchy, but I made a few resolutions this year. 2011 is going to be rough on me so I've decided to make it my bitch and make lemonade out of lemons and all that jazz. I've also gone the selfish route and decided to devote this year to myself.

I KNOW. How dare I?!

I'm not saying I'm going to neglect the dog or start feeding my kids twinkies or anything. I mean, COME ON, twinkies? Those are Mommy-snacks. Let's be reasonable.

Why has 2011 already gone down the suck-hole? Well, for starters, Stephen will not be joining us for most of the year. I'm not at liberty to say when he will or will not be home, but let's just say that mathematically;

His days "on land" and not "under the water" / Days in 2011

comes to "roughly" 18%

Soooooo... yeahhhhhhhh.....

Out of those 18% days, most of them are still work days (5am to 4,5,6+ pm) and some of them will be duty days (not coming home between 2 work days). Sometime in 2011, he will deploy for 5-7 months. Now, understand, I AM NOT COMPLAINING. We are on sea duty now and this is what I signed up for and yada yada. I know. I'm simply setting up the story here so peeps know where I'm coming from.

The other not-so-small change in our family is that we will be adding another person very soon. Like, any day now (unless I end up pregnant FOREVER). The first half of 2011, I will have two kids under two years of age and I'm not too sure just how that's all gonna work out. I am optimistic but realistic. I am sure we will survive. Somehow. Probably.

Our family is basically rolling +1 child, -1 parent this year so I think we can agree that Mommy needs to get her shit in one sock and find her big girl panties. This is where my resolutions come in.

I gotta take care of ME. The kids and the animals and the house, they will need guidance and cleaning, but Mommy needs to have a happy place to go to when she needs a recharge. A calm, happy, organized, healthy, encouraging place. Here's my game plan to make that happen:

1. Good fuel - I'm going to continue tracking my calories like I did during pregnancy, to be accountable for what I eat. I'm not going to pin down a set intake amount or vow to lose 197 pounds or anything. I'm just going to be aware and give myself props for making good decisions. This worked very well for me in my 1st and 2nd trimester.

2. FlyLady - I love this system and I incorporated a ton of good ideas from her this last year. I plan on building on this foundation, making more detailed schedules, continuing to declutter. This decision brings me great joy.

3. Focus on my hobbies - Blogging, photography, taking my girls on outings. Making time for the things that make me happy and fill me with joy. Letting go of the things that really don't matter.

Now let me tell you what I'm NOT going to do:

-be a slave to my house chores

-take on activities that stress our schedule

-feel guilty if I don't cloth diaper

-feel sorry for myself

-stress about tomorrow or regret yesterday

-be too proud to ask for help

I know, I KNOW, I'm sounding like a gosh darn hippie now. I'm just trying to make it as easy as possible to get through the days, be a good mom and maybe even have some fun. WHO'S WITH ME?!

End of this serious-speak, for now.

***********************

Holy SNOW STORM Batman!

We got over 10" this last week and we were stranded in our house (sad) (not).

Now that it is warming up, the snow is finally melting, but still.....


Snow = Chewie crack


Vehicles completely covered


Back yard


Back yard


Front neighbors

**********************

38 weeks.

I'm there.

My feet are finally starting to swell and my rings are too tight and I whine and complain where ever I go.

I'm pretty sure Charlotte is head-butting my cervix into submission while kicking up stomach acids into my esophagus. Also? All I do is pee.

All. Day. Long.

I pee and I eat and I can't sleep. Needless to say, I am ready to get this baby out. Soon.

******************

The other day I lost one of my brand new diamond earrings that I've had all of two weeks, MAYBE. I combed the house and screamed irrational things at my husband and threatened suicide. It wasn't pretty and I'm not proud.

I found that earring yesterday and I cannot tell you how much happier I am now. I think I had more joy finding that lost little bugger than I did when I originally got them. Almost like I got them twice. How cool is that?!?!

*****************

Night interwebz. I've missed-ed you.

2010 Lizzie (Picture A Day)

noreply@blogger.com (Gena) — Sat, 01 Jan 2011 22:40:00 +0000

It's a new year and I'm ready to embrace a new attitude.

[more details to follow]

**********

Let's start off with a video montage of 2010, Lizzie-style.

<3

Photo and video editing at www.OneTrueMedia.com

Happy Halloween!

noreply@blogger.com (Gena) — Mon, 01 Nov 2010 03:12:00 +0000

Happy Halloween!

The cutest Minnie Mouse you ever saw?

REALLY?!?!

(I thought so too :)

We loaded up her stroller with cereal (I called it "hush money" all night long) and neglected to pack a blanket or 2nd layer for her. Because we are winners. As usual.

She smiled, three times, and that was it. The rest of the time, she ate her cheerios and simply stared blankly at each of our friendly, candy-bearing neighbors. Somehow that made her even cuter? I had various names for her; "Disgruntled Minnie", "Melancholy Minnie"......

She made it about 11.5 houses before she petered out and we went home. She ended up being hand-carried by Daddy, wrapped in a jacket. At the current time of 11:07pm, I have already eaten ~1/3 of her candy but the night's still young.....

****************

2009 Halloween

Costume is STILL APPROPRIATE.

She is a hot little pepper <3

*********************

2010

The. Coolest. House.

Hands down.

Update: sore boobs and MY GOD, WHY ARE YOU CRYING...

noreply@blogger.com (Gena) — Fri, 29 Oct 2010 02:29:00 +0000

Sometimes I forget why I started this blog.

The other day, I went back and read about 9 days worth of our first month as a family. I started to tell Stephen how, back then, every day, every hour, was touch and go. It felt like I was barely surviving. I think I'm going to start re-reading those early posts to remind myself that it DID get better. I need to get more grateful-er.

Because the last few months? Balls to the wall. I'm not even kidding. Stephen made Chief and went through a five week induction. Lizzie cut, like, a bazillion teeth (all four pre-molars) and I went from cute-preggo to grossly-distored-angry-preggo. Also? The dog won't quit eating baby toys.

I'd like to say I'm doing it all with perfect poise and a grateful heart and all that jazz but LET'S BE REAL.

*****************************

Two More (GRAPHIC) Reasons I love being Pregnant?

1. My nipples are on fire. Every morning I expect to find a cheese grater and a lemon wedge in my nightshirt. Or maybe some 60 grit sandpaper and a salt lick. SOMETHING that might account for the rawness and burning. The nursing night-terrors have begun. I'm starting to get nervous about all that newborn nursing madness.

2. Constipation? Nah. Constipation is what E gets when she eats a banana every day for a few days in a row and then poops pellets. What I have? I don't even know. The only image I can bring to mind, the only metaphor I can imagine, has to do with bricks. In my bowels.

*********************

I've started rocking Lizzie before her naps. I don't do it every time and it doesn't make her fall asleep. She has never been the rocking type. When she's tired, she usually whimpers and whines until someone dumps her in her bed, where she prefers to sleep.

Something has changed recently. Maybe it's the pre-molars she had been working on cutting for over two months or a new found sense of separation anxiety or possibly even Daddy's erratic schedule during Chief Season. Whatever the reason, she seems content to be held close and rocked in her squeaky rocking chair. She fondles my necklace or insists on playing my least favorite game of all time; Fingers in Mommy's Mouth. GAG!

Eventually she starts half-humming/half-growling and that's my cue to start singing her a song. I hum a lullaby I made up or an invitational hymn like Jesus Saves or Just as I Am or Softly and Tenderly. She stares off glassy-eyed, listening, peaceful. I slow down and let myself relax and be in the moment. Things right now are so crazy and rushed and this is the time for Mommy to shush and rock.

Sometimes we barely get settled and comfortable before my brain sighs and the tears start to flow. Not sad tears or upset tears, I'm simply full to the brim with emotion and responsibility and this is where my body and my mind stop long enough to let my feelings catch up with the rest of me.

One day I will comfort my daughters as they cry over bullies or boys or shattered dreams, but not today. Today, Elizabeth comforts me as I silently cry over my insecurities. That I'm not spending enough time with her. That I will fail when Stephen deploys and leaves me to care for her and her sister. That I'm doing it wrong, this life-business, focusing on the wrong things, neglecting the important. Also? I'm pregnant; rational emotions are optional.

Life is tough. I know it's just a season and soon it will be over, but I am tired and crabby and selfish and jealous. As I rock, I think of Elizabeth. I hope she knows she is loved by her Mommy. Like my absent-minded husband, I forget that she doesn't just "know" I love her. She needs to be reminded, hugged, uplifted, every day. We don't read enough books or go on enough outings, but I try to be patient, to greet her in her crib with smiles, to look into her eyes and learn her personality. I hope I am never the parent to her that I had growing up.

I compose beautiful and humorous blog posts in my head while I rock. They never make it here, to this page, but the mere act of contemplating them, of solidifying their memory, THAT is the purpose of even attempting to blog them in the first place. So they don't get shuffled around and lost in the stacks of "other stuff" that won't even matter 20 years from now.

Sometimes I am selfish and think of myself. How my life IS hard. How my sacrifices ARE over-looked. I need that pity party. I need to acknowledge my feelings and cry out some angst and then move on. I feel better. I feel rejuvenated. Sometimes? I realize I'm being a big puss and need to check myself. Those are the best times because self-realizing that you are over-reacting is WAY BETTER than having someone else try to tell you. (Ask my husband :)

I'm really staring to enjoy our occasional rocking sessions. They probably won't last much longer. She is transitioning to one nap now and soon enough there will be TWO little girls grappling for my attention and before you know it, I'll be arguing with them over bare-midriff tee-shirts and curfews and junk and I'll be screaming in my head GET YOUR ASSES IN THE ROCKING CHAIR AND SHUP UP FOR A GOSHDARN SECOND. Mommy has needs too, ya little punks.

-----------------------------------------

No, I didn't have two coherent thoughts to rub together for a blog entry today. Even with 6 weeks of down time, this is all I can come up with; preggo complaints and "that story where I explain why I'm crying all the time". I'm also working at break-neck speed on this little house of ours and preparing to lose my husband to a new submarine and it's hectic deployment schedule.

What I'm really trying to say is that I miss coming here and venting and I'mma try to come back more often but I'm not making any promises. This blog always seems to be the first thing to get left by the wayside when things get rough and I feel like that's how it should be. Let's just agree that life is crazy and we are gonna try to stay friends, mkay?

The days. The hours. THEY ESCAPE ME.

noreply@blogger.com (Gena) — Wed, 01 Sep 2010 15:27:00 +0000

I don't want to blog at all lately. I want to eat the last two cupcakes in the kitchen and then take a nap.

Okay, that's a lie. I already ate those last two cupcakes a few minutes ago. But I'm still wanting that nap. So. Bad.

I'm 20 weeks pregnant with baby Geis #2 and these 20 weeks have raced right by me. They have vanished into thin air. The first trimester was a blur because I needed like seven naps a day. I figured the second trimester, the supposed "honeymoon phase", would be a place to relax and regain some energy.

That would have been awesome except then Stephen made Chief. He is getting promoted to E-7. Unlike the other promotions, this one involves an "initiation" period. I'm not at liberty to go into the details but I'll sum it up as five weeks of Homework, Late Nights, and Last-Minute Scavenger Hunts. He is exhausted, I am exhausted, Lizzie is amazingly MORE energetic. It's been fun.

Two more weeks. Two more weeks.

******************************

At Lizzie's one year check-up, the doctor was concerned at some of her social milestones she is missing. One of them was her lack of pretend-play with baby dolls or stuffed animals. I was totally freaked out, just like last time when the doctor was worried because she wasn't clapping. That very day, after we got home, she grabbed her baby doll, that she has never even looked at before, and started playing with her face. I mean, really? Gawd.....

And now, when Daddy gets home, she crawls over to his lap and climbs on him and lays her head down on his shoulder and pats his back. Never to me. Just to Daddy. FML....

**************************

No, Lizzie isn't walking. STOP ASKING. I'm totally getting a complex about it. She is 13 months and she pulls up and cruises but she HATES to be led to walking. She is the fastest crawler I have ever seen so I doubt she walks soon. I'm not too bothered because I'm just starting to get "really" pregnant and Mommy's too old/fat/preggo to chase a walker. Especially a new walker who's always falling and getting into sticky situations and making havoc.

Course, she's probably teaching herself to walk in the middle of the night, in her crib, and she's waiting to get good and stealthy at it before she surprises the shit out of me and like, runs out the door and into the street. Naked. Screaming obscenities. BECAUSE THAT'S SO LIKE HER.

*********************************

Baby Geis #2 has a name. Her name is Charlotte. She is a girl. I can't believe we will have little sisters tearing through this joint soon. IT IS SO REAL NOW.

She is active and I have been feeling her since about 17 weeks. With Lizzie, I had an anterior placenta so I barely felt her kicks by 23 weeks. Charlotte is the opposite. Her placenta is in the back and that girl is a mover! Also, she is always starving. Seriously. Like, right now, I have to go and scrounge up some chocolate. Sorry, interewbz. Duty calls.

Is it July?!? Wait, what year is it....

noreply@blogger.com (Gena) — Fri, 06 Aug 2010 01:06:00 +0000

I feel like the blog has been on hiatus, like a sitcom, through my first trimester. I feel kinda bad.

A few weeks ago, I was cleaning out the medicine cabinet and I found a bottle of Tylenol that expired 05/10. I set it on the table and announced to the hubby and the MIL that "Hey peeps, we gotta finish this shit before it expires". Then I went upstairs to take a shower.

As I was loofah-ing, it suddenly hit me that OMFG IT'S JULY and those drugs expired TWO MONTHS AGO. Forget May; I had lost the entire month of June in a progesterone-induced haze of lethargy. Which is really sad because those were the cooler days of summer and now it's over 100 degrees every day with wilting humidity.

I have never been so tired in my whole entire life.

**************

So, the Gramma was here for three whole weeks and I changed FOUR diapers that whole time. And that counts the one that I started and then couldn't finish because my morning sickness was being a pussy and I had to yell for Gramma to "OMG can you finish this? Come quick."

Another good thing about her being here is that I can share the bewildering "what do you wanna do for dinner tonight" debate. With Stephen, it's always "I don't care" or "whatever you want" or something irrational like "peanut butter cups". But with the MIL, it's a complex debate with references to what we have the ingredients for and what commitment level we have that night. It's less of a chore and more of a problem-solving crisis-avoiding solution-finding mission.

(Which is house-wife-speak for "I don't give a rat's ass about how cool your job is and how you juggle military training and confidential knowledge and get to talk to other grown-ups and what-not. You see this house? I RUN THIS BITCH. Food and all.)

**********************

Gramma also made E this little cloth egg and it's the simplest of designs but she loves it. The moment she laid eyes on it, she was hooked. She carries it around in her mouth, like a dog, while she crawls. It makes me really proud too because that little maneuver is a problem-solving masterpiece that I'm sure she learned from me (see above paragraph).

Now she carries all her belongings like that when she is on the move (even hard plastic toys and her sippy cup). She also likes to practice her doggie impersonations by face-planting on the table and lapping up her dinner. I don't know if it is easier or irresistibly novel or what, but she is obsessed with eating like that. I laugh so hard at that little Milk Monster. She is such a hoot to watch!

***********************

Speaking of dog, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, someone teach me how to teach her to leave Chewie's toys alone. His favorite toys are now her favorite toys and I spend so much wasted time on prying his slobbery rubber toys from her death grip or yelling across the room for her to "GROSS! Get that out of your mouth!"

The hidden blessing in it all is that Chewie FINALLY has a playmate and it warms my heart to see her playing fetch or tug of war (or keep-away) with him. Sometimes, to us adults, that dog is a burden. He eats pacifiers and whines and sheds everywhere, but to her, he will be a childhood friend and playmate. A child and their dog. Forever friends and partners in crime.

**********************

A few weeks ago, E finally clapped. It was right after the Gramma got here and I was starting to get worried because the pediatrician was asking us about clapping at the 9 month appointment and I totally freaked out when she seemed worried that the clapping skill was un-mastered. I had instant flash-forwards of remedial math and "summer learning camps" and panic set in.

All was for naught though because E just up and clapped in response to Gramma's cue and BAM, just like that, we're back on track for Harvard and a Ph.D and junk. Whew.

*********************

Did I mention my boobs are two ginormous ache-sacks of suckage?

Oh? Well now you know.

Bye Bye Milkie Boobs

noreply@blogger.com (Gena) — Sat, 17 Jul 2010 19:16:00 +0000

My milk is drying up. It's breaking my heart.

As much as I hate wearing the same two nursing tops (every day) and being gnawed on like I'm a chew toy, I'm not ready to wean E. I had just come to terms with extended breastfeeding and tandem nursing and now I can't pump and my daughter won't latch on for more than a few seconds.

She has been progressively drinking less and less over the past two months. First it was four feedings and then three and then two. And then sometimes only one. I got alarmed a few weeks ago and started emergency procedures. I'm drinking, like, 100 ounces a day. I'm back to eating oatmeal, "dry-pumping", offering the breast more, compressions, sacrificing small animals.... nothing..... not a drop....

I keep clinging to the mantra that it's simply Supply and Demand. Suck more, make more; but it's not working ya'll. I can't even squeeze a single drop out. My baby is starving and I can't provide for her.

Now, I know she will be a year old in a few weeks and she eats three square meals a day, with snacks, so she won't die of malnutrition. I know she's doesn't "need" my milk to "survive" now. I just wanted to keep giving her this "perfect nutrition" as long as possible.

I feel so helpless because part of the reason for my dry spell is my pregnancy. I've been Google-ing and reading up on KellyMom and LaLeche and something like 70% of women see a sharp decrease in supply aroud mid-pregnancy. Many of them lose their milk entirely. I guess I drew the short straw this time.

The good news is that I am FINALLY using up my freezer stash. Those cute little milk bags have been sitting in my deep freezer for almost a year. I have never needed them before. I had always wanted to give E the freshest milk possible so I tried to give her fresh pumped and straight-from-the-tap as much as possible. Plus, I envisioned every ounce as a "bonus" to my weight loss journey; "free" calories I burned, double even, since I pumped and also nursed. I figured I would toss them as they reached a year old (the max suggested time in a deep freeze).

(I almost donated them a few months ago, but I couldn't let them go. I was too attached to the them. They belonged to E.)

I tried to start E on whole milk and it didn't work out so well. She hated it and it made her poop gross-er. I tried rice milk and almond milk, and she loved them, but they aren't as nutritiously complete as cow's milk so that doesn't help the mommy-stress-level either.

I finally caved in and thawed out a freezer bag dated Aug 13 (a mere 13 days after E was born) and cautiously opened the zipper. I expected a blast of foul milk smell but the milk was fine. It smells strongly of iron, from my supplements at the time, but it was drinkable. As I poured it out into a sippy cup, I thought about all the drama and the pain that went into making each of these little boobie-packs. Every ounce, especially these first ones, was a miracle. I struggled to get more than a few ounces at a time. My nipples bled and my C-section scar burned and the baby screamed and when I pumped, it hurt like the dickens. Yet here I was, almost a YEAR LATER, goshdamn grateful that I put forth all that effort and saved each and every pack.

She didn't really take this milk so well in her sippy cup so I resorted back to her bottles. She hasn't had one in months and I was so proud that she had kicked the habit and moved on to the cup. It hurt a little to reintroduce them but what could I do? She was starving and I'm not a monster. You know, to her anyway. I guess I will deal with taking them away, again, later.

So that's where we are. I'm supplementing table foods with 8-12 ounces of year-old-milk per day and she seems happier, fuller and content. It still pains me to think that our nursing bond is quickly coming to an end before I am ready. That I won't be nursing into the second year. I'm still offering the boob throughout the day but she only gets maybe one good nursing in the morning.

Once again, I'm reminded that this whole child-rearing business is 20% good intentions/ planning/ personal philosophy and 70% "whatever the baby wants". You can say what you plan to do and what you want to do until you are blue in the face, but when the baby comes, the baby dictates a lot of what happens. With utter disregard for your "philosophy" and your parenting style and your baby-book-reading knowledge, even. And you just gotta roll with it.

((also, the other 10%, from the child-rearing equation, is PFM))

(((pure.effin.magic)))

Happy Fourth of July!

noreply@blogger.com (Gena) — Mon, 05 Jul 2010 03:01:00 +0000

We had a wonderful Independence Day.

There was a little shindig we attended, at the neighbors, that involved food and booze and karaoke shenanigans.

Also, I made the cutest flag-inspired cake. EVER.

Then, at the end, fireworks. Ours are extremely close to our house so we watched them from the comfort of our own driveway, after E had been put down for the night.

Hope yours was just as lovely and patriotic :)

***Freedom isn't free***

Pull-Ups

noreply@blogger.com (Gena) — Fri, 11 Jun 2010 15:54:00 +0000

Yesterday, E pulled herself up in her baby bed. She was supposed to be sleeping, but instead, she was squealing and banging and tossing the contents of her crib overboard. After a good half hour of listening to her NOT going back to sleep, I gave up and went to rescue her. It was 6am.

When I opened her door, she screamed in joy and jumped up and down, up and down. She threw a binkie at me and it hit me squarely in the shin. OUCH! And then she laughed at me. Even though she is the one in a baby-containment device, clearly, I am the prisoner here. She's such a beautiful and perfect little terrorist. Are we really past the infant stage already? We are. We are hurtling towards the toddler stage quicker and quicker. When did she get so big?! And demanding?!

I scooped her up, changed her, and deposited her in the pack n play (Stephen calls it the Baby Bastille) so I could whip up some breakfast. She can no longer be trusted unattended on the floor, lest she eat a Chewie furball or explore the inner workings of an electrical outlet in the 20 to 30 seconds I might have my back turned. I'm feeling lazy so I make her a half banana and two pieces of PB toast, sans crust. She eats every last crumb and downs a half-filled sippy cup of coconut milk. Now she's ready to rock n roll. Time to overturn toy baskets and try to touch the entertainment center and inspect her newest obsession: the carseat.

She's such a big girl already! She has fully mastered the pull up in one day. She gets on her knees and reaches up for a steadying hand-hold. Then she lifts her scuffed-up baby legs, one at a time, and grunts like an old man until she gets her feet properly planted. It's so cute because she's so PROUD. It's like she invented this standing business, despite the fact that Mommy and Daddy do this kind of thing all the time. Of course, I fight back the urge to tell her this. I clap instead.

Next up is walking I guess and I'm nearly fainting at the prospect. I'm so not ready.

That girl and her dog

noreply@blogger.com (Gena) — Fri, 11 Jun 2010 15:53:00 +0000

Besides chasing fur tumbleweeds and chewing on electrical cords, there's another reason why she can't be left alone on the floor: she chases poor Chewie relentlessly.

She won't let him have any peace.

He gets up and moves away from her and she hauls ass towards him.

As soon as he lays down with his toy, she's almost there, speed-crawling across the divide. She tries to take his toy from his mouth, which is mean and also gross. Those slobbermongers are disgusting.

He looks at me with pleading eyes to PLEASE just get this kid a toy of her own and MAYBE corral her somewhere so he can have some me-time. I kinda feel bad for him, but then I remember all the times he has followed me all over the house and fallen asleep behind my feet while I slaved away at the stove, causing me to trip and fall and scream CHEWIE MOVE when I turned around. So I figure it's Karma.

All over my body....

noreply@blogger.com (Gena) — Sun, 23 May 2010 01:31:00 +0000

A few squeezies of chocolate syrup to keep E occupied for, oh, 7 minutes so I could FOR THE LOVE OF GOD just unload the dishwasher while the coffee is percolating.

I'm not worthy...
I'm not worthy...

It totally worked because it ended up buying me enough time to unload the dishwasher, make the coffee, reboot the laundry, feed the dog and check FaceBook.

And maybe, maybe, I had a chance to pee. Alone. With the door closed.

I'm at a loss for this caption but my first instinct was to laugh uncontrollably. And then I stopped laughing because, ummm, I'm a little scared.

She is obviously happier than a pig in shit but the down side of the whole shenanigan was the CLEAN UP. Chocolate syrup, when warmed and spread all over the body, is a PITA to clean up.

Also: Dear God, please don't let anyone read this post backwards because I'm pretty sure I'd have to explain myself to the authorities... again...

To crawl or not to crawl....

noreply@blogger.com (Gena) — Fri, 21 May 2010 14:45:00 +0000

I'mma start my own blog about my crazy mom.

We still aren't crawling. I'm not too worried. It's early still and what's the rush. People are always asking me "I bet you can't wait for her to crawl!" and the truth is, I CAN. It's a whole new ballgame when she becomes (more) mobile. There will be shelves to plunder and TV's to rock and a brick fireplace to dive into, head first of course.

Also: delicious Chewie fur tumbleweeds hidden in every nook and cranny. I can only combat them so much. They are smaller and more agile and multiply heartily as they float throughout our house. I ~~pretend to~~ vacuum them up every day.

OMG OMG Is that a fur-tasty over there?!?

But we are so close. So very close to crawling.

E can scoot backwards and spin 360 degrees on her butt and also her belly. She can rock on all fours and sometimes launches herself towards her prey (a toy, the dog, a Chewie tumbleweed). She just can't comprehend that her baby paws have to "walk" with her knees. And we can't teach her. If we try, she screams: Don't touch my HAAAAANDZ!

I do not needz to crawl when my slaves always bringz me my basket of toyz.

All the rocking has progressed into is sitting. If you put E on her belly, she will instantly pop to her hands and knees and push back into a sitting position. She refuses to stay on all fours for any amount of time unless it is on the way to sitting. If you put her on her back, she will roll over to her belly, up on her knees and down on her butt. It's kinda cute, all this newfangled sitting.

Do you remember how we have commemorated our milestones in the past? Hmmmm?

The first word and first wobbly, yet unaided, sitting?

That's right. We learn everything in the middle of the damn night. And then practice it to death by the light of the moon.

So I guess it's no big surprise that E has been waking up in the middle of the dang blasted night and assuming the sit position, only to find out that OMG SHE CAN'T GET DOWN! I'm serious, ya'll. I am being driven to madness because my 9 month old startles the shit out of me, at 1am, with the old "Help, I've sat up and I can't lay back down" trick.

Which was pretty amusing the first night, and then the second night I sort of chuckled to myself, and then the third night I was all CUT THAT SHIT OUT or I swear, by God, I will duct tape wooden spoons to your legs and you will be unable to bend those suckers in any direction. The fourth night I took the roll of duct tape and the wooden spoons and I arranged them, menacingly, on the dresser next to her night light. Just in case. As a reminder. We haven't had any problems after that (cracking knuckles).

(((she thinks I'm joking)))

****************

(((sigh)))

Well, leave it to Lizzie to MAKE A LIAR of me. I started this post four days ago and then two days ago, she crawled. Just like that. She had a baby friend over, she wanted to wallop him on the head some more after we separated them and next thing we knew, she was crawling.

It's so funny too because she keeps her bent legs stiff and uses her hands to pull her frozen backside along. She fish-tails all over the place and is so excited. What a precious goofball.

(((Please excuse my maniacal laughing in the video. I don't get out much.)))

I have a feeling I may be needing that duct tape and those wooden spoons after all.

OMFG more teeth!

noreply@blogger.com (Gena) — Sun, 16 May 2010 18:32:00 +0000

The past few days have been rough around here. We are back to screaming and flailing and popping things out of Mommy's hands. The sleeping schedule has been over-ruled. E has a new tooth (her next upper-left one). It should break through any day now. She seems to be in much greater pain with this one though.

Stephen gave E the binky back and she took right to it like we never took it away in the first place. He said she "looked like she wanted it" and so he gave it to her and then magically, it calmed her down. I told him we can't always give her what she wants just to shut her up and he was all "WHY NOT?! It works! Problem solved." Wow. Man-Logic has triumphed yet again. Truthfully, I was a little relieved because hey, I'm pretty sure I have permission to score some narcotics now. BECAUSE THEY WORK TOO. For me.

It's sad that I am so against the damn binky but I am so grateful for it's ability to soothe the tyrant. Consider my white flag waved. What's next? Skittles for breakfast? Smokin' pot on the back porch? (If she's gonna do it, she's gonna do it with me) ((spoken with a white-trash redneck slur)) Except I could probably get away with the pot part as "medical marijuana". If the fuzz show up, I'll say it's E's.

"She's teething, Officer....."

Course then they would probably arrest ME because I don't have an excuse but I LOOK stoned with my blood shot eyes, lethargic movements and slurry speech.

"I'm not stoned, Officer! I'm FUCKING EXHAUSTED!"

But he won't believe me and then I'm going to go to jail for E's stash. Outsmarted by a nine-month-old again....

**********************

Also: Buckets of drool.

Everything is *damp* and *moist* and the baby-laundry pile is growing faster than all other laundry. Combined.

The bibs do nothing.

They are useless.

********************

(Filed under "Stephen says the funniest shit")

Stephen: "Who's Willis?"

Me: "What?"

Stephen: "Willis. Who's the Willis that Lizzie is talking to in her picture?"

Me: "WTF are you talking about"

Stephen: "That picture caption says "Whatchoo talkin' 'bout, Willis?" and I just want to know WHO IS WILLIS?"

Me: *blink* *blink* "From Diff'rent Strokes?"

Stephen: "What's Diff'rent Strokes?"

Me: "OMG are you serious? The show? From when we were kids??"

Stephen: *blank stare*

So I googled it and showed him...

Nope, does not ring a bell for him.

**********************

And then the next day I hear him playing with E on the floor and he's saying;

"What the fuck, Wilson"

"Excuse me?"

"Yeah, WTF Wilson, like on the show."

HAHA! Close enough I guess.

******************

WTF, Wilson.....

Mother's Day, Part Deux

noreply@blogger.com (Gena) — Sat, 15 May 2010 01:13:00 +0000

I'm extremely fertile. I watch a porno and I get pregnant. Stephen says that if HE watches a porno, and doesn't wear a condom, I get pregnant. And even then, it's only like 97% effective.

Are you watching a porno right now? STOP!

Hello?! I just said I'm SUPER FERTILE! Jeez....

We planned to get pregnant with E. When Stephen gave the go-ahead, I registered for Fertility Friend, bought a basal thermometer, the whole nine yards. I didn't want to waste any time.

Well, all that was for naught because we got pregnant 11 days later and 11 days after that, I got my BFP (big fudgin' positive). If you're gonna come to the game, you might as well play big and go home a winner. /flex

I'm a baby-making pro so we figured we'd pop out 2 babies in rapid succession and then be done. I wanted to have them both before 30 so we were working on a tight schedule. Chop chop.

And then E was born and WHOA we had a non-sleeper. I'm exhausted. I mean, she sorta sleeps. She takes excellent naps and goes down for night-time beautifully. But she still gets up a few times a night, even at nine months old. We didn't see that one coming.

For the first 8 months of her life, I considered not having more kids. I wondered how I could possibly have another when E was wearing me out. Imagine if the second kid was ALSO a non-sleeper. Recipe for disaster, much? I'd rather shove bamboo shoots up my OWN fingernails.

But then something clicked last month. E is still waking up but I have gotten used to it I guess. I got my groove back. The housework fell into place and I started taking daily showers again (your welcome!). Through FlyLady and the motivation to buck-up-buttercup, life has ceased to be an impossible list of shit-I-have-to-do yet haven't the time for. We are so much happier.

As I watch E blossom into this crazy awesome little person, I feel like everything will be okay. I'm doing okay. Another baby will be okay. (But just one more. DO YOU HEAR ME, GOD?)

I talked to Stephen and surprisingly, he was on board. He wants the kids to be close in age. He wishes he had been closer in age to his brother so they would have gotten along better. I loved my relationship with my brother. We are 11 months apart and still talk all the time. My other younger brother was born only two years after us and it made a difference. We always thought of him as our “baby” brother.

We talked about the cons: two under two sounds like Chinese water torture. Two in diapers. Two needing constant supervision. Trying to get them out of the house by myself? Ugh. It's gonna suck balls. And don't even talk to me about two in college at the same time. Emotional suck and financial suck all around.

But then there are the pros: constant baby-mode and then DONE. Built in playmates. Being able to do things like movies and vacations that everyone can enjoy without holding an older kid back or dragging a useless baby around.

I wasn't charting but I knew my cycle and told Stephen that we were too late for this month, by a mere 2 days or so, so we would get serious the next month. Game faces. War paint and all that jazz. I figured that we could practice, in the meantime, and ordered him to get his ass upstairs and assume the damn position. He threw down his Xbox controller and raced on up there. He's a real good sport when it comes to baby-making and all the practice involved.

Two weeks later, my cycle start was wonky.

EXPECTED: hemorrhage quality.

ACTUAL: barely visible.

I thought, surely, I didn't get pregnant this quick. As in the month BEFORE we start trying. Who does that?!?

So I bought a test. And it was positive.

Whoa.

I had to go out and buy more because it was a clear blue digital and they are known to give much higher than usual false-positives. And the other 2 in the box came up negative. It's either a false- positive or too early to register strongly. The box said “test again in a week”. Like hell.

I drove my pajama-clad butt up to CVS (on Mother's Day, so the lines were crazy long with people buying last second gifts for their moms because nothing says I love you like a 2 for $10 deal sitting in a CVS plastic bag), and bought two more tests. Of a different brand. And I took one.

The goddamned thing was BROKEN, ya'll. It didn't say SHIT. At this point I'm thinking someone is fucking with me and hey, NOT FUNNY GUYS. Thank God I learned to pee-on-command in the Navy and still had some juice left. I took the second one.

POSITIVE.

(Seriously, ya'll, which one of you HAD to watch the porno?! Hmmm?)

Long story short, Baby #2 is due 16 Jan 2011. Which is less than a month before my 30^th birthday. (Boo-yah bitches. Crisis averted.) We are so excited but also a little deer-in-the-headlights because babies are hard, yo. Maybe even harder when they are 17 months apart. I'm just theorizing here.

Congratulations to us!

*****************

Also: I'm thinking of registering at Williams and Sonoma this time because we really don't need any more baby shit but, like, Momma could use some swagalicios kitchen gear instead.

Thoughts?

Muther's Day OH-TEN

noreply@blogger.com (Gena) — Mon, 10 May 2010 01:09:00 +0000

Mine was wonderful**. Was yours?

I'd blog about it but I'm deathly tired and I'm calling it a night.

Yes, I have started a post for tomorrow. Yes, I will ATTEMPT to publish it tomorrow.

After that?

No promises <3

**********************

**Mine was actually super duper wonderful and memorable. I got a new necklace for my charms and mucho Baby-Free time. Also: coffee in bed (swooooon).

Shout outs to my mommy friends and my mommy bloggy friends and my mommy family people.

Special shout outs to the Gramma and the Gammy from myself and from Miss Elizabeth (I almost put Mrs. Elizabeth because I have no brain juice left and yes, clearly I need more sleep, hence the shortie post).

Also to my Aunt Vickie who has always been like a mother to me. And let me borrow money in the past. And let me cry into the phone for hours. You're a peach.

One last one to my own mother. We haven't really known each other and we don't really stay in touch but hey, you can't get rid of me. I gotz your DNA. You're stuck with me so stop running away from me. No, seriously, STOP RUNNING. I'm fat and I can't keep up.

****************************

Yawn....

Can barely keep my eyes open lately.....

More tomorrow ( I hope :)

Tooth #2, #3, and maybe #4.

noreply@blogger.com (Gena) — Mon, 12 Apr 2010 15:00:00 +0000

*Okayyyyyy... I started this post Wednesday and I'm just now finishing it and I would totally do a rewrite to make it all now-ish but that would take time and energy that I don't have when I'm working with borrowed energy from 6 cups of coffee and this nap won't last forever so here we go......

***********************

Three days ago was Easter. Or so my calendar says.

I'm not really sure because it fell between the 31st and today and let me tell you, it's all been a blur. And not in a positive way.

On the 31st, E finally cut that 2nd tooth all the way through and Stephen and I, and everyone else in the neighborhood, breathed a sigh of relief. That bugger was destroying our sanity.

I thought, surely at least one person in our household is gonna be locked up in a rubber room and denied shoelaces. Hopefully it's me. I hear it's relatively quiet in a nut house. Sure, there's moaning and incessant gibberish conversations but all in all it's relatively subdued. With good drugs. Also, there's pudding.

But then it was over. As we headed off into the weekend, I muttered stupidly about "OMFG yay finally some effin sleep" and of course jynked myself proper. After roughly 48 hours, E morphed back into demon-hell-baby.

And I hate to use such a sinister description, but I also want to paint the appropriate picture in your head. Demon-hell-baby is about more than just snarling baby jowls and glowing ember eyes.

There is screaming. Not regular screaming. Nope. Annoying, random, paired-with-body-contortions screaming. There is repetitive slapping: slapping of self and slapping of caretakers and slapping of objects out of hands. The last part really pisses me off. I tend to tire easily of having food offerings and toys and diaper changing supplies swatted out of my hands.

I'm also not a fan of having my coffee cup popped around, splashing onto everything. Then I smell like spoiled milk and hazelnut all day long and I'm cheated out of that much caffeine. Dislike.

There's also the classic teething signs like gnawing on my boobies and this weird mouth thing E does where she covers her gums with her tongue and lets the tip hang out. She looks really really focused.Or perhaps like she ate one too many lead-based paint chips. I guess the new teeth feel odd to her.

Another sure sign is what I call "bipolar-biting".

Her manic phase is where she chomps down hard on anything she can get her hands on. Her eyes go wide open and she makes a growling noise while her whole body vibrates. You'd think she was having a leg amputated old-school Navy style, sans anesthetic.

It scares me to let her anywhere near my boobs during this phase. It's like she's a zombie and she's staring all glassy eyed at my chest like they contain braaaaiiiiinz....

Then she flips to the other side and can't bite down on anything. She wants to, but it hurts too bad. Objects are warily brought into the mouth. As soon as it touches her gums, she winces and it goes flying. There is screaming and flailing. And conspiracy theorizing.

The toys ARE LAVA! The fudz IS LAVA! The boobs ARE LAVA..... (but still doable). And so we nurse. And nurse....

Sometimes she bites me and I'm not gonna lie, THAT SHIT HURTS. You try to be calm and patient and not sock her eye but it's hard. The first time she did it, I yelped and pulled her away and startled her. She cried and I cried and my boobs cried and Chewie ran to his kennel in fear. Also, there was blood.

She's getting better though. When I feel her start to softly sink her teeth, you know, IN MY FLESH, I just tell her no, quietly, and if she doesn't stop, I de-latch her and we regroup. Which works, most of the time. (Except when something catches her eye and she whips around to look at it with a mouth still full of hooter. Yee-Ouch.)

**********************

And here we are Monday, 12 April.
(Today) (as in, for real today) (if I finish this today...).

Tooth #3 finally cut through somewhere between last Wednesday (which was the original TODAY, when I started this post) and Friday. I don't know which day in particular because I lost a lot of time between those days. It's not real clear in my mind.

(I know! I thought maybe I was abducted by aliens too, but like, my butt wasn't sore so I think we can rule that out. Whew.)

When I checked on Friday, BAM! There is was! Tooth #3! So again, I foolishly said "Super Yay! Back to normal." And again, E started teething.

She spent the weekend morphing back into the demon baby and we are back to frozen teething toys and Baby Anbesol and teething tablets and slapping shit out of everyone's hands.

And the fudz IZ STILL LAVA! ..... (but doable).

Tooth #4 should be here any day. Gird your damn loins.

*******************

Piano lessons are on hold until further notice....

Come closer. I needz to touch. And maybe taste...

The fudz iz lava but I haz to eat.

To sustainz my cuteness.

*Cue the sad violin muzak and the lone, flickering background candle.*

For Lauren :)

noreply@blogger.com (Gena) — Sat, 03 Apr 2010 04:09:00 +0000

For Lauren - Spunky/Witty/Thought-Provoking Mommy of Eloise

(Do check her out, she's lovely!)

Thanks for your comments and Mommy-banter. It is so much appreciated!

I do blog on demand ~~if it's something I was going to talk about anyway~~, so here is an update on our BLW.

*********************

Baby Led Weaning

It's pretty much what we are doing for the whole "transition to solids" journey. The wiki article really sums up why we are going this route. It follows the natural progression of baby's motor development and helps develop their senses and also it's really fun to watch. The basis of BLW is that you let the baby feed them self. You skip the purees and the cereal mixed with milk and go straight to chunks and whole foods. This sets baby up to accept a wider range of foods down the road and allows her to learn added independence and confidence. (And it's easier and cheaper than baby food LOL)

We haven't always stuck close to the die hard BLW rules. We spoon feed E some things. I have "emergency baby food" which is frozen portions of her favorite dinners (Gramma's tuna casserole, Mommy's chicken noodle soup etc) and when reheated, they lose a lot of their firmness. We spoon feed those.

I offer her literally every food that we consume so that means jello and pudding and rice. I spoon feed a lot of those too. Have you ever seen a baby try to feed themselves rice? It's cruel. It would be cruel to make an adult feed themselves rice without utensils. Or pudding. Even messier. BLW allows for spoon feeding in these cases, until baby can spoon feed their self.

I didn't know E would reject purees but she most absolutely did. She hates baby cereal too. That worries me a little since babies need to start working on replacing their iron stores after about 6 months and iron-fortified cereals and formulas do that job. I honestly don't know at this point if I should be worried about her iron levels since she doesn't get either of those. I do try to offer her meat as much as possible and she lurves peanut butter (which peds said was fine since we do not have a family history of nut allergies.) I will ask about the iron at our 9 month appointment.

At around 6 months, we went 100% into offering as many normal table foods as possible. E has not met a food she did not like. She gets that from me :) She also eats so fast that sometimes I wonder if she even chews it. She gets that from Stephen.

Her favorite food is still banana. She will consume chunks of banana until..... well.... I guess forever because she never turns the next bite down. A few weeks ago, Stephen let me sleep in and informed me upon wakening that E had eaten an entire banana. By herself. I was aghast. I will not go into the pooping implications of that meal.

She also really loves carrots, rice, graham crackers, pancakes, noodles, prunes and chicken. I think she would eat baby snacks (puffs and wheels and crackers) all day if I let her, but I really limit her to how much of that type of food she gets. I save them for outings and when she is impatient for me to fix a real meal. They seem like overly processed carbs and not very healthy, but that's just me. She devours them.

Her other favorite thing is ORANGES. She will go ape-shit if she sees you eating an orange and not give her a piece. I usually bite off a third of a section and give it to her because she has a tendency of shoving the whole piece in her scream-hole at once and that scares me.

Hot spices don't seem to bother her either. If you know me in real life, you know that I like my food spicy. Very spicy. Like, scare and/or hurt other people spicy. I keep a container of insane ground Thai peppers that I put on everything and when Stephen makes me soup and has to add these spices, he cries. Don't tell him I said that, but it's true. They burn his eyes.

I don't put these spices on E's food (much) but I do offer her moderately hot food. She may pant a little and drink extra water but she keeps eating. Hand over fist. Just tonight, I ordered some pancit from the Chinese place down the street and it had quite a kick to it. She went to town and inhaled those bad boys. It was so precious to see her trying to suck on them like spaghetti when they are so thin. She got a good jaw workout. (I also NEVER listened to rules about eating spicy or seasoned food while pregnant/breastfeeding. I think baby should get used to the flavors of what Mom eats because, guess what, that's what Mom makes for dinner!)

One of the weirder things she likes is sushi. Which is awesome becase we are gaga over some sushi in this house. Don't get all crazy on me over the raw fish part. I'm not stuffing her full of sashimi or huge chunks of raw salmon or tuna. It's mostly California rolls and the weird egg things so put your child-abuse pitchforks down and be calm. Have you ever seen a baby eat a sushi roll? P-R-E-C-I-O-U-S. I'm so proud of her!

The one thing she really enjoys that I seldom let her have is cheese. I know there's not much milk in it but I still try to limit her on how much she can have. Usually just a bite of mine and then I don't offer her more. I'm still not sure on all the lactose rules and pooping effects so we just play it safe.

At least three days a week, she has her favorite breakfast, which is peanut butter and jelly toast. That kid will eat the shit out of some PB&J. I use a wine glass to cut out a circle in the sandwich because she somehow makes less of a mess when she doesn't have corners to mush up and break off. And then I can use the glass to drink some wine.... Everyone wins....

When we first started, I cut everything up in the finest of dices. Like any other new mother, choking is right up there on my list of worst fears. Right between "getting pregnant again any time soon" and "being skinned alive". I would rather just take the extra time and cut everything up smaller and smaller and at first, she couldn't really grasp much anyway so we were pretty safe.

Now that she has that pincer grasp down pat, I let her have bigger chunks; slices of banana, cooked baby carrots in thirds, whole egg noodles, etc. She is amazingly good at getting the food into her mouth and her little concentrated chewing face is so funny to watch. Eating is serious business around these parts.

We have started her transition to the sippy cup and she is taking it pretty well, except she prefers to have you hold the cup for her and I'm all "Hell to the NO! That's why were teaching you the cup. So you can do it yourself!" She still refuses the bottle except for, recently, night feeding (YES! I'll take it!). She has finally realized that the milk is faster from an artificial nipple and she puts up no resistance when she is ready for bed. The only caveat is that the milk has to be HOT HOT HOT, almost burning, or she won't take it. SO MANY RULES FOR THIS KID!

All in all, I'd say BLW has been a success for us so far. E has accepted every food I have offered her and we haven't seen any hints of food allergies. When compared to purees or baby snacks, I think table foods are more interesting for her. They have a variety of textures and she must use varied mechanisms to grasp the food and get it into her gullet. It looks fun for her.

And again, it is really cheap and easy because I just make her a portion when I eat and we can share. No added prep or cooking and no special ingredients. (Did I mention, also, how cute it it to watch? Seriously.) (And it totally makes me feel better when, after an especially rough attitude-filled screaming day with her, she struggles with her lunch noodles and gets irritated with herself. It always makes me feel better!)

Conclusion?

BLW = two very enthusiastic thumbs up!

(BLSTTDN? Not so much.....)

(That would be "Baby-Led Seeping Through The Damn Night" and no, we still have not mastered it yet.)

*****************

I'm sure I had more to say but now my beer is kicking in and we don't want to be drunk blogging now do we? Fun for you perhaps, but next-day-regretting for me and then I wake up all ashamed for some reason that I just can't quite put my finger on. Not gonna ride that pony again, nope nope nope.

Fool

noreply@blogger.com (Gena) — Sat, 03 Apr 2010 01:52:00 +0000

100th POST! Woo Hoo!

(And YES, I am absolutely counting the first posts I did which were all pictures of my boring gigantor pregnant belly. Because I'm the boss. Of this blog.)

***********************

Don't ask what super cool original April Fool's Day awesomeness I whipped up. I'm lame. I didn't do anything.

SERIOUSLY! Leave me alone! I know you expect better from me (sad face).

I wanted to be all “ZOMG WTF I”M PREGNANT!!!!11!!1!” on Facebook and twitter but:

(a) that's LAME and overdone.

(b) Knowing me, my overly fertile female bits would conspire to spit out a rogue egg that would fertilize itself and SURPRISE! Preggo my eggo! And that can't happen because *shudder* one. baby. at a time. please God.

(and scarily, “b” is more likely to happen because I am so hideously fertile, if I don't wear a condom while watching a porno, I'm impregnated.)

(seriously..... ask my gyno....)

(you know, or not.... because that's uber weird)

(for everyone involved)

But have no fear, I hereby rescue this lame post with Pictures! Of E!

*********************

(((Alternative Title: The Overzealous Abuse of Parenthesis Post.)))

**********************

Cloth Diapered Butts.

I am powerless against their preciousness.

********************

I can has brudder nao?

or sister?

***********************

Daddy: This aint so bad.....

Mommy: Okay, well then you get to be preggo with the next one. My treat.

*******************

Yes, those are Mommy's glowsticks.

And yes, that's how we roll.....

Educating the Youth

noreply@blogger.com (Gena) — Wed, 24 Mar 2010 01:17:00 +0000

E is cutting her second tooth and I have the plague (again) and there is NO SLEEP TO BE HAD in this whole damn house (by me at least).

Also, the world is out to get me...

And now that we have THAT emo moment out of the way, here's a short short few words.....

****************

I often get a kick at the various ways people get to my blog. Some people click on my comments to other bloggers. Others may find me on someone's blogroll under Favorite Blogs (thanks guys!). And some people find me by Google-ing.

Yesterday's data revealed that someone got here by Googling “roofie uses”.

I know, RIGHT?! Now I can add “educational” to my blog description.

Thanks little buddy! (you know who you are) I hope I was able to help you!

Now I can cross that off my bucket list.

******************

I still get comments about how much cursing goes on in this blog. Ummmm, I don't know what to say?

I mean, it's my blog right?

When you're reading it in your head, can't you just self-bleep the dirty words? Or just skip over them and enjoy the content? Or stop reading maybe? I don't even know...

I appreciate the concern, I really do, and I know one day E will read this but isn't that a good thing? It's an honest look at her infanthood. Won't it be great to say “See? Look how crazy it was and we still all came out okay.” (Or alternatievely, "See? Mommy's always been that way.....")

I blame the Navy for all the foul-mouthedness and just so you know, I try to take out at least half the “fucks” and “shits” before I hit publish. Except the ones that are needed for content. Or humor. Which is like, most of them. But I TRY.

So everyone who disaproves can suck it. Eat a bowl of D's.

(Except the disapproving family. I would never tell family to eat a bowl of D's. Ever. Unless they continued to email me about said language. Multiple times. And then, well, maybe a bowl of D's with sugar on top. I'm not cruel. *blush* )

******************

I know I haven't been updating my blog much lately but *sniffle* I'M SICK *sniffle*

Cue the sympathy plx :)

Crazy and Need Roofies

noreply@blogger.com (Gena) — Wed, 17 Mar 2010 21:50:00 +0000

Ok, so let's recap:

The Gramma was here and pampered us and then she left and we were all sad. We tried to guilt her into spending a few more weeks with us, but it didn't work. Next time she comes? She's gettin' roofies slipped in her coffee on the day she will (attempt to) fly out.... Problem solved.

Next problem: where does one buy roofies and what is the going rate for a roofy? Or is it roofie? And, also, what would the street term be for said roofies? I'm just asking because I don't want to be that dumb ass who uses the wrong drug jargon and gets shot. I watch Cops. I know how this shit works.

Then there was the plague we all tossed back and forth like Hot Potato: Germ Edition. It was gross. It was phlegmy. It was a horrifying documentary that could have been titled "What Happens When You Continually Tell People You Don't Believe in this Newfangled Hand Sanitizer Obsession, Thankyouverymuch”. Then all the germies and the bacteria feel they gotta prove themselves. Via flu-like symptoms.

Lizzie has fully accomplished the whole “sitting up” thing and can do so, unaided, everywhere but in the tub (kitchen sink) where I refuse to let her try. All I can think of is bashed baby brains on the spigot. We don't want her to slip and slide and lose a damn eye.

Also since we last chit chatted: food has become her latest obsession. She wants to try everything we eat or drink. She hasn't found a food she doesn't lurve and I'm fairly certain she got that from me. Poor baby. Also, she wants to feed herself. Nay, she DEMANDS IT. It gets messy but it's a hoot to watch.

Follow so far? There's gonna be a quiz at the end.

Independant Baby says....

"I can dooz it Mah-SELVEZ!"

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Three nights ago, Lizzie was up all night.

Allllllll Niiiiiiiight.

I have a friend with a son about Lizzie's age and he decided to start teething this past week. She was moaning and crying about how she didn't know how parents didn't eat their young and I'm all I KNOW, RIGHT?! Pass the salt and pepper and let's DO THIS!

And she's like "You don't understand, he's been up all night and I think I'm gonna go NUTS!” to which I could only shake my head in agreement and mutter about how “people with gooder-sleeping babies just don't understand and need to STFU.”

But then she went on with “Seriously, he was up at 1 am and again at 5 am! I'm exhausted!”

And that's when I lost it and I was all “WTF?!?! GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!”

Lizzie gets up every night at 11pm and 2am and 4am and 6am. On a normal night. You call two night wakenings “up all night”? Shit, around these parts, we'd call that schedule SLEEPIN IN for a change.

Pfffft.

When I said Lizzie was “up all night”, I meant she was full-on wide awake; eyes buggin' out of their sockets while bangin' plastic toy rings in her chair, all awash in the colorful glow of late-night Disney Channel mess, playing at a moderately high volume in a house that's otherwise SILENT CUZ IT'S NIGHT NIGHT TIME GODDAMMIT.

From 2am to 7am.

I don't even think she blinked that whole time...

That's “up all night”.

I iz NO TIRED!

Can't make meh sleepz!

*******************************

Today, on the telephone with Rhiannon, I mentioned something about “maybe when things get less crazy around here” and I suddenly realized that OMFG the crazy is never going to end. And this was a revelation to me. An eye-opener.

I guess I thought I would eventually fall into a routine or maybe I would just get used to the crazy but I was wrong. You never get used to the crazy. The crazy just IS. The crazy does not abate from here on out. It may wear a different hat or walk a little funny but it is here to stay.

The crazy can not be tamed. It will konk you on your butt and drag you around by the hair on your head, caveman-style, and you have to just submit and survive.

Crazy is the new “Calm”. Embrace it. Wallow in it. And try to look at the bright side: You may be Crazy's Bitch but at least.....

yeah, I got nuthin'......

The crazies haz just begun Momma.

*************************

Stephen was putting the dishes away yesterday (GO HIM! Thanks Honey!) and he was putting away the silverware. He always saves them for last because he hates them the most (I can relate).

As he is gathering them all up, he turns to me and asks me “Did you use all these spoons?”

I just stared blankly at him.

“No Honey, you got me. I like to throw clean ones in there just to fuck with you.”

I still have no idea what he was asking...

"Dad, I need to tell you something. Mom's trying to fuck with your head."

"I know Sweetheart. I've known for awhile."

**************************************

After E's “up all night” incident, I kept her awake most of the day and then she returned to her normal schedule the next night. All was forgiven.

Then LAST NIGHT we fought. She went down around 8ish and was up at 11 for milk. Normally I try to catch her before she wakes up fully and then I shove the bottle in her mouth to slam a few quick ounces in her tummy before she knows what hit her. This keeps the whole incident under 10 minutes in duration and everyone one goes to bed happy. Score!

But LAST NIGHT, she refused the bottle. Chewed on the nipple and spit it out. Contorted her body backwards and attempted to gnaw on my boobies through my shirt. I resisted her and tried to force the bottle. She would have none of it and so I dumped her back in her crib and said “Okay, then no milk if you won't take it from the bottle.” I am desperate to have her switched to expressed milk at night so maybe I can share the late night feedings.

I said “Night Night” and “I love you”, as always, and shut the door. I waited for her to cry so I could offer the bottle again but she went back to sleep, the little heifer. Which she has NEVER done after getting up for milk and being denied. When we finally went to bed, I laid awake in the bed, listening for the next wake-up and cry for milk.

I must have fallen asleep soon after that because I don't remember a thing and she slept until 6am this morning. Ummm, HOW DARE SHE?! She is unable to go more than a few hours without milk at night but when she is pissed off and needs to be defiant she can sleep all night long JUST TO PROVE A POINT? This is why I don't trust her.

She is just like me...

Finally taking the bottle.... but on her OWN TERMS.

**********************************

I have been trying So. Hard. to get to the computer and bang out a blog entry. There have been days lately that I go to the New Blog Post page and just. can't. do it.

I have also made a huge commitment to working on my health and well-being this year so I have invested in some good running shoes and filled trash bags full of processed crap-food from my cupboards and tossed them. Yesterday my P90x system arrived and I wanted to pop in one of the DVD's right then and there to start but I didn't because I really need to start it off right by reading the material and making out a plan of attack. So I waited.

Until today. Because today was my first “finally motivated to get this shit on the road” day and I was all “Ha! Your days are numbered, Fat Cells!” I was ready to sweat and grunt and generally heave my body into dangerous and unattractive poses in the comfort of my own living room until Lizzie got up and bitch-slapped that idea right off the table.

When I got her out of her crib, she was flushed and whiney and hot to the touch. The thermometer said 102.3 and she was cuh-RANK-y!

UGH...

We are currently Motrin-ing and napping and nursing every hour or so. It's rough, but the silver lining is that I can't commit to anything for more than 40 minutes or so at a time so Random Tuesday thoughts is perfect! So much better than working out. There's less ~~sweat~~ ~~tears~~ ~~embarrassment~~ ….

shit, I lost my train of thought....

See mah cuteness?

There is no other goal than to maintain this cuteness.

Your junk no matter.

**************************************

I'm trying to text my neighbor about our babies. Well, not our babies, but my baby and her baby. You know what I mean...

We aren't the “closest” of friends because we literally just met a few months ago and even though we live across the street from each other, we never really cross paths. I think we are both flakes. Which is okay. If anyone can understand a flake, it's another flake.

Some of you out there are nodding. You know what I mean.

Word to my Homies.

In our texting, we are talking about our efforts to get shopping and such done. I offered to take her little boy if she needed to run some errands. She has offered to watch E if she doesn't feel better by tomorrow, so I can run to the store. I like her. She's “good people”. Even if I don't know her that well.

I am pretty sure E will feel better tomorrow and I can take her with me, but if not, then I will more than likely leave her with the neighbor because there are a few things on my shopping list that have been sitting there for awhile and MUST be replaced. Rather important things like shitter-paper and milk and COFFEE. So I really appreciate her offer.

I texted back:

“God, I hope so! (hoping E would feel better after Motrin and a nap) I really really need to get some THONGS from Target tomorrow so crossing my fingers it's just a 24 hour thing. I don't know what I'm gonna do if I can't make it out there soon. I've put it off too long now.”

Sometime like an HOUR later, I look at my text messages and realize I meant to say THINGS, not THONGS (caps for emphasis) and I suddenly cringe at what this woman probably things about me. It's bad enough I just told her I must buy butt-floss underwear at Tar-jay, but it's infinitely more humiliating to say so with a complete sense of urgency.

I need skimpy panties. I need them now. I don't know what I will do if I don't get them by tomorrow!

Ummm.... I hate to ask, but...... what will happen if you can't get one before then? Hmmmm? Never mind the fact that, clearly, your ass would completely absorb such a tiny piece of linen and also, have you not considered the fact that perhaps they don't even make “those kind” of undies in size M(ammoth)? I'm pretty sure they only go up to “Really Fucking Big” so you'd kinda be shit out of luck.

**sigh**

She hasn't texted back yet....

Good one Mom.

1 house in the neighborhood alienated, 17 more to go....

********************************

Okay, I lied, there's no quiz. Everyone passes. See you next time....

********************************

((Extra Credit if you score me ~~a roofy~~ ~~a roofie~~ some roofies to knock my Mother-In-Law out on her ass.))

((((Don't tell the cops. They'll never understand.....))))

((((((Or her husband..... for the same reason.....))))))

I'm not dead....

noreply@blogger.com (Gena) — Mon, 15 Mar 2010 02:26:00 +0000

So thanks for asking...

And OMG I'm back. For good this time. Well, you know, until something else MAJOR comes along.

My MIL came to stay with us for 2 weeks (YAY!). I fully intended to utilize that time to spruce this pig sty up a bit and then spit out post after post of self-deprecating potty humor for your utmost enjoyment, but that did not happen (obviously).

I always have big plans when The Gramma comes down but all that goes by the wayside in favor of Sleep! Gossip! Showers! Sleep! She takes E and I spend my baby-free time by consciously exerting as little physical and mental energy as possible. Seriously. I fold my loyal to-do-list into the most intricate of origami swans and then plot and scheme against the Gramma to keep her in her jammies as long as possible. Let's slum it up together so I don't look so bad. Take one for the team Gramma!

We also got deathly ill with whatever the newest SARS/BirdFlu/H1N1 crap was going around. I don't know exactly what I got but it sucked balls. My throat hurt and my intestinal tract roiled uncontrollably. I felt like my head was full of cotton and maybe I was high, but, like, without any of the good feeling..... that I've read about.... you know, on the interwebz.....

I was also going to finally unpack the last of our moving boxes and finish some sewing I had on the back burner but that didn't happen either. Not that you care too much about my domestic deficiencies, I know.

Surprisingly enough, I didn't receive a single email about “O HAI, I noticed yur house haz gone to shitz and wuz just worried if you wuz doin ok or not.”

But I DID get the “Remember back in the day when you updated your blog more often and everyone loved to read your new shit and gawk at your funny pics? THAT DAY HAS APPARENTLY PASSED. Unfollow.”

Whatever, fair-weather followers. REAL LIFE HAPPENS.

Now look at me, getting all defensive and guilty conscious-y and stuff. Most of you probably didn't even notice my slackerness. My lack of posting. Disregard all that yelling and pay no attention to that psycho lady flailing around and blaming the world for her issues. She just needs to take her Zoloft.

After the Gramma left, I went through a week or so of the unavoidable depression that always follows her departure. After all the chatting and laughing and baby help, I find the house particularly quiet and uneventful when Stephen goes to work and I am left alone with E. It takes some getting used to again.

Soooooo... that should catch us up. I am in dire need of beauty sleep (nodding your head in agreement is NOT necessary) and I spent tonz of time updating Daily Lizzie tonight so we will resume this discussion in the morrow. (I know, you can HARDLEY WAIT! Me neither!)

Forgot what I was saying...

noreply@blogger.com (Gena) — Tue, 23 Feb 2010 22:05:00 +0000

Have you missed me? I haven't been around much lately.

Oh you didn't even know I was gone!? IT WAS A RHETORICAL QUESTION PEOPLE. Jeeeeeez.

I didn't even update Daily Lizzie until yesterday-ish and let me tell you... Thank God the camera records the date the pic was taken. There were a few days where it was all I could do to pick up the camera and snap 2 or 3 pics before giving up. Those pictures can never compare to the days where I take 200 (literally) different shots and then laboriously choose the snazziest of them all to showcase.

On hairy ~~days~~ weeks like these, my only save is a close-up crop and a little black and white action. Think artistic. Think vogue.

*******************************

Valentine's Day was very lovely. (Yes, I know it was over a week ago. DO YOU WANT TO HEAR THE STORY OR NOT.)

We ran out of milk for pancakes and coffee so I had to send Stephen to the store before either of us was fully awake. I didn't want to go and neither did he but, well, let's just say that an inconvenienced Stephen is unfortunate but a decaffeinated Gena is a ticking atom bomb so choose wisely. See also: Psychotic Rage.

So off he went, saving my coffee-morning and also picking me up an overpriced heart shaped box of chocolates. I'm trying to diet and usually not a fan of flowers or gifts of sweets but I didn't want to hurt his feelings so I ate pretty much the whole box right then and there. What can I say, I try to be appreciative....

I let him have a few pieces but then, UGH, he ate the goddammed cashew caramel cluster of awesomeness, of which there were only two and hey, I was only saving them for last, but go ahead, steal my happiness. I must have too much anyway.

He said he didn't know they were the best ones but I knew he was lying so I berated him mercilessly until I had him reduced to tears and then right before I squished his guilty heart in my fist, I told him “It's okay, Honey, but next time, just say you think my fat ass should slow down with the shoveling of calories into my cave mouth. Don't pussy foot around the facts by eating all the good chocolates. LET'S HAVE SOME HONESTY HERE!”

See also: Psychotic Rage

Thanks for my new book Gammy!

**********************************

E has officially said her first word and it is dada.

I would have preferred Mama to be the groundbreaker, sure, but whatever.

I mean, it's okay that he gets to be first. He plays with her and lets her watch Call of Duty: Modern Warfare II and also forgets to put her socks on but who am I to judge. I only get up with her 1734 times a night and still breastfeed every two to three hours and, OH YEAH, also thoroughly trashed what's left of my body to bring her into this god forsaken world.....

I'm sure I was a close second and no, I am not bitter at all.

(Who needs “I told you so” when I have “Guess you SHOULDA SAID MAMA FIRST, huh?!?”.

I can't wait to use that one.)

BFF

************************************

I always brag that I am a night owl. Stephen is also a night owl. I do my best work after 10pm with a fresh pot of coffee brewing. The two of us used to stay up until 1am every night and on the weekends we would rarely roll out of bed before late noonish. So wouldn't we be so lucky as to have a child who also likes to burn the midnight oil. And she still gets up AT LEAST two times a night. Unfortunately, my rapidly aging body can no longer keep up such a schedule. I'm wearing thin.

I am eternally grateful to the baby sleep gods for allowing us a child who can be put in her crib awake and then put herself to sleep. I have no complaints there and again, 1000 thank you's. What's turning me prematurely gray is the “Hey, I've been asleep for a few hours but I'm awake now and it's 2am so pass the tequila because it's PARTY TIME! Egg-cuh-LENT!” I just don't know how much longer I can deal with this sans narcotics.

I also don't know how much longer my marriage can take it because I am so frikken tired of restraining a squirmy, flailing, shrieking infant, a mere 12 inches from my husband's head, while simultaneously shooting evil death ray eyes at him for sleeping through the whole ordeal. Seriously. HE MUST BE FAKING!

And, just like her first unaided sitting session, her first word was picturesque and poignant and by the light of the 2am moon. Dadadadadadada.....

The preciousness of it all almost burst my heart but then I remembered it was 2am and instead, burst into tears. It was a rough night.

Nyquil Anyone?

Your tears make night-owl-baby very happy.

*******************************

There was more but I don't know what I did with it......

HERE...

LOOK AT MORE CUTE BABY PICTURES instead!!!!!

Me: Oh, hai, did I interrupt something?

Them: *cricket* *cricket*

We are officially in that baby phase where her sweet little scream-hole is continually covered with some sort of crusty food residue.

Like all the time.

If Mommy doesn't give you what you want, just do this.....

THANKS HONEY!

Citrus is Lizzie's catnip.

He's the Daddy...

noreply@blogger.com (Gena) — Thu, 18 Feb 2010 02:30:00 +0000

Wordful Wednesday

A damn good bloggy idea from:

********************

Post a pic...
Say a bunch of words...

********************

Stephen is a good daddy.

He's not perfect. He doesn't read books to her. He doesn't doesn't even read the parenting books to himself. If he has a spare moment or a few hours to do as he pleases, you will not find him googling about baby sleep habits (like I do) or lookng into 529 plans (like I do).

That drives me crazy.

He will, 100% of the time, forget to put socks on her, under her sleeper, unless I remind him.

That drives me crazy.

He does not see the need to cover her head with a blanket when the arctic air is blowing snow in all directions and he will give me the deer in the headlights look if I ask him about his opinion on vaccines, starting solids, breastfeeding or any other important baby related decision.

That drives me crazy.

But he will always change her diaper. He will always get up to pat her when the baby monitor starts howling. If I say “Can you take her?”, he always says “Yes.”

She adores him. She lights up when he gets home. She jumps in my arms with squeals when he talks to her in his excited voice. She relaxes in his lap and assumes his couch potato stance as they watch bad TV or play violent video games together. Often times they pass out on the couch while I am folding laundry or cooking dinner. They snore in harmony.

He gives her a bath, gives her all her medicine, puts her in her jammies.

Every night. By himself.

And every night he takes her upstairs to our bedroom window and peers down at the neighborhood, spying on the neighbors, calming her down for the night in the darkened room. He waits for me to finish rushing around downstairs: emptying the bath water from the kitchen sink, stuffing the dishwasher, erasing the dinner smears from her highchair, the table, the counters. And when I have carved a huge chunk out of my evening routine, I go up there to nurse her. He peeks her sleepy little head around the corner and into the nursery.

“Where's Mommy?”

Her eyes find me in the rocker and she smiles. We start our evening routine. Sometimes we read a book or two. I make the sign for milk. She drinks heartily and drifts off to sleep. Her hand covers her ear and she talks in her sleep. Because Stephen has done the mundane steps of bedtime preparation, I can focus on nursing her and enjoying this time. And not feeling rushed or thinking of how long it takes to get her from her highchair to her crib. On the rare chance he gets home too late, I realize how much it helps to have him split this time with me. I forget that he could try harder. Worry more.

Be more like me.

But somehow, in a totally different way and with a totally different attitude, he's exactly what she needs.

He's a good daddy.

Is it bedtime yet?

noreply@blogger.com (Gena) — Sun, 14 Feb 2010 04:22:00 +0000

Saturday Ramblings

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Stephen: "What are you doing?"

Me: "Thinkin' about startin' a blog entry..."

Stephen: "Nice. Gonna make a Blentry?"

Me: "What?"

Stephen: "You know... Blog is short for WebLog. And a blog entry is a Blentry.... Get it?"

Me: "sigh........."

*****************************

Oh Daddy.....

You slay me!

********************************

My muffin slept from 7pmish to Midnightish last night. Then I gave her a dream feed (where I pick her up without waking her and nurse her) and put her back down. With her hunger timer now restarted, I went to bed myself. She didn't wake up until this morning at 6amish.

Earth shattering? Brag worthy? Yup. Sure as shit is.

My whole life right now revolves around how to achieve, maintain and enjoy MORE SLEEP. Like, more than 2 hours at a time. I have been in serious sleep deficit since I was 7 months pregnant. I am not functioning as sharply as I need to be. My thoughts are muddled and my humorous comebacks delayed. I cannot wait for this sleep situation to resolve itself. With or without NyQuil.

*************************************

Wait.... go back to the part where she's going crazy from me not sleeping enough....

That shit cracks me up every time!

****************************

One of my FaceBook friends had a status update that said "Random thought: what if in the future the use of nano technology enables us to fight colds, except, it's like a subscription to Norton where you gotta pay every year to stay "current."

And it made me think about every day when I boot up the ole' laptop and my Norton thingy screams at me to renew my subscription! NOW! You're not PROTECTED!

And I am so lazy that I don't click to renew and I know I won't any time soon.

And yet I can't even be bothered to click on the "Remind me in 15 days" bubble. I leave it on the "Remind me in 1 day" bubble and click "ok".

See you tomorrow, daily reminder of my debilitating procrastination skills!

***********************

Ninja Baby sees your inadequacies and is recording them for future therapy sessions.

***********************

Most recent Awesome Movie Quote?

Wheeler in Role Models...