This is what I’m busy dealing with and the reason why I can not compose a decent post.
The girl had gone completely MOODY on me.
She has a vagina, so it was BOUND to happen, but GOOD GOD, baby girl. It’s just lunch, no need for all of the drama!
Funniest part is one minute she’s pissed, the next, she’s hugging and kissing me, telling me “I wah wah” (I love in in “Gabby”.) One minutes she’s cuddling with her lambie, the next she’s biting it and growling at it.
GROWLING! My daughter growls!
Oh, the drama! I can’t even stand it. And I can’t even begin to imagine what is in store in the coming years, especially the years in which SHE GETS HER PERIOD AND CRIES ABOUT EVERYTHING AND ANYTHING AND SLAMS DOORS AND THREATENS TO NEVER EAT AGAIN BECAUSE SHE HATES ME FOR BEING SUCH A HORRIBLE MOTHER!
It’s a good thing that girl is so damn cute and that it’s almost impossible to get mad at her because of her dimples and the fact that she is ONE YEAR OLD AND ONLY HAS TWO TEETH! I mean, I’d be tempted to throw her out back with Willie and Asshole dog were it not for her incredible cuteness. THE MOODY IS TOO MUCH TO DEAL WITH, PEOPLE.
Category Archives: Parenthood
Special Sauce with Extra Cheese, because you ALWAYS get extra cheese on your birthday.
12:18am, a year ago, my daughter took her very first breath.
I laid eyes on the daughter I never thought I’d have.
My husband wept as he stared at the little girl he had always dreamed of having.
At 12:18 am, after 24 hours of labor, our worlds were forever changed.
For the better.
In ways we’d never imagined.
One year ago, today, Gabriella Mercedes made her grand entrance into this world, weighing 8lbs, 5 oz and having a head full of thick, shiny, black hair that the nurses would lovingly refer to as “a wig.”
One year ago, today, I gazed into the eyes of the baby who would rip farts like no other baby girl ever born. (I HAD to mention The Farting. The Cheese was starting to choke me)
A year ago, today, I fell in love, for the third time, with a child of mine. A child who did not have a penis, who was without balls, for this child was a girl. A beautiful, amazing, soft, sweet smelling, tender, wrinkly, chunky, darling, abolutely perfect little girl.
I am humbled and I am honored to call myself her mother.
If she could read this (and she totally could if I had taken the time to teach her because, baby girl is a genius!) I would say these words to her right this very minute…Happy Birthday, Special Sauce. I’m so glad you came into my life. I needed you, I wanted you and I’ve loved you deeply for as long as I knew you existed, before I had even laid eyes on you. You’re such a beautiful girl, in so many ways. I even find your poop to be precious. THAT’S how much I love you, sweet girl. Thank you for the incredible gift of joy you have given to me, to your father, to your brothers and everyone else who has had the pleasure of knowing you for this past year. You simply are the best thing that has happened to The Four of Us. I love you. Keep on farting, because Fizarts are funny and mommy LOVES The Funny.
But not as much as I love you.
How quickly the time passes and how easily I am reduced to a ball of cheese
I’m currently working on the details of Special Sauce’s first birthday party.
One year old.
In just two days my baby will be one.
Wasn’t it just yesterday that I was nothing more than a Panty sniffing, walking uterus?
Wasn’t it just yesterday that I was furiously rubbing my nipples trying to induce my labor?
(Before I continue with this post, I must interrupt to say something about that post I just linked. THAT POST is one of the reasons that I love my blog. Had it not been for this blog, I totally would have forgetten that my husband actually told weeks before I had my daughter that he wanted me to make sure I took a shower right before we left for the hospital so that his daughter would be born “out of a freshly clean twat.” How I have not yet ripped his balls from his body, I do now know. Ok, on with the post.)
Wasn’t it just yesterday I was pissing myself whilst walking at the mall trying to make the baby come out already?
The reality of a year having passed by so quickly is overwhelming me and I must warn you people. The Cheese? It is oozing from inside of me. This blog will be DRIPPING CHEESE, so if you don’t like The Cheese, or if you’re allergic to The Cheese? You might not want to visit for a while. Because it’s going to be All Cheese All The Time for a while.
A perfectly good example of what happens to your brain after THREE.
“I have three kids.”
“Three kids”
“I am the mother of THREE.”
It’s been almost a year since I’ve been able to say that and it still feels weird coming out of my mouth.
T-h-r-e-e.
“Why, Yes, I’ve pushed THREE skulls out of my vagina!”
I used to laugh at People With Three Kids.
“HA!HA!HA! I only have two! And they wipe their own asses! And they go to school all morning so I have the ENTIRE DAY to myself! Hahaaaaa!”
Three.
Uno.Dos.Tres.
Last night, Tony and I were discussing the fact that Gabby is almost a year and still not walking. Both of my boys were walking by 11 months. (Andrew at 10, I believe). And man, we couldn’t have been happier because THEY WERE WALKING BEFORE ALL THE OTHER BABIES! Because, in case you haven’t noticed, parents get competitive about that stuff.
With her? I am not trying to rush her. I know how fast they grow. My First Baby is TWELVE WITH HAIRY BALLS people. I never imagined the day I’d say that would come so quickly. Ok, I never imagined I’d say that, EVER, but still. I don’t want my little girl to grow so fast, so if she crawls til she’s 2? I DON’T CARE.
One skull. Two skull. Three skull.
THREE.
Besides, I wouldn’t care to learn how to walk if I were her! I mean, What’s the point of walking when she can sit on the couch and drink Green Tea Frappucinos all day long?
That’s right, one of the skulls that passed through my vagina is addicted to Green Tea Frappucinos.
Raising An Addict is fun!
Fun and a LITTLE scary, because, well, Look at her eyes!
She’s possessed by The Bucks. And DON’T YOU DARE TRY TO TAKE IT AWAY FROM HER.
PROOF that she hates it when you do that.
Lucky for you, my camera doesn’t have sound because if it did? YOu would have heard The Scream of Death as I pryed it out of her hands and you don’t have to tell me what a bad mother I am because I gave it back to her as soon as she screamed because I already know that but man, it’s hard to not give into that girl because THAT FACE and yeah, I know she’s going to own me and I’ll regret it, but, again THAT FACE so leave me alone about it already, PLEASE?
I have no idea how I went from skulls exiting vaginas to asking you to “please stop telling me how to raise my children!”
My THREE children.
P.S I’m ok, just really busy , but thank you (you know who you are) for checking up on me.
The Power of two teeth and squinty eyes
My daughter has learned to use her “Charm” to get what she wants.
A talent that I have never been able to master.
Perhaps it’s because I do not possess the Gift of Charm, (not to be confused with the Gift of Farting on Command, because that gift? I totally possess.)
This little girl, however, is bursting with charm.
And MAN, does she know how to work it.
Example.
She was outside watching her daddy “clean the rocks” he was going to use in the planter out front. She gradually made her way to the bucket full of water and rocks and started touching them.
“Awww” I said, “She’s helping her daddy! How cute! I MUST GO GET THE CAMERA!”
By the time I came out, she had decided she wanted to eat the rocks and bite them with the only two teeth she has.
“No! Don’t put those in your mouth, Mimi.” I said firmly.
Apparently, in baby talk, “no” means “again! do it again!” because the second Tony took one rock out of her mouth, she immediately grabbed another one and shoved it in her piehole as fast as she could.
“G-a-b-r-i-e-l-l-a-m-e-r-c-e-d-e-s, No!” I said even more firmly then the first time.
What does the girl do?
That. That’s what. Everytime we told her no.
And that’s what she does everytime we try to “discipline” (I use the term loosely) her.
Me: “No!”
Her.
Me: “Gabby! Stop!”
Her.
Me: “Biting’s not nice! Be nice!”
Her. (as she bites)
The girl is good. Really good.
Too bad for her, it’s only going to work for SO LONG on me, but her dad? She’ll have him snowed for the rest of his life. I can already tell you people that I’ll be the parent she hates because “I’m mean.” “I never let her do anything” “I always say ‘no’!” “I wrote about her farting on the internet!”
But Dad? Dad will be the hero that saved her from The Mean Mommy.
I can not WAIT to see how right I am on this one.
From sad to GO BACK ALREADY in less than 10 minutes.
Yesterday was the boys last day of school.
I was an emotional wreck. My “babies” are now in SEVENTH and THIRD grade. How did that happen? I remember finding out I was pregnant with my Andrew like it was yesterday.I was only 21 years old, with perky boobs. (Ah, perky boobs.) I thought I might be pregnant and decided to pee on a stick.
“A LINE! I’M PREGNANT! LOOK! A LINE! LET’S GO SHOW MY MOM!”
Quiet on the SET!
I just put up a new set of pictures at Flickr.
(pink bathing suit? FOUR DOLLAH at Old Navy. Ahhhh yeah)
I admit that I got so caught up in the picture taking, that at some point, I began “role playing” and my roll was that of a “professional photographer.” I don’t know what got into me! At one point during the “session”, I was on my knees, looking up, yelling at Tony to “Throw her higher, but wait til I say “TWO!”
I love LOVE how the pictures turned out. I should pretend to be a pro photographer more often, because, wow. I’m in love with “my work.”
Joy, Unexpected
I love that little girl.
My God, I love her.
I can’t get over how perfect she is. How beautiful she is. How precious she is. How funny she is. How sweet she is.
She wasn’t supposed to be here.
I’d hear people talk about their “OOOPS” baby. Their “unexpected baby.”
I’d laugh and say “I don’t know what I’d do if that happens to us! Thank GOD for The Rythym Method!”
OOPS!
Ten months later, I STILL can’t get over the whole “She wasn’t supposed to be here” factor. It just makes her so damn special to all of us.
Oh, and did you notice, my daughter, the one I never thought I’d have, HAS DIMPLES?!?
I CAN’T EVEN STAND IT SOMETIMES. She’s just so… amazing. And so, unexpected. And so… not planned and so… MY DAUGHTER.
There. I think I got it out of my system. It was either write it out, or run up and down the street naked screaming “I HAVE A DAUGHTER THAT WASN’T PLANNED AND I TOTALLY LOVE HER AND WANT TO BITE HER TO PIECES!!”
The one where I never SHUTUP.
I no longer believe that the fact I’ve lost 3 pounds in the last few days without even trying is not due to the fact that I have cancer.
It is due to the fact that I have a 10 month old human being who is into everything, everywhere, every waking minute of every waking day and I don’t have a chance to sit down and relax at ALL because I have to keep my daughter from choking on things, breaking things, knocking the trash can over and playing with raw chicken skin, and so on and so forth.
And let’s not forget CHEWING THINGS.
I’d like to submit evidence.
Exhibit A.
Yeah, she may only have 1 and a half teeth, but she KNOWS HOW TO USE THEM.
The reason we spent the extra money to buy that crib was because it turns into a bed! So we were like “sure, it costs more, but we can use it for YEARS!”
Obviously, we weren’t thinking about the possibility that our daughter would be part beaver.
I couldn’t even finish my dump this morning because the girl decided she didn’t want to stay in the bathroom with The Stink and TOOK OFF. I was sitting there, on the pot, screaming for her “GABBY! Come back to mama! I take it back! You can totally play with the clorox bleach!” Nope, she was gone. And so, I had to up and wipe because, trust me, she could kill herself because? We haven’t baby proofed yet. I thought we still had time! With the first, you’re on that shit like Tom on Katie, but by the time the third one pops out, you’re much more relaxed about everything.
I can relax NO MORE. The girl is on the move and looking for trouble.
I don’t NEED any trouble.
Unless by “trouble” you mean a bottle of wine and a rubbing of the feet. Because I totally need that.
Stop being embarrassing, mom!
In keeping with my new plan, which I like to call, “Operation Trying to be One Of Those Mom’s”, I decided to make my kids lunches this week, instead of forking over $23.50 for them to buy lunch.
What a stupid idea THAT was.