Thursday, January 12th, 2012
So you know what gets more smiles from strangers than a dad carrying his baby daughter through the grocery store? A dad in uniform carrying his baby daughter through a grocery store. Honest to pete, my face is sore from all of the polite smiles I had to return trying to walk through Safeway the other day. All these people were glancing at Phil, looking back over their shoulders at him, nudging whoever they were with and jerking their head in our direction.
“Look! A man with a baby! A man in UNIFORM with a BABY!”
I GET IT, IT’S ADORABLE. HE FARTS IN BED, THOUGH. THEY BOTH DO. JUST SO YOU KNOW.
I’m not mad. I’m just bitter, probably. Whenever I take Penny through the grocery store, I get some smiles, but mostly a train a passive aggressive olds telling Penny to tell her mommy that her feet are so cold without sockies! So cold! Tell her you need some sockies! Sockies for those feet! Tell her, “Mommy, my feet are so cold here in the store! I need sockies for my feetsies!”
Phil, though? Phil in uniform? All smiles, no mention of sockies.
*****
I think I use Goodreads more than I use any other socially networky thing right now, but there is something that will eternally bother me about Goodreads. I think I’ve talked about it here before, but I’m talking about it again. What are you, the blog police?
Anyway, I had several false starts with using Goodreads (I’ve been member since 2009) and didn’t really get into it heavily until recently, because I got TOO OVERWHELMED. It’s a simple site, but I, like most people, have been reading books for about a berjillion years. That’s roughly 30 berjillion books.
So, I would start listing books that I’d read, and pretty soon, I’d become hopelessly overwhelmed with the task of adding EVERY BOOK EVER. I don’t think I ever even got to one berjillion. So I’d give up. If I couldn’t add them all, I JUST WOULDN’T ADD ANY.
Coincidentally, that’s very similar to the stance I have on eating potato chips, but usually goes the opposite way.
So the only way I was able to make Goodreads work for me THIS time is to tell myself that I would only list books from that point FORWARD. I have a couple of favorites listed, but aside from that, I WILL NOT fall down the rabbit hole of books that I’ve read since the dawn of time.
This makes me constantly self-conscious, though, that people will think I started reading at 29. I COULD READ BEFORE THEN. I just can’t allow myself to tempt insanity by remembering every book I’ve ever read, because I can’t just list SOME of the ones I read before I started using Goodreads. It’s none of them or all of them. That’s how it has to be. IT HAS TO BE.
Sometimes, someone I follow rates a book. A book I READ, pre-Goodreads attempt 47. And it’s right there. No searching necessary. It’s right there on the home screen. And all I would have to do is just pick a star rating. One click, and there it is. Added to my books. That’s not so bad, right?
EXCEPT IT IS. The only way I can use Goodreads at all is by telling myself that I have an UNDERSTANDING with the larger Goodreads population. We ALL AGREE that I read books before I started using Goodreads, but I haven’t listed any of them. We just AGREE that it HAPPENED.
If I go ahead and list one, the agreement is BROKEN. Now there’s one listed. And that can lead people to assume that sure, I read books before I started using Goodreads. Or, more accurately, I read BOOK.
No. No. I can’t add any of them. So they pop up in front of me, and instead of clicking, I sit here in front of the computer and worry that people are going to think I HAVEN’T READ THAT BOOK. Then I remind myself of the agreement. But I READ THAT BOOK.
You guys, I’m just saying, it’s hard being me.
*****
So I’ve been preparing for PJs@Tj’s, which is now in less than a month, and in my every waking hour, I find myself thinking about tiny details, which stack upon the other tiny details, which add berjillions of things to my mental to do list, which I haven’t actually started, other than cleaning out the pantry, and I don’t see why anyone would really be in my pantry anyway, so, right. I have not gotten very far yet in the whole “preparing the house for a pile of guests” thing yet.
But I’ve been thinking about it, which we all know is half the battle. And here’s something I’ve been thinking: a while ago, we got this hand soap we really liked. It was some kind of Soft Soap, and the smell was blackberry vanilla. Or black currant and pears. Or something and something. Anyway, it smelled great. Next time we were at the store, though, and needed soap, we just got one of those big old refill jugs, and we’ve been refilling the same bottles – one in the bathroom and one on the kitchen sink.
So, while the bottle says you’ll be washing your hands with a delightful mix of berries and puffy clouds, it’s actually just generic soap smell.
And I wonder, does that make the soap a lie? And, as a hostess, am I being rude with this bait and switch? This soap and swap? This scrub and… drub?
Seriously, I have 18 women descending on my house in less than a month, and this is what is keeping me up at night.
*****
We’ve made a plan. Well, not so much a plan as a plan to make a plan. We’ve decided that when Penny is about five, we’re going to take her on a Disney cruise and a stay in Disney World. We figure we’ve got to plan that far out so that we can save up the money, because I’ve always said that when we do take her to Disney, we want to go ALL OUT.
I mean, we want to stay in one of the hotels right there, so that we can go back to rest as needed. And we want enough days to do everything we want. And I want to take her to that place where they do her up like a princess. We want to be able to throw money around like we have it. Sure, you can have a $75 Mickey balloon! Oh, you let it go? That’s okay, here’s a $115 ice cream sandwich. Wipe your face with this napkin, it was only $5.
We’ve also emailed both of our families to extend an invitation to join us, because, why not? We’re planning far enough in advance that everyone can make it, if they wanted to.
But just today, I started thinking that there needs to be more to this plan than just saving the money and picking a cruise.
ONE – We’ve got to start watching Disney movies, post haste. This shit is not going to be even a LITTLE BIT MAGICAL if Penny doesn’t know who the hell Ariel is, you know what I mean?
TWO – I’m thinking that by the time she’s two, two and a half, I’m going to want to start working with her on developing a real allegiance to one of the princesses.
I know you’re about to get your Internet dander all up, what with the princess culture! And teaching appropriate values! And rabble rabble! And girl power! And all of that. And to that I say this: Look. Shut up. Because, come on. Did you grow up thinking that you were an actual princess? I mean, did you grow into the total warped asshole of a she-witch that the anti-princess culture people seem to believe will result from exposure to made up, cartoon fancy ladies? By the time you were of reasonable age, did you understand that your suburban town house bore little resemblance to a castle and no one cared when you lost your stupid shoe?
You did, right? You turned out to be a functioning adult? With only a moderate number of tiaras? AND managed to also enjoy Disney movies as a child?
Yeah, so, now that we’ve established that THAT’S possible… I’m thinking Belle. Or maybe Ariel. I mean, Ariel’s a pretty predictable choice, but come on. Obviously the superior princess.
THREE – We’ve got to concentrate on NOT raising an asshole at all, even more so now. Because we’re not going to tell her we’re going until we’re about to leave. You know, like all those YouTube videos? So, we’re going to want a really sweet, really genuine reaction of joy from her when she finds out we’re about to blow all of our money ever on a cruise and a trip. And then we’ll put it on YouTube.
FOUR – I probably have to get a passport.
FIVE - I should also probably learn to swim.
Anyway, I’m already excited. Four or five years is just enough time to build this up in my mind enough that I completely ruin Penny’s enjoyment of the whole thing by trying to force some FREAKIN’ DISNEY MAGIC on her at every turn.
*****
LASTLY, we are considering joining the YMCA. Which seems silly, you say, because there are 800 gyms on base, but look. I can’t go to those. I just can’t. I know people say, “Everyone is there to work out! No one is looking at anyone!” But come on. People look at people. It’s human nature. And while we’d all like to think that no one cares, just a few days on Twitter will net you at LEAST three people saying, “At the gym today… ” and commenting on someone they saw. It’s not always mean or even… anything… but it belies the “no one is paying attention!” crap. So while I’d like to be one of those, “Whatever, I’m above all that” people, I’m not. I cannot go to a gym on base, full of people whose job it is to be in great physical condition.
And I really don’t want any more of that “no but really, no one is paying attention to anyone else” stuff. I know you’re lying. You know you’re lying. There’s no point in trying to get someone to go exercise where they won’t be comfortable, because they will try it once or twice and not be able to stand it, and then, worse than the guilt of not trying, you have the guilt of QUITTING.
So is it silly to pay for a gym membership when you can go to a gym for free? I don’t know. I don’t think so. My mother has had a membership to the Y for a berjillion years, and there’s a gym in her office building. She wouldn’t go to that one. She wouldn’t be comfortable. So it’s the choice of paying for a place you’re comfortable, or not working out at all. So far, the choice for me has been “not at all,” so I’m beginning to be quite convinced that paying for something that is also available for free, in this case, is not totally ridiculous.
It’s not, right?
*****
I can’t think of where else I’m ever going to work these in, and I need more people than Phil to appreciate me, because he doesn’t laugh, he just says, “Yeah, that’s funny.” Even when I can see him TRYING NOT TO LAUGH. Won’t even give me the courtesy of a laugh. Anyway, two things I have come up with recently, regarding Penny:
1. Count Yak-ula.
2. She had a yak-cident.
Posted in daily BS, Penny, shameless consumerism | 67 Comments »
Monday, January 9th, 2012
Hey! Penny is eight months old! A while ago! But she’s not nine months old yet, so… victory!
So, my daughter. What a delightful little asshole she is. Let me tell you about her.
Words: None.
Movement: Can still only roll back to belly. No locomotion.
Teeth: Two!
Firsts: Christmas. Plane rides. Waves.
Loves: Riding in the shopping cart, obvs. Collecting adoration from retirees in the Commissary.
We shop a lot, okay?
Food-based likes: Noodles, apples, bananas, puffs, waffles, banana toast, broccoli, chicken noodle soup, chili, whatever you are eating right now what’s that you got there I want it.
Music-based likes: The Rocky Theme, 90s summer hits, anything with the word “Penny” in it, any song that can be altered to be about Penny. Dashboard Confessional.
Hates: Having her nose touched.
Annoying features: The two fisted punch of teething and travel-related sleep disturbances. Weird raspberry/spitting thing.
Weird-ass features: Squawks. Shrieks. Shakes with excitement over just about anything, but mostly approaching food. Bounces while laying on her back or while being held. I don’t know, you’ve got to see this shit to believe it. She’s an odd one, this Penelope.
Finds hilarious: Fake sneezes. When an adult mimics her weird-ass bouncing. Sheldon. Attempts to “eat her belly.” Weird jokes that only she understands.
Finds terrifying: Other babies.
Anyway, Penny hasn’t really made any super developments over her last month. We were really busy with the holidays, of course, and she did great. She was perfectly content to be passed around strangers and was a champion flyer. She cleaned up at Christmas, gift-wise, and loves every single present equally. So she thinks. I have not yet broken out the parachute.
I’ve thought this before, but I think it again this last month – it seems like we’re really figuring this stuff out. She started out this shrieking mystery of unnamed needs, but at this point, we know at a glance what’s up with her. We know when she’s tired, when she wants to eat, how much she’ll probably eat, how to calm her down, how to put her to sleep, how to handle her in public, how to distract her when she’s about to lose her mind, how to make her laugh, how to entertain her. It wasn’t that many months ago that I didn’t think that any of that would ever be possible.
I know that eventually we’ll hit some terrible phases, but at the moment, we continue on the uphill climb that started when she started smiling. Which she still does. All the time.
And she also waves, which is hilarious, because while at first it looked like she was waving “hi” and “bye” appropriately, now it seems she waves to signal that she’s tired or cranky or wound up. She definitely waves, she just doesn’t exactly get when she’s supposed to.
She also recognizes Phil as “daddy,” but hasn’t quite put together yet that I’m “mama.” I don’t really refer to myself that way – you know, “Mama’s here,” or “Mama’s got you,” or “Mama is going to put you in the closet if you don’t can it.” I probably should, but while I talk to her ALL DAY LONG, talking in that way doesn’t really come too naturally to me. Phil’s great at talking to her and playing with her and reading to her. I, on the other hand, basically talk to her all day like she’s a girlfriend come to visit and hang out while I do laundry. She’ll probably call me “Hey.”
Whatevs. That’s fine. We know we’re buds, and that’s what counts.
You know what month eight really was? The month it started boggling us how different she’s become. We can’t believe it. We say, “Remember when she… ” and “Remember how she looked when… ”
It’s not that she’s gotten so big, exactly. It’s more like… was she really ever that SMALL?
Can no longer be counted on to just LEAVE THAT BEAR ALONE FOR TWO SECONDS I JUST NEED TO TAKE ONE PICTU– COME ON!
Posted in Penny | 19 Comments »
Wednesday, January 4th, 2012
I have this to do list of things that I am supposed to have put here by now, so sit back and listen to me tell you why I haven’t put them here.
1. Penny’s 8 month post. I know I’m not going to keep these posts up forever, and like last month, I’m wondering if this is going to be the month that it finally stops, but I HAVE GOOD INTENTIONS. It’s just that every time I go to take the picture with the bears? Penny throws up on herself. Enough to ruin a picture, but not enough to justify changing her outfit.
“Oh my GOD. I ALWAYS change my baby’s clothes when he pukes on himself! ALWAYS!!”
WELL INVITE ME TO YOUR AWARD CEREMONY FOR MOTHER OF THE PLANET AND I PROMISE TO FEEL SUITABLY INFERIOR.
I hope this isn’t the month I finally allow my true laziness to come through, though, since this was the month that contained Penny’s first Christmas, as well as some actual milestones. Like WAVING. You guys. She waves and waves. Last night she wouldn’t sleep, so she was laying in our bed, and it was like she was COMPELLED TO WAVE. And she waved and waved, but she only waves with her left hand, and she was laying down. So it wasn’t so much waving as it was a rhythmic slapping of Phil’s face while he tried to sleep.
I’m not going to lie, Internet. It was hilarious.
Seriously, though. She wants to wave when she should be sleeping. I don’t know how to communicate to her that she’s pretty much nailed it and doesn’t need to practice anymore. Not very Tiger Mom of me, I know.
2. Our trip to Pennsylvania for Penny’s first Christmas. Penny was an amazing traveler. She got all kinds of compliments about her behavior on the planes. It was much easier than we possibly could have hoped, with the only real difficulties being ill-timed poops and how uncomfortable it is to hold a lap baby in those small seats. Even travel with cloth diapers wasn’t especially terrible.
Santa only brought Penny a couple of things, including some new pajamas and a PARACHUTE.
The pajamas are particularly awesome:
The whole of the Christmas trip would be a bit too much to cover at the moment, and to be honest, one very small thing has really soured me on the memory of it all. I’d rather write about her first Christmas when I’m a little less irritated. Irritated is a very gentle word for it.
I assure you, though, Santa came out looking like a chump with his few simple gifts. Grandparents, aunts and uncles filled in where Santa was stingy and Penny now owns, among other things, her very own iPhone case and apps, a baby doll and stroller, and an entire new wardrobe.
Santa got schooled.
3. Baby led weaning. This style of feeding the baby is really working out well for us, especially since Penny popped up a couple of fangs over the holidays. She’s sitting behind me right now, enjoying a mid-morning snack of apple scrapings.
Do you see her scrapings? She just learned how to do that yesterday. And she was DELIGHTED. Shrieks of glee. She positively gorged herself on teeny, painstakingly fanged scrapings of apple. It was hilarious, as you could tell that she was totally shocked – she’s used to just sucking and gumming on her apples. She was grinning at me around a mouth of apple mush, like she thought she was the first baby in the history of the world to spring teeth and learn how to use them.
She’s gotten very excited and kind of demanding about food. On the plane, Phil and I each had a sandwich and she was giving his the eye. So, as we usually would, he pulled off a small piece of bread and a little turkey shaving for her, and she WAS NOT HAVING IT. She dropped them and strained and reached as far as she could – NOTHING BUT THE ENTIRE SANDWICH WOULD DO.
She wants whatever you’ve got.
Anyway, it’s simple enough to say that Penny is eating anything and everything, but I’ve gotten a good number of questions about the way we choose to feed Penny – what we feed her, if we cut up her food, what about choking, etc – so it would probably be best to do a more detailed post explaining how Penny has handled being thrown into the deep end of food with no spoon feeding and no purees. I will do that. I swear.
4. Cosmo! I’ve had the newest Cosmo for the longest time, and I can’t work up the desire to do this one. Know why? Because Scarlet Johansson is on the cover. I don’t know, something about her really chaps my ass.
You know how people have lists? You know, the people you’re allowed to totally get with and your spouse can’t get mad, because, come on, the list? Phil doesn’t really have a list, but one time when I asked him, he said, “I don’t know… Scarlet Johansson, I guess?”
AND I VETOED HIM. Even though you’re not really allowed to do that with the lists.
I just don’t like her. Something’s not right. She looks like she just smelled her own butt all the time. Unless she’s playing some super cute character, but even then I can’t get into it, because I remember all these pictures of her where she looks like she just smelled her own butt. I feel like if I ever talked to her, I’d be wondering if I smelled like a butt the whole time. She has this air about her that makes me think that SHE thinks that everyone in the world but her smells like butt, but you know what? It’s probably her own butt, because I think she’s up it.
Anyway. Next month!
Posted in daily BS, Penny, TJ Notes, Wait, what? | 36 Comments »
Tuesday, November 22nd, 2011
This is the first year that I’ve had a blog, I think, that I haven’t even attempted NaBloPoMo. It is more NaBloDon’t-Po-No-Mo’ for me, I think. I don’t know. I don’t have any excuses and I’m not going to apologize, I just haven’t really made it around these parts too often in the last few weeks. There’s tons to read this month, though. I’ve noticed that a lot of newer bloggers are really putting a lot of effort into NaBloPoMo, while some older bloggers are doing it but REALLY phoning it in.
I’m just saying. I’ve NOTICED.
*****
The power is going to be off for a significant amount of time on Wednesday. That’s pretty much no big for me, except for the fact that neither of our laptops is holding a charge for any length of time, so laptoppery is pretty much out of the question. Penny’s basically battery powered, so I don’t have to worry about her, so I spent a little while the other night loading my Kindle up with all sorts of books. One book wouldn’t be enough, because I like to start several before I decide which one will have my attention for the duration, and then repeat for the next book.
Anyway, I sat on my Kindle.
(“This is why I buy extended warranties. Because of your butt.” — Phil)
There’s a new one coming on Wednesday, so it’s really not totally traumatic, except for the fact that WHAT WILL I DO ON WEDNESDAY? With no power? And a baby?
Phil said, “Well, you could take her to the library.”
AHAHAAA HAHAAAA — wait, you don’t follow me on Twitter, do you? So you don’t know why that’s hilarious? And that the base library is my absolute nemesis forever and ever?
Well, trust me. It is. Up that place’s.
And then I realized I wouldn’t have my Kindle for bed time, which is tragic. Because I’ve been taking a medication that makes me not sleep. At all. And I need something to do while I just lay there, forever.
Phil said, “Well, you could read an actual BOOK.”
“NO. ALL OUR BOOKS ARE STUPID. I READ THEM ALL. I HATE PAPER.”
So you know what I did? I didn’t take my medication last night. And I fell ASLEEP! I was sleeping like I’d been doing it my whole life. It was incredible.
Penny got a shot yesterday, so the incredibleness lasted about 24 minutes. Those things will fuck a baby up, seriously.
This whole section had no real point. I broke my Kindle with my butt.
*****
PICKLE BREAK.
*****
You know, I’m not really scared about putting pictures of Penny on the Internet. I know people can see her. I also take her places, and plenty of people see her there.
I know the fears people have. That a certain kind of person will see the pictures and think thoughts about them. Or save them to a hard drive to think thoughts about them at will. And I don’t like that idea. I don’t like it at all. But the thing is, I don’t feel like I can stop that from happening in life in general.
I have to tell you, all the craziest people I have met? I met them in REAL LIFE. I can keep pictures of Penny off the Internet, but what am I supposed to do in the mall? At a playground? Places where these certain kinds of people may actually GO. They might BE there. To look. And to save those pictures in their minds.
I don’t know. I could be totally naive, but I don’t feel like pictures of Penny online put Penny at anymore physical risk than she is in real life. And I don’t feel that someone looking at her pictures and thinking thoughts is any more likely to happen due to someone coming across my website than it is due to me taking her places where children go, and where people who like children may also go.
This is a weird topic to talk about. It’s okay if you disagree with me.
I DO have a fear about Penny’s pictures online, though. I don’t know if this happens as often as it used to – and oh lawd, back in the early days of blogs, it happened ALL THE TIME – but I am afraid of pictures of Penny being used for deception.
You know, where someone stumbles across a cache of pictures of the same baby and makes a fake blog – always a sob story. Cancer, some rare disease, anything. Or even maybe just a fake life. Whatever. But they portray someone else’s baby as their own.
THAT is my concern with posting Penny on the Internet. That someone will steal her pictures and claim her as her own. Does that actually hurt me in any way? No. But if you’ve been blogging forever, you’ve been burned by one of these people, and you know how it feels. I would hate to have Penny any part of that.
I only post pictures of Penny on THIS blog. I have NO other blogs (aside from Penny’s Tumblr). If you see Penny somewhere else, PENNY HAS BEEN NABBED BY AN INTERNET BABY NABBER. In a non-physical way, because, come on. Try to nab my baby from me in person. Just try it. I will come at you like a fucking spider monkey.
If you ever see my baby ANYWHERE, anywhere at ALL, and you are concerned that it wasn’t me who posted her picture, PLEASE let me know. Even if you’re just not sure. Let me know. I went through a lot of shit for this baby and I won’t have someone else claiming my efforts.
“It’s understandable, of course. I am one fine-ass baby.”
*****
Hey, I don’t really know what kind of toys and stuff to get Penny for Christmas. What do you get an 8 month old for Christmas?
Don’t give me that, “Oh, don’t get her anything, she won’t remember!” or “Just wrap up some of her current toys, she won’t know the difference!” Save that shit for your second, less awesome, less loved children.
Right now, she’s really into stuff like Steve Canada – things that crinkle and what not. But she’s sitting a bit now, and I expect that to improve, so I figure she needs some toys for babies who can sit upright. I have no idea. Are the age ranges on toys generally pretty accurate? Because if so, the toys for Penny’s age look pretty dull. I mean, my baby isn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer, but I’d like to give her a little credit. Or at least a little incentive to hone her edge a bit. Because, come on. Peek-a-boo, Penny. This is basic stuff.
We aren’t going apeshit, we do intend to keep things small this year, because you’re right, jerks, she won’t remember. But we will. But I’d like to know what went over well with your kids in the 6-12 month range. Like her jumperoo – she goes apeshit for that thing. I’d like a couple ideas that inspire apeshittery in babies. Every parent wants to be a Christmas hero, right?
Seriously, what do you get babies for Christmas? I already have pajamas for her, and a wooden worm. What are your babies and former babies into?
*****
Normally, I’d write another thousand words here, but have I told you that Penny, the incredible non-napping baby, is on a NAP SCHEDULE? Six months, you guys. It pretty much rules.
Posted in daily BS, Penny | 77 Comments »
Friday, November 11th, 2011
Penny turned six months old a couple of weeks ago. Normally, I’d write this post on the actual day of the six monthening, and it would be in the same format that I’ve used for all of the other monthenings, loosely, but I think that six months has brought on our first phase, and all I can see and hear and do and think about is this phase.
First, I have to say that Penny at six months is awesome. I mean, compared to Penny at one month, or three months, or even five months. This baby shit gets better all the time, I think. I doubt that upward trend lasts forever, but we’re enjoying it right now.
She has preferences about this, and habits (most of them annoying, but still), just like a real person. She laughs and smiles a lot, and is generally pretty happy. Her napping leaves a lot to be desired, as always. It’s not that I need her to nap more for her own benefit, though. It’s easy to tell when she’s tired, and she’ll go to sleep. But she wakes up entirely refreshed after 20, 30 minutes at the most. I want her to take long naps for MY benefit.
She also does this:
She can only turn back to belly, though. She only turns one way, just like Derek Zoolander.
I call this look Baby Steel.
Anyway, that phase. This phase. Oh, god. I wonder, did we spoil her somehow? Is she ruined? But then I remind myself that she’s pretty much right on target for her age, and this IS just a phase.
We can’t walk out of her sight. Ever. At all. Strangers can’t hold her, and we CANNOT BE OUT OF HER SIGHT. She cries and she cries, and there’s only so much crying you can let her do, because she gets SO worked up and it puts both Phil and I on edge and makes us tense and cranky with her in ways that we don’t want to be. Because it’s a PHASE.
It is a phase, right? It’s got to be. Because I’m so tired. I want to nap all the time, I am so tired. But I’m tired from doing nothing. I’m tired from the mental energy exerted worrying about all the things I haven’t done and that need to be done.
Phil never harps on me about the fact that the house is falling to rubble around us. I know that sometimes, he’s frustrated and annoyed and he has a right to be, but he never nags at me about it, never asks what I do all day that leads to NOTHING GETTING DONE AT ALL.
But even though he never bugs me or says anything negative to me, I still felt kind of relieved yesterday when he took a day off and he let me sleep in. I woke up and heard him getting very short and tense and frustrated with Penny, because he was just trying to DO something – do ANYTHING. Pour himself a drink, have some food, clean up dog puke, make HER some food – and she cried and she cried. And even though he never speaks negatively about my inability to get anything done, even though he understands WITHOUT a demonstration, I felt relieved that he was SEEING it, seeing how impossible it is to do ANYTHING because sure, go ahead and let her cry, because things need to get done, but crying babies WILL EVENTUALLY MAKE YOU INSANE.
What can you do, though, right? It’s a phase. You tell yourself it’s a phase both to reassure yourself that there WILL BE an end to it, and also to explain to yourself that it’s normal, that it’s a problem no one has ever in the history of babies solved, and it’s okay to just struggle through it while you’re unshowered and unfed and generally uncared for and no one can judge you because it is a PHASE and it happens to EVERYONE and no one can judge you for that one bottle that went moldy in the sink because the GODDAMN TINY TYRANT WOULDN’T LET YOU WASH THE STUPID THING.
Also, we started some solid foods!
So far, Penny has sampled banana, beans, and apples. She went pretty nuts for a Honeycrisp last night. As nuts as a baby with no teeth can go, anyway. She was quite delighted.
We’re following baby led weaning, if you’re wondering why Penny is chowing down on a whole bean here, and I’ll talk about it more in the future, but I’m not in the mood now. You can look it up, though – there’s a whole wealth of information out there about it.
In short, though, baby led weaning has two major benefits for me, aside from all the ones that are actual benefits. One, it’s freedom from giving a shit. I don’t want food to be this huge issue, like most people. So, until she’s a year old, I don’t give a shit. As they say, “under one, just for fun.” She’ll continue to get the bulk of her nutrition from formula, and we will offer her whole, fresh solids several times a day. Eat it, don’t eat it, stuff it up your nose – we don’t give a shit. The point is that she explores food at her own pace, participates in family meal times, and just gets a feel for the whole thing.
Also, I don’t know about you, but spoon feeding a baby is just about the most fucking tedious thing in the world and I just refuse to do it. I just… I can’t. No.
At six months old, Penny was 24.9″ inches long (in the 15th percentile) and 14 lbs, 11 oz (in the 18th percentile). She remains wee, but proportionate, giving her a nicely rounded, somewhat jolly appearance. She lags a little behind on some motor skills, but we (and her doctors) remain unconcerned.
Aside from this stupid shitty phase, she basically rules.
For reference:
No months
One month
Two months
Three months
Four months
Five months
Posted in Penny | 34 Comments »
Wednesday, November 2nd, 2011
Failing NaBloPoMo on the first day really takes the pressure off for the rest of the month.
*****
LET ME JUST GET THIS OUT OF THE WAY.
Penny was a duck/chicken (chucken?) for Halloween.
Do you love it? I love it. I love it so much that when we have her 6 month portraits taken this weekend, instead of being suckered into the “Holiday” backdrop they are pushing on me so hard, Penny is being a duck-chicken. A dicken. A 6 month old dicken.
*****
I haven’t done Penny’s 6 month post yet, but here’s a brief synopsis: she yells, she’s pleasantly fat, she can roll back to belly and shriek mightily once she arrives there.
She has a test at Phoenix Children’s Hospital tomorrow, one we fully expect to come up negative, but we like making her miserable, so we’re doing it anyway. You should just have us arrested. We’re terrible parents.
Don’t worry about Penny, though. She’s never had good parents, so she doesn’t know any better.
*****
You know, I haven’t been around here too much lately, and you know what it is? I’m enjoying spending time with my kid, which tells me that I’m finally starting to arrive in the time I’ve been looking forward to.
Noemi talked about this the other day, and I feel the same way – ending breastfeeding has really improved my relationship with Penny. Ending it was the right choice for us for a lot of reasons, and while I definitely don’t speak for everyone, it has really turned out to be extremely beneficial in a lot of different ways. The main one being, of course, that I actually ENJOY PENNY a hell of a lot more than I did previously.
With no struggling to feed her, no watching the clock for the pumping schedule, no washing pump parts, no waking up in the night to deal with any feeding-related activities — well, you know, it’s just better. Phil splits the feedings with me. I can leave the house without Penny and not worry about rushing back. I can leave the house WITH Penny and not wrestle with feeding her in public – like Noemi, nursing was never graceful or easy, positioning-the-baby-wise for me.
So, while I do believe that breast milk is certainly the best choice for a baby if it is available, not breastfeeding has been just about the best thing to happen to me since this damn wiener child was born.
*****
A few days ago, Phil accidentally left the lid of the washer up with our bedsheets sitting inside soaking in fabric softener. He asked me if soaking too long in the fabric softener would ruin the sheets, but I wasn’t sure – mainly because in my entire life I’ve caught the rinse cycle in time to add fabric softener about four times, so I don’t have too much experience in the field of softening.
He put the sheets on the bed and made up the bed for the one time it gets made each week and I didn’t noticed anything until the next day, when the blankets were pleasantly running amok and askew, as is my preferred state of the bed. On my side, right about there my butt usually is, the fitted sheet had a different texture than the rest of the surface. On closer inspection, it was full of tears, kind of like a run in pantyhose.
“So, it looks like the fabric softener did ruin the sheets. It really seems to have damaged the more worn spots – I’m pretty sure we’ll have to throw these out.”
“Oh, that’s where your butt goes. Your butt must have put extra wear on the sheets.”
“No way! My butt didn’t — wait, can that happen?”
(You’ll understand that here, of course, I had a moment of insecurity – see: double pear, Two Butt – and, okay, I had a bit of a gassy pregnancy, but not any more gassy than – okay, maybe SLIGHTLY more gassy than the average person, but could that really RUIN the SHEETS?)
“Yep. Your butt put a weak spot in the sheets.”
“WAIT a second. If you flip the sheet around, this spot is where your disgusting, scaly MONSTER FEET would be.”
“Oh. Huh. You’re right.”
“Ha!”
“But your butt finished them off.”
*****
I’m planning something and it’s kept me pretty busy lately, and I expect it to keep me busy for a while longer yet. I’m pretty excited about it, but as with everything I do and cook, there is still the possibility that it will all blow up in my face or otherwise go terribly wrong, so I’m not quite ready to share all the details here yet. If it appears that all is going to go well with my small test group, I will, of course, let the rest of you know about it. Once danger of explosion has passed.
I hope it works out, though. It’s one of those things that I talked about the last time I got around to writing something here. One of those things that you think is something that only other people do, but it suddenly dawns on you that you could do it to, if you wanted to. So, aside from the silly stuff like getting married and having a baby, this is inarguably one of the “biggest” things I have ever done. And if it goes wrong, it will be the biggest thing I’ve ever fucked up. And if it goes right, I AM A HERO.
Well, not a hero. More likely briefly, but SIGNIFICANTLY AND SINCERELY celebrated. Which is probably as close to hero as I will ever get, unless someone who weighs very little needs to be awkwardly rescued from an extremely and freakishly slow burning building and there’s really just no one else at all around who can handle it.
Posted in daily BS, Penny, TJ + Phil | 29 Comments »
Thursday, October 27th, 2011
So, I’ve launched a plot, and I’ve been hatching schemes and other Scooby Doo-esque terms for making plans. I have to keep reminding myself, though, that this is something I can do. Not in the sense that it’s something I’m capable of doing, but more like something I’m allowed to do. Okay, and also a little bit reminding myself – or pep talking myself – that I’m capable.
You know the first time you realize you can do something that previously seemed like it was reserved for other people? Older people, or more adulty people, or just some other kind of people. Like when I bought a car on my own for the first time. It kind of blew my mind that I could walk into a dealership, pick a car, arrange the insurance and the financing and all of that, and drive away in a car. I knew that PLENTY of people bought cars, all the time. But it seemed like something other people did, not something I could do. Both in the sense of something I was ABLE to do and something I was ALLOWED to do. Some people let me walk into their place and drive away in a car. BLEW MY MIND.
So I’ve hatched this plot, because there was something I wanted and out of nowhere, it dawned on me that rather than wait around for one of the specifically ALLOWED people to arrange for this thing I wanted, I could just do it myself. And while I’m [pretty] sure I can pull it off, the fact that I can just DO IT is blowing my mind.
You know that feeling? Am I making sense? It’s like an assumption you have subconsciously, that you don’t really think about, that doing certain things is for OTHER PEOPLE.
OH, like taking a vacation. I’ve never taken a vacation that wasn’t with my parents OR wasn’t specifically to visit family. But Phil and I, someday, could decide to pack up our baby and go some place. ANY place. With no other family there, if we wanted. A non-family, non-visiting vacation. We could just DO that. Go to ANY PLACE. That’s ALLOWED.
But you have to know this feeling, right? I think it’s mostly attached to doing things that we probably consider to be “adult” things to do, for whatever reason, and I’m sure everyone has different things that they consider to be “adult” things. But my plot, it’s not even a specifically adulty thing to do. It’s just a thing that, for some reason, I kind of deep-in-my-mindly assumed was for specific, somehow designated people to handle. And I just suddenly realized that those people had the same, “Hey, I want this, I’m DOING IT” moment that I had a couple of days ago.
Aside from the big stuff – buying a house, bringing home a baby from the hospital, getting married – what kinds of things do you kind of subconsciously put in the “other people, not me” category?
*****
So, this happens now, FINALLY:
Honestly, I told Noemi a while ago that while the first weeks of babyhood seriously blow, blow to the point that you eventually start to insist that it absolutely CANNOT BE DONE and a MISTAKE HAS BEEN MADE, everything starts to slowly chug uphill, rollercoaster-style, once you see the first smile. Truly, it’s just steady improvement from that moment on.
So I have to say, I’m expecting NAPS and I’m expecting less VOMIT and I’m expecting less PUNCHING ME AWAKE now that we’ve got laughing on the regular.
*****
Me: So this cat lives at our house.
Phil: No, he’s not our cat.
Me: Yeah, he doesn’t live IN our house – he lives AT our house.
Phil: He doesn’t live here. He lives under your car.
Me: And you feed him.
Phil: Well, yeah. Not expensive food, though. I buy him the cheap stuff.
Me: And you make sure he has water.
Phil: It’s hot out there.
Me: I saw him sitting on the table out there, on the blankets, yesterday.
Phil: Yeah, I put them there for him.
Me: That cat lives at our house.
*****
If ever a moment of my life should have been video taped, it was just a couple of minutes ago. The dogs were all riled up, horsing around with each other, and the more they wrestle, the more wound up they get. Calming them is a huge pain in the butt. Sheldon leaps around like a deer, bounding around the house, and has NEVER had ANY concept of where any part of his body is in space at any given moment.
So a lot of times, I just pull Penny up onto the couch in my arms and let them wrestle around. I have to hold onto her tightly, because our couch is terrible and even with me and Penny on it, their insane self-flinging bumps the couch and sends it scooting across the living room.
Right when I thought they had settled down – they were somewhere behind me, at least, I don’t know where – I put Penny in a seat and leaned back to stretch, because this baby is turning into a LOAD.
I leaned back over the arm of the couch, kind of into a corner between the couch and the love seat where we have a small end table, arms up above my head, arching my back and getting WAY out there – you know, the kind of stretch where if you don’t stop, you KNOW you’re going to cramp up your entire back, but you don’t stop anyway because it’s too good of a stretch?
Anyway, yeah, I was doing that.
WHEN OUT OF NOWHERE – okay, not accurate – WHEN OUT OF FROM BEHIND THE COUCH, Sheldon, who was not as calmed as I assumed, BIT MY BUN.
Not my BUNS. They were and remain to this moment planted on the couch.
My BUN. In my HAIR.
And my NEVER NAPPING BABY had fallen asleep.
So I am trapped in a stretch, arched over the arm of my couch, and SHELDON HAS ME BY THE HAIR.
I started SCREAM-hissing, “Sheldon! Drop! Sheldon! Drop! SHEEE-HEEEELLL-DON! LET ME GO!”
Anyway, spoiler alert, he let me go.
Posted in Brinkley + Sheldon, daily BS, Penny | 51 Comments »
