OH,AND P.S. - SHE SITS UP NOW TOO

A little video of my wee tiny one sitting up for the first time on her own. Something that is exciting to her parents and grandparents but bores the shit out of most everyone else.

The most notable thing this video does is provide evidence of the HORRID haircut I performed on my defenseless little daughter. I thought I would just, "Trim up the back mullet part a little". Well, it was a bit more challenging than I thought it would be. After all, she IS a moving target.

I started with scissors (that left all those mini bald patches on the back of her head) then graduated to clippers in which she promptly started to cry and hold the back of her head like she just KNEW I was making her look like an idiot. Now for those of you that don't have children, or have not observed them in detail - they have these freakishly short arms that don't even reach the top of their heads when fully extended. This fact should make you appreciate just how hard Rya had to contort herself to try and preserve her dignity from her mothers good intentions.

I had to calm her down by reassuring her that I will never put a bowl over her head for a home-style cut but she did make me promise not to follow through with that Flowbee purchase I have been toying with.

Awwww C'MON - THE HAIR TOO?

A few posts back I revealed a portion of the dirty underbelly of what happens to a woman post-pregnancy, specifically, in the boob region. Turns out, just a bit north of there other changes are occurring - more notably - I am loosing my hair by the fistful. This may not seem like a big deal compared to floppy and mushy boobs but at least you can shove those baby's into some kind of devise that is meant to lift, separate and administer faux perkiness if you can wrangle them accordingly.

Ive always been the kind of person that has no qualms going out of the house without a stitch of makeup on wearing sweatpants that have knee dimples in them from extensive recent lounging - as long as my hair was presentable. As of late, my hair is a limp and lifeless wreck whose entirety can be collected into a quarter inch diameter pony tail....quarter inch people, that's not allot. I leave a trail of tresses (and tears) wherever I go around the house - a cleaning nightmare - and often find a sneaky escaped locke lurking under Rya's armpit or neck folds. Mike has even commented in shock over the copious amounts of hair loss I seem to be experiencing (its probably tied subliminally to, "Can you sweep up this shit already ... ewwww.") Each shower I hope to come away with a rinse that is does not make me consider calling 'Locks of Love' for a donation, only to be alarmed yet again at the handful of my once sassy do.

This is not an isolated event. It has happened to a few other friends of mine, one of which has gotten extensions after the birth of her THREE children. We like to call it her weave. Oh how I covet that weave and wish I had the funds to procure one of my own. Maybe I can create my own foundation, hold a bake sale, and generate extra cash to have some lady sew some another persons hair into my own for hours until I leave, in tears from pain, and with a luscious full flowing head of hair that rivals that of Britney Spears back in the day before she became zitty, chunky, crazy and attacking automobiles with rain gear. Or on second thought, maybe I will give in, shave my own head and grab an umbrella in retaliation for this biological injustice.

HAPPY MOTHERS DAY TO ME

To my baby girl,

34 mother's days have passed in my lifetime and although I enjoyed spending them celebrating my own mother - I never really felt the day like I did today. Being your mother is the greatest joy Ive ever had. Your smile makes my entire world seem ok even when grownup things are weighing on my mind. I crave sharing your experiences and relish seeing you explore the world. I pray every day that I can do your little soul justice and teach you all the things you need to know in order to be a kind, compassionate, creative, curious and strong woman in the future. Would you believe me if I said that I miss you when you sleep? I just simply cannot believe you are mine - my little being to enjoy.

I love you stinky face - so very much.
Thank you for choosing me to be your mommy.

Love,
Mom

EXCITING AND FAST-PACED CAREER PATH

So, for those of you that don't know me personally, I recently lost my job as a commercial interior designer. To put it mildly, the interior design industry is CRAP right now in the current economy. Not only are many of my talented designer friends being let go - but many area firms are shrinking into non-existence. Scary.

I have always felt lucky - I love what I do and am pretty darn good at it. B.B. (before baby), I would tell anyone within earshot that I WANTED to be a working mom. I would try my best to strike a balance between a healthy and involved family life with a successful career. Flash forward, A.B. (um....after baby) and I struggled, as most moms do, with leaving my child in someone elses' care during the day - work stuff seemed so trivial compared to the milestones she would reach without me there as her first witness and cheerleader. Well, that was short lived. Now - I collect unemployment, do some design work on the side for friends and try to structure each day around the mental and physical enrichment of my 6 month old. And since my husband works nights, its just she and I now - taking on the world (or Target at peak busy hours).

Am I happy? Absolutely. But people, let me tell you, the days can get pretty monotonous. How many times can you play with the same primary colored jingly toy or watch Baby Einstein Neighborhood Animals with ANY hint of genuine enthusiasm? How bad can it be you ask? Well let me show you. I have chronicled a day in pictures and video so you can see what this successful up-and-coming designer now does for a living.

Its funny and sad all at the same time.

Morning story time. Testing the video function of
my camera using my favorite subject. (Note: this video
is boring - depicting nothing special or exciting...
but that it the point of this blog post right?)

Later, going for a walk. Need this huge crazy visor to shield
the sun from our delicate visage (and no cute HAT will do -
as noted in previous posts).

Ahhh, walks make us sleeeeepy.




Post walk, diaper change and PJ transition.
Captured a bit more video chronicling my
daughters love of the River Dance.

Trying on other forms of sun protection for
future walks. As you will note from the
expression, this method is approved.

Mom has a thought, "If we will wear a visor
AND sunglasses - why not slip on a super
cute handmade headband and see if the
'no accessories on our heads' ban is up......
don't let the photo fool you - two seconds
into this and she worked up a fuss to beat all hell.
Damn.

In our PJ's and thinking to myself,
"This kid is going to think I never held
her a day in her young life since all the
photos show just her alone or her and dad."
I get her to smile by singing the Itsy Bitsy Spider
song right before I hit the shutter.
Kid loves that song - tried to get her into
some Pink Floyd or Snoop Dog but, no takers.

More PJ shots because, hey,
I don't think I have pushed this camera in
front of her face enough today.

Aaaaaaand we're done.

Cut.
Edit scene.

PARTNERS IN CRIME

"Yo kid, don't turn around or act like we are talking - they are watching. Here is the drill, when you get this walking thing down you are going to learn how to unlock and open the door - I will make a nice clean break and we can be rid of each other for good. Capesh?"

LUCKY GIRLS

I often wax philosophical about the funny side of being me...as a mom. I figure its what people want to read most - it would be what I want to read of others lives on a weekly basis. But this post touches on something that I think every day - Rya and I have hit the husband and father jackpot in Mike. Although there is some hilarity that encircles this relationship, I have certain moments that make me pause and take in our fortune. Among other things: He is a sensitive man but will tell my ass to shut-it when I am actin-a-fool (a much needed combo with my personality type). He is thoughtful and puts us before him on most every instance (something that I love while at the same time wishing he would be selfish for once so I dont feel like such a jerk when I go down that road). And he is funny.....reaaaallly funny. Lately, the best thing about him is watching him be a dad to Rya. He truly relishes every moment with her - not forgoing the icky stuff like diaper changes, morning cereal feedings or late night crying outbursts. He is as excited as I am with all the milestones she reaches and will initiate long conversations about what she will be like when she grows up and how much fun we will all have. In short, he's the perfect dad - the perfect husband and we are both VERY lucky girls.

LASTING FAMILY MEMORIES

For Easter, I imagine that most families dress their little ones in the frilliest of frocks and gather in their finery with the family for a delightful afternoon of conversation and foodstuffs. We do things a bit differently round our parts. Clad in funky modern attire, Rya was passed around to all the family members (along with the deviled egg platter) till she eventually ended up at the table, surrounded by giggling aunties and grandma while they fed her table food (something she has NOT had yet) and put her in newly purchased silly accessories that would induce wild fits of giggles when she made faces at them like, "Heeeey what the HELL is this thing on my head?" I think its supposed to be a crown of some sort but when placed upon her noggin as they did, created a visor type headpiece. I like to call this look The Practical Princess. Amazingly, she not only tolerated these goofy antics, she seemed to truly enjoy herself, as did we.

LETS TALK BOOBS

Oh yea, I said it....BOOBS. As in breasts, knockers or 'the ladies' (what I call mine).

[NOTE: For all those who are family members, men or others with delicate sensibilities - you might want to sit this one out.]

This post - is a shout out to all the moms out there who once had nice, firm, perky boobs (of any size) who's - after birth (and in my case a brief stint at breast feeding) - are now saggy, soggy, mushy and a mere shadow of their former glory. I'm just going to put it out there - I had some really nice 'ladies' back in the day. So much so that some people had commented that they thought I had undergone a breast augmentation. Truthfully, I never really gave them much thought. I figured, "Hey, they work for me" and there you go. But now....NOW I realize what I had and I miss them terribly.

Every day. Allot. Sniff sniff.

Imagine, if you will, two water balloons (not the small party balloons but the HUGE weather sized ones) with say a cup of water in them, nailed to a wall and hoisted daily by a loose cheap cotton 'sling' ....that you bought on sale at Target in the last stages of your pregnancy - and there you have it. My (and many other beautiful women's) daily struggle. I mean, is it not enough to have all the physical CRAP that comes along with pregnancy, delivery and post pregnancy? Do we REALLY need to know what if feels like to roll over on our sides at night (when the ladies are un-holstered) to have our breast flop over and around our arm? REALLY? I think not. Where is the justice I ask?

So, fellow moms, lets all join in a moment of silence for the loss of the last vestiges of our pre-baby youth, "To perky and firm boobs, may you rest (or, when upright, lie floppily on the upper part of our stomachs) in peace."

SERIOUSLY?

Let me set the scene. I was walking into the library the other day - it was chilly - the girl was in jeans, long sleeve top, and shoes while being holstered to me in a baby carrier with my arms around her ... when this seemingly nice lady approaches me just outside the door, all smiles, and this exchange happens;

Nibby lady: "She should be wearing a hat."
Deadpan me: "She hates hats."
Nibby lady: "Well she is going to get sick, its cold outside."
Pissed me: "Its physically impossible to get sick from cold weather alone, thanks though."

Seriously?

What is up with people just throwing out their opinion all willy nilly. If your opinion was, "I really love that sassy outfit you have on her." or "How neat that you take your five month old to the library for new books to read her in an effort to keep the day fresh." Then by ALL MEANS, speak up. But no mom feels breezy and chatty after a sneak attack from the left flank with comments that have an undertone of you are doing it wrong. Cmon people.

Now, I don't mean you guys. I know none of my readers would dare say to a mom - "Are you serious?! What are you feeding her? She must eat a ton." - after the initial question of her current age was answered. Especially after originally referring to your embroidered-peasant top and jean wearing baby GIRL as 'him'. Yea, this little gem of a conversation took place in the craft store check out line the other day. I pride myself with quick witty responses but even I, did not know what to say for this one.

Seriously?

Mmmmmmm

"So, mom. Lets get serious for a minute. What you are saying is that we now eat this mushy crap, sitting upright, without the comfy semi-circular pillow thingie. Um ... not a fan. Not. A. Fan."

IM A DUMB ASS

Posted a new entry - you will find it a few posts down under March 24, 2008 "SHE IS A TREND SETTER FOLKS". Still cant figure out how to prewrite and save these then get them to post at the date I demand. This is not the first time I have done this so you might want to scroll a bit when popping into the blog to see if there is an update. Maybe we could look at it as a fun surprise - like a toy that is hidden in the bottom of the cereal box. Just keeping things interesting.

FUNNY STUFF

In researching the world wide web on how to make my blog the new cult religion that everyone follows....um...religoulsy (and therefore eventually pays for the mortgage and cute new shoes for mommy) - I came across a fantastic blog called Dadicals. Any post that has the headline "Daddy, kitties don't get cold in the freezer" is worth a read. In a sea of mommy blogs it is refreshing to dive headlong into the witty perspective of this man and his three sons. Well written, check it out at http://dadicals.blogspot.com/ .

TA DAAAAAAA!

Having a bit of a crazy week - we have some teeth coming in and we rolled over for the first time - however, not in the candy land version that one would HOPE as a new mom (there is always a twist at our house, hence the blog).

As for the teeth - we have the standard issue two bottom teeth coming in......and ONE of the pointy ones on the top left - yea that's right my kid is going to have FANGS. Do you think this has anything to do with the fact that I read the entire Twilight series during the last few weeks of my pregnancy?

And the rolling over - nope - no idealistic mom sitting by the sidelines cheering for her little one to reach this big milestone. Left the room with her chilling on her back on the towel on the floor after a bath - came back in 30 seconds later to THIS:

Cute but devious. Could she not have WAITED for me to be in the room at least? I am in shock quite frankly at how quickly she is growing up. I feel like I just spit the kid out yesterday. Teeth?! Are you kidding me? You mean, I'm actually a month or so away from making decisions on what she will be eating beyond ounce allotments? Mike is lucky if he gets a can of SpagettiO's and a manual can opener for dinner. I am going to have to bone up on my food pyramid for sure. Is Carnation Instant Breakfast one of the tiers?

And I'm not going to lie - I was excited when she rolled over sure, but my internal dialog was swimming with thoughts like, "Well, shit - you mean she is going to MOVE now - from where I placed her before? No more quick checks on email while she hangs out on her play mat in the next room." Let the fun - and mess - begin.

SHE IS A TREND SETTER FOLKS

My kid is currently sporting not one but THREE different hairstyles. Are they classic like the 'Audrey Hepburn' pixie, trendy like the 'Jennifer Aniston' layered look or even edgy like the 'Bo Derek' cornrow debacle (yea, I just aged myself...moving on)? Nope. As you will note in the given photo - they are three of the WORST styles one could choose.

Exhibit A, The Toupee: A unnatural and noticeable change from ones original hair offset by that of ones 'new' hair (or in this case NO hair).

Exhibit B, The Bald Look: Hip and in-fashion right now with 30 something gentleman. Done in an effort to hide male pattern baldness. Cool if you go the full monty. Not so cool if you just choose a two inch by four inch patch of hair in the back to eradicate.

Exhibit C, The Mullet Starter Kit: We all know what it is and it is NEVER a good look. On anyone. Ever.

Join me, will you, in wishing for a flowing 'Farrah Fawcett' in her future.

JUST A CASUAL STROLL

Went for our first ever outdoor walk with the little one last week. In my mind I pictured a serene family stroll on one of those pre-spring days that brings forth an energy your lazy winter ass had forgotten. A happy baby on an inaugural exploration of the world. Proud parents 'introducing' her to the neighborhood for the first time. Theme song of The Andy Griffith Show playing in the background (the catchy one, you know, with the whistling).

Yea. Well. Not so much.

Try 15 minutes of crying baby hot potato while each of us tried to figure out the puzzle that was our freshly unfolded stroller, another 5 minutes of crying baby while we try to strap her in for dear life, and 20 minutes of us traveling the shortest possible route of our development at a frantic pace with a screaming child while we take turns blocking every tiny element of nature from gracing her delicate presence (read: sun, wind, animal sounds, smells - pretty much everything one would find OUTDOORS). Eventually Mike had to take her out of the stroller entirely in an effort to soothe and muffle the wailing, and carry her briskly while I pushed the stroller a few paces behind trying to keep up.

When we got inside the house, she stopped instantly. Of course. I would not take this as defeat, oh NO! We were going to have a nice walk in the stroller if it was the last thing I did! So I gave the stroller another once over, moving the seat upright more, adjusting the straps and unlocking the wheels (yea, we walked around the block looking like even BIGGER morons when my husband had to pick up the back wheels and twist the entire stroller in an effort to TURN) - strapped the kid in and strolled her tiny ass around the kitchen, living room and dining room for 15 minutes or so. The little shit - she enjoyed the hell out of it and did not make a peep.

Our stroller, a Mutsy Spider, (aka Chariot of Doom) is actually pretty cool - its a great price, folds up tiny and, as it turns out, has a pretty rocking turn radius .... when you release the brakes.

NAPOLEON DYNAMITE WOULD BE SO JEALOUS!

So, don't send the ASPCA for me after reading this but I must share that I have HORRIBLY neglected our other baby - Ari. If you check out my February 15th post you will note that he is an abnormally furry cat - I'm talking mountains of vacuum bags FULL of fur, furry cat. Before the baby came, I had developed a schedule where I brushed him from head to toe every morning. He would actually roll over from side to side when I asked so I could get every last patch detangled, all the while purring and reveling in my whispered compliments that afterwards HE would be the envy of every cat on the block with his Fabio like tresses.

You can see where this is going I am sure. When Rya came home it was not abnormal of me to declare 4:30 in the afternoon "breakfast time" because that was the first moment I had stopped to take a breath for myself that day. Needless to say, the feline grooming sessions ceased to exist and to a peril that none of us could have foreseen. My cat developed dreadlocks so bad even Bob Marley would have winced in sympathy. We couldn't so much as pet him for fear that it was hurting him by pulling on his clumping and felt-like mats. We felt awful. I tried to take the clippers to him one day in some last ditch effort to make things right but that went over like ..... a cat being held down while his tenders were being mauled by an electronic gadget.

So, we defaulted to the professionals. And this my dear friends is what came back to us. Was he ashamed, humiliated, acting oddly? NOPE - he LOVES it! He sashays around the house like someone is constantly shouting "Work it girl!" to him at every threshold. With his stylish mukluk 'boots', giant fluffy tail, enormous ruff and the uncovering of white tiger stripes on his flanks, I am now convinced that he is NOT an average house cat but a "Liger" (a lion and tiger mixed). Bred for his skills in magic (A-la Napoleon Dynamite). If by magic you mean he shits less in his litter box now that he does not have to 'bathe' all those flowing locks - then move over Chris Angel, there is a new kid in town!

WATCH OUT GISELLE

Recently we went to my in-laws house for a rare visit. My father in law (PaaaaPaaaaw is the handle he has given himself), is an amazing photographer and we set up Rya's first photo shoot. Some of the images that came out of this exorcise were stunning - dream photos that any mother would want to have of their four month old infant (see evidence of this above). But I am here to uncover what we all know is the dirty truth. Mothers only want to showcase the most aesthetically pleasing images of their offspring because it is a reflection of themselves...after all, we did HAND CRAFT these little beings out of our own genetic material right? What we all seem to forget, as we rifle through the albums of our friends or family members, is that there is a box or electronic file somewhere with gnarly reject photos that are choc full of boogers, spit up, crossed eyes, bad angles and wiggly screaming fits that are captured for all eternity on film. So I'm puttin it out there folks - here she is - my kid at her most visually unappealing.

FIRST LOVE

Let us all witness my daughters first true love......(notice the 'romantic' sepia-tone image).

Meet, Eduardo. A handsome Latin-American devil from the small town of 'Babio Einsteino Del Play-matteo'. My daughter has been captivated by his roguish primary-colored visage ever since her eyesight extended out past twelve inches. No matter what other blinking and singing plastic baby-soother was nearby, she would just stare intently and smile charmingly at Eduardo - kicking and drooling like most young girls in do in the first stages of love. He is so beloved that he travels with us now, attached to her car seat as a constant companion. I often look back at her when driving to find her staring at him as if to say, "Eduardo my love, I think mommy has stopped waaaaaay to long at this stoplight - what do you think - should I initiate a cry and let her know to get this thing moving already?" I am looking so forward to telling her prom date all about her very first crush and how proud we were as parents to know that she is diverse and open to all cultures - gotta love a man with an accent - right ladies?!

Eduardo Polkamantoya - Self Portrait 2009

OFF TO PLAY BRIDGE WITH THE LADIES

Oh man, is this picture cute or what? I would have loved it if her delicious double chin and osteoporosis-like slump were not hiding the fantastic little t-shirt design I made her but it was worth the trade-off for that expression. My friend Lauren said it best in an email I sent her where this image was attached, "With her skirt hiked up that high, she does kind of have a 'retired old lady playing shuffleboard in Florida' look about her, but regardless, that smile is so hard to resist." (I've got funny friends too - its like a club.)

THE OTHER BABY IN OUR FAMILY

We have a cat named Ari or, more formally, Ari Flufenstein (he's Jewish....we, however, are not). Before we had Rya, I had been known to pepper my conversations with wild stories about my crazy cat. He has more personality than most dogs I know and definitely most cats I've come across. As evidence of this, we caught him in the action here airing out his private bits on top of the humidifier like Marilyn Monroe on a breezy street grate. Needless to say, its been quite an adjustment for him not being the center of attention with the new 'animal' in the house. I am sure his internal dialogue is filled with such jealousy-laced statements as, "Will this THING ever SHUT UP?" or "Why is the new cat allowed to get on the table and I am not." and "Oh NO YOU DIDN'T just walk past me when I am lying on my back, all cute like with my belly exposed to be petted."

As most astute cats do, he has dedicated the first 3 years of his life to finding out the small things that REALLY piss us off and repeating those activities as some sort of retribution for the unknown wrongdoings that we have subjected him too that day (like running full speed across our heads at 4 in the morning as a nice subtle wake up call to feed him a late night snack). Rya has added a whole new dimension to this past time for him. He has now discovered that when she sleeps we really LOVE it when he gets as close to her as he can and meow/cries at the top of his tiny kitty lungs to get our attention. That might not sound too bad, some would say that it could even be coincidental actually - but I have evidence to the contrary.

The second month into our baby adventure, I had wrangled the beast into submission and placed her in her crib. We were still holding a 24 hour vigil by her bedside at this time (carried over from her breathing issues in the hospital and fueled by the neuroses of new parenthood) and I was laying on the floor of her room. After a fruitless 15 minute tirade of running feverishly through the house meowing and knocking into everything in his path - Ari decided to take a more 'personal' approach to getting my attention. He saunters into Rya's room, swishing his giant fluffy tail in my face to make sure his presence is known, walks directly up to the crib, props his paws up to peer in at her and proceeds to turn and look at me while he reaches his paw in and bats softly at her FACE. Seriously, I am not lying - this is too rich for even ME to make up! All I could do is laugh and dream up ways of sauteing him for dinner or fantasize about trading him in for a non-shedding, relaxed animal like an armadillo.

Little does he know that the days of his 'reign' over her are short and that, in time, she will do something akin to what I did to our cat Miggs when I was young - take him in the closet and proceed to dress him in a full tea party ensemble including a dress, 4 booties and a bonnet. His day will come, oh yes, and I cannot wait.