Private Parts

Hi Friends,

So its been a pretty crazy few months.  I don’t remember pregnancy being like this last time.  Apparently I’ve aged a lot in the last two years because growing a human is way more exhausting than I remember; these days I have a difficult time summoning up the strength to complete my daily duties much less blog.  Maybe when this mythical nesting kicks in I will dish on all the juicy details of our little O’s gestation, but for now suffice it to say that though it has been at times a dramatic pregnancy, we are very grateful to have a healthy baby girl growing steadily (and wiggling constantly) in my belly.  And we are equally grateful to have another little girl, outside my belly, who gets sassier and more lovely each and every day!  In fact, it was a another bathing adventure that inspired me to break my blog silence. Again. Strange, hunh?

So I recently read an article on how to help keep your children safe from sexual predators.  One of the suggestions was to talk to them at bath time about private parts and who is allowed access to said parts.  After careful consideration, I decided Weezy was ready for a conversation regarding this issue.  Plus, she has recently become extremely interested in body parts, especially my gigantic belly and chi chis, (I know, I should not be surprised.) so I figured lets kill two birds with one stone: have a chat, protect her from perverts, get her to quit honking my nips.  Win-win!  Needless to say our conversation did not go as planned, and the occasional honk-honk may be the least of our problems.

I say: “Time to wash your heinie!”

Eloise responds: “Heinie!”

I continue: “You know, your heinie, and pachina, and chi-chis are private parts.”

Eloise interrupts: “Two chi-chis! One, two!  (points to my chi-chis) Eh-weese chi-chi! One, two! (points to her chi-chis)”

I refuse to be distracted by her obviously gifted counting skills and re-route the conversation: “That’s right!  You have two chi-chi’s and I have two chi-chis.  But no one should touch your chi-chis or my chi-chis except for ourselves,”  (oh crap!  Brakes had accidently started the whole nipple honking thing when Weezy caught her daddy copping a feel!  Note to self: tell Brakes to keep his damn paws off of me.  Well that is kind of confusing; I don’t want her to think her dad is some sort of perv  or that flirtation between husband and wife is shameful (I’d recently read an article about how to establish healthy first impressions of sex in your children… I obviously read too many articles. ) Better switch gears:  “Except for Daddy.  Daddy can sometimes touch Mommy’s chi-chis. “ (Crap again!  How awkward is that? And what about Baby O?!  Come April, I am going to have another little human positively manhandling the ladies 90% of my waking hours.  Talk about mixed messages!  Why did I ever start talking about chi-chis!  Agh!)  Enough about chi-chis.  Lets talk about pachinas.

Eloise gives me a confused look.

I say:  “Your pachina and heinie are private parts too.  That means nobody can touch them except for Mommy, Daddy, and Nicole,” (her day-care teacher).

Eloise brightly responds:  “Mommy, Daddy, Cole!”

I am relieved that this part of the discussion seems to be going well: “That’s right!  Only Mommy, Daddy, and Nicole can touch your private parts.”

Eloise, after a thoughtful pause during which I am impressed because she really seems to understand what I am telling her, she says: “ Mommy, Daddy, Cole, and Bubba” (her best-friend at school).

I think: “Did I just hear that right?!”  I try again:  “No Weezy, only Mommy, Daddy, and Nicole can touch your private parts.”

Weezy petulantly sticks out her lower lips and replies in a stern voice: “And Bubba!”

“Not Bubba!  Just Mommy Daddy, and Nicole!”

“Mommy, Daddy, Cole, and Bubba!”  Then she stomps her foot. 

I gaze at the slippery shower floor and my little daughter’s stubborn face and I decide to cut my losses.  Maybe bath time is not a great opportunity to start a discussion about private parts.  And should I be worried that my not-yet two year old daughter just informed me that she will give an all access pass to Bubba at preschool?  Yikes! What is she going to be like at 16?!

No wonder I am tired. 

Spring Has Sprung and Weezy’s One!

On thee first day of spring,  our  sweet Weezy was born so the theme for her first birthday seemed obvious!  Bugs, gardens, flowers, and seeds!  All things spring!

All decor items are from the dollar store.  I bought plastic planters and toy gardening equipment for the food and I hot glued bugs and fake flowers to spring them up a bit.  I also bought pinwheels and cloth insect finger puppets from IKEA and I scattered them around the room in vases and hidden on the shelves.  The favors were plastic bug catchers with a net and tong, and on the inside was an insect finger puppet.  For the adults we had a salad buffet with several different types of salad.  A few included: “Seed Salad” (Bean salad) “Chicken and Leaves” (Chinese Chicken Salad from Costco).  We also served various kid friendly options like slices of cheese cut into flower and butterfly shapes with a cookie cutter.  Veggie “Sticks” chips and pretzel “Twigs”.  I also found adorable build-a-bug fruit drops that were a hit with the older kids.  I ordered cupcakes from Costco.  They were huge but quite good!  I did customize them a bit with gummy worms, cookie crumbs, and Mike&Ike candy in flower designs.  I totally stole the caterpillar balloon bug idea from my friend, Michelle, who made one for her daughter’s caterpillar themed birthday the week before.  I thought she was completely brilliant!

 

Lets talk wardrobe!  Michelle generously offered to loan me Maddy’s perfect buggy dress (complete with a cardigan, no less!) but I forgot to reply with a grateful yes in time to make arrangements to pop over and grab it, so instead, the night before the party I whipped up this bedazzled onesie!  Snail + Butterfly= Rhinstone-erific fun!

(Sorry, so dirty.  Did not think to take pics before cake fest!)

  

 

Me and the Unc accidently displaying the caterpillar banner I had Eloise’s classmates help me make at her school party.  Liquid watercolor on coffee-filters make beautiful party decor!  Plus it was a fun activity to do with a group of toddlers!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

For entertainment, I just put a bunch of Weezy’s toys in the living room and got a baby pool and some carnival balls at Target.  I also threw some of my favorite IKEA bugs in the ball pit.  The kids had a fun time finding them!

It was a really fun celebration befitting of the special little bug in our life!  However, next year we may go to Chuckie Cheese (Kidding.  Kind of. ) :)

Last Year’s Lessons

On March 20th my little girl turned one years old!  I’ve spent the weeks surrounding her big day pondering (when I wasn’t hot gluing plastic bugs onto planter boxes- more on that later) all that I have learned in the last year and comparing my old self to my new self- because make no mistake about it- in many ways I am an entirely different person. 

Here is an abbreviated list of lessons learned in the last 12 months:

1. I think I finally get physics.  7 pounds, 2 ounces can emerge from a small crevices given enough velocity. (You knew I wouldn't miss the chance to talk about my pachina- also more on that later ;)
2. Sleep is the magic elixir that makes me smarter, kinder, prettier, and a whole hell of a lot happier. 
3. Who knew Dads could be this sexy?
4. Your marriage will change when you bring another person into your family; it doesn't mean you’re weak or your marriage is weak, or that you are a bad wife, or you have a shitty husband.  It just means that you, the collective you, husband and wife, are re-learning how to be together and adjusting to the added changes and responsibilities.  It will take awhile to find your footing, but with patience, communication, motivation, and understanding, your marriage will become stronger than it ever was before.  Also, a lot of sex certainly helps.
5. Though I still cannot be bound, sturdier undergarments are going to be necessary until my little shark is weaned.
6. Renting is under-rated.  Just kidding.  Just kidding on the just kidding.
7. Baby crap will take over your house.  There is no getting around it, accept it and buy cute storage containment units.  (Non-parents: don’t be alarmed.  By baby crap, I mean gear- not actual poo.  We do not store poo in attractive baskets and such.  Most of the time anyways.)
8. You do not need 1/2 the baby crap you buy.  Eloise’s favorite birthday present was the silver ribbon that came on her add-a-pearl necklace from Auntie Bun (so cute!), and she lives in zip-up footie jams and she ignores her fancy light-up walker, preferring to push a little foot-ottoman around the house.  Baby gates and brown shirt are pretty much all she (we) requires!
9. Motherhood and selflessness do not need to go hand-in-hand.  When a new baby enters your world, you have no choice but to put your own wants and desires on the back burner.  But thankfully for me, I learned relatively quickly that to be the mom that Eloise deserved and to be the wife that Brakes deserved, I had to have the life that I deserved.  In the last year, I remembered that I love to swim, sew, work, write, wear fancy make-up, have fancy hair, and take long and luxurious bubble baths.  Giving up those things does not make me a better mother; taking the time, spending the money, doing whatever I have to do to feel human and find definition outside of my familial roles, is what makes me a better mother.  Last year Gas defined herself almost exclusively by the roles she played for other people, this year Gas (apparently talks in the third person and) is so much more than what she does.  As a result, I am a much, much stronger and more powerful woman than I ever thought I could be.
10. Hormones are like heroin.  (I am guessing- no actual experience with heroin. Ick.)  Do not underestimate their power.
11. Memories of the pain DO NOT fade, but your daughter’s dazzling blue eyes and the sound of her giggle certainly make you feel like it was worth it.
12. Brakes and I created a sweet, sassy, brave, fiery, smart, loving, gorgeous, funny, ballsy, baby girl.  My love for her is fierce and voracious.  I could never kiss her, hug her, squeeze, and smell her enough.  She is joy incarnate and I would never, never have fathomed that I could be this lucky.

Celebrity Lookalikes!

The other day a soon-to-be father asked me what it is like to be a dad.  I immediately knew how to answer. Remember the Mogwais? Those cute little fury creatures from the movie Gremlins.  

Well, just like the movie we were blessed with our very own Gizmo 11 months ago. Isn’t she cute?

When we brought her home we knew the rules were simple: Don’t let her stay up past midnight and whatever you do DON’T GET HER WET!

But the other day she sprinted for the sink and next thing we knew….

She was in the kitchen. Gremlins can be extremely reckless and they are really messy eaters.

I summed up my conversation with my friend with this sage advice:  You have two jobs as a parent:

Keep them out of trouble and prevent spawning at all costs. 

Gremlins are a lot of work!  Its a good thing it’s 11:45 PM and Gizmo is finally in bed!

Rainy Maladies

I woke up one day last week to a sound that leaves many a mom of newly mobile babies quaking in fear: thunder!  Like much of the west coast, the Bay Area has been inundated with storms and showers for the last two weeks.  We’ve had nary a day of sunshine and poor Weezy hasn’t been to the park in what seems like eons!  For a kiddo who likes to get out and about (and a mom who likes her kiddo to get out and about) the hassle of a rainy day makes us more than a bit blue.  It also makes us more than a bit bored. 

In my pre-baby life I would relish a rainy day and use it as an excuse to stay in my jammies, sipping spiked tea, and watching reality TV reading a good book, all day long.   But life with baby does not exactly lend itself to blissfully buzzed blasé afternoons, and besides it would be inappropriate to ignore the baby and drink read the day away, so I had to get creative.  By 11:00 AM we had banged pots and pans together.  Pulled at Tess’s ears.  Emptied and reloaded Daddy’s sock drawer.  Twice.  Sang silly songs in the shower.  And practiced crawling up and down the stairs.  I was exhausted and ready for a nap but Eloise seemed to be invigorated by the inclement weather and she adamantly refused to sleep.  By noon I was desperate enough to go digging around in the catacombs, combing through all of my old teaching materials, looking for an infant-appropriate diversion.  When my eyes alighted on the gross-motor tunnel, I knew I had struck gold! 

Eloise crawled, dragged, and peak-a-booed the afternoon away until finally her dad came home and mama got a cocktail break!  Before I passed out (from exhaustion, people!  What do you take me for!?) I managed to snap a few cute shots!

It is a good thing she is so freaking adorable because she sure is a handful!

 

Gratuitous Cuteness

I hate to brag (sort of) but my kid really is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.

 

Fish Face, Fairy Face, and Kissy Face

Weezy’s First Social Disease

As new parents Brakes and I have enjoyed all of the “firsts” Miss Eloise has graced us with thus far;   her first poo after she “dumped” her first BF Billi Rubin (that's a little gauche jaundice humor for you!  And we took a picture.  Is that weird?) immediately comes to mind.

However there are a couple of firsts I have been dreading, most especially her first fever.  I’ve marveled at what a great job I’ve done keeping her healthy (despite encouraging allowing her to eat Puffs off the floor) for the last 9 months.  In fact she had never even run a fever, until the Sunday after we moved. 

For the last several days, during the craziness of moving, I had noticed that she felt a freckle warm.  I kept pulling out the handy-dandy temporal lobe thermometer and zapping her forehead.  It showed high 98 to 99 each time.  But so did everybody else.  (I was zapping people like crazy.  Multiple data points, you know.)  I decided she was a bit warm but not in fever territory yet.  Well, by Sunday, her eyes looked funny and her mouth was so hot when she nursed that I decided it was time to pull out the big guns; we went rectal, people.  Brakes held her cute little butt-cheeks apart (baby got back!)  (Was that inappropriate?  Sorry.) and I gently inserted the thermometer.  She froze and looked horrified.  I also looked horrified as I watched the numbers quickly climb to over 102 before the beep.  My baby had a fever! 

After 24 hours of Tylenol the fever was gone and we felt relief.  That was not so bad; we had navigated her first illness with aplomb.  In fact, Brakes and I were busy congratulating ourselves on our extraordinary parenting skills when I happened to glance down at Weezy’s thumb cramming Puffs into her mouth as fast as it could folded nicely in her lap.  It was sporting an angry, red blister.  I quickly gave her a closer look and saw that her face, mostly around her mouth and nostrils, also had a scabby, blistery rash.   How had we missed the rash on her face, you ask?  As I already explained, we were busy stroking each other’s egos and could not be bothered with close examination of our daughter’s, up until then, flawless complexion.  Besides, it blended in with all of the Puff crumbs. 

Within minutes I had scooped up my baby and was clutching her to my bosom while Brakes’ googled baby rashes.  (Jenny McCarthy isn’t the only one who can study medicine at Google University.)  Within minutes we had made a scientific diagnosis: Hand, Foot, and Mouth Disease.  It is one of those childhood illnesses that everybody gets eventually.  It is spread through exchanging body fluids with an infected individual.  (Not by eating Puffs off the floor, the doctor assured me.)    It did not appear to be uncomfortable, affect her appetite, her sleep, or her mood.  It basically just compromised her beauty for a few days.  Within a week the blisters were all gone and she is back to her usual gorgeous self.  So all in all, Weezy’s first social disease wasn’t that emotionally wrenching.  We all appear to have recovered unscathed.  Maybe Brakes and I aren’t such terrible parents after all?

  (Note:  My child is now fully recovered.  You should not run kicking and screaming from us if you see us walking down the street.  And we are available for play dates.  Especially if there is wine. And puffs.)

I’ve Created a Monster!

Who notices something strange about this picture? Is it that obvious?

My daughter is apparently some kind of pervert. For months now she has been doing what we affectionately call her, “Shark Face.” She lunges aggressively towards my chi-chis, snapping her little jaws. Sometimes she couples this with a grunt, groan, or snarl for effect. (Did I mention she has 2.5 teeth now? I am a saint.)

Recently she has taken to just casually keeping her hand within reach of her favorite chi-chi, pretty much at all times, as depicted in the picture to your left. (Do you see the hidden shame in my eyes as I bravely try to laugh it off? What about her? Please note the devil-may-care expression punctuating her smirk. She looks so entitled.)

Now I have dealt with all of her manhandling and snarling pretty well. I’ve never flicked her cheek (not even with the biting incident of ‘’09), and I’ve casually redirected her meaty paws when they wander wayward at inappropriate times. But the other night at Trader Joe’s I may have reached my limit.

We were on our way to a birthday party for the Unc and Nana Eileen called and asked us to stop and get a little shaved parmesan (she’d made marinara from scratch and it was delish!). Only needing the one item, I didn't bother with a shopping cart or a baby carrier, I just propped Miss Weezy on my hip and we hauled fanny to the check out.

The cashier (male, barely post-adolescent, with accompanying patchy goatee, and an unfortunate predilection for blushing) had just asked for my ID (I may have also grabbed a bottle of wine, which I desperately hankered for a gulp of a few moments later) when Eloise reached across my chest, clasped the edge of my cotton v-neck and bra and used her weight to heft the material aside. Out popped my big boob, practically landing on the check-writing shelf. She lunged after it, mouth gaping, already making slurping noises in anticipation, and attempted to latch on. I froze in horror as the check-out boy stared with eyes like saucers, his face and neck turning a violent shade of purple. Once I regained my composure I jerked Eloise off, ignored her protests, blindly signed the credit-card slip, and practically ran out of the store.

What did I learn from this experience? Eloise does not respect social (or my personal) boundaries and on-demand-nursing is dangerously overrated.

Twins.

We’re totally best friends.  We dress alike, wear matching pony-tails,  and do everything together. 

 

I may be in danger of becoming the mom in the Forever 21 dress, chaperoning my besties daughter’s high school dance.   Somebody stop me when she is old enough to realize how uncool it is to dress like your mom.

A Hoot of a Halloween

On this spooky night Brakes and I happened upon a very rare breed of baby owl. 

We think we’ll keep her!

  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Happy Halloween!

She’s a Carbaholic

She did not dig avocado but she loves her some sweet-potatoes!