Now You Are Two

Dear Munchkin,

Today you are two years old. I'm not quite sure how that happened. One minute I'm screaming at your father to get me some f**king batteries for the f**king breast pump or the baby will starve, and the next minute we're in hysterics as you bat your eyelashes and try to con us into letting you watch yet another round of Finding Nemo. Tell me, how did we go from this...



...to this?




You amaze us every day. At night, after you've gone to sleep, your dad and I take turns reciting the new words and phrases you've learned, starting all of our sentences with, "She said the funniest freakin' thing today..." and talking in high-pitched kiddie voices. To the untrained observer, we sound like morons. But really, we just find your nonstop chatter that adorable.

You've picked up some cute catch-phrases like "Sure," "Let's go, Mommy," and "What're you doin'?" But much to our relief, you have yet to drop the f-bomb, and we're hoping we can stave that off long enough so that Christmas dinner with the grandparents won't suddenly turn awkward when you ask Mommy for more f**king juice, please.

I won't lie. For the past six months a brief period there, your tantrums made me bleed from the eyeballs and forced me to consider putting you up for auction on eBay. There were days when I felt certain that I wasn't cut out for this motherhood gig. You gave Mommy's already-fragile sanity a run for its money.

But lately? Oh, what a joy you are. You say and do new things every day, and in way, you're giving me a chance to see the world with new eyes. I could sit for hours with you watching a rabbit in our backyard munch on grass, just because the way you squeal, "Bunny's eating GRASS!" makes me wonder how I ever got along without seeing such an amazing event.

And you, my Munchkin. How did we ever get along without you? In a few months, you'll become a big sister. But you will always be our first baby, the gift that turned us into a family. We love you more every day, and there is nothing in this wide world that we wouldn't do for you.

Happy birthday, baby.

Love,
Mommy

Snuggle Bunny

We moved the Munchkin into a twin bed last week, given that we need the crib soon, plus it really doesn't fit her freakishly long extremities the way it used to.

The New Big Girl Bed has brought with it a new love of snuggling. When I say, "Let's go up to your Big Girl Bed," her eyes go wide with excitement as she asks, "I snuggle Mommy?!" as if she has been waiting her whole young life for such an opportunity. Or maybe she just hopes I'll turn into a giant Hershey bar as soon as my head hits her pillow.

Even when I know she just wants to snuggle so that she can stall the nap a few more minutes, I can't refuse her. Curse those toddlers and their infinite cuteness. One "I love you, mommy. Snuggle!" from her and I forget every god-awful public tantrum she has ever thrown. Her evil plan is totally working.

The one setback to the Big Girl Bed Transition is that without the comfort of her trusty crib, she wants to get up as soon as she wakes up, which means I've been dragging my sorry ass out of bed at 6:00AM for the past week. I haven't been sleeping well anyway, on account of the wretched pain-in-places-I-care-not-to-mention that has cropped up as I head into my third trimester.

So, yeah, all I want for Christmas is for someone to knock me unconscious for, say, 3-5 days. SO. TIRED.

(Seriously, I swear this kid might actually fall out while I'm in the grocery line. It'll make a huge mess, the cashier will have turn on her little blinking light, everyone behind me will groan and I'll have to be all, "Ah, crap, can someone grab that for me?")

But overall, I have to say the transition has gone pretty smooth. I expected a lot more crying, a lot more stress, a lot more yelling of things like, "THE CEILING FAN IS NOT A JUNGLE GYM!"

Dangit. I totally just jinxed myself, didn't I?

Wife, Mother, Brain-Dead Grad Student

Hi, Internetz.

I have just returned from a trip to my local FedEx store where I mailed my thesis to Connecticut, a week ahead of schedule.

The clerk looked at me funny when I joyfully spiked the manuscript down on her scale like a football in the endzone. And she got really uncomfortable when I jumped in the air, did a split and screamed "BOO-YAH!"

Now that I'm done, I plan to sit on my ass and do nothing for the next two months spend lots of time reconnecting with the human race and I'll be back on the ol' blog bandwagon. I have a few posts in the hopper, but right now? Right now I really can't think of anything to write. My brain is tired.

Stay tuned, though. More verbal diarrhea to come.

Overheard During Potty Time

B-Master: Munchkin, do you want to go sit on the potty?

Munchkin: Pee potty! (beat) Shirt? Shirt? Shirt?

B-Master (calling to me): Uh, does she always have to take her shirt off to use the potty?

Me: I think it's a reflex, since we always do potty before bath time.

B-Master: Huh. If she has to take her shirt off every time she goes to the bathroom, high school is gonna suck.

A Trip Down (the Stairs of) Memory Lane

Because the topic was just irresistible, I'm doing a meme for which I was not even tagged. What can I say, I'm a rebel and I'll never be any good.

(*Edit* Never mind, I'm tagged. Everything's on the up-and-up. No need to call in the law.)

The challenge, issued by the FrogMama, is to reveal seven things about yourself during your first month of motherhood. Ah, I remember it well.

Wait, no I don't. But I do remember this much:

1. I struggled so much with breastfeeding and was simultaneously so paranoid about nipple confusion that I fed the Munchkin pumped breast milk through an eye dropper for the first week and a half of her life. Hello, crazymom.

2. In order to get my Christmas shopping done, I left the Munchkin with her dad (and a five-page list of instructions) for an hour and a half and sped through the local mall as if I were the Road Runner. On cocaine. Merry Christmas, have a gift certificate.

3. Most nights, I slept on top of the covers in sweats and a sweatshirt because I figured there was no point in tucking myself in, only to get up 10 minutes later. Then I'd sweat like a pig while trying to get the Munchkin latched on, and I'd end up totally naked.

4. I punched a lot of pillows.

5. I was so clueless about what a wet diaper felt like that I once called the pediatrician because I thought the Munchkin was dehydrated. "How many wet diapers has she had in the last 24 hours?" he asked. "None," I replied. He paused and then said, "That's impossible. She wouldn't be alive right now." Duh.

6. I only dressed the Munchkin in snap-down onesies. I didn't want to put anything over her head, for fear I'd break her neck.

7. When she was three days old, the BassMaster fell down the stairs while holding the Munchkin. She was fine; he was shaking. Five minutes later, we both screamed out loud because we thought we saw a spider crawling up his t-shirt. Turned out to be a spot of sunlight reflecting off the window. Sleep deprived, much?

Ah, that was fun. Everything else from that month is kind of haze, like when you get really drunk on wine and tequila and then can only remember the events of the night in bits and pieces.

I mean, so I've heard.

I won't officially tag anyone, but leave a comment if you're gonna do it. We've all been there, so let your "crazy" hang out.

Speaking of the FrogMama, she gave me the Brilliante Weblog award, like, over a month ago and I keep forgetting to stick it up here. Sorry bout that, I suck at life. Taking care of it now, consider it done.