Enjoy the EEEEEEE

Yes, I’m talking to you.

For her entire life, Mommy (that’s me) has been so kick ass and awesome at anticipating her needs and wants that the munchkin has still yet to utter a word. She calls me “Ma ma ma ma ma ma ma” and that’s only when angry or provoked by “ma ma ma ma ma ma” (again that’s me). I know her grunt for food, her “Eeeee” because she is bored or her “Eeeee” that she is scared and about to freak out.

I’ve read conflicting child development milestone charts and I have gotten somewhat overwhelmed by the entire “Speech Therapy” introduction. However I remain positive that she will begin talking when she is ready.  She has always been on her own time-table anyway.

Reason #285 why The Munchkin is So Much Cooler than Ma ma ma ma ma (that’s me).

Come here you lil bastard!

 

 

 

Over-analyzing Again…Its a sickness.

Winning at the game of picky eating (kinda)

Yep Bringing it Back

Happy Dance

As it turns out, the Munchkin started eating some table food when SHE was good  & ready. And of all things to try first, she wanted to try my meatloaf. It’s a good thing  I can read and follow the best of meatloaf recipes.

 

So all of that time, worry, stress, blog posts here and there, hours spent on the “I-Suck-Mommy-Forum was really just a waste. “Waste” isn’t very nice so I’m gonna say that I spent all of that time…’upping my game’. That has a better ring to it than ‘irrational mommy stress’.

Speaking of irrational mommy stress/mother’s guilt…

Bath time

Once upon a time I had a water baby. That water baby grew a tiny bit and then fell in love with the Earth. The literal grass & dirt type of Earth.

And so what happened to the cute water baby? Nothing really happened. She still takes baths but hates it and will only stand in the water for a very limited amount of time. After all, that icky water stuff is wet!

What is that thing?

Stupid Sippys

I have a small collection of failed “what-the-hell-is-that-thing-and-what-do-you-want-me-to-do-with-it” sippy cups. I have explained. I have drawn pictures. I have drunk from the damn things. Nothing.

Some good advice I have received from a more experienced mom. “Fuck it. They didn’t have sippy cups when we were coming up so what did moms do then? Give her a damn cup.” I’m paraphrasing of course.

Cups are Frivolous

More To Come…

Any thoughts so far please share! I need all the help I can get. I’m serious.

 

 

 

 

Over-analyzing My Mommyhood #Firsttimemom

My biggest problem is that I over-analyze and over think everything I do (just about). Although, I am not certifiable crazy, I sometimes wonder.

*Disclaimer* – It is my opinion that there is no such thing as a “problem child”. I may have said this before but that’s only because I sincerely mean it. AND We are our own worst critics.

Sleep

From birth my daughter has slept in her crib. Around the one year mark she began exerting her independence by wanting to sleep on the floor like she does every day for nap. I have a 2-3 hour window to lift the little one to her crib without waking. After this window has elapsed she is sure to awaken and demand to be placed back on the floor.  Experience has taught me this.  Some days I sleep in my bed and some days I crash next to my daughter on the floor. Whatever works, right?

[Insert Nervous laughter Here]

Picky Eating

Instead of rehashing all my food failures with the little one, lets brag about a few of my successes.

• Cookies =(
• Puffs Cereal Things
• Nibbles on french fries {Stop Judging} =(
• Will place her tongue on some of the things that I am eating AND will even TOUCH it now.

Self Feeding

The little booger will now hold her own bottle now that I have been trying to teach her to drink from a sippy cup.

mmhmm

 

Life Continues…

Food Log

The Journey (thus far):

• Boiled Carrots – (Mashed & Puree) Fail
• Steamed Carrots – I burned the pot when I let the water boil away. Redo with proper steamer.
  Fail
  

  Likes the Ice Cream?

• Microwaved Steamed Carrots – Somewhat successful. However with every bite she took, a look of disgust crept on her face as she forced it down. I felt really bad so she ended up with Chicken & Pasta (Damn You Gerber!)
   Fail 
• Pears – (Both Ripe & Cooked) Fail
• Mashed Banana Fail
• Ice Cream! Fail
• Mashed Potatoes Fail
• Peas – Steamed & Partially Boiled* Fail
  
• Chocolate Cake – Fail
• French Fries – Yeah-I’m-Getting-Desperate Fail

There is much more to add to the list including Cheerios, infant puffs, infant yogurt melts, any juice, and even water. She eats select Gerber, cow’s milk and sometimes nibbles on Gerber’s Arrowroot Cookies [but never intentional ingested].

Moments before the lid and the impending eruption

*Partially boiled because : too much heat + too much water = boiling water up into my colander and all over the stove. Gotcha! Lesson learned.

I realize that partly to blame for my failures, if you have noticed, is brought on by my inability to prepare anything near or around a stove. We can call my condition Culinoma; side effects include: wasted groceries and a hungry cranky husband. Life would be simpler if I could just afford that personal chef I keep daydreaming about.

 

 

The things I never expected #firsttimemom

•  so much gas from such a tiny creature. Simply amazing!
• that our first discovery of our hands was truly magnificent.
• to have so many nibbled-on cookies/crackers/cheerios or chewed on wooden refrigerator magnets painted in China in all nooks and crannies of the living space
• clean diaper caches strategically located throughout the apartment because I never know when I will finally tackle the little one to change her diaper
• to constantly be thinking of someone else’s bowel movements
• to hate a piece of plastic, a.k.a. The  Binky (pacifier). When one of those things are around they are all around (my daughter currently has 3). They are constantly being kicked and stumbled on or sat on, but when I need one they are no where!
• I never expected TIME to go this FAST!

Eek! The things I worry about #msmommy

To Be Updated:

1. I tend to have a somewhat twisted sense of humor. I think pictures like this are awesome! However, as a promise to Mamaw I will try my best to refrain from embarrassing my child. Even though, the kid in this picture shouldn’t be embarrassed. He’s cool as shit.

2. My inability to teach the Peanut how to drink from a cup. I’m afraid she will be doomed to a life of straws and for this I am sorry.

3. My experience as a baby-sitter has me teaching a toddler how to say, “Fat F@%Ker”. (It was adorable! He would say, “Bat Buckaah.”) I realize now that this was maybe wrong for me to have done.

4. I am not sure if all toddlers break for the door every time it opens but I’m definitely getting a sense that she is trying to escape. I promise myself (and her) that spring is coming and she is gonna LOVE the swings when we hit the park for the first time.

Cousin Adam on swing for the first time

5. I am also starting to think that all toddlers walk around with some sort of head injury. It would explain a lot. The constant stumbling around and bumping into things. Sure they are still new to walking but when, as a society, are we going to take notice of this ever-present concussive population.

Dizzy yet?

5. Spinning. Spinning. Spinning. Okay now that I really think about this, I’m starting to wonder; Could this be a side effect to the concussions? Or is it something more like my daughter’s secret desire to be Wonder Woman and if that’s the case. Rock On! I gotta get on to making the costume. DIY Fun!!

6. The little one’s OBSESSION with anything Daniel Tiger and/or Mickey Mouse Clubhouse. Yes I admit that I let my daughter watch a little T.V. here and there. I don’t think I could live without Daniel Tiger. How would I get anything done?!

7. The Munchkin is 14 months old now and she refuses to eat anything that isn’t puree. I am in a state of constant worry that she isn’t getting her nutrition to the point where I’m starting to feel bad for taking her off of formula. However, Dr. Baby Whisperer says to keep doing what I’m doing. On a happier note she has begun to slightly munch on a specific cookie made by Gerber (bastards!) and she is touching food (but only if its dry). Whatever Works!

#lettingItGo

* I no longer worry that my walking will influence hers. Human beings are hard-wired to walk. I believe that this particular skill isn’t learned through observation. I don’t know what I was thinking other than being self-conscious.

This Book is a Thriller!

* I no longer care when Mamaw (a.k.a. The Best Mom on the Planet) refers to the Munchkin as “her baby”. She is too wonderful not to share.

Top 10 Ways I Am A “Bad” Mother

I Love this blog and this woman.

My quest to feed a picky eater

I have been wanting to make my own baby food for sometime to save money and to further my quest in getting the little one to eat something more than puree baby food. I’m using carrots because this is one of the culprit’s favorites. Here goes nothing:

My carrot mash was ready. My first attempt did not go very well. The carrots were way too lumpy for the Munchkin and she actually started to gag without having had tried any of it. I am gonna have to keep an eye out for her and her ‘acting’.

Yea she hates it.

My Second attempt yielded a much smoother texture. I added more water and blended for a few more seconds but that too was also a no go. At this point however she was over all of it, she even refused her all time favorite – sweet potato. We pressed the reset button with playtime and waited about an hour to try again with dinner. She ate 4 oz. of Gerber puree sweet potatoes.

Fail.

That’s alright. I will keep trying! She will be interested someday.

The 12 month check up

Yesterday was the kind of day that you dread and worry about but then when it finally does happen, it turns out to not be so bad.

The last doctor’s appointment for the Munchkin’s shots was rescheduled due to the fact that on that particular day last month it was a freaky minus 5 degrees outside. Being that I am from THE SOUTH I, myself, am not acclimatized for such ridiculous-ness, therefore I wasn’t going to take my daughter out in that either. The Munchkin’s father, Mr. Sexy Pants, being from Iowa, thinks I’m being cute or silly but no in my mind it was some sort of apocalyptic ice age outside. We needed to stay indoors while we had electricity. These decisions were based in survival.

So the rescheduled doctor’s appointment arrived and Lenna knew what was up the moment we hit the waiting room. Thank God I’ve been blessed with the best mom on the planet, She swooped in and saved the day as all Mamaw’s should. [Ma-maw is southern twang for grandmother]. She was there the whole time to calm and soothe the terrorized naked baby. My heart goes out to all the parents who have to take their children to the doctor’s office. But don’t worry expectant parents, it is not that bad.

Lenna’s doctor was kind and gentle with her. She remained safe and cozy in my lap as the baby doctor kneeled in front of her and offered her stethoscope, all while keeping her voice low and not making eye contact. She was a master at distraction while checking the little one’s spine, tummy and eyes. She left the exam leaving behind a quiet almost asleep child in her mother’s arms and assuring me that my little one will only have to endure three shots today.

Fast forward to the crazy eyed nurse who busts open the exam room asking to lay the child on the table and proceeds to give four shots to my little one’s perfect little legs. Both Mommy and Mamaw were constantly reassuring the Munchkin that the pain will only last a little while and we are not trying to kill her. I’m not quite sure she understood.

After the 30 seconds of terror passed; a good hug and her Binky was all she needed and she was back to normal and ready to go.

Super Baby!

The Little Boy in the Attic

Alright, the little boy doesn’t live in an attic, he lives in the apartment upstairs from me but it sounded more interesting at first.

The Little Boy in the Upstairs Apartment(meh)

His name is Owen, a precocious and beautiful three-year old that spends his days racing from one end of the apartment to the next. Thankfully his mom is a working mom and little Owen, I’m sure, is off somewhere (not over my head) running till his heart’s content.

On occasion, I may  be privy to one of his record-breaking tantrums that he likes to throw from time to time which includes all that is needed to sound like he is dying. I know it’s a tantrum because in the middle of the stomping and wailing, you can hear, “No!” from sweet, tender little Owen repeated over and over.

When I see Owens mom I say nothing. She knows that I know about her sweet Owen. She also knows that I know that I’m in for it in the near future. God help us all.

I may not be able to say a word but I can cringe a bit.

After all, karma is a bitch.