NaBloPoMo, 30

Whew! I made it. Thirty posts in thirty days. Well, thirty-one posts actually. I'm an over-achiever. Some of my posts have been less than stellar, more than some. The majority. Luckily NaBloPoMo is one of the few things in which it is all about quantity and now quality. But still, I did it. Go me. And now, for my final NaBloPoMo post, I shall continue with the shoddy quality.

Tonight we gave TD her first full on bath (as opposed to a sponge bath). She handled it pretty well with only minimal fussing. Once she was clean, we sniffed the hell out of her since the new baby smell was back. In addition to smelling her, we also rubbed her head because her hair is soft. How soft? "Damn! Feel her head. It's like cotton. Or dandelion fuzz." "I KNOW. It's just so soft. I want to cut it off and make underwear out of it." "?"

NaBloPoMo, 29

I wasn't kidding about my slow knitting, brain farting, mojo.


Two nights worth of work. Here's hoping I can do a little better tonight!

NaBoPoMo, 28

Seriously? I have re-knit the name band on TD's stocking five. Five. FIVE. 5. times. Holy crap. I'm not sure if it is a brain fart, or what, but it has taken me two nights to knit a six letter name band. I am amazed at my own idiocy.

NaBloPoMo, 27

I've been (finally) knitting TD's stocking and now it's late and I have no time to blog! Instead I am going to share pictures of my poor, put out, puppy dog, who was bedazzled by LB.

NaBloPoMo, 26

Now that LB is gaining some brain cells, I decided that we should start teaching her about Thanksgiving and how it is a day where you think about all the things for which you are thankful. Like mommies that are at your beck and call and daddies who read the horrible fish book over and over and doggies that play with you despite the repeated thunks they receive from the balls that you throw at them. Her brain cells, however, are not quite THAT high functioning. So I decided to dumb down my lesson. To wit:


Elmo Cake! When you are gaga over Elmo, you should be thankful at having a special Elmo cake made just for you for Thanksgiving. Right? I mean NOTHING says Thanksgiving like Elmo cake. Ha! I'm not sure if it was the neon red frosting, or the nightmarish thought of eating her fun furry friend, but whatever it was, she was not interested in eating Elmo. Not in the least. Which is fine, more cake for me! That Elmo is one tasty monster!

NaBloPoMo, 25

Today was the kind of day where I needed to get out of the house. I'm still trying to keep TD away from humans, or rather humans with germs, which means that she is incompatible with going out. Which is why my trip out of the house ended up at the drive-thru Starbucks. 20.5 miles away. Yes, I drove 41 miles for a latte. It was a good latte. But still ... forty-one miles. Wow.

In addition to being crazy-driving-for-a-latte lady, I'm also crazy-buying-a-turkey-and-the-rest-of-the-brouhaha-that-goes-with-a-Thanksgiving-meal lady. Yes, we are doing a real dinner despite the fact that we are dirty, dirty mouse ridden people, who have a new baby, a small kitchen, and no time. I just typo'd moose with mouse, which would be less dirty and more amusing. Though harder to avoid. In any event, I decided to hoop it up, step outside of the box, and am making an Elmo cake for one of our desert items. Basically LB will have something to be thankful for on Thanksgiving. It is baking as we speak. We'll see how it turns out.

NaBloPoMo, 24

Today would have been my father's eightieth birthday. Given that I'm only ("only" snort, snort) thirty-four, that seems downright archaic, and surreal, to me. Anywho.

We've been having a bit of a mouse problem here at Casa da SouthPark. People that know me in real life, know that I don't say that lightly. Considering I am somewhat of a clean freak and I hate nature, mice make me want to scream and admitting we have a problem ... well, yuck. We're dirt bags. Who knew? It started the night TD was born and our dear sweet friend was watching LB. She put LB to bed and plunked down on the couch to veg with some bad t.v. Only once she plunked, Mickey appeared. Thanks for watching our kid. We're dirty. Anyway, a few days later, Boo found Mickey, bludgeoned him to death, and considered it a done deal. Unfortunately Mickey had friends, and now they want to torment us, or rather me. In the middle of the night. When I am half-asleep, defenseless and feeding TD. We've bought traps, but the fuckers laugh at our traps. So I'm thinking we need to rent a cat. I don't want to own a cat. I am a one cat human, and since Cat died, I'm done. But renting a cat, that seems like a good idea. And, if that doesn't work, well, I guess we'll move.

NaBloPoMo, 23

I'm typing this with a munchkin asleep on my chest. Normally I'd put her down and let her nap in her crib or bassinet, but today I need to feel her warm little body mushed up against me. We had our two week check up and though she is fine, it turns out that she broke her collar bone during delivery. Though "common" with babies who get stuck, it also happens with babies who deliver rapidly. No one caught it when she was first born, and so it healed, or is healing, in a way that TD now has a bump on her collar bone where the bones knit together a smidge unevenly. When the pediatrician said this, I valiantly managed to keep my shit together. In fact, I very calmly said, "Wow, I'm freaking out right now." I love my pediatrician and she greeted this statement with, "Don't freak out. She is great." The pediatrician went through all sorts of range of motion things and strength and stretching things and determined that TD does everything evenly. She then got her partner, another pediatrician (obviously) to check TD out and he did a bunch of exam things and also thought she did everything evenly. Which means that she is not handicapped. But still, my baby broke her collar bone. And she has an umbilical hernia. It was not what you would call a gold star visit.

Also not gold star worthy, semi-homemade Sandra Lee's Thanksgiving meal, or rather the side dishes. They look so repugnant that I am amazed that the Food Network let her make them. And yes, I realize that is totally bitchy and catty, and I realize that it might be me being bitchy and catty because I am upset about poor little Deuce. Transference anyone?

NaBloPoMo, 22

Christ on a cracker I'm cutting it close, it is almost tomorrow and I'm just now blogging! But blogging I am. If I wasn't on the verge of going to bed, I might make a better effort, but my pillow is calling.

NaBloPoMo, 21

In a few hours I am going to oogle an under-aged boy. Maybe I shouldn't announce that on the internet ... but then again, impure thoughts, in and of themselves, aren't criminal, right? Anyway, what I am saying is that I'm going to see New Moon. Me, and several of my nearing middle-aged friends.

NaBloPoMo, 20

Seriously dudes, I am the tiredest person ever. Due to a series of unfortunate encounters with other people's bodily fluids, I found myself naked and in need of clothes at three different times between the hours of 1:00 a.m. and 6:00 a.m. As if that wasn't pathetic enough, these encounters culminated with puke in my hair and the need for a shower when it was still dark out. You know you are tired when a shower does not wake you up in the least. Surprisingly, this morning was atypical and not a regular occurrence in my life. Which could be why I am wrecked. I had visions of starting on TD's Christmas stocking during nap time today. But instead I am eeking out a blog post and then falling asleep face first on the floor. The couch is just too far. And the bed? Separated by two sets of stairs.


I am partially responsible for my own tiredness as I stayed up later than I should have making a Caramel Brulee Cheesecake. It is pretty damn good so I am not sure, even knowing what lie ahead, that I would have skipped the baking and gone straight to bed. I do know I'm not skipping the eating before I take a nap!

NaBloPoMo, 19

I'm not sure if it is unfortunate or fortunate, but I did managed to leave the house last night, but I did not manage to do anything asinine enough to be blogable. Considering that I forget my name half the time, the fact that I left the house and returned to it a few hours later, all in one piece, seems like a win-win.

Speaking of win-win, can we talk turkey? For the record, turkey has nothing to do with win-win. That was my attempt at a seamless transition. And though it might have worked, it make no sense. Moving on. At my husband's urging, I (probably) will not be cooking a turkey this year. Instead, I plan to buy a pre-made turkey. Anyone ever purchased a pre-made turkey and if so, thoughts? I am leaning toward the Honey Baked Ham Company as it seems to be reasonably priced (unlike Williams-Sonoma ... deep-fried turkey teasing bastards!) and I have heard of it which implies that the food does not suck. Well, not really, I have heard of many places with sucktastic food. But I don't recall hearing bad things, so that's good. Sort of.


Here is a random picture of TD. She is not a turkey, and though she has the skinniest little chicken legs, she will not be gnawed on (by anyone other than me) for Thanksgiving.

Anywho, the upside of not cooking a turkey is that I will have more free time on Thanksgiving. Normally that might mean baby time, but BiL5 will be here, as will a niece, so I am thinking knitting time ... we shall see.

NaBloPoMo, 18

18 Things I Wish I Did Today But Didn't
Another list, because it is the eighteenth day of NaBloPoMo and I still have nothing interesting and I could type this on my phone while I was pumping.

1. Hang curtains, any curtains, even toilet paper curtains, in master bedroom.
2. Clean the bathroom floors.
3. Make a Goodwill donation run.
4. Starbucks ... going through Pumpkin Spice Latte withdrawal is ugly.
5. Organize TD's room (I did sort of start on this but then there was hunger, poop, and a need for attention so I'm not even halfway done and it stays on the list).
6. Cure LB's cold - granted this is an impossible thing to do, but still.
7. Make dinner that consists of real food, not prepackaged microwave foods or fruit.
8. Make extra dinners and freeze them, 'cause if I'm gonna cook, I might as well cook.
9. Go for a walk - I did ponder this but decided it was too chilly for TD. Also, I'm not sure where my bra is.
10. Do my laundry. This might have unearthed a bra.
11. Paint my toenails. They look sketchy.
12. Paint my fingernails. They look plain.
13. Nap. Actually this can be replaced with "Sort out misc. papers in office" as I did doze off for thirty minutes.
14. Swap out LB's toys for the ones in the basement.
15. Shave my legs. I did get a quicky quick shower so I shouldn't complain.
16. Wax my eyebrows, or rather eyebrow. I need to make the one furry one into two.
17. Clean the hardwood floors. I'm thinking we need a steam mop. Or, rather this is my excuse for not having done them.
18. Fix LB's blackout shade. I broke it and kind of rigged it which means it can't open.

In other news, I am hoping to leave the house tonight for a short stint of knitting at Starbucks (hello lover, I mean latte). Maybe something will happen which will be blogworthy and I can get past the lists ...

NaBloPoMo, 17

On this seventeenth day of NaBloPoMo, I shall list seventeen things that I enjoy eating or drinking from outside establishments (in other words, the well has run dry of blogging ideas) (also, the word establishment makes me think of a titty bar, and, for the record, those are NOT the types of places where I will consume either food or beverage. I am using establishment to refer to places not my home. Because you might think my home is a titty bar? I make no sense. Moving on).

1. Outback Steakhouse's Outback Special
2. Starbucks' pumpkin spice latte
3. Mom & Dad's stuffed eggplant
4. Dairy Queen's Brownie Batter Blizzard
5. Panera's breast cancer bagel
6. McDonald's french fries
7. Cheesecake Factory's ranch salad dressing
8. Bertucci's lestina pizza
9. Taco Bell's taco salad
10. Dunkin Donut's iced coconut coffee
11. Outback's coconut shrimp
12. Publix' subs
13. Melting Pot's fried broccoli
14. Puerto Vallarta's fajita salad
15. Harvest Cafe's coconut muffin
16. Silver Slipper's kumbak dressing
17. Red Robin's teriyaki chicken burger

NaBloPoMo, 16

Despite the fact that my daughter was a full-term, full-sized baby, she received handknits from the nursery.


When it was time to leave I tried to give them back but was told we got to keep them. Which I thought this was quite neat as I thought handknits donated to hospital maternity wards were for NICU babies only.

NaBloPoMo, 15

It's amazing what one day can do to improve your disposition. In other words, I have emerged from my hormonal pity-party and am now among the land of the living, or at least the land of those who wash dishes. Because nothing says normalcy like washing dishes. Oddly enough, last night was the least amount of sleep I have gotten in the past week as my boobs mysteriously dried up and TD was pissed and nursed for four hours straight. Which in addition to being sleep deprived, means my boobs are sore (and that is an understatement so understated that I can't think of anything dramatic enough to illustrate my point other than ow. Ow. OW.). So all things considered, I should be even more pathetic than I was yesterday. But I'm not. Go figure. Instead I am chipper and ready to share a funny anecdote. If only I had one. Which I don't. But I do have something. A weird food. Perhaps one of the weirder foods I have ever stumbled upon. To wit:


Yes, that's right, organic pancake batter (not weird). In a can (weird). We saw it and knew we had to get it because really, how could you pass it up. Should you decide you can't live a complete life without trying pancake batter from a can, then I direct you to the cans of refrigerated whip cream. Nestled amongst the whip cream you'll find this little gem, just waiting to be devoured. And, for what it's worth, I did make one pancake and it was okay. I'm not sure what I was expecting, but what I got wasn't too terribly special.

NaBloPoMo, 14

This is another one of those posts where I am gonna whine and indulge in hormonal self-pity balderdash, so if you are not currently sitting in a dark room, chain smoking Marlboro Reds and listening to The Cure, you probably are going to be annoyed and have the urge to smack me and utter "Snap out of it!" Which is fine. You can do that tomorrow. But for now, I'm suggesting you take your perky happy self elsewhere.

I've heard over and over that bringing a new baby into the the mix will be "trying" or "hard" but that it gets easier. And I know that I can be a wuss. So I don't know if I am being a wuss, or if people aren't telling the truth, or I am just totally fucking lucky. But bringing a new baby home is like jumping into a volcano. Of acid. With open wounds. Naked. While being bombarded with country music. In other words, from this little portion of the universe, parenting two sucks right now. Surprisingly, it isn't TD that I am struggling with, oh no, she is easy peasy and the antithesis of LB at her age. In fact, she is napping. On her own. And during this nap I have showered, shaved (and what does it say that it has been so long since I shaved that my razor was RUSTY when I went to use it - which, incidentally I did, because my tetanus is up-to-date and I am a risk taker), cleaned out my maternity clothes, and started this blog post. Good baby, no?

It, life, the here and now, it sucks because LB thinks I am the anti-Christ and would rather hit me, throw food at me, kick me, or tell me to go fuck myself (in toddler speak, she lacks my refined vocabulary). I have no concern that I am ruining her life. Instead, I feel as if I am ruining our relationship. And just typing that makes me cry and also take a step back and say, Really Drama Queen? And yes, Inner Monologue, really, so shut it. In the last few weeks of my pregnancy LB was testing me. Asserting her independence and will of iron. So it is no surprise that she is continuing to do that now. But it still hurts. It hurts when she won't hug me or kiss or cuddle with me. It hurts when sees me coming and runs the other way. It hurts that she so totally tunes me out that my voice is silent to her. It hurts when I try to feed her and she would rather shake her head violently, throwing everything to the floor and kicking so hard she sends her highchair across the room. It hurts that starving is more appealing that being with me. It hurts when I grab her, go for a hug or cuddle and hold on as hard as I can, despite the fact that it feels like my retarded boobs are being sheered with glass, and she writhes away from me with all of her strength. It hurts when the one second of the day that she wants to relent and give in and acknowledge me is when I am nursing her sister and have to distance us because LB has a cold and I don't want TD to catch it. And it makes me angry. With her and with myself. It makes me seethe because I am trying. I am. I am trying everything I (and the internet, and the random people I've asked for insight) can think of. And yet. And yet I find myself yelling at her, pleading with her, walking away from her with the tears streaming down my face because I am so frustrated and I know I am making the situation worse. I want to cuddle with her and I want to giggle with her and I want her to know that I absolutely love and adore her with every fiber of my being but I don't know how to bridge the chasm that seems to be in the way. I have to say, that right now, right now parenting two sucks. It is heart breaking and draining and gives you puffy eyes.

(ETA: I realize that with all of my woe-is-me, it might sound like I am alone here on Mt. Pity Party. And I am totally not. My husband is being awesome and doing everything he can to make things better. From cooking and cleaning and fetching me water and cookies to taking TD in another room to give LB and me alone time, or rather LB time to practice her throwing accuracy. Unfortunately all of his helpful awesomeness does not include mind control over LB.)

NaBloPoMo, 13

Friday the 13th?!? Spooky. Or not.

I started a new knitting project. While I was in labor. I haven't gotten far, but still, it's progress.


I did have some technical difficulties as the anesthesiologist who put in my epidural moved it and dropped five or so stitches and then it got caught on my purse and the yarn tore. But, a little fiddling here and a spit join there and I am back in business. Well, until TD's stocking kit arrives. I did order another one and paid for it, and am waiting for it to ship.

NaBloPoMo, 12

(Whoops! I did type this long and detailed post yesterday and then hit "save now" instead of "publish post." Not sure if this means I am DQd for NaBloPoMo or not, but I am leaving the original date stamp. So there.)

Today we had our first pediatrician appointment for The Deuce (TD ... I guess it is better than TB). Anyway, it was a totally different experience since my child was not starving and dehydrated. Granted she isn't a plump porker, but she's okay. Overall the experience was much easier this go around, though we still ended up with a referral to the lactation consultant. I think, after 30+ years, my boobs have comfortably settled into the fun bag category and don't want to move over into the working horse category. We'll see how it plays out, but if it doesn't work, that is okay, I have a fabulous bottle of Riesling with my name on it.

NaBloPoMo, 11

Night two of breastfeeding and I've already been reduced to tears ... um, crap?!?

I think I'll go with a "Happy Veteran's Day" and bury my head back in my pillow now.