Ode to a friend. Soon to be welcomed to the 'Mommy Club.'

A good friend of mine recently told me she was pregnant and due this fall. I was ecstatic, over the moon, and more than a little surprised! I didn't think that she wanted children soon, and I had refrained from talking about my little one too much because I thought that it would be 'baby' overload for her. (her sister and sister-in-law had new babies as well). I wonder now if she thought that our conversations, after my daughter was born, were maybe a little odd. Odd because I remember consciously trying to monitor the amount of times that I spoke about my little monkey, which may have made me sound like a complete scatterbrain. It is sooooo difficult not to talk about my daughter every second of the day (especially when I'm not with her). Unfortunately, most conversations usually ended up with me, well, discussing my daughters end, or what ended up getting puked up. Needless to say, once my friend told me she was pregnant, the floodgates were released and I found myself talking a mile a minute about everything to do with pregnancy and the months thereafter. Poor girl. I forgot that she was just entering her second trimester and everyday at that point feels like you've run a marathon. More than one yawn escaped her mouth as I, oh so expert mommy (hahahahahaha), talked her ear off.

I've since thought about all of the practical advice that I'd like to give you, my dear friend, but then I remembered just how annoying said advice can be. You are now entering a time in your life when unsolicited advice is in your face at every corner (especially every corner of the grocery aisle where little old biddies lurk, waiting to pounce on unsuspecting first time moms). Instead, I'm just going to share a few, umm, tidbits (yeah, I like that word), about things that annoyed me when I was pregnant, and how I dealt with them. (in some cases how I WISHED I'd dealt with them.)

• Once your baby bump 'pops,' (initially you'll be thrilled - people will finally realize that you're preggers, and not just dipping into the ice cream every night...but months later when your bump threatens to tip you over, you'll reminisce about the days when you didn't need a wheelbarrow to move around), people will inevitably ask you when you're due. You can respond in various ways: a) give the actual date, b) play dumb and respond 'due for what?' Then wait for look of confusion on the 'askee's' face, especially if you're due the following week. One small problem with giving your actual due date, is that people may respond with: 'are you sure? (no, I'm lying) You look like you're due sooner...are you sure it's not twins??? Unfortunately, I was often asked this. I'd always respond by telling the insensitive jerk that I had a small upper body, which pushed my baby belly out farther in order to give the baby more wiggle room. I may have been talking out of my ass....which leads me to the next tidbit....
• Your ass. This is a topic that I actually wish I had been given advice about. Sadly, it's still taboo to talk about. Except for me. Ass ass ass. Okay, I got that out of my system. I'll keep it brief. You will get hemorrhoids. You may think you won't, but you will. Of all the things that I had the most trouble with after my large child was born, it was this. Take the cream that hospital gives you - it will tide you over. As will the suppositories. Then promptly call your doctor and ask for the heavy duty, no messing around, cure all pains, hemorrhoid cream. It would have been an even longer three months post-partum if not for this cream. Also. my mom was right when she said they NEVER go away. Once you've got them, you're stuck with them.
  
• One of the bits of advice that I hated more than anything when I was pregnant, was "catch up on your sleep now, while you still can." What a bunch of crap. First, like you can bank sleep (sleep experts advise you to wake up at the same time SEVEN days a week, because you can't actually catch up on sleep by sleeping in on the weekend...); and second, once you enter your third trimester, you'll be introduced to the zombie club. (membership in this club is a prerequisite for full membership in the Mommy Club). During the last couple of months of my pregnancy, I woke up every couple of hours (at least once to go to the bathroom), and usually got up for good at about 5:00 am. I could not get comfortable. You are told to sleep on your left side during pregnancy (something to do with arteries and good circulation), but every time I did, my hips burned like someone was jabbing hot pokers into them. If this happens to you, and you're in a hurry to roll over, DON'T! Slowly ease onto your other side, otherwise it will feel like someone ripped out your lower abdominal muscles. An active baby in your belly may also wake you up (or your hubby's hand on your belly will). I think all of the disrupted sleep is mother nature's way of training you for the upcoming months with your newborn. Yes, mother nature IS a sick bitch....
• Eat anything you want (except spicy food - so not your friend during pregnancy). Yes, this is contrary to what the 'pros' tell you, but really, it is the only time in your life that it is okay to be more than a little chubby.
  
• If you can afford it, go on a lot of dates with your hubby. Restaurant and movie dates will be hard to come by once your mini-squid is in the picture.

After your baby is born, the advice is ceaseless and hard to hide from. It WILL make you want to scream. If it sounds good, use it, if it makes you cringe, toss it. People who give it typically have the best intentions, but I think maybe they've suffered from amnesia (guilty), and forget what it can be like as a first-time parent. You want to do everything yourself, and you know better than everyone else. This is true, but only to a point. You will know your baby's mannerisms better than everyone else, but not necessarily HOW to handle them. Change a diaper? Easy peasy. What to do the first time your baby screams for hours on end, and you've no bloody idea what else to try? Have your hubby pick up the phone and call a fellow mommy. Your hubby needs to make the call because you'll be crying as hard as the baby. Your fellow mommy may have a few tricks up her sleeve that you haven't in your sleep deprived hysterical, can't think straight, state, thought of. Keep a list of phone numbers by the phone. Seriously. Fellow moms can comfort you, the following annoying questions/comments after you have the baby will not...

• 'How does he/she sleep at night?' (I'm STILL getting asked this) Do people enjoy hearing that the baby is up every couple of hours, or (as I suspect), is it a way for them to tell you about how well their little one sleeps? FYI: they're lying if they say their six month old sleeps through the night. It just doesn't happen. Here's the big zinger, and I'm not sure if I should tell you, it may make you cry, but....it can take YEARS for your child to sleep through the night without you having to get up and comfort your little monkey. Each child is different, but it is a guarantee that your baby will not sleep uninterrupted throughout the night. Everyone has something to say about this, from the Dr.'s advice to 'Ferberize' your baby (evil, evil doctor), to grandma's advice to let the baby cry-it-out. If you follow either advice, be prepared to have an iron heart, and steel-will... I have found that "The No-Cry Sleep Solution" by Elizabeth Pantley and "Sleep Solutions" by Ann Douglas to be gentler approaches.
  
• 'When do you plan on having more kids?' Sick, sadistic bastards. You'll want to smack whoever asks you this, especially if you haven't yet resumed relations with your husband (the doc will give you the thumbs up after 8 weeks. Realistically? Between the loss of sleep, and the fact that your, um, bits, are unrecognizable and still quite tender, I'd say four or five months later is more like it. Inform your hubby that there is no scientific proof that he will die of a sperm clot.)
• Again, some stupid fool will ask you when you're due, even though you have your one month old in a stroller right next to you. Throw in a few hormones and this may make you cry. The weight WILL come off, but it is definitely gradual. You may only lose about fifteen pounds right after giving birth.
• Perfect strangers will ask if you're breastfeeding. Once you've shed all shame during delivery, your body and its parts are open for discussion. (someone actually asked me if I'd pooped during delivery. C'mon! I love a good poop story, but there ARE lines I'd prefer not to cross...why on earth do you want to know that anyway?) Back to breastfeeding...because I'm not a stranger, I'll share my thoughts with you. It's the cheapest, most convenient option. However, it's also painful. The 'experts' (who must all be men), say it shouldn't hurt. I've yet to hear a mom say otherwise. For me, it hurt like an s.o.b. for the first six weeks. I almost gave up, but we hung in there and the pain did go away ('all purpose nipple ointment' and frozen peas helped a bit). I met with a public health nurse and a lactation consultant because I thought Em wasn't latching on properly. Nope, she knew what she was doing. I had been led to believe that something was wrong because of the 'no-pain' theory, when everything was just proceeding as it should. My daughter just sucks REALLY hard. She's since been described as an 'efficient feeder.' (downs her milk in record time because she sucks soooo hard.) Another huge challenge for me with breastfeeding were the horrid stints of 'cluster feeding.' During cluster feeds I could often be found crying and topless for the greater part of the day. This was because Em would feed every 20 minutes ALL DAY AND NIGHT. Hence being topless. What's the point of putting them away when they were just going to come right back out again? Visitors were not very welcome on these days. Luckily, cluster feeding does not last more than a day or two, and usually only occurs during your little one's growth spurts. (3 weeks, 6 weeks, 2 months and 6 months if I remember correctly...) Extra word of caution though: if you experience a 'let-down' when you're topless, your cat may think it hit the jackpot.
  
• Immediately ignore the following comment: 'Don't pick up mini-squid every time he/she cries! You'll spoil him/her!' Pure and utter nonsense. Babies can't be spoiled with love and attention. They're just babies! They don't understand this crazy/hectic/scary world. Imagine being left all alone to scream and cry, when that is the only way you know how to communicate. That would be soooo frustrating. When I was told I was spoiling my daughter, I always responded with "No, I'm LOVING her." (the spoiling comments consistently came from people of my grandmother's generation)

Things that you'll want to stock up on:

• Extra heavy duty absorbent pads. Steal as many from the hospital as you can, and buy others BEFORE you deliver. Trust me, you don't want to run out and you WILL need them (potentially as long as six weeks post-partum).
  
• As for 'stealing' from the hospital, try and 'borrow' a few extra pairs of the mesh underwear they provide you with. (there was a supply closet next to the shower at the hospital - I stealthily helped myself) No use ruining the few extra pairs of underwear you have at home that still actually fit your behind. Also, take all of the diapers that they provide you with too.
  
• Suppositories. The hospital will supply you with a few, but you will need more. For awhile.
• Casseroles and healthy snacks. The week before I delivered, I was a cooking monster. I stocked up enough ready-made meals to last about two weeks postpartum. I also baked a lot of bran muffins. Some days, that may be all you'll be able to grab, especially on cluster feeding days. Word of caution: while you are pregnant, you drink milk like it's going out of style. While nursing....many babies can't tolerate it. Every time I drank it, or ate too much cheese (bye bye pizza), Em puked. A lot. Five months later, I was able to resume dairy consumption.
  

Rough time line of your sanity/competency level for the first few months:

• The first week is the hardest. Your head will spin and your body will protest at what has happened to it. You'll think you're living in 'opposite' world. However, once it is over, you'll think it flew. (even though at the time you'll be convinced that some joker tampered with the clock and hit pause.)
• Then the first month has passed. You'll get a feel for what is 'normal,' and you'll no longer remember what life was like before your mini-dictator set up camp. Going out isn't terrifying anymore. You'll know where the washrooms are in every mall, and if they are occupied, you'll know where the closest change room/mall bench is to feed your little one.
  
• Third month. You'll finally feel like you actually know what you're doing. You'll be able to differentiate between your babies cries, and you WILL (trust me, you're a smart girl) be able to tell when your baby is crying for milk, or crying because he/she is tired.
  
• Sixth month. You're a pro. (unless teething starts at this time, then you may feel like you're at square one all over again). Now is when you will start to dispense advice to other moms, feeling like you've been doing this all of your life.
  

Last words: you are going to love your mini-squid with such intensity it will overcome you at the strangest moments. Your hubby, who you thought was the most important person in the world, will take second place (by a mile), much to his chagrin. You will find yourself crying, but it is a good cry.

Last last words: If I've gone overboard and crossed the line with my 'tidbits', then feel free to give me a good punch the next time you see me. Just do it gently please, pregnant women are scarily strong....

A day in the life of Miss Em

8:00 am ish: nurse for the umpteenth time since going to bed, decide there is enough light in the room to wake up. Look over at mom and start pinching her chest. I'm awake, get up! Sit up, attempt to climb over Daddy. Hmm....much more difficult to wake him up. Pull self up on metal head board and bang it against wall until Daddy finally wakes up. Sort of. Mom and I get out of bed and head downstairs.

8:15. Not a fan of the diaper change. I can't move when Mommy changes me on the change table. All manner of toys she attempts to bribe me with get thrown on the floor. Sometimes, if I make enough of a fuss, she'll change me while I stand up and try to toddle away. I haven't peed on the floor yet...

8:30. Not too keen on the high chair either. What is with trying to confine me? There's a whole world out there that I MUST EXPLORE! Also, oatmeal, again? Everyday? Who told you that was a good idea? I'd also like it on the record that it is beneath me to let you spoon food into my mouth. How degrading. It is much more dignified if you just let me use my hands to shovel everything in...my mouth...my ears....my nose...

9:00. Play time! Wooohhooooo!

9:10. Oh no. She's trying to get my jammies off and put other clothes on me. Why mom? Why do you insist on torturing me?

9:20. I'm free again! Oooh, what's that? I'm going to get that ball across the room. But wait. I see another baby in the glass on the TV stand. Let's play! Oooopppsss. These feet are always tripping me up. And this darn heavy head...Can it please stop bumping into things? Needing a few Mommy hugs.

10:00. That crazy mommy is singing again. Doesn't she ever stop? Seriously Mom, don't you know another tune besides 'Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.' You may change the lyrics, but I'm not fooled. Put on some real music that I can actually dance to.

10:15. Eyes are getting heavy. Why do they do that? I don't want to sleep again!

10:30. Mommy's lap is the best place to sleep.

10:35. Dreaming...sleeping...did I just dream that she put me down to sleep on my own? No, she couldn't have....

12:00. I'm awake, I'm awake! Wait, where did that Mommy go? These cushions aren't my mommy. Gasp! She fooled me!

12:30. Change table and high chair business again. This time I figured the dog looked like he needed some food. Looks better on the floor than in my hair anyway.

1:15. I found my favourite book! Must get it to Mommy. Read 'Hop on Pop' again!

1:18. Read it again!

1:20. And again!

2:00. Ohh, there goes Daddy. I'm gonna get him. Here I go. Curses. Foiled again by the closed office door. Maybe if I bang enough he'll open it.

2:05. Works every time.

2:10. Out comes the mega watt smile...just try and close that door again! Resistance is futile....

2:45. What's that sound? I've got to investigate. High pitched chirping right outside this window. I can see it in the bush, but I can't quite get it. Maybe if I bang on the glass like I bang on Daddy's door.

2:47. Nope, sound is gone now. Hmm...Ooohhh, Dog bed....

3:00. That was fun. Hudson's bed is so comfy. He'll be none the wiser that I was rolling around in it. Uh oh. Mommy doesn't look too happy. No, stop, I LIKE being covered in dog hair!

3:30. Darn droopy eyelids.

4:45. What just happened? I was playing....then Mommy was nursing me....then....I rolled over and those darn cushions were there again! MOOOOOMMMMMYYYYYY!

5:00. Rumbly in my tumbly. I don't understand why I can't walk and eat. Really, Mom. What's the big deal?

5:15. Nice try with the chickpeas. You can keep trying all you like, but they're just going to end up on the floor for the dog every time.

5:45. Washcloths are not my friend. YOU try having someone attack you with it and take away your food makeup. I will, however, permit you to wash my hands in the sink like a big girl.

6:00. These feet were made for walking, and that's just what I'll do....

6:30. Hey baby in the mirror, come here often? You look really familiar. Have we met before?

7:00. Crazy lady is trying to take my clothes off again. Haha. I'm making a break for it...

7:15. Sigh. She got me. And now my darn feet are covered. Bare feet are so much better.

7:30. Hop on pop, hop on pop! Stop! You must not hop on pop! Walk walk, we like to walk....
I could listen to this ALL DAY.

8:00. Oh sooo sleepy....it's been a long, exhausting day! For me, that is. Not sure why Mommy looks so tired. Not like she fell down numerous times and had to pick herself up to keep walking! Really mom, you've got it made!

Pros and cons of being a mother

As I approach the double digit marker as a mother (ten months), I have been thinking about what I have loved, and what has not rubbed me the right way. Of course, everyone knows that the pros outweigh the cons (that what you have to say, isn't it?)....

Pros:

• In the beginning, my breasts could compete with any porn star's double d assets. My hubby nicknamed them 'Tit'anic and the Hinden'boob.'
  
• I am more comfortable than ever with carrying around a bit of extra weight. It doesn't really bother me. I like it when my darling daughter uses my spare tire as a pull toy.
  
• I am forced to be nicer to people. I'm usually quite crusty when I go out and about, but it's impossible to scowl with a baby in tow. People won't let me. They start oohing and cooing at my daughter, and then she starts smiling back. Then damn it, I just have to smile too.
  
• The wardrobe is FANTASTIC! Who knew shopping could be so much fun? All of the cute accessories, fabrics, and shoes! I love it so much it makes me want to puke! Of course, it's not MY wardrobe that is amazing, it's my daughter's clothes that look like they could be on the cover of Today's Parent. My clothes are functional (I need shirts that are hassle free and enable me to whip out my boob in 2.5 seconds). Who knew clothes could be described that way?
• I can talk about poop with people I've just met, and it is considered acceptable. 'Oh, you're son's puke dripped down into your bra? Well, my daughter had a really good morning when she was six weeks old, and her poop filled my belly button! Then it dripped down my legs! It even seeped between my toes and the dog tried to lick it up!' Veterans of motherhood trade bodily function stories like war-stories.
• I love being idolized. Everyday I am the winner of 'Mommy Idol.' At least in our house. I wonder when Em will stop voting for me?
  
• Just like at McDonald's, smiles are free!

Cons:

• Whereas my breasts used to be bountiful, after months of breastfeeding, I could easily sit side by side with some of the women who have been featured in National Geographic. You know the ones I'm talking about. Gravity is a bitch.
• Whoever said that stretch marks fade was lying through their teeth. They are still a nice deep purple, especially when I'm cold. I'm ALWAYS cold so they are ALWAYS there.
• 'Mommy brain.' If you're a mom, surely you've experienced this wonderful phenomenon. Fogginess, confusion, inability to focus - especially when you're child is screaming... If you're experiencing these symptoms, don't worry, you're not having a stroke. You just pushed out a gagillion brain cells in addition to a baby during labour. That's my theory anyway.
• Attack of the guilt trips. They come from every direction and are often unexpected. Just the other day I was told by an 'authority figure', that giving my daughter a soother and a sippy cup would cause her to develop a lisp, because her tongue muscles wouldn't develop properly. Wonderful. This led me to ask (as I felt defensive and needed to try and deflect the guilt that was creeping in), 'so, according to that theory, shouldn't every child who uses a bottle and breastfeeds also develop a lisp? Really, aren't we all screwed?' (okay, I didn't say the last part but I did ask the question. I'm still trying to be 'nice' after all.)
  
• Lack of privacy. Going to the bathroom with a baby sitting on your lap leaves MUCH to be desired.
• Temper tantrums. 'nuff said.

As time goes on, I'm sure the pros and cons will change with all of the big milestones in Em's life. Terrible two's, pre-school, school, first date.... GAK. Must stop now. Life is flashing before my eyes...

My days are numbered

I am faced with another countdown, but a much different one from nine months ago. Nine months ago I was wondering how my little one would change my life, and what I would be like as a mother. I never in my wildest dreams imagined how much I would dread this new deadline that is looming over me, much like the yucky feeling one gets when faced with a physical (or doing a group presentation - ick).

In approximately 7 weeks, my mat leave runs out. Nine months ago, I wasn't worried about returning to work. I was worried about how to look after a wriggly, hungry, poopy newborn. (hmm, that's catchy - I might be able to turn that into a song...) And now? Now I am completely addicted to my daughter and all thoughts of returning to work, and school, leave me feeling sick to my stomach. My stress level these last few months has been almost nonexistent, except when Em is sick and cranky all day. But that stress is so much different from the stress that comes from trying to accomplish a million and one things in the span of a very cramped 24-hour day. I have not really had to stress out about getting anywhere on time, nor have I had to stress out about having five assignments due in one week. Instead, I've been able to just enjoy watching my monkey figure out how to sit, giggle, babble, feed herself, pull herself up, and be on the brink of walking. Some people may think that these simple things are just that - simple - and that they are not fulfilling. Nonsense. I have never been happier. So far this has been the best year of my life! (even getting crapped on ranks up there - because not getting crapped on would mean there would be no bundle of joy in my life). I have enjoyed being at home so much that I would like to do this on a full-time basis. *GASP* Did I just say that? Yes, I, former work-a-holic, would trade it all if I could just be a stay-at-home mom. My hubby likes to remind me that I declared when we started dating that I would NEVER stay at home and look after children. The funny things you say before you have kids! (such as, 'soothers are evil, I will never give one to my child' - that one flew out the window rather quickly)

Another large part of my trepidation about returning to work, is that I don't actually have a job to return to. The job I held while pregnant with Em was a student position. I could only return to it if I had been a full-time student this past year. (in the early days of being pregnant I had seriously thought I would return to school when Em was only four months old. hahahaha) So now I need to start looking for a job. This potential job will probably entail looking after other people's children, at a daycare, while someone else looks after my daughter. That is just screwed up. Even if the other person looking after my daughter is her daddy, or her grandma. It should be me!

How do other moms do it? In the U.S., most moms have to return to work after 12 weeks. They obviously have it worse, but this still doesn't make me feel better. What if I miss something? What if Em feels like I've abandoned her? I'm convinced that I'm the best person for the job (even though on some days I feel like I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing - HUGE CONTRADICTION). The guilt that is weighing on me is monstrous. This weight on my conscience is more than I've ever felt - even when I've had three essays due and they are all late and I can't sleep just thinking about them. Will she be permanently scarred when I return to work? Am I being neurotic? Is there a handbook out there that can help me deal with this? A support group? A reaaalllllyyyy large cappuccino and jelly bellies on the side? Ugh ugh ugh.

Moment of sappiness - attempts at poetry

All right, I have moments where not everything is a barrel of monkeys. Not everything in life can be hilarious...sigh. (although after watching Ellen today I wonder if maybe all things in life CAN be laughed at - like blindfolded musical chairs - 'youtube' it, funny funny stuff)

I digress. Last year in Education we had an assignment to write a poem of sorts, based on an a previously written poem, titled 'I am From...' Then we had to do the unthinkable and stand in front of our new classmates and bare our souls with said poems. Mortifying stuff.

Now I'm going to do it again. Slightly easier this time, what with not having to actually look at whoever reads this. At least not WHILE they read it. Try not to tease me tooooo much when you see me again.

So first, please read the 'I am from' poem that I wrote last year for my class, before I had my darling little monkey. Then, read the second version, all about my little babykins. Enjoy. (hopefully, and lie to me if you don't!)

I am from....

I am from powdered milk and pancakes, which arrived in a cardboard box on our door-step once a year at Christmas time.
(the taste ever-lasting,
never quite fading,
always making me gag)

I am from apartment after apartment, basement level to ninth story with a balcony, where I rode my first bike.
(trains passing, apartment swaying, dishing rattling)
I am from being seen and not heard, escaping into a British closest where magic prevailed and lions roared.
(squeezing my eyes shut and praying for reality to trade places with fantasy)

I am from the 70’s where the Dancing Queen reigned, and Knowing Me and Knowing You was easy.
(not quite understanding but singing with my Mom anyway)

I am from cousins instead of siblings, numbering over thirty by the time I drew my first breath.
I am from Truth or Dare, always being a daredevil though cowering inside.
(pretending that, yes, mud did taste like chocolate, and, yes, I would like to be paddy-whacked again…)

I am from the Romper Room, but not really because my name was never found in the mirror.
(always waiting to hear my name after the “Jennifers,” “Amandas,” and “Christines”)

I am from ice-cream with the coloured gumball at the bottom of the plastic cone, eaten with a clumsy wooden spoon.
(sticky hands smeared on my red cords, which Mom said didn’t match my pink t-shirt. Why not?)

I am from a place where I am still trying to understand where it is that I really came from.




I am from…

I am from a stick that I oh so gracefully peed on, which lit up ‘positive’ly blue – a baby due in May
(I said ‘Oh my,’ my husband said ‘oh no’)

I am from months of waiting, appointment after appointment, where I first heard your heart beating out a steady rapturous rhythm
(anticipation mounting, are you healthy?)
I am from seeing your little body for the ‘first time’, all bones, lit up on the ultrasound screen
(you had my heart in your tiny hands from this moment on)

I am from little feet kicking me in the ribs and the bladder, letting me know you are there and are getting bigger everyday
(as was I, waddling everywhere I went, running out of breath at every set of stairs I had the misfortune of coming across)

I am from sharp pains that began, intensely, at 4:06 in the morning and ended exactly fourteen-and-a-half hours later
(birthing class lied, I could not make the pain go away by ‘seeing, hearing, feeling, breathing’; nor did I find the ‘pain-fairy’ very charming – damn witch blocked the epidural…)

I am from feeling you come into this world and being stunned into silence by your presence, your beauty, everything YOU.
(I thought I would cry, but was too overwhelmed and relieved that you were alive and kicking)

I am from holding you and nursing you before you were even thirty minutes old and feeling like life would never be more complete than right at that moment
(who knew that this feeling would continue on a daily basis)

I am from a place where I have finally understood why I am here.
(I am your mother, and always will be)

Time warps, confessions, and prerogatives

Okay, who is the joker that hit the fast-forward button? Seriously, someone must have hit that button because I can't figure out where the the time has gone! However, I wouldn't trade the last seven months for anything in the world. Except maybe six hours of uninterrupted sleep. Kidding! Even five would be good....No? Four? (I get three hours in a row on a GOOD night.)

When I started writing this blog I was sooooo determined that I would write every week without fail. I had visions of blogging while my daughter slept peacefully in her crib as I slowly drank a cup of yummy coffee. Wholly crap was I ever deluded and naive. Sigh. The things you think you know before you become a parent! I had also read another 'mommy blog,' in which the mom wrote every week for the first year of her second child's life. So I figured if THAT mom could write once a week with two kids in tow, how hard could it be for me? Hahahahaha (hysterical laughter ensues). I realized later (upon feeling very guilty for not being able to write about EVERYTHING that was happening in my amazing daughter's life), that the other blogger PAID someone to come and watch her children while she blogged, because she was also being PAID to write a book! (Any takers out there? Come on, I could use the extra cash!)

My little one is now eight months old and it has gone by in the blink of an eye. What have we been doing that whole time? Well, I've been....very....sleepy. And confused, amazed, bewildered, excited, enthralled, euphoric, frantic....sometimes all in one breath. How has my little one been? She is a little ball of energy. In the last eight months she has learned so much that I am in awe. This past week she pulled herself up to standing in her crib, and by the end of the week she was walking around the house holding on to my fingers (a whole new experience in the back-pain department). All this without yet figuring out how to crawl, or push herself up to sit. How do babies learn so fast and why do they skip some stages? I'm mystified. She is also experimenting with language. Lot's of ba, ga, da, ma, (I'm convinced she is calling me mama, but of course dada says she's not), ya, na...It's very entertaining. Ah, the things that count as entertainment these days...sleeping baby - entertaining. Giggling - entertaining. Farting - even more entertaining....

I also have a very guilty confession to make. My daughter does not sleep in her crib. EVER. Not only does she sleep with me at night, but I have not been able to force myself to make her sleep in her crib during the day. That's because....I, um, hold her while she naps. There, I said it. Am I a terrible mom for doing this? (Any other moms want to fess up to this? Please do, it will make me feel MUCH better.) Why do I do this? It's not because I think a 20 lb baby feels like feathers in my arms. I do it because I think that time is precious and before long she won't let me hold her like that anymore. It's only another three months before I return to work (an entirely separate post will need to be written about that), and will have to let someone else hold her. Okay, I know before that point I'm going to have to 'train' her to sleep in her crib because I can't realistically expect someone else to hold her while she naps. Now I feel just a wee bit selfish...and...horrified at how painful it is going to be to get her to sleep in her crib (she screams so hard she gags every time I try to lay her down in it). Ugh. The next three months are going to be hell...that I brought on myself....

Selfish indulgences aside, I have become an expert at a few things that I never thought I would ever be proud of:

1. I can drive and reach back into my daughter's car-seat and replace her 'sucky' without ever taking my eyes off of the road.
2. I can change a diaper faster than you can say 'quick, she peed on the wall!' (what can I say, she's talented)
   
3. I can sing numerous kids songs, without forgetting a single word. (and for those rare times when I actually do forget, then I just change the song - they all sound like 'Twinkle twinkle little star' anyway.)
4. I can whip out a boob and feed her quicker than Barney can sing 'I love you, you love me...'
5. I can type an entire blog with one hand, because I'm holding my sleeping daughter with the other hand.

Okay, so I'm a bit of a hypocrite on that last point. I'm supposed to be holding my daughter while she sleeps so that I can lovingly gaze at her and not miss a single sleepy twitch. Buuuuuut, I was going through a bit of writing withdrawal, and thought that I would seize the moment. Actually, I've been trying to seize the moment for a few days worth of naps. Hey, I didn't say I typed fast with one hand. Besides, I'm the mom now. I can be as contrary as I like! It's a mom's prerogative.