Penelope and the banjo

When I got pregnant, we called the fetus Banjo. It seems appropriate that she would take to the instrument so.

This went on for quite some time <3

Super Slide Fail

A friend of mine posted this video on her blog this morning and it got me a little riled up, so I had to share. 

While the mom may have not used great judgement, ahem - put your kid on your lap when deciding to take them on a GIANT slide!? I could see thinking that because your child can sit up (they are obviously in full toddler mode) and can handle the little yellow slide at the park that she's ready for a super slide, (!?!??! *scratching head*) but it's not her ignorance or the stupidity she showed in not letting go of her child's hand that had me getting worked up when I saw this.  

Notice the sub title of "I think the dad hit the nail on the head". 

He asks afterwards, "why did you even do that?" Like he didn't know they were about to go down the slide? Like he wasn't filming it and anticipating his little one giggling at the end of the ride!? Sorry Buddy, but when you set up your video camera to record something like this you are just as guilty for the goose egg that will inevitably appear. Is posting the video (and leaving that line in at the end) some sort of way to get validation that you're totally trying to avoid any sort of accountability???

A one year old's birthday party. Theme: The Exorcist.

Over the past year, some of the people in our lives have really stood up and helped us out. Not just with Penelope but with the adjustment that comes with having a baby. From the friends who walked her so we could sleep (or shag) to the other mamas that reassured me I was justified in my neurosis or the ones who made me truly think about how I wanted to raise my daughter.

From the people who babysat and who cooked for us (and still do) to the grandparents who gave us furniture so she'd have a place to sleep other than a dresser drawer, or so that we'd have dresser drawers or so I'd have a place to nurse comfortably. From the women who help me stay grounded and the ones who pushed me to keep dancing with my daughter to the people who helped me to let go and to laugh at myself, I am so incredibly grateful.

Sunday we celebrated Penelope's first birthday. As much as I wanted to throw a party where we reenacted the birth, we decided that everyone who came should be there for a reason. Not to hear me exclaim that birthing the placenta is too hard in water or yelling at J to make the drumming louder while I pushed. It should be so we could say thank you. In the form of finger foods. And obviously to celebrate the baby made of cuteness - our little Poppet.

I was determined to have a low stress party. We had some hand me down things, I added old school candy and the pennant banner J's friends made for Penelope at her baby shower for decoration. I borrowed a couple left over decorations from a friend's party for her one year old and VOILA, Vintage Toy Party!

It made for fun decorations and encouraged people who insisted on gifts to bring second hand stuff rather than an abundance of factory made plastic that comes with more packaging than I even know how to make sense of.

And much to relief of guests, we nixed the idea of setting up a birthing pool and set up one for the kiddies instead. Plus, outside of the cake (recipe here for those who requested it) and the sugar free, healthy cupcakes for the kiddies and paleo friends, I even kept the lunch low key. Savory shortbread, sandwich rolls, spectacular cheese platters, and veggies with hummus and guacamole. Throw in some watermelon and corn chips and you have a feast... for the fingers! It was awesome. Mostly because I made absolutely none of it. Making food pretty is my specialty, doesn't mean I have to cook it.

Side note: baking is not magical like cooking. It is like science and stupidly stressful. I, being me, had to put extra pressure on myself by choosing to make a Jamie Oliver recipe. And not just any recipe... one that was so good, Martha fucking Stewart posted it on HER website. So, yeah, baking. Stress.Ful. So much that I feel the need to post a close up photo of the cake... seriously, look at that cake. Really... LOOK AT THE CAKE! It was freakin' delicious.

It was a good day. Penelope had a ton of fun being passed around (and held onto for dear life by some) and stuffed her face so full of cupcakes that she promptly threw up all over her crib after everyone had left. That part was disgusting. But hey, it's her party and she'll barf if she wants to. I grabbed her and jumped in the shower, making J spray everything off with a garden hose outside. Well, it only seemed fair since I did take one for the team by simply picking her up out of the replicated Exorcist scene.

See, that's love. When you'll get puke on you so your honey doesn't have to. Right, I was telling you about the party... so it was a success and today Penelope actually turns one. And of course I'm all emotional and don't really know what to make out of the fact that it's been a year. But hey, it has and we're all still alive and even smile occasionally.

 

Now that I'm past the one year mark, will the fog start clearing so my brain will start working again?

My twitch is broken...

It's really, really hard sometimes to do what needs to be done. Some days you look at the basket of laundry, the counter full of dishes, the other basket of laundry and the recycle bin that's been dumped out on the floor and just say, "fuck it". 

Then you sit down with a glass of (insert guilty pleasure here) and sulk that you're not out riding your bike to the beach with your friends. You could be, but now that you've taken in the disaster that is your house you feel far too guilty leaving it. Especially since you've done nothing lately to contribute to the household duties. And this realization hits while your significant other is doing the dishes. Leaving to get some air, or jump in a lake, just isn't going to cut it.

I'm not sure if you're like me, but since I am the master of sulking - otherwise known as procrastinating., instead of helping, I'm drinking a glass of wine and writing while looking at the paper scattered in the entry way and the toys that litter the living room floor. I'm seriously getting frustrated that my Bewitched powers aren't working. I'M TWITCHING MY NOSE OVER HERE! HELLO???? WITCHY MAGIC POWERS?

Nothing.

Fucking television. This is how Samantha cleaned her house. WTH!? Even my laser vision isn't making things simply incinerate. *sigh

Maybe I could just get a garbage bag and throw everything out. Nah, that would also require getting up and let's face it, it's been a shitty week. I won't lie. I want to sit here and feel sorry for myself for 20 minutes while watching Nurse Jackie. There's nothing like a pill popping, pathological lying, cheating nurse - who is also mom of 2 to a hypochondriac and her younger sibling the pyromaniac - to make you feel better about your own tiny bullshit problems. (Seriously, it'll put things into perspective).

See? MASTER of justification and procrastination.

I have a problem.

In the last couple weeks since I went back to work, J has been picking up the slack. Tremendously. He's doing dishes, and bathing P. He's taking her to daycare and helping put her down at night. He's Mr. Mom. And he's amazing at it. I found myself thinking this morning, "Is there anything that I'M doing?"

Okay, sure there is but let's face it, Penelope is a baby, she's pretty simple. She eats, she poops, she sleeps and now she crawls, creeps and climbs. There's a lot of chasing happening but she's not driving me too crazy thanks to the daily break while I'm at work and she's at daycare. Sure, I entertain Penelope for a couple hours after work. Sometimes she laughs with me, sometimes she clings, sometimes she gives me hugs and kisses. Overall we seem to be doing okay together.

And yeah, I cook. Sometimes. But I`ll be honest, that feels like a break and like I`m getting time to myself most days. I totally feel like I'm sucking the big time right now as a partner. I'm feeling a little guilty. At least I put out a lot. Would more blowjobs make up for not weeding the garden?

Am I the only new mom who feels like they are kind of rocking the mama thing, but mostly because the house cleaning gets ignored and because Baby Daddy is so helpful?

Biting the boob, ahem, the hand* that feeds.

♩♪♫ sing it with me now.... ♩♪ All night long... all night! All night loooong! ♪♫

Last week we got to sleep through the night. Every beautiful night of the week. Mind you we're still getting up with Penelope at 5am but a night of glorious uninterrupted sleep is what ever parent longs for. 

Until it stops.

I feel like we were conditioned for the wake ups after enduring them for 11 months. And then, once we were home from Europe, the jet lag had her only waking once a night for a week. That was lovely. And manageable.

So today... today I'm a mess. Mostly because I got spoiled from her sleeping through the night for 5 nights in a row. So by the fourth fussy wake up last night, I had a hard time handling it. It was like my body didn't really know what to do at 4am as the screaming from P's nursery got louder. The cries of protest from my nipples replaced hers as I tried to nurse her enough to calm her. 

I hate weaning.

More so, I hate weaning while teething. When she does get a little boob she has decided to channel a snapping turtle. Even through the stern no's and taking boob away from her, she continues to bite me. My right nipple is so sensitive right now I swear I will cry if anyone brushes up against it. Maybe she's just pissed about not getting it when she wants it now. Maybe she's just trying to cut the tooth... it doesn't really matter.

There's a saying about about biting the boob that feeds you right?

It's time. 

Less boob - more vegetables.