3.06.2008
the birth story, before I forget
2.25.2008
jot it down
- Must start picking my own lottery numbers. Some couple just won using their grandkids' birthdays. And I'm noticing that if you get more than one line on a Powerball ticket (line meaning chance to win) the Powerball number is often the same! Horseshit!
- Are you watching that show In Treatment on HBO? Homigod, it's become an obsession. It doesn't help that they put all five weekly episodes On Demand before they even air each week! I like watching it in the middle of the night when every one seems to be able to sleep except me. It makes me want to be back in therapy...but only if Gabriel Byrne is the therapist.
I love it when Sasha:
- plays with my shirt when she's nursing. I only have one shirt with a busy pattern on it, and it happens to be very soft, so when I wear it she stares, mesmerized, while her hands work it like she's knitting me socks.
- tries to eat my nose
- LAUGHS! OMFG you guys, she LAUGHED, just one little donkey-braying syllable, after which my entire body melted into a pool on the floor and Micah had to scrape me up before the dog licked up my left leg.
- wears a dress. It's a rare occasion but it needs to become regular.
- watches the dog. And watches the dog more. And more and more and more. She finds Avery fascinating. If he only knew! He's too busy being fascinated with me.
- screams. She totally gears herself up for it. Her breathing gets heavier, her arms and legs start to flail, and then she lets out a couple starter screams. When she really gets going, she screams so loud that she even startles herself.
I do not love it when Sasha:
- has gas. She basically groaned ALL DAY yesterday. I know it's the new food.
- is tired. Insufferable little squirt.
2.22.2008
American Gladiatress
Also, life is a teensy bit more fun whilst wearing a ponytail near the top of your head. Just try not to swing it.
Mmkay, though, really...my baby could knock you out. She's Herculina. She can pull herself into a standing position if you hold her hands. Then she just...stands there...for minutes and minutes and minutes and I'm pretty sure she's going to be too tall for gymnastics but I'd settle for rugby or shotput!
Right now she is bouncingbouncingbouncing in her Jumpster, which I'd perform oral on if it had genitalia. Just out of gratitude, you know? She is in love. Sasha + Jumpster 4 eva. Or until 30 lbs, which might as well be 4 eva, that's how far away it seems. For some reason, I assume Sasha will always be a ten pound baby. But seriously, dude, she's huge. She feels heavier every time I pick her up. 17 lbs! And OMG! We got the go-ahead to start giving her REAL FOOD! She is already shitting more!
Messy carrot-face pictures to come. For now, sink your teeth into the deliciousness:
mmmm nomnomnom cheeeeeeeks
(and that would be drool, not her first piercing.)
Oh, and Sasha asked me to update you RE: new stuffs...
what she actually said was,
"Dis mah new office, where I computes."
2.08.2008
home sweet oh neverfuckinmind
I WANT A HOUSE. If there is anything more annoying to want RIGHTNOW, please tell me what it is. And yes, serendipity can be forced. It wouldn't take a miracle to line up a house in a day, but poor, poor Micah would beg me to back the fuck up for a second. Because girl, you cuh-razy.
Our apartment building was recently sold. Immediately the new owners announced they'd be installing central air, heat, and new windows. Living with these updates has been less than ideal. Workers of all varieties show up to do their little bit almost every day, with little to no warning. Sasha has been woken up by drills, hammers, and unobservant workers who want to coo at her loudly. Micah and I have been...uh...interrupted. So has breastfeeding. The workers leave the place dusty, even when I offer to move furniture so it won't get that way. There is no end in sight to these updates. We never would have moved here if we knew this would happen.
And there is simply no one to blame but me about picking a place with such a shitty fucking kitchen. I literally have this much space to cook. One tiny square of counter. I'm pretty sure the refrigerator was the very first model on the market.
So. I WANT A HOUSE.
So. What did I do? Well last week I spent a few days looking for houses online. I made a short list, and Micah and I drove to see them. Deciding that one was absolutely perfect, and cheap! cheap! cheap!, I called the agent. The house had eight other offers. We hadn't even been approved for a loan yet. I got pissed, discouraged, and suddenly the idea of getting a house seemed like nothing but heartache. We'll probably be looking at foreclosures, which are owned by banks, which can take two weeks to decided and they almost never bargain. Fabulous. I don't understand how so many people live in such expensive houses. I know most people aren't rich. But why does it seem so unfair that we can't afford a $200,000 house even though that's totally a lower-than-average price here? Are people just that in debt? I don't get it. I just don't fucking get it. I deserve a $200,000 house. It's not so ridiculous.
Then Brenda tells us that her elderly neighbor just moved into a nursing home. The house wasn't on the market yet. It has 3 bedrooms, just like we want. It's two doors down from family (babysitters!). I'm seriously hoping Brenda will work some magic on them. Who wants to put a house on the market when there are buyers available? Even if it means taking less than you think the house is worth, wouldn't you do it? Please, please...send the good juju.
I WANT THAT HOUSE.
2.02.2008
mah stuff
Dis last one I like bestest. I's a Libra. Did u know we like clothes?
I has slings. One for the mama,
and one for the daddy. Sometimes I falls sleep.
Dis me and mah cousin Quaid. I would like one of dees stuffs he got pleez.
See, I plays in it good! Sometimes I falls sleep. Already told you dat!
Dis mah favorite dress. Mama told me to say dis.
I wears dis dress wif dees shooz. Dis stuff makes Mama cry! Dey are SHOES, Mama!
Dis me and mah dog. I like him pretty good. He very soft but his mowf kinda stinky. He gib me kisses.
Maybe next week I'll show you sumfin real special...my first toof! Mama told me to tell you she sez "WTF?!" and also "ouch."
1.23.2008
holy hairloss, Batman
I've rediscovered the online forums that I used to visit when I was pregnant. Each month has its own club, basically, of women with the same due dates. Well, now it's a Playgroup, so I can go see what other women with 3-month-old babies are going through. Yes, other people are losing their hair. Other women have achy joints, especially knees (possibly dehydration! must up my already-upped water intake!), other women have concerns about getting their breastfed babies to accept a bottle. Other babies are rolling over, and Sasha is not. I try not to get uppity about this, because I've read enough mommy blogs to know that the Look What My Baby Does! game is cruel. But still. Why isn't she rolling over? Also? Can I just mention that I am not finding my big, revered baby book to be helpful? It makes me feel like I'm not doing this job correctly, and that if we do not HEED THIS ADVICE our baby will have Issues. My opinion on the matter is...is the baby alive? Check. The enlightened parenting can happen when I'm getting some really great sleep. (Does that ever happen? Please? Oh god.)
The newest thing taking up space in our tiny apartment with the sole purpose of keeping the baby entertained is a Jumpster. It attaches to a door frame and holds her up so she can bounce, jump, or just hang limp, you know, chillaxin'. I suspect she's a few weeks too young for it, but I do know that she absolutely loves to stand up straight, supporting herself entirely. We just keep our hands there to make sure she doesn't fall over. She really gets into it. Anyway, back to the Jumpster. Here she is in her first attempt:
She mostly locks her knees and stands there. For now. I have great expectations for this contraption.
Not long after I found out I was pregnant, Micah and I were visiting his brother Bob, who owns a Native American souvenir shop out in the country (random, yes, I'll have to tell that story one day). During this visit I noticed, for the very first time, that they had baby moccasins. I scribbled a mental post-it and then totally forgot about them until a few days ago, when Bob's wife Kathy gave us these:
Which are totally perfect for Jumpstering! The thought of my baby's delicate little biscuity sweet feet scraping against that wood floor...like all the world's nails on a chalkboard. Mostly she's a barefoot little scamp, because I have sock prejudice. I've noticed that everyone likes to expose my baby to their pet peeves. Micah hates having anything constricting around his neck. Half of his shirts are ripped to avoid this (and the other half are deemed NOT FOR WORK, i.e. "don't you dare fucking rip them! It's not a fashion statement!") So I frequently find Sasha with her zipper pulled down to her belly, because "she was hot." Well, I hate wearing socks, so I must admit my baby never wears socks. First of all, there is a fit problem. They either cut off her circulation or fall off. Her feet are rarely cold, just so you know. Don't you be calling CPS on me! Brenda always has her sleeves rolled up because she has a rolled-up sleeves type of job. So of course, I found Sasha with her sleeves rolled up while under Brenda's watch.
What pressure to perform. What pressure to not royally fuck the fuck up.
Lastly, would you like to enjoy some tummy time with my princess?
1.18.2008
screw Wednesday
When has taken to snorgling her face into the soft fringe when she's sleepy. I find this absolutely adorable.
This is Sasha with the infamous Brenda. Brenda is so loud and outgoing, it would be impossible for a baby to not be smitten. I found it very interesting that Sasha spent a long time looking at the words on Brenda's shirt. She also stares at the writing on my water cup. Already a reader! Hot damn!
Here is Curte, Micah's brother and good friend. Talk about smitten. He's head over heels for her. I think she tolerates him because he and Micah make similar noises.
This is Sasha making out with her other love, Chicken, who has a nice big orange beak for her to play tonsil hockey with. I believe the moment I captured here is Chicken gagging my daughter with his inexperienced kissing skillz.
This is me singing to Crankie NoPants.
I usually sing a very jacked up but hilarious version of that song that goes
Hush little baby, don't say a word, Momma's gonna buy you a mocking bird, and if that mocking bird don't sing, Momma's gonna buy you a diamond ring...
And that's where I get a little fuzzy about the lyrics. So I continue to sing, attempting never to succumb to a moment of silence, because when I actually get her to be quiet I don't give up until I'm good and sure, you know?
And if that diamond ring don't shine, Momma's gonna buy you a porcupine, and if that porcupine isn't sharp, Momma's gonna buy you a purple harp, and if that purple harp don't play, Momma's gonna buy you a sunny day...
That's the normal version. It gets downright sick at times, but she can't understand yet, so whatevs.
Now someone please engage me in some adult conversation. Someone other than my husband, mmkay?
1.08.2008
the faces of eve
There is something that Sasha would like you to know...
"I'm a badass muthasucka. Betta recognize. Yeah, it's a bonnet, what of it? Wanna step?"
Clearly, she is suspicious of the dangling lion. And absolutely furious with the giraffe. But mostly, this baby is chillin'. She takes life as it comes, enjoying the taste of her long, chubby fingers. If her fingers taste like her cheeks smell, I totally understand.
1.05.2008
that was yesterday
Brenda is quite a character, and she's become the older sister I never had. She's 49, menopausal, divorced, and every bit a Leo - fiery, independent, and proud. She has frequent hot flashes and carries a bottomless glass of wine. She's deaf in one ear, has a slight speech impediment, and speaks at a higher decibel than the rest of us. She adores the baby, and because she never had any kids of her own, she relishes every opportunity to hold her, cluck at her, and tell her she's the prettiest baby in the world. When her extremely intelligent and animated pug Henny Penny starts barking at the television, Brenda half-heartedly tells the dog to shut up. She's hoping Penny will wake up the baby, because Sasha just isn't any fun when she's asleep.
Brenda knows Micah better than anyone, except maybe Curte. After Micah's mother died when he was four, Brenda stepped in and treated Micah like her own. She was married at the time but considered her husband such a baby that she thought it wise not to have any actual babies with him. So Micah spent a lot of time with them, and they filled each other's voids. They took him to Disney World. He stayed with them when he wasn't getting along with his dad. When he was sixteen, they hired him at their small concrete company and tought him all the skills he'd need to be the valued concrete worker he is today. Because Brenda knows Micah so well, she is the perfect ear when I'm frustrated with him. So last night I sat at her kitchen table and drank wine with her, letting all the dirty details of the day bounce off of her. Since she's a little deaf I never know if she's picking up exactly what I'm saying, but she always gets the gyst of it. She does most of the talking, which is usually fine with me. We compare our road-rage tendencies. She asks me to help her put music on her computer because she'd really like to get a HiPod. (I am too amused by this error to correct her.) She often speaks in complete paragraphs, even when it's just her and Penny in the room.
"Henny Penny! Do you want some Dr. Pepper? Here. Here's the cup. Oh you don't want it? Is it flat? Don't be a brat, have some. There. See? It's still good. Ok, Henny Penny, we need to empty the dishwasher. Then I need to smoke. Oh, let's smoke first. Wanna go outside? Hmm? Gabby? You need a Dr. Pepper?"
Brenda turned her neat-freak tendencies into an income. She's a self-employed cleaning lady for some rich folks around town. She doesn't just clean, she does whatever needs to be done, such as put up Christmas trees and clean up after parties. She seems to genuinely enjoy the work, and her clients are constantly giving her things they don't want or need anymore. Some of these gifts are bestowed upon us, like a fabulous wooden bunkbed and a decidedly unfabulous gold lamp. Last year Brenda was given a parrot named Maggie. Maggie scares me, but only because she really seems to enjoy Micah. I'm pretty sure she wants to have his babies and hates me because I beat her to it. She likes to climb up on Micah's shoulder and whisper in his ear. Yes, whisper. Apparently she says "watch it!" and "gotcha!" and has even told Micah she loves him. She nestles her head in his hair, right behind his ear, and climbs into the hood on his sweatshirt. This behavior intimidates me, especially after Brenda demonstrated how jealous and territorial Maggie can be. Brenda tried to get close to Micah and Maggie, dancing frantically on his shoulder, snapped her beak at Brenda's face and only missed because Brenda moved in time. The bird is terribly keen, so I try not to make eye contact because I think she'll take it as a challenge. She wants my man, and might decide to peck me to death. I tell her she's pretty a lot.
A half an hour with Brenda will set your mood straight. It's impossible not to be charmed by her. Eventually she will get you to have a glass of wine, or settle into her big leather couch and watch tv, or take this ugly gold lamp, or whatever it is you're resisting. Her reasons are always better than yours.
Everyone needs a Brenda. I know she'll be a person Sasha is always excited to see, and she'll always come with a story after hanging out with Aunt Brenda, who said Sasha can call her Sissy if she wants, just like Micah did when he was a baby.
Sasha, by the way, is doing just wonderfully. Except for shittastic days like yesterday, she's a gem, a doll, a peach. I'm learning her language a bit better, evaluating her moods more accurately. She eats her hands all the time and recently learned how to roll onto her side. She makes noises galore, including a charming coo and an alarming grunt (mostly gas related). She heaves her body to and fro, so you really have to keep all hands on deck when she's on your lap. I love her more and more every second, and secretly think she's far more adorable than any baby we've seen lately. Or maybe not so secretly.
I'll try to get back to posting on Wednesdays, and I promise I'll post some pictures next time.