Fluffy Windover's Diary

It's 11/11/11.

2011-11-11T12:09:00.000-05:00

Dear Diary,

Wow, so it's been a while. I've been busy sucking at being a stay-at-home mom. I am really no good at it, so good thing I'm going back to work next month!

But in good news John has grown VERY CUTE. His cute is large, in my opinion. He smiles and gasps and sighs and gurgles and coos. He gazes at me lovingly and flashes the hugest smile every morning and every night. When he was first born my anxiety over his well-being prevented me from noticing how cute he is. Then suddenly one day I was like, hey, this baby is cute. And he likes me, he really likes me!

Edwin is heavily into super herores, Star Wars (though he's never seen it) and Scooby-Doo. He is not into his brother at all, and frequently requests that I put him down. He has also suggested that maybe Baby Brother would like to live at Grandma and Grandpa's.

And here is the only Halloween photo I got. Edwin is actively pushing John away saying, "Get him OFF! Get him OFF!" Can't you just feel the love?

Love,
Fluffy

Your late-term preemie and you

2011-08-25T11:28:00.000-04:00

Dear Diary,

Little John was five weeks early. This classifies him as a "late-term preemie". Babies born between 34 and 37 weeks are considered late-term preemies. So he's a preemie, but he's pretty much normal size and had no major issues related to prematurity other than being totally pissed at being evacuated from the nice cushy pad where he got to eat taco bell and ice cream every day without even having to wake up to open his mouth.

Aaaaaand herein lies the problem with the late-term preemie. Will not wake up ever, will not eat for more than a minute, when he throws in the towel and falls back asleep. So, here is my day (and night):

Annoy the crap out of him to wake him up(ish).
Put him on boob (may require nipple shield, which I can never find and when I do, has cat hair on it).
Ensure proper latch.
Yay! He's latched.
Wow! He's gulping!
Go, go, go!
Crap, he stopped.
Dang, he's asleep.
Burp him, switch sides, annoy him by bothering his feet.
Do this for about half an hour until I'm reasonably sure he's eaten a respectable amount.
Pump remaining breastmilk.
Feed him said breastmilk with a bottle (or, if unable to pump freak out that my supply is dwindling).
Wash pump, store extra milk.
Swear off breastfeeding forever.
Start crying because I don't want to swear off breastfeeding.
Change poopy diaper.
Find cellphone, set alarm to do it all again in an hour.

When we took him to the doc this week he had gained 18 oz. That's over a pound! In a week! So, something is going right, I guess. But it's so stressful. I never realized how committed I really am to breastfeeding. I'm hoping that if I can just push through, he will wake up and get it and I won't have to pump or use a bottle or a nipple shield or do any of this ridiculous stuff. I'm not opposed to formula; I know that he`would be perfectly healthy on it. But I loved breastfeeding Edwin. It was easy, convenient, and it made me feel needed. Also, what if there was some terrible disaster (earthquake? hurricane?) and I couldn't get formula? My anxiety can't handle that possibility, so I'd really rather breastfeed because I'm crazy like that.

So, here he is. Mr. John Hopson Windover, late-term preemie:

zzzzzzzzzzz....

Love,
Fluffy

He broke the lease!

2011-08-17T22:08:00.000-04:00

Dear Diary,

John Hopson Windover was born on August 12 at 3:33 pm, weighing 6 lbs 1 oz! He was five weeks early but is fine and only had to stay in the NICU a few hours for observation. He is cute and sleepy and occasionally hungry, but mostly sleepy, so I spend a lot of time annoying him so he'll wake up and eat.

I have no pictures because I can't find the stupid cable, a situation I hope to remedy soon. Edwin has been very sweet to his brother. We have only had one punching incident, but it was totally an accident and John slept right through it.

My labor was 11.5 hours from start to finish and wow, was it boring being in the delivery room all that time. Good thing there was an Anthony Bourdain marathon on tv and a chatty nurse. Anyway, labor was long and boring until I finally got to 9.5 centimeters, when it became fast and very, very painful. Thankfully delivery was quick. Oh, don't get me wrong, I had an epidural. But it didn't take on my left side and I didn't want to top it off because I wanted it over with and when you feel like you are being ripped in half that really helps you to push harder. Et voila!

We are so happy he's here! He is sweet, and though I never expected a preemie, I was ALL DONE with being pregnant so it all worked out. The BHE thinks John's pretty cool too.

Love,
Fluffy

The bad roommate

2011-08-11T21:13:00.000-04:00

Dear Diary,

Here’s what Baby Brother has been doing inside my belly: “Move over, bladder, I’m trying to do my neck rolls! I can’t spread out my yoga mat; who left this rib here? Let me just kick it out of the way… umph, it won’t MOVE, WTF? Ooooooh, I want ice cream! Right now! Yes, I know I am pushing your stomach up into your throat with my legs, just eat it and suffer the consequences, woman! Hiccup, hiccup, hiccup.”

It’s kind of like having a bad roommate, and your lease is up in a month. You’re just trying to get through the next few weeks with no drama but he is driving you SO CRAZY leaving his empty diet pepsi bottles and knitting needles between the couch cushions and cooking weird things that smell bad and making that annoying “choo choo choo” sound when he walks into a room. And, you know, you kind of like him and you’re sure you’ll be friends once you’re not living together anymore but ugh you cannot stand another MINUTE with him in your space, oh my GOD!

So that’s where we are, Baby Brother and I. We just have to get through this next month. I just have to smile and put up with the empty diet pepsi bottles. He will move out and get his own place right next door. I’ll let him keep all the stuff he “borrowed” and I’ll even give him half the security deposit, even though I’m the one who'll get stuck moving all his stuff out and cleaning the whole apartment.

Love,
Fluffy

34 weeks

2011-08-04T20:07:00.000-04:00

Dear Diary,

First of all, Edwin is surly. Here is an exchange we had last night. We were all settling in to watch some Pingu. Edwin with his milk, I with my lemonade, and the BHE with his whiskey (hey, at least one of us should be able to enjoy a stiff drink now and then.) So I said, "Hey, we all have our beverages!" And Edwin said, "Mom, they're just drinks." They grow up so fast... into 14 year-old girls.

Second, I started getting paranoid that my doctor's sole goal in life is to give me a c-section. (Don't worry, the BHE talked me down from this particular ledge.) But let me explain my crazy. The hospital where I'm delivering has the highest c-section rate in the state. When Edwin was born, the cord was around his neck and his heart rate kept dipping and the doctor was like, "we might have to go down the hall..." And I was like oh no we won't and I pushed that baby out toot sweet. But there was pitocin involved. At some point I was given pitocin to, and I quote my OB, "get this party started."

Now, my memory of Edwin's birth is fuzzy. I don't know what happened when. I was only in the delivery room for about 3 hours and I was terrified the whole time so it's all kind of a blur. But I started wondering whether they gave me the pitocin before or after his heart went weird. Because there are c-section conspiracy theorists out there who say that some doctors push pitocin to deliberately put the baby into fetal distress so that they have a reason to do a c-section so that they can get home and watch CSI.

Now I'm not a home-birther type or even a natural childbirth type. But this issue had me all worked up and paranoid and I started telling the BHE we should just have the baby at home in the kiddie pool. But then the BHE reminded me that no OB is going to deliberately put my baby in distress and then chase me with a scalpel. And that they gave me the pitocin AFTER his heart rate went wonky. I even saw the doctor in question today and told him I was freaked out by the whole experience last time and that I definitely did not want a c-section and reminded him that he could just tivo CSI if everything takes too long. He reassured me that everything should go smoothly and he understands that I don't want a c-section and to please relax, insane pregnant person.

I would also like to say that obviously, a c-section is fine if the baby is in serious danger. Do what you gotta do, duh. But it just seems to me that sometimes the doctors will suggest a c-section when it's not exactly an emergency and some women are like well, OK, let's just go ahead and do that. I just want my doctors to know that I am not one of those women. Because I am WAY MORE scared of surgery than of pushing a baby out.

OK, enough about that. Here's a picture of Edwin pretending that this hose sprinkler thing is his microphone. In front of a party full of strangers.

Love,
Fluffy

It's not the heat, it's the... no, it's definitely the heat.

2011-07-21T21:15:00.000-04:00

Dear Diary,

Heat wave. 100 degrees. Feel like a big hot fat walrus. Except, that walrus is probably more comfortable than I am right now. Complaining! I am doing it.

On the other hand, this pregnancy is basically OK. No stretch marks, no swelling, no 'beetus, reasonable weight gain, etc. I can't complain too much. Lots of people have really sucky pregnancies and lots of problems and I feel very grateful so far not to have those, knock on wood and all that.

But I can still complain about the heat.

Love, Fluffy

The week in review

2011-07-14T21:09:00.000-04:00

This week, Edwin:

- got a black eye from jumping off the front porch steps
- flushed a pair of underwear down the toilet, at my parents' house
- climbed on top of our mantle and "dropped" a ceramic candle holder on the floor
- dumped a glass of water onto my laptop
- refused to put on pants, ever, and continually ran out the front door pantsless

And now I know that yeah, "terrible twos" is actually a thing. Also boys are insane and they literally (literally) bounce off the walls.

(He's still cute, though.)

30 weeks

2011-07-06T21:21:00.000-04:00

Dear Diary,

I'm 30 weeks pregnant now, which is awesome because yay, our baby will be here soon! And also scary because wow, our baby will be here soon. Not prepared in any way. No room, (eh, he'll stay with us for a while and then we'll figure something out) no crib, (Edwin is still sleeping in it as a toddler bed) no clothes that weren't Edwin's. In fact, no nothing that wasn't Edwin's. I'm giving him a complex and he's not even born yet! I am considering buying a mei tai baby carrier thing. But I haven't yet. I think I'm in denial? Anyway, my wonderful friends are throwing me a shower this weekend so I'm sure he'll get a few outfits to call his own. And he will have a different name than Edwin and a different birthday, though even that is no guarantee because he's due Sept. 13th and Ed's birthday is the 16th.

Anyway, we went to the beach! And it was fun and Edwin actually enjoyed it (unlike last year when he was a total weenie about the sun and the sand and the water and pretty much everything beach-related). But his favorite part was skee ball. He asked to play skee ball constantly, even though he would lose interest after about 3 seconds.

OK, picture time.

Here is Edwin waiting for some fish n chips.

Here we are on the beach, enjoying some sandy goldfish crackers.

Here's Ed and his dad, beach combin'.

Here's Ed eating a cupcake, which has nothing to do with the beach at all.

Love,
Fluffy

She should win a prize

2011-06-23T21:00:00.000-04:00

Dear Diary,

So far, I have received fewer annoying pregnancy comments this time around. I think the judgy/inappropriate people prefer to prey on first-time pregnant women; they are easy targets, all nervous and naive. Second time around, people know they can't get away with as much nosy questions and unwanted advice.

Although I have received fewer comments this time, the comment I received yesterday was by far THE WORST I've ever received. Yes, even worse than when a coworker told me that if I don't take my prenatal vitamins, my baby won't be healthy and I won't be able to eat any junk food.

I was in the kitchen, getting some coffee. (OK, I was really buying raisinettes out of the vending machine. OK? I eat junk food, so sue me.) A coworker comes in. We will call her ~~Rude Nosy Cow~~ Alice.

Alice: Are you EVER going to get big??? God, look at you! You're tiny! How far along are you?

Fluffy: 28 weeks.

Alice: Is everything OK? I mean, is the baby OK???????

Fluffy: Yeah, everything is fine. I'm just... small? I guess?

Alice: But this is your SECOND! Are you sure there's nothing WRONG? I was huge at 28 weeks!

Fluffy: [What can you say to this? I had no idea what to say, so I just sort of stood there smiling and kind of shrugging.]

Why do I even go into to the work kitchen at all? Haven't I learned not to go in there ever? That most annoying things happen in the work kitchen, that the most annoying people linger there and accost you with bizarre food habits and misplaced concern about the health of unborn children?

But I need my coffee and raisinettes.

Love,
Fluffy

26 week update and cheating on medical tests

2011-06-12T21:36:00.000-04:00

Dear Diary,

26 weeks of the pregnant. I feel like a McMansion, but according to pictures and other people I don't look nearly as big as I feel.

Ratio of appetite vs. tolerance for food in my stomach: unbalanced

Patience for toddler shenanigans: scant

Number of Busytown Mysteries episodes I let Edwin watch this week so I could get a nap: MANY

Number of naps I was actually able to take: NONE

The weather in City B: unbearable and being a total douche

OK, I don't want to complain too much. I generally feel pretty good. Edwin is generally hilarious and fun to be around. So instead, I'll tell the story of how I cheated on my glucose tolerance test.

A little background here. At my first glucose tolerance test (when I was pregnant with Edwin), nobody told me how drinking 50 grams of glucose on an empty stomach first thing in the morning can make you feel like you're going to pass out and die. So I was a little taken aback by that, and when I mentioned feeling like I might pass out and die when my OB came into the room, she waved me off and basically said, "Well, DUH."

So this time around, I started dreading the glucose test. It was an irrational amount of dread, as in I dreaded this test more than I dread the pain of childbirth. I considered refusing it, but I didn't want to be labeled a difficult patient. I'm sure they've already flagged my file "UNSTABLE", and I just don't want to make any more trouble. So I went, and brought the BHE and Edwin with me.

First of all, it took me way longer than 5 minutes to drink that crap. I was drinking it pretty slowly, and trying to entertain Edwin at the same time. I was also sipping from a water bottle the whole time, thinking that maybe this would help me not feel so sick. After about 15 minutes, I had maybe two or three gulps of stuff left, and Edwin had to go to the potty. So I took him to the potty (wait, I forgot that I am an adult there for a second. I took him to the bathroom). While we were in there, I checked around for hidden cameras (Because I don't know, I guess part of me imagines that maybe my OB practice spies on you in the bathroom to make sure you don't cheat on your pee test or your glucose test? That's normal, right? No? OK.) and then I dumped the rest of the crap down the sink.

Then while I was sitting in the waiting room, waiting my hour to process all the delicious delicious glucose, the nurse saw my water bottle. She said, "Are you here for your glucose?" I said, "Yeah." She said, "You're not supposed to be drinking that." I said, "Oops." (Did you know that you aren't supposed to drink water? I didn't know that. Really, I didn't.)

Anyway, I didn't feel sick during the test like last time. And what this means is that I am selfish and care more about my physical comfort than I do about finding out whether I actually have gestational diabetes. Also, I passed. Because of course I did, because I threw the test. So I guess if I really do have gestational diabetes and have to push out a 10 lb baby, it will serve me right. But at least I didn't feel sick during the test.

Love,
Fluffy

What are the chances?

2011-05-31T21:51:00.000-04:00

Dear Diary,

What are the chances that a pregnant woman has never had chickenpox, and never been vaccinated? Slim. And yet, I am that woman. What are the chances that this vulnerable pregnant woman would then go to a party and unknowingly hug someone with shingles? Twice? Very, very slim. And yet, I am also that woman.

Long story short, I've been exposed. My OB sort of said that my risk of infection is small (since it's not like I was massaging her festering sores or anything). But then he said that if I did get sick, the baby would be fine but it could be VERY VERY DANGEROUS for me because I could get varicella pneumonia and die. Thanks, doc! That's JUST what I needed to hear.

Well, at least this worry will trump all other pregnancy worries for the next (wait, let me count) 18 days. Oh, unless I get sick with the pox during the incubation period and then die of pneumonia.

Also, Edwin has only had diarrhea like maybe once in his life (after a too-much-chocolate-pudding situation). He is very regular. Until this, the third day of no diapers when he developed a case of the 'rrhea. Let me just tell you, changing poopy diapers on a 2.5 year old is no fun. Cleaning up diarrhea when your 2.5 year old didn't make it to the potty is EVEN LESS FUN.

Someone, please tell me I won't get varicella pneumonia and die? I'm not liking my odds here. Kthx.

Love,
Fluffy

In the work kitchen

2011-05-26T20:52:00.000-04:00

Dear Diary,

Sharing a common kitchen with coworkers annoys me under normal circumstances. Add pregnancy to that, and I’m ready to kill anyone within 2 feet of me in there. Personal space issues aside, people just don’t know how to act in a work kitchen. Here’s a tip: Get in, get out, no loitering. More specifically:

DO NOT comment on other peoples’ food. And definitely do not grab someone else’s Tupperware to inspect their breakfast and ask whether that is turkey bacon, and how did they cook those eggs?

Do not block a free microwave by standing in front of it and frosting a cake. (wtf?)

Do not spend a disproportionate amount of time washing one small piece of Tupperware and one plastic fork (FOUR MINUTES OH MY GOD IT’S CLEAN ALREADY, MOVE ON)

Do not stand in the middle of the kitchen to eat your yogurt, when you really have no other reason to be in the kitchen. That’s what your desk is for. Unless you sit next to me and are a loud yogurt eater, or a yogurt container scraper. Then no yogurt permitted.

Do not talk to yourself while you decide what kind of snack to get out of the vending machine.

Also, do not hum.

Trust me; I really, really couldn’t care less about your diet. So stop talking to me about it.

Yes, we all know the coffee machine sucks and that they don’t replenish the paper towel supply quickly enough. Do we really have to mention it just to have something to say?

Don’t get me started on the strange things people bring in from home to heat up in the toaster oven. Just spring for a lean cuisine, k?

Love,

Fluffy

He's still cute, imo.

2011-04-29T20:51:00.000-04:00

Dear Diary,

I just realized that it's been a while since I've posted any photos of Edwin. This is partly because I do not have an efficient system for taking, downloading/uploading/storing photos. I have a crappy camera, ancient laptop, no smart phone-type device, and little interest in sitting in front of the computer for hours trying to download crappy pictures (my camera sucks and every picture I take is terrible). I know, poor me! I am just not technologically savvy, it's never gonna happen. I'm too cheap for all that and besides, I'd rather complain.

But here are some pictures anyway.

Here is Edwin seeing the sonogram pictures of his baby brother, who he already finds, like, totally boring.

Dyin' eggs.

Findin' eggs.

Lookin' handsome.

Love, Fluffy

I will never have to put tights on a toddler.*

2011-04-11T19:23:00.000-04:00

Dear Diary,

We had the BIG SONOGRAM today, and it's a total bro-fest up in there. When I first found out I was pregnant, I really hoped for a girl. Pink! Ribbons! Ruffles! Tutus! But for the past few weeks, I had been thinking it would be cool, and in some ways easier, to have another boy. So I am really happy (I would have been happy with a girl too, duh.) And now that I know, and have seen him (totes cute, natch) I just cannot WAIT for him to get here in September.

Love,
Fluffy

*Unless, of course, one of my boys wants to wear tights. Which I'm totally cool with. Whatever floats your boat, dude.

Rejected.

2011-03-31T21:27:00.000-04:00

Dear Diary,

I wrote this little stupid piece and submitted it to Urbanite Magazine. They rejected it so I'm posting it here because it's my blog and I can post my crappy writing if I want to. So there.

“Mommy, I’m scared.” My two-year old son reaches for me. He buries his head in the crook of my neck, his tiny hands grasping my hair, his breath quick and shallow in my ear. He is terrified.

“What are you scared of, honey? There’s nothing to be scared of,” I say. He holds on tighter, his feet trying to find traction on my torso. He’s desperate, desperate to get closer, to feel safe. Each time I ask him to tell me what he’s scared of, he holds tighter, he buries deeper, he breathes faster. As if giving his fear a name will bring it nearer, make it more real.

“No witches in here,” he whispers. It’s a statement; it’s a question. He’s trying to assure himself, but he wants me to tell him. Tell him there are no witches.

“No, honey. There are no witches in here,” I tell him. I’ve just read him a story and turned out the light. He requested that I lie down with him for a little while, a request that I always indulge. I think of my father, who would sit with me at night, when I was scared.

“Pretend you’re a piece of spaghetti. Or a bowl of jello,” he would say. A silly game, I thought. I didn’t know then, why he would say this. That this silly game was my father’s attempt to calm a nervous child. Trying to find the magic words to calm a child's fear.

I know this now, as I sit with my own son, trying to find the magic words. There are no witches. But it is real, the fear he feels. I can feel it in his breath, in his grip. I can feel his heart racing. It doesn’t matter what it is, witches, dragons, bears. A child or an adult. Fear is the same. I know it. I know how it feels. And it breaks my heart a little, that he knows how it feels too.

I know that through his life, he will have fear. Of things real and imagined, things large and small. I know that. Someday he will have to learn to comfort himself. I won’t always have the magic words to calm him. But right now, I do. So I stroke his back and sing, feeling him slowly relax his grip on me. He is breathing deeper now, feeling safer. There are no witches.

I'm so out of the loop

2011-03-28T09:20:00.000-04:00

Dear Diary,

It has been three years since I had a baby. In baby gear trend time, that is like a whole generation. I have no idea what the new trends for baby gear are today. Not that I follow baby gear trends, but sometimes products come out and you're like, why didn't they have these when I had my baby? Like muslin swaddling blankets. Where were these when Edwin was born? I'm sure they existed, muslin is not some high-tech fabric, but I never saw them and now they're all the rage.

You moms who have had babies recently: what item of baby gear is new and amazing that I must must have? I'm not planning to buy a bunch of crap for this baby, but if there is something out there that is really great and will make my life easier (I'm very, VERY lazy), I'm willing to drop some coin. Thanks.

Love, Fluffy

What Edwin did today

2011-03-21T17:35:00.000-04:00

- grabbed scissors, ran away with them

- dumped a whole bag of lentils out in the pantry, then methodically dropped them one by one into the attachment slot in the vacuum cleaner

- dumped an entire bottle of chocolate milk down his front (not intentional, still annoying)

- took a bite out of an intricately folded origami box (isn't that paper, like, toxic???)

- yelled "NOOOOOO! MIIIIIIIIIIIINE!!!!!!!!!!" at the checkout girl at Ikea when she tried to scan the bag of frozen meatballs next to him in the cart

- instead of napping, jumped on his bed singing "We Will Rock You" (also, took all his clothes off and then put his pants back on backwards)

And now we're having another one of these things. Thing One and Thing Two.

Love,
Fluffy

Kid likes the rock

2011-03-13T17:33:00.000-04:00

Dear Diary,

15 weeks and feeling better... most of the time. Still in somewhat disbelief of the whole situation. For the past week I've been like, "Jeez, why is my stomach sticking out so much? I look pregnant or something!" Oh, wait...

Edwin is hilarious. He spends a lot of time playing air guitar and singing "Burning Down the House". He knows all the words; it is a little unsettling. I'm not one of those hipster parents who only let their kid listen to music with a favorable review in Pitchfork. He listens to plenty of annoying kid crap, trust me. But he heard the song played by a cover band at a festival once, and he has been singing it ever since. So we let him watch the video, which he now requests several times a day. The kid is just really into the rock. Every time a song comes on the radio that he likes, he wants to know, "Who's dat singin'?"

He is also.. two and a half. So I spend a lot of every day just trying to stop him from breaking things and injuring himself. I often wonder how the hell I'm going to keep him in line when I have a baby attached to my boob all day. Maybe by then he will be more... sensible? Right? Have I mentioned that I am planning to leave my job and stay home after the baby is born? Unless someone wants to provide me with free childcare 3 days a week? Anyone?

Love,
Fluffy

Delicate condition

2011-02-17T19:31:00.000-05:00

Dear Diary,

Not much new here, except, oh yeah, I’m pregnant. Yes. I am, once again, in a family way. It’s very exciting, and I am very fortunate. Having said that, I have also been very sick and miserable. And this is my blog, so I get to complain about it for a while!

The sickness set in right around 7.5 weeks (I’m now at about 12 weeks; wow, I’ve been feeling like I want to die for a whole month!) In fact, I can tell you exactly what I was doing when I started to feel sick. I was waiting in line for my hot dog and french fries (don't judge). And all the sudden, nooooooooooo, I am not wanting that hot dog. Recoil! Recoil in disgust! And since then I have been curled up in a ball trying not to barf. (I have evening sickness. I also had that with Edwin. Nighttime is definitely not the right time around here. I get into bed around 8:00 and whimper, occasionally asking the BHE to bring me toast. I remember telling him several months ago that if I get pregnant, his quality of life will plummet. I was right!)

What is interesting is that in the weeks before I discovered I was pregnant I was ravenously hungry. I could not eat enough. In fact, I gained about 10 pounds during that time. For me, that is a lot. So it all comes out in the wash, I guess. I was getting in my calories while I still could. Though, not that I don’t get in the calories now. I do eat. In fact, I eat a lot. I just feel terrible before, during, and after. And I only want to eat food that is bad for me (this is not a big change from normal circumstances). This is very difficult with a toddler in the house. How can I instill healthy eating habits in my child while I am eating swedish fish and smart food popcorn for breakfast? I’ll tell you how. I have to hide it. Anyway, here is a list of acceptable foods:

coke

french fries (but not if they are seasoned, omg, vom)

toast

egg mcmuffins

special k protein bars

more coke

more toast

peanuts, sometimes

yogurt, sometimes

Foods that can go to hell:

vegetables
anything that resembles a normal, healthy meal that a reasonable adult might eat

So, this situation is taking up all of my time and energy. I am no trooper when it comes to nausea. I don’t handle it well at all. I have been functioning only on a very basic level. I do go to work (though rarely a full day). I do take care of Edwin when I have to, but he has learned to put on his own socks so he is pretty much raising himself at this point. However I do not clean, cook, grocery shop, or do laundry. So our house right now looks like it would if the BHE and Edwin got an apartment together. Ha, that would make a funny sitcom! If I didn’t feel like barfing.

Also, Edwin wants to name the baby Ponyo.

Love,

Fluffy

Sign I've been watching too much Dateline

2011-02-13T21:10:00.000-05:00

Me: If I ever die suddenly under suspicious circumstances, make sure you cry a lot so that they don't suspect you murdered me. But don't cry too much, either. They'll think that's suspicious too.

BHE: OK. I'll try to cry just the right amount.

Killing time

2011-02-02T20:40:00.000-05:00

Dear Diary,

I love my job. I don’t mean that I love what I do. I am a technical writer, which means, as I like to say, that I am technically a writer. Because it’s rare that I have to craft a sentence from scratch. I usually spend the day editing some technical jargon into somewhat understandable prose. Or, typing a bunch of codes into a table. Or, fixing other peoples’ crappy formatting. That sort of thing. I feel grateful to have a job, one that is flexible and not too stressful. I have no problems with the company that employs me. I’ve been here a long, long time, the people are nice, and there are great places to eat lunch. Seriously, the lunch options are endless and varied. What I’m saying is, if you work with me and read this post. Please don’t get me fired. OK? But sometimes I get bored and have to waste time. And here are a few of the ways I do that.

- Our company has an employee directory that includes home address. Sometimes I like to look up peoples’ addresses on zillow.com and see how much their house is worth. Better yet, see when they bought it and for how much. Truly fascinating. Spoiler alert: everyone has a bigger house than mine. Except for the young whipper-snappers who rent apartments.

- I stare out the window for inordinate amounts of time. I am on the 6th floor and have a birds-eye view of several parking lots and alleys. I keep hoping that some day I will see someone get robbed and be the star witness at a big trial.

- Sometimes I like to walk to the art supply store up the street. I am not an artist, but I like to pretend.

- When the weather is nice I often take a stroll to the courthouse garden, which is lovely. You can often overhear a juicy lawyer conversation.

- I hide out in the library across the street quite a bit. And I’m not the only one—there are always other coworkers in there.

- There is a movie theater in our building. I KNOW. I’ve worked there almost 10 years, and not once snuck out to see a movie. But I’ve definitely considered it. Just knowing it’s an option is enough. I wonder if they would let me buy candy and popcorn without seeing a movie? That would be great, to bring popcorn and a box of milk duds to my desk.

- If there is a coworker who I don’t like or seems creepy, I like to search for their name in court records for any past convictions or lawsuits. What? It's public record, and I like to know what kind of people I'm sharing the coffee machine with, you know?

- When I run out of time-wasting options, I sometimes do actual work.

Love,
Fluffy

Grass greener, etc.

2011-01-26T19:27:00.000-05:00

Dear Diary,

We have a small, very small, very very very small house which is small. 1200 square feet (I can't remember if the listing said "bungalow" or "cottage", but "cozy" was definitely in the description). Storage is one of the biggest problems. Not just because of the no closet situation, but also because there is limited space for storage furniture. I know, we're lucky to own a house at all, there are people far less fortunate, blah blah. I just have a hard time remembering that when I go to my friends' houses with huge walk-in closets and rooms where you can actually take three steps without running into a dog or a piece of furniture. Point being, I have house envy of everyone else.

But here is something interesting. Last night I went to a neighborhood book club meeting. The meeting was at my neighbor's house, which is the exact same model as our house (there are four of these houses on our street, and they are by far the smallest. I learned that our houses were built in 1933, while the rest of the neighborhood was built in the 1920's. So they just stuck these smaller ones in between the bigger ones, as an afterthought.)

Where was I? Oh, right. My neighbor's house. It's bigger. I mean, it's not bigger; it can't be. It's the exact same house. But it feels SO much bigger. And nicer. And prettier. Granted, she doesn't have two giant, smelly dogs but she DOES have two pre-teen sons (which is kind of like having two giant smelly dogs, right?) So how does her house seem bigger? And nicer? Is it just because I have poor-me complex and think that everyone has it better than I do? Or is she more skilled at arranging furniture? She even seems to have more furniture than we do. BUT IT STILL SEEMS BIGGER. How is this possible?

This is why I can't go to anyone's house, ever. Even one the exact same size as mine.

Love,
Fluffy

lol

2011-01-12T21:07:00.000-05:00

Dear Diary,

I cannot compose a proper blog post these days because my brain is not working properly. But let me share this, in case you haven't seen it: http://whenparentstext.com. It is amazing. AMAZING.

And it does make me wonder how the whole texting thing has changed how famlies communicate. I don't text with my parents, but if I did, I wonder if they would be this funny? Probably not.

Love,
Fluffy

Christmas is coming! The cornish hens are getting fat.

2010-12-23T10:24:00.000-05:00

Dear Diary,

After a few days of hiding in the closet and sucking my thumb, I have finally come to terms with my Christmas obligations. I started to get things done, much like a normal, functioning adult would do! I did Christmas cards (though I didn't order nearly enough of them, so only a select few made the cut. Sorry. Also, because of a shipping snafu with Walmart (yes, Walmart) I had to GO INTO THE STORE to get them. And I vowed after that trip to never, ever, set foot into a Walmart again. God, what a horrible place.) I even mailed them! I made bourbon balls for my coworkers! I shopped for all the presents and even wrapped them. Like, before Christmas Eve. And I finally did the grocery shopping for Christmas dinner.

Christmas dinner has been a source of much fretting and panic for the past couple weeks. What to make, how to make it, why is life so hard, etc. I first decided on a beef tenderloin. But that's kind of expensive. Then it was going to be ham. But let's be honest here; nobody really likes ham. I mean, do they? And how much ham can you really eat? It's so... uniform. At least with turkey you have a variety of parts to choose from. So then it was turkey. Then, capon. (Yeah, I don't know what that is either, but I briefly considered it after discovering the Safeway had only 24 lb turkeys left and it's only dinner for 5. But whatever a capon is, it was like a million dollars.)

Finally, in a last-minute panic at the Safeway freezer section, I decided on cornish hens. One for each person! Isn't that a great idea? I know! I'm not that crazy about them because they don't tend to have much flavor, but I'm going to baste them in white wine and butter and you can't go wrong there. The novelty of them should provide some distraction from a possibly disappointing taste.

So, everything is somewhat under control. It will be a magical Christmas, at least for Edwin. I swear I didn't spent that much money on his gifts but there seem to be an awful lot of them. And in a brief lapse in judgment I bought him a harmonica and a recorder. Those are the kind of gifts you buy for other peoples' kids, who live miles away and not two feet away from your face.

Merry Christmas!

Love,
Fluffy

Don't do anything rash.

2010-12-09T22:04:00.000-05:00

Dear Diary,

Today Edwin broke out in a rash. This would be the second rash in 3 weeks. Rash, rash. rash. The word's lost all meaning. The first time, it was a bad case of hives, the cause of which we have narrowed down to a virus, ammoxicillin (from an ear infection the week before), or way, WAY too many clementines. But at first, I thought it might be chicken pocks. (Even though he has been vaccinated. Who can remember vaccination schedules at 10:30 PM on a Saturday night?) Do you know what my first thought was? It was not, "Oh no, my poor baby has chicken pocks!" No. It was, "Holy crap, I haven't had chicken pocks. Get him away from me!"

Well, he didn't have chicken pocks. A few days of benadryl and he was back to normal. But today I got the call from daycare that he had another rash. So this time I didn't mess around; I took him straight to the ped. Against my better judgment actually, because once I saw the rash in question it looked to me more like a minor irritation, perhaps dry skin from cold weather. But then the pediatrician raised his eyebrow and said it looked, "suspicious." Suspiciously like STREP. Even though his rapid strep test came back negative, he had no fever and no complaints (other than complaining about the old dude poking and prodding around his rashy bits and sticking a giant Q-tip down his throat).

So... we're on a round of antibiotics and have cancelled weekend plans. All because of a stupid rash that is probably (hopefully) due to the new laundry detergent I bought, or perhaps due to yesterday when he insisted on taking a shower with me and I may have used my regular soap on him. We may never know.

Love,
Fluffy

Uh, what?

2010-12-01T20:34:00.000-05:00

Dear Diary,

Just a few of the strange things Edwin has been saying lately:

"Mommy, I wanna take your head off. It's dirty. (?)

"Mommy, are you have some boobs?" (He says this every morning while I'm getting dressed. I don't know what to say. Um, yes?)

"Mommy, are you wearin' underwears?" (Clearly, we have no boundaries.)

"Daddy, are you speak French?" (?)

"Sing it in your teeth!" (This means to sing the words to a song instead of humming it. I mean, duh.)

"Mommy/Daddy, are you happy?"

"Mommy, are you love cake?" (Meaning, do you love cake? We have some subject/verb agreement problems, with adorable results.)

"I have hair in my eyeballs."

"Mommy FIX IT!!!!" (He yells this several times a day.)

And as I write this, he keeps getting up out of bed to come into the office. He brings a different item with him each time: pillow pet, teddy, stuffed elephant, blanket, plastic horse. So it's pretty cute even while being completely annoying. I am doing the supernanny thing of unceremoniously putting him back in bed but he keeps doing it. Over and over. Surely he will tire of this activity. Right?

Wishing I could lock my precious son in his room,

Fluffy

Help!

2010-11-30T21:19:00.000-05:00

Dear Diary,

We're hosting Christmas for the BHE's family. I talked a big game about how I would looooooove to have everyone at our house instead of travelling. "Yes, please just come and stay with us! I will cook a turkey and play Christmas carols on the piano and there will be cookies and mulled wine!" But now they have called my bluff and are actually coming.

I have never roasted a turkey. (Other, smaller birds, yes. But never a giant turkey. Just the thought of having to man-handle that thing is intimidating. Like that commercial a few years ago with the woman on the phone staring at the business end of a turkey and saying, "You put the what? In the what what?" That's me.) I don't really have adult things like a nice tablecloth or napkin holders or serving dishes. I mean, I have all that stuff. But I don't use it. Because we never really have family functions at our house. Until now!

I'm making it sound like it's this huge giant family when really, it's only the BHE's mom and his brother. But if you saw the size of our house compared with the size of our dogs you would also be alarmed. Add to that a Christmas tree and a room full of toddler toys (not to mention the actual toddler) and you've got a crowd.

I'd better start mulling the wine now.

Love,
Fluffy

Messmaker

2010-11-17T20:50:00.000-05:00

Dear Diary,

What is it with toddlers and making messes-- willfully, compulsively, even gleefully? It's just amazing. I'm no neat freak (at least, I never was before having Edwin). But I do have limited tolerance for chaos in my surroundings, whereas Edwin seems to court it. Books on a shelf? Pull those out! Stack of books? Knock those down! Pile of clean laundry? Fling that shit around the room! I see that you're trying to clean the kitchen floor. Wait while I pour my juice on it first. ON PURPOSE.

And then there are the mealtime messes. At what age does it become unpleasant to have one's hand/face/eating surface covered in some kind of food mess? Because Edwin isn't there yet. Well, he will demand that I clean off his hands if he gets pudding on them or something. But he doesn't yet have the sense to avoid getting the pudding on them in the first place. Like, don't stick your hand in the pudding cup, and then hold it up and say, "Mommy!!! Wipe my hand off!"

I know, I know. I should enjoy every precious moment of Edwin's childhood. And I do. I just wish childhood was a little tidier.

Love,
Fluffy

Wanna go Hawoweeeeen!

2010-11-02T20:50:00.000-04:00

Dear Diary,

Halloween over here was a huge success. Edwin was INTO IT. I probably had as much fun as he did. We made those woven construction paper place mats in black and orange! We roasted pumpkin seeds! We put out a giant fake spider! The BHE carved pumpkins! We tricked and treated! It was great. Our neighborhood does the best Halloween. It was, dare I say it... magical.

It helped to have a couple seasoned trick-or-treaters in our party. (It also helped to have beer for the adults.) Ed's buddy down the street came with us. He is five; he is awesome; Edwin would follow him anywhere. And he was Zorro! How great is that?

Another buddy of his joined us as well. Here she is trying to hold her ears to block the noise of Petey, our black lab, who was going completely insane with the excitement.

Here's our little Pooh Bee (Winnie the Pooh, dressed as a bee! My mother-in-law bought this costume and wow, is it cute.) all tuckered out from the festivities.

He got a pretty decent haul for a two-year old on his first run. Sadly, I will have to confiscate the FULL SIZE butterfinger. But when he's older, I'm sure that house will be known as the People Who Give Out Full Size Butterfingers. While we will probably be known as the People Who Give Out Lots of Chocolate at First But Then Start Giving Out Crappy Dots Because They Didn't Buy Enough of the Good Stuff.

Love,
Fluffy

Admittedly, it IS kind of funny.

2010-10-27T20:22:00.000-04:00

Dear Diary,

I wish I could tell you that Edwin was done with talking about boobs. That it was just a fleeting weekend fancy. But no, no it wasn't. Edwin has been talking about boobs for well over a week. Specifically, my friend M's boobs. "M has boobs, mommy. M has BOOOOOOOBS." I don't understand why he is obsessed with this particular friend's boobs. I don't go around talking about them or anything (though, in all fairness, she does have a spectacular rack).

Tonight at dinner I found myself in a dispute with my two-year old about whether talking about boobs was funny. He was again waxing poetic about M's boobs and I said, "Edwin, it's not nice to talk about people's boobs." (I don't know what else to say, really. I'm not sure he can yet grasp the concept of objectifying women, though times like this make me wonder.)

Edwin: "It's funny. Hee hee hee."
Me: "No, it's not funny."
Edwin: "Funny."
Me: "Not funny, sweetheart."
Edwin: "M HAS BOOOOOOBS!!!!"

I give up.

Love,
Fluffy

Huh. Guess he does listen to me afterall.

2010-10-21T09:09:00.000-04:00

Dear Diary,

It is amazing to me how much Edwin remembers and picks up on. I guess it shouldn't be that amazing; he does seem to be fairly intelligent despite my constant worries to the contrary (There's lead paint in our house! I had that weekly glass of wine while I was pregnant! I never took DHA or whatever it is you're supposed to take to make sure your baby comes out smart! I ate tuna fish while nursing!!!!!) Sometimes I just don't realize that he listens to what we're saying, even if we're not talking directly to him. Take yesterday, for example.

Long story somewhat shorter, we are in the process of buying life insurance and they are giving me all kinds of crap about my medical history (And by medical history, I mean hypochondria. But the life insurance company doesn't seem to make the distinction.) The salesman who I've been working with emailed me the other day asking when was my last mammogram. So I was relating this story to the BHE while Edwin was playing nearby, and I said, "I don't want some DUDE who is not even my doctor asking me about my boobs! You know????" Edwin ran over to me and shouted with glee, "Boobs!!! Boobs, Mommy! BOOOOOOOOOOBS!!!!!!!" like it was the most wonderful word he'd ever heard. Like he'd been waiting his whole life to hear this word and repeat it at the top of his lungs. This caught me off guard and, being the mature adult that I am, I totally fell out laughing.

So, there's another gem I have to worry about him shouting out in Old Navy.

Love,
Fluffy

Or is it Let's Get Physical?

2010-10-14T20:29:00.000-04:00

Dear Diary,

It may come as no surprise to you to learn that I am a germophobe (Ha, the spellchecker just suggested some much more entertaining words like gramophone, Anglophobe, and homophobe. No, I'm not a homophobe, unless that homo has the stomach virus.) Let's just say that during the swine flu epidemic, I questioned the necessity of going to work or the grocery store, or really leaving the house at all. (I still did all these things, of course. But were it not for the BHE I might be raising Edwin on a deserted island. Except that would have required that I get on a plane, which is hard for me under normal circumstances, and would have been impossible during an outbreak of a killer virus. And also, what about all those tropical diseases? You see? NOWHERE IS SAFE.)

So, back to that homo with the stomach virus. I have a terrible fear of the stomach virus. Like, completely irrational. Well, not completely irrational, because it is likely that in the course of Edwin's childhood he will indeed contract some viruses. But my fear of what may transpire during the course of one of these viruses is indeed irrational. WE WILL ALL DIE, but perhaps more importantly, I WILL HAVE TO CLEAN UP POOP AND VOMIT. Not sure where I'm going with this, in fact I'm one of those people who begins to feel sick even pondering the possibility of this type of sickness so I'm not sure why I'm writing about it. But this week, one of our lovely daycare workers had to leave early because she became ill. With some sort of stomach problem. Then she was there the next day. So, because I've read way too much about this subject, I know that these viruses remain contagious up to 10 days after one feels better. So I almost stayed home from work today like a crazy person to keep Edwin away from possible infection. The BHE talked me down, of course, reminding me that we can't keep Edwin in a bubble and we have responsibilities and blah blah rational adult talky points blah blah.

So I put on my big girl panties and sent Edwin off to daycare anyway, worrying the whole day about who was preparing his lunch, and did she wash her hands? Like, did she wash them while singing the whole alphabet song? (Or is it the happy birthday song? Or is it Stayin' Alive? No wait, that's what you sing while you're giving CPR, right? How am I supposed to keep all this straight? God forbid someone drops dead and I can't give CPR because I don't remember which song to sing while I do it.)

Point being, I told the BHE that since he made me send Edwin to daycare, if illness does strike, he'll have to be the one to clean it up.

Love,
Fluffy

Diction

2010-10-08T07:24:00.000-04:00

Dear Diary,

The other day, my mother was over. We were playing with Edwin, and I found myself translating for him, as I do often. Oh, he said he wants you to put on his shoe. He wants you to sing that again. He said yesterday he fell down and got a boo boo. That sort of thing. He talks a lot these days, but not everything can be easily understood by anyone but us.

When Petey, our black lab, walked by, Edwin shouted triumphantly, "Petey's PENIS!!!

"Now that I understood," my mom said.

Love,
Fluffy

Two

2010-09-16T20:37:00.000-04:00

Dear Diary,

My baby is two years old today. A kid! And today was the first time I heard him refer to himself in the first person. Instead of Eddin want this and Eddin wanna do that, he pointed to the laundry basket and said, "I want that." I am not ready for this development. Me prefer grammatically incorrect toddlers.

He's just so OLD all the sudden. Running around and counting and asking for things and not wanting to be carried and asking "what IS that?" and wanting to climb up into the car seat himself. When I tucked him in tonight I said, as usual, "Night night little one, I love you."

And he said, "See ya."

Love, Fluffy

He also counts to eleven.

2010-09-07T21:15:00.000-04:00

Dear Diary,

I guess what I've been experiencing would be considered writers' block if I were an actual writer). Every time I think about sitting down to write something my brain turns to clay and I go watch Wipeout instead. So maybe I'll let Edwin do the talking. Here are some of his current sayings:

"Eddin a WANT it. Eddin a HODE it." (I want that. I want to hold it.)
"Tum up! Tum up!" (Pick me up.)
"Eddin a go een durr." (I want to go in there.)
"Mommy sit flurr." (Will you please sit here on the floor with me?)
"NO dis one." (This song sucks; next track.)
"Mommy go in other room." (I want to bro out with Daddy, no chicks allowed.)

So he is talking a lot, and it's pretty cute. And it's hard not to laugh at all the rude and/or inappropriate things he says. Like when I ask him if he went poop, and he says, "No, fart." Or when he orders us about and I tell him to please ask nicely, and he says, "Nice-LEEE" with a smile.

But for now, it's still pretty cute.

Love,
Fluffy

Not dead, just lazy.

2010-08-29T21:23:00.000-04:00

Dear Diary,

I am alive! I've just been feeling really unmotivated and kind of having a lazy summer. I have more to talk about, but for now I just want to point out how awesome the Van Halen song Runnin with the Devil is. But only when you stumble upon it at night in the car on the way home.

Love,
Fluffy

Too Hot (Too Hot)

2010-06-24T20:41:00.000-04:00

Dear Diary,

It is hot here in City B. Really, really hot. I have had little motivation to do much at all besides complain about the heat. In our house, we have no central air. Instead, we have window units in all of the rooms. Sounds OK, right? Well, the problem is that our house is not wired for such electrical extravagances, so we cannot have more than 2 of them running at once, or a fuse blows. So that means staying in one room with the door closed until you have to go into another room, when you take everything you might need for the next hour or so with you. I am exagerrating only slightly. And can you believe that we have no wireless internet, so when we want to use the computer we actually have to get up and go into the office and sit at a desk, like it's the year 2000 or something? My life is so haaaaaaaard!

Tomorrow it's supposed to cool off and be ONLY NINETY. Oh good, because I was just about to put away my winter coat.

Love, Fluffy

Holiday

2010-06-01T20:50:00.000-04:00

Dear Diary,

This holiday weekend was really great. There were chickens and llamas, meals shared, and toddler bonds forged in baby pools over juice boxes and ice cream bars.

(I love how Edwin looks like he is sucking in his gut. Gotta impress the ladies.)

A big thing with Edwin right now is "on" and "off". Very concerned with what is on and what is off, the turning on and off of things, remarking when something that was previously on is now off, and vice versa. This goes for appliances and lawn mowers, but also for articles of clothing and jewelry. (Much to my mother's alarm, he often points to her earrings and says, "Adden [Edwin] ON!" indicating that he would like to wear them.OMG boys don't wear earrings what are you doing to this child? She also bristles at his frequent use of the phrase "baboo bash" because boys don't take bubble baths. I suppose I shouldn't mention to her how he often selects my shoes in the morning...

Edwin has impeccable manners, and is becoming a very gracious host. If you were to come visit, he might say, "How lovely to see you. Won't you please sit down and make yourself at home?" I mean, that is what he says in his mind. The crude execution of this sentiment is to pull you over to his toys, yank down on your pants to make you sit down, point at your shoes and say, "Off."

He's so much fun, he's a total joy. He doesn't even throw tantrums! (Cue tantrum, preferably in Safeway checkout...)

Love,
Fluffy

The Shoes of the Fisherman

2010-05-14T20:52:00.000-04:00

Dear Diary,

I hate Walmart. And not just because it's an evil multinational corporation who won't fill birth control prescriptions and puts everyone else out of business, etc. etc. I just hate going there. I'm not a big box store person. I prefer small stores or, better yet, online stores that don't require that I get out of my chair and put on pants to shop. But a couple months ago, we had a toddler shoe crisis, in that we had no shoes for Edwin. Like, at all. He had shoes, but they were getting too small and he had nothing to wear in the mud, and nothing that didn't require socks and... I just freaked out and decided he needed a million pairs of shoes ASAP.

Edwin has small feet for his age; he's only a size 4 (actually more like 3.75) and many of the choices for size 4 are "pre-walkers" (whereas my boy is quite post-walking, thank you very much.) Soooo, after many frustrating trips to various shoe stores and finding NOTHING for him, we decided to hit Walmart. And OMG, I found the cutest $10 fisherman sandals for him. Behold:

The BHE calls them mandals. But whatever; Edwin is secure enough in his masculinity that he can totally pull off mandals. He loved them, they were easy to get on and off, they were totally synthetic so you could just hose them down after a muddy day. So of course, he took one off at a party last weekend and now it's gone. GONE. (It was a pretty wild party; it could be anywhere.) The hostess has not seen it, and she is a very neat and organized person and I'm sure she would notice a toddler mandal lying around.

And now I can't find them anywhere. Not Target, not Walmart (I even checked the website; they are "unavailable".) There are similar styles online but they're like $40. Seriously? I barely spend that much on shoes for myself. AND the ones I've seen online don't have the cute stitching. The stitching!
I'm really upset about this for some reason. Really, really, way too upset. Those mandals really pulled his outfits together. Now he's just another toddler in flip flops.

Love,
Fluffy

Chocolate and Nachos

2010-05-09T20:24:00.000-04:00

Dear Diary,

First, an update about the trip to San Diego I mentioned. We are going BY OURSELVES. As in, dropping Edwin off with Grandma and Grandpa. I'm not sure which was more puzzling to me: the fact that this was a possibility, or the fact that it never occurred to me that this was a possibility. You see, I was talking to a coworker about the trip and she said, "So Edwin is staying with your parents?" I just stared at her for a minute, first because I wondered why she would think that we weren't taking him, and then because oh my god, this woman is a genius! Of course! We can go on a vacation by ourselves! Of course we can! Why the hell not? So, that's the plan for now. I'm sure I'll feel guilty about not bringing Edwin, but perhaps that will fade when I get to read an entire magazine. By the pool. Because really, that would be a vacation in itself.

Second, today was Mother's Day and the BHE let me sleep until 8:30 and made waffles. I KNOW!!! Then Edwin picked me flowers and we went to my parents and came home and I had nachos and dark chocolate truffles. I was kind enough to take the pressure off the BHE by buying myself a gift last week. So that was a win win. Win.

Love, Fluffy

Rock Bottom

2010-04-27T19:45:00.002-04:00

Dear Diary,

I have bad eating habits. Very, very bad. The BHE likes to say that I eat like a 5-year old. French fries, grilled cheese, fast food, and anything from a vending machine are among my favorites. I make sure that Edwin eats healthy food but I, on the other hand, can't be bothered. I think this is just one of the many manifestations of my profound laziness. I always figure that I'll start eating healthy one day. Like maybe if I start to get fat, or develop gout, or something.

Today though, I think I hit rock bottom. At work this morning I found myself eating donuts -- wait for it -- from the vending machine. Now, I am no donut snob. While I like a good Dunkin Donut, I do not turn my nose up at 7-11 donuts. Never met a donut I didn't like (except jelly, barf). But these vending machine donuts were... disgusting, waxen rings of death. I was horrified at myself for eating them. Or for even considering eating them. What is wrong with me?

So I threw them out, and sent the BHE an email declaring my renouncing of all junk food! But then I realized I better take it slow, because if I go and renounce all junk food just like that I will starve to death. So I'm starting with vending machine food.

Unless it's Goldberg's Peanut Chews. Those don't count. Or raisinettes. Those really aren't all that bad and that counts as some fruit, right? Oh, and Smartfood popcorn. Because our vending machine rarely has that stocked so when they do you better believe I'm getting it. But other than that... no more vending machine food for me.

Love,
Fluffy

Shouldn't complain, but I will anyway

2010-04-23T19:55:00.004-04:00

Dear Diary,

The BHE has to go to a conference in San Diego in July. He wants Edwin and me to join him. I would loooooooove to go to San Diego. Sun! Beaches! Mexican food! But frankly, how much of a vacation would it be for me having to entertain Edwin by myself for 5 days while the BHE is doing whatever cartographers do at their conferences (see who can draw the best freehand map of the Baltic penninsula?) The idea of it is making me exhausted. And I feel terribly guilty about that. I should jump at the chance to take Edwin on a great vacation. I should have the energy and wherewithal to shlep him around to various sights and beaches without feeling overwhelmed by the prospect. Oh, poor me, I have to go to San Diego. Come on, Fluffy.

Love,
Fluffy

I use the word "word" loosely, of course

2010-03-31T20:13:00.003-04:00

Dear Diary,

I think I should take this opportunity to document the words that Edwin says. If someone were to ask me what his first word was, I would have to say I don't know. Several months ago, he definitely said "dog". But he hasn't said that since; in fact, instead of saying "dog" he actually pants like one, which I don't think counts as language in most societies. Like his "word" for helicopter is just the sound it makes. Also, not a word. BUT, there are a few he actually says with some confidence and that somewhat resemble the English language. So, a list follows, with a translation key!

1. Mama (this can also mean get me more of that, my toy got stuck behind the couch, please give me what you're eating, and get over here)
2. Dada (this he says often with a question mark, when he sees me in the morning but was hoping for the BHE)
3. BAAAAA (ball)
4. off (when turning a toy off)
5. uppah (up; not to be confused with #6)
6. up (cup. the C is silent, but we know what he means)
7. ass (ice: should be interesting when he asks for drinks at parties)
8. umm (arm)
9. babooooo (bubble)
10. Adden (Edwin. For the longest time I didn't know what the hell he was trying to say, until he started saying it when looking at himself in the mirror)
11. Maaa (Grandma)
12. Bappa (Grandpa)
13. Nah nah (no; always said while shaking head emphatically)

I know animal sounds don't count as words, but I'll list them anyway. He does monkey, sheep dog, cow, snake, lion (or anything that is supposed to roar, including dinosaurs, and I'm like, how do you know what dinosaurs sound like?) Strangely, he does not do cat, even though we have two and they are meowing at him constantly.

We have 2 months until the supposed 20-month language explosion, so kid better get cracking. His little girl friends are putting him to shame in the language department. Showoffs.

Love,
Fluffy

On Toddlers and Art Museums

2010-03-27T12:59:00.005-04:00

This appears as a guest post on Charm City Moms, the Baltimore Sun parenting blog by Kate Shatzkin.

The art museums in Baltimore are free these days. I'm sure you DC types are thinking, "Wait, you used to pay to get into museums? Silly Baltimorons." But yes, we used to pay to get into the likes of the Walters Art Museum and the Baltimore Museum of Art. And it wasn't exactly a bargain. So now that it's free admission, taking your child to the art museum on a whim is no longer reserved for the "ladies who lunch" set.

I've taken my 18-month old, Edwin, to the Baltimore Museum of Art on a few occasions since he's learned to walk. We usually go on a Friday morning, and besides a few school groups we are often the only ones there. Edwin LOVES the contemporary art section upstairs. It has touchable sculpture, cool installations, a beaded curtain, and vast expanses of floor that he can run the length of (screeching with glee, naturally). Trust me, after being cooped up in our 1200-square foot Lauraville bungalow, it is a big treat for him.

I am under the impression that this is a kid-friendly museum. The guards have always been very tolerant, indicating that it is OK for Edwin to touch certain things, and not seeming to mind him running from room to room and being a toddler. I've even gotten a few "Aww, he's so cute!" comments from the guards. (Because he is, of course.)

Recently, however, we decided to go on a Saturday. We went early, and while it was not crowded, there were several other patrons. Suddenly we were those parents: the ones who let their toddler run willy-nilly through an art museum using his "outside" voice. There were people there actually trying to contemplate art. And what I might describe as "jubilant" and "adorable" behavior, these patrons might describe as "raucous" and "annoying". So after receiving a couple looks that said, "Your kid is not cute; ever heard of Super Nanny?" we escaped to the sculpture garden where he could run screaming to his heart's content.

The lesson here? The BMA is a great place for toddlers on a weekday. On the weekend, I think I'll stick to the sculpture garden until Edwin masters his inside/outside voice. Or until I become OK with being one of those parents.

"Working"

2010-03-26T11:04:00.004-04:00

Dear Diary,

One day this week I got the dreaded call from daycare (why is it that when I see our caregiver is calling, my heart jumps into my chest and I immediately fear the worst, when usually she is just calling to tell me that Edwin is doing something cute??) Anyway, this time he had run head-first into the front door. Nothing serious at all, but she said it was a VERY loud thud so just to be safe I brought him home. Called the ped, got the skinny on what to look out for in case of head injury (including drowsiness, and of course this happened right before nap time). Anyway, long story short I have to make up a few work hours from home today.

My job is really quite flexible, and I suppose I am lucky to be able to work just 3 days a week and still have money in the bank. I have a "career", I get to run errands at lunch, I get to eat sushi sometimes. But let's face it... I don't really want to have to work at all. I often say that I wish I could find a freelancing gig that I could do from home, but even that is a lie. I don't want to work.

I wonder how many other working moms feel this way, even though they say that they would never want to give up their careers, that they think it's healthy to get out of the house and for their kids to have social interaction at daycare. I used to say all this crap too when I first went back to work, trying to convince myself that I was happy with the arrangement. But now, I feel better just being honest and admitting that I would be totally OK with having no career and hanging out with Edwin all day every day. I suppose there are many women who actually do enjoy their careers. But I wonder how many of them had a choice. For many women, going back to work is not a choice, but just a financial necessity. Because man, if the BHE made enough to support us comfortably, I would be outta there like prom dress.

Love,
Fluffy

A Day in the Life

2010-03-19T20:10:00.007-04:00

Dear Diary,

First of all: Why?

Really, dogs? Coffee filters? There was a box of cookies on the counter you could have had if you had just put in a little more effort.

"Hey, Mom, there's like a HUGE mess in here. I don't know how you're going to clean all this up, but I gotta go poop in my pants and take a nap. So... good luck.

TODDLER ATTACK!

And, snack on the kitchen counter. Because sometimes I'm too lazy to get him all strapped up in his high chair.

Love,
Fluffy

Ding, dong

2010-03-11T20:07:00.002-05:00

Dear Diary,

This song is totally awesome. Listen!

&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;a href="http://cults.bandcamp.com/album/cults-7"&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;Go Outside by Cults&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/a&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;

Love, Fluffy

Sigh.

2010-03-03T19:46:00.003-05:00

Dear Diary,

There is something somewhat depressing and anti-climactic about going to the gynecologist when you're not pregnant. Before I ever got pregnant, I never felt that way, of course. But I was there today, and seeing all the pregnant ladies getting all that attention and special treatment made me really miss those prenatal appointments. Once you've had your baby you're just another boring lady with a vadge. Didn't help that my doctor called me old and basically told me to hop to it if I want to have another baby.

I need to win the lottery first.

Love,
Fluffy

Current Events

2010-02-18T20:42:00.002-05:00

Dear Diary,

Now that I've decided to start reading again, I'm trying to catch up on things that are soooooo 2007. Like TWILIGHT. When everyone was talking about how great and ridiculously addictive these books were, I was like, "No thanks, I'm 32." But ohmygod, totally great and ridiculously addictive. The BHE looked at me as I was finishing it up and said, "Really?" And I was all, "VAMPIRE FIGHT!!!" Can't wait to read the rest. I mean, come on: VAMPIRE/WEREWOLF FIGHT!!!

Then, I read "Tea Time for the Traditionally Built", the latest from Alexander McCall Smith's No. 1 Ladies Detective Agency series (which was apparently also a series on HBO). I hadn't heard of this series, but the book was on a recommended reading shelf and looked charming (I'm a sucker for charming) so I got it. It was nice light reading. Just charming. That's really all I can think of to say. I'm looking forward to reading the rest of these, but the library is being a douche and says they have them when they indeed do not.

Next, Atonement. I never saw the movie because I wanted to read the book, so now I'm reading it so that I can finally watch the movie. Is that wrong? I love me some Kiera Knightly.

Oh my, this weekend Edwin is having his first sleepover at Grandma and Grandpa's house. This so that we can go out and see a friend's band play. The problem is, they aren't playing until 11. ELEVEN. There is little chance I will make it until then. We'll probably end up going to dinner at like 6 and calling it a night. Oh, how times change.

Here's a picture just for shits and giggles:

Love,
Fluffy

Am literate, barely

2010-02-07T20:10:00.006-05:00

Dear Diary,

I read a whole book! This is a huge accomplishment for me. My usual reading list consists of Perez Hilton, Vanity Fair, and the New Yorker, in that order of importance. I may say that I don't have time to read books, but that's not true. I do have time; but I spend that time watching TV.

So I went to the library (the library is so awesome, who knew?) and after much perusing chose On Chesil Beach by Ian McEwan. I have read some of his other stuff (by "some" I mean just one other novel actually, Saturday, also a great read). It looked short and dramatic (kind of like me! ha.) I do recommend it. It's a very quick read-- I read it in its entirety during a bout of insomnia-- and a compelling story. A page-turner, even.

In other news, we had like 28 inches of snow here in City B on Friday/Saturday. Totally insane. Just way, way too much snow.

Love,
Fluffy

SNOWPOCALYPSE, ear infection

2010-02-04T19:56:00.004-05:00

Dear Diary,

Edwin has an ear infection. His first ear infection! The other morning, I noticed some... really gross stuff in his ear. And he seemed like he had a cold, but I sent him to daycare anyway because I'm a selfish working mom. As expected, I got the call around 12:30 that he was ill. And I almost stopped to get candy from the vending machine because I was just about to do that when the sitter called, and I really wanted my chocolate. But I didn't! I'm not that selfish. I high-tailed it over to pick up my snotty, fussy, fevery man.

Went to the pediatrician today. And wow. Edwin sure doesn't like to be prodded or poked. AT ALL. He lost it when they took his temps, and they took it the easy way, under his arm. Then I had to hold him down while the doctor went at his ear with what looked like a crochet hook, trying to dig out all the crap so that he could get a good look in there. It was terrible. Oh, the red-faced screaming. And why do pediatricians make you feel like it's your fault that your 16-month old is being difficult during an exam? Dude, you're sticking a sharp thing in his EAR. His ear that hurts. And he only knows you as "that old dude who sticks me with sharp things".

So, his fever is gone today and he seems much better but now we have to figure out how to put drops in his ears twice a day for a week. Not to mention the antibiotic twice a day for 10 days. Which is sure to bring on the requisite diarrhea, with accompanying diaper rash. SO MUCH FUN CAN'T WAIT!!!

To end on a positive, I'm glad I got this taken care of today, because we here in City B are apparently in for the storm of the century starting tomorrow. People are totally freaking. But I'm just looking forward to a snow day with my dudes. We have milk and beer, so everyone's covered.

Love,
Fluffy

Happy Pappy?

2010-02-02T19:37:00.003-05:00

Dear Diary,

I am intrigued by the Happiness Project. You may not know this, but despite my beautiful son, supportive husband, ideal work schedule, and lack of fat genes, I'm not exactly a happy person. (I may have mentioned that pesky anxiety problem of mine, which I blame entirely.) For starters, I'm a terrible pessimist. For me, it's not so much that the glass is half empty; it's my worry that the glass will break when I pick it up and a shard will fly up and pierce my jugular, killing me instantly. I'd like to work on this. Having gratitude, appreciating life, having hobbies, and all that crap.

I'm not sure that I'm totally committed to starting a "happiness project" per se. But I would like to be happier, and maybe an organized project is the only way I can stick to it? Blah, I don't know. I think I'll start by eating some chocolate chips. But I'd probably just choke on them.

Love,
Fluffy

Golden Arches

2010-01-28T19:49:00.005-05:00

Dear Diary,

There was a time when I thought I would never, EVER feed Edwin anything that I didn't make myself. I'd be reading Super Baby Food, stirring wheat germ into his plain organic yogurt and getting all twitchy worrying about when he became a toddler and people might offer him american cheese, french fries, and store-bought cookies (incidentally, three of my favorite foods). No, I vowed, my precious prince will eat nothing but homemade organic crap that I make myself like a sucker.

Then I woke up and realized that he's already eating all that crap at daycare and can maybe eat frozen pancakes instead of homemade (but only whole grain!) Then I really let loose and let him eat goldfish crackers. Then, tater tots. That slippery slope led right to... MCDONALD'S

"Now here's something I don't see every day."

"Let's give it a whirl..."

"You know Ma, this ain't so bad."

"What's in this thing? This is great."

"Ketchup, you say? Reconstituted onions and corn syrup? Sweet."

Full disclosure: the reason I got him McDonald's on this particular day is that I was the one who wanted McDonald's. And I thought eating it in front of him might have caused a PB&J on whole wheat to be thrown across the room. So, win win.

Love,

Fluffy

For the record, he didn't hit that hard...

2010-01-13T20:23:00.004-05:00

Dear Diary,

Lately when I pick Edwin up at daycare and say, "Are you ready to get your coat on and go home?" he shakes his head no no no. (This is something he started recently, the shaking his head no. It's usually in response to me asking if he wants to do something he does not want to do. But sometimes it's in response to the question, "Did you go poo poo?" when, in fact, it is obvious to everyone around that he did indeed go poo poo. But he hates getting his diaper changed, so it's not that he doesn't understand the difference between yes and no; it's that he's lying.) Anyway, it is cute when he does this at daycare, and it makes me happy because he likes it there so much, so I let him play while I chat with the daycare folks.

Today we went through the whole routine but I was rather anxious to get home because I really had to pee. And I really wanted a beer. So instead of letting him play forever, I picked him up in preparation to make our exit. He didn't like that idea so much.

And so he HIT ME.

In the face.

Now, granted he is only 16 months old (actually, not even). He doesn't understand how to deal with frustration and is just beginning to dabble with the tantrum. He will stomp his feet occasionally or have a cry while rolling around on the ground if I take away something particularly dangerous or mess-producing. But hitting? Is he going to be that kid who hits his mom, like the ones on Supernanny? My sweet little prince? Am I going to be that helpless mom who is all, "OK sweeeeeeeetie honey, precious angel... don't hit mama... OK, you can have another twinkie..." while my kid is running around the grocery store terrorizing everyone? Probably.

Love,
Fluffy

Hardly Working at Home

2010-01-08T15:10:00.002-05:00

Dear Diary,

My parents are here right now, playing with Edwin so that I can get a few hours of work done. So of course, I am instead taking this opportunity to dick around on the internets (which is exactly what I'd be doing if I were in the office). Well, I'm sort of working, but it's hard to concentrate because I find myself listening to everything going on downstairs. Is he wearing them out? Is he being a tyrant? Did he poop and my mom is pretending not to notice? It's really hard to let go of parenting duties when your kid's still in the house.

I'm getting my hair did tomorrow. I really, REALLY need a new look. I'm considering bringing Ed in there to get a little trim. We haven't cut his hair yet, but he's starting to rock a little bit of a mullet. Whenever I say that I'm not ready to cut his hair, the BHE calls me Celine Dion (but by the way, recent tabloid reports indicate that she has finally cut that kid's hair). I wouldn't go that far, it's just that I'm not ready for him to have a little boy cut. I like his little baby curls. But it's a slippery slope, I guess. The other day I caught myself thinking that it's a shame you can't put barrettes in little boys' hair. I mean, how cute are barrettes, not to mention useful for wayward bangs? Why should they only be for little girls? No fair, I say. So maybe it's time for a trim, before I start experimenting with headbands.

Love,
Fluffy

More tea?

2010-01-04T19:20:00.004-05:00

Dear Diary,

So, wow. Really not so much with the blogging recently. I need to get back on the stick! Let's see... Christmas was great: I roasted a duck, Edwin got lots of vehicles and discovered chocolate. My mom got him one of those advent calendars with a piece of chocolate for every day (wtf, she never got me one with chocolate. Mine just had little pictures and I actually got all excited to see what was behind each window. The hardships I endured as a child.)

My job sucks and is boring and although I long to find a freelancing gig so I can be at home, I find myself doing absolutely nothing to make this happen. I just don't know how to go about it, and I guess I'd rather complain about how much I hate going to the office. Is there a way to make money by complaining? Because I'd really clean up with that.

The BHE and I have fully settled into lameness. We've been enjoying quiet evenings at home with our herbal tea for quite some time now, and we finally found a product that seems as though it was created specifically for our lifestyle:

There was talk of us creating a whole Quiet Evening mail-order catalog selling teas, brit wit dvds, snuggies, and other products associated with the sedate lifestyle. But alas, it is trademarked.

And here's Ed, sittin' on the coffee table. Because that's how he rolls. (And because he was just so proud of himself once he figured out how to hoist himself up there, that I had to take a picture before I told him that no, we don't go around climbing on top of coffee tables willy-nilly. I mean, we don't, right?)

Love,
Fluffy

Sold my soul for fourteen cents a card

2009-12-05T09:04:00.006-05:00

peek...

A BOO!!!!!!!

I have been unable to write lately. I don't know why. I actually have to WORK at my job now (I know; wtf) and when I'm not there I'm playing with this guy. He's pretty great. And then when he goes to bed, I cannot waste precious TV time by blogging, or doing anything productive.

Though I did get my Christmas cards out yesterday. We did a cheesy photo card (again) and even though we say we are opposed to Walmart I thought I'd check out their prices, since last year we spent like over $1 a card. OMG, we got our cards for like .14 each or something stupid WITH envelopes. So yes. I got our Christmas cards at Walmart. Because I'm a cheapskate and an asshole. And now everyone knows it because when they arrived I noticed that they say Walmart on the back.

D'oh!

Love,
Fluffy

Rawr.

2009-11-09T15:31:00.005-05:00

Also Halloween...

Most ferocious lion ever! Srsly, ferosh.

OK, maybe not so much.

It's not stalking if you've already met, right?

2009-11-09T15:11:00.003-05:00

Dear Diary,

Why did I only just discover that if I don't run to Edwin the second he wakes up from a nap crying, that he will actually fall back asleep so that I can finish reading my magazine? Duh. I guess I was always so averse to letting my precious widdle widdle baby cry at all, ever. But now, I'll take a minute of crying if I can finish reading about how fat [insert actress] has become and how [insert another actress] lost the baby weight.

Also, we hosted a play date today. Just one little girl, the daughter of an old college friend (thanks, Facebook!) It went great, surprisingly. No dog mauling or other injuries. The gal was smitten with Edwin (natch) and she was really cute and pretty polite and there was only minimal shoving and yelling (on Edwin's part).

And in my ongoing quest to meet more people with kids, I was kind of stalking this couple a few blocks over. I knew they had a kid, they looked young and hip, but I didn't really know how to go about meeting them without looking like a total psychopath, staking out their house or something. But luckily, I ran into the mom when I was walking with Edwin, and she stopped to say hello. So now we are BEST FRIENDS. Kidding, we really only got as far as her giving me her number, which I thought I put into my phone but in my awkward fumbling managed to totally not put into my phone. So I left her a note in her mailbox with my email address. Is that weird?

SAA (Socially Awkward Always),
Fluffy

Also, he dances.

2009-10-29T19:47:00.004-04:00

Dear Diary,

Since when is it OK to use "shrunk" as past tense? I have seen this like 3 times recently in the media AND they just said it on NPR. NPR! Is this one of those things that they decided was acceptable because everyone says it, like "irregardless"? Sloppy, America.

Edwin update: Since he has stopped nursing, his appetite for food is voracious. He points at the refrigerator and yells, like, hey you two, get me something out of that food box. I MEAN NOW! God help you if he spots the bag of goldfish crackers while you're trying to usher him out of the pantry. I mean seriously, we are having to keep our hands and feet out of the way during mealtime.

Also, he loves the kitties and gives them "hugs" (which, as you can see here, means lying completely on top of them until they a. start growling or b. take a swat or c. usually both).

He is very good at both following my instructions and willfully disobeying me. He loves to run around naked after his bath. He loves the game "pat Mama's cheeks" which really entails him slapping my face and then laughing hysterically. He loves when we sing songs to him. He loves Elmo. He loves shoes: the putting on and taking off of shoes, the acknowledgment of other peoples' shoes, the putting of shoes into various receptacles around the house (including a bathtub full of water), the sniffing of stinky shoes. He loves to watch the traffic report with me in the morning and makes car noises when he sees it. He understands everything we say. Well, everything we say to him. I hope to god he doesn't understand everything we say to each other, what with our completely inappropriate sense of humor and foul language.

He's our baby, and he's our little boy. Aaaaa, how can he be both?

Love,
Fluffy

Boobies, Interrupted

2009-10-21T20:35:00.002-04:00

Dear Diary,

This weekend I had to abruptly wean Edwin. So that I can pop Ativan whenever I want. OK, that's not really why. (Well, sort of...) The short story is that this weekend I had a massive panic attack that put me in the hospital with what they thought might be a pulmonary embolism. Obviously, it was not. It was just a huge giant freakout.

I don't want to get into all the details here, but suffice it to say that I have struggled and continue to struggle with anxiety. Big, bad, debilitating anxiety. I've had my ups and downs with it. Several years went by with nary a panic (thanks, Effexor!). I was tooooooootally sane during my pregnancy, without any drugs. But since Edwin was born, it's been creeping back in. Hiding in closets, lurking under the bed. Well, in the past couple weeks it has come completely out of hiding and eaten me up whole. I can't ignore it any longer. I HAVE to beat this and I CANNOT let this get the better of me. I have my beautiful, adorable, innocent son to take care of and God help me, I will kick this disorder's ass.

Is this post about my crazy or about the weaning? Hmm... lets' make it about the weaning. That's a little more lighthearted! But still heartbreaking. I realize that in my last post I talked about weaning. But truth be told I had no intention of doing it anytime soon. Nursing was our thing, man. My little man loved him some boobies and that was just fine by me. Nevermind that he was beginning to make inappropriate advances in public and that in the mornings when I'd let him into our bed to snuggle and nurse he would often kick my underwear off with his feet (I know; what the fuck?)

Point being, I was not ready for this, and neither was he. He's pissed, he's frustrated. He won't snuggle with me. He pounds his fists and sobs pathetically when I say cheerfully, "Mama can't feed you anymore, but you can have milk in your cup!" And it makes me cry when he cries, because I feel terrible and I want nothing more than to give him what he wants.

I know in the grand scheme of things, it is a small thing that he won't remember. And it's a very important step on our journey as mother and child. And like the BHE says, it would have been really awkward for me to go into his dorm room at night to nurse him to sleep. We'll both get over it soon, I'm sure.

But it still sucks.

Love,
Fluffy

Oink?

2009-10-13T19:44:00.002-04:00

Status update:

- BHE recovering from possible H1N1
- I got a new job (same company, yawn)
- I am in denial about how I maybe should be starting to think about possibly beginning the weaning process sometime in the near future, perhaps
- never thought I would be one of those women nursing a toddler, and yet...
- edwin still cute, toddling

Love,
Fluffy

Mama don't want no mess

2009-10-03T09:31:00.003-04:00

Dear Diary,

I was never a neat person. I was never a clean person. I am a slob, I come from a long, proud line of slobs, and I married a slob. The slob runs deep in my veins. Very much with the slob. You get the point. There are two kinds of slobs, I think. Those who are OK with it (mess in sight, mess out of mind), and those who are not (mess out of sight, mess out of mind). My parents are a perfect example of each type. My dad is a sort of happy slob, who doesn't seem to mind chaos around him. He functions just fine in his office, sitting among boxes of birthday cards from 1986 and that Consumer Reports that has the issue about the car seats.

-I'm sure it's around here somewhere, let me find it for you.
-That's OK dad, I think they've probably changed a bit since 1990.

Then of course, while he's looking, he might come across a piece of mail that arrived for me 2 weeks ago, probably my college newsletter, and can't imagine why I don't want to take it home with me. It must be important because it came in the mail. All mail must be saved and sorted through, preferably at the breakfast table, much to the annoyance of my mother, who is the other type of slob.

This other type of slob is one who abhors clutter, but sometimes is powerless to stop it. This slob may have rooms in the house that are perfectly neat and clean, but man, you don't want to open a closet door. I am this type of slob. Many people think that my house is neat, "where is all your STUFF?" Please do not go in my basement, garage, and dear god don't open that drawer, because you might get buried alive in all the crap I'm hiding.

So. I want to battle it. Part of my problem is that our house has no storage. Seriously, there is no coat closet, no linen closet, and no shelves to speak of. I use this excuse a lot. I often ask the BHE, "Aren't you supposed to, like, put up shelves or something?" and he's like, "Hmm. Sounds complicated."

So I want to document my mess. Share the burden.

Mess #1: My pantry. This would probably be neater if it were in plain sight, but it is strategically hidden behind a wall in our kitchen, so guests don't see it. Don't even get me started on the hazards to Edwin in this space, which of course, is his favorite place ever. It's like Disneyland! He especially likes trying to get at the blades of the Cuisinart, which is on a low shelf because I'm the worst mom ever.

Please help me.

Love,
Fluffy

I hear they make nice ones now.

2009-09-25T19:07:00.006-04:00

Dear Diary,

We had a birthday party for Edwin last weekend. It was really fun, and there were like 800 kids and 900 adults there. OK, more like 11 kids and 28 adults. Still, what can I say? Edwin's really popular. (That's not entirely accurate; he just has a big family. But he is popular within that family!) The gift bags were a hit, and all the parents were really glad that I put New Year's style noise makers in them! I'm sure it made the drive home really fun for everyone.

We did the whole cake/singing thing, which only freaked Edwin out until he realized that he got to shove an entire piece of cake into his mouth. Which he totally did.

Turns out that my company DID lose the contract on which I was working. So, I may not have a job come Dec. 31. As you might imagine, my feelings on this matter are mixed. There is a strong chance that I will just move somewhere else within the company. I know lots of people there and thankfully, they are not ALL sea hags who hate me so hopefully I'll find another gig. Or, I'll get laid off and stay home with Edwin. The problem with that is, well, replace "home" in that sentence with "in a tent".

Hmm, what else? Dunno. Here's a pic of E with his birthday 'za.

Here he is in a sailor hat. Because, come on: sailor hat!

Love,
Fluffy

My baby! Is a year old!

2009-09-16T20:07:00.003-04:00

Dear Diary,

Today is Edwin's birthday! We celebrated with pizza, french fries, and brownies. I threw a few peas on his tray as well just to keep up appearances. The real party goes down this Saturday, with 30 of his closest friends and relatives. My family is huge; what can I do? Also Edwin is just a popular guy.

I spent my lunch hour at the dollar store, agonizing over contents for the goodie bags (there are 12 children coming, oh my god, don't remind me). Seriously, I had kind of forgotten about the importance of the goodie bag but thankfully, I remembered in time. I mean, a lame goodie bag could put you on the birthday party D list for years. Kids remember a good loot bag. I want Edwin to be the kid whose parties are packed because word gets around that HIS mom puts the best shit in the goodie bags.

Hey, I know what's important.

Love, Fluffy
Mother to an official toddler. Who toddles!

What did I know?

2009-09-11T20:02:00.003-04:00

Dear Diary,

Oh, there are plans. There are festival plans and socializing plans and birthday plans. We will introduce Edwin to some local City B bands tomorrow, and hopefully he will show off his newly-acquired walking skills to all of our friends who we haven't seen probably since the last time we went to this particular festival, two years ago, before I was even pregnant. Before I understood what parenthood would be like, being completely smitten by a pointing, biting, clapping, swatting, yelling, hugging, laughing, throwing, often sticky little mad man who looks a lot like my husband.

Love,
Fluffy

Oh, world.

2009-09-03T20:06:00.002-04:00

Dear Diary,

I am at the start of a long loooooong holiday weekend. Tomorrow my mother is coming over with my two nieces. I am hoping to take this opportunity to do laundry while they play with Edwin. He is bored with me of late, I think, so this will be good for him.

Saturday we are going up to the BHE's mom's vacation place in the Poconos. I am hoping Edwin will get some quality lake time, as he's become quite the outdoorsman (I know, is he really my son?) ALL he wants to do is go outside. And once we come in he points to the door and says, "OUT."

What else? Oh, I don't know. I've been thinking a lot about work and how I hate it and how I wish I could stay home but then again I think it would be really weird to just be completely out of the work force and dependent on Brendan for money and blah blah blah. I have so many conflicting feelings about motherhood and working. I never really want to get into them on this blog because it is a controversial issue for sure and anyway, I don't really want to share the details of my financial OR professional situation.

So let's just say that I've been buying a mega-millions ticket every week and leave it at that.

Love,
Fluffy

Anyone want some dogs?

2009-08-25T21:03:00.004-04:00

Dear Diary,

Remember when I used to love my dogs? Now, not so much with the loving of the dogs. They smell, they shed, they go outside and graze in the yard and then come in and barf up piles of grass and twigs all over the place, they bark, they slobber all over Edwin constantly, they drink all the water in the baby pool while he's in it. I remember people telling us that once we had a kid we would be WAY less enamored of our dogs. And I thought, that will never happen, no way. But guess what? Way.

Our cats' approval rating ain't soaring through the roof right now either. But Edwin loves them so much, SO MUCH, that they are kind of skating by on that. Also, neither of them has put Edwin's entire arm in their mouth, and I can't really say the same about our black lab, Petey (aka "a Pete").

Here I am with a Pete, probably the last time I was enamored of him: when he was helping me through my early stages of labor.

It almost looks as if he knows what is to come. Poor dog.

Love,
Fluffy

how it goes

2009-08-16T14:18:00.002-04:00

Dear Diary,

I'm sitting here waiting for the mad man to fall asleep in his crib for a nap. He is not screaming, which is good, but he seems to be playing and pointing at things and squealing and generally engaging in non nap-like behavior. So how long do I let this go on? For the duration of what should be his naptime, even if he never falls asleep? THEN what? Just bag the afternoon nap altogether? Let him fall asleep in the baby pool? Because we have a poolside happy hour planned for 5:00 and unless he has an afternoon nap, it probably won't be a very happy happy hour. Ugh, these are the questions that plague me as a parent.

In other news, I'm 34 now. I got $100 for my birfday and I'm getting my hair did, which as you can see from the pictures of me below is a dire necessity. It's amazing how long I can ignore how bad my hair looks. Kind of like how I can ignore a pile of laundry, or a pile of dog vomit. Which is kind of what my hair is starting to look like.

Oh, also: Edwin said "dog".

!

Love,
Fluffy

Or the dinosaurs...

2009-08-12T20:35:00.006-04:00

Dear Diary,

Edwin is being Ferberized at the moment, even as I type this. Yes, yes, we are on night 2 of the "graduated extinction" method of sleep training (which, my friend Meghan pointed out, sounds like something they did to the Jews during the Holocaust). I don't want to get into all the details and issues, but he HAD to get out of our bed. He had started sleep standing, sleep crawling, etc. and it was just time. I feel plenty guilty about it, but it has to be done.

We took our first Windover family vacation this weekend. When I say "vacation" I mean two days in Rehoboth, because I don't get paid vacation anymore but we still have to pay for daycare even if Edwin isn't there. Anyway, it was fun. Edwin had such a great time. Favorite attractions included seagulls, Funland, and the trash can in our hotel room, into which he carefully placed the BHE's flip flops.

At Funland! Edwin went on the merry go round not once, but TWICE, that daredevil. Also the ferris wheel. He is totally extreme.

First encounter with the mighty Atlantic.

Probably pointing at a fat lady. Seriously, at the hotel pool he pointed at a VERY fat lady and went, "Heh heh." Awkward.

FUNLAND!!!

OK, gotta get ready for my 15 minute "check and console". Actually, I think he may have fallen asleep. Could it be? Ha, of course not.

Love,
Fluffy

creepy jack

2009-08-02T11:01:00.003-04:00

Dear Diary,

Right now Edwin is in his room with the BHE, playing with his creepy vintage 70's Fisher Price
jack-in-the box (it was the BHE's). He LOVES that stupid thing, of course. He has figured out how to push the button himself, but he's still a bit scared of the result. So he goes to push it and simultaneously tries to scamper up onto whomever's lap is closest. Anyway, the thing makes this horrible noise when it pops out that kind of sounds like a dying puppy. This drives our female dog to terrible distraction. Her mothering instinct kicks in and she whines and paces and tries to get at this poor puppy in distress, driving everyone crazy. So the whole ordeal is annoying. And of course Edwin wants to play with this thing 800 times a day, and even though we put it up on a shelf in his room. He points to it and squeals until we get it down for him.

So that's what's going on right now at the Windover house. I know, very exciting. Not much else going on, really. Also this weekend, Edwin discovered just how much he likes blueberries (A WHOLE LOT). So that was a fun diaper.

Love,
Fluffy

The New Game

2009-07-20T18:16:00.009-04:00

Dear Diary,

1. Get block.
2. Stop briefly to gnaw on block.
3. Bring block to top of stairs. (Breakneck speed, shreiking with glee along the way).

4. Push block under baby gate.

5. Watch closely as block tumbles down stairs.

6. Crawl back to room and repeat. Unless sidetracked by teddy bear, as shown below.

And, yesterday was our 6th wedding anniversary and we WENT OUT for dinner. At 6:00, and were home by 7:45. Party animals, we. Still though, it was fun and Edwin got to spend some quality grandma and grandpa time.

Love,
Fluffy

Keeping Perspective

2009-07-12T10:54:00.003-04:00

Dear Diary,

Quick update here just to say that we did the crib thing on Friday night, and Edwin stood up in it and cried for three hours, never once getting close to going to sleep. THREE HOURS. I gave up, obviously. I know, I know, I should have stuck it out, am bad parent, blah blah blah. But Saturday he developed a cold and had a fever last night so I knew there was no way any crib sleeping was going on. So, putting it off another week...

I have to remember that there are many worse problems my baby could have than not sleeping in his crib. It feels like such a big deal to me but really, I should count my blessings. Because look! He is healthy and cute.

Love,
Fluffy

Line em up

2009-07-07T10:45:00.002-04:00

Dear Diary,

Edwin is in his crib for a nap right now. In order for him not to scream much like one might if one were possessed by satan, I have to trick him and lay him in there after he has fallen asleep in my arms. When he wakes up and realizes he's been duped, he screams much like one might if one were possessed by satan. Not an ideal situation by any means. But we haven't started formal sleep/crib training yet (soon! we will start soon!) and I don't want to spend my whole morning and afternoon getting him to fall asleep in his crib. Right? Right.

And about the sleep training. I don't mention the sleeping "problem" much anymore, because it's not so much his problem as it is ours. He has no problem; he sleeps great. He's got a VIP room at the Radisson with turndown service and a free, self-replenishing mini bar. I'm the one with the problem. I know that teaching him to sleep in his crib will result in some satan-like screaming and writhing and pathetic red-faced pleas for MAMAMAMAMAMA!!! and I just can't take it. I'm too lazy to be consistent, especially because I know that bringing him into our bed will result in peaceful sleep for all of us. And that face, when he stands up in his crib and that red little tear-stained face is begging, BEGGING me to pick him up and console him... I just don't have it in me. "Steely resolve" is not one of my attributes.

Everyone has something that worked for their kid. And it seems like many parents forget how horrible it was, the road their baby had to take to reach independent sleep. We haven't found that something yet that works, and the few times I've tried to get him to sleep in there are burned in my memory.

No point here, really. Except that we need to sleep train Edwin. I am not the "family bed" type and I never intended him to sleep with us at all, let alone for 9 months. And I'm not looking forward to it and I've been putting it off for months. The BHE poo poos the use of any particular "method", arguing that all babies are different, they are not dogs you can train and no doctor really knows what the hell they're talking about with regards to sleep issues. He's the one who's probably going to end up doing it, the "training", while I sit at the corner bar and drink margaritas.

These babies.

Love,
Fluffy

Coupla Pics

2009-07-05T16:51:00.004-04:00

I realize now that the look here with his polo shirt and sweat shorts evokes a sort of jock vibe that I assure you I was not going for.

"Oh mama, you say that to ALL the babies..."

Love,
Fluffy

slow summah

2009-06-28T14:36:00.008-04:00

Dear Diary,

Edwin is most definitely living up to his Mad Man nickname of late. I blame it on his second front tooth, which is being a total douche by refusing to descend and making him angry and bitey. He is really letting me have it when I try to steer him away from something dangerous, or pry something dangerous out of his fat little fist (like my beer). He looks right at me and screeches in a most menacing fashion. I could also blame it on the fact that he has not pooped since Friday, despite several blueberry smoothies and mango purees. That would probably make me mad as well.

In other news, my whole family is all over the globe currently, while we Windovers hold down the fort in boring old City B. Though we are heading to the beach in August, where there will doubtless be much sand eating.

I got nothin' else, so here are some photos.

Edwin with cousins Allison and Brooke.

Edwin with Brooke and her brother Robbie.

Lounging poolside.
Regaling me with tales of the high seas.

Right before he attacked me and then smashed my camera.

Love, Fluffy

How. How?

2009-06-19T11:02:00.002-04:00

Dear Diary,

Someone please tell me how one is to get any housework done when one has a 9-month old. My particular 9-month old is very much with the crawling warp speed toward dangerous things, and the pulling up on unstable furniture (including the dogs), and when not doing either of those things he is clinging to me and sobbing pathetically when I put him down. I thought I would get more things done around the house being home with him more, but that is really not the case. Well, I was able to sweep today, at least, having temporarily distracted Edwin with by letting him play with a narrow, wrought-iron plant stand turned on its side. (Best toy ever, apparently. Better than the broom, which was his first choice.)

It is amazing how much he has changed just in the last month. With the crawling and standing and eating graham crackers and using a sippy cup. And the teeth! With the biting.

More later. This man wants to play, and the trash can, while I'm sure amusing, is just not what I had in mind.

love, fluffy

Paralyzed

2009-06-05T09:40:00.009-04:00

Dear Diary,

Right now I am ALONE in my house. I took Edwin to daycare and stayed home from work so that I can clean in anticipation of my mother-in-law's arrival later today. I have a list of things to do. Baking cookies is on the list! So is cleaning the toilet. All the things that are nearly impossible to do with Edwin around. So far I have:

- made coffee
- moved some piles of paper onto other piles of paper
- waited for my slow computer to download pictures
- called the BHE and lamented our lack of shelves in the office/guestroom
- sat and stared into space, completely overwhelmed by this free time and all its possibilities

Also, there is the guilt for taking him to daycare while I am home. I think I will get into the groove here soon. I need to focus on something manageable: the prospect of doing all the things that don't get done is too much and is paralyzing me with inactivity.

Anyway. Edwin has been quite the man about town lately, as evidenced by the following photos.

Here he is with Jack McD

Baby face-off with Jack McD...

Edwin is hip to his scam.

"Hey, buddy..."

"You wanna be pals? OK, then back off my teething thingie.

"Alright, we're cool."

Last week we went to a baby sing-along with my friend Minnie and her son, Jude. As you can see, the boys were WAY too cool for this scene. Jude's all, "Oh my god, I can't believe our moms are singing these insipid songs. This is so embarrassing. Let's get the hell outta here." Edwin's all, "Dude, I don't even know what to say."

I should also mention that he and Sophie, the 10-month old from his swim class, have become quite close. The instructor asked last week if they were on a date. They were holding hands. It was srsly cute.

OK! I must clean!

Love,
Fluffy

Caturday

2009-05-23T07:43:00.007-04:00

Dear Diary,

Edwin's fever did finally break last week (thanks to everyone for sharing their own terrifying infant illness stories! This parenthood thing, it really does a number on one's nerves.) But right after that, he developed a disgusting cough and snotty nose. He's fine now; just lousy with snot and coughing like he's been smoking pall malls for 30 years. In fact, everyone at daycare has the same cough, so it sounds like an AA meeting over there. What with all the smokers.

Today we are determined to go to swim class. It was cancelled last week (and Edwin was sick anyway). I'm sure that he will hate it. Ever since our first swim class, he has developed a STRONG dislike for the bath. This new water aversion is troubling, because kid gets dirty and also it is almost summer and he will play in the baby pool while mama works on her tan and he will LIKE IT.

Oh, and I have requested to cut down my hours at work to 3 days a week. I cannot handle this working pretty much full time thing. We will be poor, yes, but actually we spend so much less money now on drinking and going out that it almost works out. Almost.

Love,
Fluffy

Striken: Part Eight Hundred

2009-05-17T10:17:00.002-04:00

Dear Diary,

The poor mad man has been sick with a fever since Thursday. I took him to the doc on Friday, hoping he had an ear infection so that he'd get his antibiotics and be all better. But, no. The doctor was all, "Huh. I dunno... probably a virus. But he's breathing a little fast, so keep an eye out for [insert list of vague but scary symptoms]. OK, have a great weekend!" Riiiiiiight.

So since then we've been totally freaking out, obsessively watching his breathing and taking his temperature (in between doses of ibuprofen). For Edwin's part, he's mostly been happy and playing, except when his fever goes up, when he whimpers and pants and generally scares the shit out of everyone.

I call shenanigans on this fever, and I call shenanigans on whatever foreign intruder is invading my precious boy's little baby body. Cease and desist!

Any comments about how babies get fevers for several days and wind up just fine are welcome and even encouraged. Kthx.

Love,
Fluffy

Happy Mother's Day to ME

2009-05-10T08:28:00.004-04:00

Dear Diary,

It is my first Mother's Day, and I got to sleep until 7:40! It was luxurious. The BHE and Edwin made me a card, and we are going on a picnic today. Edwin's interest in the great outdoors is considerable, so hopefully he will enjoy it.

In other news, this week Edwin discovered his... cash and prizes. His meat and 2 veg. His bits and pieces. His twig and berries. (Should I go on? Because I could.) Now when we change his dipes, he immediately grabs for his junk. Even if it is covered in poop. Especially if it is covered in poop. Now I know why my friend J always offered her son a toy to play with on the changing table. But besides his junk, his 3 favorite toys right now are, in this order: 1) the remote 2) my cell phone 3) my glasses (only when they are on my face, natch). Did I mention the stapler? That's a favorite as well.

Also, he cut his first tooth a couple weeks ago. Also, his swim class went OK. He did not expose my breasts to the entire class, so that was a plus. He didn't love it, but he didn't exactly hate it. Also, I work for a government contractor and our contract is up for rebid and part of me (OK, most of me) hopes we don't get it and that I get laid off. Is that wrong? Seriously though, I just want to hang out with this guy all day. Wouldn't you?

Love,

Fluffy

Srsly?

2009-05-03T19:27:00.002-04:00

Why are we doing this again?

2009-05-02T07:51:00.004-04:00

Dear Diary,

This morning we are taking the boss to his first baby swim class at the YMCA. This seemed like a great idea, until I started thinking about a bunch of babies in a pool with their questionable swimmy diapers, crapping and snotting and drooling all over the place. Also, what if I drop him and he drowns????? Not to mention, he'll probably hate being in the pool and claw my face off trying to get away. And let's not forget that he will DEFINITELY expose my breasts to the entire class, what with his habit of yanking my shirt off and grabbing at my boobs all the time.

We're only doing it for the photo op. He has THE cutest swim trunks and bathrobe. Pics to follow (though hopefully not my mugshot for indecent exposure.)

Mother of the Year,
Fluffy

!

2009-04-18T12:21:00.007-04:00

Dear Diary,

Not much new to report. Except! Edwin is 7 months old and is sitting up! Our bathroom is almost done and looks beautiful, and though we can't use the shower yet we CAN use the toilet. Also, not being able to use the shower has necessitated my taking nighttime baths, which turns out is rather luxurious. I sit in there and call out to the BHE periodically, "I'm almost done!" when I'm totally not almost done.

Here are a couple of Edwin pics, since I really have nothing funny or interesting to say.

Totally not feeling the wagon thing.

This is the face that our daycare provider calls "Muffin Man".

Helping with laundry.

My sweet baby biceps. Let me show you them.

Love, Fluffy

She's a Laaaaaaady

2009-04-10T08:41:00.002-04:00

Dear Diary,

Can we talk about Kyra Sedgwick, and why she's prancing about in an orange juice commercial? And how the camera never focuses on her face quite long enough for you to be really sure it's her? (It is.)

If she's embarrassed about having to do orange juice commercials (as she should be), why doesn't she just go to Japan like everyone else? For example, Nicholas Cage.

Love,
Fluffy

Update

2009-04-09T07:19:00.005-04:00

Dear Diary,

I have been at my parents' house in suburbia for nearly two weeks while our bathroom is under renovation. And to answer Cindy, yes, we did pick out new tile for the shower. But we loved the original 1930's subway tile so much, we just replaced it with new subway tile. Basically it will look the same, only less disgusting! And less likely to fall off. The subway tile covered the entire room, but we replaced it with wainscot in the interest of fiscal responsibility and maintenance. We really wanted to keep the original art deco bath/shower hardware, but our contractor said it had to go. I found something similar to the old stuff, for only $800! Um, no. So we chose something less vintage that will still look OK, I think. Here it is!

More later, gotta go feed the mad man. Who, by the way, eats his weight in solid food at daycare but will not eat one bite if I am here and instead grabs at my boobs. This may become problematic during his birthday parties.

Love,

Fluffy

Behind

2009-03-27T20:41:00.002-04:00

Dear Diary,

I am behind on everything, always, as usual. Laundry, writing, work, socializing, cleaning, blah. In other news our bathroom broke and we have to get it redone and we only have one shower so we need to move in with my parents temporarily. I am actually looking quite forward to it; I will be telecommuting while my mom takes care of the mad man.

In other other news, I have reason to believe there is another breast-pumping lady at my work. I feel like we should be friends or something, but she looks like really not my type. Is having babies a similar age and milking yourself at work so you can feed them enough to have in common for a friendship? She really can't dress.

Love,
Fluffy

No Time for Anything, Ever

2009-03-19T10:53:00.005-04:00

Dear Diary,

I am taking a mental health day with Edwin. We got up late and he was miserable with the teething (come ON already, you bastard tooth!) Yesterday I was really missing him and not being productive at work so today I decided to throw in the towel on the whole working charade and stay home with him.

Right now he is tummy timin' with some soft toys.

Here he is last weekend, with his baby friend Jack McD. I like this picture because Edwin kind of looks like a badass.

Here he is reading with the BHE. Don't worry, I don't actually think he can read. He's too busy composing music.

And finally, here is an excellent article about breastfeeding. I should be writing articles as well, but I have little time to do so. Turns out I am too lazy to be a freelance writer! Who knew.

Love,
Fluffy

Furthermore

2009-03-05T20:07:00.006-05:00

Dear Diary,

It may appear from the pictures of Edwin here that he never smiles. This is not true! He just refuses to be our trained monkey and smile for the camera. So here are a couple pics of him smiling, just to prove that he isn't, like, emo baby.

Love,
Fluffy

BANG(s)

2009-03-05T19:55:00.002-05:00

Dear Diary,

Here are my bangs.

I am already tired of them, but that's just how I roll. Since my hair is wavy, they must be beaten into submission , and that cuts into my morning Edwin snuggling time. But, it is nice to not have to look at my forehead anymore.

Edwin is ASLEEP IN HIS CRIB right now (it is 8:00 p.m.). This is a very big deal. Tonight he even fell asleep on his own (I put him in the crib awake, then lay on the floor of his nursery like a homeless person until he fell asleep). Usually he screams bloody murder if we put him in there awake, but tonight he just drifted off without crying. I am sure this is just a fluke; the universe just toying with me, trying to get my hopes up only to dash them tomorrow night. I will not fall for it! There is no way this is the start of a new trend.

OK. I'm going to go stare at the baby monitor and wait for him to wake up, as he is bound to within the next 20 minutes.

Love,
Fluffy

She bangs.

2009-02-28T15:11:00.003-05:00

Dear Diary,

So I did it; I got the bangs. I'll post a picture later, maybe. The one I took already is "bad" and "weird", according to the BHE. Sorry dude, but that's just what I look like!

Love,
Fluffy

Also, I have a neverending cold.

2009-02-24T20:14:00.004-05:00

Dear Diary,

I would like to take this opportunity to ask the weather to stop being such a douche. I have really had it with this winter; I am actually angry at it. The BHE thinks it's funny that I often become angry at inanimate objects. But I'm willing to argue that this particular winter in City B actually has a personality, the kind that comes to your party, spills red wine everywhere and then tries to make out with your boyfriend.

Also, apparently this morning I had a sign on my back that said, "Tell me about your ovaries!" It started with a coworker who let me know that she was ovulating and that I should keep my fingers crossed. I understand wanting to get pregnant, and I wish her the best and everything, but I'm not really sitting at my desk thinking about her egg and her husband's sperm working it all out. Next was another coworker who told me she was going through "the change" and how she is so sweaty all the time that she had to buy special night gowns made of hemp or bamboo or charcoal or something. Um, gross.

Also, my kid will not eat vegetables. We gave him green beans the other night and you'd think I had poured acid in the face the way he reacted. I guess it's not all that unusual for a 5-month old, but I just don't want him to be that kid who refuses to eat vegetables. He is already that kid who won't take a bottle, won't take a nap, and won't sleep in his crib for more than 20 minutes at a time. Can he AT LEAST be a good eater? Sigh.

Doing everything wrong always,
Fluffy

Self-Promotion of the Shameless Variety

2009-02-16T10:06:00.006-05:00

Dear Diary,

So. I just started writing for this local website as the "New Mom Examiner". I think their criteria for writers must be very, very lax. But anyway, here is the link in case you want to read my stuff. It is local to City B, so probably not that interesting if you're not local. Also, probably not that interesting if you are local. You will learn my real name on this page; please don't stalk me. Ha, I flatter myself.

What else has been going on? Lots of not sleeping, some teething (in Edwin's case), some eating of bananas and avocados and sweet potatoes, some buying of spring/summer wardrobes for certain babies (omfg BABY BATHING SUIT nom nom nom).

On the sleep front, we tried the crying it out method this weekend to get the Boss to sleep in his crib. We let him ~~cry~~ scream in there for an hour, and I have never felt so bad about anything ever. So, long, emotionally devastating story short: this method does not and will not work for our family. So back to square... zero?

OK, coupla pics.

Serious composer baby is SERIOUS

I like to call this look "baby blue gangsta".

Love,
Fluffy

Tally Me Banana

2009-02-07T09:05:00.002-05:00

Dear Diary,

The news:

1. The Boss ate some bananas this morning. First real food! This is immensely exciting, as it will eventually lead to him leaving my boobs alone at night.

2. We started calling Edwin the Boss. He is the worst boss ever; I asked him for a raise and he tried to take off my shirt.

3. Why is John Turturro doing Heineken commercials?

4. I may (may) have scored a sort of writing gig. Not sure yet, I'll keep you posted. The only problem is that this gig may involve me writing about doing things with a baby in City B, and we don't do anything so that might pose a problem.

5. We will be seeing both sets of grandparents this weekend.

6. I want to get bangs. Thoughts?

Love, Fluffy

Stricken

2009-01-23T11:16:00.002-05:00

Dear Diary,

The BHE and I have both succumbed to the illness that plagued the mad man last weekend. And let me tell you, it is no picnic. I thought taking care of a sick baby was rough, but taking care of a healthy baby when YOU are sick is way worse. Mercifully, he took a long nap yesterday afternoon so that I could get some rest. But for the most part, he doesn't seem to understand that I don't feel well and don't have the energy to play "up and down" all day. This is his new favorite game, and it involves me holding him up over my head and saying, "Up!" then bringing him down and saying, "And Down." Much hysterical laughter ensues on his part and soreness of arms on my part.

Anyway. Why can't someone pay me to stay home and take care of Edwin? Not clear on that. My job is getting me down. Some days it's great, but some days it is the suck. I have a new boss who is a total douchebag. Well, he is a nice guy, I guess, but he is not so much with the offering of flexible schedules for mothers of young babies who sometimes need to be picked up early from daycare because of the hunger striking.

So I'm having a bit of a professional crisis. I suppose it's more of a financial crisis though, because if we could afford it I would quit right now. But then we'd be so poor we'd probably have to live in a tent, and that might be awkward what with all the dogs.

Love,
Fluffy

The Happs

2009-01-18T13:27:00.004-05:00

Dear Diary,

This weekend started out fantastic. Here I am at the hair salon at 10:00 AM Saturday, with a Star magazine and a glass of wine. Did I mention 10 AM?

That's right: she offered casually; I accepted (probably with way too much enthusiasm), and there was no judgement or guilt on anyone's part. I told her I had a four-month old at home who is a nocturnal nurser and that I hadn't had my hair done since I was 8 months pregnant. I was probably babbling incoherently and might have had spit up in my hair, so she felt sorry for me and busted out the old chardonnay. In short, I was happy.

Then when I got home the mad man started coughing a little, he was still happy and playing and everything so, I wasn't too concerned.

But as the evening wore on he became increasingly fussy, sneezy, snotty, coughy and generally miserable.

Which required much cuddle time with his mommy and daddy.

Then when we went to bed poor little fella developed a fever (only 101, but still... general panic and guilt on my part for having him in daycare).

Anyway it was a long night, but today he seems happy and the fever is down, and he is playing and cooing and laughing as usual. And! A 40 minute nap in his swing which has allowed me to write this post.

Also. We got one of those little digital camcorders and have been recording him doing... nothing. You know, just being cute. But don't be surprised if I subject you all to footage of my baby doing nothing and being cute. You've been warned.

Also. When I went to the hair salon she somehow convinced me to dye my eyebrows a little darker to "bring out my eyes." But I kind of look... like Uncle Leo, if you're a Seinfeld fan. But my hair turned out pretty good. I would post a picture, but I'm not feeling cute enough after being up most of the night with a sick baby.

Also, isn't breastfeeding supposed to prevent this sort of thing? Why do I have my tits hanging out constantly if he's still going to catch nasty viruses? I guess it could be worse.

Looking forward to when I can finally put away my tittays,

Fluffy

BRB

2009-01-13T20:15:00.003-05:00

Our little Ghandi is hunger striking at daycare and making up for it at night. All night. Every night. So no sleep for me.

love, fluffy

Part Timer

2009-01-05T09:10:00.006-05:00

Dear Diary,

Today is the first day of my new part-time work schedule. From now on I can pretend to be a stay-at-home mom on Mondays. We may venture to the little kiddie sing-along at the local coffee shop. Because, you know, Edwin just loves to sing. And he loves... coffee. Anyway, I'm thinking maybe I can meet other moms that way.

But it is a tricky business, this reaching out to meet other parents. Because what if you can't stand these people, and your kids become best friends? Then you're stuck hanging out with the kid's mom constantly, who may turn out to be into scrapbooking. Or worse. The possibilities are frightening. But it has to be done. I need to connect with other mothers with nearly 4 month old babies who refuse to nap unless physically attached to a parent, who will only sleep at night when curled up right next to mom (and no, mom cannot watch TV or read at bedtime), and who have no tolerance for being put down whatsoever. Welcome to attachment parenting gone horribly wrong.

Anyone? (Parents with babies who take nice long naps every day and who sleep through the night in their cribs can suck it and need not apply.)

Love,

Fluffy

P.S. - We had a very active holiday season, including Edwin getting some Jesus all up on him. Holy baptized baby, batman! And yes, that is a fruity little lace baptismal cap he's wearing. It's a family heirloom, and the pictures will come in handy for embarrassment purposes later on.

Beam Me Up, Scotty

2008-12-22T11:12:00.004-05:00

Dear Diary,

I guess I'd better post before the insanity of the holidays really sets in, and while my son, who is actually a "never-nap", is in his crib for the charade we like to call nap time.

We are heading down to Colonial Williamsburg for Christmas (that's where my MIL lives) and yes, totally buying Edwin a tri-cornered hat.

In other news, here he is in his captain's chair.

This high chair had been sitting in the box it came in since my baby shower, and looking at it the other day I discovered that he did not have to be able to sit up on his own to use it. I was like wait, you mean I could have been neglecting him THIS WHOLE TIME?? So we set that bad boy up toot sweet. He seems to enjoy it; he sat in there for like 40 minutes yesterday watching me bake banana bread.

And here he is in our bed, which is pretty much where he sleeps for the time being, since he has outgrown the basinette and refuses to sleep in his crib. He was totally cracking up during this photo shoot. He thinks it's hilarious that we expect him to start sleeping in his crib starting next week. Hilarious, I tell you. Actually, he probably thinks that we're the ones who will start sleeping in his crib so that he gets the big bed all to himself.

Love,

Fluffy

BEAR SUIT

2008-12-15T09:58:00.002-05:00

Dear Diary,

OMFG it's a bear!

Anyway. See the beautiful quilt upon which this ferocious beast is poised? A woman we don't even know made that for Edwin. Some old lady friend of the BHE's mom or something. Amazing how people go crazy for babies, no?

And since I promised some workplace material... you may remember me mentioning the unattractive Briton? The one with the face like a bullfrog? Well, I had another unfortunate run-in with her last week. She already hates me, and now she thinks I'm trying to kill her.

I was driving into the parking garage at work, talking to my friend JH on the phone. Yeah, yeah, I know. I totally gab on my cell phone while I'm driving. I know I shouldn't; get off my back. It's not illegal here yet. Anyway, JH was talking about another gal we know, and described her as a "greedy cunt". This, of course, sent me into gales and gales of laughter because... who talks like that? Aren't we all adults here? Apparently not. Anyway, the bullfrog was hopping out into the traffic of the parking garage at precisely this moment. So I had to kind of slam on my brakes, but I was throwing my head back in laughter at the same time. So it didn't look good. But seriously lady-- play Frogger in the arcade, not the parking garage. K? thx.

Don't even get me started on Sullen Fat Girl. That's a story for later.

Love,

Fluffy