Baby Bunny: The Many Ways My Second Child Has Made Me Realize I Was Crazy When I Had My First

Baby Alexandra was born on December 3rd.

I have to admit, I wasn't really looking forward to having a newborn again. I know that sounds terrible, but it's true. In part, I blame my sister, whose new baby boy was born at the end of October and whose Facebook feed after his birth was a train wreck of miserable-sounding updates about how whiny and difficult her new baby was.

It got me thinking about Caitlyn's first few months on this Earth. I would never say she was a bad baby, but I do remember feeling overwhelmed by her needs. She seemed to always need something- a bottle, a diaper change, a burp, non-specific comfort. Add to that sleep deprivation and the fact that she wouldn't latch so I was pumping my breastmilk every 2 hours, and it felt like a never-ending cycle where I didn't even have time to take a shower. And I had help back then. Rodolfo and I were living together, and he brought his parents to stay with us for the first month after Caitlyn was born.

So I was thinking of all of this. Of the neediness. Of not having someone always around to help. Of having to do all that newborn baby, needy meatloaf shit while simultaneously taking care of my 3 year old. And I was a little freaked out.

And then my new baby came and I realized all that freaking out was for nothing. She's totally sweet and easy and mellow. Also? I realized that I was kind of a paranoid fucking crazy person when I had my first daughter. Here are some other lessons I learned:

1. Taking a shower isn't negligent parenting. No newborn baby ever died/was ruined for life because they woke up during mommy's 10 minute shower and cried for a few minutes while she was busy washing crusted breastmilk off her nipples and making sure her c-section incision didn't end up infected because she hadn't showered in a week. Also? That hilarious nonsense where I'd put Caitlyn in her bouncy seat and bring it into the bathroom with me just to be sure she didn't smother herself in her crib while I showered? No thanks. She couldn't even fucking move. What did I really expect was going to happen? And another thing about that- if the baby starts crying while I shampoo my hair, I'm not going to stop shampooing my hair out of guilt (and you can only really hear them crying if you bring them in the bathroom with you anyway). Wait 5 minutes kid, I promise you'll survive.

2. Everyone thinks you are a moron when you have a newborn. And I'm not just talking about well-meaning old grannies on the street who want to tell you all the ways in which your baby isn't warm enough. I'm talking about the very first people you encounter after having the baby- the hospital staff. Man, do they ever think you're an idiot. And the first time, they are sorta right. As a first-time mom, I remember listening so intently to every ridiculously obvious piece of advice they gave me at the hospital. Sure, a lot of it seemed like common sense, but in the same way, a lot of it was stuff that never even occurred to me to think about. This time? Did I really need to attend the "mandatory" class the hospital expects you to take before you leave? Thanks, but I already knew that I shouldn't leave my newborn on a counter and walk away. I already knew that I should burp her halfway through a feeding. And, presumably everyone attending this class has been tending to a vagina on a regular basis for a minimum of 15-20 years, right? What grown ass woman needs it explained to her that she should be "wiping front to back" when changing diapers? Because really, that's just a delicate way of saying "you know you shouldn't smear shit into your infant daughter's vagina, right?". WE SHOULD ALL KNOW THIS ALREADY!

3. Neediness of the baby variety is significantly less impressive to me this time around. As I said, with Caitlyn, it was a big transition going from doing whatever the fuck I wanted to constantly putting the needs of another person ahead of my own. It was overwhelming. Now? Well, I have to say, the needs of my 3 year old greatly outnumber the needs of my newborn. The baby? Food, sleep, fresh diapers. That is literally it. Sometimes she wants to be held and sometimes she's got a fart stuck in her belly that she's trying to get out, but other than that, she needs very little from me. Caitlyn, on the other hand, needs more than just basic life necessities. So in addition to having to make sure she is fed, clothed, and bathed, there are about a million other needs she has: Every single toy she sees on a commercial, for example (or Bulova watch on a billboard, for that matter. She's in an I-want-literally-everything-I-see phase). A glass of water the exact moment my head hits the pillow to go to sleep. Chocolate milk in her Happy Meal, even though I explicitly asked her multiple times and she insisted she wanted apple juice. And those are just some physical needs. Her emotional needs are endless and I'm expected to solve every existential crisis of her 3 year old life- why is the sky blue, what is that dog doing to that other dog, why can't I have a lollipop before dinner, why do I even have to eat dinner, why can't I look at my vagina in a public place, why does his mommy let him do stuff that my mommy doesn't let me do- WHY ARE YOU SUCH A MEAN MOMMY?? In the end, I'll do anything for my girls. That's what I signed up for when I signed up for being a mom. It's just funny in retrospect to think about how overwhelmed I was by providing only the most basic of needs for a cute, smooshy little meatball that couldn't even move (let alone throw a temper tantrum, or actively disobey me) when I put her down somewhere.

4. Sleep deprivation is another thing that was utterly jarring the first time around. Now? Well kid, I haven't had an uninterrupted night of sleep in 4 years, and you're out cold 20 hours a day. Come at me. I can handle it just fine.

5. They aren't as breakable as you think they are at first. Caitlyn's first few months were smooth sailing. At worst, I think she had a bad rash once or twice. I remember when she was about 6 or 7 months old. I had been clipping her fingernails, but I couldn't find the baby nail clipper, and so I made the poor choice to use a grown up one. You know where this is going. I clipped the tip of one of her fingers. Not like I clipped it off, but I cut it enough that it was bleeding pretty steadily for a solid 10 minutes. I spent those 10 minutes in absolute hysterics, begging Rodolfo to take us to the emergency room. And because I was clutching onto her, sobbing like a lunatic and cursing myself for being the cause of the first real pain she had ever felt- the "worst thing that had ever happened to her" by my own assessment- she was hysterical too. When I called my mom and asked her to please convey the seriousness of the situation to Rodolfo, she told me "maybe you need to calm down and listen to your husband. Because based on what you are telling me, I really doubt that you have to worry about her bleeding to death from the tip of her finger.".

I think back to that, to how laughable her "injury" was and how terrified I was that she wouldn't survive it without medical intervention, and I realize how far I've come. I was never really the hysterical type, and once Caitlyn started walking and injuring herself every 12 seconds or so, I really developed a "shake it off" mentality. In fact, Caitlyn will tell me she's shaking it off now if she gets a little bump or bruise.

I bring this last one up because of what we are going through right now. I don't think I could have handled it if it had happened to Caitlyn. I would have been writing checks to Jesus that my base faith level simply couldn't cash. Baby Alexandra, at 26 days old, got admitted to the hospital for pneumonia. She had some nasal congestion and was sneezing for a couple of days leading up to it, and I had brought her to the pediatrician, who gave me a nebulizer and saline solution to try to break up her congestion. And then a day or so later she spiked a fever and came down with a horrible cough. I followed up with a second visit 2 days after I took her initially, and got sent immediately to the ER. After a chest x-ray, some bloodwork, and a lumbar puncture, it was determined that Alex has RSV- a common respiratory infection that still would have sucked had she been a little older when she got it, but it probably wouldn't have ended up turning into pneumonia over the course of a day or two. So we've been in the hospital, and she was admitted to the pediatric ICU a few days ago, when her breathing got considerably worse and she wasn't able to breathe well enough to even eat. But we've made a lot of progress since then and we hope to be going home in a day or two. She's a tough little cookie, just like her sister, and she's fighting this with everything she's got.

So that's my update. I had that baby I was telling you guys about. What's that? Pictures you say? Why, of course there are pictures.

Hop on Pop

Caitlyn has a bit of a reputation for having the attention span of a marble (or maybe I just have the patience of a bad mom?). She also has a tendency to tune me out. Or it's probably more accurate to say she actively ignores me. I can say her name 15 times and get no response, but if I say the word "cookie" she's suddenly completely aware that she is being spoken to.

It made it hard to teach her things, but I was never particularly concerned. I spent a little time obsessing about it a few months before she turned one, but that was mostly because my niece, who is the same age, was so far advanced and so focused on absorbing absolutely everything around her, that it made me a little paranoid that Caitlyn was behind. She wasn't. Mostly I like to remind myself that every kid is different, and that my kid excels at physical things more so than a lot of kids her age because that is the kind of shit she wants to do, and when she wants to do something, she is absolutely capable of it.

Anyway, now that she has mastered the skills that are really important to her- you know, things like hanging on monkey bars and climbing rock walls at the playground and jumping off the coffee table and doing the Fresh Beat Band dances- she is much more inclined to sit still and pay attention when I'm trying to teach her something. Not that I need to teach her much. My babysitter is like the asshole-toddler whisperer and is fantastic at engaging her in ways I would never even think of. Still, I like to occasionally, you know, teach her shit.

Caitlyn has never had the patience for books. Where as my niece and nephew could quietly sit while being read to (even if not for a whole book- at least a few pages!) at a year or 18 months, Caitlyn decided at an early age that the purpose of books was to cut her teeth on the bindings. And you sort of expect that at a certain age. You expect that, at a year or so old, they may find a book on the floor or in their toy box and their immediate response is to put it in their mouth. I'm not even talking about that. I'm talking about every binding of every book she owns (and our babysitter owns!) being ripped out with her teeth. I'm talking about finding her chewing on cardboard at least once a day. I'm talking about hiding books from her because I knew she would only destroy them.

Finally, though, Caitlyn is interested in the story. She will bring me a book and ask me to read it to her. Whenever I tried to read a book to her in the past, it was met with screeching, squirming and ripping. It's so nice to be able to tell her the story inside the book. I love reading Dr. Seuss to her. I love that she follows along and throws out lines from the book when I prompt her. I love that, when I turn a page, she inevitably turns it back so she can enjoy her favorites parts of the story just a little longer.

Caitlyn's go-to bedtime story right now is Hop on Pop. Reading it with her is awesome and hilarious, because she ad-libs throughout the book. There's an orange dog that is on a lot of pages. He isn't necessarily part of the story on that page, but he's there. Absolutely every time she sees him, she points to him and says "ornage puppy" (and no, that wasn't a typo. She calls it ornage). It doesn't matter what else is happening on that page, she loves that damn ornage puppy. When we get to the page where Mr. Brown and Mr. Black are having a snack, she tells me they are eating sandwiches and drinking milk. She counts the apples and bananas. When we get to the actual "hop on pop" page, she notes that "Daddy is mad", because the pop looks pretty pissed at those two kids jumping on him (I'd venture a guess here and say they fucked his back up. I'm fairly sure of this because my own dad blames me for his back problems. From that time I jumped on his back. When I was 5).

My favorite part though, is the "father, mother, sister, brother" page. That is on the left page. On the right page shows another boy, a baby, with the words "that one is my other brother". For some reason, Caitlyn hates the other brother. She covers him up with her hand and tells me "I don't like another brother" and "no baby!". He's on the following page too, and she covers him then too. I asked her why she doesn't like the baby and she simply tells me "I like THIS one" and points to the other little boy. It's so arbitrary and hilarious. It makes me giggle every night. It also makes me feel a little less guilty about this whole I probably won't be able to give her a sibling thing.

Just in general, I'm finding Caitlyn is more structured and receptive to discipline, too. I think a big part of it is that we are falling into our own routines and not having anyone (coughherdumbdadcough) throw a monkey wrench into it by wanting to do things another way.

Also, seriously, she is fucking hilarious. Her comic timing is genius. Last night, she asked me to put something on TV for her. When I didn't immediately respond, she looked at me, completely straight-faced and said "come on, son". I was sure I misheard her, so I asked her what she had said and she said it again. She also cheerily told me that she had poop in her 'gina last night.

This kid. She is too much.

Eleven Things and 100 Posts

I guess I should start by commenting on where I've been. Sleeping. Actually, no. NOT sleeping is much more accurate. Basically I've been buzzing through life like a fucking zombie because I feel like I haven't slept in 10 years.

Caitlyn may or may not be getting her last round of molars. She's been whiny and just EXTRA toddler for the last few weeks. Extra. All the toddler.

The main problem is her sleeping habits. They are fucking awful. I had finally gotten her out of the habit of sleeping in my bed and over the last week or two we just reverted right back. Because she screams and cries and begs until I pick her up. And it used to be that once she was asleep we could put her back in her crib, but not anymore. She wakes up at least 3 times every night crying, and I'm so run-down and exhausted that I just dump her into bed with me so I won't have to get up to comfort her the next time she wakes up.

Sleeping with a toddler is the worst. She's already a restless sleeper and whatever has been bothering her makes her toss and turn all night long. If regularly getting kicked in the face in the middle of the night wasn't bad enough, I've also found that sleeping next to her is a lot like what I imagine it would feel like to sleep pressed up against a space heater. I wake up just about every morning drenched in sweat.

Since I haven't been updating much, I should probably also point out that the sweating at night thing isn't only about Caitlyn. I've been on my MS meds for over a month now. I was really worried about the side effects, and that I would feel like shit all the time, but the sweating has been the only regular side effect I've had. I'm doing really well on them, in fact.

So. Next things... next. I got tagged over at The Last Oyster. I'm new to her blog, but she's cool and funny. You should check her out. Anyway, I have to tell you 11 things about myself, then answer the questions she asked of me. Then I have to tag some of you bitches and create 11 questions for you to answer. Should be way more interesting than the rest of this post:

Eleven things about me:

1. I have a bunch of weird little phrases and words I use that make absolutely no sense in the context in which I use them, or they are completely made up and are only funny to me. Examples? "Dumparoos", "The Brown Cow", "So is your face", "Aces 10 Bojangles", "Everyone hates you", "Facepunch/Mouthfart" and the newly crowned princess of awesomeness "Dirt Floor Whore".

2. Accessories are my own personal nemesis. I have an oddly shaped head (or a gigantic one? Probably a gigantic one) and so hats never fit me right and sunglasses always look weird and I just never wear jewelry. My accessoriless life is sad one.

3. I hate it so much when people combine two different names and give their baby some made-up bullshit name. There are literally THOUSANDS of options. Just pick a normal name. Also? You aren't unique and neither is Jessilynda (Dear Jessilynda, Please don't send me hate mail. My beef is not with you, it's with your mom. Snuggles, Jaclyn).

4. I have an irrational fear of people knowing how tone deaf I am. I have to be really, really (no seriously. REALLY REALLY) drunk to do karaoke.

5. Any time someone asks me what kind of music I like, I tell them I only like shitty music. It's mostly this weird thing of not being able to resist liking something after I've heard it a dozen or so times. Fucking pop music, man.

6. Yesterday, I was cooking dinner and Caitlyn walked up to me and handed me something. It was a piece of poop.

7. I'm a little bit of a science nerd. I find medical stuff and genetics really interesting (not interesting enough, though, to get any sort of degree and put that curiousity to work in a field where I could make a shit-ton of money. Nah. I'd rather just be a receptionist who blogs.).

8. I have a weird sort of... fear, I guess? Of chemicals. If I'm cleaning something with Windex or 409 or anything like that, I hold my breath. The smell of bleach makes me want to scrape out my nostril hairs because I'm convinced they are holding the stank in my nose (when I reread this to edit the post, I added the reason why bleach makes me want to scrape out my nostril hairs, because it occured to me that I maybe sounded like a schizophrenic who was convinced that they were in cahoots with the bleach to poison me). I yell at Rodolfo when he uses air freshener. I'm at work right now and they are doing some sort of "chemical cleaning" of the air conditioning system and I'm 83% sure that I'm developing a tumor as we speak. On the other side of this coin, I also think that hand sanitizer is ruining lives. I'm not evenly remotely weirded out by germs and other naturally occurring stuff that my body has had generations of evolution to learn to fight off. I think people who use hand santizer are underevolved bitch babies. But Pine Sol? It might as well be a bottle of Polio (and I know Nadine is going to say blah blah blah "Method" so I'd like her to know that I recently invested in some Method cleaning supplies and I love them and also they are pretty).

9. Coming up with eleven things is getting kinda tedious.

10. Number 9? Total cop-out.

11. Do you remember that song from that fake band that MTV made up during the boy band craze of the late 90s? U+ME=US. I KNOW MY CALCULUS. Seriously though? That was kinda awesome.

1. Why do you blog? Did you read my "about" page? God, you are such a lazy whore. Ok. But mostly I blog because I have the coolest kid on the planet and as an adult I've always been curious about my own mom's inner monologue from when I was a kid. So I figure this is my monologue for Caitlyn to read when she's old enough to realize I'm not the most uncool person on the entire planet. Or for when she realizes she wants to embrace my uncoolness. Or for when her own toddler is kicking her in the face every fucking night.

2. Dream job: This, I guess? If I could get someone to pay me to write and shit. Obviously I want Caitlyn to see this blog one day, but I could write down all the dumb shit I think in a journal for her or something if I didn't truly enjoy the fact that people like what I have to say and think I'm funny and shit. So, I guess what I'm saying is that I'd like to get super-Bloggess famous and write a book or something. But like, the kind of famous that only writers can be, where lots of people know your name but you still maintain enough anonymity that you can eat in the mall food court without needing a security detail. Actually, you know what? Fuck it. I want the security detail too. I want to be so famous and so beloved that Born Again Christians think I'm the Antichrist (as they do with everyone cooler then them ::coughbarackobamacough::).

3. Favorite Canadian (this is just a test-the answer is not Celine Dion): Ninja, obviously. But can we talk about Canadians and non-Canadians for a minute here? I like to bust Ninja's balls about the extra U's she puts in words that do not need a U (for example, I had to delete a U from the word favorite when I pasted these questions, because apparently BNo is also Canadian. Stop thinking you are fancy, Canada. We don't want your U's). Anyway, I have this... let's call her an aquaintance on Facebook. We went to high school together. She is very much from the USA. She is also very much too old to be deliberately misspelling words so as to appear a certain way (smarter? I think she thinks it makes her look smarter. Fail, aquaintance. Fail). And so I want to punch her through the medium that is Facebook when she puts U's in words that do not require U's. Wouldn't it be great if instead of "like", you could "punch" someone? My life will be complete when Zuckerberg adds the ability to status punch the assholes I went to high school with.

4. Beer, wine or hard liquor? Hard liquor. And honestly, it's a good thing because beer and wine are disgusting. Seriously, why would I ever want to drink something that is fucking fermented? I do not put fermented anything in my mouth. I certainly would not put a fermented dick in my mouth, so why would I ever drink wine? Also? If we were having a debate about the pros and cons of drinking wine, I just won it. Fermented dick wins all arguments. Also, I feel like someone is going to tell me that all alcohol is fermented, but I don't give enough fucks to even Google it. I still win. I don't care about your "logical argument".

5. Favorite book: This answer is going to make me sound like a moron. Up until a few years ago, I was pretty convinced that I did not have the attention span to read books. I would read lots of magazines and online articles, but until recently, when I realized I do not have the time, money or childcare available to do cool shit outside of my house, I never really read books. I've read a few recently though, my favorite being, typically, The Hunger Games trilogy. If anyone has suggestions, I will happily take them (except for Nicholas Sparks. I will puke in your hair if you recommend Nicholas Sparks).

6. Reality TV as the death of well-written comedy and drama-discuss. Nadine keeps insisting that I watch "Jersey Shore", but I say no way. I don't need to see "The Syphulation" doing body shots out of some skank's belly button. I think it's to a point that you have to pay for good TV. Which is why I abuse Nadine's HBO Go to watch Girls (which is where "dirt floor whore" originates. If that isn't reason enough to watch, nothing is ever going to be good enough for you. I don't think you're cool and your mother is poor) and I pay for Showtime to watch Dexter. Dexter is a fucking amazing show, with the exception of the story arc they set up this past season where he starts fucking his sister (Dear Dexter writers: If you think this is a storyline the fans have been clamoring for, let me clear this up for you. No one wants to see him fuck his sister. No one. Never ever. Thanks! Love, A Devoted, Non-Incest-Loving Fan). While we are on the subject though, I'd like to blame reality TV for the destruction of one of my favorite shows, Lost. I'm pretty sure that during the last two seasons of Lost, the writers simply said "fuck it. You know, we've put a lot of effort into this shit and these idiots are watching The fucking Bachelor. Let's slap our balls together over a dictionary and whatever words the drops of our ballsweat fall on will be the plot line this season.". In case it's unclear, I was dissatisfied with the ending of Lost.

7. What do you talk to your spouse about once there's nothing left to talk about? Yesterday Rodolfo asked me if I was dating someone else. Because apparently the fact that I've left him couldn't possibly be about anything he's done wrong. It's obviously because I'm a whore who is fucking all the dudes (bitterness. You're welcome).

8. Favorite type of book: I haven't decided. I always think I would enjoy a good mystery, but then I'll decide against it because it will probably be all scary and suspenseful and I spend enough of my time worrying about serial killers and not getting enough sleep.

9. First thing you would do if you won the lottery: First thing? I'd buy houses for myself and my family and friends. But the coolest thing I'd like to do? Well, as you may remember, I was really poor as a kid. Projects poor. We lived in the projects for most of my childhood. A lot of people hear the word "projects" and assume that everyone who lives there has a drug problem or some other vice that landed them in the poor house. And that is the case a lot of times. But then there are people like my mom. People who didn't have the opportunity to get a really good job because they lacked a college degree. People with deadbeat baby daddies who don't do a single thing to make sure their kids are fed and clothed and housed. People who deserve for something good to finally happen to them. So if I won the lottery, I would go to the projects where I grew up and find someone like my mom and give them a million dollars.

My questions for you:

1. Who wronged you this week? Go ahead, vent. You know you want to.
2. Top 5 bangable celebrities
3. 5 completely unbangable celebrities (for the record, I don't get the whole Ryan Gosling thing. I guess he's not technically "unbangable", but I wouldn't hit it. At all. Please don't chase me with sticks. It had to be said).
4. Tell me the story of the drunkest you've ever been. If you don't remember all the details, feel free to make some shit up.
5. What did you want to be when you grew up? How is that working out for you? Please tell me why you failed to reach the goals you set for yourself when you were 8.
6. You have to be in a room with Newt Gingrich for an hour. Do you end it all?
7. Song you hate the most and why.
8. First and last name of the first boy you ever had a huge crush on, so when that narcissitic asshole Googles himself, he will know all your private shame.
9. Do you like me? Circle one ----     yes               no             I like you so much I know your social security number
10. Why did the chicken cross the road (I suspect hallucinogens but please tell me your theories)?
11. Hot air balloon or white water raft? (I'm not even going to give you context here. Tell me a good story)

Tagged: Nadine, Ninja, Noa, Jen, Misty, Gia, Gweenbrick, Johi, Kendall

Last business of the day: THIS IS MY 100th POST. You're welcome! But seriously, thanks to my faithful readers. I love you and all your comments, and even when I don't have the chance to respond to them, please know that I read them all and very much look forward to them.

Because It Would Be Narcissistic to Make Two Separate Posts About How Everyone Loves Me

I'm not what you would call technically savvy. In fact, Nadine set up this entire blog for me. My skill set pretty much consists of signing in, reading other blogs and posting.

My point is that I have no idea how to get people to read my blog. Nadine got me a few sympathy followers to start off with and I think most of the rest of you found me through my comments on other blogs. And I appreciate every single one of you. The fact that any of you want to hear what I have to say, even if it's about diarrhea like 80% of the time, is amazing to me. Thank you all for your support.

Anyway. Somehow my small (extremely small) legion of fans is slowly increasing, and that is fucking awesome. And in the last week, I got two awards from two of my awesome readers:

The first, was the Versatile Blogger award from Selena over at Because Motherhood Sucks

I'm fairly new to Selena's blog, but I was in love with her the moment I saw the title. Because motherhood? Yeah, it kind of does suck sometimes. Selena does an awesome job of being inappropriate and pointing out when things look like orange vaginas. I'm currently reading all of her archives so I don't miss anything.

Next was the Liebster Award, from my Ninja, which is basically her way of saying "Wow, You are awesome as shit. Why are you so underrated?". Ninja is my internet stalker, in case that was unclear. You can easily buy her sassy, Canadian love with some stale cookies and lip balm. She's kind of a whore like that. But seriously? Check you out some Ninja. She's awesome and funny and super smart. Don't play Words with Friends with her though. She's a dirty fucking cheater (or smarter than me, one of those two).

Now, with the first award, you are supposed to give 7 random facts about yourself. Let me see if I can make that happen for you:

1. I'm borderline OCD with my eating habits. The lengths to which I will go to have things a particular way is slightly psychotic. A few examples, you say? Surely. Well, the most obvious example is the fact that I rearrange any kind of burger or sandwich I get. Every time. Even if I'm eating it in my car. The reason for this is to ensure the even distribution of condiments, obviously. Because, moving along to my NEXT example, I need to have a little of everything in each bite. With burgers, that means a little onion, a little pickle, a little bacon and a little ketchup (with anything else, I pretty much get a little of each thing on my fork for every individual bite. Yeah. I know it's psychotic. Didn't I already say that?). If you are wondering what I do about the fries, they are actually eaten in alternate bites with the burger. Last bite has to be burger though, because, moving on to my next example, I have to save what I deem the best bite of something for last. With burgers and sandwiches, this is usually the bite in the middle, which is why I eat around the edges first and work my way in. With steak, obviously the best bite will be the one that looks rarest. And the best bite of pizza is the second bite up from the point. I'll usually bite off the tip (that's what she said), then turn it around and eat from the crust down. These things are the reason I'm fat. Too many food obsessions.

2. I walk weird. I blame my father, as he has the same stupid walk. Rodolfo once described as looking like I'm carrying a bag of groceries in each hand, so... maybe I don't move my arms a lot? I don't know. This is also probably the reason I'm a ridiculous klutz.

3. I'm currently house shopping. It's stressful, because our budget is really tight and we don't want to live in the hood, but it's going to be so fucking awesome when we find the right place. We have been living in a tiny 1 bedroom apartment for 3 years now, and Caitlyn's shit has taken over every nook and cranny, so when she has her own room and maybe a playroom and a fucking backyard to share with Joey, it is going to rock my shit so hard.

4. I married my husband after less than a year ::coughheneededagreencardcough::

5. My left boob is bigger.

6. I have one tattoo, a horribly disfigured little butterfly on my lower back, just above my ass. I got it when I was 19, when my horribly disfigured (okay, maybe he was just ugly) ex boyfriend's brother offered to do it for free on his living room floor because he was learning how to do them. Rodolfo likes to point out that it looks like I got it done in prison and he is 100% correct.

7. I'm not allowed to eat Jolly Ranchers. Yes, in fact I am 29 years old and have been forbidden to eat a particular kind of candy. You see, my mother nearly choked on a similar, squarish hard candy when she was a kid (her own mom dislodged it with the back end of a spoon, so you might understand why she's so traumatized) and told me long ago that I wasn't allowed to eat them. And really? For my mom, who let me drink and fuck in her house because she trusted me to make my own decisions and knew I was intelligent enough not to get pregnant or alcohol poisoning, how could I ignore this one request? I can not. So even today, as a grown adult, if someone offers me a Jolly Rancher, I politely decline and tell them that my mom doesn't let me have them.

Seven random facts. You're welcome. Oh, and thank you, obviously.

I'm also supposed to tag some bitches, but it seems pretty much everyone I would tag for these things has already been tagged by someone else. Except Nadine, who is also awesome and who you should also check out. She doesn't post very often, but her posts are kind of epic (see this post in particular. It's one of my favorites). So I guess I'm tagging Nadine then. Give us some blog love, sir.

Busted Knees and Broken Faces

You know how policemen beat their wives with a sack of oranges because it doesn't leave any bruises? Huh? You mean that isn't common knowledge?

Anyway, despite having no plans to start beating Caitlyn, I realized that if I wanted to, I could totally get away with it. Uppercuts to the lip. I'm just saying. Toddlers man. No one questions it when she busts her face open.

I probably sound like the worst parent ever, but I just find it incredible how often this kid hurts herself. I regularly find bruises, cuts and scrapes and have no idea how they got there.

She's going through a cute little phase though. With all the rain we had last week, plus my natural clumsiness, it was inevitable that I would bust my ass. I'm kind of notorious for falling down all the time. My mom mocks me relentlessly about it. She was keeping a running tally of all the places I'd fallen back when I was a teenager. And she was pretty convinced that I had never been somewhere and not fallen there at least once.

So it was slippery. And I was in a rush. And I'm a fucking klutz and you should maybe just be 2 minutes late to a meeting as opposed to rushing when you are a klutz and it's raining outside. So I fell. Hard. And scraped up my knee pretty badly and fucked up my ankle.

Anyway. I got home and took a shower and was walking out of the bathroom in my towel when Caitlyn spotted my knee. She came over and pointed to it and I confirmed that "yes, oww, mommy got hurt". And then she did the cutest thing I've ever seen. She bent down and kissed my knee. Because she is the most adorable. The most adorable ever.

I'm still pretty scraped up and Caitlyn still comes over and gives my knee a kiss any time she sees it. It's the cute dysentary. She is oozing cute from all her orifices. I love it.

Then the other day she walked over to me. She was in her diaper, because clothes are for fucking suckers. I was cooking dinner or some shit and she was trying to get my attention (did I mention she says Mommy now? Finally. She seemed really committed to calling my Mom for a while, but the minute I got out of the hospital she started calling me Mommy). When I looked over I saw she was holding one leg up, looking at me expectantly. That's when I saw it. She had the tiniest little scab forming on her knee. Maybe a quarter of an inch. I wouldn't have even seen it if she didn't point it out to me. And then I knew just what she wanted. I was supposed to kiss her knee.

And I did. And then I asked if her knee felt better, if mommy's kiss had helped. To which she responded with a pained "Owwww". And then I kissed it many more times.

This isn't something I've ever shown her. I give her kisses if she gets hurt, but the idea that she should reciprocate the gesture was just about the cutest thing I've ever seen, and something she decided all on her own. My girl. She has a natural tendency to be nurturing and sweet, to care about other people.

I think as parents, we always question our choices. We always wonder if we are making the right decisions. We fear that we are raising brats or assholes (especially when they are just hitting their stride in terrible-twos type behavior). And so it's really nice to have a moment like that, where you realize that your kid really is as awesome as you think she is.

Like That Justin Timberlake Song, But With IQ Points

My supreme sense of self-importance tells me you have all been wondering how I've been feeling:

It was like a rubberband snapping back into place.

I hadn't realized just how stretched I had become until I felt it snap back. I knew I had been off, tired. I joked repeatedly about losing 10 points on my IQ. And then one day I was on my way home from work and I snapped back. And I realized that it was probably closer to 20 points. And I finally had them back.

I've been slowly tapering off the steroids since I got out of the hospital and on that day I had gone from 4 pills a day to 3. I expected... I don't know, for my mouth to maybe taste a little less like a radioactive squirrel. I wasn't expecting it to be the threshold where they finally stopped impeding every fucking thing I wanted to do. But it was.

The best way I can explain is that it was both physically and mentally like taking cotton out of my ears. There had been an echo to everything my brain processed for weeks. Buzzing almost. And so it was taking twice the time it normally would for me to process things. It probably wasn't noticeable to most people. I'm pretty quick to begin with. But I noticed. I remember going to lunch with some friends and just feeling like everything I said was off. My timing, my jokes, they were all delayed. I felt awkward with a group of people that I am usually 100% comfortable with. I guess part of the problem is that I don't hang with dumb people. In interactions with people who don't know me that well, nobody noticed how off I was. But my friends, I know they saw it.

When I followed up with the MS specialist, I wasn't given any new information. I'll be going for an MRI of my spine to try to pin down the diagnosis, but as of now we have essentially no new information. I suppose that isn't completely accurate. The other possibilities for demyelinating diseases were eliminated. I don't have Lyme Disease or Sarcoidosis.

I expected this. I had already spoken to the neurologist in the hospital in depth and she told me we couldn't confirm based on the information we have right now. So I wasn't surprised or upset. But I was curious about the recovery period. If I have MS, I wanted to know when I should expect to feel normal again. And the answer to that question is what scared me.

What my doctor told me is that most people recover fully within 6-8 weeks, but that if I had not within that timeframe, I shouldn't expect to ever fully recover. I had had significant improvement to that point, but I was still missing those 20 something IQ points and for some people, the neurological damage of an MS attack is permanent. I might never feel like myself again. That was hard to hear.

A few days later is when the rubberband snapped back. And I was unbelievably grateful. I went home that day feeling great. I had the energy to cook dinner and play with my daughter. I had the mental clarity to appreciate it. I felt like myself for the first time in over a month. And that's where I'm at right now. Feeling like myself and able to fully appreciate that for all it's worth.

It's funny how much more you appreciate something when you don't have it for a while.

The Grandma Chronicles- Part 1

I am crass.

If you've read even a single blog post of mine with the exception of maybe that last one, this is not news to you.

In any case, I was thinking about it the other day. How my lack of a filter can sometimes be funny, sometimes offensive and sometimes REALLY offensive. And then I had another thought. I'm not really that crass.

Wait. I'm going somewhere with this! You see, in the whole "nature-nurture" debate, I really do stand on the side of environment playing a big role in who we become. I've always thought I was a lot like my mother, and I guess genetics play a part in that too, but I think actually growing up around my mother would have done a lot of good for a lot of people's sense of humor.

What I'm saying here, is that if you think I'm crass, you should talk to my mother.

I have so many stories. A big part of writing this blog for me, is that as an adult, Caitlyn might have a real sense of who I am as a person. I know my own mother very well, but I often wonder about the person she was before having kids. The person who made her become the mother she is.

Her stories of her own mother are always ridiculous to the point of caricature. But ridiculously awesome. I never knew my grandmother. She died when I was only a few weeks old. But I know the stories. They don't paint a picture of a pretty childhood, that's for sure, but my mom tells them with such timing and precision that you can't help but laugh so hard you cry. And maybe pee a little.

Maybe one day I'll tell some grandma stories. But today I'd like to tell you more about my own mom. Her stories. The hilarious ones I'll never forget. The ones that might make you wonder for just a moment if she isn't a horrible person. Don't worry. I'll be there to reel you back in and remind you that she is the awesomest person ever. So here goes:

I was young. Maybe 3. I couldn't have been older than that. We've discussed my shitty dad to death, so you won't be surprised to hear that my parent's marriage was not a happy one. But my mother, she took everything in stride. She made things fun. She was not one to just sit around and cry about how shitty things were.

So my dad had this habit. He would criticize my mom's weight. Yeah. He has no social graces at all, in case that was unclear before now. The irony, of course, is the fact that at the time he outweighed her by nearly 100 lbs. He would say she was too fat and tell her she should be more like his skinny sisters (seriously? Creepiest thing you could ever say).

And so it would come to be that my mom had a nickname for my dad, one she still uses to this day. She calls him Tubby. Which isn't so bad. But there was also a song. As I said, I was maybe 3 years old and a talkative 3 year old at that. So my mother decided that her revenge for all the comments about her (perfectly NORMAL) weight would be to teach me a song to sing to my dad.

"Daddy needs a diet, cause Daddy has a weight problem." That was the song. Just one line. But one perfect line, especially coming from a precocious 3 year old who was mocking you. I remember years of my mother instigating me to sing it to my dad. It was magic. It is the perfect example of how my mom deals with stuff. And it pissed him off so much, which made it all the better.

Maybe I'll make this a thing. Stories about my mom. There are so many great ones to tell. Stay tuned.

AHHHH! AHHHH! AHHHH!

Ok. I had a post planned. It was a good one. I'll still do it, tomorrow maybe.

But there was something else. Something that eclipsed the other stuff that happened today. A milestone. A huge one.

Caitlyn used the potty for the very first time.

There was once before, when I found pee in the vicinity of her potty, like she stood next to it and peed on it like a dog. But this was different.

It started while I fed her dinner. Or, more accurately, while she fed herself dinner. Because usually she whines and fidgets instead of eating, but tonight she was happy to feed herself instead of just throwing the contents of her bowl at the dog. But halfway through dinner, I noticed she kept pulling at her diaper and had it most of the way off. She'd had the farts like whoa, so I thought maybe she finally pooped and was annoyed about sitting in it. She finished eating and I took her out of her chair, where she immediately took off her diaper, pointed to her vagina and said "pee-pee".

Game on, friends. Game fucking on.

I told her if she needed to pee she should sit on her potty and hustled her right over there. She did what she usually does and sat for 8 seconds, got up and started wandering around. Then she picked up her bowl of pasta from the table and sat back down on the potty to snack while she peed.

It was magical.

It was a little weird that she needed a snack to properly negotiate her pee, but I was extremely excited about the whole thing in general. There was clapping. And cheering and giving of cookies. Yes. Bribery is a surefire way to get this to happen again.

My only problem is, if she does start using the potty regularly...well, where the hell am I going to find underwear in her size? Tiny-assed kid still wears 18 months. I might have to take my mom's advice and shrink down some 2Ts in a load of hot laundry.

But I'll cross that bridge when we come to it. Because right now we are all very happy to embrace pissing on the toilet.

Holiday Update

Yeah. You definitely thought this was going to be about the most recently passed holiday, Thanksgiving, didn't you? You would be wrong.

Because I'm desperately inefficient and a chronic procrastinator, I'm going to tell you about Halloween. Oh come on you guys, it's only been 29 days! Just because I'm going to pick out a Christmas tree this weekend doesn't mean its too late to talk about Halloween! Hey. You know what? FUCK YOU. I will talk about Halloween now just to spite you. Orange and Black, motherfuckers. You don't know me.

You know what I just realized? "My kid really likes candy" isn't a blog post. Maybe this is why I didn't write about Halloween sooner? I don't know. Okay. Let me put my game face on and get into this shit:

Caitlyn loved Halloween. LOVED. And obviously, the aforementioned candy was a part of that. But it wasn't actually the only part. She loved trick-or-treating even before I let her get all jacked up on sugar. Part of it is what a little attention-whore she is; she really enjoyed all the random strangers oohing and ahhing and telling her how adorable she is. She loved hanging out with her cousins. And oh-my-god did she love wearing her costume.

You see, last year I made a mistake. Last year, I put her in an awkward costume that made her sweaty and cranky. She was a hamburger last year, which was utterly adorable, but I spent $30 on a costume that she wore for no more than 20 minutes.

This year I got smart about it and picked something more practical. Caitlyn loves cats. So that is what she was. You want to know what a cat costume consists of? Black sweatpants, a black turtleneck and a headband with attached ears and an elastic band with a tail attached to go around her waist. Bam. Costume. It's been a month and she still wears those ears. And expects me to wear mine. And then we both have to meow. It's kind of adorable, actually.

Anyway, Caitlyn ran from house to house with the energy of a cheetah on meth. When someone would let her pick her piece of candy, she would hand it to one of her cousins because she's fucking adorable like that. Then I gave her a lollipop and that was her own personal Jesus Christ for the rest of trick-or-treating.

It was awesome, and Caitlyn spent the entire time giggling and running and having the greatest time ever.

Pictures you say? Of course there are pictures:

Doggie Style

So I know what you are thinking. You saw the title of this blog post and you thought "Ok, I'm in for a cute anecdote about her kid and her playful little pooch again". Because what else could it be? This is a FAMILY blog (please disregard how often I say the word fuck, as it is not relevant to this all being very family-oriented). Well, you would be very wrong.

Let me set the scene for you:

Nadine invited us over for dinner last night. Spaghetti and meatballs. Which means Caitlyn was eating shirtless so as to not ruin another outfit. This was not unusual in any way. Until Caitlyn started tickling herself. On her nipples. With her meatball. Yeah, meatball tickles. In any case, we laughed at her oddness and finished up dinner, then went over to the couch to watch some TV.

Now let me explain something about TV watching at my house. If you come to my house on any given day, at any given time, you will find my TV is set to one of two things. The first, naturally, is Nick Jr. Because I have a fucking one year old. The second is NFL Network. Because I have a fucking husband. Mommy never has any say over what we are watching is what I'm getting at here.

Watching TV at Nadine's house was a nice change. We were watching comedies made for grown-ups on basic cable. We were not watching HBO or anything like that. So imagine my surprise when they aired a commercial for a fancy new dildo Trojan has come out with. Trojan Twister I believe was the name (not that I was making a note of it or anything. Because you know what they don't tell you about parenthood? That you don't even have the time or energy to masturbate anymore. That is just SAD).

The commercial for the Trojan Twister was, not surprisingly, ridiculous. It was on a basic cable network which means they can't just show you the dildo so you can decide whether or not you want to put it in your vagina. So a lot is implied.

There were two housewives, standing in the street next to a mailbox, marveling at the box for the new Trojan Twister. Yup. That's right. One woman ordered a new vibrator and was discussing it in animated excitement with her neighbor. "It'll blow your hair back!", she exclaims, obviously aroused by the thought. Just then, we see a couple from the neighborhood pass by the two women, neither of whom are shamefully hiding the dildo from them. As the woman in the couple passes the camera, we are able to see that her hair is "blown back". Because presumably, she was the one to recommend this dildo to her entire block. And look at that! She is walking with a MAN. Because you don't need to be a desperate spinster to buy an awesome new dildo!

Cut to a shot of the dildo box again. Now it's time for the hard sell (pun intended, motherfuckers). What kind of features does this magic stick have? Well, I'm glad you asked! With the Trojan Twister, you can expect all KINDS of features! Not interested in blowing your husband? No worries! The Trojan Twister will do it for you! Additionally, you can expect:

• 3 Speeds! (Regular: for all those single ladies leisurely masturbating in the tub because they don't have children to attend to. Quickie: Because at least the Twister won't ask if it can come in your mouth, and Premature Ejaculator: AKA The Dead Battery. Because wouldn't you rather just go to sleep anyway?)


• 4 Unique Positions! I was on board, Trojan Twister. Really I was. Until this. Unique positions? Is it a transformer? Does it turn into a saddle? What kind of positions could this dildo possibly offer?

Which is why I said it. "Unique positions? What is the dildo going to fuck you doggie style?". At which point, my lovely daughter parroted back at me "doggie style". Oh. My. God. They are going to take away my mommy license.

The Early Bird Gets the Taxidermied Cat (because you have to order those things WAY in advance)

Last year at Christmas, Caitlyn was only 7 months old. I was just getting out of my retail job at the beginning of December and I didn't really have a chance to fully appreciate just how awesome it was to not have to kill myself for the entire month.

When it came to Christmas shopping, I mostly did it in bursts. I'd spend my lunch hour shopping at my mall or I'd go to Walmart after work and try to get gifts for as many people as possible so I could avoid going to the store more than a few times. Caitlyn got a few toys, but I really didn't go overboard. I mean, my mom certainly did. I quite literally needed 2 cars to get home with all the stuff she bought. But I knew she was getting a ton of stuff, so maybe that's why I only bought a few things.

This year though, I'm truly looking forward to the holidays like I haven't been able to in years. And it's perfect timing because Caitlyn is now old enough to really enjoy them with me. My point is that I've started thinking about shopping for Christmas much earlier than I ever have before (mostly because I'm finally not dreading it), which got me to wondering what I should get her this year.

I know I want to get her a toy kitchen. Mostly because then maybe she will stop taking things out of my cabinets. And maybe a tricycle, though I'm not sure if she's really old enough for that yet. Besides those two things though, I'm kind of lost. So I started thinking about her interests. What does Caitlyn like? How can I leverage that into the perfect Christmas gift? So based on her current interests and hobbies, here is my list of possible appropriate gifts:

1. A Taxidermied Cat: Because she loves the living one SO MUCH, but she always runs away when Caitlyn tries to use her as a pillow! And fake stuffed animals just aren't the same!

2. Rock Climbing Lessons: Because the desk chair, baseboard heaters, kitchen table and her crib are no longer challenging her inner monkey. I supposed we will have to find a REALLY small harness, but it will be worth it if this in any way sets a fear of heights into motion. Because fuck kid, you are currently a fearless maniac.

3. Assorted Chew Toys and 500 Ice Pops: See The Teething Monster.

4. A Copy of "The Dukan Diet": Because it's all the rage now, and Caitlyn seems very concerned about keeping her girlish figure. The other night we had chicken, french fries and salad for dinner. After several failed attempts to get her to eat both chicken and fries, she pointed to my salad and said "puh-puh-puh" (this is Caitlyn for "please", because I'm the kind of mom who teaches my kid to be civilized and shit). I scoffed, but handed her a piece of lettuce thinking she would realize it was not candy and maybe decide to eat some chicken. Except she decided that lettuce was delicious and the only thing she was willing to eat that night. So I suspect she is already on a diet and I wouldn't want to derail that by offering her fat people food like french fries ever again. Actually... wait a minute. Did she just call me fat? Because I definitely WAS eating the french fries. I don't need your judgment, you freakishly tiny child!

5. An Ipod Touch: Because she loves to dance. This is a responsible purchase for a less than 2 year old, right? I mean, they have droolproofing or some shit, don't they? Stupid "genius" motherfuckers can pack 2,000 songs onto something the size of the palm of my hand but they can't create a droolproof case? Geniuses my ass.

6. Something That Brown People Like: Because she has recently been spotted being inappropriately loud in public, laughing at everything like someone just told OMGTHEBESTJOKEEVER, scowling at me as she openly disapproves of my choices, regardless of whether or not I've asked for her opinion and disregarding the fact that SOME people have jobs to go to in the morning. So... Coronas? I don't know. Any suggestions would be greatly appreciated.


So what are you guys getting your kids this year? What else does Caitlyn need, because I'm pretty sure 2 taxidermied cats would be overkill.