A Disclaimer

I have this really bad habit of cursing like a sailor in front of my Mom. Ted teases me about it all the time, and he’s right. I do. I have no idea why. My Mom [if you know her, you are aware] is a very sweet person who doesn’t use terrible language. She’s also very cool and doesn’t reprimand me too much for mine. So anyway…today she sent an email inviting some friends to check out this blog. Awesome. Welcome to any new readers! However, in typical “me” fashion, I promptly wrote a new post with a curse word right in the title. See below if you are curious. On purpose? No. But still. Part of me wonders if it was a subconscious act. My usual “sailor-like” reaction to interaction with Mom. My need to be SASSY!

Then it hit me. Oh, sugar. [Ok, that's not really what I said, but I'm trying to be good.] Some of you have kids. Kids who know me and KC and might like to see what we are up to. I felt a bit guilty about my “sassy” post regarding the dentist visit I was driving to when I had this awful revelation.

So, this post is my disclaimer. This blog is, definitely, a tribute to KC and my life as a Mom. Our lives as a family. It’s why I started it. It is, often, sweet and touching. But, I’m a person who likes to laugh. I like to be honest. I like to be funny. I have a bit of a wacky [and occasionally off-color] sense of humor. I write this blog from the viewpoint of an adult, for other adults to laugh along with me. Or, at least, persons over the age of 16 who can handle some slightly-mature references. There you have it. I mean no offense. Ever. But, if you have kids under 16, I’d caution you to read first before deciding to let them take a gander. And, sorry if I caught anyone off guard!

PS – I am back from the dentist. So soon? Yes. They didn’t have that inlay. The driver of the vehicle from the super-scientific-lab got in an accident on the way and could not deliver it on time. I gather that he’s not hurt or anything. I hope. I will have to go back for “Part 3″ after all. Sheesh. Maybe they just really like me, and want to see me every week.

Hey, that’s my gum, asshole.

The internet at my office is painfully slow today. It’s a good thing they are letting us go home early for the Labor Day weekend. Nice perk here at PSDA. They do that for most every holiday. I, however, will NOT be going home to a comfortable couch and Oprah. I have to go straight to the dentist’s chair. Ugh. Two weeks ago I started the process of getting an inlay and another cavity filled. Today the inlay [made in a super-scientific-lab] is ready to be put in. Hopefully, after that part is done, they will just go ahead and fill the other cavity. The one I hoped they would go ahead and fill the last time. Double-ugh. Not that I like being in the chair, but I really don’t want to go in for “part 3″. Enough already!

The horror of the dentist is highly overrated in my opinion. It’s honestly not that bad. It isn’t fun, but it doesn’t hurt like everyone always says. Maybe people just like to be dramatic. I find that my imagination is way worse than the reality. Last visit, 2 weeks ago, I was pleasantly surprised at how easy it was. It’s the idea of what is being done that is the killer. I mean, a needle. In your gum. Shit. That sounds awful. I cannot even look at the needle. Have you seen the ones they use there? It’s like something out of a horror movie with that huge chrome metal tube-like body, and the big round ring on top that delivers the goods. Gulp. But, they numb you up with a topical solution so if you make sure not to ever look at that needle, there actually is no pain.

Sound of drilling is awful, and don’t get me started on the smell, but again no pain. Maybe I should bring my iPod. Sorry, I am probably making you all sick. I’ll stop. You get the picture. Just implement a little “mind over matter” and it’s bearable. In a few hours I’ll be done and I won’t have to go back for six months. God-willing.

Nice start to the weekend, eh? Luckily, tomorrow I get to go see Jimmy Buffet in concert. My husband hates him, and no matter how I try to explain that it’s really all the drinking and partying in the parking lot that keeps us all coming back, he refuses to go. Too bad for you, Daddy. You can stay at home and change dirty diapers if you want. Mommy is going to fly with the other Parrotheads and drink beer and be free of diapers and bottles. Wasting Away Again in Margaritaville…damn right. I’ll see you bitches on Sunday morning. Please have some asprin ready for me.

To Sleep, Perchance To Dream

KC’s never been bad in the sleep department. From day one she did pretty much what she was supposed to. Don’t get me wrong, we had plenty of agonizing nights in the first month. I don’t think any new parents get a newborn who sleeps through the night. Who could if they had already slept all day? Once we got to the point where she was awake for at least 1/2 – 3/4 of the day, she started giving us some pretty good stretches at night. Cannot complain.

Now, however, she’s started a regular habit of waking and needing us at least once, almost every night. Crying very loudly in a way that says, “I’m not going back down until you bitches come hold me for a while.” Normally all she really needs is a change and to be cuddled on the couch a bit until she passes back out again. Dad, or I, sit until we’re sure she’s conked out enough, then we gently creep with her into the nursery and lay her back in her crib. Ta-da! Done. Back to bed for everyone.

Then there are the other nights. Nights when she seems to just have a bug up her butt that says, “We need to be with Mommy [or Daddy]. And not just with Mommy, on Mommy. All up in her face. Squirming, so Mommy cannot sleep comfortably and no matter how many times you try to put us in the crib alone, me and my butt-bug are not having it.” I have really tried not to give in easily. I don’t want a four year old that refuses to sleep in her own room. I know many parents have taken a road they regret going down when their children were just wee-little babes.

But, oh hell. That sweet face. That warm breath. That intense need to be so close to me, she seems like she might like to get all snuggly back up in my womb again. Ok, that would suck. But, you get the point. I secretly looove it! As a matter of fact, if the voice in the back of my brain wasn’t all like, “This is a bad habit. You are setting up for a long nasty habit here.” I would totally do it all the time. No offense to Daddy. He’s a nice bed partner too. I should mention at this point that we don’t take KC to our bed on these nights. Not enough room. Whichever of us gives up and goes to sleep with her, takes her to the guest bed. The very soft and comfy guest bed. All in all, it’s not a bad place to be.

But, alas. I know the right thing to do for KC, and for Mommy and Daddy, is to try and keep up a routine where we all sleep where we are meant to sleep. Every once in a while though, I will “give up” on trying to get her to go to the crib alone. It usually involves about two tries depending on the lateness of the hour. I will creep upstairs to “our” bed and feel that soft little body settle in next to mine. Heaven.

It’s the Little Things

Yesterday I made a promise to myself. I will capture the Poo Face if it kills me. It cracks me up every time I catch KC standing very still with that look. If you have kids, you know it too. Serious concentration that I cannot even describe in words. You can tell exactly what she’s doing, and it’s one of the little things she does that I just don’t want to forget. Sure, one day she’ll bring that cute guy from school over, and her Dad [I'd like to think I would have more tact] will pull out photos and say, “Oh, and here’s KC making the Poo Face!” As she turns 5 shades of crimson and vows to leave as soon as she’s 18. But, screw it. It will be totally worth it to have that face burned on photo paper forever.

There are other little things I wish I had captured very early. The biggest is the cry she had as a newborn. I can still hear it in my head, but it fades as time goes by. The first night we heard her coming down the hall from the maternity ward it was amazing. We knew that awesome little cry! It was so distinctive to us. It almost made me cry. Just the incredible clarity of it. Of what it meant. Her Dad agrees. We didn’t have any video cameras at the hospital, and just didn’t think to capture it after we got home either. I regret that.

Now I use my digital camera every so often to capture short films. Her funny little language. Her belly laughs. Amazing. I doubt they come through quite like they sound in reality though. She’s a character already. And here’s proof! Until I can share a photo of the Poo Face, I give you this video. Testament to the fact that all kids, big and small, love “potty humor”. Enjoy!

Keep on Rockin’, Baby!

So this morning I got to hear one of Metallica’s newest songs on the radio. It totally rocks. My husband and I are HUGE fans. The promise for the new album is that it will be much more like the old [good] stuff. If the song I heard is any indication, they delivered. Can’t wait to buy the CD!

Ted’s a member of the fan club and he even bought KC a few Metallica onsies. Poor girl! She might see the photos someday and think it’s cool. More likely she’ll think we are “weird”. Time will tell. It’s stuff like this that makes me realize, “Holy crap, I’m somebody’s parent now.” It is so strange. Age has crept up on me. I got married at 30, had KC at almost 35. I’m old. Well, ok, not extremely old. But, considering a lot of people have kids in their mid-20s, I’m getting up there. I was just below that line at the OB-GYN where they start to consider you a higher-risk pregnancy due to age. Eeek. In my mind, I feel a lot younger than I am, so it makes stuff like that hard to swallow.

We have talked about having a second child. We aren’t in a rush. KC has been a life changing experience and we are still reeling a bit. Maybe when she’s two? I will be almost 38 by then. Lord. I can’t think about the numbers too much. I guess how you feel is more important than the numbers anyway. Staying in shape and trying to be emotionally healthy can shave years off. I do believe this. Let’s hope I am right and that I can do it. That WE can do it. I need Daddy to be right there with me! It’s stuff like Metallica, as cheesy as that sounds, that helps keep us young. Come January 15th, we will be at that concert, rocking out to our favorite band. Forgetting for a moment that there are diapers to change and baths to be given. We need to have fun for ourselves so we can be fun for her as she grows. We’d better call Grandma now and book a room for KC at her house. Something tells me we’ll be home late that night!

KC at 3 months

D’oh!

Something made me remember a moment I had recently, and I just had to share. I was getting ready to clean off my coffee table a couple of weeks ago. Spray bottle in hand, I looked down and thought to myself, “That’s an odd way to tell me the nozzle is turned off.”

This is what I saw: NO

I was looking at it upside down.

D’oh!

T.M.I.

I left the baby monitor off last night. I thought it was on already and I didn’t double check. When I woke and went to turn it off I had a moment of panic upon realizing KC could have sighed, cried, choked on a dust bunny and I didn’t hear her. Then I got over it and took a shower. Truth is, she’s really close to us in the next room and when she wakes at 2 a.m. to scream for no apparent reason, my neighbor could probably hear it without a monitor on the bed-side table.

The monitor is just a comfort to me. It makes me feel “informed”. I like to be informed. I think a lot of us do these days. We have great resources in books and on the web. I like to read. A lot. As soon as I found out I was pregnant I was at the library looking for good books to tell me EVERYTHING about it. I read What to Expect When You’re Expecting as my little angel grew and grew. It’s a good book. Each month I’d review the appropriate chapter and find out exactly how big she was and what body parts had appeared. I studied the end chapters about labor and delivery so I’d know what was happening when it began. It was cool. I am not a person who freaks out easily, so I took it all in with excited fascination even though I was definitely nervous about giving birth.

But, there’s a lot more out there than just a happy guide to the good stuff. Part of that book is filled with info about illness, injury and possible issues that can arise with a pregnancy and the resulting child. I was careful not to spend too much time in those chapters. I have friends who refused to read some books because of this stuff. I don’t really blame them. When my mom was pregnant with me, 35 years ago [she says] they didn’t have so much information pushed at them the whole time. Maybe that was a good thing. Because even the most laid back person, which I think I am for the most part, can get really nervous and freaky when bombarded with T.M.I.

It’s a problem I deal with now and probably will forever. Now I have What to Expect the First Year, I read magazines and web articles, watch TV and listen to others discuss parenting issues. It’s hard to remind yourself some days that your child will not spontaneously combust if you don’t follow the suggested baby food diet to the letter, or if you spend the occasional evening after work watching Law & Order rather than engaging her in play. KC gets tons of attention and love, yet I still worry about what we might do to hinder her development. The laid back mom in me says, “Relax. She’s loved and she’s got room to laugh, play and be herself. The rest will fall into place.” I like laid back mom. She’s right. I need to let her lead me.

Ah! Speak of the devil! Guess who’s yelling through the box. Maybe Daddy will get her this time. Wait for it…wait for it…yep, there he is.

Moms and Brides

Moms and brides both eventually do the same thing when it comes to hair. Get it chopped. Ok, to be fair, not ALL moms and brides, but many. I did it for my wedding. Let it grow for a few months in order to have more style options. I paid someone too much to style it into a strange combo of koosh-ball and ringlets. Then with a tight-lipped smile said, “nice! thanks!”. As soon as she vacated the hotel room I went to the bathroom and cried. Then, I swear the Gods of Wedding were looking out for me, because I took it down, brushed it out, re-curled, put part up in a barrette that would be hidden by the veil…and had one of the best hair days I’ve ever had. LUCKY. AS. HELL. Could have been a VERY bad day. But, more importantly, even after swearing that I wouldn’t do the typical new wife thing and chop it after all that growing out was done…what did I do? I got one of the shortest cuts I’ve had. It was cute, really cute actually. I miss it. But still. I went back on my word. Just couldn’t resist a change and the chance to have “easy hair”. My husband is always sweet [read smart] and says I look great, but I know he likes it longer.

Now, as a mom, I have succumbed again. I had a pretty nice hair style going on. Told myself a few times I wouldn’t let it get away. Nice longish layers that hearkened back to my wedding day. It looked good in photos where I had it styled. But, that’s the problem. Styling. It takes, like, a whole 20 minutes to blow it out. Seriously. Who has the time? I just cannot bring myself to do it each day for work. I end up pulling it back, still wet, into a half-assed ponytail/knot thing. I can kid myself and say it’s “neat and professional” or “cute and hip”. On me, it’s not. On some women it works. On me, it’s a hot mess and it looks like I just jumped out of the pool, or came from the gym. Sadly, I cannot even use those excuses. So, today, I got it chopped. It’s not horrible. It’s not fantastic either. It’s new and it’s easier. It’s the closest to real bangs I have come in about 10 years. My husband, as always, declared it sexy. I’m not sure that’s really accurate, but I’ll take it! I personally think it looks a lot like “mom hair”. Oh. Wait. I am a mom. I guess any hair would be mom hair.

Here’s a before and after. [I swear it was longer than it looks in the before photo.]

A little better before. What the hell, it’s just hair. It’ll grow back.

Where Does the Time Go?

KC took her first steps not long ago. We caught a few on video. She’s still not walking very far, but she gets better every day. I am pretty sure the real first ones happened at Grandma’s house. That’s the downside to being a working mom. I miss some things. This first year has really flown by. Every other parent I know says the whole thing flies by faster than you can imagine. I’m starting to see what they mean. Where does the time go? Where did MY childhood go? Remember when 5 minutes seemed like an eternity? Now a year feels like 5 minutes. I have adjusted my life a little to make the best of the time I spend with KC. It’s been working. I guess that is the best her Dad and I can do. Just make sure we focus our attention on her for the hours in the week we are there. Weekends are the best time, of course. Now that she’s getting bigger I look forward to more outings like the zoo, or parks. We’d better enjoy it. According to my calculations, she’ll be asking for the car keys in about 3 hours.

Once Upon a Time…

Once upon a time, there was a Lady in Waiting and a Court Jester. Despite all normal rules and regulations about royalty, offspring and who should get the crown, they had a baby girl who is now the Queen. Supreme Ruler of the household. Allow me to introduce, KC. Ruler of the house, our hearts and everyone she meets.

I, Mom, would be the Lady in Waiting. Or at least that’s what I feel like most days. KC is a joy, but GOOD GOD, you just don’t know how much work a child is until you are no longer allowed to be one yourself. Now I spend my free time (naps and bedtime) trying to fit in whatever stuff has gotten neglected while I was chasing her around. TV usually wins. If I’m motivated, I’ll do some laundry at the same time.

I’ve tried to keep a journal since she was born. I’m horrible at it. I wrote less than 10 entries during my pregnancy. Then I tried emailing myself new entries after she arrived. That worked better since I spend most of my day on a computer at work. Now I’ve discovered blogging and I’m hooked. Actually, I’m kind of a wannabe. I’ve got 2 or 3 “Mama Blogs” that I read on a regular basis. These are moms who have taken blogging about parenthood to a professional level. They have tons of loyal readers. They are funny, interesting and insightful. They’re pretty good writers too, which helps. I doubt I’ll ever reach that level of recognition. However, this is fun, so what the hell. I’m giving this a shot. Worst case my mom and a couple of friends read my blog. I’ll still have an archived journal for KC to read someday. Best case, I get the journal and maybe I’ll pick up a few fans. A girl can dream, right?

PS – If you are interested in some of the “Mama Blogs” that inspired me to start mine, check out the Blogroll links in the right-hand column. They are definitely worth it!