Poop

Hello!  I bet you thought I went and died and was never going to return.

Well... that's sort of what happened, but instead of dying I've been teaching.

Which is sort of like dying, but more like having to stand in front of a room of confused, resistant, curious, and poo flinging teenagers.

It is very exhausting, and in seven teaching days, it will all be over.  And thank god I will be able to go back to this crazy circus next year and start all over again.  I really love it, despite my sarcastic tone.

Anyway, I'm really here to talk about JG.  Who, by the way, is hilarious and you've all been missing out.  I will try to catch you up, over time, if I have time.

This last week I decided to give JG the option of peeing in the potty (a small training potty).  I figure she's two (TWO!), she's starting to get irritated at her diapers, and I would love to stop buying them.

All I have said to her is that she can pee or poop on the potty if she wants to, she just has to let me know.

She is so entertained to see her pee it the potty and says, "I pee-peed in the potty!"

Today she pulled at her diaper, we put her on the potty...

she farted...

"I pooped!"

And indeed, a solid poop had nestled itself inside her little potty.  So.  Gross.  But awesome.

She grinned, we congratulated her, and we all watched to poop spin its way down the toilet.

Truly amazing.

Mother

Having two weeks off of school is a blessing (which is saying a lot, because I really hate using the word blessing).  I am taking the time to stop obsessing about my 8th graders and how much they hate me, relax about lesson plans (I really shouldn't), and spend time with my ever-learning 19-month-old.

Ah, my daughter.

I am a mother.  Have you caught on yet that it still creeps me out a little, me being a mother?

It does.

Today I have been thinking about how there are many types of mothers, even though society tends to focus on just two: the stay-at-home mom and the working mom.

I am so thankful (ugh, thankful) to be a working mom.  I have no idea what to do with JG when we're home and I'm pretty sure watching more than 3-4 hours of PBS kids is not healthy for her developing brain.  She even asks for Elmo, and I cringe every time.

Having the ability to go to work and to challenge myself personally is so necessary for me.  At home I commonly fall into the shame-spiral - as my friend MCB calls it - where I get stuck watching TV and procrastinating things I would like to do, but can't figure out how to get the friggen TV to turn off by itself and myself motivated.

I basically turn into a fat lump on the couch.  I have found myself watching JG playing and me feeling sorry for myself for not entertaining her like a good stay-at-home mom would.

I know it sounds strange, but I have a hard time leaving the house when I'm home for more than a few days.  I am prone to anxiety.  So, today, I wanted to leave, but had a really hard time justifying the reasons, or figuring out where to go.  The sad thing is that I know my reasoning is flawed, and I know that it's silly to have an anxiety attack about doing what I want to do, but I can't help it.

So, thank you Daycare for existing and doing a much better job at teaching JG songs and dances, colors and more.  I like being the person who cuddles with her, kisses her little face, and giving her whatever other affection she may need.  I miss her during the week, but she loves going to daycare and her teachers are awesome, and I love benefitting from their hard work.

You could say I am the type of working mother who would like to be a good SAHM, but just isn't.  I'm not sure I'm capable of handling it emotionally.  Which is why I will be enrolling JG in some dance classes this summer, so we can have something to look forward to and I can feel less like a failure.

Don't I just make you so excited to have your own?

Schooled

The first quarter of my teaching career wrapped up at the end of October and all I can really say about that is THANK GOD!!!!

Man.

With the start of a new quarter I feel like I'm catching my stride and starting to know who I am as a teacher.  I was worried for a while that my approach wasn't going to work, but I am starting to see some changes in my students.  I believe I've convinced a few resistant students to start paying attention and give themselves a chance -- I am the most excited about that.  I can't stand the kid who gives up before s/he's even started.

JG is doing really well too, she is loving daycare.  There have been a few times when Alex goes to pick her up she throws a fit, as in, "How dare you try to tear me from this fantastic place!" fit.

The benefit of daycare for us is how much she's learning.  Holy mother, so much learning, far more than what I'm capable of teaching her at home.  The other day she pointed at a face on the cover of a book and said, "Happy."

She was right, the face was smiling, the character was happy.

Oh, and JG is really popular with the other kids, including the older kids.  The other morning we walked in and are instantly surrounded by three and four year olds saying "JG!  JG!  Are you JG's mom?" and then they make a face at her -- this scrunchy face she makes

(Pinch your lips together and scrunch your nose as if something is stinky, that's the face she makes)

which apparently caught on with the kids and the teenagers who help out too.

I have no idea where my child inherited the gene for popularity, but she oozes it.  Everybody loves her.  Strangers at the market (sometimes uncomfortably so), my students (I had to take her to school for a bit one day), her teachers and classmates.

When I leave her at daycare I usually tell her to be good, and her teachers say, "Oh, JG is always good." They say that with a big smile.

It's also crazy how articulate she is for a 17-month-old.  New words to add to her list:

Shoes
jacket
tickle
baby
out
owl
ear
eyes
mouth
juice
hug
read
book (she likes to say "Read book")
grampa

Can you believe that?

And she dances and sings nursery rhymes she's learned at daycare, which seems to be her favorite thing in the world:


Okay, I'll stop pontificating now, and shall work harder next time to resume the use of my sarcastic voice.

Which, by the way, typically hurts the feelings of 8th and 9th graders.

Who would've thunk?

The Horror

JG is 17 months old now and she is gradually growing out of her milk and soy intolerances.  Thank Jesus, because let me tell you, having to avoid those two things drains all the fun out of feeding her.  She still can't eat raw milk (so, having a glass of milk is out), but having milk baked into something is okay... even though it totally gives her the farts.

Which brings us to me.

Before this whole milk fiasco began I loved milk.  Ice cream.  Cereal with cold milk poured over it.  Cream cheese icing.  Soups with cream mixed in.  Oh man... really, anything made delicious by milk, I loved.

And now.

Now.

I'm afraid there may be some sort of genetic reason JG has an intolerance, because I'm almost 95% positive that I am lactose intolerant.

How do I know, you ask?

Let's just say that whenever I eat something made with milk it makes itself known.  At school this last week I made myself some coffee with hot cocoa mixed in (wonderfully scrumptious) and about thirty minutes later I was surrounded by a cloud of stench so thick I worried about students coming up to me and passing out.

It is horrendously embarrassing what milk does to my guts.

The good thing is that my students probably suspect their peers before they think of me.  As far as they know I am devoid of body functions and I'd like to keep it that way.

Unfortunately, milk isn't always silent as it travels the twists and turns of my bowels.  Sigh.

So, it turns out that I've been limiting the amount of goodies I eat... or, I should say, the times.  I totally just ate two doughnuts.  In quick succession.  And a cookie.

I have problems.

I am still alive...

I am still alive, but very exhausted.  So.  Exhausted.

So much, in fact, that it's difficult to hold a conversation with most anybody (sorry Min) outside of school.  You could ask Alex, I'm not much good conversing with him either.

School?  I'm learning so much... mostly through failing, with some success sprinkled in here and there.  My classes have such a wide range of students, from low to high and more, that figuring out how to teach them all is a frustrating process.  And then there are the students who like to try and control the class, or argue, or  just be a general pain in the ass.

I am so looking forward to having this Friday off.

And, for those of you who wanted to know how JG is doing:

She loves daycare.  She is learning so much and I am continually impressed with her teachers.  Four little teeth are pushing their way through her gums, so she hasn't been feeling too well.  

And now I am tired and going to bed. 

So Tired

School starts next week, which means I have been busy with new teacher orientation and getting my room ready this week.

With a broken elbow (see previous post) - which is the sort of broken where you are supposed to ignore the fact that it is broken, but hurts like hell when I push or pull anything.  Such a joy to have a broken wing when I need to fly. (haha haha haha)

JG has also started daycare.  I get to rip out my heart each morning when I leave her behind, bawling and asking me not to leave.  The daycare staff said that sometimes it takes a child up to two months to adjust.

Two months.

I'm hoping that JG is in the swing of things by next week, and I have high hopes for her since everyone I have talked to says that their kid loves it.  And the parents like it too.

In the future I am sure I will like it as well.

Just not so much right now.


And teaching...

Today I went to a... I can't remember the technical term for it, but I went to a Language Arts class for teachers.  Being in a room full of older women who have taught anywhere from 5-20 years makes me uncomfortable.

Why?  Because they all assume I'm a baby, like an 18-year-old they need to coddle and condescend to.  Like "oh, look at how young she is, she obviously has no idea what she's doing."

I understand that I look much younger than I am (I'm 30, by the way), but when I meet women (and it is alway women) who automatically assume I am naive and uneducated, my skin crawls and I shut down a little.

Outside of the workplace I have no problem letting them know they're wrong, but when it's people I will see and work with again I have learned it's better to roll with the punches rather than to bite.  Eventually they will learn what I know and who I am, and I'll just let them make a fool of themselves for the time being.

The funny thing is that I told my new coworker, "Gail", that the ladies behave that way around me and she didn't believe me, until she witnessed it happen from a friend of hers.  Even more hilarious, she put her friend on the spot so we could clear up the misunderstanding.

I am so happy to get to work with this woman.

And now I need to go write my disclosure statement.  So there.

My Child

JG really loves water.

Like, really loves it.  (Yes, that is the dog's water bowl she is sitting in.)

She's even more than happy to play with the water hose.

She is a funny little bug.

Walker, Texas Ranger

Holy crap, my baby is walking.

Walking.

Which, I guess, means I can't technically call her a baby any more, she's a toddler now.  A toddler who demands to be put down in Costco, and doesn't understand when she hears the word no.

"No, JG, there is no way I am letting you walk around - people will run over you and I will have to clean your brains off the concrete."

Because, with me, everything is about JG's brains.

Unfortunately, for me, she did not understand this logic and spiraled into a screaming fit.  In which she screamed the entire time we were in Costco.  

What is my approach when it comes to my child throwing a fit in a public area?  Unfortunately, for the other customers, I just let her.

Look, when it comes to tantrums the first rule is to let them know that their "approach" will not get them what they want.  

Sometimes I will laugh at her (which doesn't improve the situation).  But, mostly I just endure the dagger eyes others throw our way - today it was more along the lines of "please shut your child up so I don't have to listen to what sounds like a goat being gutted."

Anyway, back to my first point.

My child is freaking WALKING.  I really need to get some video, but as you may have deduced, I am not the best mother and have yet to do it.

Mainly because my chin is still dragging on the floor.

Daycare

A couple days ago I called my mom and asked her to go to a daycare open house with me so I could check it out.  I told her that she asks really great questions and that would help a lot, especially since I always freeze up in those types of situations.

I told her the truth, but there was definitely another reason for asking her to come along.  I needed the support of having my mommy there while I checked out the potential place my baby may be going to for 40 hours a week.

It's very freaky.

I know I talked big, saying I can't wait to hand her off to someone else, but as the school year approaches I'm starting to dread it.  Not that I don't get frustrated on a daily basis with caring for my stubborn and brave girl.  Oh.  Man.

But, I'm starting to realize how much time during the week I will not be spending with her.  Forty hours or more.  My mornings will be spent racing to get us both ready to leave the house, making sure I have everything she needs and what I need, and verifying that I have indeed done my hair and put all of my makeup on (because I occasionally forget the mascara).

I do have to look like an adult when I leave the house.

Otherwise I have the potential to look like one of my students.  I'm a 100 lb. waif.  I am smaller than the majority of my students.

It's creepy.

And my nights will be swallowed with dinner, grading, and who knows what else.  I'm just hoping I'm not too busy or distracted to suffocate her with kisses and food.

Anyway.

My mom and I checked out the daycare today and it was awesome, however it will be my plan B if I have to be put on the wait list at another daycare.  The only thing going against it is that it's a bit out of the way in North Salt Lake, but it would only add about 10 minutes to my morning commute.  Which is nothing when I think of how much she liked it there.

We entered the toddler room and JG instantly wanted down so she could mingle and play with toys.  My child was fearless, touching, playing, riding, reading, she was out there and in the middle of it.

All the little boys ran up to her (okay, there were only three boys).  Like, oooh.

JG did not want to leave.

Seriously, it took two attempts to get her out of the room, and even then I had to really hold her the second time.  And outside of the toddler room she walked around (because she is doing a lot of that now) like she owned the place.

If she does go there I am confident she will learn and enjoy herself.  I am just so anxious about being away from her, but I'm not sure if she will miss me.

Maybe that's what worries me?

Pass/Fail

Motherhood is all about passing and failing, either your parenting method works, or it doesn't.  This past week Alex and I have had to change some things around, especially since we were failing more than we were comfortable with.

So, how did we do?

First test:  JG's screaming fits.

You may remember reading about me pulling my hair out while JG threw fits, and me being entirely clueless as to what action to take.

So, Alex gets home Tuesday night and JG is still being a terror.  We both stare at her in frustration, and I let her scream while I make dinner and Alex deals with her.  While we're eating dinner, JG is just rambling along around us and Alex gives her a bit of curry off his fork.  She eats it, goes back to her thing, and then comes back for more.  And more, and more.

My child does not eat.  We have been wrestling with this for months, and her doctor emphasized that I should be feeding her more fatty foods, like butter (which she can't have because of the bloody poop it results in).  I have tried to feed her many things, and the majority of the time she simply refuses, which leads to her being more hungry and results in her being severely irritable.

Thus: screaming fits of hungry rage.

Until this breakthrough.  Surprisingly enough, as a one-year-old she is easily distracted and soon gets tired and irritated of sitting in her high chair.  Most of the food on her tray goes to the dogs.  However, if I allow her to go about her business and then take the opportunity to shove food in her mouth as she comes near me, SHE EATS!  And, she eat enough that I am flabbergasted and a bit humiliated that I didn't think of this before.

This is our new routine: I will carry some type of food with me, say hot cereal, and I will offer some to her as she plays and comes near me.  I refuse to chase after her with the food, she does have to wander back over to me to get some, but happily for me she returns to me at regular intervals and eventually eats enough to satisfy my need for her to be stuffed with food at all times (as is the drive in most mothers, commonly labeled as "food pushing").

This morning she ate a bunch of Cheerios, some pancake, and she drank some hypoallergenic formula (we are gradually starting the weaning process) and some Odwalla strawberry superfood.

I give us a PASS on this test, excuse me while I pat myself on the back.


Second test: SLEEP.

As mentioned above JG is easily distracted, and this crosses over to her nap and bed times.  Nursing her to sleep has turned into a process where I just get frustrated and want to lock her in the closet, and in the end she gets what she wants: she gets to stay up with us.

And I don't get the two hours I normally get to spend with my husband at night.

Since Alex didn't see the closet solution working out for us (and probably resulting in child welfare knocking at our door) he deemed it time to put the crib back together.  Because, as odd as it may sound to you, I was nursing her to sleep in her crib, and we had replaced one gate side with a guard rail.  It made it easier for me to get out... and, unfortunately, easier for her to get out as well.

So on Saturday we put JG to bed in her crib and let her cry for five minutes, check on her, and on for 45 minutes until she passed out in the sitting position.  Chin presses against her chest, body leaning forward, and legs sprawled in front of her.  Alex eased her back, calmed her down again, and she was out.

Success?  Time-wise, yes, it's been taking me two hours to get her to sleep, and most of that is spent trying to get her to lay down at all.  Nap time she cries for about 10 minutes, and bed time is more like 40, and listening to her cry feels like razor blades dancing in my skull... but I am relieved not have to fight with her to get her to fall asleep.

I mean, it's still sort of like fighting... but I feel like I'm more on the winning side.  The mean winning side, because it seems a bit unfair.  But, what in life is 100% fair?

Pass or fail?  I think it's a little of both.  I'm not a big fan of letting her cry herself to sleep, but her negotiating skills (yes, google it, toddlers negotiate like crazy) are getting to the point where I want her to know that when I say "bed time" I mean it.

I am, however, still sleeping her her room when she wakes up in the middle of the night.  Why?

When was the last time you woke up at two in the morning and had to comfort someone back to sleep and then go back to your own room and comfort yourself back to sleep?  It's just easier to comfort together.  Plus, this is a weaning process for both of us.  Sadly enough, I sleep better in her room than I do my own, but I am now going to bed in my own room first.

Small steps, man, small steps.

Sleep Fight Club

I say, "Nap."

She says, "No."

I say, "Sleep."

She says, "Why?"

I say, "You've got to be exhausted."

She says, "You've got to be kidding."


And this is usually the point where I start pulling my hair out, big wads of it that you can see tumbling around the wood floors in my house.

Have you ever been around a sleepy and cranky baby?  Compare it to being forced to spend two hours of every day inside a small jail cell where monkeys are encouraged to throw their feces at you.

It may even be more horrible than that.

Not every day is like that... but most days are.  I have to admit that I am still (for the most part) nursing JG to sleep.  Which means I lie beside her and wait for her to fall asleep, sometimes it takes ten minutes, and sometimes an hour or more.

It just depends on how much patience I have.  There are days where it is limitless and I will wait and wait with her until she finally nods off.  Most days, however, I throw up my hands after ten minutes or so (especially if she's fighting me) and leave the room and let her do whatever it is that she does.

She wins the sleep fight about 50% of the time, the other 50% I hold her down and basically force her to fall sleep.  Fighting sleep is pretty tiring.

For both of us.

Fourteen Months

For those of you who read this blog regularly you may have the impression that I don't like being a mother, that I take my daughter for granted, or that I'm just not very good at this whole "mother" thing.

I will blame all of those things on my writing tone, which I have been told (and I agree) is pretty sarcastic...  sometimes dripping with the stuff.  If you ever meet me it may make more sense.

I will say that I am still learning how to be a good mom, but other than that I despise reading mommy blogs where the children do nothing wrong.

My children are perfect!  When they poop it smells like flowers!  I don't know what a tantrum is?

Nonsense mommy bloggers.  Non. Sense.  Therefore, my approach is more realistic, I like to try to be honest, but I do tend to leave out a lot of the awesome stuff, where I am amazed by her and what fills me with adoration.

My baby is fourteen months old today.  FOURTEEN MONTHS!  I am thrilled how much she has grown and developed.  She talks up a thunderstorm, words include, but are not limited to:

1. Mommy
2. Daddy
3. doggy
4. puppy
5. kitty
6. hang on
7. down
8. thank you
9. mama
10. Maggie
11. really
12. hi
13. that one

and more that I can't think of right now.

JG knows what she wants and will get upset if she doesn't get it, however we are figuring out a negotiating process.  She is growing more confident about walking every day.  And she is hilarious and constantly doing the unexpected.  All the time.

Oh man.  Being a mother is such a challenge, but we are working it out together, one stress-filled and love absorbing day at a time.

Tantrum Thrower

Now it may come as a shock to some that I am looking forward to the fall, when I'll start teaching and JG will start going to daycare.  I know many mothers believe it is sacrilege to want to hand your precious one over to other people... but, honestly?  I think it will do me and JG some good to have some time to each other.

I know, be offended now, and get over it.

My daughter is a very opinionated and strong minded being, both traits I am happy to see she has inherited from her family (and reminds me constantly of my grandma).  However, it also means that when she doesn't get what she wants she has the tendency to blow up.  Something I can definitely identify with, since as a child I once told my PE teacher to F-off because running in 100 degree weather was something I simply would not do.

For a long time this just meant she would scream at the top of her lungs while I made dinner and had to leave her on the floor to protect her from the hot surfaces on the stove.  She doesn't care, she hates being ignored, and when she wants to be held she will throw a fit until she gets what she wants.

We've been working on this, with me telling her that I will not pick her up until she stops crying, and for a bit that strategy was working.

However.

However.

This last week there has been a new development.  I'm not sure when she worked out that when she's hurt and crying I scoop her up without asking her to stop.  So.

So.

Last week I watched her throw herself to the floor and scream when I was on the phone with my sister.  One second she was supporting herself without a problem, and then she used all of her kinetic energy to drop like a sack of very small potato's to the kitchen floor.  Her body even made a small thud when it hit the floor.

On Sunday we were watching Ponyo (eh) and JG was trying to play with the house phone and making noises for us to watch her.  Alex and I had our attention focused on the movie, and apparently this really upset her, because Alex watched her bite her arm and then scream like she had just been stabbed with hot pokers.

Tiny hot poker teeth.

How hard can a 14-month-old bite herself?  Well, initially there were teeth marks, by the end of the day they were welts, and two days later she has bruises on her arm.

Can you believe that?!  My child bit herself so hard she bruised.

I bought a book to help me figure out how to help her through this, I read about 50 pages and then lost it.  In my house.  And no, I don't know how I did that or where it is.  With me, if I go looking for it it's almost a 100% guarantee I won't find it.  So.

So.

It is very hard for me to get anything done while she is awake, because if I am not fully engaged with her she can get very mad.  She's not like that all the time, but enough that I have been conditioned to just give her what she wants (when she can actually have it, we do have rules even if she hates them).

So, I am looking forward to getting some time to myself this fall, even if I will have to work my ass off to learn how to be a good teacher.  Oh, man, I am going to be so exhausted.

I'm not entirely sure what to write... I have come up with about a dozen posts and have failed to write any of them... out of laziness?  Performance anxiety?

It's definitely not to say that nothing has been going on.  Hell, my house has been a bubbling pot of activity this past month.  What has gone on?

1. Lost dog (Stella)
2. Found puppy
3. Found dog
4. Amputated what was left of dog's tail
5. Family reunion (many hot days in the sun with people I'm proud to call family)
6. Brought puppy (now called Maggie) home
7. Celebrated the 4th of July with our very own, very illegal fireworks just three blocks from our police station (we were the pre-show and our neighbors loved it)
8. Cared for a sick and grumpy JG (with a 100 degree fever)
9. Pulled my hair out due to insane puppy and dog combo.

This week I am going to try and post something every day, get myself back into the swing of things.

Also, I'm thinking about setting up a lunch this week, and possibly a movie with people who are interested in such things.  However, I must attach a warning as being a SAHM has made me a terrible communicator and entertainer... so it may just seem like you're eating next to a person you're not entirely aware of.  Not to worry though, JG will make sure you're aware of her, she's good at that.

Also, would anyone be interested in a toy/doll making class given by me?

Braincation

So... three weeks?  That's not pathetic at all for a blog absence.

A lot has been going on, I just haven't taken the time to write about it.  For instance, JG turned one.  ONE! It was a big day for me, mainly because there were days when I told myself, "If I can just make it through this first year..."

Those were the days when JG wouldn't stop crying, I couldn't calm her and I couldn't find any comfort in being a mother.  It was sort of a nightmare and I had trouble imagining why I got pregnant in the first place.

It's not like it took practically two years for me to get pregnant with a viable fetus or anything.

But as the year progressed and we gradually figured out her protein intolerances, we got to know JG.  When she's not having a reaction she's quite a pleasant and funny person.  Lately she's been pointing at my belly button questioningly, and when I tell her what it is she repeats: "elly utton."  The b's are very quiet, she almost has it.

Adorable.

She smiles and laughs easily.  However, she doesn't hesitate to complain, and she's fond of tantrums... we are working on that.

And slowly her guts are allowing her to eat more diverse things, like scrambled eggs, and maybe even cooked dairy (because I accidentally fed her some and she didn't scream-poop and there was no bloody poop either *joy*).

(why yes that is a black eye)

Now that JG has been here for a year, I can honestly say I am the better for it.  I have learned so much.  SO. MUCH.  I am also really thankful that this first year is over, it was one of the hardest years of my life.  

I'm excited to watch her grow, and I hope I can continue to grow with her. 

poop

For those of you thinking about bringing home your very own bundle of joy, I have only one thing to say to you:

You better like poop.

Because as soon as you take that sweet squirming thing home you will have to become fast friends with its poop, there will be lots of it.

And when I say "lots of it" I mean there is going to be more poop than you are accustomed to coming in contact with.  Maybe you've had a dog or cat and they have had the periodic accident in the house, but that is still not comparable to baby.

(I understand that my bundle of joy, when she was tiny, may had produced more poop than normal because of her intolerance, but I stand solid in my opinion.)

Now, when baby poops it is unpredictable in timing and mass.  And aiming.  Say you've just taken baby's diaper off to change it, when BAM! and unexpected spray arches up and over and onto your pants.  Your.  Pants.  Or shorts, or skin, or whatever happens to be in the landing area of the poop.  Because that stuff can fly.

As baby grows up so does her poop.  It goes from a thin goo, to a thicker goo, and eventually to (depending on diet and gut issues) solid poop.  JG's poop differs on a daily basis depending on what decisions/mistakes I've made in what I feed her.  When she goes a day or two without soy in her diet (or mine) she gets some stinky, solid poops.  Okay, well, they are all smelly blobs of disgusting.

I think she prefers to be alone for her solid poops, because she'll wander off to another room and return all stinky.  Like, "Oh, my lord, are toting WMD's around in your pants?!"

Not only do I get to smell her daily gifts (suffocate, more like), but cleaning them up is always a... joy?  I get to find out if a gob of poo will find its way onto my hand, or if the diaper might fly open at the wrong moment and fling poop onto the floor.  Or, maybe the diaper has proven no match and the poo has spread up her back and out the sides onto onesie and pants.

That is always a joy.

What I'm trying to get across here is that in one way or another you will come into contact with your offspring's poop.  It's unavoidable.

Un-a-void-able.

Which is why I always try to make Alex do it.

That's what husbands are for, right?

Tight

Have you ever had the sense that the fabric you are made of is being pulled taught, and the more you move the more shallow your breath becomes?

It's strange, I was really looking forward to having a week off, having time to accomplish some of the random things that have been swimming around in my head...  but, I can't seem to jump start my head into going forward.  Instead it rummages deeper into the past and finds things that I am irritated about, things I have buried and/or thought I was over.

I am still mad at Westminster for the ONE teacher who treated me like a child.  I am angry at her for staining my experience, which up until that point was splendid.

I keep thinking about my grandmother and how much I miss her.  I'm not sure if I'm angry that she's gone, but I keep replaying this memory of when I was about 14 and she gave me this pair of dangly gold earrings.  She asked if I wanted them and emphasized that if I didn't that would be okay.  I looked that the earrings, which to me at 14 seemed gaudy and over-the-top, and told her no, I didn't want them.  My friend Courtney was there at the time and said she was amazed, she could never have said anything like that to her grandmother.  I thought Grandma didn't mind, but I noticed later in the day that her feelings were a little hurt.

To this day I feel guilty for hurting her feelings about something so trivial.  She never said anything, but she was the kind of woman who's eyes spoke novels, if you looked the right way.

I'm also irritated that I can't seem to spend any money.  I know.  Lame.  Every time I go to buy something I think I want the moment I take the action to purchase it I'm not interested anymore.  I'm like a balloon, all filled up with excitement at the thought of having something new, only to deflate when I realize that owning it wouldn't do me that much good.

What happened to the consumer inside me?  I still have that little voice that urges me to buy, but apparently it's being tempered with my budding buddhism, which says that such things are unnecessary for true happiness.

It's true, but I'm 30!  I AM THIRTY, and I have this selfish need to gift myself something (sort of like a pat on the back) for the amazing year I've had: masters degree, baby, SAHM, job, other stuff.  I just can't think of what that gift should be, or when I do I don't want it anymore.  Take that capitalism!

And JG has been keeping me up all night.  She wiggles and whimpers and cries and refuses to let me sleep on my own.  I'm not sure how to rectify the situation, I know that she's miserable because of teething, but when we're both miserable the next day due to little sleep no one is the better for it.

Poor Alex, he the one having to deal with all of this.

Hey

Marriage Ref is hilarious.

and

I'm really digging Ugly Betty.  I'm going through the first season (checking it out from the library) and I find it adorable and interesting.  Some of the writing is a bit weak (repetitive), but the characters totally make up for it.  And anytime a television show is in its first season you've got to forgive some minor snafoo's.

I have only watched the first eight episodes, mainly because I was using it as an excuse to do nothing... which I really don't need any help with.  I have been doing nothing for two weeks now.

JG, on the other hand, is on the verge of walking.  It started with pulling herself up to a kneeling position.  Over the past three days the kneel has turned into standing, and she is using EVERYTHING to stand.  Along with the standing she is starting to take a couple of steps.

Oh.  Crap.

Oh, she has been refusing to sleep on her own.  I'm putting it down to teething, but man am I tired.  I'm also going to use that as my excuse for doing nothing.

(Now, when I say "nothing" I mean in terms of crafting or anything productive for me.  I have been lesson planning and whatnot for my one class.  But, I get home, I do nothing.  I watch Ugly Betty.)

This next week I have spring break.  Spring mother-loving-break!  Nine consecutive days of no schedule, no driving an hour all over the valley to get to where I need to be, and hopefully getting things done.

Eh.

It can be very grating to spend my mornings with a group of lazy, apathetic teenagers.  For the most part they are your average 14/15-year-olds, eyes glazed over, talking non-stop, and drinking overly caffeinated beverages.  However, the majority of them are also brilliant, which may only add to my aggravation.

Suffice it to say they may be rubbing off on me.  I have always been a procrastinator, but it may be getting worse.  For example, I haven't updated this blog for a week.

I just didn't feel like it.

It's not like nothing happened, I did turn 30 last week.  THIRTY.  

JG is cutting two teeth, which is really adding to her...um, pleasant demeanor?  Last night she would not sleep without me, so I just threw the towel in and went to bed early with her.  It's uncomfortable, my arms fall asleep, but by golly she didn't cry all night.  (We here at the PoetsHead household don't have the patience for the "cry it out" method.  I've adopted my sisters logic: there is such a short window of time where you can fulfill ALL of your child's needs, why deny them something that can be so easy to give?)

Mael is out of his cone.  For now.  Already I can see his foot getting bad again, but I figure that he should have some time out of the confinement of his cone.

Alex brought home a Doctor Who pinball machine.  He now has FOUR pinball machines.

I am such a good wife.

I got my hair cut.  It's really short and I really like it, but the back of my head and neck are cold all the time.  What is up with that?

And, finally, JG is 10-months-old.  Holy crap, she'll be a year-old in no time.  

(Here she is last month, taming a wild balloon Alex gave her)

Words

I was being a bad mother earlier and letting JG play with plastic bags she found on the shelves while crawling around.  She had pulled one of the plastic tab things off and I bent over and said "Let mommy have that."

And you want to know what she said?

"No."

(I took it from her anyway, the sooner she learns that what she says doesn't matter the better...  in regards to the long list of things I do not want to find in her diaper.)

She continued to play with the plastic bags and started choking/coughing (not on the plastic tab), I asked her if she was okay, and you want to know what she said?

"Yeah."

Alex can confirm that.

Holy crap.

Words.

She'll be ten months old on Sunday, and in addition to those two words we have heard her say, "Hi", "Dad" (though Alex claims she didn't - even though she looked right at him and said it), and maybe "Mama."  However, she hasn't really looked directly at me and said that, but when she's upset she will repeat it until I scoop her up.

She also tries words.  She'll look at the cats and a sound similar to but not quite like "kitty" comes out of her mouth.  Other maybes include "dog" and "Stella" and maybe "Delihla" (her grandparents dog).

On the unfortunate front she had a bloody diaper on Monday, most likely from something she ate, not something I ate.  In hopes of helping her colon heal I am going back on my strict no milk diet.  No more milky goodness for me.  But that's okay, and I'll explain more in my next post.

Fortunately (or not) the craving part of my brain demanded that I buy donuts on Sunday, so I bought a cake donut and a jelly donut and ate one in the parking lot and the other in my driveway.

In about five minutes.

Seriously.

So.  Good.