2010

So far the year started off with a bang.

Alex and I went to bed at 9:30 Thursday night (seriously) but the dog was gracious enough to wake me at midnight so I could hear my neighbors celebrating with fireworks.  Even better, JG slept through the night in her very own crib and did not wake up until 8 AM the next morning, or if she did wake up earlier I don't know, because when I found her she was quietly playing in her crib.

Thanks be to Jesus.

However, she had to sleep with me last night, as she completely refused to be transferred to her crib.  You see, I nurse her to sleep in my bed and then move her to the crib before we go to bed.  This worked like a charm for months, however in the last month she has been more and more unwilling to sleep in her crib.

I should also mention that I am not good about letting her "cry it out."  It doesn't help that I don't believe in it, but I know that if I enforced the crib a bit better she would probably spend more time in it.  However, like Thursday night, she will sleep the whole night in the crib, so I think that she's been sleeping with us because she hasn't been feeling well.

Who knows.  Does anybody have any suggestions?

Anyway, 2010.  Goals.

--I need to figure out a way of getting out of the house without spending money.  Every time I leave the balance on my credit card increases, which is not good for a girl with no job and no income.  Hopefully the weather will start to improve and JG and I can think of something creative to do outdoors.

--I'm thinking of putting together a class on doll making.  I have no idea how that would work.  I've been pondering it for months.  Like, where would I start?  With the pattern?  Or have pieces sewn up and ready to stuff?  Or, let people design their own doll pattern with my help?

Also, I've been doing this for about six years, so does that make me knowledgeable enough to teach it?

--Find a teaching job for Fall 2010.

I think that's it... other than my obsession with how much cheese I will eat this next summer.  And ice cream, cake, doughnuts... anything I have not been able to eat for the last six months.  In five months JG will either be weaned or her protein-induced weirdness will have resolved itself.

Oh, sweet Jesus, thinking about cheese makes my mouth water.

And, happy new year to all you people.  Have a good one.

Not Allergies

After JG's doctor suggested it I made an appointment with an allergy specialist about a month ago and had been dreading it.  When I had my skin prick test at 14 (imagine lying face down on a table while they poke your back 100 times with pins and possible allergens to see how you react) it sucked.  But I made the appointment for JG after she screamed for three days after I ate some almond poppyseed muffins, which may or may not have been the offender.

My mom and sister both insisted we not go, fearing the skin prick test and how horrible it can be.  But all I could think about was my screaming baby and how wearing it is to try and deal with her when she's like that.  I had to know what was wrong and exactly what I had to avoid.

Thankfully the allergist was very nice and immediately knew what was going on with JG - it's not allergies, it's protein-induced proctitis.  Basically, her colon has a high intolerance/sensitivity to cow's milk and soy proteins.  He said that about half of nursing mothers dump their protein into their milk while the other half don't, and it's common for babies with protein-induced proctitis to suffer from malnutrition -- at this point he looks at JG with her shirt off and says, "Obviously that is a problem she doesn't have."

She's a bit chunky.

Everything I eat goes into my milk.

Then they did the skin-prick test to verify is initial diagnosis.  When the doctor and nurse said that a lot of babies don't usually mind being poked Alex and I looked at each other and almost rolled our eyes, thinking, "They haven't met our child."

Alex held her and, amazingly, she didn't cry at all.  She gave the nurse a crusty look, but was otherwise calm and held on to her dad.

And behold, she is not allergic to anything they tested for.  Not milk, not almonds, not grass, nothing.

However, the allergist suggested I avoid soy products as well.  I love soy sauce.  Booger.

The good news is that most babies outgrow this type proctitis anywhere between nine and twelve months.  She's seven-and-a-half months now, so it is possible that in the next two months she could outgrow this...  But I'm willing to bet she'll have it for the full twelve months.  Which is fine.

I just look forward to eating whatever I want next summer and putting on twenty pounds.  Seriously.  I weigh about 105 right now and I am freezing all of the time.

I have no ass.  My pants don't fit.  But still my boobs are big enough that my old shirts don't fit either.

Joy.

Failure & Success

Sewing Failure:

And sewing success:

Making a pattern for a doll is ten times easier than making the pattern for the doll's clothes.  I find it to be a very frustrating process, but I am slowly learning how it works.  Of course, it helps if I add the extra quarter inch into the pattern itself (second set of pictures) rather than trusting myself to do it myself later with the material (first set of pictures)...  

Hey, I'm learning dammit.  Also, working with knit is sort of a pain in the butt, however the dress/slip looks nice and hangs well.  And it fits her without being overly big or too too small.  

Random note: this is what my mornings look like:

Baby Farts

You know, I never stopped to think how difficult it must be to be a baby.  To have to learn to sit and roll and use your mouth to make sounds.

Or how to get your guts to get rid of that damnable gas that keeps creeping in to your belly.

The best part about this gas is that it attacks in the middle of the night, and it wakes JG up every time.  She can't fart whilst sleeping, no.  She must cry and wake me up so I can hold her, then she farts.  Like an adult.  Loud and lately stinky.

It doesn't matter if she's sleeping in her crib or in my bed, if she's gassy she's awake, which means I'm awake too.

I'm tired.

At what point in life do we start to deal with gas as if it was nothing?  I know for me, growing up in a house where the word "fart" was never uttered let alone released, that maybe I didn't deal with it until I was in college sometime.  

But I know at some point I stopped waking my mother up to share my gassy morsels with her...

Right?

Maybe it's just JG's way of letting me and Alex know that she really is OUR daughter.

Just Curious...

So...

Tiger Woods is a cheater, which I honestly have to say I am not that surprised about.

Think about it, if you were the most popular man on earth, and you could have or do anything you wanted, what would you do?

Okay, maybe your answer is not to cheat on your hot model wife, but hey, everyone to their own taste.

The only thing I am surprised about, appalled really, is his taste in women (other than his hot model wife).  I mean, if you're going to go outside of your marriage for, whatever it was he went for, wouldn't you go for the other hot models?  Or other beautiful women?

Not the trashy, bleached her own hair, has face piercings, looks like a hooker but isn't?  I mean, at least a high paid escort will keep your secrets, and is probably ten-times more attractive than the dozen or so ladies he stepped out on his wife with.

Wait, not ladies... lady is a word reserved for a woman of high-class, who is thoughtful enough not to sleep with another woman's husband.  Tiger did not cheat on his wife with ladies, he cheated on his wife with what looks to me like... well, trash.

What an idiot.  Even worse though, an idiot with bad taste.

Production

I have spent the last two weeks preparing for the Sisters & Friends Boutique (you'll find the address there) my mom is holding at her house in Ogden.  This means I've been making toys like crazy... or, you know, more quickly than I usually do.

Because it normally takes me two weeks to make one thing.

So, please awe in amazement that I made nine, COUNT THEM, nine toys for this boutique.  I know, I am amazing...

Or I just started to have fun making monsters:

These adorable little creatures are available for a $20 adoption fee, which will go toward paying off student loans.

When asked about their future homes, most monsters said, "Please, just get me away from that crazy baby.  She keeps shaking her head and grinning at me..."

I also have two dolls, but I'm trying to figure out their faces:  I think I'm going to have to unpick them and try something else.

They just don't evoke that "ahhhhh, cute" that I was hoping for.

Eh, try, try again.

Also, one last selling point.  If you're still searching for a special gift, and you would like to try and pawn off somebody else's creation as your own, feel free to do so with my toys!

I won't tell a soul.

Quandary

JG is wearing her last diaper.

There are no more diapers in the house.

She just pooped a gallon in her last diaper.

We only have about 20-30 minutes before her morning nap.

Quandary:  Do I run to Costco now to get diapers and bread and such

OR

do I let her sit in a gallon of poo over her nap?

Hmmm.



SOLUTION:

We had to run to Costco.  JG was basically wearing a cup-full of poop (in her last diaper) and I would feel so guilty if I left her in that thing for two hours to find a very red bottom at the end of it.

Diaper rash is the worst.  So, a quick trip through my lovely Costco where I received many strange glances as we raced through the isles.  It was great fun...

Messy Eater

I know, she's cute, what do I have to complain about?

Transitions

Babies.

Babies are interesting beings.

They are constantly evolving and becoming something new.  Who they were a week ago is not who they are today.

At least, this is what I'm learning from JG.  Just when I think I have her figured out, she flips like a coin and she's someone I haven't met before.  Which is REALLY frustrating.

I am a creature of status quo, and love and expect things to stay the same.  I know how to deal with sameness.  And I know having these sorts of expectations for a baby is just setting myself up for failure.

BELIEVE ME, I KNOW.

For those times when I am tearing my hair out and on the verge of collapsing to my knees and submersing my head in bleach, I call my parents.

Thank Jesus they live close.

The amount of sanity I still have left in my head can be attributed to my mother and father.

Thanks you guys.  REALLY.


And to think, this is what makes my life difficult and wonderful all at the same time!

Making some dolls

I've been making some crafty progress.  I thought I would demonstrate to my IMMENSE audience that I am doing stuff... when JG is napping, at least.

I think getting this far has taken me 6 weeks.  Embroidering the faces takes the longest, mainly because I hesitate about colors and what the face should look like.  Then I do the same thing with the hair, I want it to look right, so it took me a solid week of placing felt, removing, cutting, twisting, and then going with my original idea.

I am a seriously slow creative person, especially when I don't have a due date.  However, my mom is having a mini craft fair at her house in two weeks, so I've got to sew together a whole lot of toys... I wonder how quickly I can do that?  I'll post more about that in a little while.

See how excited I am to have them finished?  Now all I have to do is take weeks to make them underpants and dressess... well, that took me a year with the first one.  So, I guess you'll just have to wait and see how quickly (or, in reality, slowly like frozen molasses) I can get these suckers completed.

New Moon Review

*Spoiler Alert -- if you haven't seen the movie and don't want to know anything about it, then don't read this*

First of all, thank you to those fine ladies who gave an afternoon of their time to a lonely and fast-talking stay-at-home-mom.  I really appreciate it and I had a blast.  Movies are made all the better when there is someone giggling beside you.

Now to the movie.

I was not as disappointed as I thought I would be.  However, I just have to say that I am utterly confused about the whole basis of the movie -- Edward and Bella's "love" for each other.  Why do they love each other?  All they do is whine about it, and what do they do other than fly through trees and make kissing look painful?  (Seriously, each time they kiss it's like they are either going to jump into bed right there, or they are going to die because of the immense electrocuting pain that must transmit through their lips.  Ouch.)

I do like Jacob though, I guess if I knew I had to take a side it would be his... until he starts to whine about his love for Bella.  Why are these guys so possessive of her anyway?  Jacob is sarcastic, cute, cut, funny, and easy going, which is a nice break from Edward's being... so pale faced and... brooding?  I mean, if I had to point at somebody and tag them as Emo, it would be Edward.

Also, when Bella and Jacob are riding motorcycles and she stupidly runs herself into a boulder, why doesn't he give her a helmet and teach her how to ride rather than saying, "No more motorcycles, it's too dangerous."

It drives me nuts how helpless she is, and how this somehow makes her more desirable to vampires and werewolves.  She's breakable!  And a total klutz!  She bleeds a lot!  I love her!  

However, New Moon compared to Twilight was enjoyable and I didn't rudely break out in laughter more than once... or twice?  I appreciate the director making Jacob be shirtless the majority of the film, but Edward needs to keep his shirt on (vampire pastiness is not a good thing).

All in all, I'm glad I went.  I enjoyed myself.  Jen and I think we should get together more often (ladies?).

Okay, I'm beat.  Going to bed now... or to watch a lot of bad tv.  Whatever.

If you thought your day was bad...

Were you pooped on?

JG set me up today.  I thought she had a loaded diaper, but it was just a dirty fart.  So I removed the diaper, cleaned her off.

Now, when she's on the table she likes to grab her feet and eat her socks, which angles her bottom up, and makes her appear to be adorable.

While reaching under her changing table for a new diaper,  that's when she let loose a fountain of feces that arced up into the air and splattered on the towel.  She rested a second and then dirty farted, spraying my shirt with poop.

My child pooped on me.

The best part is that wasn't the end of it, she was merely reloading.  The next squirt missed the towel entirely and hit the edge to the table (thank Jesus there's a lip there, or I would of had poop EVERYWHERE).

The worst part is I am still wearing the poop covered shirt.  I looked down and realized the shirt was already stained... and just kept wearing it.  I know, I am disgusting.

But she's the one who let loose.

Stinky baby.





















**Okay, so I emailed people about New Moon, but only got one response (hey Starlynn!), so if you're still interested in joining me (stay-at-home diarrhea-mouthed mom) reply to the email (if you got it) or send a new email... or whatever.  We're looking at Saturday, matinee time sometime.

Let them eat cake!

Ladies and Gentleman, the joy of joys has occurred in my home today.

Wait for it.

I baked a friggin' cake.

Milk free.

Full of delicious.  Little tasty blueberries floating gaily through the fluffy sponge of vanilla goodness.  Covered in frosting.  So much happiness generated on my tongue in one sitting.

Seriously, folks, I am a cake person and it has been killing me to go without.  Chocolate is one thing, it gives me heartburn anyway, so I can forgo that without much of a problem.  But cake?  No.

No.  No. No.

The best part is that I found the mix at Albertson's.  I kept thinking I was going to have to go on some long journey full of adventure and intrigue to find a milk-free cake mix, since that is what the internet kept implying.  Stupid, sly internet, full of the $7 cake mixes that are "guaranteed allergen free" (meaning no eggs, milk, sometimes wheat or gluten).  Implying it's impossible to find elsewhere.

Lucky for me I was on the phone with Mindy (hey Min!) and decided to take the time to check every box of cake mix.  (Seriously, every box.)  And, lo and behold!  Duncan Heines is milk free.  The only allergen in it is "wheat."  I swear they know there are people like me, dying for cake and too damned lazy to make one myself.

(Side note:  I love baking.  Cookies.  Cakes.  Stuff.  But the thought of blaspheming... attempting to make a milk free cake on my own sounded fruitless and aggravating.  I'm an angry person anyway, but to go through the trouble of pouring ingredients in a bowl, mixing them together, and baking it only to have it come out tasting like vomit could send me over the edge... to giving up on cake.)

Cake!  Much deserved after a day when JG only wanted to nap an hour total.  I can't hold it against her though, she's teething or something.

Cake!  (currently digesting in my belly)

Socially Incompetent

Ugh.

Who would have thought interacting with others is a skill? One, if not practiced on a regular basis, that will grow stale and rot. Seriously.

This last Saturday Alex and I were social people -- which is a feat for us. We've spent many recent weekends sitting in our basement watching TV. Mainly old shows from the 70's, sci-fi, and fantasy stuff. Oh, man, the time we have spent in our basement. Poor JG, she hates being in the basement, and we're lazy enough to put up with her hating it.

Good thing she naps for two hour chunks on the weekends. How else could we so thoroughly waste our time?

Anyway.

Instead of being hermits this last weekend, we actually ventured out from our dark, comfortable cave, and broke bread with other people.

This is when I should mention, if you have forgotten, that I am a stay-at-home mother. I spend all of my time with a baby, who luckily for me is growing into a happy, smiling booger. (A 300% improvement over the screaming, crying thing she was for months.)

Now, spending all of this time with a tiny human who doesn't talk, who giggles when I gnaw on her belly, and expects me to carry her everywhere, has changed me.  It has made me socially incompetent.

This does not translate well to adult interactions.

I can't go up to friends and gnaw on their belly's... but, it's almost like I have to remind myself of this. In my head I have to think "okay, adults 'talk' about things, think of some sort of conversation starter."

And when I finally do talk, it's like the flood gates have opened and there is nothing I can do about what comes out and the speed at which it travels.

Friends, I am sorry if I talked your ears off, if I made little to no sense, and if it seemed like I was not finishing any of my thoughts. I didn't realize I was doing any of these things until I reflected on it later.

Oh, man, I am so socially incompetent. I can't even relax when I'm in the company of other people (husband doesn't count). Like any other talent, being social is something that needs to be flexed regularity.

I am so out of practice.

Good thing New Moon is coming out soon.  I have plans!  With people!  (We should probably figure out what time and place and stuff...)

Also, I'm thinking a crafting/sewing night or something would be cool.  Anybody up for that?  At my house?

However, I am warning you now.  I will talk your ear off.  You may leave thinking, "Who is that strange woman who couldn't edit anything before she spoke?  Who thinks poo is funny?"

Oh, yeah, that's me...

Fat Head

See?  JG sort of has a fat head.  It's an adorable fat head, especially with that hat her grandma made, but a fat head non-the-less.

I have been working on creative things... I'm just not very good at taking any pictures of my progress.  I'm in the process of making two new dolls and have a few "monsters" lying around.  This is my doodle of what I wanted it to look like:

And this is how it turned out:

He has a furry brown back and a fleece body and arms with felt "detailing."  His legs stick out kind of funny, but that's what you get the first time you make something.

I think it's kind of cute.  I'm working on the revision.

I don't think Maelly cares.

Cats in Ceilings

This last week I seriously started to question why I am the parent of two cats. Two injured, somewhat retarded cats.

As you know, Mael is diseased. And I was starting to feel pretty confident about his foot healing, up until he figured out how to move the cone so he could reach said food and lick it. With his sandpaper tongue. Which means it's taking forever for it to heal because he won't leave it alone.

Nevertheless, I was okay dealing with his foot.

Then, a chunk of fur fell off his rear right leg and revealed a new inflamed spot.

Effing cat.

To make kitty matters that much more interesting, Opal (who was loving and cuddly before the baby came, and is now hesitant and distant mixed with "You must hold me NOW") was in a fight (read attacked) with some tomcat and has two bites above her tail on her rear. They ooze. And the battle must have been quite the thing, because all the hair surrounding the bites is gone, like she was shaved.

So not just one injured cat, two. I keep looking at Stella and waiting for her to come up with something new (please dog, just don't).

And when Opal is sick or feels gross she prefers to hide. She spent a couple days in the cabinet with my baking pans. Another day with the towels (admittedly, she was accidentally closed in with them, so she couldn't have gone anywhere else if she wanted to). She also hid in JG's wardrobe, but that seems to be a kitty favorite.

Then, she found what to her must have been the celestial door to our basement ceiling (it's this weird opening at the back of our lazy-susan in the kitchen that gives her direct access). I wonder if she hears angels sing when that happens? The best part about her finding her way into the ceiling is that she really doesn't know how to get out. So I can be sitting there checking email or sewing, and hear her scratching, or meowing, from the heavens (read ceiling).

Whenever this happens (yes, this was not the first time) Alex starts to lament how she'll probably die up there and then we'll have to deal with the smell, and how will we find her corpse (by stink, I'm assuming) and blah, blah, blah.

She was in the ceiling for 48 hours.

Then Alex got the carpet knife (razor blade with a handle) out. Thank Jesus we have our awesome 70's acoustic tile ceiling, because it made it that much easier for him to cut out tiles (3), find her, and drag her out by the scruff.

Let me tell you, ceilings are dirty places, and she was one dusty kitty.

And my loving husband was very close to killing her. As was I. Doesn't she know I only have enough emotional real estate for ONE sick animal?

The best part? She got into another part of the ceiling the next morning.

Even better? Alex didn't have to cut anything to get to her.

Oh, man, I'm not sure I'm ever owning another cat.

I stink

Have you ever had one of those moments where you realize you forgot something?  Something that allows you to safely interact with the rest of the human population?

Like, say, deodorant?

Because, oh man, I woke up to get JG last night and when I laid down with her I was like, "What is that stink?" And the embarrassing thing is that it was ME (of course, this is four in the morning, so it's not like anybody else was smelling me... well, except for my infant, but she didn't complain).

I am one of those people who has to apply a smell shield every day, otherwise it's just dangerous to be around me.  Even with cutting out the dairy in my diet, I still stink.

At four a.m. it took me a moment to realize what was going on, and I had a flash back to me getting out of the shower and hearing the shrill screams of an upset baby up from her nap.  I always pause when I hear her cry when she's napping, because sometimes she'll calm herself down and go back to sleep.  However, this time she was angry, and once this child is angry she demands to be comforted, or she'll will throw herself into such a fit that her whole body shakes and she gets angry rashes on her face.

And the cry that accompanies this fit is something no living person should have to be in the same house with.

So in lieu of following my usual routine, I had to go calm JG down, and she was not happy when I had to put her down for two minutes to put clothes on.

Which means that at four in the morning I woke to my own stench.

And I'm really hoping she'll be in for a nap soon, because, oh man, I really need a shower.

New Moon invitation?

This may sound strange, seeing as how I never got through the Twilight book (mainly because I can't stand listening to a teenage girl whine, and it is NOT romantic for a boy to sneak in your room and watch you sleep -- that's called stalking and is EXTREMELY creepy) but I want to go see New Moon.

Mainly because I had a good time at Twilight.  And, yes, I did burst out in laughter multiple times, but luckily the girls (women, really) I was with weren't bothered by it.  If anything, they shared the moment when the vampire "dad" (can't remember his name...) walked out and looked like a talcum powder covered corpse who wasn't old enough to buy alcohol let alone practice medicine.

So, this is an open invite to those interested in going to see New Moon with me this **weekend (or whatever works).  I can't promise not to giggle or make fun of the movie afterwards.  But if you can find it in your heart to help a mother out, one in desperate need of spending time with adults, then I will be truly grateful.

Thank you.

Sincerely yours,
PoetsHead

**EDIT: As Jessica so correctly pointed out, this movie doesn't actually come out until Nov. 20.  My offer still stands, even if it is a month away.
(If you are interested leave a comment or email me if you have the address.  And if it helps to persuade you, I'll sneak some candy into the movie.)

A squid at my child and all I got was this picture

Five months ago I had this thing, this baby, and went from being clueless about babies to absolutely confused.

Whoever tells you that babies don't cry loudly... just tell them that you know better.  My child cries so well that her doctor says that she's "very opinionated."

She really doesn't hesitate to let you know if you're doing something she doesn't like.  And then, for no apparent reason, she laughs at the dog for ten minutes.

A dog who is doing nothing but sitting there.  Seriously.

She also finds the cone-cat very funny.

So, to mark her five-month birthday I am attempting to boot her out of her cradle in our room -- because she is much too large for it -- and finally putting her into her crib in her own room.  I predict that I will not be getting much sleep tonight, but the transition has to happen sometime.  Especially since she seems to try to move in her cradle, but she can't because she's so large in it, so she wakes up, which wakes me up, and now she's spending the majority of the night with me.

I need some sleep on my own man.

Like, now.

Blue Ribbon MOTHER-LOVERS!

Put that in your pipe and smoke it! Yeah! (If you squint past my grinning mug to the chicken with the blue ribbon dangling from his hand, that's what I'm all up in your grill about.)

This week has been interesting.

My cat (the one who is still available if you'd like to purchase him) is in his third week of wearing a cone on his head. Said cone was necessary because he would NOT stop licking his damned maimed foot. So not only have I been caring for JGR, I've also been nursing a sick cat back to health... which is not fun. I have stories... but, I won't share them out of fear of seriously grossing out my small pool of readers.

By the by, my cat has eosinophilic granulomas (warning, the pictures are gross, and he has had this in his mouth, paws, and neck), which requires steroid injections and guarantee's that he will eventually have diabetes. Awesome.

JGR has been refusing naps and bedtime, and screams/cries like crazy when I try to get her to sleep. Joy. It's times like these when I think of how naive high school girls are when they pursue pregnancy in hopes of bearing a bubbly happy baby. (Hey, this happened at my high school.)

Let me tell you, high school girl, do not do it. Babies are freakin' hard, and I've had to push all thoughts of dropping said baby, or throwing said baby, or doing anything un-motherly to said baby out of my head.

I don't want to go to prison.

So it's times like these when I thank the G-O-D that I live near both sets of grandparents and I can pawn her off on them. Er, I mean, have them care for her when I am unable.

She's going through a transition where certain things I'm used to working with her are no longer working. (I have to admit that when I say "things" I mean "boobs," and while they can be one of the last things I turn to, when my boobs don't work, I'm clueless as to how to help sooth her.) So, in hopes of figuring out what the (hell) is going on, we gave her some rice cereal tonight. She'll be five-months-old next week, and she seems to be hungry after I feed her, so why not?

And you know what? Fell asleep like a charm tonight. Cried a bit, but nothing compared to the last few nights.

Now I leave you with some kitty abuse. I don't know how he lives with himself.

These two make me exhausted. I'm going to bed.