I love an excuse to eat candy

Happy Halloween!!!!!!

As it turns out, I cannot stop taking Olivia for cheesy photo shoots and putting weird things on her head. Also? I cannot stop spending an unholy amount of money on said photos.

Olivia is going to be a ladybug for Halloween.



I'm going to be a First Time Mom Who Has No Sense of Style and Needs a Root Job and Possibly (Definitely) Some Lip Gloss. It was incredibly easy to put together.

Mark doesn't have a costume, but I think he should go as Flavor Flav. Or Dick in a Pumpkin.

What is your halloween costume?
Whatever it is, have a happy weenie!

The day I struck my mother blind with my Lady Business.

I wish I was kidding.

Last week, I went for my Annual Exam. For the Lady Business.

We all know that every Lady Doctor in Northeast Ohio has seen (and probably had an arm elbow deep in) my Lady Business in the past two years. But still. I've gotten kind of used to that region going back to being one of the least publicly viewed parts of my body. Call me crazy.

I was feeling a little apprehensive, and that was probably the reason that I almost crapped my pants when the nurse told me to take off all! my! clothes!

Nurse: Take off all your clothes and put on this gown.

Me: You mean waist down?

Nurse:No. ALL your clothes.

UGH! I hate when I ask those kinds of questions. If she meant waist down, she would have just said that, jerkstore. But who knows? Maybe she told me to take off all my clothes because she was bored, and how funny would it be if a patient was naked when the doctor came in muahahahahahaHAHAAAA!!!!!!!

For some reason, I have a strange fear that I will take off the wrong items of clothing. I'm afraid that I won't be paying attention, and they will tell me to take off my socks, and I will take off my bra instead. I believe it's along the same lines as my hiding my underwear neuroses (not aware of my underwear neuroses? Catch a glimpse here, and here).

So. I took off all my clothes, explained to both the nurse and midwife that no, I am not using birth control, and I do not plan to use birth control but hey! Thank you for your concern. And also? Let me school you on the difference between a fresh InVitro and a Frozen Embryo Transfer - no problem at all, because I totally enjoy futility! No, really, I look forward to explaining it to you next year!
I'm even willing to explain to you annually how 'transfer' is different from 'implant' and no, actually Jon and Kate did IUI so I wasn't really afraid that I would have 8 kids too but hahahaha YOU ARE DARLING, do you know that? Can I get a pap every month? Because this shit right here is the highlight of mah life.

I was so glad to put my Lady Business away and get home to mah baybee.
My Lady Business? She had other plans.

My mom stays at our house on Monday nights. She lives an hour away and watches Olivia on Monday and Tuesday, so it's just easier for her to spend the night and avoid an extra 2 hours in the car.

On a seemingly unrelated note, I've started taking baths with Olivia because she wants to drown herself and I am just so not down with that. So it's easier to restrain her and her death wish if I am in the tub with her. I don't believe I ever mentioned this to the Internet. Or to my mom.

I do have a point.

Since my mom was supposed to be in the basement using our treadmill, I left the bathroom door open while I was getting Olivia ready to get a bath.

And my mom...
My poor, sweet, innocent mom...

See, she didn't know that I was bathing WITH Olivia, so she thought that she would come up for bath time.
And I? I didn't know. I thought I had two floors of safety.

We decided to perform a brief reenactment to better describe the horror that followed...

Scene 1: I was completely nekked, bent over Olivia like this, taking her clothes off and just generally letting my Lady Business enjoy the scenery.



Scene 2: My mother innocently reaches the top of the stairs to see EVERYTHING. It was hard to hear her over the sound of her eyeballs bursting into flames and immediately turning to ash, but I think she said something to the effect of, "I DIDN'T KNOOOOOWWWW! AHHHHHH!!!!!"



And then we agreed to never speak of it again. Except to the Internet.
Mah Laydee Biznass: She can't be contained.

So, how 'bout that swine flu?

I had a few ideas for blog topics this week, but some of them required thought. And I have a cold. And it's been at least a week since I pissed off the Internet. So I'm going to leave this up to you and the comments section, and just hope that someone calls me a disgusting human being because I simply CANNOT HEAR THAT ENOUGH, thank you.

Here's the short of it: We aren't getting the H1N1 Vaccine.

The Swine Flu vaccine. I hate when people call it the Swiiiiine Flu. It makes me picture a pig with barf on its chin and snot running out of its nose. Which is gross and makes me afraid that I will stop having a love affair with bacon, that dirty sexy salty piece of pig ass.

So just call it H1N1, mkay?

(I realize this is not your problem, my weird mental images, but I've got to share it with someone and I choose you, Internet. I choose you.)

I do vaccinate, according to the AAP schedule. But we aren't a flu shot family. We don't get the regular flu shot, and we aren't getting the H1N1 either. And I can just hear the cracking of knuckles getting ready to rip me a new pig hole for not getting it, and to them I say:



I did some research, but really just never planned on getting it. I don't really think that it would hurt, but I also don't think it would help.

I know lots of people are undecided and want to hear both sides... Tell me, are you getting the H1N1 Oinky Oinky Ruin Bacon Enjoyment For Life Flu Vaccine? Or not? Why?

Eight Months. And by eight I mean ate.

WAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! Olivia is eight months old. EIGHT.MONTHS. And full of The Cute. That picture was taken while Olivia was "winding down" for bed time.

Yes those are Christmas jammies, by the way. Because I was behind on laundry and so I thought, meh, nobody will see these jammies and ho ho ho who cares if its October. Then of course, Olivia starts with The Cute, and then with the I'm Going To Stand Up in My Crib Muahahahahaha Mom Your Life is Over.

Exhibit A: You're screwed, really. Oh, and also? Don't ever plan on putting away the laundry while the baby sleeps and can't see you over the bumper because that shit does.not.fly. I just can't even believe how fun Olivia is lately. I have so many things that I want to remember about her right now, and so yay yay yay bullet points!

(Why do people hate bullet points? I do not. Just so you know. If you do, then I'm sort of sorry, but not really, ya know?)

- The drama: it continues. This kid? SO DRAMATIC. She loves everything that is awful for her, meaning anything that carries an electric current or will fit down her throat. And if you take said death toy away? OH! Misery and WOE. WOE!

There is the lip pout, followed by the silent scream, followed by the massive gasp of air and then finally, beautifully, the Howl of Doom. Extra special treat if she is on her belly at the time. She will put her face flat on the floor and lay there and cry. Like, it is all too much for her to bear and so she just freaking gives up because what is the point of living if you cannot shove the medicine dropper down your throat?

When she gets ready to cry, she puts both hands on her head, or on her forehead. Like, "DOH! Woe!"

- Attention whore. She loves to flirt with strangers. We were at a wedding a couple weeks ago, and Olivia could not get enough of the people sitting at her table.

Proof: I will get you with my cuteness, and I will inevitably spit up all over your pretty pretty dress...

- She LOVES peekaboo - with a blanket, around the corner, from under the high chair - that cracks her up every single time.

- She is still doing the inchworm crawl. But her newest accomplishment is figuring out how to sit up on her own from a crawling position. She crawls, sits, looks around, crawls, sits...you get the idea.

(I stayed up until 9:45 last night trying to upload a video of this maneuver, which is, like, really really late for me. I never figured it out because it is possible that I am a moron. More than possible. Ok, it's definite - I am a moron and have no idea how to work my fancee video camera.)

(I could read the instructions, but I can't find them. Perhaps Olivia ate them? Like she tries to eat everything else, I'm sure she could shove an entire owners manual into her mouth.)

- Any time she is a crankster, I can make her laugh by saying, "What are you DOIN" in a deep man voice. Seriously. I can get a smile during the very worst melt down with that trick.

(Also, on above-mentioned video. I am awesome at blogging.)

- Still not a fan of the sippy cup. For drinking. She is, however, a fan of throwing the sippy cup on the floor and then looking down to see where it went, then yelling until I pick it up so that she can throw it on the floor and then look down to see where it went then yell until I pick it up this is the song that doesn't end it just goes on and on my frieeeeeeeeeends.

-We survived our first cold over the weekend. Olivia was a total snot monster with a fever and cough. And a sneeze. It was no fun, and we spent a number of hours sleeping in the chair with Olivia because she could not stay asleep laying down.

While I definitely did not enjoy Sick Baby behavior, I did love being able to lay with Olivia, because she never lets me hold her anymore. Too busy taking over the world and whatnot.

- We are officially OFF of Lexus formula. SUCK IT, ENFAMIL! SUCK IT HARD, REPEATEDLY! She's completely switched over to the Target brand formula that is a complete rip off of Enfamil Gentlease, and is $10 cheaper for a YOUGE can.

(Dear Target: You.Complete.Me.)

- I'm trying to introduce table foods but am afraid that mah baybee will choke. She did scarf down a pierogie last night, though, and seemed to love it. She likes puffs and yogurt puff thingys. What else should I give her? (Explain it to me like I'm in Kindergarten.)

Meh. Throwing this in, because who could be unhappy when looking at that? WHO?

Working vs. Staying at Home

So.

Some people with kids work. Some don't. Who cares, you say?

Well.

Apparently, a lot of people. And whichever side you find yourself on, you have no doubt felt the sting of a snarky comment from the other side of the fence.

You stay at home? Wow! You must have so much free time!
You go to work? Well, I'm not sure how you do it - I could never leave my kids with someone else.

I know I've been the "victim" of some comments that made me want to slash some tires. Like, YES I leave Olivia with a sitter and she sees her more than me on those days. YES I miss a lot of things. NO I don't really feel guilty and I don't care if you think that makes me sound shitty. NO I don't wish I could be at home. YES, I think you should promptly shove your opinions up your ass.

And, oh, I know it goes the other way, too. You threw away your education and career to just stay at home? I could never stay home, I would be too bored. I worked too hard to get where I am. As if you just gave up something great to sit around and watch Blues Clues all day.

Rude. Rude. Rude! Or...not? I don't know.

I think it really has to do with your audience and your delivery. Just like anything else. You can say something and mean one thing, and that person can take it a completely different way. Any way that you describe your choice, you are automatically giving reasons why the alternative is the lesser choice.

Why do I work? Because I would go crazy if I was at home all day. I would eat nonstop and I would watch TV, and I would probably make Target verrrrrry profitable. I need adult interaction. I WANT my paycheck and all the benefits associated with my job. So does that mean that I'm saying that stay at home moms don't want all of those things? Or that I think they just watch TV all day and shop and falalalalala?!

One point that came up was asking where a working mom takes her child. Which seems to be an innocuous question, but we all know that the delivery is everything. Let's say that I, as a working mom, ask another working mom, "Hey, where does your preshus baybee go during the day?" I'm sure that wouldn't come across as rude, but just as an inquiry.

But, how about someone who doesn't work? Who says something like, "Where does your preshus baybee GO during the day?" And you think, what the hell do you mean where does she go? Why, I leave her in her crib all day with a few bottles and a chainsaw! Duh!

Here's what I think about being a working mom: It's freaking hard. It's busy. When Olivia is awake, I spend every moment with her. I play with her, I feed her, I take way too many pictures of her. Here is my workday routine:

5 - 6 a.m. Wake, shower, COFFEE, dry hair, dress, makeup
6 - pack daycare bag, pack lunch, load car, walk the dogs
6 or 6:30 - Olivia wakes - change diaper, dress baby, give meds, bottle, play
7 - 8 leave for sitter, drive to work
8-4:30 work (M,W,F workout at lunch; T,Th run errands)
5 - pick up from sitter
5:30 get home, walk the dogs, feed Olivia and play, start dinner, bathe Olivia
6:30 put Olivia to bed
6:45 - 9 see Mark, finish and eat dinner, make bottles, set out clothes (me and Olivia), return emails/phone calls, run errands/pay bills/blog/whatever the hell else.
9 - bed.

Rinse. Repeat. And I am lucky enough to have a husband who cleans the entire house and helps with laundry and takes care of the yard. I can't imagine being single or having a lazy sloth of a husband.

I really don't care if people stay home or work. I also don't really care what people do all day when they stay home. I assume they do a LOT. When I am off for 3 or 4 days in a row, and I am with Olivia that whole time, I am EXHAUSTED. So I imagine it is exhausting to care for your child (children!) all day every day.

People say that they don't care - that they don't judge, do what's best for your family, puppies kittens rainbows. But the reality is that we DO judge each other.

I am not going to sit here and say that I haven't thought some really rude things from time to time. Not about a stay at home parent in general, but about particular situations. Like, if you can't pay your mortgage, but you still go on vacation and buy all the new Gymboree outfits because you had a coupon? I'm judging you.

And I find it really hard to believe that people don't take issue with working families - you know, the whole leaving your kid to be raised by other people thing. Because if I REALLY wanted to stay at home with Olivia, we could make some serious lifestyle changes and make it work. But I don't want that, and I guarantee that there are a lot of Internetters out there calling me selfish.

Tell me, my dear Internet friends. What do you think?

(Don't be assholey in my comments section, mkay?)

You know what's funny? Rugs.

Over the weekend, we went to Target to buy some new throw rugs for the kitchen.

Because someone peed on the old ones, and I don't want to throw anyone under the bus here, but it was either Baxter, Milo, or Mark. You can draw your own conclusions.

But we tried to wash the Pee Rugs and they got totally funky and misshapen. Kind of like my midsection - lumpy and puffy in weird places. And while that does blow a bit of a fatty, I am never really sad to have a valid excuse to spend more money than necessary at Target because Target is pretty much the wind beneath my wings (or flabby sides of arm beef if I'm going for accuracy).

So we go to Target and we strap Olivia into the cart like a big girl. Which, OMFG you guys! She sits up like big girl, the only certainty now is that she will achieve world domination very very soon! And so I say to Olivia, in a perfectly normal voice, "let's go get some rugs."

That statement totally cracked her shit up! Like, belly laughs. And she is not much of a belly laugher. Giggles, yes, but belly laughs are a rare treat usually reserved for times when I yelp from her pulling my hair or digging her fingernails into my nostril.

I kept saying Rugs during our 40 minute Target trip and she cracked up every single time. And later that night, after a nap and a delicious banana dinner, I scored a video of Mark saying Rugs and Olivia laughing. The next day, she was being grouchy before a nap, but would crack a huge grin any time I said Rugs.

Right now I'm in Florida on a business trip. Without Olivia - she's with daddy and grandma - and everytime I think of her laughing about Rugs, I get a huge grin. Which is nice for me, but impretty sure that people think I am high and I fully expect to be presented with a pee cup tomorrow morning.

It can't be Friday soon enough. RUGS!

7 Months: We're about to be in a world of trouble.

Do you see that? That! Right there? Is a baybee!
A BAYBEE WHO IS ABOUT TO CRAWAAAAALLLLLLL!
The only problem is that her arms? Have not gotten the memo. She does more of an inchworm move. Across the room. To try to put dog toys in her mouth.
Oh...boy.

The past few weeks have just been out of control. As in, we can no longer control this baybee! This...person! She is getting opinions - like, I don't want green beans GIMMEH MANGO!

And I have to be all NO! YOU CANNOT HAVA THA MANGO!
(And then I slap my ass, because obviously.)

This baybee? Is finally crossing the threshold of being smarter than the dogs.


The dogs? Just hope that we drop some of those green beans. Or mangoes. Or turds, whatever, they'll eat anything.


Olivia lurves her some jumperoo. She gets in there and jumps (in a jumperoo - shocker!!) and yells and plays.

She giggles.
She talks. She says amazing things, like:
GAAAAAAAAH! gagagagagagagaaaaaaaaaaa aaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhh
Haaaaaiiiiiiii*
BA! BA! BA! .....................BA!
Geeeeeeeee.

She plays in her crib, and whines when she's ready to come out. If you stand out of her sight, you can watch her yell, then get really quiet and poke her head up to see if anyone came.

Just this week she started handing us her toys. Like, "here, slobber on this!" And then she smiles and takes it back. Rinse, repeat.

The most fun thing to do EVAH! is bang things together.
Except when you bang things together like your smooshy preshus baybee face and your giant plastic flower...then that is the worst thing EVAH!

No! Wait! The boogie sucker is the worst thing EVAH! I know this because we had our first cold. But thanks to the fountain of snot, we learned that Olivia can sit up by herself like a big girl. You know, because she sneezed a giant wad of snot onto her face, and I had to run and get a tissue. She sat up an watched me leave and come back.

Which was pointless because everyone knows the snot just ended up on my hand anyway because little preshus turned her head as soon as I came at her with a tissue.
Is that drool on her chin? Or snot? You just can't tell until you touch it.


We got the green light to try to reintroduce dairy. So we're slowly sneaking in some Gentlease - or, more accurately, the dirt cheap Target ripoff.
Cost of 24 ounces of powder Enfamil Nutramigen AA Lipil? $78
Cost of 24 ounces of Target Gentlease Ripoff? $12
What will I do with all that extra money?
Roll around in it naked because obviously.

She is the best way to start and end a day. Naked money rolling or not.

*Would you totally make fun of me if I told you that Olivia has been saying "Hai" for a month? Like, hi. When you go to get her up from a nap, or when someone comes home.
If you would totally make fun of me: She does not to that.
If you would not totally make fun of me: She says HAI! I swearz!

And so now I call her Stinkfinger.

I should know better than to proclaim how great everything is. Mah baybee is easy, and blah blah blaaaaaaaah.

Yes, last Thursday I put Olivia to bed and then wrote a smug, lame little entry about how fantastic everything is and how much easier my life is than yours. And then I watched some TV and probably ate, because I love to eat and can't stop doing so even though my pants recently had the police come to my house and try to arrest me because they just couldn't stand being held hostage by my oppressive girth. But I sat down and my stomach roll smothered my pants to death and so it was all OK, no jail.

Anyway. After I put her to bed, I was thinking that I should have cut her fingernails because they were really long. Like, long enough that I thought about maybe dressing her in a red and gray sweater and fedora.

Ah well. I'll cut 'em tomorrow night.

The next morning, Olivia woke up with a...gift for me? In her diaper? It wasn't even mother's day or my birthday or anything!

Changing Olivia is like a wrestling match lately. She wants to ROLL OVER! And CRAWL(ish) AWAY! And EAT WHATEVER IS NEARBY! And shove her foot in my face for some NOM! Sometimes it is amusing, and sometimes it is.not.amusing. There is just no telling which way she will go or what exactly she will do.

Like, who knows? Maybe she will reach down into her poopy diaper at the exact same time that you open it, and come up with four Freddy Krueger fingernails full of poo?!

Or, she will DEFINITELY reach down into her poopy diaper at the exact same time that you open it, and come up with four Freddy Krueger fingernails full of poo!!!

So I am all dressed for work, ready to head out the door to the sitter, and I have to take a break to dig poo out of Olivia's long fingernails. And one might think that is easy, except that she really really really REALLY! wanted to put those poopy fingers in her mouth. In my mouth. In her eye. In my eye. Etcetera, ad nauseum, woe.

And so now I call her Stinkfinger.

It is amazing what comes up on Google Images when you search "stinkfinger."
And by amazing, I mean freaking disgusting.
But this was my favorite:


(No political agenda behind this photo, by the way, so don't bother commenting about how Democrats eat babies or Republicans hump kittens.)
(Unless you are being funny and not assholey, then go ahead.)

Tell me your favorites.

I was just discussing my blog with Mark, and we decided that I am boring right now. I asked him what I should write about, and he looked around the kitchen and then suggested that I write about a blanket. So he is a bevvy of ideas, clearly.

It's all Olivia's fault, really. If you want to blame someone for the suckage of this blog, blame her. When she isn't having horrid reflux, or dangling from her crib, or shitting on someone's floor? Well, I really have nothing interesting to say.

If I can't write about shit, near-death experiences, or vomit, what can I write about, ya know?

Olivia is great right now. Adorable, fun, easy(ish), growing like a weed yet still looking like a 3 month old at almost 7 months. Work is good. Marriage is good. My ass is too fat for all of my pants, but I have a Bella Band so whatever.

(The good news: now that I've told you how good everything is, it is all bound to go to hell. So yay! Blog fodder!)

Ugh. If you haven't clicked away already, which you should have because this post is awful and boring...

Tell me - what are you reading these days? Blogs, I mean. I purged a lot of things from my Google Reader recently. And by a lot, I mean that I went from 304 subscriptions to 27.

First comes sippy cup, then comes drivers license.

We had our 6 month well visit last week. And while I feel like Olivia is a Giant Godzilla Baybee, she clearly is not. Like, people probably think we don't feed her in an attempt to force her into some sort of sick babyrexia so that she will be skinny.

13 lb. 5 oz (5th percentile) and 25 inches (20th percentile).

The pediatrician declared her to be perfect! In every way! And OMFG is she strong, whoa holy crap she is about crawl! And, hey, by the way, have you considered starting her on a sippy cup?

Whaaaa?

What the pediatrician said:
Well, now that she can sit assisted, you could give her some formula or water in a sippy cup and let her get the hang of it. Don't get the ones with the flow restriction so that she can get some liquid without sucking. Just let her give it a try.

What I heard:
Well, why don't you just give her your keys and let her try driving the car? Not on the road or anything, just maybe in the parking lot or something. Just so she can get the hang of it.

I mean, HOLY FREAKING HELL! She is a wittle baybee. And now I'm supposed to give her a cup? Then I come to find out that other, better mothers started their kids out on sippy cups at FOUR months and so now I'm just getting ready to call the 800 number to order Hooked on Phonics because I have clearly (clearly!) started a delay of epic proportions.

She can't use a cup yet and she will never REEEEAAAD! Woe!

Dear Internet,
When did you start your preshus(es) on the sippy?
And which do you recommend to start?
Much Love,
Jennepper.