Christmas in the air, baby on the wall

So far, every age has been my favorite. At three months, when she started smiling at us. At six months, when she was laughing. At nine months, when she became more mobile. At 12 months, when she started walking, and ever since with her expanding vocabulary and communication skills. 

This age is not my favorite. This age is exhausting and terrible. She's increasingly finicky and opinionated. If she doesn't get what she wants, she melts into a blubbering limp noodle. If she gets what she wants, but not EXACTLY the way she wants it (i.e., her water in the pink cup instead of the purple one), she melts into an unreasonable, inconsolable terrorist. 

And she hits! Oh. My. God. The hitting. She's outta control. Nothing helps. Not ignoring it, not timeout, not acknowledging her frustration, not using my angry voice. I'm about to just slap her back each time. I know it's terribly hypocritical and ineffectual to teach someone not to hit by hitting, and I really don't feel like being abusive, but it's all I have left. The weird part is that most of the time, she's happy when she slaps you. She will gladly walk up to you, seemingly innocent, and then bam! You just got slapped. We're hoping it's just a phase, but meanwhile, we are living in fear, and she lives on the wall. I'm hashing out a plan to set her up on a playdate with other children, in hopes that when she hits one of them, they will take her down to China town. Of course, this requires someone else's child to be the sacrificial lamb, but it's a cruel world, and I feel like this lesson is better taught by someone other than me.

Here is an illustration of how big of a turd she's been lately, as evidenced by our holiday photo shoot.

The Devil's child.

At first, this one seems cute until you really zero in on her face. Then you see that it says, "I'll effing cut you."

In other news, we acquired our Christmas tree this weekend. It was an all-day event. This tree really kicked our ass this year. First, I knew it would be super muddy and realized as I was bundling up the wee one that she has no shoes to accommodate the messy terrain. So we made a quick stop at the local Wal-Mart, all bundled up in coats, scarves and hats. Of course, they did not have normal plastic rain boots for toddlers, and the plain pink snow boots were not available in her size. That left us with Disney princesses or Dora. Stuff with big characters all over it gives me anxiety, but I was really starting to sweat, so it needed to be a snappy decision. We went with the princesses because they lit up when she walked, but they went up to almost her knees and had no give, so when she was thrown off balance, she just toppled over.

The 10 layers she was wearing probably didn't help

When she fell down, she just laid there because she couldn't really bend any of her limbs. We were there for the normal hour or more on a quest for the most perfect tree. It began to rain. We were all soaked. Beeb was soaked and muddy. The two of us were non-committal about every tree. In truth, probably any tree would've been just fine. And then Trinity comes up to me and says two words that no mother wants to hear, especially when you're stranded in the woods: "I poop."

 Uh oh. Shit just got real. Literally. So I yell to Travis, "We gotta get outta here!" and he instructs me to just pick any tree so we can go. I start to panic. I don't want to ruin Christmas. And then, in the farthest corner of the lot. I see it. The tree I want. He bends down to start sawing, and I scream "NO!" What if it's not right? So I do a quick feverish scan of all the other trees, and then come back and declare this one The One. Trinity thinks it's hilarious that Travis is bent down underneath a tree, so she decides to help.

 Every other family at the tree farm grabbed a tree stroller, so you could wheel your tree back to the tractor after sawing it down. Not Travis. Why? Because Travis is a man. This seems to be his excuse for all his other gross and annoying habits as well. This tree is bigger than any other tree we've ever had before, but he still thinks he needs to carry it back. Being that we are in the far corner doesn't help, but he heaves it onto his shoulders and huffs and puffs it all the way back to the tractor pick-up area. He is now sore, and probably bruised. But still a man.

Princess Poopypants

She smells terrible.

We board the tractor with a few other families, and Trinity starts to get vocally angry that no one has helped her out in the diaper department yet. So she refuses to sit down, and starts screaming "I poop! I poop!" I'm sure the other riders were like, "Oh, that's what that smell is." So as Trav goes to pay for the tree, I take her back to the truck to change her diaper and realize I didn't bring wipes. I do however have tissues since her nose has been runny, and by some miracle that makes me almost believe in a god, I find a water bottle to create makeshift wipes. Let's just say it was still a horrible experience. 

We get the tree back home, and it doesn't fit in the part of our house where we usually put our tree. So first we have to trim it. Then it doesn't fit in our tree stand. So Travis fashions something out of wood blocks and other random wood pieces to weigh the stand down. It doesn't work. The tree topples over. He finally gives up and sends me out for Wal-Mart trip # 2 of the day. Don't judge me. It's like 2 minutes away and really convenient in times like this. I find the daddy of all tree stands and bring it home. We finally get it all set up, and I start decorating, and we run out of lights before I get to the top. I feel so defeated. This time Trav runs out for Wal-Mart trip #3. This is some type of record I'm sure. Wal-Mart does not have the lights we need. Poor Trav. Now I have to wait until he can get them from work on Monday.

So close, yet so far away. 

 Let's hope the rest of the Christmas season goes a little smoother. Happy Holidays everyone!

18 Months! No! Mine!

She's finally all mine! er.. I mean ours! 18 months and no more baby payment! She is all paid off. I no longer have to come up with little snarky notes to write in the "For:" line on the check. Now I want a new car. I've earned it.

18 months is exciting because I can finally stop sounding ridic by telling people her age in months. A year and  a half is so much more respectable, though my reprieve is only one month long. I'm at a loss for what to do with 19 months.

18 months is also apparently when the language explosion happens. She says and understands things that I've never taught her. It's amazing what she's picked up on her own. The Only Child Syndrome has started as well, much to Trav's chagrin. She's very aware of what's hers and what's not. For a while, everything was "mine." She'll point at things, grab things, and run away with things, yelling "Mine!" I'm impressed. I don't know when she's ever heard that word, since she's never around other children and does not have to compete for toys. My parents don't say it to her, and Travis maintains that he's never said that word in his life, which might be true. He is disturbed by this and tells her not to say it. I just tell her that of course it's hers. Who else would it belong to? Now instead of everything being hers, she will go around and point to things and say "Momma's" or "Dada's." I'm proud that she understands the possessive use of words, and I find value in her knowing what belongs to her and what doesn't.

After stealing these balls, they became hers 

I'm very excited about her language development, if you couldn't already tell. Something else that I've found interesting is her use of the word "and." "And" is not a word that you just sit down and teach children, but she seems to have picked it up. If she's naming things off in a series, she will say "and" before the last item. For example, we ask her what she wants to take to Grandma's every morning. She says, "Lamb, Book, and Night-Night" (her blanket). How does she know to do that? I'm mystified. Baby Genius!

What I'm not so excited about is "No." Here's a typical conversation with Trinity:
- As she's stuffing her face with food -
Me: Do you like my chicken?
T: No
Me: Well you sure ate a lot of it
T: No
Me: Would you like some more?
T: No
Me: OK, are you all done?
T: No
Me: Well let's go take a bath
T: No
Me: Do you know what no means?
T: No

Ahhhhhh!! It drives me crazy. The weird thing is that, while she can say "Yes," she chooses not to and instead says "ooooooh" all excited when you actually say something she agrees with. She's a weird kid.

I'm getting tired of typing. Here's some pictures.

Trinity loved her first trip to the ocean

Guido did not

Probably my favoritest picture ever

If this doesn't melt your heart, you're a cold, sad bastard

This is how be we both feel about potty training

Oh, something else. My dad cut her hair. I'll say it again in case that didn't sink in. My DAD gave her a HAIRCUT! WTF?!? He watched her by himself for half a day when Travis and I went to the Duck game this last Saturday. Sometime during those few hours when she wasn't asleep, he thought, "hmmm what should we do?" Well, the little hair clips must have been too complicated. Pulling the hair to one side and pushing down on the clip was just too much. The only thing that made sense to him at this moment was taking out a pair a KITCHEN SCISSORS from the knife block and CUTTING HER HAIR! I think he must have tried to be professional and wet it down beforehand, because it shrunk up and now she looks like this:

I spent all day Sunday trying to figure out what happened to her hair. I didn't know if it was new hair that was trying to grow in, or if she just slept on it weird. I didn't think my dad giving her an impromptu haircut was even an option. Finally I gave up and called to ask if he did something to her hair. His response was that he only cut a couple strands, and he didn't think I would notice. .... I have no words.

We're going to pretend this didn't happen. And then we are going to document her "first" professional haircut with the saved locks of hair and everything. This better not ruin Christmas pictures!

I am a loser

In the most literal sense of the word. I lose everything. Every day, I swear it's something new. A lot of things are never found. It's like there's some portal in my house that transports objects to another space and time. I'm not sure when this began, though I'm narrowing it down to about 15 months ago. It's still in full swing. I've never made a list of all the things I've lost, mostly because my memory is one of them and I know I could never remember everything, but here's a snippet:

1. My beloved Bluetooth - I remember the last day I used it. April 20th. We left for the coast and I was sad that I forgot to bring it. Then I got home and it was gone. I assumed I would just find it cleaning up one day, but never again has it been seen. I finally bought a replacement. Watch, I'll find it tomorrow.
2. My work badge - Actually, this is not my fault. Trinity loves to dig in my purse and especially loves my work badge. The first day of its absence, I turned my purse upside down at the entrance of the office digging for it like a fool. I'm sure the front desk security people think I'm totally nuts. I finally gave up and got a temporary badge for the day. That night, I tossed the house and found nothing. The next day, I admitted that my toddler hid it somewhere very special. The third day, I declared defeat. I assumed it had been thrown in the garbage or flushed down the toilet and it was gone forever. They told me I had 10 days before my old badge would be deactivated and then they would make me a new one. So for 10 days I had to endure the humiliation of going to the front desk and being like, yep, still lost. Well, on the 10th day I found it in the spare room underneath the futon. Security was not as excited about my find, since they had deactivated my badge and created me a new one. I think I'm now on some type of watch list.
3. My favorite headband of Trinity's - That damn sunflower headband went with everything! Gone! In realizing that one was missing, I also remembered another favorite that no longer exists. Her hair is still in that awkward stage where it's kind of patchy and uneven. She's developing a thick skunk stripe on top, and the bottom is growing long, but there's nothing on the sides. She's totally rocking a baby mullet. Here we have the last time this headband was worn, and a good illustration of the baby mullet in training.
 
4. Trinity's socks - I swear I buy a new package every month. They dwindle away at alarming speed until soon, there's nothing left.
5. My boobs - I never really had much to begin with, but now, after the abuse they took from growing and feeding a live, tiny human, they ran for the hills. I thought about buying some, but my fear of doctors and commitment has made me hesitant. They would probably not meet my expectations, and then I would spend the rest of my life wanting something different. I can do that now for free. I also want people to continue looking at my face when they talk to me.
6. My cat - MY CAT!!! Where the hell did Jinx go? I've ran through every scenario a million times and not one of them makes any sense.
7. My pride - I changed a diaper on my lap at the rodeo on the 4th of July. It should be a crime for bathrooms to not have changing stations. I also found out I'm not as mortified as you think I would/should be when my kid publicly opens up the top of my shirt, looks down, and proudly declares "boobies!" It's almost flattering (see #5). Last time we were at the pediatrician's, we had to wait forever for the Dr. to come in. During the time, the baby has to hang out wearing nothing but a diaper, so the room is kept hot as hell. Well, my luck, she takes this time to fill up her diaper nice and juicy for me. It's the worst, smelliest poop ever. Of course I change it, but there's nowhere to put the dirty diaper except for the trash in that tiny, hot room. When the Dr. finally joins us, the room is filled with the stench of hot, sick, ass. I didn't want her to think it was me, but I also didn't want to just randomly announce, "she pooped!" So it was just awkward. I could literally go on forever, but moral of the story is pride = lost.
8. My keys - They are in a permanent state of lost. A manhunt is required every time I need to go somewhere.
9. My expectations - If you just don't have any, you can only be pleasantly surprised. This is the key to a successful marriage.
10. Of all the things I've lost, I miss my mind the most. My brain is in disarray. I'm in full ADD mode.There's so much going on personally and professionally that it's hard to keep everything in order. And now that Trinity is about nine months away from turning two, people are asking when another one will be on the way. As if I'm supposed to crank one out every two years. I'm not a factory, and kids are not potato chips! It is possible to have just one. Plus I think the one I do have might be evil. Judge for yourself.

I tried and I cannot make this face. It didn't come from me!

I can't do this one either

Straight Child of Chucky 

Just so you know her face isn't permanently stuck on Evil

13 Months

What do you say when your baby is 13 months and people ask how old she is? Do you say she's a year old? Or do you say 13 months? One year and a month? I used to hate it when I asked how old toddlers were and I would get their age in months and be forced to do the math. Oh your baby is 37 months?? So.....she's 3? Now I totally get it, there is a difference between one year and 13 months, but I still remember that annoyance. Is she a year old until shes 1 1/2? Maybe I should change my answer depending on my audience. For random dudes she's one, but for other moms she's 13 months. In my confusion I usually say both.

These are the things I think about. My guess is that Travis has never once had this thought. Probably because if anyone looks at her, talks to her, or asks us about her, he puts his head down and gets out of there as quickly as possible. Then he'll turn to me and mutter something along the lines of, "don't effing look at my daughter." He doesn't like feeling that she's on display, and apparently thinks everyone who looks at her wants to touch her and kidnap her. It's something we're working on, but I agree it is a little disconcerting when random middle aged men tell us she's beautiful. The other day when I showed him a set of summer pajamas I got for Trinity, he was upset because he thought the pajama shorts were "too short."  What?! So it might show some diaper. Doesn't mean our daughter's a hussy. I sense this will be an ongoing issue...forever.

Trinity pretends like she hates the attention, but I know she secretly revels in it. She'll act all shy when people come up and start talking to her, always refusing to wave or say hi. But when people just walk right past her or stand around ignoring her, that's when she'll be like HII! and smile and wave. Thrill of the chase I guess. Can't say I blame her.

The girl is never happier than when she is doing something forbidden. She can't even stifle her giggles. I want so bad to be mad and serious when she blatantly disobeys, but it's impossible not to laugh.

She knows my biggest pet peeve is her touching my laptop, but she just can't stop herself. I usually quickly remove her from the situation, but this is when I get the best smiles. How could you be mad at that? 


When the doctor asked if I had any concerns, I told her that Trinity's defiance concerns me. She does things more purposefully and with determination when she knows she shouldn't. What makes me really crazy is when I tell her not to throw her food on the floor, and she looks me straight in the eyes, holds my stare, and in slow motion stretches out her hand full of food and lets go one finger at a time. The doctor tells me not to look at it as defiance, that Trinity is not capable of behavior and thought that complex. Something about how children test their limits and want to find them, blah blah. I'm afraid I know exactly what she's capable of. Evil far beyond her years. She knows where her limits are, and nothing brings her more joy than tiptoeing right over that line drawn in the sand. 


I had an Omg I'm a Horrible Mom! incident a few weekends ago. Trinity and I drove up to Portland to meet a friend and check out the Saturday market. We brought Lamb because Lamb is her fave and she can't go anywhere without him. Well she enjoyed throwing Lamb over the side of the stroller several times throughout the day, and he was always rescued and returned safely. At the end of our afternoon, my wonderful friend gave Trinity some presents. Two hippos joined her in the stroller with Lamb. We then walked across the street, loaded up the car and jetted on home. That night, Lamb was not in the house with us. I checked the car. No Lamb. Stroller. No Lamb. Oh my god where's Lamb?!? Lamb is gone. Nowhere. I would've bought another, but of course I got it at Costco during Easter, and it's no longer available. For a while I would try to substitute Lamb with Duck or Bunny, but she would throw it back and me and say "Lamb!" Oh the guilt! Here we will remember the good ol' days with Lamb. RIP Lamb. You are missed.

No more swinging with Lamb

It wasn't me, it was Lamb. 

Things have been going so well for us lately, with Travis starting a new job and me catching on to how to do mine, our baby growing up and being so happy and healthy, that I can't help waiting for the other shoe to drop. Life can't go this smoothly for too long. I'm trying to enjoy it, but I feel a sense of impending doom.

Playing with the picture settings on my new phone. 

She's getting humongous!

In honor of Mother's Day, I made a little photo book of Trinity's first year. Most of the pictures from her first few months are covered in other books and calendars, so this one mostly covers the last half of her first year.  I plan to give it to Trinity one day, but until then I'm giving it to my mom to hold on to. Take a peak! Kudos to Shutterfly for providing html to embed in blogs. 

Click here to view this photo book larger

Build your own high-quality photo books at Shutterfly.com.

1 Year

I think I'm in denial. It doesn't feel real that one year ago today all hell was raining down on my uterus and a baby was barreling toward the light at the end of the tunnel. Now she's stumbling around, making animal sounds, and pointing to her body parts, just like Travis after too many beers. Now I know FOR SURE that she's his.

I swear we don't practice this move at home.

Trinity had her one-year pictures, and they turned out beautifully. She survived about 18 costume changes in public and had a good attitude for several hours. A vast contrast to the last time we had her pictures taken, where she refused to smile and had diarrhea the whole time.

I would say she's a baby genius, except she has the word NO confused with TRY HARDER. I'm not sure how you teach a 1-year-old to listen. Her defiance both terrifies and amazes me.

But then she has these sweet moments when you forget that she looked you in the eye as she pushed every button on the laptop as fast she could right after you told her not to touch it. The force is strong in this one.

Like a retard, I planned her birthday party at a nice little park where we're going to barbecue and hang out. Good thing there's 5 inches of snow still left on the ground from this week's winter storm. I hope everyone bundles up. Maybe I should hand out those Little Hotties hand warmers as party favors. fml. Trinity, I blame this on you. Being four weeks early means it will be cold on your birthday. I also realized her birthday will usually be during Spring Break. At first I thought, what a fun excuse for family vacations. And then I thought, oh god, what a fun excuse to go to Cabo/Vegas/Lake Havasu, and other equally sinful places with friends. I'm not ready.

After today, I can no longer play the Last Year At This Time game, and recall where we were in the baby process. It makes me sad, but not sad enough to want another, because last year at this time I was pushing with all my might, and her head was ramming into my pelvic bone, over and over and over.

I miss my tiny little snuggly baby. Trinity won't sit still for a second and really isn't into the cuddles. She does however give amazing kisses.

One way to become popular in high school

She took her first real steps on St. Patrick's Day, and she's been taking more and more every day since. I think we can truthfully tell her that she was walking by her first birthday. 

Happy Birthday Baby Girl!! I wouldn't trade a second we've spent together for anything! Except maybe that time when you puked butternut squash into my mouth. I hope you always know how loved you are.

Birthday Blues

Ahhhh Trinity is about to turn 1! This makes me super sad. What happened to my sweet little baby? She got way too big, way too fast. And what on earth do you do for a 1-year-old's birthday party? It's not like she really has an interest in anything. She'll never remember what we do, and in fact, she might freak out a little by lots of people being loud and all up in her business. As of now she can't even walk! She's getting close though. I bet by her birthday she'll be there. She crawls at the speed of light, and gets into everything she's not supposed to. It's amazing she hasn't swallowed or choked on something horrible. It all goes into her mouth.

So inappropriate and amazing. I swear we really aren't that white trash.

She stands pretty well, and she loves to make the remote change the TV. I feel like she's a 30-year-old in a baby's body.

For now, the tentative birthday plan is to have a nice gathering at a park with a big covered area in case in rains. That way the kids can run around all nuts and play on the toys while the adults hang out. But seriously that would still suck if it rains. I'm too much of a control freak to just hope it doesn't rain. Dah! I have a feeling this is going to be an issue for the rest of her life. March is kind of a crappy time to have a birthday. Sorry kid. Maybe if you would have waited a few more weeks....No. There's no way I would have made it any longer. Her birthday is also the opening day of The Hunger Games movie, and I really want to go. Is that bad? I'm new to this. Do I make goody bags? A cake? cupcakes? It's not like she has other kid friends. Maybe we should skip the party thing altogether and we could just take her to the zoo or something (again, there's the rain issue). I give up.

Terrorist Beeb.  I see an evil streak ahead.

So, I work now. Yay! Boo! Such a bittersweet feeling. I really really like my job so far. There's a lot of freedom to make my own hours or even work from home, which will eventually allow me more time with Beeb once I'm confident enough about knowing what I'm doing. There's something very satisfying in actually doing what you set out to do with your life, even if it isn't exactly what you had in mind. For me, it never is, since what I usually have in mind are illusions of grandeur (i.e., being paid to travel the Caribbean islands and write about it, while on the beach with an umbrella drink). I figure since I overpaid a state college for a piece of paper saying I'm qualified enough to coherently construct a sentence, I should actually get paid to construct said sentence. So far, so good.

It's tax time! I thought that would be more exciting than it really was. I had expectations all these years (always a mistake) that when you had a baby you got all this money because kids are money-sucking little parasites. Maybe it would make more of a dent if I had like three or more children, but the credit was basically invisible. I kept re-entering her information, hoping it would take effect, but lo and behold, it already had. Super sad. What did make a difference was entering all the medical expenses for her birth. I know they say your children are priceless, but I added it up and mine cost me just shy of $10,000. Out of pocket. That is absolutely ridiculous, especially since I had no medical interventions! And I have insurance!! Use protection kids.

Today is Valentine's Day, so I should give a shout out to my love: 
Trinity, you taught me the meaning of true, unconditional love, and even though you are only going to cost more as time goes on, you really are a priceless addition to our lives. Love You Beeb!

Sweet V-Day sweatsuit. Still waiting for hair!

Hehe just kidding. Travis, you are my love. The other night, we were being slugs on the couch watching the Grammy's, and Chris Brown was performing. You did something I didn't expect. You turned the channel in disgust and said you didn't want to watch someone who beats women. You added that even though you sometimes just want to....*clenches fists and teeth*....strangle me, you'd never actually do anything to hurt me. For some bizarre reason, I found this to be one of the most endearing things you've ever said. I'm pretty sure you're telling the truth, because I've tested your patience and it takes a lot of effort to even draw out a harsh word. I know I don't tell you enough, but thank you so much for all you do for me and our little party of three.

P.S.: I had to write this here because I forgot to buy a card, you never check your email, and you don't have Facebook. Also, I'm going to be so pissed if you buy me a million dollar bouquet of roses that I'm going to throw away next week. What I'd really like is a housekeeper. I don't even care if she cleans in the nude on your day off.

Love ya!

Bye Bye Baby

Cue the mommy guilt! If it had a theme song, it would be playing nonstop in my head for the next 48 hours. The good news: I got a job! The bad news: I have to go back to work. For the last two months, Trinity and I have been together almost every waking moment. I can officially say without a doubt that I am her most favorite person in the world (I know, barf). And I'm leaving her. For money. Ugh it sounds so horrible! I know it's what's best for the family and all that crap. I mean, what's the purpose of making her a baby genius if I can't pay for college? But I feel like I'm abandoning her. It's hard because she's progressing so fast right now and she's so much fun. In the last week or so she has started pulling herself up to stand (and fall). She's learning new words and can say "momma" and "dada" when cued. She has the wackiest sense of humor, but I feel I understand her better than I do most adults. In short, I'm having more fun than I ever thought possible. This time has gone by much too fast.



Trinity's First Snow! 1/15/12

I'm thankful she'll be left in the competent hands of my mother, who is excited to take care of her and loves her almost as much as I do. Hopefully she doesn't die in the death trap that is my parents' house. All day she'll have to navigate their sunken living rooms and two different treacherous fireplaces surrounded by rocks and bricks. Last time I was there we realized she can fit through the spaces between the banisters on the second floor. I've got a good feeling about this.... :/

During this time with her, I did a total mom thing. I made a tutu. Trinity has her 1-year-old pictures coming up pretty soon and I thought it would be cute if she had a tutu. There are a ton of mommys online who make them and are trying to sell them for ridiculous prices. I'm the least craftiest person in the world, but I figured since you can make them without a sewing machine, I would give it a shot. I had to swallow my anxiety and get over my fear of Jo-Ann Fabrics so I could buy some tulle. I wandered around aimlessly for a while, but then realized that I wouldn't even know what tulle would look like if I was standing in front of it, so I broke down and asked. There was a wall of tulle. One shelf each of shiny, dull, and sparkly. Which one did I choose? Ummmm sparkly of course. Did I look at the price? No. Because really, how much can tulle cost? So I choose three different colors and ask for five yards of each. 15 yards. As the lady is cutting the first five yards, another employee comes over and remarks that the sparkly tulle is sooo cute...if only it weren't so expensive. Wait, what? hold on!! How much is the tulle? Oh, $6 a yard? So, 6 x 15 = .... $90... NINETY DOLLARS!!! STOP! I know it's my responsibility, but you'd think the cutting lady would ask me if I really wanted $90 worth of tulle. Because no one wants $90 worth of tulle. So I take the sparkly, diamond-encrusted tulle and put it back on the shelf and then decide I will settle for the shiny tulle instead. Well, as I'm looking through the shiny tulle, the ENTIRE shelf of sparkly tulle falls out into the aisle. One by one. Like a slow clap. As if I'm not embarrassed enough by the exchange I just had with the employees. So after looking around to see if there are any witnesses (of course there are), I start picking up the fallen tulle and restocking it on the shelf. When I'm done, I'm completely covered in glitter. When I blink, I can see it on my eyelashes. The universe knows I don't belong in fabric stores and is punishing me for even trying. It takes forever but I decide on four colors and get three yards of each. It still ends up being $20-ish dollars, but I just want to get the hell out of there. As I leave the parking lot, I realize that the prices online really aren't that ridiculous and I should have just ordered one. But no, my little girl is going to have the best damn homemade tutu you've ever seen! I even bought glitter spray so it would be sparkly. Suck it, Universe! After what seemed like years of cutting strips of tulle, putting color combinations together, tying and retying those strips on the elastic band, my tutu is finished. I somehow ended up making it way too big and poofy for a 1-year-old. The thing fits me. But she's going to wear it for these pictures, and she's going to love it!!



Poor kid. You can run but you can't hide.

 While I've been on 24-hour mommy duty, Travis has gotten a reprieve.  It's rare that she wakes up in the night, but when she's teething it becomes a common occurrence. Travis has been able to sleep blissfully through all of these midnight screamings. He's gone for long stretches of time without changing a poopy diaper. I've tried to get him back into the groove of things this week, because starting next week, it's a 50/50 partnership once more. While he's been not changing poopy diapers, she's been getting stronger and more mobile. She tries her hardest to roll off the changing table, and/or sit up while she's being changed. She can somehow barrel roll while you're hanging onto both of her ankles. It can get dangerous and messy if you're not careful. The other night I decide it's Trav's turn to change a diaper that's sure to be a doozy. Soon enough, I hear screams and shrieks of terror, and they're not coming from the baby. After the cries of help I venture in to see what has happened, and I find this:


Daddy is out of practice.

My poor baby. Apparently, Trinity grabbed the poop diaper and wiped the shit all over herself while (gasp!) not holding completely still for him to wipe. Poop was everywhere so Trav had to extract her from the changing table and still try to clean her. If you look, you can see that they're making the same face. His is one of determination, and I think hers is just pure satisfaction with herself. Cracks me up every time! Look at that head! It's now in the 95th percentile. My little lollipop.

I'm sure going to miss her.

Baby's 1st Christmas

Was ridic! We went to three Christmases, she wore two poofy, glittery, uncomfortable dresses, sat on a strange, fat man's lap for a photo opp, and now we have countless toys and nowhere to put them. I'm in the market for some sort of storage ottoman that can double as a toy box and still look respectable in my living room.

Uncomfortable Dress #1

Uncomfortable Dress #2

So terrifying. Probably the last time this happens. Plus he was not legit. Santa does not dress like Punky Brewster!

One of her faves.

I also had a pretty incredible Christmas. This blog is being brought to you by my brand new laptop! Our other one was such a piece that you couldn't use it for anything unless you had more than two hours and a never-ending supply of patience. Most of the time it incited such rage that my vocabulary was reduced to nothing but expletives for the next hour. Trinity gave Travis and me a Kinect for Christmas so we can be a little less fat and lazy. This is a perfect gift for us because we are SUPER coordinated. The dancing game doesn't even know what to do when we hit the screen; it's so taken aback by our outstanding sense of rhythm.

The day after Christmas, the beeb and I headed up to Washington again to visit some family and friends. It's rough making that trip all by yourself, although I think I managed a little bit better than the last time. I of course still had to pee about halfway through the drive, and again my precious was sleeping so peacefully in the backseat. Since everyone gave me so much shit about leaving her in the car for less than a minute last time (high horse, anyone?) I woke her ass up and drug her into the bathroom with me, where I had to hold her while I peed. Have you ever tried to hover while holding 20 extra pounds in your arms? It's not an easy task. And then I had to complete the rest with one hand. It took forever, and then she was wide awake the rest of the way. It really made so much more sense to leave her be, but whatever, I'm all for doing the right thing. We had an amazing trip, and aside from no sleep because my little manipulator learned quickly that I didn't want her to cry at night and keep the others awake, I would deem it highly successful.

A nightmare of mine occured the day before New Year's Eve. The plan was to drop Travis off at work and then spend the rest of the day at my parents'. We would leave Trinity there that night and then go off to the coast to celebrate New Year's. I packed everything she would need for a few days and made a big batch of baby food. We left around 5:30 in the morning, and at about 6 I realized that I forgot the formula. She was going to need it as soon as I got to my parents', and I had nothing. There was only one thing I could do. I had to stop at Walmart. It wouldn't have been so bad except I was in my pajamas, complete with a robe. Trinity was also in her pjs, and it was pouring down rain. I couldn't go in with my robe, so I put on my nice wool pea coat, which complimented the outfit beautifully. I woke up my poor baby and whisked her through the rain inside Walmart, where thankfully there were other people casually shopping in their pjs. Sweet. The cashier didn't even bat an eye at the trainwreck that was happening right before her. Lesson learned. I'll never forget the formula again. Luckily she can start drinking normal milk soon. I should have bought stock in Enfamil.

Did I mention she crawls now? She looks like a soldier slithering away from an explosion, but it's mobility nonetheless.



I will cut you, M'er F'er