Rock On Sista!

So, we're vegging out once again today. I'm still trying to recover here.

I start playing some 80's tunes on my iPod for Fa to dance around to. It's quite entertaining, you should come by one day to watch. All of a sudden, she comes running up to me screaming out: "Look mommy!"

I grab her to take a peek at the newest talent she's showing off...and lo and behold, my little "headbanger" is making the "rock on! horns" that I have been trying to teach her. Her little fingers couldn't form the shape on the previous days we've attempted the task...However, she must've been practicing during "quiet time" in her crib. Because, there she was in full glory and oh! so proud!...shaking her horns and banging her head to Mr. Big...Just like I taught her...

Rock on Sista Sledge. You go girl! Bang your head like you mean it!

We Painted Our Tonie-Nails Daddy!

Fa loves her feet as much I as I love her feet. Now, her newest adventure is to paint her "tonie-nails" all kinds of funky colors. We painted hers again today. She absolutely gets ecstatic when they are done. She sits still until they are dry and she won't put shoes on until she's good and ready after a new pedi.

When Daddy comes home....watch out. She's all ready to show off her special nuggets of love with him too. If you are around Fa while her nails are painted, you better take notice. She'll be highly offended if you ignore them.

So today we did blue. Next week will either be orange or purple. Some people say I've created a monster with her and her vanity. What's so wrong with caring about the way you look? Anyway you look at it, those tonie-nails are the light of my life and I will paint them for her as long as I'm breathing.

I have homework.

My therapist thinks I need to practice being in uncomfortable confrontations. I disagree, but I'd never confront her on it.

You see, when I get mad. I clam up. If you know me and I'm not speaking, you know I'm mad. You might never find out why, we just might stop talking. If you are my husband or my father, you might eventually find out why I'm mad. But you'll really have to dig for info.

Whenever my husband and I fight it's because I stop talking to him over somthing that might have happened a week ago. Then, I fester. Then, he gets pissed and asks me why I'm mad. Then, I start to cry and it usually ends there. See, I'm okay with letting it out, once I'm ready. But I ALWAYS break down into a ball of sappy hysterics. I can't confront anyone without crying. That's my real problem. Once I muster up the courage to spill it, I weep. Not just tears, mind you. Hyperventilating hysterics. Crying that hurts your nose because its so clogged with mucous. Crying that makes it impossible to utter words. Crying that makes your eyeballs bulge for three days afterwards. Like a spaz.

I am getting better with my husband. It's the other people in my life that I can't confront. The problem? I always get caught off guard by the unexpected stupidity and I fall short for a smart retort. Then, hours later, I think. "Shit, I shoulda said..." But it's too late. I am forever thinking of good "comebacks" or "defenses" hours after the fact. I can't very well bring it up then, it's over...the stupidity has washed away like the shoreline from the ocean tide. However, I am then left to fester; to wallow in my own silence. To continue to think, "Why didn't I just frickin say...."

So, my homework is to practice. Because, after all, practice makes perfect. So loogout everyone. If I get my panties worked up enough you might be in for it, 12 hours after the initial confrontation. Better late than never. You might not even know why I'm pissed, but once I gather my thoughts, I'll let you know.

Wishful thinking, I'm sure. But at least I'm confronting the fact that I need to practice. Right?
Chalk one up for me in the practice department.

Come Out Come Out Wherever You Are!!!

I lost my panty liner.

I know. You think I'm nuts. But I really did.

I was getting dressed this morning, after my shower and with all the meds I'm on, I am a little light-headed. I put it on the bed, sticky side down. After I made the bed, I realized I didn't have it anymore. Now I can't find it. I am too lazy to unmake the bed. Maybe tonight Big Daddy will find it on his pillow.

It's clean, I haven't used it yet. I just seemed to misplace it.

You see, I wear one every day. Sounds strange, but it makes laundry a whole lot nicer. I put another one on. But I have no clue where the first one went. I'll fill you in later.

RT Supplies.

Well, it's time to get ready for the newest addition to come home.

I should've had a "puppy shower". I might have saved some money on supplies. Then again, who would've come? K & G that's it.

I think I need a whole lotta stuff for the little guy.
-A crib/crate
-Bedding
-Food/Water bowls
-Diapers, uh, wee wee pads (I still think he'll train faster than Fa)
-Chew Toys/teethers
-Play, educational, developmental toys
-Collar/ID tag (birth certificate)
-Leash
-Gating to confine him safely near, but not with Fa
-Treats
-A sweater for the cold weather (you never know what the extremes can do)

I'm a little overwhelmed, but if I could handle a newborn on top of Post Partum Depression, this should be a breeze!

See me in a week...

I'm taking a trip to PetCo tomorrow to prepare for his arrival. I am very excited. Especially since this will be my first time out of the house since I was diagnosed with my strange illness...
Oh, wait I was out to go to therapy tonight too...whew, whatta relief. Sometimes you just feel so much better when you vent your frustrations to a therapist. I should practice my venting skills on the actual people I really need to vent to. That's a topic for another day...I tend to digress...

I have never been to PetCo but I have a coupon and I plan to use it. This may be the first time I use a coupon too...This RT dog may just be exactly what Fa and I need. I hope.

As I said before, see me in a week...

Duck Love!

So, Fa has this special love affair with her duckie collection. She is borderline fanatical with these adorable little creatures. It all started when she received a rubber duckie as a gift and then it snowballed from there. We play with them and she lines them up in all sorts of categories. She has named almost all of them and remembers every duck's characteristics. Ask her, she'll name it for you.

Well, these duckies are a godsend. Since we've moved, her pediatrician has changed and she hasn't met him before. When I took her there for the first time this week for her well visit, we gave one duck the exquisite title of "Doctor Duck". We practiced what the Doctor would do... "Mommy Duck and Daddy Duck" took "Baby Duck" to the Doctor's "Livingroom" (Waiting room) and he examined her and checked her heart, lungs, nose, ears and eyes. This was a fantastic preparation to the real Doctor visit later in the day. We let the duckies tag along on the visit and we even layed them on the examining table for the Doctor to check out. When the pediatrician came into the room...to my surprise, Fa was quite happy to see him. This was the first time in two and a half years that Fa actually allowed a Doctor to touch her without her losing her mind!

He gently eased her fears by examining the first! He asked her all about them and she answered him like such a big girl. (This is the same kid that won't talk to family members until she warms up!) After the visit, my little pidgeon didn't even want to leave. She wanted to stay in the Doctors "living room" and play. I wanted to kiss that doctor straight on the lips!

Instead, I think I'll just be very greatful for these and gather more for the collection. I will store the entire house with duckies if it would help that pidgeon get used to being with other people other than the usuals.

I think I am starting to love the duckies more than Stinkfoot!

I'm Pooped!

All this potty training has got me “pooped”. Some interesting doodies are produced from the following foods:
Sweet potatoes (A real good one)
Tomatoes (if she eats too many, it's crazy)
Grapes
Raisins
Prunes (dried ones, chopped up into bite sized pieces, the baby jars or juice)
Blueberries (kinda hard to find outta season)
pears (with the skin)
apples (with the skin)
bran cereals
graham crackers
whole-grain breads and crackers (HIGH FIBER bread -- we call it doodie bread)
*peas
*broccoli
*beans(*These last three can cause gas if given too much)
plenty of water daily
When she really needs it we use the glycerine suppositories (poor thing)
....A warm bath also helps her go
...Also a lot of running around and exersize keeps her regular too. (keeps the digestive system running)

When Fa was a baby she was on a fiber laxative daily called Maltsupex. It was as expensive as a college education, but it regulated her and now the foods above work wonders.

The poor kid!

I bet this was all you ever wanted to know about soft stool….Now, if only she’d doo it on the potty!

A New Study

A study conducted by UCLA's Department of Psychiatry has revealed that the kind of face a woman finds attractive on a man can differ depending on where she is in her menstrual cycle.For example: If she is ovulating, she is attracted to men with rugged and masculine features.However, if she is menstruating, or menopausal, she tends to be more attracted to a man with scissors lodged in his temple and a bat jammed up his ass while he is on fire.Further studies are expected.


This just might be my most frickin' favorite e-mail ever received.
`TL

Pericarditis!

What the F*?

That's what I have. It's basically a viral infection turned sour in the lining of my chest.

I went to the doctor to get an antibiotic because I can't stop coughing. Before I know it, he's planning to have an ambulance drive me to the cardiologist because he didn't want me driving alone....He didn't like what he heard in my chest. He was second guessing himself because someone of my age and health usually doesn't get this. Can you say....GULP! What the f*?

After he explained everything, I was so panicked, I almost crashed the car into a pole...SO maybe that Ambulance wouldn't have been such a bad idea. After a thorough evaluation by a fantastic cardiologist..

Turns out.....

Choose the best answer:

I had an EKG and have to:
a) be on antibiotics for 7 days
b) be on steriods for 7 days
c) use an inhaler for 7 days...
d) go get another EKG in 7 days...IF I feel okay, otherwise sooner....
e) All of the above

If you chose letter E you are correct damn it.

I am supposed to stay well rested as per Doctor's orders...He told me if I'm ever gonna lay on my ass, this would be the time...HA, he obviously doesn't have a two and a half year old at home. I have never felt so alone as this moment.

Fa, of course is being such a cooperative young lady. She is behaving for me today and seems to really understand that I need her to help me out here. At least she cares.

Anyway, as you can see, I'm pissed about this and other things as well...But I think I'm gonna just say. "If you don't have anything nice to say, keep your gaping mouth shut!"

The Newest Addition to Our Family is Coming!

That's right Ladies & Gentlemen...and children of all ages....

We are getting a puppy! We decided that Fa needs a playmate and faithful companion and a little brother or sister was just not the option. (We didn't want her thunder to get stolen so soon in her short little life)...So a puppy it is.

He's a Boston Terrier and he is absolutely Cute with a capital C! We are naming him RT because that's what he looks like. He looks like an RT . Prince Stinkbutt, Sir Arthur Doodie Doyle....I love 'em all...RT is his name...cuteness is his game.

He was born on April 7th, 2006 (Aries) Ironically enough; the "Year of the Dog". According to Chinese Astrology: "The dog is the human's friend who can understand the human's spirit and obey its master, whether he is wealthy or not. The Chinese regard the dog as an auspicious animal. If a dog happens to come to a house, usually the host will be very glad to adopt it, for it symbolizes the coming of fortune."

You go RT!

I can not wait to get him home. I hope he and Fa grow up happy and healthy together...Here comes the puppy poop....

Pink Lady

Pink Burpie…Pink lady…the light of her life.
This child loves her burpie. It’s like her American Express Card…”Don’t leave home without it”.

Fa: “Mommy, can you get my pink burpie, please?”
TL: “Why does it hafta be the PINK one lady? You have 20 different burpies”.
F: “Pink Lady is my friend.”
TL: “Why is it only the pink one that makes you happy?”
F (exasperated): "Pink Lady loves me, Mommy, please get my burpie!?”

Sorry, I just would love to know what goes on in that gorgeous little brain of yours...

Good thing I have 2 "Pink Ladies". I wash one while the other is muy occupado….

It's not what it's cracked up to be, huh Fa?

We took Fa to the carnival in town last night.

She was so excited, she couldn't even walk...she jumped from place to place, like a little bunny.

She wanted to go on that big, rickety, very high slide that looks like you could really fall off of, if you're not careful...So I took her...She had a friggin' ball, not afraid of how high it was, the stairs you climb like Mount Everest, or the burlap bag you slide down your ass on (all things by the way, I expected her to be afraid of.) Is this the same kid that won't go on the merry-go-round in mall? Yup, same exact one!

Then the conversation went something like this:
"I go again Mommy!"
"OK, Let's get on line and do it again."
"NO!!!!!! I do it again!!!!!"
"Whaddya talkin' about, I'll go with you, you're still too small to go by yourself!" (anxiety mom strikes again)
Then I think she said something like this: "NOOOOOOOO!!!! Mommy, I go by myself down the slide."
But I heard: "Noooooooooo!! Mommy, I go down the flaming shoot of high hell alone. I don't need you, I never did. Get over yourself and let me be who I am..."

So we went down the slide together a few more times..."or we'll go home right now young lady!"

We also let her ride on those metal death traps, or cars, that you sit in and steer the wheel, but they only go in a circle, fast enough to get the bystanders dizzy and puking, but slow enough that if your're in it, you can't even tell it's moving.

Well, my stars, was she ever so excited to pick out her very own PURPLE car to ride in. She obviously didn't get the concept of "ride alone" until then. Because, when I strapped her into the front seat of the metallic, purple trap of doom, and walked away...her eyes read, "what the f* do you think you're doing, get back here!"

She raised her pudgy hands towards me, the alarm buzzed and the metallic mangler jerked her forward..Like whiplash, toddler style. Fa pouted and "zoomed" off into her circle of despair. Upon her return to where she started, she was full-fledged crying. It was like watching your only child be tortured by people-eating cars.. it was my very own scary movie playing out right in front of me...I can't believe I didn't jump over the "safety" gate to rescue her. But I was brave, I let her experience the torture for a few revolutions...really letting her get worked up in a fit of terror. Then, I asked the operator of death to stop the ride, "cause I wanna get off"....

She calmed down surprisingly quick and asked to go on the slide of fear one more time...

I guess it's really not all it's cracked up to be, HUH?

Good Girl or Bad Girl?

"It's the good girls who keep diaries; the bad girls never have the time."
~Tahlulla Bankhead

I am keeping an online "diary" for the first time ever...I guess I've been a bad, bad girl... *wink*

Give that girl a cracker...

Ok, so Fa is napping and I am indulging in some useless television for a change. I'm watching America's Next Top Model. That skinny chick just friggin' fainted, right on television! What the hell? I love the way no one does anything to help her. It turns out to be some sorta condition...*wink*wink*nudge*nudge*...you can't fool me, she's frickin' hungry. Come on, what if she's on the runway and frickin' drops down for the count?

What is it about these women? Why do they hafta be so friggin' skinny? Shouldn't they hafta eat to keep going, or do they do nothing all day but pout? I guess it doesn't take up too many calories to do that. And why am I sooo friggin' jealous of them anyway? I'd like to see them staying at home with a 2 and a half year old all day, dealing with tantrums and potty training. They'd eat something to keep them going then. Damnit. I better stop watching T.V.

Potty Training Sucks

I hate it. It makes me ill. I have tried everything to get Fa to go on the potty and she WILL NOT do it.

She loves her pull ups. Hates to sit on the potty.

Loves to go in a corner and poop in private. Hates to sit on the potty. (she even tells me to leave the room when it’s time to go)

Loves to be in a dry pull up. Hates to sit on the potty to keep her pull up dry.

Loves to watch the poop “plop” into the toilet from her pull up. Hates to sit on the potty to “plop” the poop in herself.

Loves to be standing up to change the pull up instead of lying on the changing table. Hates to sit on the potty.

Loves to tell everyone about her pull up. Hates to talk about sitting on the potty.

I am lost. What do I do? Is anybody out there with a potty trained daughter and some advice….I’m losing my mind here….

Am I the only one?

...who still changes her 2 year old on the changing table?
...who only likes her own child?
...who feels like her heart is running around outside of her body when she looks at her child?
...who hates mommy & me classes?
...who is having such a hard time with potty training?
...who loves her daddy so much it hurts sometimes?
...who cries when her daughter is sick?
...who is reading this blog?
...who misses her husband when he's at work?
...who hates being this pale in June?
...who misses going out drinking every weekend?
...who loves the smell of her child's feet after a long day in the sun?
...who loves to read "Goodnight Moon" 20 times in a day especially when SF recites it word for word?
...who misses going to the gym?
...who feels so alone?
...who suffered from PPD?
...who loves her some soap operas?
...who really hates potty training more than anything else in the world?
...who never thought it would be this hard?

I wish I started this sooner!

I think I'm jealous.
I am reading through so many fantastic mommy blogs lately and they all have a wonderful history of their children. I was too depressed to start a blog when FA was first born. That f'in PPD can really alter your mood. (I’ll definitely get back to that another time…stick around) I hated it then and I hate it now. I think it took away alot of the fantastic things that new mommy hood is supposed to be about. Things I'll never get back. I'll never be able to start a blog about FA as an infant and her first words or first steps. That's all gone. I am glad that the PPD is gone too but damn it to hell...I think I missed out on a whole lot in the beginning because of it. I did keep a journal for Fa to have as a basic history of her first year or so. I think that makes up for lost blogtime. Yet, I am still jealous.

Yes, she is always doing new and amazing things on a daily basis. But, I can't remember half the stuff she first did as a baby. Thankfully, I do have that journal to look back to, but I think I am still pissed.

“OK, stop whining! You’re in just as good a position now. Just start from now.”

“Thank you, that’s what I’m doing.”

“Great, now zip it.”

I’m done.

Fa has a cold. She was coughing all night long. She didn’t get her first cold until her first birthday and it was a BAAAAD one. We rushed her to the hospital because it was Christmas Eve (She was born 5 days before Christmas) and the Dr’s. office was closed. She couldn’t breathe and we were panicked, first timers. It was only a cold and she gets the same sinus infections since then. They haven’t gotten any easier. I don’t think they’re supposed to. I hate it when she gets sick. It makes me so sad.

Oh well, just another day here. If you are reading this, thank you. I hope you are enjoying it. You should also see some of the other sites around here…they are wonderful… But I am still a little jealous.

Letters From A Stroller

Dear John,
Thank you so much for not leaving me on the tired, old curb. My new home is fabulous. I hear we are moving in a few weeks too, I am very excited to be "strolling" around my newest digs!

The kid I ride around with seems nice enough. She doesn't kick me in the foot guards too hard and her crackers that fall onto my seat are pretty tasty. I miss you, K and E though. However, it is to my understanding that the new kid and E hang out a lot together so that's nice! Maybe I'll even see you again at E's party on Saturday if my new family decides to take me along. I hear the mother is going to keep me in the car for fancy mall outings and quick strolls through the neighborhood. So it's like I'm still with K, only this lady seems quite grumpy at times.

Anyway, thank you from the bottom of my carrying basket, for not disposing of me in the trash...I am much happier here.

Sincerely,

Your ex-black stroller (given up for the new, fancy, pink, high-tech one)

Yuck!

So I smell this odor. We’re not it the house for very long, 4 weeks max. We just moved in for Christ’s sake, it can’t be that I haven’t cleaned.

I notice this odor on Saturday night. Big Daddy and I are sniffing around the garage and nearby and it just lingers, all the while stankin’ harder.

Sunday night, the smell is really getting worse. I am starting to think that “someone” died in our garage. Ya know, Long Island has critters. Critters that Queens doesn’t have. We have lived on Long Island for 4 years now, but this new neighborhood is more country than these 2 Queens natives are used to. Critters can crawl up in your car and sweat to death in this heat. It’s possible, don’t laugh. That type of crap happens to me you know.

Monday morning (today). The heat is oppressive. I want to go out but the sun is scalding. I have a plan, I’ll take Fa to TJ Maxx to look for sunhats for her gorgeous head. Then we can hang out in the yard. But that smell is following us. I really think that someone has died in the Jeep. I call My Man to let him know of my newest theory on the stink. I notice flies. Shit flies. Yes. In the car. Flying all over. More than one. Five or six or twenty. You know the ones that you can’t believe can grow that fat in only a few hours. How do they do that?

I pull over. I contemplate taking the car to the car wash but I am embarrassed. What if they find someone in my engine? I’ll die. Thoughts of that scene from “Cape Fear” pop into my head. You know the one where Robert DeNiro is hiding under the Jeep…my mind can really wander if I let it, so I get back to reality. I pull into the store’s parking lot and check out the hatch back of my Jeep, praying that I don’t find a furry, decomposing body hidden in its crevices.

Bingo! A “Whole Foods” bag. We went frickin’ food shopping on Saturday morning. I notice amongst the flies, a turkey burger box, a Bell & Evans Chicken Nuggets box, Cream Cheese and a jar of BBQ sauce. I am overcome by mixed emotions; nausea, fear, joy. I want to scream but I don’t want to scare Fa or any other innocent passers by. We must’ve forgotten the frickin’ bag in the car for two days; in the radiating heat of the weekend sun. I can’t stand it. But it does answer my morbid question of what rotting flesh smells like. I never want to go there again.

Don’t hate me, but I left the offending bag in the middle of the parking lot. I couldn’t gather up enough courage to hold it long enough to drag it to the trash…I’m sorry. Please forgive me for my stupidity and ignorance. But I was acting selfish and I had to dispose of the evidence quickly and quietly. If you are wondering what that smell is in the parking lot of TJ Maxx…it was me. I did it.

Potty Prayers*

As I sit you down to pee
I pray the Lord you won’t release
Upon the tiles beside the loo
Oh, please not again on my shoes!

___________________________________

God grant me the serenity
to accept the fact that I cannot change Fa’s mind about sitting on the potty;
the courage to change her fears;
and the wisdom to know she won’t be wearing diapers to college.

___________________________________
*Dedicated to all potty training moms out there (past, present & future)

Happy Father's Day to "My Man"

SO I am married with a daughter. They are both my life! My man and I have been married for 5 years this August. I can't believe I've found someone who wants to live with me and all my quirks and who I really want to live with too. It's funny how you find "the one". Sometimes you least expect it. Like me. I didn't expect it. I wasn't even looking. But there he was.

We met in a bar and the rest, as they say, is history. Cut to five years later, we have a daughter who happens to be the best little girl in the world, and we are genuinely happy. He puts up with all of my moodiness and complaining and I put up with his pile of socks under to coffee table. I hate doing laundry and cleaning, but I do it when forced. He cooks and cleans the tub and hardly complains about my lack of domesticity. He compliments my mothering abilities, even when I feel like I've messed up and he gives me strength when I think I have none left. He doesn't let me ever give up, even when I really want to and he rubs my back when I beg hard enough. He lets me hold the remote and watch T.V. shows that are unbelievably dopey. We laugh and dance around the living room with Fa and he loves us both unconditionally. Even when we stop communicating for a while...it always gets back to "normal" and we land on the same page eventually.

We got married in a vineyard in Napa Ca. on a gorgeous day in August 2001. It was truly the very best wedding ever. We still have people talking about it today. It was a "destination wedding" with 50 of our closest family and friends following us around for a few days. We had a blast...I will always remember that week of fun and celebrating. I try to remember that week especially when I am picking his underwear up from the floor for the gazillionth time....(I hope he doesn't get mad for anything I post here...but if he does it or says it...hey, it's gettin' posted. Maybe this will keep him on his toes....tee hee.)

He is my heart and Fa and I are very lucky to have him. Happy Father's Day Loopy. We love you very much. Forever.

Mommies NEED Makeup

As Fa was sitting on the potty….”practicing” (she hasn’t pipeed yet) she was watching me apply my daily dose of makeup.

F: Mommy watchya doin’?

TL: Putting on my makeup.

F: Why?

TL: Because it’s time to get ready to go out.

F: Can I wear makeup?

TL: You don’t need makeup. You’re beautiful just the way you are.

F: You need makeup?

TL: Uh, Yeah. I don’t wanna scare the people in the street.

F: (Giggling & Singing in her loudest voice)…”Mommy putting on her makeup…because she’s scary”

TL: You don’t hafta agree lady!

Remember those days when you wished you could wear makeup, but you weren’t allowed. Now I shouldn’t be allowed to leave the house without it. How does that happen?

A little bit about us...

Hi. I'm The Laundress, at least that's what I call myself. Trust me; I have no clue what I'm doing here either. I had a beautiful daughter two and a half years ago...aka Farfallina. It's been a long, hard 2 years, mixed in with self-doubt, denial, post partum depression, grief, anxiety...the list goes on. Yeah, I was pretty f'd up when Fa was first born. But I think I'm starting to get the hang of this thing called "mommyhood". Don't get me wrong, I'm still flying by the seat of my capris on a daily basis, I just thought that gracing myself with a nice place to vent might make it easier on those really self-loathing days...Can you say "positive affirmations"...?

It’s a nice place though. I'm not much for sharing my deepest darkest secrets with even my husband, but my therapist told me that if I write my feelings down, it may help to work through them...So here goes. On my new laptop, I just decided to get typing! Now I'm sure you're wondering; "Why subject us to your mind-scramblings?" Well. I gotta put it somewhere. And everyone else is doing it.

Every mom site I visit has wonderful women sharing their innermost thoughts with the entire world about their lives, loves, children, trials and tribulations...I was intrigued. I wanted a blog to call my own. So I started one. Thinking, I'm sure as you did when you first started (if you have a blog), who’s gonna see it anyway? There are thousands of blogs out there, if you found mine. WOW. I have so many thoughts running through my head and not enough time in the day. I still don’t know how I’m gonna find time to write them all down. But, it’s a fun challenge and I think I’m up to it at this point in my life.

Fa…well, this is mostly about her. Her and her pink burpie and her stinky feet. I hope she’s not embarrassed by this one day when she’s older. She is the air that I breathe and the reason I wake up in the morning (anyone who knows me knows how much I hate mornings). I am staying home with her now. I tried going back to work 8 months after she was born but that damn PPD just wasn’t helping…It was a debacle.

My husband and I decided that we’ll make it through on one salary and she would be taken care of by moi. YAY! Joy of joys….(insert screetching halt sounds here). What a responsibility! What was I thinking? Can I do this? Who’s to say, I’m the right person for this job? I’m gonna ruin her. She deserves better than me…Where’s that burpie? Did I eat today? Did she eat today? Ok, sorry. I’m back now. I love being home with her! I know this was the right choice for me. I need to work through some issues about myself but I think we are great together and make a hell of a good mother daughter team! And damn, do I love the smell of her feet! I could sit there for hours sniffing them if she only let me. YUM.

Rain, Rain Go Away

I guess when you let your 2.5 year old splash in the puddles for the very first time in her life, you better not have a destination.

In her cutest pink, gingham rain galoshes Fa splashed like a goldfish. She was happily dancing in the puddles in the streets on the way to the Library. However, getting into the Library was a feat to be contested. I give her credit: She is a woman who gets what she wants.

We never made it to the Library.

Fa enjoyed splashing all the way home until we made it to the door...Can anyone say Temper-tantrum?

I guess this is the first of gazillions of arguments we will have as a mother-daughter team.

I better polish my boxing gloves.

I hope she always knows I will love her no matter what.

Why can't you get syrup out of hair without washing it?

Here's some words of wisdom for anyone who's listening:
Don't ever feed your 2 year old waffles before an important birthday party, unless you have time for another bath.

Do I look FAT in this?

Don't ever ask that question. You might get an answer that you don't want to hear.