sing it loud so I can hear you.

Our wedding song was Better Together by Jack Johnson.

The Wood Song by the Indigo Girls ties my Blanket Girls...my best friends and me together.

I was listening to Bob Marley's Acoustical Medley the moment when my mother slipped away.

These are the songs I hear in my head everyday of my life. They are the songs I always come back to; the ones I am always humming.

When I am not humming "Give me back that fillet of fish, give me that fish..." Seriously, someone help me!

My point.

From the moment I knew Riley was growing inside me I began to sing to her. Everyday of my pregnancy and every day of the last 15 months. They are varied fun tunes, theme songs or the aforementioned commercial.

Give me back that smelly dipe, give me that dipe....

The first night in the hospital I held her sleeping body close to me. I found the words to a song I have always known, and knew in that moment that it would always be hers. That night, and every night after I have sung her The Beatles, I Will.

I nursed her and rocked her. I would sing it and then hum it before finally settling her peacefully in her crib.

While I am no longer nursing her I am still singing to her...its our bedtime ritual.

But I wonder for how long. She grows restless for more books or for her bed. It is crystal clear to me in these moments how quickly she is growing and changing. How fast she makes up her own mind.

Sometimes I worry that this song will fall away one day to be one I only sing to myself.

But them I remember the times she has heard it on the radio and has raced towards me. "Mamamamamamama..." Shes climbed into my lap and snuggled for a minute before racing back away.

I know little moments like that will be a fleeting gift as she grows. But she will always be mine, I will always remember and I promise I will always sing for her and to her.

I will.

then don't say anything at all.

So I haven't exactly been the best blogger of late. I checked the stamp on my last post. December 4th, gawd. Talk about being a slacker. I've been reading but I can't tell you the last time I commented.

Well ok, I can. It was like 5 minutes ago on The New Girls new news.

The thing is though I try to subscribe to the "If you can't say anything nice" theory. And lately I just haven't been up to nice.

Whats dragged me from my hole? This...

Where is Clink? Where is Clink?
Hope you're ok! Hope you're ok!
We miss your witty self We miss your witty self
Come back please Come back please
Sung to the tune of "where is thumbkin"

That was a comment from Swiggy. Too much right. So I figured I owed maybe a teeny little update to my reader(s).

Well...I'm not up for it. It's just too much right now. In the thick of it you see.

So. Something I have spent a good amount of time thinking about these last few months.

Fucking Sesame Street.

Right...so, when Riley turned one I realized that crap! I had never let this kid watch TV with the exception of Football like 24-7 for 16 weeks ; so maybe I owed her a little puppet time. I flipped on the big Sesame for the first time since I watched it as a kid.

Seriously.

This is what I have learned and I am none too happy.

Snuffalufagus is no longer invisible. WTF?

Elmo is the MC leaving poor Big Bird to sit on a door step and shake a cup for spare change just so he and Snuffy can get by one more day.

Oh and on that Elmo thing...totally baby crack. Riley is obsessed, this is her guy. So much so that when an older episode comes on when Big Bird was still top puppet, she points and whines at the TV until I make Elmo magically appear with the power of my modern day DVR.

Oscar the Grouch has a girlfriend. ummm....

Maria and Gordon NEVER age....which makes me wonder...are they perhaps puppets? Because they look just as fresh as they did in "Follow That Bird" which is the last time I remember seeing them.

The little letter and number of the day skits are EXACTLY the same as 20 years ago.

Bert and Ernie totally don't get any play and I wonder if it's because of all the rumors.

Elmo has a chick in his life called "Abby" and she is a fairy and can fly and talk to her Mommy through her wand. They are reaching here right? Or is it just me?

Regardless, Riley loves this stuff so I suffer through. I buy the merchandise and make her Elmo dance for her at bed time because it makes her laugh and laugh.

And that's what its all about right? Making them happy? Even if it means we have to buy into imaginary friends no longer being imaginary and furry little monsters who refer to themselves in the third person all the time! So maddening.

But in all fairness to said furry red monster. When Elmo goes to "ask a baby" in his little bit it makes me smile. And for a moment I see what Riley sees. The cutest friendliest furriest cat there ever was.

Because that's what she calls him. Loudly...and a lot....CAAAATTTTTTTT!!!!!!

Now...Promise. A real update and real comments and real involvement back in my blogger life...sooner then later.

twelve. II

I remember the doctor telling us that "we have a girl". I know the exact moment I heard you cry. Your first smile, your first laughter and your first word. I remember the day you first crawled away from me and when you first stood. I'm sure your many firsts to come will dim some of these memories for me. You will grow and time will move faster every year.

But for all the days and years to come the one thing I will never ever forget is the first time you looked in my eyes.

My sweet girl, happy first birthday.

twelve.

I wasn't going to write about today because I didn't want to burst into tears. Especially right now. Make-up and hair just so. I'm going to a fancy mall this afternoon and I want to look like a person, not an exhausted mommy.

But from the moment I woke up this morning I just couldn't get it out of my head. 12 years. My mother has been gone for 12 years.

For some reason I just cant wrap my head around that. It feels like I lost her yesterday.

It will always feel like yesterday.

But 12 years? It's not as profound as 10, not as emotional as 3.

No where near as devastating as 30 will be. When I will officially be the oldest she ever was.

12 seems to suggest a kind of acceptance of the years passing. A finality that only time can provide. It reminds me that no matter how much I would like to do otherwise, I measure my life in terms of years without her.

I still dream of her. Its not like it used to be though, the moment of pure elation upon seeing her; "OH! You're not dead!". Still smelling her in those foggy seconds between sleep and awake. The crushing blow of realization upon waking.

Now I feel almost a sense of trepidation upon meeting her. She's not supposed to be there, in the kitchen by the sink. This is my fathers house now. I feel as if I'm meeting an old friend and I don't know where to begin. My mind always snapping back to my father; wondering where he is.

Long before her death my mother told me that if ever one of them were to die, I should pray it was her. That for security, for safety, my brother and I needed my father.

I'm not sure if she really believed that to be true or the trauma of loosing her own father at 15 was so deeply set that she could not imagine that option for her children.

When my father was diagnosed with cancer, erm 12 years ago, I could see it in her eyes. If it was up to her, she would be the one to leave us.

Even then I saw her in my minds eye. Making a deal with God. Her bargain still rings in my head. Little more then a month from his diagnosis; she was gone.

I remember being little and finding my mother crying in her room over her father. It was ingrained in me so young to fear the loss of a parent. I don't wish that for my daughter, but how am I to avoid it? When with each passing year I take her hand to help light the candle in my mothers memory...and the next day light her birthday candle in celebration.

For now I know this, I miss my mother every day of my life.

But never more then today when I lost her.

And never more then tomorrow when I became her.

updates.

After 11 days of hell waiting; I showered and flossed. Heaven.

I'm feeling much much better. The swelling continues to decrease...I look less and less like Franken-Mommy every day and more like me; which is such a good.

Eating has improved to foods I don't actually have to chew but can just swallow. Being that my jeans fit so well I am not concerned about this.


**************************************

It seems that there is actually a perfectly good reason to lick a baby.

As long as it's your baby....

...and she is arm deep in a bowl of mashed pears that got away from you.

**************************************

I had an awful dream last night.

Phoebe from Friends (not Lisa Kudrow...Phoebe) had Riley overnight while I was in the hospital for Lumpy.

My baby was not only not a baby when she was returned to me but she was Haley Joel Osment.




...And that is me off the pain killers.

meet the family.

When my baby gets overwhelmed she shuts down. She doesn't cry, or squirm. She turns her head away and buries it in my shoulder. She scratches the back of my arm with one hand and digs into my chest with the other.

To anyone who doesn't know her it looks like a loving snuggle. It's not.

It is her saying, "Mommy, I am afraid. I can not even begin to process what is going on here."

So when I know better than you family members people tell me not to worry "She'll cry" if she is upset. "I'll take her, she looks so calm." I want to clock them one.

Because they are scaring her. They are in her face and she does not have the fight part of 'fight or flight'.

This is a baby that will sit in her poo, hungry, tired with her leg pinched in her car seat and not complain.

Much.

It takes a lot. When I say a lot I mean A LOT to really get to her.

So what these overbearing Aunts people are missing as they cackle in her face and pat her head and grab her hands and generally pester her to meet their own needs...

...is my baby. My sweet, funny, friendly, screechy little girl. Who has SO much personality.

If you just leave her the heck alone.

Seven.

So it seems you are more like me then I feared.

While you come with a sunny disposition that not even the cloudiest day can sully...you also come with the unexplainable, inexplicable. BAD MOOD.

You get bored. So easily. A toy which held total fascination 15 minutes ago is thrown wildly from your body never to be seen again. Should I even dare to try giving it back you yell at me.

You yell at your mother, you mean it and you are only seven months old.

You and I could sleep forever. Curled into each other in a soft bed. Sleep has never been a problem. In that I am blessed.

You are social, we love to go on adventures together and neither of us ever.shuts.up.

When you are quiet, when you snuggle and when you are patient; you are your father. In those tiny moments when how something works not how it looks draws your attention; when you smile at me because you love me more then anything in this world.

Then you are 100% your father.

And I am more in love then I ever thought I could be.

Oh and look at that chubb...don't you just want to eat her up? Those thighs!

dirty nickels.

Well I should have had no worries on the baby weening front. She has been refusing the bottle more and more. Especially from me.

Instead she tears at my shirt and bangs her head against my chest in frustration. She wants to nurse.

I need her to nurse.

Today was my last day of treatment. While there is conflicting evidence as to what the drugs would do to her...most doctors say nothing...lactation consultant says...nothing...I just can not reconcile myself with it.

Because if The Juice makes me feel like this....

What is it going to do to my baby?

go veg

You would think any child of mine would love her veggies.

Well I would think that...

...but...you see...look here...

Not so much loving her peas.

The thing is, her father makes the identical expression...

So maybe it's my cooking?

Six

When I was 10 weeks pregnant with you I bought your first stuffed animal. A large floppy dog that your father and I knew you would love; be you boy or girl.

We named him Mister Paws and he sat in your nursery waiting so many long months for you. I would go in there late in the afternoon and sit with him in the rocking chair. I sang and read you books as you moved inside me.

I looked at my future with you then...that each month on the day you were born I would capture a moment with you both.
I never could have imagined the joy I would find with each session. I never could have wished for more willing subjects.

The demands of daily life with you allow me to only look at the present. The days and months have flown by in a whirlwind that despite every warning I was given; I could never have been prepared for.

I am so grateful that we have our set date. We have your white onezie, your room, your smile and Mister Paws...counting to six has never been so much fun.

five

I am not laid back. ummm not even close.
You are so remarkably laid back that sometimes I question if you could possibly be mine.

Have baby will travel. This is our motto. You are happy to go anywhere and do just about anything. You shine when you meet new faces and always, always...take it all in.

But don't listen to me. I am your Mother. It is my job to consider you perfect beyond all explanation. Listen to our family, our friends, or the random people out in the world. You ride on me or in your stroller with an awesome sense of wonder. Forever smiling, forever eager to see what is around the next corner.

I fill with pride to know that, by some miracle I don't yet understand, you are mine.

You look just like my father.

I have to assure the other Moms at play group that you do in fact cry; you have your moments.

Just so they won't resent us.

But you know it, I know it...your Daddy knows it.

I'm lying to them.


My little love. You are such a good baby.


Oh...one more thing.

You actually make me laugh out loud. Which is amazing, since you know...you're a baby.

who knew saving the environment would be so sticky

First let me say that I hold AT&T personally responsible for the last 36 hours of internetless hell I have been living in. They have directly caused me to finish a book, clean my kitchen, finish every stitch of laundry in the house, go to bed at a decent hour and watch TV. DSL my arse.

That said.

Let me tell you a little something about cloth diapering. Oh sure it is all honorable to go about disposing of my child's waste in an environmentally friendly way. Poop does not bother me, no way no how. I laugh in the face of laundry...(at least while my internet is down)...I have front a loading washer and dryer afterall.

Note: If you have the means...go buy them right now. I'll wait.

I have been using cloth on and off for about a month but today was my first full cloth day.

...and let me tell you...I under estimated the amount of stuff baby poop can actually get on.

Severely under estimated.

• One baby
• Three pairs of pants
• Two onezies (that last one was missed by the smallest margin)
• Two pairs of socks
• One Robeez (if there is only one of them is it a Robee?)
• The changing pad
• The changing pad cover
• The other changing pad cover
• All three of the emergency changing pad cover protectors
• The changing table
• The wipe box
• The basket the wipe box is in
• The anti-bacterial hand gel
• A Pampers Swaddler-the non-waste of which was ironically behind this whole lets go cloth thing
• Yep, you guessed it...the wall
• Oh yeah...lets not forget. ME

I am in no way giving up. If anything this has strengthened my resolve to do the right thing by the earth and my baby's bottom...besides there are 3 disposable diapers left in the house so it's not like I have left myself a choice here.

Now...if you'll excuse me. I have about 2 hours worth of laundry and cleaning to do....and when I am done with that 355 feeds (again a big shout out to AT&T) to sort through.

...going to be a long night.

hmmm 36 hours and that the best I could do huh...

Four

You are 4 months old.

You laugh and laugh and laugh.

You're entire body lights up when you see us.

You love to stand "like a person" and screech with excitement at your new skill.

You smile with flailing arms and kicking legs.

You have opinions and do not hesitate to let us know what you think, good and bad.

You love "your kitty"; Blossom the oldest of the cats who never seems to leave your side.

You are patient and so very friendly.

You are a joyful and happy baby...
...and we are blessed.

It's Not Easy Being Green.

I have returned from the Green Mountain State and from a very colorful and enjoyable Easter with BF and family.

The highlights....

*********************************************

Spouse whining to me on the phone Easter morning when I told him he had to go hunt out his Easter basket.

"...but I'm Jewwwiiiisshh...."

Ha! Every year he says this and every year I hide his basket full of goodies that are so well, good, that he will be forced to retrieve them.

*********************************************

While nursing the baby I over hear this exchange in BF's kitchen...

The Terrorist: "What Daddy doing up there?"

BF: "He is changing out the light bulbs"

The Terrorist: "But why?"

BF: "He is changing them to energy efficient bulbs"

The Terrorist: "But WHY?"

BF: "So we can be green"

The Terrorist: (wailing) "BUT I DON"T WANNA BE GWEEEENNNNN!"

******************************************

And finally for your viewing pleasure:

Drama Queen playing with Baby Riley (as she will forever be known, named so by The Terrorist and even I am calling her that now).

Yes it is your run of the mill cute video of my baby and my favorite kid...but just hang on until the end folks, turn up your sound and listen. Despite her claims otherwise that is indeed BF singing in the back ground...




...I can just imagine the booty shaking that was going on. Do you think I should cut her a break? It was her Birthday weekend after all.

The Evolution of Laughter

Yeah...that's our big ass TV. Spouse bought that before we were married. I had no say. Oh and the picture on the TV. Well that is Brother and Spouse after the Superbowl. Usually I wouldn't have a picture on the TV itself, but this was a triumphant moment you see; so it holds a place of honor.

Babe and I are off to Vermont to spend Easter with BF and family. Nothing like egg hunting in the snow I always say.

Happy Easter!!!

Shanghai Red

On the final day of my recent imprisonment in NJ I had a visit from my mothers cousin.

My 'Aunt Mole'.

A little background. Aunt Mole can be over the top inappropriate; pretty much all of the time.

During my mothers memorial service she dramatically clutched me to her chest. "Ooohhhh, you poor thing" she bellowed, "You are ALL ALONE NOW!!!" (insert bawling on my shoulder here). I remember looking around the room at the gazillion people who were staring at me with great sympathy for this display.

Alone indeed.

While planning my bridal shower BF rang Aunt Mole to inform her that all of the bride's (me) Aunties were participating in planning the shower; you know, since I was ALL ALONE!. BF was met with silence. And then this....
"Maybe you should call the brides father and see if he will pay for it."

Click

She hung up on BF (can you imagine?) who hadn't offered anything more then for Aunt Mole to be involved in the planning not the paying.

So, when said Aunt invited herself over to see my off spring I accepted with little choice and great trepidation. What kind of story would this visit yield?

I could never have imagined.

Aunt Mole came in with excitement to see my girl. She came with all but frankincense and myrrh; but I truly believe those things were only absent due to her being Jewish.

Her greedy paws shot outward for my baby.

"Wash your hands please" I asked.

"Humpft...I always wash my hands!" huffed Aunt Mole as she stomped towards the sink with disappointment.

I bit my tongue.

She returned and I promptly handed over the baby.

Now a little background (I know she is all of 3 months how much could there be?) on Miss Riley.

She is a super cool baby. She is chill, she is friendly, not much ruffles her feathers. She likes the action, she likes most people and she is very much the little social butterfly.

She did her duty for Aunt Mole. She sat quietly in her lap and tolerated the petting and pawing. She squawked when Aunt Mole went to cradle her. I chimed in, "She really likes to sit up." Aunt Mole huffed and sat Riley back up right.

At this point my daughter turns her head and looks at me for help.

And that is when it happened.

Aunt Mole kissed my girl. Right in the middle of her forehead. With dark. red. lipstick.

I bit my tongue, oh how I bit it! Years of loosing clothing and makeup jobs to this generation of woman flashed before my eyes. The woman in my family who have to slather dark. red. lipstick. on prior to any interaction with any other human being on the planet. Years of these woman kissing me, hugging me, bawling on me. With dark. red. lipstick.

I should have known, I should have foreseen it!

This is what happened next, so fast that I couldn't react.

Aunt Mole notices what she has done. She then smears the lipstick into a dark red stain across my child's head. She huffs.

She takes the burp cloth and rubs it over the babies forehead. Rubs rubs rubs.
She rubs harder.

She licks the cloth and rubs again.

At this point I see myself mentally sprinting across the room screaming "NOOOOOO!!!" but in reality I am still yet to move. I am in shock. I am aware that my mouth is hanging open and that my hand is up in the "Stop" position and that this woman is about to maul my child but still, I am frozen.

She rubs and rubs.

She huffs.

Aunt Mole licks her thumb and rubs again. Again, and again and again.

The now lighter red stain is creeping into Riley's hairline. The baby is looking at me for help. Her brow is furrowed and her boo-boo lip is starting to appear. The whine is grumbling low in her throat. She is going to cry.

Cry my child CRY!

No one, not even me who knows what Aunt Mole is capable of could have fathomed what would happen next.

Aunt Mole looked at the baby. The baby looked back with tears and mistrust in her eyes.

Aunt Mole leaned forward.

And licked her.

She licked her.

She licked my baby.

The woman I made wash her hands before touching her. Licked her.

On the head.

Twice.

At this point I bolted forward. I whisked my now screaming child from her arms mumbling something about how "I could just get a wet wipe you know" and I raced away.

Riley looked up into my eyes. Through her tear and lipstick stained face she wailed accusingly.

I hear Aunt Mole mumble from behind me (because she followed me) something about how a wet wipe "might work", because you know, tongues are so much more affective.

After gently trying to remove the stain I silently resolved that I would need an actual a bath, actual soap and possibly an exfoliating substance to remove it.

The was baby still crying; I excused myself to nurse and calm her. Aunt Mole toddled after me and plopped down on the bed beside me.

I bit my tongue (which was almost bleeding at this point I assure you). I was over whelmed. Someone had just licked my child.

I hadn't even licked her. Forget that this scenario begs why you would lick a baby in the first place but who licks another persons baby???

Apparently, Aunt Mole.

The visit ended without further event (mainly because I soundly refused despite the under the breath huffing, to give the baby back to her).

Aunt Mole went to leave a short time later. Standing at the door she leaned in and gave me a hug good bye. No Kiss. Excellent.

She complimented me again on the wonders of my daughter. I thanked her sincerely.

Then, almost before I knew it, she kissed her.

Right on the cheek.

Oh Gawd!

Bath time could not come fast enough.

3 Months

It is hard to imagine my daughter is 3 months old.

It is harder to imagine what life was like without her. To me, she has always been here.

She thumps her mattress in the morning when she wakes up.

Thump Thump Thump.

Louder and louder until I come for her...and when she sees me she smiles.

Big and bright.

As if to say..."Mommy, isn't it a wonderful day?"

And I say to her... "Good morning my thumper." I scoop her up, kiss her cheek and whisper in her ear..."Who loves you more then Mommy?"

The answer everyday is the same...

Nobody.

Chewed By Rodents!

That was the official diagnosis.

Rodents. Chewed.

5 days and what they found was a wire...Chewed. By. Rodents.

Now I have two theories on this one. You tell me which is more likely....

The squirrels which are currently inhabiting my father's attic targeted me as the individual that called animal control on their fuzzy little behinnys. Having realized that it was in fact me, took action against me by deducing which car was mine and crawled up into my engine block to chew the wire which just so happens to control the main computer. Having done this they then returned to their comfy warm attic condos to await my destruction. They took great joy in watching me struggle with my car and laughed merrily as I was stranded. They took further aggressions out on me by constantly chewing and digging only over the baby's room; causing chaos while nursing and during nap time.

(please imagine all of this to the theme song from Mission Impossible)

Or....

This notoriously criminal dealership found a way to legally charge me for the computer that was covered under warranty.

Geee.....let me think....

After a large and loud argument with the service manager followed by forced payment (we may have to remortgage the house for this one); I am home.

HOME!

Thank you all for your support, suggestions and kind words during my forced imprisonment.

What made it worth it?

My Dad bonded with the baby....awesome.

Said baby, upon seeing her father for the first time yesterday morning. SQUEALED.

With her whole body.

From the top of her head to the tips of her toes...she trembled and SQQQUUUEEEEEEAAALLLLEEDD!!

Now...if you'll excuse me. I have a scathing letter to write to Chrysler.

What's it worth to ya?

Please remind me the next time I bet Spouse on something...not to do it.

Well at least, not to wager who has to clean the upstairs toilets....

...and not to put my money on this guy.

You got it right; Spouse and I bet household chores on American Idol.

Last night I was on the loosing end. (heh, get it?)

But this morning I was a winner! Because I woke up to this....

(shameless excuse to show off little monkey)

What do you bet on?

What's it worth to ya?

The baby is...

I spend an awful amount of time examining and making fun of the stress factors of new motherhood.

So for a twist of events...lets examine and make fun of some pretty good things.

I am back in my VS undies folks. That's right! And no matter how broke we are (ahem, Superbowl) I am buying mama some brand new spankies!

I am back to my pre-pregnancy weight. Granted, everything is in a different place but who cares? WAHOO!

Crazy statistic..I packed on 40 lbs while the bun was in the oven...ummm but that was ALL gained in the last 12 weeks...(this is what happens when you are sick for 28 weeks and then wake up hungry one day...very very very hungry).

However, it has taken just under 10 weeks to ship it off. All this while doing nothing but breast feeding. Imagine what will happen when I actually do crazy stuff like eat right and exercise.

The baby is a road warrior. A warrior I say! While putting her in the car seat induces absolute defiance on every level, the actual road tripping is a breeze.

Up and down the east coast this kid puts on a show for all she meets. Yesterday in fact she had a very in depth conversation with the crinkly cricket hanging in the back seat. I can not imagine what they were discussing but the cricket for one was taking it very seriously.

Ready for this one? I can sleep on my belly!

On.My.Belly.

This means so much to me that I even punctuated the entire sentence (which I never do)...I will even do it again with greater enthusiasm so you really get it.

On!My!Belly!

Spouse and I actually had a moment last night where we didn't hate each other. Our neighbors were here for dinner (check us out being all adult like) the baby was sleeping and we were talking to other people but no matter!

There was no crankiness or aggravated tones to our voices. We were both (dare I say it?) happy at the same time, in the same room. For the same reason.

...and finally...Spouse is upstairs right now giving his daughter a bottle and putting her down for a nap...and I'm doing this!

Rock on!

(Oh and for those of you interested in that dandy graphic up top you can get it here. Just be sure to get your wallet out first so you don't have to get up when you are all like "ooohhhh" and "aaaahhhhh" and "I have to have that!")