So, I’ll preface this post by saying I am pretty ritualistic about handling certain baby situations. I have ‘my’ way of doing things—this way has evolved from experience.

e.g.: Poopy diapers

I always set up the diaper and pull out three wipes– I get in a position where I can contain/control the situation to avoid things like Bunny rolling over, putting her hands in the poo, things of that nature. DH has more of a fly-by-the-seat-of-his-pants type of style where he just dives in to the shit without staging his equipment. This usually results in chaos and a panic-stricken yell “Will you come help me, please? Here—take this…” and something gross is handed to me.

Tonight was no exception. He hollered and I came running. We were in POO-CON 3 and it was not looking good. I’m not usually one to describe excrement, but to get the full impact of the situation you must know that we were dealing with very sticky bunny-like turds and to compound the grossness, there was corn involved. I will leave it there. I’ve already said too much.

As usual, I was on disposal duty so I made a beeline for the commode and DH cleaned up our girl. I get back to what I was doing in the kitchen and they go back to watching the new Indiana Jones movie (which may possibly have been the cause of the monster BM, as sadly, it was pure shit) all was right in the universe again…

Until it wasn’t.

I hear DH, “What are you playing with? Is that?? Oh my God! She has shit all over her!” And she did. My poor baby had sticky bunny shit all over her hands, face, in her ear…it was SO gross but all I could do was laugh and say something about Braveheart.

I am a bad mom.**hangs head**

DH grabs her hands and I start doing the best I can with wet-wipes – not the least bit effective. The sad thing is, she is so damn mad that we are taking away her new toys. She was yelling and trying to grab at the poo I was taking away from her. Finally, we stripped her down and he put her in the tub. And there I was, left to clean up the remnants of poo on the carpet…all the while I am thinking how the fuck did this happen? I can see a renegade nugget getting off the reservation, but she must have had a handful of it! Why won’t guys just SLOW DOWN and do things like a normal person (read: why the eff won’t he do it my way???)? I hope he learned his lesson from this sufficiently traumatizing event. Who knows?

I’ll tell you what I do know—my girl does a mean William Wallace.

how you have things all worked out in your head on just how things will be with you LO….then they become little people with their own opinions and blow your plans all away to crap!

I didn’t make a lot of predictions, but I do distinctly remember DH and I saying that we’d never be the kind of parents whose world revolved only around the kid and whose house had toys all over it.

Ummmmm, yeah. That is US.

I never thought I would get my kid anything with characters on it b/c I always thought it looked tacky or cheap.

Ummmmm, yeah, Elmo and Dora are now a permanent part of my decor.

Since before Bunny was born, I have been planning to get her any Anywhere Chair from Pottery Barn. I had it all picked out in my head.  So tonight we were in EvilMart and she sees this Dora sofa-fold-out-sleeper-thing and her face lights up and she’s pointing…I got her out of the cart and let her sit on it and she is just beaming– smile from ear to ear. I knew my dreams of the perfect little PB chair just went right down the drain.

How could I begrudge her this little sofa of happiness? Sure is was tacky and made of polyester, but it makes her happy. Kids don’t care about embroidery and natural fabrics– she wants to sit on Dora and Boots. Besides, I don’t want to be THAT MOM. You know, the mom who imposes her will and hang-ups on her kids.

This is a valuable lesson and the sooner I learn it, the better: It’s not about what I like! It’s about what she likes– especially when it is a gift for her! I know I would walk across hot coals to make her smile, so this cheesy little couch is a small price to pay, right?

Tonight I was shopping at WalMart with Bunny in the Ergo. It was around dinner time so I knew she had a limited shelf life, not to mention it was really hot today and her little body next to mine was WARM.  Sooooo, she’s been doing so well with signing lately and I am really trying to reinforce her signs with the proper action (whatever she is asking me for). She started signing for milk. Milk, milk, milk…she was adamant about it. I felt so bad b/c I forgot her sippy cup and I knew she was getting hungry and worse yet, was probably thirsty.  I did what I had to do for my girl– I popped a boob in her mouth right there in the coffee aisle. I was pretty slick about it and I happened to be wearing a button down shirt and it worked perfectly. She got a few sips of bunnymilk and she was good to go.

I have to admit, when it was over, I really felt good. I looked into her big blue eyes and I knew that she knew I had her back– no matter what.  Even in the middle of WalMart.

Yeah, I’m talking to you, you sneaky bastard. Way to blindside me. I just freaking love having a cough, a stuffy nose and sweating from the heat at the same time.  Everyone knows they call it a cold because it’s only supposed to happen when it’s COLD outside. A summer cold? It’s an oxymoron and it’s just plain bullshit.

Summer cold, you are a douche.

Bunny is a year old now.  I didn’t talk about it much here, but it has happened and I couldn’t do anything to stop it. I am not in denial about the time passing by, I just do better when I don’t dwell on it, KWIM?  I will admit she is so much more fun now, so much more fun than the little potato I brought home from the hospital.  She was this tiny little squishy person, so vulnerable and needy.  For weeks all I could do was stare at her in disbelief that she was mine, that I was finally a mother.  I seemed to cry every day because I could not contain the joy that filled my heart.

At almost 35 and having been married for 10 years, I was at a point in my life where I wasn’t sure I would ever have kids…God, what I would have missed out on.  Every cliché you hear is true—They’ll change your life, you’ll never be the same, you won’t know what you did with your time before you had kids…true, true. Every word of it is true.  We were so ready for her to be here.  I know it was ‘our time’ to be parents.

I am not a very religious person, but not a day goes by that I don’t thank God for allowing me this privilege.  I don’t know what I did to deserve you, Bunny, but I am so glad you are here.  Because of you, I am a better person.  I hope I can be the mother that you deserve. I hope I never let you down.  You have changed me forever, my sweet girl, and I am so honored to be your mom.

Then and now:

It just hit me—I am the mom.  I am the one that gets to do the things no one else wants to do.  Remember all the shit your mom had to clean up?  Yeah, that’s me now. Dog shit, boogers, barf…you name it.  Remember that shit you would walk by and pretend you didn’t see? Yeah, that’s my husband. “What? I didn’t see it.”And I believe him—god bless that fucker, it’s like living with an idiot savant.  He can get through med school but he doesn’t know where the forks are and he certainly never knows when he spills his coffee…every morning…on the floor…drip frickin drop.  The coffee drips aren’t the problem today.  No, today I discovered something extra sucky. An entire bottle of creamer spilled down the back of my refrigerator and is now a sticky pool of pestilence underneath my vegetable drawer.  Just once I would like to be the person that didn’t see it—just keep walking.  But no.  I’m in the Mom National Guard and when the shit hits the fan, I get called to duty.
Gahh. This blows.

On occasion, I like to get a buzz. Please don’t judge me, I’m just being honest here. I love to feel floaty and euphoric—I don’t think that makes me a bad person and I am certainly not the only one who feels this way. I think the fascination with altered states begins when we are babies and only gets more serious when we switch from spinning around in a circle to oh, say…vodka.

My kid is obsessed with altering her world. She loves it when we spin around in the office chair. (Yeah, remember the thing you could NEVER do as a kid? Why the hell not? The chair was made for spinning for fcuksake! Well, being a grown up has only a few perks and IMO this is one of them. I bought my own office chair and I spin in it whenever the hell I want to, so SUCK IT, Uncle Norm.) Bunny also flings herself backwards every chance she gets because she likes to be upside down. Yeah, thanks Daddy. Maybe “Who is the Most Upside-Downest Baby?” wasn’t the best idea for a game. She has no concept that the laws of physics actually apply to her, so there she goes again arching back—you’d better be holding her with two hands or she will get a crash course in g = GM / (R + h) ² .

So now she has started to do these little baby headstands and it might actually be the cutest thing on the planet—except she does it a LOT. Like maybe a little too much. Think about it– these are the little baby equivalent to shots of tequila and she’s doing at least ten a day! I think she is addicted to headstands and may need an intervention.

Maybe I should call Dr. Phil.