Mine Was Free

I have my hair blondied at a spunky little salon called Pink where the foxy stylists don unique ensembles I could never wear with a straight face. Two male employees cruise around the room sweeping detached strands and shampooing egos. One of the hairdressers has an interesting collection of tattoos on various parts of her body (and these are the ones I can see). What caught my eye one day were her milky white shapely legs as they flashed in the mirror in front of me. Stacked on jet black heels, they carried her tall frame easily across the room. Much to my surprise, I noticed on the backs of her calves were two aqua blue lightening bolts, one on each leg. They seemed perfectly at home there. Her artwork led to a conversation with my stylist about the tattoos hidden behind her ears. I wasn’t about to leave the premises until I knew what they were and why they were there. Here’s what she told us…

When she was a little girl her grandmother used to nuzzle and kiss her behind the ears. She would nuzzle one side and say, “Oh, you taste as sweet as sugar!” and on the other side she would say, “Oh, you taste as sour as a pickle!” As a tribute to her grandmother, she had a pickle tattooed behind one ear and a packet of sugar behind the other. I thought that was a pretty damn good tattoo story.

I have a tattoo on the big toe of my left foot, something I would hide from my grandmother with a giant Band-Aid made for, say, a removed limb. Many moons ago, it looked like a collection of flowers. Now it just looks like a misshapen bruised or severe frostbite. I wish I had a nice little story to go with my bastard tat but the simple fact of the matter is it was free. Sometimes free isn’t such a good thing.

The Numbers Go To 11

Got home from the salt mine this evening to see that W was just waking up from a nap (translation: "Hello extended evening in babyland."). Pops was at the recording studio working on some songs so after shoveling cereal and mommy hooch into the kiddo, we put on our sweaters and scooted over there to make sure there were no strippers doing lap dances and no empty bottles of Cristal lying around but then I remembered that we don't live in LA so I drove a little slower. We arrived there and W was immediately put to work. Witness...

Here is W considering the usage of the red marker in his work.















Here are the hands of a hardworking tot.















"Did someone say mailbox money?"
















We had a good time but had to get our buns home and in to bed. We're not quite rock stars yet.

Cheatin'

I'm too dang tired to post much so my cop out includes yet more pics of the kid. Let me mention that the Alabama nanny is back and we're all dancin' a jig. Came home at lunch to find W playing the ulitmate flirt and grinning at her from both ears like a circus clown. This evening, after 2-20 minute naps all day, he settled in the La-Z-Boy with me and quietly wound down in my arms. With no muss, no fuss, he went to bed and drifted off effortlessly. This is my kind of night (except the daddy figure is in the studio recording all evening). It's library quiet around here.

Big (cute) head like his papa.














Cheap framing effect courtesy of teething ring.














If anyone wants to buy a china cabinet, I've got one for sale. You get a friendly discount if I know you.

The Good, The Bad, and The Unemployed

Just so everyone knows, my baby was wearing his onesie backwards when I got home yesterday. Today the changing pad that his tiny toosh has been splayed upon for the past week was being used as a drool pad in his crib. I’m beginning to wonder what condition the sitter’s kid is in. The upstairs was sparkling clean but my child was wearing garments in reverse and rubbing his cheeks (the ones on his face) on the butt pad. I just don’t know what to think but I do think today is her last day. This has been a little too stressful.

The good news is that baby has been sleeping 6 to 8 hour stretches at night now, which means I’ve been able to sleep 5 and 6-hour chunks. Wow! Certainly makes a difference in my demeanor in the morning. I’m having to adjust to the generous portion of dreamland touring though. I still have to wake up in the wee wee hours to feed baby and it takes everything I can muster to be alert enough to not break my neck on the stairs and not drop the kid as I settle on his floor to satiate him. Right around the corner, however, is the introduction of teeth. I know my rested nights are numbered.



He doesn't eat as much as he wears.

Go Thee Towards The Sun

Five days a week I sit at my cubicle (yes, I work in a cube…something I thought I would NEVER do but it’s the best cube ever…very square with nice lines) hovering over two computers like the keyboard player in Depeche Mode (yes, that’s right, I use TWO computers because my laptop goes home with me and collects valuable info I need in my CUBE). About four hours in to each day I realize that I have been peering dangerously close to each screen, back hunched in a “C” shape like a grandma at a quilting bee. Over time, this could prove to be bad for me and as the working days get longer, I could deteriorate rapidly. The results might look something like this by the end of next month…







On a lighter note, and I do mean lighter, the night time doesn’t seem to be approaching as quickly these days and when I head home from work I can still see the squirrels I try to squash with my truck and the forlorn college kids waiting on the buses. I don’t feel as defeated by the wintery darkness when I arrive home and yesterday stuffed my little boy wonder-what-he-thinks-of-his-Latina-sitter in the stroller and hiked the ‘hood. It was glorious. He tapped his little socked feet to a tune he serenaded me with and I pushed with vigor in an effort to shake my cubicle shaped butt. Ahhh…all is well.

Oh! One more thing. I found this for sale on Amazon.com. It's fake, you, too, can own one, and I am scared.

Pipi

Willem's current sitter (who is the best dressed baby care giver ever and always looks like she's headed out to a dance party) has had to take a few days off so I am auditioning another to fill in the gaps. She's Latina, in her early twenties and has a 4-year-old son of her own. She speaks no English which isn't really a problem because husband and I combined are fluent present tense Spanish speakers. In an effort to communicate with her more effectively, I found a great program on the internet that allows me to type dialogue in English, cut and paste it into a text box and translate it in to Espanol. Worked like a charm but of course I have to embellish the details and overemphasize the specifics myself. I told her that the baby usually naps for two years instead of two hours. When I was telling her that baby loves lots of kisses and hugs, I basically said that I love lots of kisses and hugs. It took me a minute to figure out why she took a step backwards.

It's very hard finding people to trust to help you raise your only child. It's easy to decide that the way you do things is the only way it should be done. Around 1 p.m., I came home for lunch and to pump and found baby still in his pajamas. Evidently he hadn't eaten because she had prepared formula instead of the breast milk in the fridge and he hadn't taken a nap yet. I was bummed to see the little guy stalled out in his day. The look on his face was calm confusion when he saw me. I'm sure he was wondering what the heck was going on. I scooped him up, popped the boob in his mouth and soon he was fast asleep.

One of the great perks of having this little lady in my house is that she's also a housecleaner so while baby napped for 2 hours and 40 minutes, she scrubbed and swept and wiped and straightened. That's a nice thing to come home to so now I need to decide if this little arrangement is going to work. She's coming again today and tomorrow so we'll see.

Fat Head

If you look closely, you might conclude that someone has whacked my kiddo on the side of his sweet noggin' but this is in fact the result of his large melon squashing his tiny hand during naptime. You should've seen his hand. It looked like a fly swatter.

Workin' For A Livin'

It’s been challenging finding time to update this blog. My day job has me shackled and flogged. Afterwards, I head home to my “other job” as mommy, wife, maid, cook, therapist, archaeologist, mime, private dancer, and Jeopardy contestant. All in a days work. Last night I stuffed baby into this cool rugrat carrying apparatus I just got in the mail called a HipHugger (Mrs. Jolie-Pitt has one…insert ooooo’s and aaaaah’s here) and walked to this Mediterranean restaurant in my ‘hood for dinner. Hubby and friends were there and we had a lovely time until I burst into tears because I couldn’t remember the last time I had dinner with more than one adult at a time. Baby and I split the scene early and raced home to bed. We were both out by 9:45 p.m.

This past Wednesday the event planning company I work for coordinated an event at the Four Seasons with a nightmare client from NYC who was NEVER happy. Never, ever, ever! She had changed every detail over and over since the first day we had begun working with her. Couldn’t wait to meet her in person and yeah, she’s one of those. All dang day and in to the evening she fussed and cussed and frowned and at the end of the soiree for these drunken small town history, English, P.E, and math teachers from around the state (yes, they DID conga!), she gave us all a hug and said we did a great job…and she wasn’t drunk. I’m glad she did that ‘cause I was already considering which fake palm tree at one of four “islands” I was going to beat her with. After we schelped all of the crap for the party into the cargo van and dropped it at the warehouse, we slammed a beer at a divey Latino bar called Club Oriente or otherwise known as “Gringos Pay Double.” Damn good beer though.

I almost forgot to mention that during the set up of the event, my cell phone rings and it’s my baby’s nanny breathless on the phone. I’m thinking the kid has drown in a pool of drool or pooped a mountain or something but she squeals that he just waved to a person on a bicycle 3 times! Evidently they were at the park and he waved back at someone waving at him. At the same moment I’m freaking with delight, a wave of sadness overcomes me as I realize that, as a full time working mother, I will be missing a lot of firsts in his little world. What’s a baby mama to do?

Chillin'

The weather here has been amazing so we try and get out of the house as often as possible. We took our first jaunt to the neighborhood park this past weekend and watched the bigger kids play, run, and beat up each other. W was his cool usual self acting as if the world was his oyster...and it is. He always hikes his feet up on the dashboard of his ride.



Could you not just want to scoop him up and eat him???

Everyday Is Baby Day

Here is a brief pictorial of Sunday...

This is W considering his predicament in the baby bungee. I finally figured out how to adjust it so his feet touch the floor when for weeks he's been swinging in this stupid thing and HATING IT.




This is W realizing that he still isn't in to it and wanting out now (looks more like a crazed animal in a leg trap to me!).



This is W soaking the back of the sofa with his drool. He loves that orange blanket.



This is W flashing his gummy abyss.

Baby Weekend

Little woke up at 2 a.m. yesterday morning ready to partay. It’s frustrating to be yanked from a very brief deep sleep and travel down the length of the staircase to his room while your brain crawls back from dreamland but there’s nothing sweeter than seeing your child looking up at you and squealing with delight as if you are the honored guest at the soiree. I took him upstairs with me and tried to convince him that acting like a rock star at this age was a bad idea but he was having none of it. I lay down and sat him on my chest and could make out his toothless grin gaping down at me in the darkness. The brou-ha-ha lasted about an hour with coos and raspberries and then he quietly went back to sleep in his own bed. Of course at 6 a.m. he was rearing to go again.

We went to a “sip-n-see” yesterday to meet the lovely Julia in person. Please take a moment to gaze at her sweetness…















I handed Willem to Julia’s daddy so I could hold her small frame. She was as light as an empty shoebox and almost small enough to fit in one. You forget how delicate and weightless they are as such a young age. Willem got his diaper in a wad seeing me cooing at this tiny beauty and he was very concerned when he saw me across the room out of his reach. It was the first time I had witnessed this mommy craving behavior and it made me swoon. We went outside where all of the little boys of other families were playing and I stuck Willem in his first swing ride. I think I better get the boy one stat. He loved it. I had to ask assistance in freeing him though. I couldn’t figure out how to get the yellow thing up.



















On another note, I have to admit that sometimes when I reread a series of blogs I’ve written, I realize how different my life is now and that’s when I break into the liquor cabinet with my teeth. No seriously, it’s interesting how much things change when you bring a person into the world and then you have to hang out with them…a lot…or go into debt having someone else hang with them. Don’t get me wrong, I love all that I have and yes, I know the kiddo will be stealing my car keys in the middle of the night soon enough but I do miss my happy hour Fridays with girlfriends, the jet set weekends, being the first person in line at a Last Call sale, catching a movie in a theater and SLEEPING LATE. Mostly I just miss sleeping late.

Life In A Plastic Bubble

A girlfriend called earlier today to tell me her infant niece is in the hospital with the croup. I can't imagine what I would do if W had to be put in the hospital. It's bad enough I run horrific scenerios of things happening to him through my head anyway. His father called a couple of days ago to tell me he wasn't feeling well and turns out he has the flu...on the road. Ugh! At least he's not here to share the demon bug with Little. I've decided the only way I'm going to keep baby healthy is to put him in one of these forever...












I know they work. I had gerbils as a kid.



I canceled my gym membership yesterday. I just didn't see how I was ever going to get back in there even if it is a 24 hour joint. I've got my crazy busy job, my baby, my suitcases of fatigue, and my lack of motivation to keep me preoccupied. Thankfully I'm only 3 pounds away from my prepregnancy weight but everything is out of proportion now and has the texture of my down comforter. At the moment, I'm not concerned and my libido is still on vaca so I'm gonna nosh a few more boxes of Girl Scout cookies guilt free.

Oh, I saw this bumpersticker today..."One Nation, Under Surveillance." Yep. It's pretty bad.

Yawn

Daddy’s out of town for a while (anything longer than a weekend seems like a long time) so I get to hurry through my evening in an effort to get to bed as early as possible. This usually consists of my regular routine with baby (cereal, bath, lotion drama, canoodling time, bottle, more canoodling and then to bed) and then I nuke a TV dinner, take a psycho shower (because I get scared being in the shower when it’s just me and baby), and high tail it in to bed. It’s almost 9. I can probably make it by 9:30. Geez! Who am I?

In an effort to get to bed stat, here’s a blog pictorial instead of a blog editorial…

Baby with sock monkey buddy.















Daddy forgetting about flash in mirror.















Blurry baby in foreground (but still freakin' cute!).














Baby digesting dinner (but he looks too cool for that somehow).