A Long Nine Hours

Since Mads was about three months old, Mum has been bugging me about having her grand-baby sleep over. It almost happened once, it was my birthday, and Jeffrey and I had plans to celebrate. I chickened out at the last minute, begging Mum to come and stay at our house instead of Madelynn staying at theirs. Last night, I finally let it happen.

It's not that I don't trust Mum to take care of my baby, I have complete confidence in her parenting abilities, and I know she loves babe almost as much as Jeffrey and I do. I wasn't worried about Mady's welfare, I was just worried about Mady. I didn't want to drop her off in a strange place, leave her to sleep in unfamiliar rooms without her Mommy and Daddy there beside her. I guess I was worried that she would cry all night (or worse, not cry at all), and I just wasn't ready to put her (or myself) through that.

I dropped her off last night and cried on my way out. I called Mum as soon as I got home, and then told her to update me as much as possible, I wanted to know about every scream and squirm. Mum held up her end, calling me when Mads went to sleep, calling again when she woke up. My baby was fine.

Jeffrey and I went to the Rathskeller, and I kept running outside to check my phone, terrified that I would miss a call from Mum. I had planned to pick up baby at around nine in the morning, but even with my stomach full of liquid courage, I couldn't sleep. By 6am, I was already wide awake and dressed, pacing around the apartment trying to waste time. I held out until 7:30, and had my baby in my arms by eight.

I did have fun, it was nice to go out with Jeffrey, we don't get a lot of baby-free time together. I think the worst part was coming home to an empty apartment, the floor scattered with toys and no baby to play with them. There's nothing like nine hours apart to remind you how much you love your little one.

Unfortunately for Mum, I won't need to do this again for another nine months. I'm just not ready yet.

Step It Up and Dance

Today, Madelynn was walking down the hallway, using the wall to keep upright. When she got to the bathroom door frame, she launched herself to the other side, taking two steps to get there, and only slightly smashed herself into the other frame. She took two steps! Without holding on!! It was the most amazing thing that I have ever seen. Ever.

And, she dances to music. I've been trying to get it on video, but she apparently has performance anxiety or something, because she won't shake her butt when the little red light is blinking. I'll get it though, she can't hold out forever.

Here's some pictures totally unrelated to this post:

[Trying to get on her pony all by herself]

[Just looking silly]

[Favorite toy of the morning]

Cookies Make the Heart Grow Fonder

First thing this morning, Jeffrey pissed me off. It wasn't so much that I was actually angry, just slightly perturbed at his early morning nonsense, and I snapped at him a little more than I should have. As a peace offering, I made a batch of chocolate chip cookies to greet him with when he came home from work. Usually I don't like chocolate chip anything, but these cookies came out so good, I decided to eat three and then share the recipe.

(Yes. They are square. I put my dough globs too close together, and they all baked into each other. They're better that way. Shut up.)

1 cup butter
1/2 cup white sugar
1 cup packed brown sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
2 eggs
2 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon salt
2 cups semisweet chocolate chips

Preheat the oven to 375 degrees F (190 degrees C).
In a large bowl, cream together the butter and sugar until smooth. Beat in the vanilla and eggs one at a time. Combine the flour, baking soda and salt; stir into the sugar mixture. Finally, mix in the chocolate chips. Drop by tablespoonfuls onto ungreased cookie sheets.
Bake for 8 to 10 minutes in the preheated oven, or until edges are golden. Remove from baking sheet to cool on wire racks.

Since this is technically a blog devoted to my baby, here's a picture of her being good for a change:

It lasted for about six pictures, which based on the shutter speed of my camera, translates to about thirteen seconds.

Good Lord, I love that baby.

Little Monster

When Madelynn was a newborn, I had so many plans on how I was going to react to each stage in her life. I had done a lot of research, reading everything I could about babies and their first year. I remember a conversation I had with Jeffrey, explaining to him that I wanted to avoid using the world "no" too often, so that it would be more useful when I really needed it.

That's kind of funny now. "No" seems to be the only word in my vocabulary these days, and I just don't know how to stop. My baby blob turned into a silent hurricane practically over night, weaving a path of destruction through this apartment with me trailing two steps behind, picking up the pieces and begging "no, no, no". She's a monster.

From pulling out the outlet covers to unplugging the cable to the TV, she's constantly into something that she shouldn't be. I drag her away, trying to redirect her attention to something more baby-friendly to play with, but I guess she doesn't like her toys as much, because she's always escaping to return to the "untouchables". After I pull her away the third or fourth time, she launches into a temper tantrum, kicking and biting, arching her back and trying to escape, screeching this awful, whiny scream through the whole ordeal. I can't turn my back long enough to even walk into the kitchen, by the time I turn to face the living room, she's gone, in the bathroom yanking out toilet paper, in the cat's room with spilled cat food around her feet, or in her bedroom, climbing her pony. I've been gating off the hallway in an attempt to thwart these solo baby missions, but the second I have the gate in place, Mads is right there, rattling the gate and screaming, trying to climb to the top.

When I wake up in the morning, I scatter her larger toys around the room, trying to block off the things that she shouldn't be touching. She always finds a way, crawling around the ottaman, over the Little Superstar, under the end table, and finally victory, behind the couch to turn off the power strip, and yank out some outlet covers. I spend the majority of my day sitting on the living room floor, just watching. I watch her get past all my little obstacle courses, I watch her figure out how to open the dishwasher (that was slightly scary), and I watch her use the bumbo as a step ladder to climb on the couch. It would be amazing to watch if I weren't so frustrated, she's a genius, she can absolutely do anything.

Nursing is like a full contact sport, she kicks me in the stomach, tries to stand on my legs, rolls this way and that, all with one nipple firmly clenched between her teeth. When I try to hold her down, keep her still for just five minutes, a new fit begins and she's pinching my neck and kicking my arms. She beats the crap out of me, I have the bruises to prove it.

Here's Mads stuck under a chair:

That was the fifth time that I had rescued her from this exact position. I pull her out, she crawls back under and screams. I pull her out, she crawls back under and screams.

Here's Mads with a bag of cookies:

Those cookies used to be in a box. The box was sitting on the high shelf of the desk, near the picture frame, but pushed back far enough that she couldn't reach. She used the bottom shelf of the desk as a step stool to get the box, destroyed the top of the box to get the bag, and destroyed part of the bag to get her cookies. She had one in her mouth, two in her hand, and one on the floor when she was found.

She ate a piece of cat food today. She had two in her mouth and I could only fish out one before she swallowed the other. It must have tasted awful.

I can't yell at her. She's just a baby, and as much as I'd like to scream sometimes, I usually just turn around and laugh. I don't want her to see me smile, but I can't help it, she's the cutest little monster.

The Twilight Zone

On Friday, Mads and I spent the day at my parent's house. Mum had just finished reading the Twilight series, so she sent me home with all four books, warning me that they weren't very good. Now, teen romance novels really aren't my style, you would never find me in those sections at Barnes & Noble. But by 6:30 on Saturday morning, I finally put myself to bed with only two chapters left in the first book. (I can't remember the last time I stayed up all night reading, it was probably two summers ago when I read The Stand for the 3rd (fourth?) time, Jeffrey looking at me like I was insane when he woke up at noon to find me still on the couch, almost finished with the book that I had started the night before. I just can't seem to put a book down, whether it's good or not, I have to finish it before sleep can ruin the flow.) I read the second book in the series during naps and after Mads went to bed, and finished it at about midnight Saturday night.

So how were they? I actually liked the first one until the end, but it definitely was not worth the hype that surrounds the series. Towards the end of the book, I was starting to get incredibly irritated with the main character, Bella. She was whiny and over-dramatic, the perfect character for a teenage audience, the worst character for anyone over the age of twenty. Three chapters into the second book, I wanted to smack the bitch, beat her head in for acting like such a little twat. By the end of that book, I was disgusted with the story (vampires weren't enough? now you need to date a werewolf, too? wait, there are werewolves? come on), and even more annoyed by Bella and her crappy attitude.

I'll finish the series, not because I like the books, but because I started and now I have to finish, and I'll give my official review when I'm done with them. I don't think the Twilight enthusiasts are going to appreciate my opinion.

Two Minutes in My Life

Aimee: Hey, do you know where that outlet cover went?

Jeffrey: No. Do you?

A: If I knew, I wouldn't have to ask you.

J: Shut up.

A: No, you shut up.

J: No, you.

A: No, you, twat waffle.

J: Queef bubble.

A: Schmegma slurper.

J: Hey, there it is.

Almost in unison: Child proof my ass!

Don't ask me how. I really don't know.

She Bit Me

No shocker there, she bites me every day. Today though, she bit me twice on the arm while I was trying to cut her nails. She bit me hard, too.

Teeth number nine and ten are already peeking through her gums. This kid is like a piranha.

Smells Like...

I ran out of my most favorite perfume a couple weeks ago. Since then, I've been trying to gently inform Jeffrey that I would like a new bottle (at least twice daily). I've kept it subtle, like when going to lunch, "I just feel incomplete leaving this house without spritzing with my favorite scent" or while doing makeup and hair in the bathroom, "I really wish I had some perfume to cover up that hairspray smell". Jeffrey doesn't do well with subtlety, I'm pretty sure he thinks I'm making small talk. I've avoided out-right asking for new perfume, it's really fucking expensive slightly pricey, so it's just a conversation that I don't want to have. To get my message out there, I took a cue from one of my favorite blogs, Passive Agressive Notes, and put up a few tasteful signs around the apartment.

Above his "gaming station":

Above his whole fucking plethora modest collection of cologne:

On the headboard of our bed:

And finally, above the toilet in his bathroom:

I hope he gets the message.

MadyLegs

Those are MadyLegs, made with love by her Mommy.

Target has three packs of women's fashion knee socks for six bucks. Cut the foot off, fold the raw end down with a strip of No Sew in between the layers, iron on low heat on both sides (no steam), and bam! you have (insert.your.child's.name.here)Legs.

And you also have three pairs of ankle socks that match your kid's leg warmers. What more could you ask for six whole dollars? That's like, a dollar each.

This Mommy loves things for a dollar.

The Many Faces of Mady O.

Anti-Anti-Bac

When Madelynn was born, I kept her in this antibacterial bubble, where 99.9 percent of germs just could not enter. Before anyone could touch her, their arms and hands had to be properly cleaned and disinfected, toys that touched the floor needed to be taken home and sterilized before further play, and highchairs, shopping carts, and changing tables were just plain off-limits. That all changed rather quickly, by three months I was wiping down highchairs with sani-wipes, but she was finally allowed to touch them. At 8 months, I've lost almost all of my germaphobe ways, tossing out the anti-bac and replacing it with a travel container of baby wipes. I decided that germs were the one thing that I wasn't going to protect this baby from. There are still things that will always be off limits, she will never be permitted to chew on a menu at a restaurant (ew.ew.gag.ew.), or lick a floor that isn't ours. The fate of dropped toys, floors to crawl on, and shopping carts will be decided on a case-by-case basis, but ultimately I plan to step back and let her slobber all over whatever she wants.

I played in the dirt a lot as a kid. I rode in shopping carts, I sat in highchairs, I licked things that were less than sanitary. I played under tables, splashed in dingy creek water, and swooshed things around in the toilet. I ate beetles and dog biscuits for goodness sake. My Mum was one of those people that believed germs were your friend, if you let them in, you'll be a healthier person. Colds and the flu were treated with chicken soup and Gatorade, never Advil or cough syrup. To this day I won't take any "modern medicine" (except for that amazing epidural), no antibiotics or over the counter anything (not even Tylenol), I take a natural approach to getting well and staying that way. I imagine my immune system is pretty rockin', as I very rarely get sick. This is what I want for Madelynn. I want her to be strong enough to fight off the common cold or worse, and I don't think you get that by having a too clean kid. It still freaks me out when she shoves a just-shed chunk of cat hair in her mouth, or licks the bathroom floor just to taste it (because that stuff is just plain gross), but now that she's a little older, I'm no longer dreading her first sick sneeze.

I think Mads will be happier and healthier living outside of her little bubble, and living in the real world where the occasional scratchy throat happens, and a runny nose isn't the worst thing on earth.

I have officially jumped off the antibacterial bandwagon. Pass me that Crappy Mommy badge, I'll totally wear that shit with pride.

Still Snowing

I have cabin fever. It's been snowing for days, and Mads and I have been cooped up in this apartment driving each other crazy. Not that we could go anywhere anyways, Jeffrey has the car. I can't wait to go to work tomorrow. Who says that?

To beat the blues, I set up a cheerio trail around the house, and followed Mads all over the place watching her eat them. Then we had pony time, I pushed her three or four laps around the whole apartment, and when I took her off, she threw her very first temper tantrum. I plopped her back on the pony, and the screaming stopped. Who does she think she is? We played peek-a-boo, a baby version of hide and seek, a couple rounds of leg bounces, and finally a sing-along with that stupid puppy.

Then she said Mum-mum. What's that you say? Mum-mum-boo-boo-da. It's about freaking time! For a while there, I thought the only sounds this kid would make would be gaaa, gooo, and da. Now that she has strung a couple sounds together, she's making them all the time. It's like someone flipped the babble switch. She has always "talked", but this is babbling. It's five minutes of non stop mum-boo-boo-ba-da-da-da-boo-mum-mum-boo-ba-ba-ba-moooooo. Ahhh-boo-ma-mum-ma-boo-da-da-da-da-da-mum-ba-ba-ba-moo-mum-da-ba-booo.

3000 seconds straight.

That's 3000 Uhh-boo-mum-mum-buh's.

You get the point.

If I clap too loud, it turns off the rambles, so I have to just sit there and watch quietly. I'm afraid if I startle her, she'll think babbling isn't fun. Babbling is fun.

Cute Picture of the Day

Super Cook

I got this from the blog If it isn't one thing, it's another!.

Super Cook is this awesome website where you type in all the food that you have in your house, and it finds a bunch of recipes for things that you can make with it. This thing is a lifesaver! You know when you need to go grocery shopping, but you don't for one reason or another, and all you have in your kitchen is random condiments and pastas? Maybe that's just me. Usually when this happens, I'll just order delivery, but when you're minus one car, and out 300 bucks for a tow (yes, it was still 300 bucks), spending thirty dollars on dinner for two just isn't feasible. So I typed in all the things in my kitchen (macaroni, milk, eggs, parmesan cheese, etc.) and it gave me 274 recipes that could be made!

Last night, I made Spaghetti Loaf, which sounds pretty unappetizing when you just go off the name, but it's actually a lot like lasagna, but made in a loaf pan. And it was easy! Bake time like 20 minutes!

So anyways, if you're down to the bare minimum in your pantry, you really don't have to feed your family Pop-Tarts for dinner. There are other options.

Hit the Snooze

Mads woke me up this morning by standing up in bed and using my head for balance, babbling. I turned her around so she was facing Daddy, then rolled back over. She stood holding Jeffrey's head, babble babble, and then he turned her back to me. Repeat for about 15 minutes. Back and forth, back and forth, until one of us, today it was Jeffrey, finally gets out of bed. Usually we can hand her a toy, and she'll play in between us for another five minutes, then it's back up holding onto our backs.

She's like an alarm clock, with a snooze button.

Friday Night Fun

It's freaking cold outside.

Casual Friday

Win!

I'm stuck on the meme boat! Jen, from Life According to Jennifer, tagged me. The rules for The Honest Scrap Award-The Honorees are:

A: List ten honest things about yourself -and make it interesting, even if you have to dig deep.

B: Pass the award on to 7 bloggers that you feel embody the spirit of the Honest Scrap.

Alright, I'm not that interesting, but here goes:

1. When I was two years old, I cut my left thumb off. The whole way. I can't remember it, but Mum said I didn't even cry because I had chopped through all the nerves. They stuck a needle through the thumb and into the bone in my hand, sewed it back on, put on a bright pink cast, and prayed that it would grow normal. It's slightly smaller than my right thumb, and it doesn't bend the way it's supposed to, but on the bright side, I still have a left thumb.

2. My sister is eight years, two months, and six days older than me. When she moved out of our family's house, my Mum found a bunch of letters in the attic that she had written to God. She told God that she hated me and wished I had never been born. She kicked my ass daily. When I turned 18, we finally became friends, but we still fight over who is Mum's favorite (it's totally me).

3. A week after Jeffrey and I met, we went to Florida together. I barely knew him, he barely knew me, but we packed up our crap and left the state. It was supposed to be a month long vacation, but we ended up staying for five months. Jeffrey didn't want to leave, but I was ready to come home. One Saturday night, I told him I was going home, and early Sunday morning, I drove the 20 hours home all by myself. I figured if he followed me, then it was meant to be. One week later, I picked him up at the airport, and we've been living in Pennsylvania together ever since.

4. I'm a fake vegetarian. I don't eat hooved animals or seafood, but I love turkey and chicken.

5. I have a birth mark in an unmentionable area, but you can only see it when I'm properly groomed. ;)

6. I'm a closet smoker (not actually in the closet, only outside). I smoke 1-2 cigarettes a day, usually one during morning nap, and one after babe goes to bed. On Mondays, when I work all day, I may even smoke three. I'm super anal about keeping this secret from Mads, so I wear a specific coat when I smoke, brush my teeth, wash my hands, and use mouthwash before I go anywhere near her. I'm terrified that she'll find out when she's older.

7. I've had the same best friend since I was five years old. We go through phases where we'll spend every waking moment together for a few months, and then I won't see her or speak to her for a few months. Every time we see each other again, we just pick up where we left off.

8. When I was 18-20, I worked at a resort as a banquet captain. For the employee Christmas party, I was scheduled to work. Employee appreciation my ass! I served the dinner, cleared the plates, then downed about a whole bottle of chardonnay. I was so drunk that I fell off the loading dock, broke my nose, split my lip, and spent the rest of the night in the emergency room. All while on the clock. I didn't get fired, they were afraid I would sue them, and workman's comp payed for my stitches.

9. I'm allergic to tape. Yes, tape. If you put a piece of tape on my arm, the skin will turn bright red and swell up.

10. I'm obsessed with blogging. If I didn't have to be Mommy all day, I would be blogging all day. But I guess if I didn't have to be Mommy, I wouldn't have anything to write about.

I'm tagging:

Jillian, The Grand Adventures of Marley (and Mommy and Daddy)

Emily, And Baby Makes Three

Steph, Mommy and Wife. What a Wonderful Life!

The Beach Life

Megan, I Buy Cheap Toilet Paper.

Morgan, Adventures in Diapering

Jen, Plenty of Not Much

AlphaMeme

This is the Alphabet Super Game. You must write a list of Ten Favorite Things starting with the letter assigned to you by the previous blogger. Jen, over at Life According to Jennifer, gave me the letter L. So here's my ten things, in no particular order.

1. Lip Kisses: from my baby. There's nothing in the world like a big, wet, open mouthed lip kiss from an eight month old.

2. Legs: Babylegs that is. (L is kind of a hard letter, ya know?) If I had 365 pairs of Babylegs, my kid would wear them every single day.

3. Letter Cookies: Earth's Best Organic Letter of the Day Cookies in oatmeal cinnamon. These baby cookies are so freaking good, I eat just as many as Mads does, if not more.

4. Lambrusco Riunite: My favorite cheap wine of the week. Because it's awesome? No, because there's a jug of it in my fridge, and it was free.

5. Liz Cruz: Played by Roma Maffia on Nip/Tuck. I've liked her since season two, and this season she is just freaking funny.

6. Lasagna: Made with veggies and cheese. No beef please.

7. Lip Gunk: Currently Burt's Bees, three years ago it was Softlips.

8. Lion's Head: Cheap beer made locally. The beer tastes OK, but the caps are what hold my heart. They have those picture puzzle things, I can't think of what they're called, but it's a bunch of pictures in a row that makes a common phrase when you say them aloud. Anagram? Algorithm? Something.

9. Lash Blast: Covergirl Mascara, makes my eyelashes look incredibly long and full. I've even had people ask me if my lashes were real or fake. I'm not sure if that's a compliment, or if I should be slightly offended, but I've never worn fake eyelashes. I can't imagine putting glue that close to my eyeball. Ew.

10. Lite Brite: That toy was the shit. I played with it for years, and towards the end I was down to only a handful of those little pegs. I'm sure half went to the vacuum cleaner, and the other half were thrown away by my asshole sister.

If you want to play, ask for a letter and I'll give you a good one. I promise I won't make you do X, Z, or Q.

The Four Degree Blues

I'm sick of winter. I'm sick of ice, snow, wind, and freezing my ass off. I'm sick of scraping my car, the lack of sunshine, and the inability to wear ballet flats. I think I need a vitamin D supplement, or one of those nifty lamps that imitate sunlight. Eh.

Jeffrey's crumpled car is sitting at a garage, waiting for us to rescue it from it's twenty-dollar-a-day storage spot. When asked how much it would cost to get the car out, the dude gave Jeffrey a three hundred dollar estimate. 300 bucks for a tow? I called the company today, pretending to be some random chick with a broken down Oldsmobile (southern accent, just for fun), and got a quote of sixty dollars anywhere in town. 60 does not equal 300. What am I missing here? Do they charge a 240 dollar fee if the car's been in an accident? Seems a little steep to me. Dude-man better be prepared for this chick when I go in there tomorrow, I'll make him cry if I have to. Or I'll cry. Whatever.

Ages ago, I wrote a blog about going to work two days a week, and I was worried that I wouldn't be around to see Mads destroy her first roll of toilet paper. I didn't need to worry. While I was cleaning the bathroom today, I plopped baby on the floor with a couple blocks, and went to work on the shower. When I turned back to check on her (she was being awfully quiet), I saw my baby sitting under the toilet paper dispenser, surrounded by at least twelve feet of paper. I was too busy trying to swoop out the ginormous wad of toilet paper that was stuck to the roof of her mouth that I didn't even get a picture. I'll remember the camera next time.

Although I have no pictures of Babe wearing TP, I do have plenty of pictures taken today, and I'm starting to see a pattern with them all.

I can't get this kid to look at the camera. I try, I really do. I call her name, I blow raspberries, I whistle. All I get is the side of her face or her back.

If anyone knows how to keep a baby from standing in the bathtub, I would appreciate your secret. I keep pushing her down, but she just pops back up. What am I supposed to do, squeeze the soap out with my teeth?

Scariest Day of 2009

Mads and I woke up at about eight today. I changed her diaper, brushed my teeth, brushed her teeth, and changed her clothes. Through this whole routine, my phone was beeping to tell me that I had a message. It was too early to deal with messages. I finally shuffled out to my phone at around 8:20. I had 32 missed calls. Thirty-two. Nothing screams "EMERGENCY!!" like 32 missed calls. I called Jeffrey with an ill heart. He drove the Honda into a telephone pole. The pole suffered major damage, as did the Honda (most likely totaled), but Jeffrey walked away with just a small scratch next to his right eye.

Thank you, God. I don't even want to imagine doing this without my love.

P.S. Anyone have a cheap Honda for sale? :)

Where'd You Go?

Target has Babylegs for $8! You can't even buy fake Babylegs for eight dollars.

So when I got home this afternoon, I was going through all my baby loot when I realized that said baby was missing. I went into panic mode, hunting behind the couch, under the desk, and behind the end table. Nothing. I had one delusional moment where I could remember leaving her in the car, or at Target, but her car seat was sitting right in the middle of the living room. I wouldn't bring the car seat without the baby, right?

Ten excruciating seconds later, I heard her sneeze.

That crazy chick was walking down the hallway. Maybe walking isn't an accurate word for what she was doing, it was more of a side step/shimmy kind of thing, using the wall for balance.

I have mixed feelings about all this mobility. I'm so proud of her and her new found independence, but at the same time, it scares the shit out of me. I'm just glad I didn't really forget her at Target.

150

That's how much I would have spent on the four sweaters, two hoodies, two dresses, three shirts, two onesies, two pairs of pants, one pair of jeans, and one skirt that I just bought Mads, if I hadn't gone to Target for their huge baby sale. What did I pay instead? Twenty-five bucks. !!!25!!! The sweaters were originally 13-15 dollars each, and I don't think I paid more than $2.50 for any one thing.

I had to work all day, but I knew Target was doing this sale, so by nine tonight I was freaking out because I didn't think I was going to make it in time. I made it to Target with 25 minutes to shop, and I utilized every single one of those minutes. I was like a mad-woman, throwing crap in my little basket without even looking at prices, and barely glancing at sizes. When I went to pay, I found out that the sale would actually be running for a week (a week from today? a week from three days ago? I don't know), so I'm going back tomorrow morning to make sure I didn't miss anything. My Target actually had more boy clothes than girl clothes (hint hint to my local blog stalker). I didn't go anywhere else in the store, but when I walked past the lingerie dept. with all my baby stuff, I saw a whole crap load of those pajama sets for women for $3.98 plus 30% off.

So anyways, all you bargain hunters need to haul ass to Target, 75% off original price plus 30% off the sale price. Woot woot!

Henrietta

After my last couple posts, I'm sure that I've convinced some people that I'm slightly unstable. Well I'm about to take it a step further.

When I was little, I used to name everything. I had a freckle named Barnabas, a couple chicken pox named after the seven dwarfs, and every random boo-boo was named either Oscar or Chops. My Mum used to help me with the names, and we'd also make up stories to go with their lives. It's not that I was some creative genius or anything, I was just lonely. There weren't any other kids to play with, so I spent my days hanging out with Billy Ray and Reba (the best imaginary friends a girl could have), and naming everything I saw. Although I don't need imaginary friends anymore (even though the imaginary ones are a lot nicer sometimes), I still name everything. No, I don't mean that I still name my scabs... I name Madelynn's instead.

So without further ado, allow me to introduce Henrietta.



Isn't she pretty? Henrietta is the seventh character of our story to move into Mouth City. Now Henrietta used to live behind door 3T, in the apartment building that is my baby's head. She spent her days working as an enamelist, and spent her nights cuddled up to her true love, Antonio. Henrietta and Antonio were sick of living in that little apartment building, so they decided that it was time to relocate to the best city in the head, Mouth City. Henrietta came first, leaving Antonio behind to tie up the loose ends of their past life. Antonio plans to join her shortly, but what they don't know is that Paula and Abdul (sibling teenagers always making trouble) will inevitably come between their relationship.



Henrietta and Antonio will become estranged, unable to even look at each other. A few years later, Henrietta and Antonio will leave Mouth City separately, but they will mysteriously find themselves living merely three doors down from one another in Tooth Fairy Square. Antonio will find Henrietta in the Fairy Cafe, sipping on fluoride tea and looking as beautiful as ever. Their love will be rekindled, and shortly after, they will become the proud parents of two beautiful children (names to be decided). These children will one day return to the city that ripped their parents apart, and find themselves flanking Abdul and Paula (fresh from their stint in Toofer Rehab, stronger, smarter, and with a better attitude) becoming their lifelong friends.

These four friends will one day fight side-by-side in the war against Tooth Decay. Go Teeth!

Bye-Bye, Baby

Now when you see this video, you're gonna be all like:

"How dare this bitch call a cutesy stuffed puppy annoying? She's ten times more obnoxious than a Laugh and Learn Puppy. Dumb twat."

You know what? I don't have to listen to myself, so shut the eff up. Here's Mady and me waving bye-bye.

I assure you that this is not some coincidental arm flap, she is most definitely waving. She waved bye-bye to my parents today also, so it's no longer a "just for the mirror" thing. Go Mady!!

Die Puppy

Baby toys are annoying. I'm sure there are toys in your house that drive you insane, and just the sight of them makes you slightly angry (it can't just be me, right?). Maybe Legos screw up your vacuum, or Barbie shoes hurt your feet every time you step on them. Or maybe you're like me and Head/shoulders/knees/toes (sung by every freaking baby toy ever made) makes you want to hang yourself. Admit it, you hate your kid's toys. It's OK, I do too.

Some toys I can handle. Stuffed animals, soft blocks, and teething rings? Love. Little superstar thingy, bi-lingual activity table, and the spinning/singing Winnie the Pooh thinga-jig? Fine in moderation. But this thing?

That effing thing makes me want to stab myself in the ears with a fork. The first time I heard that Puppy's voice, I thought "Aww, how cute is that?"... and it is cute. The voice of that puppy is absolutely stinking adorable... for one day. The problem is that it's too cute. Every time he says "Got my toes!" in that adorable voice, I cringe. Seriously, I want to rip his toes off every time he says it. The on/off switch is so touchy that every time Mads puts her hands on the puppy it says, "It's learning time! Let's sing and play games! Bye-bye!" Bye-bye? What do you mean Bye-Bye, she hasn't even effing played with you yet!! It's those same three lines, over.and.over.again. When I finally rip the puppy out of her perfect little hands, I hide the on/off leg so that she can play with the rest of it, but by that time she's totally over the puppy's bullshit and on to something else. And the songs!

It's fun to hear you laugh and sing,
Learning as you play,
When I see your smiling face,
This is what I say,
I love you, I love you,
Morning, noon, and night,
I love you, I love you,
You make the world so briiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight.

Total gag! I don't know what it is about that song, but I seriously feel my heart beat faster and my neck tense when I hear it.

I hate this puppy. I hate it, I hate it, I hate it. I want to punt it off the balcony.

I won't, but I really want to. If Mads wouldn't get all jumpy excited every time she saw the thing, I would totally drop it off in a dumpster somewhere, or at least give it away.

Ugh.

Picture Catch-up

These are just a bunch of pictures that I couldn't post when I was power-cord-less, so I'm trying to catch up.

---

A baby hissy fit:

---

Cool new toy:

---

Lots of baby feet:

---

Silly faces:

---

Fun toy and a hairbrush: