*gasp* For ME??

Thank you, Jen!

List 7 things that you love and then pass the award on to 7 people...tagging them and letting them know they won! You can copy the picture of the award and put it on your sideboard letting the whole wide world know you are Kreativ!

Seven things I love:

1. Uh... Madelynn. Duh. :)
2. Jeffrey. I love that we never fight, and if we do get in a little tiff, it's over within the hour.
3. People magazine. I only buy one if I'm going to a laundromat (which is never), or I read them in the Doctor's office. I can't make myself actually pay for them, but I do love them.
4. Guitar Hero. I don't play nearly as much as I used to (this is a good thing), but I can still kick anyone's ass on expert. Na-na-boo-boo.
5. T-Shirts for $1!! I found the cutest v-neck long sleeve T-Shirts in all different colors for one flippin' dollar today. I've shown them to Jeffrey like, six times because I'm so darn happy (he really doesn't care).
6. Oxy-Clean. That stuff can remove poo from anything.
7. Creme filled donuts. I haven't had one for literally years, but since I lost about six pounds recently, I decided to buy six... all for myself.

I am passing this award on to:

1. Jillian
2. Steph
3. Emily
4. Michelle
5. Skyehaven
6. Holly Jo
7. Megan

Buying Love and Other Things

I've been bitching and moaning about my impending death for the past few days, and not once have I acknowledged the fact that my beautiful daughter is suffering right along with me. No, she doesn't have the death-flu (thank.you.God.), but she does have a horrible case of Mommy-ignored-me-for-three-days-straight-syndrome. I didn't really ignore her, she was still clothed and diapers were changed, there were still bananas for breakfast and boob whenever she wanted it, but there was very little playing, and more than a few annoyed glances thrown her way. Hey, I admit it, something had to give while I was puking with a two-month-old in my arm, unfortunately for Mads, it was her. I'm usually a really hands-on kind of Mommy, we play with her toys together, do chores together, and nap together most every day. These past few though, hands-off has been the general rule, and Mads has definitely noticed. While I was camped out on the couch, slumped over the arm-rest holding a bottle in Tiven's mouth, Mads would bring a toy over to me and smile. A few times, I attempted to play just a little, shake up the toy and hand it back to her, kiss-kiss it and say "ew, cooties", throw it across the room to see if she'd fetch (she does, lol). But as the hours stacked up against me, I couldn't even fake it anymore. I was only good for one thing... sleeping. We did a lot of that together.

To make up for my absence, I took Mads to Walmart tonight to buy her a new toy. Not just any toy would do, this had to be a super-freaking-fabulous toy, a toy to make up for her Mommy-loss. We roamed the toy aisle for like, ever, and we finally settled on this busy ball popper thing. On the way out, I grabbed a bottle of bubbles for $1, and a medium sized rubber ball for $1.50.

I should just take that stupid ball-popper back. She LOVES bubbles. Careful to keep them out of her eyes, I blew a few right past her face, and her mouth dropped open in awe. The first time she caught one, she giggled like a total idiot and threw in a gimme hand to tell me she wanted more. Why didn't I think of these things before? As for the ball, my kid is a flippin' genius. I rolled the ball to her, and the crazy kid straight-up rolled it back to me! She's just now learned to throw things on purpose, over-hand and with horrible aim, but I didn't think ball rolling counted as the same skill.

So much has happened in the past few days. She's walking so much better, so well in fact that I hardly notice when she follows me to the kitchen (without holding on to anything). I don't even count steps anymore, there's just too many to keep track. The wobbly-topply is being replaced with an almost graceful semi-run. She seems older every time I look at her. I'm scared to put her to bed or leave the house without her, afraid that the next time I see her she'll be asking for my car keys or peeing in the potty.

From now on, I hope I don't get sick until she's done growing. Things just happen too fast in baby-time. Fingers totally crossed.

Norovirus

I didn't make it to bed at 6pm last night. I made dinner for Mads and Jeffrey, picked up the living room a little, and crawled under the covers by seven. At 10:47pm, I was awoken by a wretched, yet familiar sound echoing from the bathroom.

Jeffrey's sick.

Gripping The Alleghenies
Friday, February 6, 2009 – updated: 11:52 pm EST February 6, 2009
CENTRE COUNTY, Pa. -- It has a grip on the Alleghenies.
It's called norovirus and it’s an intestinal infection that causes two to three days of a low-grade fever, nausea, vomiting and diarrhea.
Norovirus typically circulates during the wintertime and it is very contagious.
When it appears, you'll often see a lot of cases associated with it.
It's a virus acquired through the mouth, so like many other illnesses, washing your hands is the best way to protect yourself.
"There's certainly more cases this year I don't remember seeing more than a handful of cases last year of this so it happens like flu that some years are going to be worse than others and this is a bad year for norovirus,” said Dr. Evan Bell with Centre Medical & Surgical Associates.
Norovirus is not life-threatening, however, dehydration from the virus can lead to more serious illnesses.
Copyright 2009 by WJACTV.com. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed.

Ya Know That Thing?

You know the feeling that washes over you sometimes while your baby is sleeping (or eating, playing, screaming)? Maybe it's chubby thighs, or dimpled ankles. It could be the curve of a button nose, or that wayward curl that never stays in place. Sometimes it's chubby wrists, or the sun reflecting off gold flecked eyes. I'm just overwhelmed by the love, the perfect that is my baby. It's the dimpled chin, the crooked teeth, the sight of her cankles peeking out from too-short pants. It's the little space where her neck meets the back of her head, her stubby toes, and her chubby little baby bottom. It's like I hone in on one specific adorable, and the beauty of it makes me want to cry. I want to freeze time and stare at that dimpled thigh forever, content to watch this perfect baby sleep for the rest of my life.

Then reality takes over with Mads dumping the trash can, again, and I realize that I don't even have the vocabulary to describe those feelings anyways.

But they're always there.

*Squishy, sleepy lips and finger rolls... too.

The 72 Hour Death-Flu

This morning was worse. I went to bed last night feeling slightly better, I was completely sure that I would be 100% by morning. No. I got up at 5 to meet Tiven at the door, and I hate to say it but, I had to drop his screaming butt off on the bath-mat so I could purge some more water puke my fucking brains out. Tiven screamed like a banshee, Jeffrey wouldn't get up, Mads woke up early, and dammit, I was starving but couldn't eat anything. Remember how I said the past two days were the worst in my life? Let's bump that number up to three.

It's hard to remember my day now that Tiven is gone, and Mads is sleeping peacefully. I do remember tons of spit-up (that child must have a digestive issue). I also remember warning Jeffrey that if he didn't get up right now, I was going to sludge his pillow with diarrhea poo while his head was still fucking on it. I remember removing Tiven's bink from Mads' mouth about 500 times, and accidentally elbowing her in the forehead while she was gunnin' for his bottle. At noon, there was peace:

About 13 minutes of it.

But now it's over. I plan to pass Babe off to Jeffrey, curl up on the couch with a couple saltines, and pass out by 6pm.

I will never baby-sit with the flu again. No way.

The 45 Hour Death-Flu

Sunday evening, I didn't feel so hot. That night, I slept curled up by the toilet, afraid to venture to any other room. I couldn't even keep water down. My body hurt, I was freezing, and I think I cried for at least an hour. I had promised Summer that I would watch Tiven Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday, so at 5am on Monday, she dropped him off. I managed until 7am, still throwing up the water I kept forcing on myself, and then I passed both babies off to Jeffrey. I just couldn't handle it. The rest of Monday was like a blur, I slept the entire day, only waking up when Jeffrey would bring Mads in to eat. I don't even know how Tiven did. At around 8 last night, Jeffrey made me some dry toast, and I managed to eat the corners off of both pieces. I fell back asleep and didn't wake up until 5:30 this morning, when Tyler was pounding on the door to drop off Tiven. I still feel like hole. I had another piece of toast this morning, and managed to drink one whole glass of water. Tiven has been screaming since he got here, Mads hasn't taken a nap yet at all, and I just want to curl up on the floor with a blanket over my head. Mads keeps trying to poke out Tiven's eyes, and Tiven spits up every time I feed him.

This has been the worst two days of my life.

I Can't Count That High

How about that crash landing at the end? She tried to tackle me, but missed my arm completely.

What a big girl.

Last Night

I fell asleep with Mads, which means I went to bed at 7 and got up at 730. I don't feel well rested at all, just groggy and yucky. And starving.

Southern Living was silly. Super cute stuff, but I really don't have $60 to spend on a four pack of votive holders. I did promise to take the little book home so my Mum could buy something, it was the girl's first party and I felt sorry for her. Mads ripped the book up before we got home though. Eh.

Summer and I took the babies to dinner, and they were both beautifully behaved.

That's it.

6th Picture

Jen, from Life According to Jennifer tagged me for this meme.

Here are the RULES:

1. Go to your Picture Folder on your computer or wherever you store your pictures.

2. Go to the 6th Folder and then pick the 6th Picture.

3. Post it on your bloggy and tell the story that goes with the picture.

4. Tag 5 other glorious peoples to do the same thing and leave a comment on their bloggy tellin’ them ’bout it

This picture is so old. I probably had at least 2-3 years before I would legally be allowed to hold that Miller Lite. Maybe longer. That's my best friend, Summer. We were at Chris and Mike's new house celebrating the fact that they had re-built a bar in the basement (they weren't 21 yet either, lol). I know it looks like I'm about to fall off that damn stool, but I swear I wasn't. I can't tell you exactly what I was doing (can't remember), but I know I didn't fall off that stool. By midnight that night, Mike had convinced me that Chris owned an airplane, and that they would give me a ride home (from the Haven to State College) in their plane. He even promised that I could steer. I wasn't drunk, just dumb. Hey, he was a really good friend, why shouldn't I believe him?

I have to cheat on this meme. I can't post that picture without posting this picture:

This is the same day (if you look back, you'll see that the labels from the beer we're drinking in this picture, are actually stuck to the wall in the first picture :)). See that thing we're in? It's a demonstration pool, ya know the thing they use to show people what the real pool would look like if they bought it? Well Chris's parents sold swimming pools, and when Chris bought his house, they gave him the demo pool. See the white tubes coming out of the grill? They lead to the pool. Why? It's a frickin' hot tub. Those tubes are actually heating the pool and creating jet-like bubbles. HAHA!!! It's a frickin' hot tub heated by a frickin' grill!! I thought it was the most hick thing I had ever seen, but it actually worked. That thing was always at least 104 degrees, and Chris was insanely proud of it.

(Chris, the genius)

Crazy.

I tag:

1. Steph
2.Jillian
3.Holly Jo
4.Emily
5.Michelle

Edit: As it turns out, Chris really did have an airplane, but not the kind that you would think of when you hear the word "plane". Think more like "first flight" kind of thing.

Southern Living in the North?

You would think that after my Mary Kay experience last night, I would be done with selling parties for at least a couple weeks. You would think wrong. Summer asked me to go to a Southern Living party with her tomorrow afternoon, and since it's a baby-friendly party, I really don't have a good excuse not to go.

So what is Southern Living? I have no idea. I'm assuming it's like, houseware stuff with a southern theme, or something. Why they would have a Southern Living party in Pennsylvania, I'm really not sure, but any time spent with my loves is time well spent.

Maybe I'll buy Mads a cowboy hat to wear on her pony or something. They have those in the south, right? No wait, that's west. Maybe I'll get Mads a hoop skirt. That's definitely south.

Fridays

During the week, I keep this place pretty clean. I de-clutter, I wipe counters, and I spot vacuum chunks of cat hair and lint balls. Aside from constant laundry, that's about it. But Fridays man, Friday is the day that I get down on my hands and knees and scrub everything by three. It's the only day that I actually use all the attachments on the vacuum, the only day I would be willing to lick a toilet seat or eat off the bathroom floor. My least favorite chore used to be scrubbing the kitchen walls, but as Madelynn's collection of oversized toys grows, as do my loathsome feelings toward vacuuming.

After a little whining persuading (and maybe just a little deception), I convinced Jeffrey that our extra bedroom would be better used as a play-room, instead of a cat/junk/couch room.

This is probably the most exciting thing that has ever happened to me. I'm selling everything in that stupid room, couches, projector (that doesn't work), mini-fridge (that isn't even ours), all of it, gone. With my junk loot, I'm turning that room into the most fabulous play-room ever, and all that crap in my living room will have a new home. It's been a good cleaning day.

A Purple Breakfast

"Violet! You're turning violet, Violet!"

Violet Beauregard turned purple after a few chomps on some forbidden gum.

Madelynn turned purple after a breakfast of blueberries and strawberries.

Even after a bath, her cheeks and hands were stained purple. Her highchair is stained purple. My fingers are purple. It was a very purple morning.

Make Me Under

The "make-over party" was exactly what I thought it would be. Pink Cadillac drivin', Mary-Kay pushers trying to sell me forty-five dollar eye shadow and a dream job. The make-up remover couldn't get all my mascara off, the facial cleanser made my skin sticky, they had me in '80s-esque streaky blush, and my Denim Blue eye-makeup made me look like a drag queen. A drag queen with a very noticeable tumor on her his forehead.

My face looked better before Mary Kay. I'll stick to my three dollar Cover Girl blush and bronzer thank.you.very.much.

At one point, I must have slipped out of reality (or maybe it was into a coma) because I remember thinking, "Dude, I could totally sell Mary Kay. This is like, the best frickin' job EVER!" Haha. Those chicks are good. Or maybe they spiked the Sprite.

I did have fun though, it was nice to be just one of the girls for a couple hours.

Today's Been

Busy. Jeffrey has off so we've spent the day running all the errands that I've been putting off for like, years (life's hard with one car). Everyone needs to haul ass to Walmart, they had an end-cap of cleaning products on 2 for 5, and there were some really spectacular deals (4 pack Magic Erasers for $5!!) I now have enough cleaning junk to start a Merry Maid service.

We did find thirty seconds to take a picture:

Kinda.

The Pretzel People were a total bust, but my little banana man was a hit:

She had already removed his stick legs and blueberry hat before I took the picture. The Cheerio eyes fell off as she was picking it up. I said it was a hit, not that it was a good idea.

I'm going to this make-over thing at 6:30, which is great because I have a massive tumor on my forehead. Maybe Ms. Make-up Lady can hide that sucker with her Mary-Kay magic, or whatever it is. Perhaps I'll have pictures of a more glamorous Aimee to post when I get home.

:)

It's Snowing

I'm less than thrilled, but someone seems happy enough for the both of us.

I'm Like Santa's Crappiest Elf

Mads gets sick of her toys pretty easily. She's always looking for something bigger (or smaller) and better (or chokeable) to play with. When I'm not blogging during nap-time, I try to make her a toy out of random things around the house. Yesterday was rice and beads in a baby bottle (super easy, and a total hit), but I've made about 50 variations of that same toy using different containers, so I needed something else. The day before it was a Cheerio necklace, which she liked, but it was way messy. My plan today was to make my best toy yet.

Paper plates, dried beans, and scrap ribbon. Super cute, right?

But...

Only lasts for about 28 seconds after it reaches baby hands. If I could start over, I would have used a few paper plates on each side so that it wouldn't dent too easily.

Tomorrow: Pretzel People. It looks great in my head, but then again so did that paper plate thing. Edible is always better though, even if the toy sucks, there's still snack involved. Too bad I can't feed her dried beans.

You can see the remnants of yet another craptastic toy that didn't work out in the background. Where my toys lack quality, they make up for with cute. My vacation bible school teacher would be so proud.

Facts

Madelynn-

-loves the dishwasher. If she sees it open from across the room, it's a baby-mad-dash to get to the kitchen before I close it.
-likes: Cheerios, cheese, pasta, bread, carrots, yogurt, string beans, pears, apples, eggs, grapes, and strawberries. She tolerates everything else I feed her.
-drinks from a cup, a sippy, or a straw, depending on what is closest. Her favorite (and the messiest), is the cup.
-crawls down from bed in the morning without a peep, and roams the bedroom.
-will probably be sleeping with us until she goes to college.
-maxed out her walking abilities at six steps. We're trying for seven today.
-wears 6-9 months, and size three diapers.
-carries a wooden spoon or a stuffed puppy everywhere she goes.
-loves bath-time, pony-time, and being on shoulders.
-dances with Mommy for about an hour a day.
-loves her highchair(s).
-is amazed by: windows, light switches, door stops, cupboard doors, phone chargers, and playstation controllers.
-hates hats, bows, bibs, and getting dressed. Won't sit still for diaper changes, feeding sessions, or nail clippings.
-speed crawls, stumble walks, and kitty tackles.
-will not tolerate being in her pack-n-play, her crib, or her car seat longer than absolutely necessary.
-bumps her head 23,456 times a day, and always has a little cut on one of her fingers, little bruises on her knees, and a red mark on her nose.
-bites really hard.
-likes to open mail, stick stickers, and eat paper scraps.
-chews on shoes, slippers, and purses.
-knows what "NO" means, but doesn't care.
-goes to bed at 7:00 and wakes up at 7:30. She nurses about 23,456 times a night, but we both sleep through it, so that number is just an estimate.
-loves to cuddle. While playing, she drops what she's doing to give me a hug, and then back to playing.
-will not look at the camera, smile for a picture, or do anything amazing when the red light is blinking. She will however chew on the camera if given the opportunity.
-hides the remote control in weird places: under the table, in her toy basket, behind the trash can in the kitchen, in the bathroom, and under her pony.
-is ticklish on her feet, on her sides, and the back of her thighs.
-lifts her arms when getting undressed, when I'm putting the tray on the highchair, or when she hears the words "So Big!"
-plays guitar, the drums, and the piano.
-knows when she's doing something that she shouldn't, does it anyways.
-always wakes up before I finish a blog post.

What Kind of Car Do You Drive?

Me? I drive a 2000 Escort ZX2, piece of crap that it is. The car became a piece of shit about seven years ago and I've been driving it for, oh I dunno, seven fucking years.

But Mads though, she's ridin' in style in her Pampers Cruisers 3.76 Turbo.

Looks like she's just sitting in it, right? Well she is. It doesn't go unless the Mommy engine is behind it. Duh.

The Mady cruiser is the coolest ride in town, and is totally unaffected by rising gas prices. I wish I had one.

* I've been driving the same car since I was 16. I've put over 100,000 miles on it myself (it already had 50,000), and it's made trips to Florida, a couple rides to NC and back, and numerous off-roading experiences when I was in high school. We even drove through three towns on railroad tracks. We would have stopped sooner, but do you know how hard it is to find a place to turn around on railroad tracks? (Don't worry, no trains on them for years). Anyways, it's finally starting to sputter going up hill, so I'm hoping it will just die a nice, quiet death so I can put it where it belongs... a junk-yard. It's been good to me, but it's time to let go.

A Good Source of Fiber, No?

Madelynn loves to play with paper, and loves to eat it even more. Toilet paper? Practically melts in your mouth. Newspaper? Leaves fun colors on drool covered hands. Super cool. The first three pages of Genesis? Holy paper! You can't leave any paper product alone with this child. She eats the corners off of board books, chews on receipts, and swallows the flaps on envelopes.

But her absolute, most favorite, totally fabulous, paper product is:

A magazine. If she's been an exceptionally good girl all day, I'll throw her an old Cosmo and stand back while she rips each page into little shreds. I fish from her mouth glossy spit-wad after glossy spit-wad until I just can't take it anymore, or she runs out of full pages to tear, whichever comes first.

Talk about recycling.

* So the story with the mismatched babylegs... When I was dressing her this morning, I couldn't find the match to either of those leg warmers, and I had just done laundry so I assumed the dryer had taken those babylegs to that sock pile in the sky (why would they discriminate against babylegs? They wouldn't), which made me very sad. But rejoice, while I was picking up all the bottles that Mads had knocked off her changing table, I found BOTH the matches pushed back underneath it. They never even made it to the washer. So now those two pairs will probably be forever mismatched, because they will never be washed at the same time. Does that make sense? No. No it doesn't.

Yummy Pony

Madelynn loves that pony. The second she sees it, she starts "ooh"ing at it, and baby sprints straight for it. When I lift her up to put her on, she spreads her legs and grabs on to the pegs, she knows exactly what to do. When my knees finally get tired from pushing her 20 laps around the apartment, I pull her off and she throws a hissy fit. When I get sick of looking at it, I take it to her room to get it out of the way, and she knows exactly where it is. She's constantly looking for that pony.

I can't for the life of me figure out who bought her that thing, but when I do, I'm sending them a really nice card.

Morning

Mads woke up earlier than usual this morning. I'm not sure what time exactly, I think it was like 6:45-7:00 and I already had her teeth brushed, clothes on, and diaper changed. That's early. I needed coffee, so I needed to keep babe occupied while I stumbled through the coffee-making motions.

It's the pot thing to the rice cooker thing. Why? I dunno. I just wasn't thinking.

That's an awful noise for 6:45am.

Happy Valentine's Day

Madelynn style.

The Day of Love

I forgot to get Jeffrey a card. That's not true, I just put it off and put it off until I had run out of time. I had planned to go buy one this morning before he woke up, but when I looked out the window and saw that it was snowing, I just didn't feel like it.

Home-made cards are better anyways. Nothing says 'I Love You' like a scrap card with a beautiful, heartfelt message inside.

Unfortunately, by the time I had finished the front of the card, I was just too bored to come up with something beautiful and heartfelt.

Happy V-Day Yo! it is.

* I am obviously NOT a scrapbooker, or a photographer for that matter. I couldn't find any glue, all that crap is just taped on.

Our Afternoon

Neatly packaged and labeled in Windows Movie Maker.

:)

Nine Month Well-Baby

So Mads had her nine month today, and when they measured her, they told me she was 27in. Now wait, she was 27 and 1/4in three months ago, so you're trying to tell me she shrunk?? Not possible, not possible at all, she can reach things that she never could, and I swear she's way taller than she used to be. They measured her three times, and got 27in each time. So now they're saying that they must have messed up the measurements at the last visit, because babies don't get shorter. I have no idea how tall this baby is, or how tall she used to be, and I'm a little sad that it's going to mess up my baby book. :(

As for weight, she dropped down to the 25th percentile weighing 16lbs. 13 oz. I asked if I should try to fatten her up a bit, but her ped. said that slow weight gain was to be expected because she's a booby baby, and it's nothing to worry about.

So am I worried? No. (Well, maybe just a tad when I think about her shrinking.) The kid has rolls, she's not skinny. I wouldn't expect her to be a big baby, Jeffrey and I are both little people, if she were huge, we'd have to worry that she was really the product of some kind of alien invasion or something.

No shots today, although they did prick her finger to check her iron. She was in the normal range, so I guess all that iron cereal has done it's job.

Naked-Baby-Rule

There's a rule in this apartment. If you're eating anything other than Cheerios, you must be naked. I tried to apply this rule to Jeffrey, but he didn't think it was funny, so Mads is really the only one who follows it.

No matter how big the bib is, no matter how far I roll her sleeves up, Mads is always covered in whatever she is eating. She's one of those babies that likes to rub her food in her hair before she eats it. I find food behind her ears, on the back of her neck, you name it, it's been covered. Instead of giving myself a complex over hand scrubbing baby clothes, or *gasp* feeding her with a spoon*, I made the naked baby rule.

It works.

* I refuse, REFUSE, to feed this kid with a spoon. She sucks the food off and then raspberries it right back into my face. It's gross. She will only swallow if she holds the spoon herself or uses her fingers.

The View From the Shower

Of all the changes that occur when you become a new parent, learning how to shower with a baby around has been one of the hardest for me to cope with. In the beginning, showers were taken while Babe was asleep, usually broken into three or four segments where I would have to get out and soothe her, then get back in and suds a new body part. Later on, I realized the benefits of co-bathing, but I've never been a bath person, I just don't feel clean after sitting in pee water (her pee, not mine). Then co-showering, which was a lifesaver for about a month, until Mads started walking all around the tub, pulling down soap bottles and scratching my legs. So now I've had to change the showering protocol once again, and I tell you, it's a flippin' process.

First I have to baby proof the bathroom. This includes moving out the trash can, taking the toilet paper off the roll, and sweeping the floor in case there's a hidden bobby-pin or hair clip under the mat. Then come the toys, toys scattered all over the floor, toys hanging from the now empty toilet paper dispenser, and toys blocking the little pipe thing behind the toilet. Now I have to make the bathroom a fun place, I need to sit on the floor and spend 3-5 minutes showing Madelynn every toy, making each one uber-exciting so she's happy to play with them. Finally, I can get in the shower.

In the shower, the curtain can only be half way closed, heaven forbid Madelynn not be able to come to the tub and check on me. While washing my hair, I need to pick up the toy that Mads has just dropped in the tub, chuck it across the room, and scrub as fast as I can before she returns to drop in another toy. During conditioner, I have to coo at Madelynn to calm her temper tantrum, I had "accidentally" threw her favorite block into the sink. While rinsing, my job is to hold the curtain in place with one hand, attempt to keep the gallon of water off the floor after Babe yanks the curtain out to get a better view. When drying off, it's back to cooing, Mads is upset because her hair and clothes are wet, she was quite drenched when she found herself on the water side of the curtain, unable to find her way out. Finally the shower is done. My baby is soaked, the floor is covered in water, and there are a shit ton of wet toys scattered around.

But hey, I'm clean.

Madelynn Who?

On this blog, I write about Madelynn using her real name, or I shorten it to Mads or Mady. You know this, so you're probably wondering why I feel the need to tell you. Or maybe you're not wondering at all and I'm just writing to the crickets here, but my point to this post is that I never call her those things in real life (except Mads, but I usually shorten it even further to just plain Mad). I'm surprised the kid even knows her name, she only hears it maybe twice a week. So what do I call her? A better question would be 'what don't I call her'.

Babe, Baby, Babs, Bonzo, Bubble, Booger, Boob, Boobie, and Butt.
Pookie, Dookie, Pookie Bubble, Pookie Dookie, Pookie Face, Bubble Face, Dookie Butt, Pookie Butt, and Bubble Butter.
Hieny Whiner, Turkey Lurker, and Oopsie Pooper.
Pooper Scooper, Poop Face, Poop Butt, and Poopy-Dooper.
Drool Master, Ankle Biter, and Looky-do.
Champ, Sport, and Cootie Princess.
Millie, Silly Millie, Millie-Lynn, and Millie Tilly.
Crazy Jane, Monster Mash, and Skipper-Doodle.
Kid, Yo Kid, Crazy Kid, and Kid-Mitten.

I could go on forever, but I won't. I think you get the idea.

Crazy Jane, Millie-Lynn, and Turkey Lurker are probably the most common, followed closely by Poop Face and Kid-Mitten. Funny though, I don't even know anyone named Jane.

Spell check went freaking crazy on this one.

"Mom! Where's My Other Shoe??"

I'm still shocked every time she walks half way across the living room. She just looks too small to be doing that.

Finally, New Perfume!

After my not so subtle hinting about my desire for new perfume, Jeffrey took me to the perfume capital of Centre County (Macy's). I sniffed every scent on all the counters, sprayed little card after little card, and marveled over the elaborate packaging of perfume these days (I'm not old, I just don't shop for perfume very often). My Mum has a very extensive perfume collection, some of them dating back to the 80's I believe, and every bottle is basically the same. Clear square bottle, pink, clear, or yellow perfume. Period. Now though, bottles shaped like fruits, bottles with chains and charms, and a few bottles that showed an eerie resemblance to sex toys (two gifts for the price of one?). I tried to ignore the free gifts, not wanting to choose my new signature scent based on the cuteness of the free tote, or the novelty of the odd shaped bottle glittering with gemstones. By the time we hit the third counter, my sense of smell had been desensitized to the point that I couldn't smell a damn thing. That's when I gave up, threw my hands in the air and told Jeffrey I'd like a bottle of my same old same old... again.

But on the way out, I spritzed this on my wrists:

It comes with NO free gift, and it isn't even shaped like a phallus!

Oh yeah, and I smell freaking awesome. Happy V-Day to me!

Fun Fact

The person who invented the strobe light was probably about nine months old. Fact.

Stepping into my bathroom is like walking into a rave. (But quieter. And drug-free. And lacking glow sticks. No fog either. Okay, it's nothing like a rave at all, but you totally know what I mean. [Hey, I'm a 90's kid, you know I've never been to a freaking rave.] Geez.)

Finally, Someone Made the Freaking Bed

[See that, Cecilia? Not only is the bed made, but notice how the massive pile of dirty clothes (or clean, I never know) isn't surrounding it anymore? You won't have to have nightmares about Mads suffocating under a pair of sweatpants ever again. I found a hamper.]

:)

A Lapse in Sanity

You can always tell who dressed my kid. If she's wearing blue pants, a pink shirt, purple socks with yellow polka-dots, and a green bow, well then that was most obviously Jeffrey. A onesie that says "Summer Love" worn in January? Jeffrey. Halloween outfit in February (before going out to lunch)? Jeffrey. Covered in drool, cheerio crumbs, and the yogurt she had for breakfast? Totally Jeffrey.

Entire ensemble holding at least one matching color, hair cutesy, and face clean? Yeah, that would be me. All the time. It doesn't matter if we're not going to leave the house, I just like her to match. I take a lot of pictures, I would like her to be presentable at all times, camera ready from sun up to sun down.

So who dressed this kid? Well that would be me. I don't know what happened. I think I started with the onesie with blue pants, then she dropped something on the pants so I threw on BabyLegs, then it got a little chilly so I added the sweatshirt. Or maybe I just dressed her that way in some kind of early morning delusional episode. I honestly can't remember.

Anyways, I guess there are two points here. First, Jeffrey isn't always the culprit when Mads is the mismatched kid, so stop blaming him. And second, how freaking cute does she look with polka-dots/stripes/neutrals/neons all mixed into one outfit? This kid can totally pull off whatever disaster we put her in.

Poor kid.

Mum-mum

Madelynn mum-mum-mums all over the house when she's hungry, tired, or bored. Sleepy baby? Mum-mum. Fell and smashed your head off the coffee table? Mum-mum. Can't catch the cat? Mum-mum while crying.

So what is mum-mum? Is it a distorted version of mama? I guess it could be, but not in this case. Does it in any way mean Mommy? No, not really.

Mum-mum = boob. She says it when she wants to nurse, which means she says it all day long while yanking on my shirt (since nursing is the cure to all things unpleasant).

Cute? Totally. Err, well, it was at first, ya know, when I thought she was calling me mama. But now that I know she only sees me as a walking, talking breast, I'm just a little worried. If boob = mum-mum, what is she going to call me?

It's a good question.

Don't You Just Hate It...

When you run out of toilet paper?

Mommy-Baby Picture Disaster

There are about three pictures of Madelynn and I together. Three in nine months. Okay, maybe it's more than three, but definitely no more than five and a half. Why is that?

1. There's no one here to take the pictures for us.

2. Madelynn won't sit still for longer than six seconds.

3. I never like how I look in pictures.

4. I hate taking pictures of myself. It just feels... weird.

On Friday, since I was already presentable from running errands, I decided to stop making lists of reasons to NOT take pictures, and just take the freaking pictures already.

Let's start with the outtakes.

Now, when I saw this picture, my first thought was, "Wow, this kid has some large top teeth." Not a very nice thing for a Mommy to think, but I'm honest here. Then I saw this:

Good Lord. Why the hell didn't anyone tell me that my teeth were two sizes bigger than humongous?? Like seriously, I had no idea how tall my teeth were until I saw this. Holy teeth.

I won't mind if Mads has some tall ass teeth like her Mommy (tall teeth rock), I just hope she doesn't inherit my six-head.

I have about fifty-seven off-center pictures just like this. I can't figure out how to hold the camera in front of me. I move it one way, I get just the corner of Mady's head. I turn it slightly to the right and get the freaking wall. I don't get it. In an attempt to make it easier on myself, I decided to try mirror pictures. Those should be easy, right?

Hmm. Or not. Although it is a pretty good photo of the TRUblend. (Speaking of make-up, my Rite-Aid has all CoverGirl cosmetics for buy one get one. I don't know if that's all Rite-Aids, but if you use CG, it's definitely worth a look. I have enough make-up stocked up to last me a couple years now.)

Also, about forty-three pictures of random body parts. A hand here, a baby elbow there, hey there's my shoulder right next to Madelynn's knee arm?! Good one! I call them 'action' shots. Add to those the hundred and sixty-seven pictures of Mads looking everywhere but at the camera, and I'll have the worst photo album in history.

Notice how in all the pictures, I'm cheesing just a little too hard. Okay, way hard. I need to tone down that fake smile a couple notches.

And finally, we end the outtakes with some hair pulling. Story of my life.

Out of three hundred and twenty-eight pictures, there has to be a couple good ones. You would think so.

Mads and I both have weird hair, but when you factor in that we're both looking at the camera, these are the best of the lot. I put the camera down exhausted and a little disappointed. But hey, that's my life up there. It's really not so bad.

I so hate my hair though.

I figure I'll try again in another nine months.