Baby When the Lights...Go Out....

Old school.....kick it!

Mama's back out of the dark from the hurricane. And not a moment too soon. Though I really can't complain, the baby, contrary as her mother is I suppose, slept her best ever. 2 month developmental breakthrough or the "My Big Fat Gypsy Wedding" marathon that we endured up until the lights went out? I guess we'll never know.

And speaking of 2 months, we had the dreaded 2 month shoot em up appointment today. The baby had a shiz fit breakdown because we took her clothes off, she's very modest. But held up surprisingly well for the shot portion of it. Weighing in at a svelte 10lb6oz, standing tall at approx. 22 3/4", and chowing down on a dainty 4 oz bottle this means one thing...my baby is skinnier than your baby.  If I was a lesser person, I'd sign her up for modeling or pageantry.

In You-Tubing this little gem, the side-bar pulled up all related 90's UK/Irish pop group videos, including B*Witched. What a trip down memory lane...though in actuality a filthy little song wrapped in a catchy ditty. I think I'll have to go Tipper Gore on the baby once she's old enough to listen to music to prevent her from listening to trashy European pop. She'll learn to appreciate the real classics from an early age...such as Mr. Big. The bigger the hair, usually the better the music. I have a theory that the music you listened to when you were in 4th grade is the music that you gravitate to towards the rest of your life. So in my case, this would be 1994's/1995's wave of college rock/alternative/and that last glimmer of hair bands once they lopped off a few inches and stopped wearing makeup. Since music has really only deteriorated since then, I don't even want to imagine the drivel that the baby will be listening to in 2020. Well, not my baby....maybe yours.

I Totally Miss My Phonetics Courses...

sat·ire [sat-ahy^uhr]   

noun

1.

the use of irony, sarcasm, ridicule, or the like, in exposing, denouncing, or deriding vice, folly, etc.

2.

a literary composition, in verse or prose, in which human folly and vice are held up to scorn, derision, or ridicule.

3.

a literary genre comprising such compositions.

Turtles are the New Monkey, and the Perils of Online Shopping...

In the months preparing for the arrival of the baby, I stocked up on all things monkey. Onesies, socks, mitts, toys, bathrobes, everything. If you met myself or my husband, you would understand. We were fully prepared for a little monkey, with a full head of dark hair and dark eyes just like mommy and daddy had at birth. You can imagine our shock when she came out nearly bald, with red-toned fuzz, and eyes that kind of blue that you know are likely going to stay blue after the requisite year of baby blues. Huh...just realized that's probably where the saying came from. For someone so book smart, sometimes I can be a little slow! Anyways...the baby looked more turtle than monkey, so that's what I've been affectionately calling her. With her little fuzzy head and penchant for bobbing her neck and sticking out her tongue, the resemblance is uncanny. So you can imagine my dismay when on a recent shopping trip, I noticed the tides have turned. Monkeys were SO last season. Now, the same towels, robes, onesies, that just months ago were adorned with monkeys, are covered in TURTLES. For real? Now I feel like an unoriginal hack, and while tempted to buy all things turtle for my little turtle, can't seem to rationalize buying the same exact items featuring a different animal.  I guess I do have some conscious despite becoming a mommy spendthrift.

Time at home in front of the computer is a dangerous thing. Especially when there are so many things to BUY. As of late, it seems that my maternity leave pay has been used solely to provide for the baby. I'm being selfless, and still can shop! It's the best of both worlds really. Besides the staples like diapers and formula, there's toys to be had. Oh, the toys. Sure, she can't use many of them yet, but she will be able to soon. A playmat, a jumperoo, a swing, a bouncer, a tea set, a stacker, rattles, stuffed animals up the wazoo. And books. I had a field day at Border's going out of business sale. While deeply depressing, and part of the mourning process for my lost youth, I at least was able to add to the small library we are amassing for the baby. She's very advanced. She's already saying Maaaaaaaaaaaaa at the ripe old age of 2 months. Don't tell me otherwise. Oh what's that? Carter's is having a 25% off sale? Well, she does need some long sleeves for Fall. We can't have the baby being cold after all.


And I'm not really counting the money spent on photography and the printing of the countless pictures we're taking. This is all for posterity, and should be tax deductible. But damn that starts to add up too. And you can't have all these pictures just lying around...you need frames, albums, photo boxes, etc. And with the holidays coming up, there's Halloween costumes to purchase, Christmas outfits to select and photo cards to be created and sent...well, you get the picture.

I find myself wishing I was on the same mailing lists as my mother, just so I could receive those country-inspired junk catalogs in the mail, to "peruse" through to decorate the humble abode. And by peruse...well, probably buy. And the deliciously tacky and ironically named "Touch of Class". One must have a Safari room right next to the taffeta and marble Italian Renaissance room. And in looking for houses and seeing the interiors of some of them...well, it seems that this is a very popular catalog indeed amongst the Long Island housewife set. Remember what money can't buy kids...

It seems the turtle has finally been pacified after a fussy morning of not quite finishing her bottles and a minor poopsplosion. I'm going to chalk it up to being freshly changed in to an outfit covered in monkeys while being wrapped in a blanket covered in turtles.

Come on Irene...

Brief interlude...I feel like this is the wedding all over again. Why? Because I have meticulously timed the mailing of the birth announcements to arrive at the 2 month mark...and now there is a hurricane due to hit. I can't possibly have the birth announcements go through the postal service and risk getting wet and having the ink run. Damn you natural disasters...interfering with my plans.

A VERY Dirty Secret....

I enjoy playing with the baby's snot. There, I said it. I never knew there would be anything as gratifying as seeing that little booger get sucked out by the nasal aspirator. Great success!

Highlights, High Heels, and the Gym Going Set

Having some practice at being a SAHM the past few weeks has been enlightening. First order of business, shortly after popping out the bambina, was to trade in my beloved "Guidette Mobile", the 2 door Scion tC, for a respectable child toting vehicle. Now that I had the wheels, in the form of a Subaru Forester, I quickly decorated it with the oh so clichéd "Baby on Board" sign. After that was settled, and I determined that the baby had been cooped up home long enough, I slowly ventured back out in to the real world, ready to enjoy my time off with my little girl, and catch up on some errands that have long been put off.

A little background which will make this a WHOLE lot easier to understand. We're situated on Long Island, which is an interesting little microcosm in its own right. Especially when it comes to mommy-hood. The part of Long Island which I grew up in is very chichi, where housewives rock rocks the size of a small third world country, get their hair and nails done throughout the week, go to the gym, and lunch. Nice work if you can get it. When this is burned in to your subconscious from an early age, it's hard to be able to stray. Even when you grow up, move away, get married, get a job...and you think that you're your own person. Then BAM. Out comes the baby, and all of a sudden it's like a microchip that was embedded in my brain goes off, and I have this uncontrollable urge to return back to the mothership, and Stepford on.

My first visit back home with the baby was when she was 6 weeks old, and I had to visit my dr. in the area for the pospartum appointment. Since this was my first real time out since she had been born, I took full advantage of my mother's babysitting, and ran away after the appointment, to the nearby harborfront village. I took the time to soak up the sun, window shop, have a latte...and as I did so, and looked at all the other women around me, some with baby carriages, some older though still housewives, I thought was it possible I was like them after all? Even though I had sneered all these years at the like?  I guess it's nature after all...every time I have been back out to my mother's since, I've felt the call of the village, and have gone to observe, and found myself feeling more and more at home with the idea of yeah...this should be me too. Bringing the baby out for tea and toys on a sunny afternoon. Maybe they had the right idea all along. I found myself taking advantage of this time to work on looking the part of a super mommy...hair shorn and colored, gym membership pending, and as soon as those shots are done, you can bet that baby is coming with us to the village for a stroll.


Stay tuned as the transformation continues...

I guess this started back in October...

It's hard to find a spare moment when you have an 8 week old. Naptime is precious. That means I get to eat or drink! Or I guess now, blog.

My first child was born 2 months ago, and it's true what they say...life hasn't been the same since. I went from being a relatively carefree young married, to a harried mom. It's a tough balance to take care of your child, while still maintaining your own identity, hobbies, and needs. Not to mention while simultaneously running a household, taking care of the other baby in the family (husband, of course) and eventually returning to work full time.

I guess this is a sounding board to get it all out there. I'm sure plenty can relate...when all of a sudden, they step back and realize that they've turned in to the stereotypical "Mommy Cliché"!