Today is “One of Those Days” with my daughter.
Just now, I commanded her to take a nap.
“Daughter, I command thee to lay down and take a nap!” She responded with “Nap? HA! I STOMP ON YOUR NAP!”
Notice how after she realizes I’ve just caught her NOT napping on tape she stops for a second like “OOPS, busted!” but then she’s all “WHATEVER! Jumping is fun! Weeeee!”
Yeah. It’s great to know that she RESPECTS MY AUTHORITY.
I do believe she’s finally come to terms with the fact that The Bobs are gone forever.
Now, if only I could come to terms with the fact that I’ll never be a breastfeeding mother ever again.
It’s hard to say goodbye to that part of my life as a woman, harder than I ever imagined it would be.
I really wanted to write about what could easily be called The Best Aerobic Dance Class EVER. I’m not just saying that because I remembered the routine and did NOT mess up when the instructor forgot the moves and how I kept going and how the instructor was all “VERY GOOD EVAN” (that’s what she calls me and oh, how my heart melts when she calls me that) and how when we were finished with the dance, she turned, looked right at me, started cheering and said “BRAVO, EVAN!
BRAVO!
SWEET REDEMPTION.
God, how I want to tell you all about the class last night, but, man, I need to talk about my daughter.
Do you mind if I talk about my daughter?
I think she’s the most beautiful, loving, funny (She farts on command, people! Which reminds me, last night, my husband asked me to stop commanding her to fart because, apparently, one night when we were having a Farting on Command-athon, she “squirted” a little and when he went to give her a bath, there was a streak of wet poop in her diaper and GOD FORBID HE HAVE TO WIPE A STREAK OF WET POOP. Seriously, people, he asked me in a SERIOUS TONE to stop “commanding her to fart.” Ha! Ha! I love my life!) little girl I’ve ever known. I’m constantly in amazed by her personality and MY GOD, I love her.
I love her. I love her. I love her.
However! She’s turning into a stinkin’ little brat.
Funny thing is that whenever I mention this to people, their response goes a little something like this “Well, DUH!”
People say things like “of course she’s a little brat, she’s got all of you people spoiling her. How could she NOT be a little brat?”
The good news is that she is not an “asshole” brat. She’s more of a “throws herself back and screams in a high pitched voice when she doesn’t get what she wants” brat.
Come to think of it, she’s not really a brat at all, but more of an “overly emotional drama queen who refuses to keep her diaper on during naptime.”
(Can you tell I’m uncomfortable calling my Precious Daughter a “brat?”)
She’s always been prone to The Dramatics, but it seems to be getting worse.
(Bonus: The Dramatics: A slide show.)
Girlfriend gets pissed in the blink of an eye. One minute she’s kissing and hugging me, the next she’s trying to bite my finger off.
I think part of her “acting out” has to do with her inability to communicate what she wants. You see, my daughter doesn’t have a great vocabulary. It’s crazy to me and my husband because our boys were both early talkers. They were talking in complete sentences before they turned two. We get excited when G-Unit puts two words together. And they’re words that DON’T EVEN MAKE SENSE.
Let me give you an example of her vocabulary.
“DoeDoe”-Cereal (and yogurt)
“Beebee”- Blankie
“hmpeeet”- armpit
“duddee”- Duckie
“buhwhat”- Butt
“brubers”-Brothers
And so on and so forth.
Total improvement from her vocabulary of two months ago, which basically consisted of EVERYTHING (Except BOBS, DAD, MOM and NO) being called “DADA.”
This is how a conversation went back then.
Her:DADA!
Me: Blankie?
Her: NO! DADA!
Me: Crackers?
Her: No! DADA! DADA!
Me: Um, You want to color?
Her: NO! WAH! OMG! DADADADADA
Me: UM, WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU SAYING, CHILD OF MINE?
Her: pointing to the TV- DADA!
Me: Ohhhhhh! You want to watch TV?
Her: DADADADA!
You get the idea. It was maddening.
I’m sure if she could articulate her needs that she’d be less prone to do things like “bite her brother in the face” when he doesn’t understand that “DOODOOGOBODOBRUBBER” means “back the hell up and stop kissing me RIGHT THIS MINUTE!”
I’m not making excuses for her biting, because it’s unacceptable behavior, but! If someone was all up in your grill and you your jibber jabber couldn’t convince that someone to kindly remove themselves from your grill, wouldn’t you get frustrated at your inability to communicate your need for them to STEP OFF?
Or, maybe I am making excuses for her biting because having a child that bites is embarrassing!
My boys were NEVER this demanding, this dramatic, this… this… DIFFICULT.
Is it a “girl” thing? Is it a “last child” thing? Or is it just a “GABRIELLA” thing?
Or, perhaps it’s a “We’ve really turned into crappy parents in our old age” thing.
Gah.
My daughter has always been The Perfect Sleeper.
I’ve not talked much about it, only because I have friends who have problems with their children sleeping and I didn’t want to come off as bragging or rubbing it in their faces. I’m sensitive like that.
She started sleeping through the night at around 4 weeks old. At 5 months old, I stopped rocking her to sleep and let her cry it out. It took exactly 2 days and after that? I could lay her down, kiss her goodnight and within 5 minutes she’d be out for at least 9 hours. (I know people like to get all “high and mighty” about letting a child cry it out, but the way I see it? I did my babies a favor, by letting them learn how to go to sleep on their own. End of discussion.) She’s been sleeping through the night ever since AND she still takes 3 naps a day (at least an hour each).
BUT THAT ALL OF THAT HAS CHANGED.
And I blame The Bobs.
When I lay her down now? She starts screaming for me.
“MOM. MOOOOOM. MOOOOOOOOM”
Followed by “One More. One More.”
Followed by “Please? BOBS. BOBSBOBS PLEEEEAAAASE.”
The first night it happened, I made the mistake of going back into her room. As soon as she saw me, she started LAUGHING! Like, “haha, sucker, it didn’t take much to make you cave, did it?” Then, she reached for my boobs.
“One more?”
I gave in because, well, I was tired of the screaming.
Big mistake.
Last night, she pulled that crap again. And this, I put my foot down (and The Bobs away) and refused to go in there to get her.
Man, was she pissed. She screamed at me for a good hour. Then, she started screaming for dad. Then, for brubers. At first, it was funny. I mean, my baby girl, screaming for “One more Bob.” But, as 11 approached and she was still screaming, it wasn’t funny anymore. I began to feel desperate and it became very clear to me that “It’s time to stop breastfeeding.”
I don’t like the way she is demanding that I give her more and then holding my sleep hostage if I do not meet her demands.
I admit a big reason that I’m still breastfeeding her is due to my emotional attachment and very little to do with her needs. Knowing this is my last baby, that this is the last time I’ll ever be a “nursing mother” is hard for me to accept and deal with, so, I continue to nurse her.
But three nights of very little sleep due to a child who thinks SHE OWNS MY BOOBS AND THE MILK THEY PRODUCE and I’m thinking I may be ready to quit and to let The Tittymilk dry up for good.
I’m just not sure I’m prepared for the HELL that Gabby is going to put me through once I make the “No more BOBS for you” decision.
rrrrrry yyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy
yyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy
yyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy
yyyyyyyuuuuuuuuuuuiiii cvc0
My daughter has another ear infection and a touch of the flu. It’s obvious she’s in pain and uncomfortable by the way she’s clinging to me and letting me hold her in my arms. Normally, being held is torture to her, for there are picture frames that need to be broken, furniture just waiting to be scratched, dented and spilled on, there are toys that must be scattered in every room of the house and little objects to be placed into her mouth.
Not today. Today she wants “mama” to hold her, to cuddle with her and um, to give her The Bobs.
Yes, I’m still breasfeeding my daughter. No, not as often as I used to, but yeah, still doing that whole “tittymilk distrubution” thingy up in here.
DO NOT JUDGE ME.
Let me rephrase that.
Do not judge me as I have judged others, because you may say to yourself “I will NEVER breastfeed a child that can ask for it, but until you become and old, lazy woman who JUST WANTS TO SLEEP IN and you learn the way to sleep in is to bring your child into bed with you and let them drink of The Bobs, well, you really have no business passing judgement on others.
Long live The Tittymilk!
I feel badly for my little girl, I truly hate for her to be in pain. I’ll do anything I can to cheer her up, even if that means drinking excessive amounts of diet coke to WOW her with my contest winning burping skills. There really isn’t anything I won’t do to make her smile, because seeing her sickly breaks my heart.
Lucky for me, it’s not hard to get the girl to smile.
She is such a good natured little girl.
Do not mistake “good natured” with “Always happy and sweet” because Girlfriend is a Drama Queen prone to The Dramatics. However, she’s also incredibly affection, deeply loving and ridiculously funny. She’s a joy to know and a pleasure to care for when sick.
Well, except for the part where I have to take off her puked up jammies. That is definitely not pleasurable. Nor is the writing of checks for “named brand” prescriptions (thank you jackass urgent care doctor, seriouly, ammoxicillan would have been just fine, thank you very much.) But every other aspect of caring for Her Sickness is my pleasure.
Inspite of her pain and illness, she still manages to giggle at my silliness, to lavish my cheeks with her sweet little kisses, to wrap her tiny little arms around my neck and squeeze me tightly whilst telling me she loves me. The girl is an angel.
An angel who says “Shit” when pissed, but still, an angel.
I’ve told you before about The Charm. How my daughter uses it to get out of pretty much any trouble she gets into.
Well, “The Charm” is losing some of it’s “cred” with Momma.
I mean, she’s really cute and all, but when she slams her head repeatedly on the ground to demonstrate just how pissed off she is that you took the pencil away from her, NOT SO CUTE.
Recently, I asked her to throw something in the trash and to my surprise? She did it! So, I clapped and cheered! “Yay! Gabby threw away the trash!” And when daddy came home, I showed him what she had learned and we all clapped and cheered “Yay! Gabby threw the trash away!”
What I did not realize at the time was that she would think it was cute to THROW EVERYTHING SHE GOT HER HANDS ON AWAY because, “Hey! The People cheer when I throw things in this white box!”
I couldn’t find my keys anywhere this morning and after hours of searching, it hit me… “Look in the trash.”
The trash that was full of raw chicken skin and tomatoes chunks and dirty diapers because The Children were too cold to take out the trash last night and mama let them slide. And thank goodness for that because GUESS WHERE MY KEYS WERE?
I stuck my hands in, dry heaving the entire time and WHAT DO YA KNOW! My keys, they were there at the bottom of the trash.
I’m pretty sure she clappped and cheered when she threw them in and thought “wow, I’m so cute! And smart! I wonder how my parents can stand it!”
I can’t stand it most days, because, My God, the girl is beautiful, smart, hilarious and she farts on command.
But lately? The Charm is being overshadowed by “The Stubborn” and “The Cranky” and “The Slightly Evil.”.
Yesterday, I had to add “Sweep” to the List of Things I Can Not Do While Gabby is Awake because she MUST PLAY WITH THE PILE OF DUST. And if I tell her “no!” All hell breaks loose. And when I say “hell” I mean, Full Blown Tantrums. How DARE I not let her play in the filth.
Other “things” included on that list are
1. Load the dishwasher
2. Watch Tv
3. Eat
4. Poop (which, not really a problem considering I haven’t gone in oh, what 5 days?)
5. Talk on the phone
6. WRITE WITH A PEN, PENCIL OR MARKER
I’m forgetting one. What IS it. Oh! Yes! FOLD AND PUT AWAY CLOTHES !
I tried that the other day and five minutes after putting all of her neatly folded clothes away? That happened.
Of course, she busted out The Charm BIG TIME and flashed that big, goofy smile of hers when she realized I was SLIGHTLY PISSED. And it worked, but I’m telling you people, IT IS LOSING IT’S MAGIC BECAUSE GIRLFRIEND IS OUT OF CONTROL.
I can only imagine the teenage years.
God help us all.
There was a time where I did not enjoy going out in public with my daughter and avoided it whenever possible.
Not because she was a “bad” baby, but because it was such a pain in the ass. I mean, the screaming, the crying, the diaper changes every 5 minutes, the wardrobe changes because of The Pretty Yellow Poop all over everything, the looking for a place to Whip Out A Tit. It was frustrating and not at all fun.
And when I am amongst the general public, IT BETTER BE FUN! (And you better BELIEVE I know how to PARTY in public.)
Thankfully, I no longer dread taking my daughter out amongst the people. Infact? I LOVE IT. I love taking my daughter places because girlfriend is hilarious.
She has this incredibly silly and awesome personality and I love to watch her around people.
She says “Hi!” to everyone who looks at her, and if that person isn’t a dick, and says “Hi!” back, she’ll smile the biggest, Goofiest, (TOOTHIEST, because, look! The teeth? They are HUGE) smile. And if you’re lucky, she’ll reach into her mouth, remove a cheerio and GIVE IT TO YOU. Because, DAMMIT,Gabby shares.
Yesterday, I decided to take her to Barnes and Noble because, girlfriend loves books. And when I say “loves” I mean “is obsessed.” We can sit for hours and read and she does not get bored. Which, is wonderful! And great! But, doesn’t she know I have clothes to fold?
Once we got there, she immediately busted out the personality and started waving, and shouting “Hi!” and smiling and giggling. Most people respond positively to her friendliness and “oohhhh” and “awww” and some people actually squat down to have a conversation with her! But some people are dicks and get annoyed because HOW DARE A CUTE BABY WITH HUGE TEETH BOTHER THEM.
I hate people like that.
Anyways.
She was in heaven at Barnes and Noble. HEAVEN, I tell you. It was so much fun watching her cruising the aisles, pointing at books, trying to get books that were out of her reach and laughing the entire time.
But then, something happened I didn’t expect.
Gabby found the stage. And she climbed up in the stage. And she looked up at the sign that said “Paws to heal, welcome!” and I am PRETTY SURE she thought it said something totally different, something like… um…perhaps… maybe…
Because, the next thing I know, girlfriend is squating, grunting and very much MAKING THE POOP for all of The People to watch!
I was slightly mortified, but mostly, proud. So proud, I clapped and said “yay!” Because, ha! ha! My daughter took a dump on the stage, people.
