Category Archives: Raising a Daughter

If only she had taken a bow

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.

Take your pink and SHOVE IT



My daughter is an extremely happy child. She is also a child who is easily pissed off. Basically, she is a Drama Queen, prone to The Dramatics all day long about everything and anything.
“Hmmm, I wonder where she gets it from?”
That’s what my husband (AND HIS MOTHER) love to say at every chance they get.
Seriously. According to my mother in law, every “bad” trait my children have, comes from me. (pissy, moody, stubborn, irresponsible) Every wonderful and great trait comes from her perfect son. And in all fairness, it is not just my mother in law who thinks this way (and says it, OUTLOUD). My own MOTHER believes it.
Because Tony is “Perfect” and I’m “lucky he’s put up with me for all of these years.”
But, that’s not really what this is about.
This is about my DramaQueen daughter and The Pink Boots I thought she would LOVE!
Having believed I’d never have a daughter, that I’d only be the mother to boys, imagine the excitement I felt when I saw a pair of pink boots at Mervyns, in my daughter’s size, ON CLEARANCE.
“She will love these!” I thought. “And she will squeel with excitment as I zip them on her precious feet, and I will pick her up, twirl her around and sing a song about her pretty she looks in her pink boots and then, she will proudly walk around the house, showing them off to everyone!”
Um. Yeah. Riiiiiiight.
I put them on. She tried to stand up, but didn’t like the way they felt on her feet. I think the little heel bugged her. SO, she stood there in a “I am taking a dump” position and REFUSED to move.

I begged her to move. “Come on, sweetie, let’s go show daddy how pretty you look!”
She got on her hands and knees and crawled underneath the sofa table and once again, refused to move.

At this point, I realized my “Pink Boot Fantasy” had just went to hell and there would be no squeels of joy, there would be no twirling around the house nor would there be songs of pretty boots.
Instead, there would be DRAMATICS

AND CRYING

AND ATTEMPTED SCRATCHING OF FACES

Totally not what I had thought her First Pink Boot experience would be like, but, with her temper and tendancy towards making a HUGE ASS DEAL OUT OF EVERYTHING (Again, I wonder where she gets THAT from?), I should have known it would turn out that way.
God, I love her. And, I love those pink boots that will never be worn again. Ever.
We’ve already decided they’re going in a “shadow box” along with those pictures and will be put proudly on display in her bedroom. And it will be titled “Shattered dreams.”

BOBS

The thing about judging other people for choices they make that are not like choices YOU make is this…
You never know when you might end up making that same choice, the one you SWORE YOU WOULD NEVER MAKE because you’re so great and superior.
Let me give you an example.
I had a friend who had a baby 3 months before I had my first. We both breastfed our babies, but I had to stop breastfeeding my baby at around 6 months because I developed a kidney infection and had to go on strong medications.
My friend continued to breastfeed her baby throughout her first year, then into the second year. I went to visit her one afternoon and the baby was now “2”. As we sat on the couch talking, her daughter crawled up onto her lap, lifted up her shirt and said “I WANT EAT…NOW!”
Whoa. I was all “you’re STILL breastfeeding? The HELL?” She seemed somewhat ashamed and said “I don’t know how to stop. She cries so hard, so I give in.”
“Well, I’ll NEVER let my children breastfeed to the point that they are asking for it by name! NEVAH!”
I meant it at the time, man.
Let’s talk about what just happened in my house 15 minutes ago.
My 15 month old daughter sits on my lap, pulls up my shirt and says “BOBS BOBS BOBS BOBS.”
And I give her The Bobs.
If I had never judged my friend (or my cousin, because, when I found out she was still breastfeeding her two year old, I said “she’s doing it FOR HER! BECAUSE SHE DOESN’T WANT TO GIVE IT UP! She’s not doing it for the baby, she’s DOING IT FOR HHHHHERRRRRRRSELFFFF.”) then I wouldn’t be so ashamed to admit that “I have a 15 month old daughter who crawls on my lap and asks for The Bobs and who still gets The Bobs when she asks for it.”
People aren’t happy that I still breastfeed Gabby. In the past week I’ve had THREE people tell me that I need to “Stop. Now. COLD TURKEY. JUST STOP IT ALREADY.” I hang my head in shame and nod in agreement. “I know, I know…” (because, remember, those people sound JUST LIKE I DID before I become one of “those mothers”.)
I want to tell these people to mind their own damn business, I want to tell them things like “DON’T JUDGE ME.” Or “But, she’s my last baby and it’s really hard on me emotionally and I’m not sure I’m ready to give it up yet.”
But how can I say those things when I WAS one of those people? When I have judged people for doing the same thing I am doing?
I’m feeling very conflicted about this issue now. How old IS too old to breastfeed? And what if your motives for continuing to do it are because of YOUR feelings? Does that make it “wrong” or “inappropriate”? Does that mean I should “Put that tit away NOW?”
Everytime someone finds out that I’m still breastfeeding, I feel like I have to justify it. “Well, I only nurse her in the morning and at night. It’s not like she’s downing the tittymilk all the time.”
The truth is, I’m still breastfeeding her partly out of laziness. Do you know how awesome it is for me to have that option available when The Girl wakes up at 4am? I can whip out The Bobs, lay her next to me and go back to sleep! I’m not ready to give that up yet. Also? I love that time with her and knowing she’s my last baby, I’m having a hard time “letting go”.
What I really want to know though is THIS…
Why is it ANYONE’S BUSINESS how long a woman breastfeeds her baby?
Why did I think it was ok to tell my friend to knock that shit off already? Why did my neighbor think it was ok to tell me that I needed to “Just stop cold turkey NOW.”? I could understand if Gabby was 5 and I was stopping by school on her lunch hour at kindergarten to let her partake of some “Bob” goodness, but she’s NOT EVEN TWO YET.
I wish I had never judged my friend, or my cousin for their choice to breastfeed for longer than a year. Or, at least, I wish I would have kept those judgements to myself. Because now, a decision that should be totally personal and without regard to what ANYONE ELSE THINKS is tainted with feelings of guilt and shame.
(edited to add: I do not feel shame about the fact that I’m still breastfeeding, but because it’s hard for me to tell people to SUCK IT when they get in my face about it because of the fact I had been judgemental of other women in the past. Live and learn, people.)

Baby Drama


When pretty butterflies get pissed.
That girl, she’s such a dramaqueen. It’s hilarious, and at the same time, NOT hilarious. I wanted to get a few pictures of her in her beautiful costume and by the 3rd photo, she was shaking her finger at me, throwing herself back, trying to rip the flowers off of her head, whilst screaming and crying. I tried EVERYTHING I could think of to make her stop crying and smile for mama, but, she was not having it.
Tony’s favorite thing to say is “I WONDER where she gets it from!?”
My favorite response is “from yo’ mama.” Because being mature is the only way I know how to be.
Just think of the fun I will be having on halloween night, people!
I can hardly wait.

LIFE WITH KIDS IS AWESOME AND THANKS ALOT G-UNIT.

You know how I said “I have an ultrasound today at 10:40”?
Scratch that.
GABBY LOST MY FREAKING KEYS.

Like, how can I get mad at THAT FACE? And, yet, part of me wants to chuck her out the back door and lock her out for making me cry and panic and say very bad words whilst throwing things and sweating because I’m running everywhere looking for my keys (which, by the way, I STILL HAVEN’T FOUND.) and for LAUGHING AT ME while I was doing all of those things.
So, no ultrasound for me today.

The one where I don’t know how to end it because I could go on for HOURS about how The Teeth have turned her into The Debil

G-Unit FINALLY grew her upper teeth. And it’s weird, because e’rr since she got those teeth? She’s become violent.
You can see it in her smile. Look.

Her once toothless, sweet, innocent smile has been replaced with “yeah, I’m cute, but I’M ALSO PART GREMLIN AND WILL BITE YOUR FACE.”
I have scratches all over my cheeks from where she has DUG HER NAILS in my face when she gets pissed off.
And when I tell her “No!”?
She shakes her finger at me and screams “NONONONE!”
Oh, how she LOVES to Shake that finger.
And Scratch faces.
clench her fists whilst grunting in anger.
And stretch out and rip off all of her shirts in a fit of ‘GET ME OUT OF THIS CHAIR ALREADY BECAUSE I HAVE FACES TO SCRATCH!
I still love her like crazy, but she’s scaring me a little bit.
Not only because she’s taking a liking to inflicting pain and shaking her finger at me all day long, but? Because the girl has 29385985 toys, right?

(Which, by the way, have taken over my entire house. See those drawers? They were once filled with CD’S. Now? TOYS. And then there’s the basket of toys in my room and in her room…)
See all of the toys? You think she’d want to sit down with mommy and play with them! but does she? OF COURSE SHE DOESN’T!
She wants to “rooooooom roooooooom”, which, is G-Unit talk for “take me outside right now, open up the van and sit me ON THE STEERING WHEEL and turn it side to side whilst saying “vrrrooooom vrooooom”!
The HELL?
I thought having a girl meant we’d be playing with dolls and cuddling with stuffed animals? NOT RIDING ON STEERING WHEELS AND SCRATCHING EYEBALLS OUT.
Call me “crazy”, but I blame The HUGE upper teeth, because I swear to The Lord that this “personality change” took place the day those suckers broke through the gums.

Love cheese


Sigh. My girl. She is so incredibly beautiful. So genuinely happy. So warm and affectionate. So absolutely perfect.
I feel overwhelmed by her presence.
I hold in my arms this perfectly amazing little girl. She reaches up, puts my face in her hands, looks into my eyes and smiles. Then, she’ll kiss me sweetly and say, in her tender little voice, “I yaya (I love you)”. At that moment, I feel humbled, I feel grateful, I feel so incredibly lucky to be her mother and I have to ask myself “Why was God so kind to me?”
cheese cheese cheese cheese cheese cheese cheese cheese.
There are moments where I just want to BITE HER ALL OVER because she’s just that cute and I love her that much. Instead, I’ll take her little hand in mine, kiss it and say “One day I hope you can understand the depths of my love for you little girl.”
And then I bite her just a little bit because if I don’t? I’ll go crazy.
I made up a little song for her and I sing it to her everytime I hold her. As I begin to sing it, her big, brown eyes light up and she’ll start clapping. She’ll giggle a little, then, she’ll begin hum along while smiling at me through the entire song. As I watch how happy that silly little song makes her, I feel so proud. You people would laugh if you heard the song, it’s, well, silly, but SHE LOVES IT. My daughter thinks it’s great and that? I can’t even explain how great it feels.
The name of this blog says it all Unexpected Joy. That’s what she is, my Unexpected Joy. Or, as Ben likes to say “The Joy of Unexpected Cheese” because, MAN, that girl “made me go soft”. Thank God she farts like a grown man because that really helps balance this whole “Cheese” business out.
Balance is good.
(p.s. Speaking of Her Farts..the girl has learned how to “Fart on Command”. Seriously, I say “FART, GABBY! and she grunts, turns red and “pfffffffft” she goes. Awesome)

Late night cheese.

I wonder what it feels like for my daughter to be in the arms of a man who loves her the way that man loves her.
Does she have any idea how deeply her father loves her? Does she know that she’s the one responsible for the never ending smile on his face? Can she feel the love and care in the large, strong, aged hands that hold her ever so close?
Perhaps she has no clue just yet. But I do. I know. I feel the love. I see the smile. I understand how deeply he cares. And it touches me. It makes me weep. It makes me proud and confident because I have no doubts that little girl is going to be a secure, loving, strong woman because of the man who holds her close.
She will never want for anything. . Love will never be in short supply, but will overflow in every aspect of her life. When she falls, he will be there in an instant to pick her up, wipe away the tears and help her to stand on her own again.
When I look at that picture, tears fill my eyes and yet, at the same time, pride feels my heart because I realize that I am blessed beyond measure, for my little girl has her daddy’s heart in the palm of her hand and what a beautiful heart it is, what a precious little hand that holds it and how lucky they both are.

Because life is so damn hard when someone has to wipe your ass FOR you.


This is what I’m busy dealing with and the reason why I can not compose a decent post.
The girl had gone completely MOODY on me.
She has a vagina, so it was BOUND to happen, but GOOD GOD, baby girl. It’s just lunch, no need for all of the drama!

Funniest part is one minute she’s pissed, the next, she’s hugging and kissing me, telling me “I wah wah” (I love in in “Gabby”.) One minutes she’s cuddling with her lambie, the next she’s biting it and growling at it.
GROWLING! My daughter growls!
Oh, the drama! I can’t even stand it. And I can’t even begin to imagine what is in store in the coming years, especially the years in which SHE GETS HER PERIOD AND CRIES ABOUT EVERYTHING AND ANYTHING AND SLAMS DOORS AND THREATENS TO NEVER EAT AGAIN BECAUSE SHE HATES ME FOR BEING SUCH A HORRIBLE MOTHER!
It’s a good thing that girl is so damn cute and that it’s almost impossible to get mad at her because of her dimples and the fact that she is ONE YEAR OLD AND ONLY HAS TWO TEETH! I mean, I’d be tempted to throw her out back with Willie and Asshole dog were it not for her incredible cuteness. THE MOODY IS TOO MUCH TO DEAL WITH, PEOPLE.