12:18am, a year ago, my daughter took her very first breath.
I laid eyes on the daughter I never thought I’d have.
My husband wept as he stared at the little girl he had always dreamed of having.
At 12:18 am, after 24 hours of labor, our worlds were forever changed.
For the better.
In ways we’d never imagined.
One year ago, today, Gabriella Mercedes made her grand entrance into this world, weighing 8lbs, 5 oz and having a head full of thick, shiny, black hair that the nurses would lovingly refer to as “a wig.”
One year ago, today, I gazed into the eyes of the baby who would rip farts like no other baby girl ever born. (I HAD to mention The Farting. The Cheese was starting to choke me)
A year ago, today, I fell in love, for the third time, with a child of mine. A child who did not have a penis, who was without balls, for this child was a girl. A beautiful, amazing, soft, sweet smelling, tender, wrinkly, chunky, darling, abolutely perfect little girl.
I am humbled and I am honored to call myself her mother.
If she could read this (and she totally could if I had taken the time to teach her because, baby girl is a genius!) I would say these words to her right this very minute…Happy Birthday, Special Sauce. I’m so glad you came into my life. I needed you, I wanted you and I’ve loved you deeply for as long as I knew you existed, before I had even laid eyes on you. You’re such a beautiful girl, in so many ways. I even find your poop to be precious. THAT’S how much I love you, sweet girl. Thank you for the incredible gift of joy you have given to me, to your father, to your brothers and everyone else who has had the pleasure of knowing you for this past year. You simply are the best thing that has happened to The Four of Us. I love you. Keep on farting, because Fizarts are funny and mommy LOVES The Funny.
But not as much as I love you.
Category Archives: Raising a Daughter
How quickly the time passes and how easily I am reduced to a ball of cheese
I’m currently working on the details of Special Sauce’s first birthday party.
One year old.
In just two days my baby will be one.
Wasn’t it just yesterday that I was nothing more than a Panty sniffing, walking uterus?
Wasn’t it just yesterday that I was furiously rubbing my nipples trying to induce my labor?
(Before I continue with this post, I must interrupt to say something about that post I just linked. THAT POST is one of the reasons that I love my blog. Had it not been for this blog, I totally would have forgetten that my husband actually told weeks before I had my daughter that he wanted me to make sure I took a shower right before we left for the hospital so that his daughter would be born “out of a freshly clean twat.” How I have not yet ripped his balls from his body, I do now know. Ok, on with the post.)
Wasn’t it just yesterday I was pissing myself whilst walking at the mall trying to make the baby come out already?
The reality of a year having passed by so quickly is overwhelming me and I must warn you people. The Cheese? It is oozing from inside of me. This blog will be DRIPPING CHEESE, so if you don’t like The Cheese, or if you’re allergic to The Cheese? You might not want to visit for a while. Because it’s going to be All Cheese All The Time for a while.
I’ll never do THAT again.
I thought it would be a Really Great Idea to dress Gabby in her little bathing suit and put pigtails in her hair so she would look SO CUTE when we went to the store.
That was a bad idea.
Everyone was all “Oh my God, she’s so cute!” “Look at her! How precious!” “Aw, she’s got a bathing suit on!”
Of course, she was eating it up and flaunting The Charm.
Out of nowhere, this one dude, said, and I’m NOT EXAGGERATING, PEOPLE, “Oh my God! She looks like a little doll!” then, he walked over to me and said “May I please HOLD HER?”
Um.
Um.
Ummm.
Before I could answer, his wife walked over. “Oh, yes, can he hold her?”
Um. I should have said “What the hell is wrong with you? Of course you may not hold MY baby. You’re complete strangers and how do I know you don’t rub your ass crack and sniff it?”
But I LET HIM HOLD MY BABY.
Shh. Don’t tell Tony that because he will kick my ass and take away my “allowance”.
Of course, she started screaming and crying because “Hi! My mom never leaves me with anyone except my dad and only to go to Target so I’m really attached to her and, dude, I don’t know what you’re thinking but I don’t even let MY GRANDMA hold me!”
I immediately grabbed her away from him and walked away feeling like a Very Shitty Mother.
I know the man didn’t have bad intentions, I didn’t get those kinds of vibes at all, but WHY DID I HAND MY BABY OVER TO HIM?
I know why, because him and his wife caught me completely off guard.
And I wonder, had a little old lady asked me to hold her, would I have thought it was so damn weird that a stranger would ask to hold my baby?
The moral of this story is never take your baby girl to the store in a baby bikini. It makes people lose their damn minds.
(Ok, She asked for it…)
The Power of two teeth and squinty eyes
My daughter has learned to use her “Charm” to get what she wants.
A talent that I have never been able to master.
Perhaps it’s because I do not possess the Gift of Charm, (not to be confused with the Gift of Farting on Command, because that gift? I totally possess.)
This little girl, however, is bursting with charm.
And MAN, does she know how to work it.
Example.
She was outside watching her daddy “clean the rocks” he was going to use in the planter out front. She gradually made her way to the bucket full of water and rocks and started touching them.
“Awww” I said, “She’s helping her daddy! How cute! I MUST GO GET THE CAMERA!”
By the time I came out, she had decided she wanted to eat the rocks and bite them with the only two teeth she has.
“No! Don’t put those in your mouth, Mimi.” I said firmly.
Apparently, in baby talk, “no” means “again! do it again!” because the second Tony took one rock out of her mouth, she immediately grabbed another one and shoved it in her piehole as fast as she could.
“G-a-b-r-i-e-l-l-a-m-e-r-c-e-d-e-s, No!” I said even more firmly then the first time.
What does the girl do?
That. That’s what. Everytime we told her no.
And that’s what she does everytime we try to “discipline” (I use the term loosely) her.
Me: “No!”
Her.
Me: “Gabby! Stop!”
Her.
Me: “Biting’s not nice! Be nice!”
Her. (as she bites)
The girl is good. Really good.
Too bad for her, it’s only going to work for SO LONG on me, but her dad? She’ll have him snowed for the rest of his life. I can already tell you people that I’ll be the parent she hates because “I’m mean.” “I never let her do anything” “I always say ‘no’!” “I wrote about her farting on the internet!”
But Dad? Dad will be the hero that saved her from The Mean Mommy.
I can not WAIT to see how right I am on this one.
And we both L-O-V-E to grub
So, she has a bigger mouth (GOD HELP HER!), her head is less HUGE and not as round as mine. She has more hair and bigger eyes.
Other than that?
WE’RE TOTALLY TWINS!
(p.s. And? she’s totally pissy like me!)
A calm sleeper, she is not.
May your holiday be as Wild and Crazy as her hair.
The farts decieved me.
I often wonder what kind of a “girl” Gabby will be.
When I watch her play with her brothers, I’m convinced she’s going to be quite the Tom Boy, just like I was. She’s tough, she’s bossy and she’s very loud, which, in my opinion, all scream “TOMBOY!”
And this makes me very happy. Boys are what I know. Dirt. Rocks. Bloody knees. Poop jokes. Balls. These are the things I am familiar with, that I have come to know and love.
But yesterday, I discovered Gabby has an extremely “Girly” side.
She HATED the grass. She was like “What IS this itchy stuff touching my soft, delicate skin?”
She wanted so badly to crawl to where I was sitting, but she refused to put her hands on the ground and touch the grass.
“Stop that Gabby! It’s just grass! Stop being such a GIRL!” I begged of her.
I’m actually afraid of her turning out to be girly girl, because, I don’t know how to handle that crap!
She finally got the nerve to crawl to where I was sitting, but SHE HATED IT and spent the next 5 minutes trying to remove EVERY LITTLE PIECE OF GRASS from her body.
It’s quite possible baby boys hate grass too and that I’m making her hatred of grass into something it isn’t, but the way she whined and the faces she made had “I’m a princess who doesn’t like to get dirty because she’s too pretty to get dirty”
AND I CAN’T DEAL WITH A PRINCESS IN MY HOUSE.
Her farting skills had led me to believe she was going to be The Ultimate Tomby, but underneath all of that explosive gas, I do believe there is a Prissy Girly Girl waiting to be set free.
Pigtailed Cheese
Today I put pigtails in Gabby’s hair.
That may not be a big deal to anyone else, but to me? It was a HUGE deal.
As a young girl, I would dream of what it would be like to do my future daughter’s hair. I loved braiding hair and became quite good at it. I used to tell people “My daughter will have the most beautiful hair all of the time!”
Then, I had 2 boys. People would ask us if we were going to try for a girl. In the back of my mind, I’d think maybe, but I’d always respond with “No! We are done having kids. Besides, I don’t want t girl! They’re too much trouble. The years went by and we decided we didn’t want anymore children.
Two was MORE than enough.
Little did I know that one night, the rhythm method that I had relied on and trusted for so many years would fail us and we’d end up with the little girl I never thought I’d have.
And today, my husband held that little girl in his arms as I parted and twisted her hair. As soon as I put the first rubberband on, I felt the tears filling my eyes.
“I feel so dumb, but I’m TOTALLY CRYING!” I said to my husband.
“It’s ok. She’s your girl, she’s beautiful.”
I just stood there crying and laughing and saying “OH my GOD, she’s precious! LOOK AT HER PIGTAILS! MY DAUGHTER HAS PIGTAILS!”
Maybe that makes me a “little psycho”. A little “too emotional”, a little “too cheesy.”
But it also makes me a mother who is very much in love with the daughter she never thought she’d have and how those silly little pigtails reminded this woman of her childhood dreams of a little girl with pigtails, and how that dream came true when she least expected it.
I’m pretty sure this is her way of telling me… “HELLO? I’M TOO BIG FOR THIS STUPID BABY TUB, WOMAN!”
**Cute baby butt coverup courtesy of Mommy’s Amazing Paint Skillz.
My Treasure
My daughter.
Your beauty takes my breath away.
Your smile humbles me.
Your laughter heals my aching heart.
Your hand, when it touches mine, melts away the hardness of my heart.
Your kisses sweeten the bitterness within.
Your tears are raindrops to my wilted soul, softening me with each drop that falls.
Your existence is proof that there is a God, that He loves me, and that He knows me better than I know myself.
You, my sweet Gabriella, are my saving grace.
I love you.