Category Archives: Raising a Daughter

OMG! DUCKS!

Inspired by my artistic rendition of a duck, I decided to take Gabby to the park to feed the ducks.

One thing you need to know is I am the type of person who afraid of breaking rules (because I do not want to rot in jail, nor do I want to burn in hell.) I tell you this because there are signs that kindly ask you NOT to feed the ducks, listing such reasons as “feeding the ducks will make them lazy!” After seeing that there were Do Not Feed The Ducks! signs, I became a little bit fearful of getting in trouble, so as we were walking to the pond I hid the baggie which contained 2 pieces of bread on the inside of my shirt. I’m not sure who exactly what or who I was afraid of– they do not have guards watching over the pond. But you just never know. It’s entirely possible that there there are people posing as “private citizens” moseying near the pond, waiting to catch the duck feeding rule breakers!

We arrived at the pond without having been caught with our bag o’bread, and I continued to pretend as if we were only there to observe the pretty ducks and not to feed them. I looked around to make sure there weren’t any men in city uniforms around before I carefully took the bag of bread out from underneath my shirt.

Once I had determined the coast was clear, I reached inside of my shirt, whipped out the bread and starting rolling them into little balls so that Gabby could throw them to the ducks.
She threw her first little bread ball and 2 of the ducks who were close by swam up to eat the bread. Gabby went crazy, she started jumping up and down and squealing. “Duckies eat bread, mama! Duckies eating!” I don’t feed the ducks often, so I forgot that when you feed them, they get all loud and start communicating with the other ducks. The two ducks closest to us were all “quack, quack! The Humans have brought bread, come and get it while it’s fresh!” Within a matter of seconds, two ducks turned into ten ducks. Then, ten ducks turned into what seemed like hundreds of ducks. They were all quacking in what I perceived to be a very aggressive manner.

I was trying to remain calm, because, seriously, they’re just ducks! However, I was a little terrified on the inside because I wasn’t supposed to be feeding them and there they were, making it TOTALLY OBVIOUS that we were feeding them. Someone really needs to talk to the ducks about that. If they would like The Humans to continue to feed them illegally, they really need to learn how to keep it on the down low.

Stupid ducks.

At one point, one of the ducks got tired of fighting for the bread and just jumped out of the water, unto the sidewalk and right up to me and Gabby. “WHOA, there, little buddy! Get back into the water please.” (I actually said that. Out loud. And I meant it.) I had never seen a duck do that before and it kinda freaked me out. Do the ducks not fear The Humans? Apparently, they do not. All of a sudden, one by one, the ducks started hoping out of the water and walking right up to me and Gabby. The scary thing was (haha, I said “scary” while speaking of “ducks”) that they were looking right at the bag in my hand as they were walking directly towards me. I swear I heard one of them say “You better have enough for all of us, bitch!”

I jumped up, grabbed my daughter and um, kind of started to run away, but in that way where one is trying to play it off as if they’re not terrified of getting killed by a gang of ducks. You know what I mean? I was trying to be all “Ok! We’re leaving because we are totally done feeding the ducks! No, seriously! We’re not afraid of the ducks at all! How lame would that be? HAHA!” Apparently, I am a bad at pretending not to be scared because two girls who were close by started laughing and one of them was all “Look! That girl is afraid of the ducks!”

There was nothing I could do at that point, except to turn around and admit my fear to the women who were so openly mocking me. “Did you see that? I got so scared, all of those ducks coming at me, I was afraid they were going to bite my daughter.”

(Think of The Children! THE CHILLLLDREEENNNN.)

I was pretty shook up as we walked away from the pond. I realize how stupid that must sound, since I am talking about DUCKS. Not alligators. Not Tigers. DUCKS!! But, I had no idea ducks were so aggressive and unafraid of humans. I so did not expect them to hop out of the water and get all up in my grill like that.

Effing ducks, man.

Prissay

I’ve been taking G-Unit to the park everyday after I drop the boys off at school. I go for a walk, do some squats, throw in a few totally awesome kick boxing moves and then we head for the playground for some fun on the slides and swings.
I love watching my daughter play with the other children. She’s so… girlie. I didn’t expect that from a daughter of mine. I’ve never been very “girlie” or “feminine”. In fact, my husband used to do this cute little thing where he’d introduce me to his friends as “My Wife, The Trucker.” I guess I always imagined that if I had a daughter, she’d be just like me! Man, was I wrong.
And I’m happy I was wrong. I can’t tell you how much fun it is to watch my daughter stand on the sidewalk, her tiara placed proudly atop her head, hands placed sweetly on her hips, twirling from side to side while she shouts to the neighbors “Look! I pretty! Look! Lala’s pretty!”
(My daughter wears a tiara! And she likes it. Doesn’t she know that her mommy hates tiaras?)
Sometimes, her “Girlie-ness” can be very annoying. Like when she cries because her nail polish is chipped, (“More polish mommy! MORE POLISH! WAH!”) or when she has a meltdown because I refuse to let her play with the lipstick that she snuck out of my purse. But most of the time, watching her act “like a girl” is the most fulfilling experience of my life. Especially when she emerges from her bedroom, wearing nothing but a tutu and her tap shoes whilst twirling with her hands in the air singing her ABC’s.
Through her, I’m finding out that being “girlie” (“feminine” whatever.) can be fun. I’m starting to like the idea of painting my nails “just because” and not only when I have a wedding to attend. That said, I will NEVER like tiaras. (Nor, will I ever give up burping contests or farting whenever the hell I want to.)

Love Thursday : My little teacher

Although my daughter is two years old, there are still moments in which I am overwhelmed by the reality that I actually have a daughter.

Watching her walk around topless, covered in Elmo band aids and wearing a pink tutu this afternoon was one of those moments.

I watch her prance around in her tutu, shoeless, shirtless, messy hair and I wonder what it must feel like to be so carefree, so innocent, so completely free to be who she is.
And I start to cry. Because I know that life isn’t always going to be like this for her. She’ll go through hard times, people will hurt her. She’ll experience pain. I know that one day, she’ll become aware of her body and how it compares to the bodies of other girls. Maybe she’ll hate it, just like I did, like I still do. I hope that she doesn’t, I hope that I can teach her from my mistakes, that I can be honest with her about my experience and that from me, she’ll learn that it’s a waste of time, energy and of your life to hate your body. I will teach her to love herself, to be proud of herself, to take care of her body and always be kind to it. To never waste a second hating it, for it is the vehicle in which she can do and accomplish whatever it is that she so desires in her life. The one and only life that she’ll ever have.
As I watched my precious daughter twirling around in her pink tutu,
I wished someone had taught me those things when I was growing up. I wished that someone had sat me down when I was starving myself and told me that I didn’t need to do that because I was beautiful the way that I was. I wish my mother would have told me that I mattered too much to the world to inflict abuse upon myself.

In that moment I realized that the words that I needed to hear my entire life had just been spoken to me through my beautiful daughter.
And in that moment, I realized, although I am her mother and it is my job to teach her about life, she is my teacher as well.
“Love yourself mom, because a little bit of you lives in me.”
And I used to say that I didn’t want a girl. God, I had no idea what I was missing without her in my life.

Her shirt don’t lie

My sister bought G-Unit that shirt for her birthday. If you ask her “Who’s loca?”

She’ll point to her chest and say with a pretty lil’ grin “Lala’s Loo-ka.”
Except for today. For TODAY when I asked her “who’s loca?” she threw herself back and screamed “Noooooo, mommy. DON’T DO THAT!” (And by “that” she meant “take another picture.”)
Oh, how I laughed because, “haha, she’s wearing a shirt that says LOCA and she’s acting all LOCA. That’s wild and LOCA!” But looking at the pictures “funny” isn’t the first thing that comes to mind. “Someone needs a flippin’ nap” sure does, though.

Love. (And also? The Return of The Cheese&trade)

I had accepted that I’d never be a mother to a daughter. I had two beautiful boys whom I cherised. I was content and happy with them in my life.
I had never imagined I’d find myself unexpectedly pregnant 7 years after what I had declared “The Last Baby I Will Ever Have.”
I certainly didn’t imagine that baby would be a girl.
And that she’d actually like me. Love me, even.
My daughter.

I never imagined that my boys–my sweet, kind, radiant little boys– would have a little sister.

A sister that they would look after, that they would take precious care of and whom they would love deeply.

I never imagined the day that my husband would one day hold in his arms a perfect little girl, with ivory skin and jet black hair while saying things like “How did we ever live without her?”

And that one day, I’d watch in amazement as she wrapped her tiny little hand around his finger.

Knowing the truth was that darling girl had the heart of the man whose hand she’s holding and the hearts of this entire family wrapped around her sweet little finger.
*This post brought to you by Love Thursday.

You can go ahead and call me “Raffi.”

That right there is my daughter.
She’s a beautiful little girl. And my GOD, she’s funny. Hilarious, even.
She’s also polite. She says “thank you” and “please” and if you sneeze or burp? She says “bless you.” She’ll also bring you a tissue if you cry, and she’ll wipe your nose for you whilst saying “Ohhhh, don’t cwry.”
All together now. Awwwwwww
As sweet and beautiful and funny and amazing as she is, I have to say that THAT little girl right there, is by far the most difficult child to have ever come out of my glorious vagina.
(Yeah. I just called It “Glorious.” At least I didn’t call it “Notorious” OMG! THE NOTORIOUS V-A-G.”)
Keeping anything on her is a challenge. Clothes. Diapers. Hair clips. Earrings. They all come off eventually. No matter how much duct tape is used, no matter how many times I say in a very calm voice (HONEST!) “We don’t take our shirts off, we leave our shirts on!”
The diaper staying on during nap/sleep time had become a horrific struggle. We would tape that shit on, but it only took her a couple of days to figure out how to take the tape off. No matter how many times we wrapped it around. Luckily, I found a pair of shorts with a string around the waist and if I quadruple knot it, she can’t get it off. So, guess what she sleeps in every time she goes to sleep? No lie, my daughter sleeps in the same shorts every nap time, every night time. I take them off in the morning, put them back on at nap time, take them off after nap time, and put them on again at night time.
She’s always been a great sleeper, from the time she was 4 weeks old. She sleeps 10-12 hours a night and still takes 2 one hour + naps a day. You’ll never hear me complain about sleep.
HOWEVER. Getting her to fall asleep the past few days/nights have been hell. You see, little Miss Thang has to have quite a few stuffed animals/plastic figurines/blankets in order to go to sleep. The last count went as follows.
2 duckies
3 bears
1 Ernie figurine
1 cookie monster figurine
1 Elmo figurine
1 fish
2 dolls
1 pillow
1 “favorite” blankie
and 1 spray of mommy’s perfume on her arm to sniff herself to sleep.
If she does not have each and everyone of those things in her crib before bed time, she will NOT go to sleep. Well, guess what little Miss Thang just figured out?
If she throws all of the things out of her crib AND strips the sheet off of the crib, mommy, daddy or the brother’s will have to come into her room to replace all of the items and if mommy, daddy or the brothers do NOT come into to replace all of the items that SHE THREW OUT, she will scream at the top of her lungs. For as long as it takes for one of the four of us to cave.
Lather, rinse, repeat, so to speak. Twenty times over.
Ah, power struggles!
(Funny TRUE story! I was writing this while my daughter was supposedly taking a nap. All of a sudden, there was a call for help coming from her room. “MOM! Pee!” I ran to the room to find her diaper tossed to the side of the crib, but her shorts were still on. She was sitting in a puddle of pee. OMG! She just now figured out how to remove her diaper without taking her shorts off. It’s like she has ESP and knew I was writing about the shorts and was all “Ha! HAA! Even the shorts can not stop me from taking my diaper off, silly mommy!” AWESOME!)
(Another funny and TRUE story. After I cleaned up the mess in her crib, washed her and changed her, I put her in her high chair to eat lunch. I made her a sandwich, and asked her brother to watch her so I could finish writing this. Just now, I heard my son scream “NO, GABBY! YOU DON’T DO THAT! THAT’S BAD!” I ran over to see what she had done. She had taken her sandwich apart and thrown it all over the kitchen! OMG. SOMEONE HELP US.)
Getting things done around here isn’t easy because not only does she love to strip, but she loves to climb on things! And take things out of drawers! And color! And did I mention CLIMB ON THINGS? Things like “the kitchen table” “her changing table” “my computer desk” and “the inside of the entertainment center.”
I can honestly say that my boys were never this difficult. Andrew was the perfect child. Never threw tantrums, always obeyed me, never screamed or yelled. He was pure joy and sunshine. Ethan was a bit more of a handful. He would throw tantrums and was extremely active, but his “activeness” doesn’t even compare to that of his little sister.
Sometimes I feel overwhelmed. Sometimes I get angry. (Like the time I was on the phone with a friend and I was trying to load the dishwasher for the 25th time and Gabby refused to stop taking the dirty dishes that I had just put in out and I YELLED AT HER and then felt like an asshole because I had just yelled at a 2 year old and um, someone heard me do it.) Other times, I use humor to get through the day. And then there are days, like today, where I have thoughts of opening the back door, gently pushing her through the door, locking it behind me and letting her have a few quality hours out there alone with dog.
But instead of doing something stupid like that, I give the housework The Fingah, take a deep breath, sit down with my darling daughter and teach her songs about how special she really is.
Because I’m a good mommy.

Two.

I couldn’t wait for Gabriella to wake up this morning. I wanted to take her picture first thing in the morning to capture exactly what she looked like on the morning of her second birthday.
Finally, at 8:30, I heard her sweet little voice. “Hi, mom.”
I jumped up, grabbed my camera and ran to her room.
“Goodmorning, Birthday Girl!”

That’s what she looked like the morning of the day that she turned two years old.
Two years.

And that is what she looked like as she tried so very hard to sing “Happy Birthday” along with me. You see, I started singing Happy Birthday to her a couple of weeks ago, because I wanted her to be able to sing it with everyone at her birthday party. I had high hopes that she’d learn by the time her party rolls around, but after hearing her sing it this morning, I’d say there’s still work to do. However, I have to say, not bad, G-Unit. Not bad at all.
Has it really been a year since I wrote her Happy First Birthday post? I find that hard to believe.
There are moments with her where it feels as though time freezes and the earth stops spinning as I watch her do something incredibly sweet. Like the other day, when I was leaving to go to Starbucks and as I was walking to the car, I heard her scream “MOMMY! MOMMY!” I turned around and saw her standing there wearing nothing but a diaper and a purse hanging from the same arm I carry my purse on.
“You want to go with mommy?” I asked.
She nodded her head. “Yes!”
“Ok, you can come with mommy.”
She squeeled as I lifted her into the air and as I held her close to me, I started to cry.
There in my arms, I held this beautiful little girl who looks up to me, who wants nothing more than to be just like me, and to be with me. Time stood still as I held my daughter close to me and revelled in the beauty of that moment.
But then, there are moments where it feels as though it’s all happening to fast. I wish I could stop time or at least make it slow down just a little bit.

When I found out that the unexpected third baby that was growing inside of me was a little girl, I felt overcome with fear. Fear of the unknown. Fear of raising a daughter that wouldn’t hate me. I honestly believed that I could not mother a girl. I believved that with every fiber of my being.
I never would have imagined that I’d be the first one she’d call for in the morning, that I’d be the one she’d choose to be close to all day long, that I’d be the last one she’d want to kiss at night.
I never could have imagined that when I’d pick her up, she’d stroke my hair and say “Oh, mommy, I yuv you.” I never thought that she’d want to be like me, that she’d look up to me and mimic the little things I do.
You know, the girl is such a drama queen, with her tantrums and her screaming and her CLIMBING ON THE KITCHEN TABLE FIVE SECONDS AFTER I TELL HER NOT TO, but I can say in all honesty that my daughter is a beautiful, affectionate, loving, hilarious, polite little human being and whom I am extremely proud of.
Especially when she farts on command, because you’ve not lived until you’ve seen a precious little girl with pigtails grunt and turn purple from trying to push one out.
THAT’S MA’ GIRL.
I’ll never, for as long as I live, forget the very first moment I saw her. She had a head full of thick black hair, her face was scrunched up and she had the biggest mouth I had ever seen on a baby.
“She’s beautiful. When can I hold her? I want to hold her.”
It seemed like an eternity while the nurses checked her and got her ready for me. I couldn’t take it. I kept asking for my girl. “I want to hold her, please, give her to me.”
Finally, the moment they placed her in my arms, everything was right with the world. I instantly felt connected to her, I instantly loved her and didn’t understand how I had lived a day without her.

I still carry those feelings for her in my heart and soul two years later, only they are magnified a thousand times.
I love her. My God, I love her. And the greatest part about loving her? Is the way that she loves me right back.

Happy Birthday, Gabriella Mercedes.

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My Daughter. The Day Before “Two.”

My love for her is growing in leap and in bounds.
With each new word she utters. With each kiss she places on my cheek. With each smile she sends my way. With each giggle. With each time she takes my hand so we can walk together. With every tear she cries. With every “please” and “thank you”.
With each day that passes, my love for her multiplies a thousand times over again.
I love her.
I love her.
I love her.

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A letter from The Boss.

Dear Internet,
I know you’re probably mad at my mommy for not answering your emails or leaving comments on your blog, but honestly? It’s not her fault.
I like to get into her things, especially her perfume and make up. Yesterday, I found her brand new bronzing powder and OMG! I went CERAZY with it because all of the pretty people are orange.
You think it looked beautiful on me? Well, you should have seen how AWESOME the sofa looked. And the carpet? It was so sparkly and shiny!
Daddy tells mommy that she should put her stuff away so that I can’t get into it, but daddy forgets that I know how to climb and how to make steps if I can’t reach things that I want. (Word to any toddlers out there listening: Plastic storage boxes make awesome steps! You can thank me the next time you’re able to reach your mommy’s makeup bag and you are able to make your face and the carpet shiny and orange like me!)
Anyways, mommy really wants to tell you about last night (something about having so much fun last night with some dude named Jay Mohr, I don’t know, I was pooping when she was telling daddy about it.) but, you know, there is makeup she must protect from my little hands, so you’ll have to wait until I crash for the night.
Peace out.
-G Unit.

!!!!!!!)%(%*%##!!!!! and also, shit.

Spending time on the computer isn’t something I’m able to do much anymore. The reason?

With each passing minute, she is learning new things, discovering more ways to get into trouble, figuring out that she can “refuse” to do things, and so on and so forth.
In the past 2 weeks, she has learned the following
-How to climb out of her crib, but more like, “flip out, land on her back and get the wind knocked out of her”, which I suppose is better than “land on her neck and paralyze herself,” but, still.
-How to climb up onto her changing table and turn her fan on and off.
-How to climb onto the kitchen table and “jump up and down” on it.
-How to climb onto my bed.
-How to do summersaults.
-How to turn on the stereo and crank it on full blast.
-How to open doors
-That she doesn’t HAVE to take two naps. NO, one is good enough, thank you very much.
Combine that with all of the Mad Toddler Skillz she already possessed, (like peeling the border off of her wall instead of taking a nap, taking her bedding off of her mattress everytime that I lay her down, taking her diaper off no matter how many times I duct tape it, throwing herself on the floor whilst screaming bloody murder when she doesn’t get something that she wants.) and life as I knew it is PRETTY MUCH OVER.
Also? My computer is being a little bitch and I’m sure it’s because she’s old and about to die, but something that should take me 30 seconds, takes MINUTES and minutes are precious when all that you have are 30 of them to get something done on here.
I’ve been trying to write about The Wedding for 2 days now and I just can’t seem to finish it. I mean, I know you’re all dying to read it, you just have to believe that I’m working on it.
I feel guilty because I’ve not been visiting other bloggers NOR have I been answering my emails. That’s shitty of me, and I am sorry. I just hope that you know it’s not for any other reason except…

My “computer time” is not the only thing that’s been taken from me. So has my “do the laundry” time and “Load the dishwasher” time and “scrub the tub” time and “sit down to watch a little Maury” time because girlfriend be gettin’ into trouble every minute of every day and I.Can.Not.Accomplish.Anything.Including.Taking.A.Dump. AAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH.
I’m actually thinking of taking her to a friends house (who runs a daycare) one day a week. NOT so that I can spend time on the computer (lieeeeess) but so that I can have ONE DAY to myself, to get work done, to write, so answer email, TO TAKE A MOTHERFUCKING DUMP IN PEACE.
Anyways.
I’m off to see a show at The Improv with Jay Mohr. I just wanted to let you know what was going on in my crazy and yet totally average and boring life.