I have moved

I finally went and made a wordpress blog. So go there.

Say cheese!


So Smooshy.


A bonus bath day

**Baby poop alert.**

Holy Crap. Literally. I kinda thought I had this whole diapering thing down after the almost 3 months of constant diapering. I guess I was wrong. Who knew it could defy gravity like that? NASA has got to start studying this stuff.

It sounded like a normal baby poop. I waited a little bit to make sure she was finished. Then I laid her on the changing mat. All normal so far. Then I noticed something on her onesie near her belly button. I unsnapped and OMG. It had all come up the front. All up out of the diaper and somehow down her leg. There was a lot and it was gross.

After staring for a little bit wondering exactly where to start, I grabbed a wipe. I figured I'd get the biggest mess on first. One swipe and that wipe was out of commission. So I grabbed another and another and another. I put them in the diaper once they were used. Then Eliana's hand got all in the mess. So I wiped that off before she stuck it in her mouth (if she had, I would have thrown up right there) and moved the diaper. I kinda moved it around her head, but a wipe full of nasty poop fell out and now she had poop in her hair. Of course. By this time I knew I was in over my head. I needed an extra set of hands. I'm kinda thinking Amalah had the right idea for a superpower. I wiped as much as I could (no where near all of it) and started looking around for a diaper disposal option. There was no way I could wrap it up all nice and neat and get it in the diaper pail. I needed a plastic bag. Those were in the kitchen. I had to run to get one, screaming "Don't roll over! Don't roll over!" the entire way. She obliged.

I get back and dispose of the nastiness. I knew she needed a bath. There is no wipe in the world that was gonna be able to get poop out of her hair. I picked her up facing out (I had thoroughly cleaned the poop off the back part, so it didn't get on me) and we headed to the kitchen (where the baby tub lives). I had to position the tub over the sink, under the faucet, making sure it wouldn't fall in the other side. No easy feat when you're doing it one-handed. I managed and was pretty proud of myself. I filled it, checked the temperature and plopped her in. I figured the worst was over. We did the normal washing stuff and I got all the nastiness off of her. When I went to lean her forward to wash her back, she decided she didn't want to. So I took my hand off the front of her. She changed her mind about the leaning, so she plowed herself in the side of the tub. Then the crying started. I moved her back and she started crying. So I'm trying to get the poop out of her hair while she's screaming at me and I'm trying to soothe her and AAAHHHH! Ugh. We managed. I had to get a towel. When she gets her bath at night, Tony brings the towel and I pick up the wet wiggly baby and hand her to him. It's our thing. This time I had to figure out how to hold the towel, get her out and wrap her up by myself. For the record, yes, I had to leave her, but I didn't even leave the room, there was barely any water in the tub and I watched her the whole 3 seconds it took to get the towel. I managed to lean back letting gravity hold the towel against me while I picked her up and didn't drop her and got all wet in the process but we were done. I dried her off (she's still screaming cuz she's cold), put on a clean diaper and dry clothes and we were done.

Right then Tony walked in the door. I wanted to kill him for his lucky timing. Not fair. And remembering all that to write it out has made me very, very tired.

Mommy-hood is gross.


I am so not wearing the tights

Since Tony's in the Navy, I always thought it would be great to be able to teleport. I figured whenever he was deployed, I could pop into whatever port he was at or even just pop into his rack at night (although that would be a thing since have you seen the size of a rack? I mean, c'mon.). Granted this was pre-mommyhood, so it wouldn't be as easy now. It'd still rock though.

I wouldn't have to fear "I hate my car seat days". (These are my biggest annoyances since I can't let her cry and if you're in the middle of rush hour traffic and the car seat time limit expires badbadbadbadbad. Because she has this cry that she knows makes me want to cut my own heart out and theres nothing I can do about it. I would lovelovelove to avoid those.)

And I could teleport to Guam and eat at King's. That would kick ass. I could get all sorts of culture (food) from every place I miss. Like Krystals. And waffle house. And Red Robin. Am hungry now.

I mentioned here that I always feel like I miss out on family stuff. If I could teleport, I wouldn't have to miss anything. Thursday night dinners at Mom's? No problem. Step-mom bugging me to visit again? (Ok, not as much fun but you get it) Fine. It's faster and cheaper than flying. I could visit all the places I've wanted to see with out 15 hour plane flights with a baby and impatient husband (he seriously yelled at an old man and almost pushed him out of the way to get off a plane once...I think he may be slightly claustrophobic). I could visit old friends and stay in touch easier. Oh! And vengence on mean xbf! Key his car and teleport the hell outta there. That would be awesome. Am petty like that.

I know they say "it's not about the destination, it's about the journey" (or something like that), but I think "they" are people who haven't traveled for 10 days in a tiny car with their dad, step-mom and brother; camping out every night. I've already done the journeying. Not my thing. Just get me there and I'll be happy.

There's unselfish uses of teleportation too. Like using less gas. And ummm...other noble things I can't think of right this very moment. I'm sure there's tons.

I'm mostly in it for the selfish stuff. I'd totally go pick you up some Krystal's though. And maybe I could wear a cape.

**Courtesy of this week's writing challenge from the cafemom group.


I didn't forget about you

Obviously I didn't sneak away to the bedroom to blog. In fact, I only popped on a couple of times to *try* to catch up on reading the many blogs on my google reader. It didn't really happen. When I finally got to it yesterday I had 218 posts (yes, some was youtube stuff and celebrity gossip stuff but still). And I needed a day to recover from the visit. Was most tired needed many naps. Even Eliana slept a lot.

I missed de-lurk day. I would have loved to leave the security of my google reader to ooh and ahh over pretty blog layouts far superior to my own and maybe comment my butt off. But I missed it. I may just make Tuesday make-up de-lurk day. Maybe. (I make no promises since the baby can be demanding and yelly sometimes.)

So visit was nice. My mom is awesome and Kelly was great. She barely let me hold the baby the whole time. But if I asked, she always handed her over. Other than a few snide remarks (commenting that maybe I keep the house too cold for the baby and that "I would give you a taste of mashed potatoes but you mom won't let me" blah blah blah) everything was great. Tony and I even got to get out for a few hours (away from the baby and despite what my step-mother insinuates, it does not make me a bad mother I'd appreciate you to shut up and butt out thank you much!). After I heard that she was happy and smiling and not crying, I was able to relax and enjoy myself. And all we talked about was the baby and then went shopping to find a toy for her we are lame.

I was sad and happy when they left. Sad because since I live here and they live there, I always feel left out of the family things. I miss them. It was nice being around people who helped create the bathroom fungus and was there when I stood naked at my back door while my house burned down around me (another time, I promise). Happy because I missed my normal, everyday life. Also, I need to rebuild my mommy confidence. My mother raised 4 girls. She and I have different parenting styles, and that's ok. But some things she would say made me second-guess myself. Kelly has a degree in Early Childhood Education and is so good with kids and babies (and crappy with adults, but that's not the point). She would scoff at me if I didn't know how to do something (like hold my pinky finger in Eliana's mouth for her to suck)(what do I care...that's why God invented pacifiers). So yeah, good and bad. Still have to build the mommy-confidence, but I'm sure it'll come back.

I'm so glad to be able to blog again. I'm supposed to be folding laundry with Tony right now, but I ditched him for you. I missed you and don't want you to forget about me.

I'll have more stuff tomorrow. I have to tell you about the birds and the peeing. And pictures.



Just after I published the last post, I scrolled down and there was the rolling over video. And since I think Eliana is so cute (and she's sleeping and maybe I miss her), I decided to play that video. In it, you can hear me talking. Tony turns around from the desk and asks, "Is that her?" pointing to the baby monitor. I said, "Is what her? The talking?" He nods his head. And I say "You mean our 2 month old baby?" He nods again asking "Is that her?"

Yes Tony, she rolls over and has started talking.

I miss you already

My mother and sister will be here tomorrow to meet Eliana. I'm so excited! My mom is awesome and Kelly's nice once you get to know her. Well, maybe not nice to adults, but she's great with kids. And this means Tony and I get to go out together. By ourselves. Without the baby. For the first time ever. Or at least since she was born. Am nervous.

So, my point. My family does not know about my blog. I don't think they would care really, except I maybe curse too much. I just want to have the option to complain about them someday. And if they read it, that's out the window. In fact, there is only one person in my real life that reads this. And I would like to keep it that way. OK, 2 people if you count Tony. So I probably won't be blogging until they leave on Thursday. Or maybe I'll just take the laptop into the bedroom and blog in private. It'll be our little secret. Shhh. Don't tell.

But if I can't sneak away or I'm too busy having fun, then I shall miss you and think of you fondly. Smooches to ya!

PS. Did I mention we have to drive 2 and a half hours to pick them up and 2 and a half hours back with the baby in the car in her carseat that she kinda hates? Am very very scared. Please pray for non-fussy, happy baby day. kthnxbye



Miss, from the cafemom group, has asked me (ok, everyone, but I'm part of the group, so me too) to post a blog about abuse. And since I'm nothing if not obedient (HA!), I've decided to participate. And I've been intending to write this post for a while. Now I have an excuse.

I was 19 years old and living on Guam. I'd lived there since I was 14 (and from 9-11 years old). Since I was 19 and so grown-up, I moved out of my parent's house and in with a friend. Ok, acquaintance. It was terrible. I hated living there so much. So when I met him (we'll call him SF)(that stands for Shit Face), I may have rushed a little into the relationship. I wanted out of where I was. Everything moved so fast. We started living together right away. And everything was good. For a little while.

The first time it happened, it didn't seem so bad. He punched me in the arm. Hell, my sister had done that a million times. Granted, she never left a big, purple bruise, but he was a guy. Didn't know his own strength. And he apologized. I can't remember the second time. Or the third. Or the 30th.

I remember once I accidentally forgot to turn the stove off. We both went to work. He got home before me and called me at work, yelling. Said I shouldn't bother going home. I knew what was coming, so I decided to stay at my parent's house. But when I got off work, he was there. We sat in his car in the parking lot. He didn't say a word. He backhanded me across the face. I tried to get out, but he grabbed my hair and slammed my face into the steering wheel 4 or 5 times.

Another time I dropped my pager into the toilet. It was going to cost $50 to get a new one. So the day we picked it up, he tells me how stupid I was. And the he beat me in the car all the way home. His mother was in the front seat at the time. She yelled at him to stop, but he barely noticed her. It was the first time he'd hit me in front of her. I thought she would have been upset about it. But she really didn't seem too surprised. I found out later that his father had beat his mother all the time.

On Mother's Day I called my mom from work. We talked for a while and all of a sudden I told her that SF beats me. I don't know why. I have no idea where it came from. I didn't intend to tell anyone. She told me to tell my dad* what I had just said. I will never forget what he said to me. He said, "Ok, here's what we're gonna do. We're gonna pick you up from work and we're gonna bring boxes. We're gonna go to your house and get your things and you're coming to stay with us." I told him it wasn't necessary (I was moving to Alaska in 3 months, so I figured I would tough it out until then) and that I would be fine. Then he said, "No, here's what we're gonna do. We're gonna pick you up from work and we're gonna bring boxes. We're gonna go to your house and get your things and you're coming to stay with us." I insisted that I would be fine and not to worry about me. He said, "You're not listening. This IS what we're going to do." I said, "ok".

They never even waited for me to get off work. My boss let me leave early. My parent's seemed very.....kick-ass is the only word that comes to mind. They were eager and excited. I was scared. I didn't know what would happen, but I did know SF's propensity for drama. When we got there, I opened the door and he was watching TV. He looked up and said he was just about to pick me up from work and how did I get home. Then he saw my parent's. He asked, "What's going on?" He looked very wary and nervous. All I could say was "I'm sorry". My mother and I went to the bedroom and started throwing my stuff together. Not even all my stuff. Just whatever was within reach. My dad stayed out with SF. He said "I know what you've been doing to my daughter". I don't know what was said after that. My dad had, apparently, called the cops earlier to let the know what was about to happen (taking me away from abusive boyfriend) and had them on stand-by just in case. SF grabbed a japanese sword that was hanging on the wall and went into the bathroom and locked the door (propensity for drama). My dad called the cops. When they got there they asked if I wanted to press charges. If I could go back in time and re-live that one moment I would say "Yes, take the fucker to jail". But I was upset and confused and emotional. So I told them "No, I just want to get my stuff and leave". So we did.

When I got home, my sisters had made up a place for me to sleep. And they stayed up hugging me and talking to me and trying to make me laugh. When SF tried to call the next day, one of my sisters would answer and tell him to go fuck himself (they were 17, 15, and 13 at the time and they were awesome). His aunt (who we had rented from) even called to tell me I had to get the rest of my stuff. She tried to sneak in that this (beating your significant other) was just how things were handled and if I just didn't mess up so much, he wouldn't hit me. I told her if she wanted to get slapped around, she was welcome to it, but I was done. We went over later to get the rest of my things. I called the airline and had my ticket changed so I could leave the following month. He stalked me for a while after that. It was never menacing. He was trying to get me back. Once I got over the emotional crap, that was never gonna happen.

I wonder to this day why I stayed so long. Did I think I could change him? Did I pity him? His father beat his mother. Did I think he couldn't help himself? I honestly don't know. I missed my youngest sister's 8th grade graduation because I had a black eye and a fat lip. I told her I was sick. I think about that all the time. She forgave me. But I feel so guilty that I let him do that to me.

It completely changed who I was. I spent the next 10 months in Alaska using men. I always said since I was using them, I wasn't a slut. But I was. I guess I was acting out or reclaiming my freedom or whatever. I wasn't really dealing. After too long of that I had to leave. I needed to fix myself. I moved to Oregon. I met Tony. I got better. I was still very controlling and it's only been in the last year or so that I've eased up. I blamed all men (including Tony) for what SF did to me. I took out my anger on Tony all the time. I really don't know why he stayed.

I don't know if I'd really want to change what happened, since it made me who I am today. But I know I wouldn't want that for my sisters. Or my mother. Or my daughter. I hope she is smart enough to avoid my mistake. I hope she makes better choices that I did. But if she doesn't, I hope she's strong enough to leave.

*He's technically my step-dad, but for this and a million other reasons, he'll always be my Dad


Eliana Update...This time with math!

So today was make-up doctor appt day. Nothing too exciting. She weighs 10lbs 10oz (50th percentile), she's 23.25" long (75th percentile) and her head circumference is 39.5cm (70th percentile). I don't know why they do head circumference in centimeters. Maybe they're British. So she's fine. Better than fine. The doc commented on her many many birth marks. Ok, 3. But still...there was commenting. And her belly button is fine (there were worries about the cord not coming off completely)(those worries were mine). The doctor said yay rolling over. Those may not have been her exact words, but close enough. She said most babies don't start until 4 months. Way to go my kid. Other than the diaper leaking and having to change her out of her to be seen in public cute girly outfit to her whatever I happen to have in the diaper bag outfit, all went well. She even slept in the car on the way home. I know what you're thinking. But really, she was fussy this morning and all night (OMG the fussy!) so things really do even out. And now she is asleep. And this post took me 3 hours to write. Am done now will write again tomorrow love you bye bye.


I guess I was wrong

Looks like it didn't take long for her to start doing it consistently. I am so proud!! This was the 5th time in a row (and the second that I got on video). Good job Eliana!!!!

ETA: I posted the second video because the first one was filled my screams and giggles and I didn't think you'd want to hear me acting a fool.