July, 2011
Archive

  • Massaging Mommy

    When contemplating having babies, I bet a lot of people think of all the sacrifices they will have to make. Guess, what? It is true. You have to make a lot of sacrifices. But recently I started thinking of some pretty creative ideas to make our relationship more symbiotic.

    Making a game out of doing things for me.

    The first one I am working on is massaging mommy. I give her a demo… you know… show her the pressure points… and then encourage her to try on me. Sure, she needs to work on dexterity and the strength of her hands, but I figure this is just the beginning training years and with enough practice soon enough she will be a pro.

    “How is this?”

    “More elbow grease? Okay… how about now? How is this? Am I getting the right spot?”

    “What?? I have to do your back too??”

    July 29, 2011 • 9-12 months, Mommy Body, Mommy Mind • Views: 141

  • The Olden Days

    Are you still a hypocrite if you know what you are saying is hypocritical? If I acknowledge the irony of complaining about the over technological materialism of modern times while blogging on my Mac Book Pro because I can’t reach my Ipad, is it still ironic? Or am I just a douche?

    I tend to romanticize the olden days, and what I think it might have been like to live in an era when we were more connected to nature. For some reason, everything shrouded in history seems somewhat magical. Of course there were fairies, elves, and dragons in the middle ages… I mean there were public beheadings and burning people at the stake. Anything was possible.

    Whether I fantasize about Western culture, the Eastern Empire or indigenous communities, something about the past has always seemed superior to me. They weren’t watching crap television on the E channel, but making potions with alchemy or flying on the backs of ravens with shamans. People were wild. They lived off the land and knew how to bake bread, kill beasts, and ride horses through the woods. How did they know where they were going? Everything looks the same and there were no paths. People were raw, independent, and connected to their homeland. They went to war and killed each other face to face. Not with bombs and chemical warfare, but with swords, knives, arrows, and their hands, while the women made fires and soup and prayed there wouldn’t be any pillaging… because you know what usually comes along with that.

    But after dealing with The Munch and her fever, I am so grateful to be living amongst Star Magazine and 4,000,000 types of hair conditioner. Could you imagine your baby getting sick and the best option was to stick some leaches on them? Or just assuming that at least two of your kids were going to die, if you didn’t die first in childbirth, so you had six to make sure there were four left to plow the fields?

    “Wait… I don’t get it. Why do I have to churn better when there is some right behind me in this machine that runs on electricity?”

    July 28, 2011 • 9-12 months, Health, Musings • Views: 90

  • The White Man’s Medicine

    I am one of those people who hasn’t taken an Advil for 15 years. I have a personal dedication to holistic and alternative healing… to the point where I had a yeast infection for 2 months using twigs and berries as a remedy because I refused the white man’s medicine Monistat. That, and I had already committed to healing holistically from this pesky brain tumor so I felt I had to stay consistent. I couldn’t expect to heal my brain if I couldn’t heal my vagina, and as any one knows the vagina is just as important as the silly brain.

    The reason I am thinking of all this is because The Munch got so sick I felt truly terrified. She had been miserable since last Wednesday, but I just figured she was teething. Looking back, I feel pretty dumb because her body felt super warm, but it was also super hot outside. You know… one of those weeks where you kept hearing unique statements like “hot enough for ya’?” and “staying cool?” What are people thinking when they say stuff like that? Why not just call it like it is. “Damn, it is as hot and moist as a turned on vagina right now!”

    I digress

    Luckily my friend Forrest came over to help me get my head out of my ass. What is that you say?? Oh, I do a lot of yoga so I am pretty flexible… that is how.

    “Umm Toni, The Munch is really is hot… I think you should take her temp.”

    “I tried to get the thermometer under her armpit earlier but she kept moving around so I gave up.” (Note to reader… I fully admit that is lame).

    “Ummmm, yeah, you got to go up the ass.” Lucky for me, Forrest knew what she was doing and when she stuck that metal stick up my daughters butt I knew she was a real friend.

    “102…”

    “Crap Forrest, what should we do?”

    “This is where I go to Google… Google will know.”

    So the magical world of the internet told us to give her some baby Advil/Tylenol to bring the fever down. Despite my dogmatic approach to myself, I just couldn’t fuck around with The Munch. Part of me wanted to say “Hey girl… mind over matter. Just will your temperature down like a Tibetan Buddhist monk…” but I was scared. I felt so vulnerable, and I just wanted her to feel better.

    An hour later, the Tylenol brought her fever down, so we went to bed. I thought we were okay, until she woke up at 3:00am vomiting, and shaking. Despite my normal aversion to hospitals and doctors, I was in the ER faster than… faster than…. a car… driving really fast.

    Her temp had risen to 105. They did blood work, shoved Tylenol up her butt, and tried twice to give her a catheter but couldn’t find her tiny baby pee hole. I had to stop them and say that is enough trying because I couldn’t stand it anymore. I personally didn’t even know you could put something up your pee hole, and they kept fumbling. So the nurse gave her a shot of antibiotics and sent us home. It was horrible. I know they were doing the best they could, but they didn’t really know what was wrong. I didn’t want to give her antibiotics because of how it effects your body’s natural immune system, but I felt so desperate. I wanted my breast milk to have the healing power of crystals in it and make everything okay, but I also want to have purple eyes and I guess we can’t control everything.

    The next day she was miserable. I couldn’t put her down, she cried the entire time she was awake, and would just say “mama mama mama mama” over and over and over again. We went back to the doctor where they put her on antibiotics for 10 days.
    Of course, everything has a consequence, so the antibiotics hurt her tummy and not only give her diarrhea, but painful gas and nice juicy wet farts. Now that is something to look forward to! So I am giving her probiotics to help her stomach handle the antibiotics, and I am sitting here wondering what the hell a biotic is?

    But today she is feeling better…. Is it the white mans’ medicine? Or would she have felt better anyway?? It is so hard to know for sure.

    So this is what I think about all this, because I am highly conflicted.

    I believe in the power of positive thinking. I believe that there are many natural remedies and cures out there. I believe that as a conscious person, you have a choice about your health and how best to heal. For my own health, I will always choose the dandelion powder and quail egg extract over anything I could get at CVS.

    But a baby is different. I don’t really know what is wrong with her. She can’t tell me what hurts, and I don’t think she gets it when I tell her “Think about what is going on in your life… what is the universe trying to tell you by this illness? Is there something in your life that you cannot stomach? That you need to purge? Is someone making you angry and that is why you are hot and have a fever? Is it repressed rage? Sickness is the true-self trying to communicate to the ego through the language of the body… what is your true-self saying?” Yeah… she just kind of gives me a blank stare.

    I think the homeopathic path is the best when you don’t feel totally frantic. But when you feel like you are dealing with an emergency, it is nice that we have the white man’s medicine even if it does make you shard* your pants.

    *Shard: When you shit your pants when you fart

    When she was sleeping all I could do was stare at the video monitor to make sure she was okay and still breathing ☹

    July 27, 2011 • 9-12 months, Adventures, Baby Body, Health, Parenting • Views: 85

  • Mama Knows Best

    Have you ever gotten stung by a bee, wasp, or a yuppie? Doesn’t it suck? I always thought I had an allergy to bee stings. Partly because the sting would get swollen, puffy, and hurt for days and days… and partly because I thought it would get me attention.

    So the other day I was texting and walking through the grass, when out of nowhere stepped on a bee. Sure… the bee had to sacrifice its life because of me, but I misspelled my text because of this! Not to mention it hurt like crazy. I got so mad at my phone, the person I was texting, the world. Suddenly, life didn’t make any sense. Why was I being punished? I am good person right? What did I do to deserve this?

    As I dropped to my knees to curse God, my mom came outside.

    “What happened? You step on a bee?”

    “Yes! Yes! Why? Why God Why!?”

    My mom went inside, I figured to leave me in peace for my last few moments on planet earth, but then she came out with vinegar and an ice cube wrapped in a paper towel. She poured the vinegar on my foot.

    “This will get the stinger out.”

    “No Mom it won’t… it is in there forever… I will never walk again.”

    “Here, put some ice on it.”

    “Nothing is going to help me. Why even bother? I might as well just die.”

    I took the ice, smelled my foot, and strangely enough started craving a salad. I got on the phone to say my final goodbyes and noticed my foot didn’t really hurt anymore. After 10 minutes of icing it, it was actually fine. As if nothing had ever happened.

    “Huh… I guess my mom was right about that vinegar trick.”

    This whole fiasco made me realize I have a lot to learn about home remedies for when The Munch gets hurt. That way I can just swoop in wearing flowing white clothes and fix her burn with ladybug saliva and strawberry seeds.

    A wasp sting of my past… pre knowledge from my mama

    July 25, 2011 • 9-12 months, Adventures, Health, Parenting • Views: 282

  • A Baby Can Make You Mad

    Close your eyes and picture a baby. Now open them because how are you going to read this with your eyes closed? Remember that baby you saw in your mind’s eye? Wasn’t it soft, cooing, sweet, innocent, and angelic? You wouldn’t think that a darling baby could ever make you mad right? That is preposterous. It is just a baby… a harmless adorable lovely little baby. Well let me tell you that sometimes you can get so mad at a baby you want to punch them in the throat.

    So The Munch is learning how to walk right? Now, the rational side of me knows that is a lot for her little brain to process and I should be empathic to all this change she is going through. But for the past week she has not only been having fitful violent sleep, but the only way she will go back to sleep is if I get up and walk around with her. She will push up against me and pull my hair while I wrestle her to try and get her to calm down. When I finally feel her relax and try to put her down on the bed, she wakes up to yell at me, roll around, grunt, moan and cry. Then she tries to sit up and stand, gets confused and tired, and yells some more.

    It is hard to deal with that in the middle of the night. You are tired, and don’t feel like walking around with a thrashing lunatic. The other night I got so frustrated I looked her in the eye and asked “What the fuck do you want from me?” She was quite for a moment, and while she thought it over flopped back and fell asleep. Then when I finally fell back asleep, she woke up and we did it all over again.

    In the morning when she wakes up, she pats me awake and gives me baby hugs that melt my heart like a grilled cheese sandwich. Mmmmm that actually sounds delicious… but is official…The Munch is an emotional terrorist!

    “I’m sorry mama for keeping you up… can you forgive me?”

    July 22, 2011 • 9-12 months, Mommy Mind, Parenting, Sleeping • Views: 128

  • Babies Don’t Give A Care What You Think of Them

    When you have a feeling, do you share it regardless of your audience? Do you ever scream as loud as you can because the ball you were playing with rolled away? Would you be embarrassed to cry in front of a stranger because I took a dirty sock out of your mouth that you were sucking on? Do you share every emotion you have with the people around you, or do you censor yourself in fear of what people would think if you let them know just how mad it makes you that they won’t share their cookie?

    As an adult, I feel like most of us filter our communication to accommodate others primarily because we fear how we might be judged. Sure, maybe you are being considerate by not demanding to try on your friend’s shoes, or insisting they put a toy in their mouth that you just had in yours, but maybe what we are really doing is protecting ourselves.

    When we expose our deepest emotions and desires, it makes us vulnerable and often embarrassed. To let someone know how you really feel about something means that you can’t hide behind social convention. I personally would rather suppress my emotions deep into the bowels of my soul constipating my psyche with years of impacted crap. Am I eventually going to be in need for some emotional ex lax?? Probably… but until I implode, I think I will just hold it all in.

    A baby on the other hand doesn’t give a flying fuck in a rolling doughnut what you think about them. They have a freedom in expressing themselves that I find truly inspiring. If The Munch has a feeling, she will let me know regardless of who she is in front of. She has no shame and I feel I have a lot to learn from how uninhibited she is. So the next time we are hanging out and you start to bore me, I think I am going to lay on the floor, have a tantrum, and cry.

    “Nooooooo! I don’t want t hear that story! You have already told me that one!”

    July 21, 2011 • 9-12 months, Baby Brain, Musings, Parenting • Views: 54

  • Too Many Options Makes It Harder To Make Decisions!

    Do you know what the most popular ice cream flavor at 31 flavors is? Vanilla. Is that because vanilla is better than bubble gum, or banana rum cream cherry pie swirled chocolate coated oreo cookie? Not necessarily. It is because when there are too many options in life, it is paralyzing to make a decision.

    It is like when you go to a restaurant and the menu is longer than the bible but you can’t figure out what to order. Or you are given an assignment to write about anything you want, and can’t think of anything to write about. Or how the children of billionaires that could do whatever they want with their lives can’t figure out what they want to do (I mean besides coke). Or how you can be in a kitchen stocked with food and feel like there is nothing to eat. But if you only had saltines, olives, and ketchup you would figure out a meal fit for a king… and by king I mean someone who isn’t too picky and pretty hungry. But you get my point.

    Without boundaries humans have to really struggle to focus and figure out what they want. Too many options makes life more difficult because it impossible to feel satisfied. No matter what you think you might want, the fact that there is so much else to choose from makes you think about all that you might be missing out on too. How can you enjoy anything when you keep thinking about all you are not getting that you maybe could have gotten if you made a different decision? You would think it would be liberating to have more jeans to choose from, but if you think too long about skinny jeans, flared jeans, boot cut jeans, straight legged jeans, tapered jeans, loose fitting jeans, baggy jeans, tight jeans with a slight flare that taper then straighten out then hug the ankle, you just might lose your mind.

    When you have too much to choose from, it is distracting. You can’t see things for what they are, because everything blends together into one big steaming pile of pressure to make a decision.

    If you want your mind to feel free and creative, limit yourself. Create boundaries. If The Munch has a basket of toys in front of her, she will very quickly get bored and agitated. But if I give her one toy at a time, she will play with it, talk to it, hold it up in the air, drop it, pick it up, try to put it in something else, bang it against the table, put it in the toilette… I mean we are talking some seriously imaginative stuff here!

    “Uhhgggggg… It is so boring here! There is nothing to do!”

    July 20, 2011 • 9-12 months, Baby Brain, Mommy Mind, Musings, Parenting • Views: 62

  • My Worst Fear Ever Has Come True!

    My worst nightmare has come true. Something I knew might happen some day, but I blocked it out of my mind feigning ignorance like a racist grandpa. But now that it has happened, I feel like I’m in that movie Jurassic Park when they realized the Velociraptors could open doors. What is that you say? Why the obscure reference? Perhaps because I watched Jurassic Park too many times one afternoon on pot brownies… but when they realized they were no longer safe in the kitchen because those dinosaurs could open doors with their dinosaur claws I was so scared I made a brownie in my underpants.

    So what is going on you may be wondering…

    The Munch has figured out how to take off her diaper.

    If you are not familiar with the functionality of a diaper, let me refresh you. A diaper, holds shit and piss… but since it comes out of a baby lets call is poopie and pee pee. Unfortunately for your child, you actually want that stuff plastered to your babies skin until you figure out they need to be changed and do it on your own time. Meaning, you don’t want them to realize for themselves “Hey, there is poo in here. I am just going to pull on these tabs here on the side, and whoa… check it out. This thing comes right off. Now… what is that in there? This brown stuff? I think I am going to touch it. Maybe smear it on the floor, and in my hair. This is awesome. I wonder what it tastes like?”

    “Oh wow… I never realized it was so easy to get this thing off! I think I am going to pee on the floor then…”

    July 19, 2011 • 9-12 months, Baby Body, Baby Brain • Views: 224

  • The Awesome Experience of Accidently Throwing Out Important Sh*t

    Have you ever cleaned up after yourself, and gotten really mad at you for making a mess that you have to clean up? Do you find yourself resenting you for letting it get this bad and then leaving the mess for you to deal with like you are some kind of maid for you? Yeah, I thought so.

    I used to be really anal about keeping a neat house, but then I found out there were other ways of not getting pregnant. Wait… what was that all about? What I meant to say was I have a history of being a neat freak, but lately I have become more lackadaisical about my standards. “You know, I think that sock hanging on the back of that chair really brings out the color of the wall. I am gonna leave it there.”

    Eventually the time came for me to clean up after me, and while it was happening I got bored and started throwing more and more stuff in the trash. Things that don’t even belong in the trash, like hats I didn’t feel like putting away, a fork, an umbrella I kept tripping over, and a pile of mail. Was it mail I had sorted through you may ask? No. Not really. It was just a big heaping pile of mail that I put in the trash.

    Why Toni? Why did you put mail in the trash? Do you think you might possibly regret this?

    I was tired. I was sick of cleaning. The mail had dust on it.

    The next day I get a phone call alerting me that a very important UPS envelope had been mailed to me by mistake that was meant for my mom. Inside were irreplaceable secret documents of the utmost importance. Did I have that UPS envelope?

    “Ummmm I think it is in the trash.”

    “Toni, that is ridiculous. Who throws out unopened mail? I am sure that it is somewhere just look for it.”

    “Okay.”

    Next day

    “Well, Toni…. Did you find it?”

    “Yeah. No. I think it is in the trash…”

    Needless to say, that afternoon was spent going through the trash

    The adorable bugs that guard the trash

    Me searching

    Yay!

    July 18, 2011 • 9-12 months, Adventures • Views: 156