Having a kid makes your house creepy.

I am the mom of a one-year-old.

I am the mom of a one-year-old.

A one-year-old. 

She was fussy at her party (molars!), but it was good anyway.  It was kind of ridiculous to have a bunch of adults sit around and watch a one-year-old try to open gifts.  The kid just didn't get it.  She was also not interested in her cake.  I gave her a slice, and she'd eat it if I fed it to her, but she got frosting on her hand and was DISGUSTED at the texture.  From that point on she refused to do the cliche messy-baby-birthday-cake spiel.  Which I was a bit disappointed about.  But what can I say, I have a classy lady.  

I was also super lazy about the photos.  I feel like that's a hanging offense in mom-world.  But I guess I take enough photos on a daily basis that it's not that big of a deal.  

Rainbow cake!  White cake with white chocolate lemon ganache filling and buttercream frosting.  

  

I couldn't find yellow soda that didn't look like pee.

We have a dining room!  Mike, Sarah, and I had to reupholster those chairs in a mad dash three hours before the party.  We bought them at estate sales and thrift stores and four of them were so old that when we took off the seating we found that they were stuffed with hay and burlap.  But don't they look great?  I'm debating painting them white, but I kind of like the antique-y brown finish.

I still have to finish the upper part of the fireplace ...

That tiny hounds tooth chair was Mike's idea, and I will never hear the end of it.  I told him not to buy it because, let's be honest, the kid doesn't sit still.  There was no way she was going to use a chair.  But during the party she would SCREAM if we took her out of it.  It's her favorite thing, ever.  Some speculate that it's because she's never had a her-size piece of furniture before.  I think it's to spite me.

In the morning she sits in it in her bathrobe and sips her juice.

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I am having BABY FEVER.  I can't see tiny baby feet sticking out of a car seat on a grocery cart without my uterus screaming.  But when I think about it with my logic instead of my emotions, I realize that there's no way I could deal with two young kids while Mike and I are working opposite shifts.  And I worry that another kid will take away with the time I have with Gloria.  And financially, fewer kids is smarter, right?  AND, I really don't want to be pregnant again.  Ever.

It's so funny how biological yearning flies in the face of logic, isn't it?  Logically, I don't WANT to put another human on this messed up planet, right?  But damn it if I don't crave those sleepless nights and two-hour feedings and, hell, even bagy spit-up.

It's absurd.

To come: Photos of Gloria in her new hat - a faux fur number complete with ears ...

Pre-birthday prep

Today has been a day of insane preparation for Gloria's birthday.  We're only doing a small lunch with immediate family, and there's so much to do!  Most of it involves final touches on the renovation, so I shouldn't be surprised.  But I am.  Surprised at how busy today has been, and cranky about it.

Gloria insisted on helping.  Which was actually three steps back for every one I made.

Gloria's first birthday is rapidly approaching and I am woefully under-prepared.  Every time I start to think about what I need to do for preparations, I come to three hours later with a beer in hand, looking at photos of when she was first born.

Nothing else is getting done, either.  I have needed to grocery shop for at least week.  For dinner tonight I ate bread and cheese and Gloria is currently chowing on white beans with what germ on them ...

She doesn't seem to mind.  The kid would eat her own foot if I put it on her high chair tray.  And now that she's been allowed by her GI to discover yogurt and cheese?  There's no stopping her.

But anyway, there's just no time!  Or motivation!  Where's the motivation?!

It's incredible how much G has changed in a year.  At one month old she had old man jowls and couldn't control her face.  At twelve months she's RUNNING around the house.  I can communicate with her at about the same level that I communicate with our dog, Kevin.  This means that she mostly knows, "Where's the ball?!  Go get the ball!" and "Sit!"  Although, she is also trained to fetch my phone when it rings, which is really convenient.

Halloween was nice.  We went over to Mike's parents' house and had dinner.  We showed the baby off to a couple of neighbors.  I had to go really low-key with her costume because if something seems amiss with her outfit (for example, when I put a tutu on her), she'll scream and tug at it until we rescue her from the dreaded garment.

Also, face paint and babies don't mix.  That orange splotch on her nose?  That was an attempted beak, but she would NOT have it ...

I’ve been having headaches for the past two weeks.  I’ve explored many possible reasons.  Neck pain?  I started making Mike give me neck massages.  Eyesight?  Started wearing my glasses.  Dehydrated?  Started wearing a beer funnel hat filled with water. 

Then I caught my reflection in a display window while grocery shopping.  And I realized something.  I have the mom face.  The face of chronic disapproval, down-turned mouth corners, and furrowed brow.  The face of constant “No, no, no, no, no!”s and “Don’t you dare put that sock in the bathtub!”  I’m guessing this is the source of my headaches, but as Gloria is just learning to sprint around and throw tantrums, I don’t know how to fix it.

I couldn’t figure out what Gloria should be for Halloween.  I didn’t want to pay $40 for a cheap-o corporate store costume that she’ll wear once.  But I did want to wait until the last minute, whine about how I don't know what to do, and then have to pull something off at the very last minute.  Because that’s how I roll. 

So that’s what I did.  And for $10 in tulle and felt, I think I did pretty well.  But I'm not going to tell you what it is or show you the finished product until tomorrow.  

Look at the mullet.

Even if the sky is falling down I know that we’ll be safe and sound

Part of Gloria’s bedtime routine used to include reading Goodnight Moon.  This was not a book that I grew up with, so it wasn’t my favorite, but Mike grew up with it and Gloria LOVED it, so I read it regardless.

Until that fateful night when Gloria was running around naked and pooped on Goodnight Moon.  I suggested that we just remove the dust cover and clean up the edge, but this suggestion sent Mike into hysterics.  So we threw it away.

Our bedtime routine hasn’t been the same since.  Gloria loses interest in the other books.  She pushes them away and gets fussy. 

UNTIL:

Her Aunt Mary bought her Goodnight GOON.  I am a huge sucker for anything holiday-related, so I was just as excited as Gloria for this one.  Now she carries it around with her and refuses to read anything else before bedtime. 

Gloria is growing up at an alarming rate.  She can (almost) say “dog” and “ball.”  She’s starting to learn that if she bends her knees she can pick up the pace and run.  She grows out of her clothes every six minutes.  She copies everything you do.  The other day she found my face lotion bottle in the hallway.  She carried it around with her, pushing on the top and them rubbing her hands together.  I don’t use hand lotion and I have no idea where she picked this up.  

Today was good.  In the last ten days this household has endured two head colds, a 102.5 fever, the Norovirus, the deep disappointment of missing a trip home, and the cutting of three molars.  Today was the first day that felt calm and relatively healthy.  We made a trip out of the house (cabin fever!) to buy Gloria PJs.  I came home with tiny, sparkly Puma sneakers for her.  Now she’s playing and I’m having a quiet afternoon glass of red wine.  We’re listening to Muse.  Can life get sweeter?

I have terrible news

Gloria slept all night in her crib last night.  She went to sleep at nine and, aside from two pacifier recovery missions, we didn’t have to get up with her at all.  She’s been sleeping through the night for a while now, only in our bed.  (We have a king-sized pillow top.  What can I say, the girl has good taste.)

I feel very strongly about co-sleeping because of the psychological benefits.  Mike feels strongly about getting the kid to sleep in her own room.  Unfortunately, a decade-long relationship has taught me that you’re supposed to compromise with your spouse.  So we did. 

Mike was so excited that today he ran out and bought Gloria a baby comforter.  (Her baby blankets are too small now.) 

We’ll see how tonight goes. 

I was never into home decorating pre-Gloria.  Now I can’t wait to start collecting seasonal decorations.  I don’t know, I’m blaming it on some kind of weird, prolonged nesting instinct.  Mike and Sarah roll their eyes at me each time I add a glitter skull or tweed pumpkins to my collection, and Gloria carries on spreading Legos all over the house, not seeming to notice.  BUT JUST WAIT.  They’ll all be thanking me when Gloria is old enough to be excited by holidays, my collection is more vast, and we’re all living in a Home and Gardens utopia of seasonal festivity.

Gloria’s favorite toy this week: A glue stick to my hot glue gun.  She found it under the couch and now I can’t separate the two of them.

Oh, the other big news is that my black thumb of plant despair has healed.  I killed a Begonia a month or so back.  (I don’t know what happened.  I looked at it funny and its stem started spontaneously rotting.  Then it broke in six different places and fell over in its pot.)  While mourning my plant, I read online that you can cut Begonias at a certain juncture, sit them in a small amount of water, and they should grow roots.  I was really skeptical at my ability to make this happen, but it worked!

Today G-dubs and I were on our own.  We picked fall leaves and framed them.  Now she’s running around talking to her glue stick and I’m baking seasonal vegetables for tomorrow’s dinner.  Life is good.

"Ok, Aunt Sarah.  We can go grocery shopping, but I'll drive."

Running all over the house.

Beet face.

And giant toddler feet.

This is how she entertained herself yesterday morning.
Sock stuffed in shirt, and bathrobe on head.

Both shirt-stuffed photos are courtesy of Aunt Sarah. :)

Eleven months last Thursday!

A mere nine months ago she looked like this.