It’s offical, we are offical
Posted on May 16, 2008
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….Officially married!
Yesterday morning the weirds went to court to get hitched. It was the perfect way to do so [for us at least…] after some lazy research we decided that paying someone $300+ for a ten minute ceremony was lame, and we’d rather just bring Grandma and Baby Weird Thursday morning for a simple ring & vow exchange. Yes it was awesome, YES Daddyweird had gum in his mouth that the officiant made him spit out before he kissed me, YES I almost cried but held it in, and lastly, no it doesn’t feel any different to be “officially married..”
We headed to my moms last night and she had a little celebratory cake made, and we drank champagne, and she gave us a gorgeous statue for our fireplace mantle. I’ve got to hand it to her, grandma weird is one thoughtful woman who makes things special. I wish she would find someone to appreciate her, and all her “nice touches…” Someone rich.
Anyway, I’m not allowed to put up photos of our ceremony but psst if you go on flicker there may or may not be two.
On a non-motherhood related issue, I have a serious problem. I am addicted to Polyvore I’ve been making sets all day, and I’m pretty much convinced I should stop writing, and become a personal stylist.
Wouldn’t you just love to wear that? Or wait! What about this:
I’m dying here, dying for things I can not afford and would never wear.
Domesticated
Posted on May 14, 2008
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Tomorow daddyweird and I will go from domestic partners to married uh, partners. I’m going to put on my striped sundress and pink flats, and we are going to load the baby, and his father into the car and head to the court house. I never imagined my wedding - I can’t imagine it now but I think the court house will be simple and afterwards we are going to my all time favorite resturant for dinner, Afghani food. Naturally some people are pissed; they want to see us waltz down the isle, they want a priest to bless us. We don’t really care.
See, broken families are tricky. Divorce is so common these days you don’t even blink an eye at the thought of seating dads next to old wives with new husbands, but I blink. I blink hard, it’s uncomfortable. I don’t want my ceremony to be about making sure other people are okay with who they’re standing next to. At the reception my father is sitting with my mothers family, because he has none. He has no mother, no father, no brother, no sister, and no friends…the only companion he has is Scotch. I’m embarrassed for my father; he’s positively emaciated…whether it’s the drinking, or the fact that he’s sick again I won’t know because he refuses to tell me anything.
Are you sick again Dad? No! I’m fine! The doctor SAID SO! He takes on the tone of a nervous boy.
Are you drinking Dad, can you try to stop, detox for my wedding? The only people who think I have a problem are you and mom… Really? What about the time you almost hit me because I dumped a bottle of booze down the drain? Or the time it took six police offers to escort you out of the house? The five rehabs? The longest you’ve been without a drink is a year Dad…
After the wedding I am done. I’m going to move to the woods and grow pumpkins and swim in my pool with babyweird and hang out with my brother who needs me, and my mother whom I love dearly and I’m going to put the fact that my father sees nothing wrong with drinking himself to death, lying about his health, living in an apartment with crooked ceilings and mold stains…who sees nothing wrong with the fact that because he’s too drunk all the time he hasn’t held his granddaughter since she was a month or two old, who sees nothing wrong with the fact that while he’s paying for my wedding that doesn’t make up for the fact that he’s DRINKING, AGAIN. The bloody towels in the shower, the emaciated body and skin stretched taunt against his collarbones and arms…I can’t do it, I won’t.
We are the sleepyheads
Posted on May 12, 2008
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Baby weird and I woke up at 6am this morning to wind, and rain. We were in bed together, under a few blankets and our quilt with the god-awful old lady print. We were warm and cozy and it’s those little moments, when we decide to sleep in until 9 because what’s the point of facing a day of drear, that I love to co sleep. We have a beautiful crib, made of solid mahogany wood that looks like something a real live princess would sleep in; my husband’s mother bought it for us despite the outrageous price tag, and I got a really lovely bumper set from Pottery Barn off Ebay with a vintage-floral pattern. It’s the kind of crib an infant should sleep in, solid and safe. But she sleeps with me…on sheets stained with apple carrot juice surrounded by my pillows that I spray with lavender pillow mist. She sleeps away from me, her face pressed against her baby gate her legs kicking me in the face when she switches positions; she sleeps curled under my arm blowing milky breath into my face that I breath in at 3am when I wake up [every night, I know, I’m a freak] to pee.
I think I want to stop sleeping together, and yet at night when I am in bed exhausted I listen for her cries. She sleeps fine! My mother in law says when she has slumber parties every week; she was in the pack and play until 5am! Yet, at 10 and 11 pm when I’m under the quilt, waiting for her, she cries. She cries, until she’s snuggled next to me and we fall asleep together. Some nights she’d rather stare at me in the dark, or sit up and try to sucker me into clapping for her, and softly shouting yeaaah.
Baby weirds huge, shiny crib no longer looks like an infants paradise it looks like infant jail. Hard time for spitting up and shitting all over the onesie mommy just put on you. 10 hours straight, no crying, no wanting a little water or milk, certainly no diaper changes. I want her to sleep in the fucking thing, but I also don’t want to give up sleeping with her. Can I split her in two maybe?
Happy Mothers Day
Posted on May 11, 2008
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I hope all you momma’s have a wonderful, fantastical mothers day. I hope you got to sleep in, and your husbands/boyfriends/partners in crime made you eggs Benedict and toast with jam. I hope they brought it to you IN BED with a cup of strong, delicious coffee. I hope you get to spend the day doing whatever the hell YOU want to do, even if it’s just lay in bed with a novel, and the breeze blowing through the window. I hope you got flowers. I hope you know that really, truly, motherhood is the most important job in the universe.
Breastestses
Posted on May 9, 2008
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I’m not a breast feeder. I was a pumper for the first three months of Baby Weirds life and I hated it. I hated pumping every two hours, I hated my nipples that leaked during a get together with friends; nipples that leaked through a breast pad, tank top and hoodie. I hated pumping at 1am-4am & 6am when I wanted to be sleeping. I hated my raw, bleeding nipples, and my rock hard breasts that ached when I threw on the lightest tee shirt I owned. I was selfish, I’ll admit that, everyone knows breast milk is the absolute shit and exactly what your child needs in the beginning. I was making milk, so why didn’t I breast feed? Because it hurt? Because I didn’t WANT to live by the pump? Well…yes
But sometimes I read breast feeding forums, or look at cute little breast is best stickers online and I kind of wish I had sucked it up [no pun intended]. I kind of even miss the milky smell all my tank tops had every morning when I woke up [note: I do not miss waking up to a rock hard tee shirt that had dried, crusty sour smelling milk on it..] I might even miss the suckling oh my breast at night, while I rocked babyweird to sleep…
But than I remember, there was no suckling. There was blood and tears. There were sore nipples that no longer brought my pleasure and delight, there were threats of homicide. Now that BW is on solids and a little formula I’m romancing breast feeding. I want the “proud breast feeder until the age of seven” sticker without you know, breast feeding.
On a non boob note: We got a new car! It’s official! We’ve got the kid, the dog, the gas-friendly SUV, and the house with the pool! All I need are mom jeans, a manageable short hair cut, and a few self help books and I’m good to go. Seriously though, the car is neat. It does neat things. I want to take photos but it’s pouring outside [my favorite kind of day] so you’ll have to wait until tomorow. To you know, see our totally un-common Toyota.
No Title.
Posted on May 7, 2008
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Would you like a run down of my day? Sure you would!
Woke up at 6:45am to Phil in our bedroom whispering he was going to get breakfast.
Phil came back at 7:15am to find Paige awake in her crib, and lazy me back in bed pretending to sleep. Told me my coffee had took a danergous spill while he bent over to pick up dog poo, but his managed to survive the fall. Offered me half, and told me he got a toasted blueberry muffin, my fav!
Generally good mood.
Paige napped and I went on the internet and read blogs cleaned up the house, which is messy.
Brought Paige to the DMV. Big no no. Waited and prayed and begged for photo id. NOTE: The six points rule IS absolute crap. You’d think one domestic partnership [signed by the county clerk], a social security card, a phone bill, two health insurances cards, a photo id, and babyweirds certificate with my name on it would be enough to prove I really am me, but it almost wasn’t. Until I guess the women felt sorry for us; with the screaming child and all.
Dropped child off at nanny 45 minutes late.
Took a slight work-day detour to look at new car. More details tomorow but well, we got a new car! It’s not a hybrid either so suck it. Did we want a hybrid? Sure, did we want to pay an extra $400 a month for one? No! We don’t drive far at all, and since we both are hermits who work from home we don’t need to worry so much about gas prices. We do have more room for the dog though, and um treasures.
Spent 3 1/2 hrs at the car place. Contemplated shooting myself.
Home for 30 minutes of work, spent reheating coffee up and sampling it.
I think there’s nothing worse than the feeling of a wasted day, am I right?
For the record, babyweird wants you to know she’s still teething:
If everyone could say a little prayer that she sleeps tonight that’d just be GREAT, thanks.
Posted on May 5, 2008
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Why oh why does baby weird need to have four teeth coming in AT ONCE?
Baby books shouldn’t lie to you. I’m sorry, but your child isn’t going to sleep through the night until he or she is nineteen. Just when their tummies can in fact handle a night without a feeding, they will start to get teeth and sleep will be out of the question.
God dammit! Sleep!
Anti-Bride
Posted on May 5, 2008
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FUCK GETTING MARRIED!
Point A: I never wanted the big wedding, I never even wanted to get married imaging myself as an odd-job doing cat lady for the rest of my life. Daddyweird and I live in domestic-partner shaped bliss floating floating through life with health insurance, and non-valid photo ID’s [oh wait, that’s just me..] But yeah, he proposed, I lost it [in a good way] and said yes and now we are having a wedding. A wedding my dad is paying for [coughalchohlicguiltcoughcough] and yes I’m grateful for that, and I’m excited about my simple little dress and eating delicious food but I hate being rushed.
The wedding is in two weeks. It feels surreal. For one thing I promised myself I’d loose like, 178lbs before the wedding and I haven’t. Because of the lovely weather I’m walking all over tarnation but I mean, I’m walking to get ICE CREAM dudes so it doesn’t count. And I hate that pressure, the “oh make sure your dress isn’t going to be snug because it was a little snug on top during your second fitting so DON’T GAIN A FUCKING POUND OR IT WON’T FIT…” because really, do you need to make me feel worse? Shut up, and yes I did just eat FRENCH chocolate pudding so beat that.
And we still need a marriage license. Since I’m not driving yet, I have a county ID from when I lived in New Jersey and yes it’s down my well over the years but now I’m waiting for over night fed ex’s with “six points of ID” from my moms house, and rushing to get photo ID from the state, to bring to the guy at the court house, to prove oh you know, I’m really truly BORN IN THE USA BABY! Note: I could have done this months ago but we are hopeless procrastinators.
So instead of counting down the days until my wedding cause I just can’t wait, I’m counting down the days until that shit is over so I can kick off my uncomfortable shoes, eat cookies, and not have a care in the world.
It’s party time
Posted on May 2, 2008
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Grandma was feeling lonely so she borrowed babyweird again for the night. Normally I’m ecstatic to lend over my infant for the night, imagining all the absoutely wild and crazy shit I was going to do like sleep for 10 hours straight, and catch up on my Tivo’ed shows but tonight I kinda wanted her around. Daddyweird is going to do music stuff with his man-friends and I thought BW and I could snuggle and go to sleep at around oh you know, 8pm. But I had to remind myself that in a month we are stealing BW and going off into the forest to live like the suburban hermits we truly are inside, so I agreed she could hang with her and I figured at the very least, I’d clean.
And I have. I cleaned the kitchen…half of it. I’m tired already, it’s after nine! The husband and I went to Babies R Us and got a new jogging stroller so off-roading at the dog park isn’t such a pain in the ass, and we got a neat baby gate type thing so we can trap BW in our living room and not worrying about her crawling into the dog crate, or under Daddies computer desk where she enjoys chewing on USB cords. After a large and delicious iced chai tea I’m ready to curl up in bed and read one of the six hundred novels I have recently bought but I think I want to clean the bedroom, and maybe work on my book.
The funny thing is, the husband asked me if I wanted to go out tonight…perhaps to a bar to drink or hang out with girlfriends and I looked at him like he had two heads. What’s happening to me? I used to enjoy a good night out dancing but now I just want to read, and look at stuffed bears on Etsy for my daughter. I’m boring. I’m also the happiest I’ve been, ever….even if at times I want to slam my head against the door 
foto friday
Posted on May 2, 2008
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Who’s face is never clean? Who eats dog bones and ribbon oh my? Who has become the most picky eater? It’s Babyweird!
But seriously, when the hell did my daughter become so picky? She’s starving for ABC gum, dust bunnies, previously mentioned dog bones, tennis balls that the dog has chewed on, Tupperware, and on occasion pear juice but she’s turning her head at all the pureed delicacies she used to enjoy. I hope she’s not developing some infant eating disorder because I can’t deal with this wasted food. She used to love avocado, so yesterday after a few Cheerios I gave her a bunch and she just took her hand and, I shit you not…threw it on the floor. She feeds the dog her Vanilla and Maple teething biscuits, and she refuses to finish her Chicken and Stars. FORGET about sweet potatoes and apple cinnamon granola. Just. Forget. It.
The only thing she wants to eat are apple strawberry star puffs, Cheerios in the morning only, and bananas. Normally at meal time I can cook while BabyWeird chows but now she has no patience for such a mind numbing activity such as eating. It’s driving me insane because I feel like I’m starving her, although I’m sure her formula [no breast her folks, well, not for BW anyway..] is filled with protein and well, there’s always the dogs food.
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