Keeping Perspective

Dear Diary,

Quick update here just to say that we did the crib thing on Friday night, and Edwin stood up in it and cried for three hours, never once getting close to going to sleep. THREE HOURS. I gave up, obviously. I know, I know, I should have stuck it out, am bad parent, blah blah blah. But Saturday he developed a cold and had a fever last night so I knew there was no way any crib sleeping was going on. So, putting it off another week...

I have to remember that there are many worse problems my baby could have than not sleeping in his crib. It feels like such a big deal to me but really, I should count my blessings. Because look! He is healthy and cute.


Love,
Fluffy

Line em up

Dear Diary,

Edwin is in his crib for a nap right now. In order for him not to scream much like one might if one were possessed by satan, I have to trick him and lay him in there after he has fallen asleep in my arms. When he wakes up and realizes he's been duped, he screams much like one might if one were possessed by satan. Not an ideal situation by any means. But we haven't started formal sleep/crib training yet (soon! we will start soon!) and I don't want to spend my whole morning and afternoon getting him to fall asleep in his crib. Right? Right.

And about the sleep training. I don't mention the sleeping "problem" much anymore, because it's not so much his problem as it is ours. He has no problem; he sleeps great. He's got a VIP room at the Radisson with turndown service and a free, self-replenishing mini bar. I'm the one with the problem. I know that teaching him to sleep in his crib will result in some satan-like screaming and writhing and pathetic red-faced pleas for MAMAMAMAMAMA!!! and I just can't take it. I'm too lazy to be consistent, especially because I know that bringing him into our bed will result in peaceful sleep for all of us. And that face, when he stands up in his crib and that red little tear-stained face is begging, BEGGING me to pick him up and console him... I just don't have it in me. "Steely resolve" is not one of my attributes.

Everyone has something that worked for their kid. And it seems like many parents forget how horrible it was, the road their baby had to take to reach independent sleep. We haven't found that something yet that works, and the few times I've tried to get him to sleep in there are burned in my memory.

No point here, really. Except that we need to sleep train Edwin. I am not the "family bed" type and I never intended him to sleep with us at all, let alone for 9 months. And I'm not looking forward to it and I've been putting it off for months. The BHE poo poos the use of any particular "method", arguing that all babies are different, they are not dogs you can train and no doctor really knows what the hell they're talking about with regards to sleep issues. He's the one who's probably going to end up doing it, the "training", while I sit at the corner bar and drink margaritas.

These babies.

Love,
Fluffy

Coupla Pics

I realize now that the look here with his polo shirt and sweat shorts evokes a sort of jock vibe that I assure you I was not going for.




"Oh mama, you say that to ALL the babies..."


Love,
Fluffy

slow summah

Dear Diary,

Edwin is most definitely living up to his Mad Man nickname of late. I blame it on his second front tooth, which is being a total douche by refusing to descend and making him angry and bitey. He is really letting me have it when I try to steer him away from something dangerous, or pry something dangerous out of his fat little fist (like my beer). He looks right at me and screeches in a most menacing fashion. I could also blame it on the fact that he has not pooped since Friday, despite several blueberry smoothies and mango purees. That would probably make me mad as well.

In other news, my whole family is all over the globe currently, while we Windovers hold down the fort in boring old City B. Though we are heading to the beach in August, where there will doubtless be much sand eating.

I got nothin' else, so here are some photos.

Edwin with cousins Allison and Brooke.

Edwin with Brooke and her brother Robbie.


Lounging poolside.
Regaling me with tales of the high seas.


Right before he attacked me and then smashed my camera.

Love, Fluffy

How. How?

Dear Diary,

Someone please tell me how one is to get any housework done when one has a 9-month old. My particular 9-month old is very much with the crawling warp speed toward dangerous things, and the pulling up on unstable furniture (including the dogs), and when not doing either of those things he is clinging to me and sobbing pathetically when I put him down. I thought I would get more things done around the house being home with him more, but that is really not the case. Well, I was able to sweep today, at least, having temporarily distracted Edwin with by letting him play with a narrow, wrought-iron plant stand turned on its side. (Best toy ever, apparently. Better than the broom, which was his first choice.)

It is amazing how much he has changed just in the last month. With the crawling and standing and eating graham crackers and using a sippy cup. And the teeth! With the biting.

More later. This man wants to play, and the trash can, while I'm sure amusing, is just not what I had in mind.

love, fluffy

Paralyzed

Dear Diary,

Right now I am ALONE in my house. I took Edwin to daycare and stayed home from work so that I can clean in anticipation of my mother-in-law's arrival later today. I have a list of things to do. Baking cookies is on the list! So is cleaning the toilet. All the things that are nearly impossible to do with Edwin around. So far I have:

- made coffee
- moved some piles of paper onto other piles of paper
- waited for my slow computer to download pictures
- called the BHE and lamented our lack of shelves in the office/guestroom
- sat and stared into space, completely overwhelmed by this free time and all its possibilities

Also, there is the guilt for taking him to daycare while I am home. I think I will get into the groove here soon. I need to focus on something manageable: the prospect of doing all the things that don't get done is too much and is paralyzing me with inactivity.

Anyway. Edwin has been quite the man about town lately, as evidenced by the following photos.

Here he is with Jack McD

Baby face-off with Jack McD...


Edwin is hip to his scam.

"Hey, buddy..."

"You wanna be pals? OK, then back off my teething thingie.


"Alright, we're cool."

Last week we went to a baby sing-along with my friend Minnie and her son, Jude. As you can see, the boys were WAY too cool for this scene. Jude's all, "Oh my god, I can't believe our moms are singing these insipid songs. This is so embarrassing. Let's get the hell outta here." Edwin's all, "Dude, I don't even know what to say."


I should also mention that he and Sophie, the 10-month old from his swim class, have become quite close. The instructor asked last week if they were on a date. They were holding hands. It was srsly cute.

OK! I must clean!

Love,
Fluffy

Caturday

Dear Diary,

Edwin's fever did finally break last week (thanks to everyone for sharing their own terrifying infant illness stories! This parenthood thing, it really does a number on one's nerves.) But right after that, he developed a disgusting cough and snotty nose. He's fine now; just lousy with snot and coughing like he's been smoking pall malls for 30 years. In fact, everyone at daycare has the same cough, so it sounds like an AA meeting over there. What with all the smokers.

Today we are determined to go to swim class. It was cancelled last week (and Edwin was sick anyway). I'm sure that he will hate it. Ever since our first swim class, he has developed a STRONG dislike for the bath. This new water aversion is troubling, because kid gets dirty and also it is almost summer and he will play in the baby pool while mama works on her tan and he will LIKE IT.

Oh, and I have requested to cut down my hours at work to 3 days a week. I cannot handle this working pretty much full time thing. We will be poor, yes, but actually we spend so much less money now on drinking and going out that it almost works out. Almost.





Love,
Fluffy

Striken: Part Eight Hundred

Dear Diary,

The poor mad man has been sick with a fever since Thursday. I took him to the doc on Friday, hoping he had an ear infection so that he'd get his antibiotics and be all better. But, no. The doctor was all, "Huh. I dunno... probably a virus. But he's breathing a little fast, so keep an eye out for [insert list of vague but scary symptoms]. OK, have a great weekend!" Riiiiiiight.

So since then we've been totally freaking out, obsessively watching his breathing and taking his temperature (in between doses of ibuprofen). For Edwin's part, he's mostly been happy and playing, except when his fever goes up, when he whimpers and pants and generally scares the shit out of everyone.

I call shenanigans on this fever, and I call shenanigans on whatever foreign intruder is invading my precious boy's little baby body. Cease and desist!

Any comments about how babies get fevers for several days and wind up just fine are welcome and even encouraged. Kthx.

Love,
Fluffy

Happy Mother's Day to ME

Dear Diary,

It is my first Mother's Day, and I got to sleep until 7:40! It was luxurious. The BHE and Edwin made me a card, and we are going on a picnic today. Edwin's interest in the great outdoors is considerable, so hopefully he will enjoy it.

In other news, this week Edwin discovered his... cash and prizes. His meat and 2 veg. His bits and pieces. His twig and berries. (Should I go on? Because I could.) Now when we change his dipes, he immediately grabs for his junk. Even if it is covered in poop. Especially if it is covered in poop. Now I know why my friend J always offered her son a toy to play with on the changing table. But besides his junk, his 3 favorite toys right now are, in this order: 1) the remote 2) my cell phone 3) my glasses (only when they are on my face, natch). Did I mention the stapler? That's a favorite as well.

Also, he cut his first tooth a couple weeks ago. Also, his swim class went OK. He did not expose my breasts to the entire class, so that was a plus. He didn't love it, but he didn't exactly hate it. Also, I work for a government contractor and our contract is up for rebid and part of me (OK, most of me) hopes we don't get it and that I get laid off. Is that wrong? Seriously though, I just want to hang out with this guy all day. Wouldn't you?


Love,

Fluffy

Srsly?

Why are we doing this again?

Dear Diary,

This morning we are taking the boss to his first baby swim class at the YMCA. This seemed like a great idea, until I started thinking about a bunch of babies in a pool with their questionable swimmy diapers, crapping and snotting and drooling all over the place. Also, what if I drop him and he drowns????? Not to mention, he'll probably hate being in the pool and claw my face off trying to get away. And let's not forget that he will DEFINITELY expose my breasts to the entire class, what with his habit of yanking my shirt off and grabbing at my boobs all the time.

We're only doing it for the photo op. He has THE cutest swim trunks and bathrobe. Pics to follow (though hopefully not my mugshot for indecent exposure.)

Mother of the Year,
Fluffy

!

Dear Diary,

Not much new to report. Except! Edwin is 7 months old and is sitting up! Our bathroom is almost done and looks beautiful, and though we can't use the shower yet we CAN use the toilet. Also, not being able to use the shower has necessitated my taking nighttime baths, which turns out is rather luxurious. I sit in there and call out to the BHE periodically, "I'm almost done!" when I'm totally not almost done.

Here are a couple of Edwin pics, since I really have nothing funny or interesting to say.

Totally not feeling the wagon thing.


This is the face that our daycare provider calls "Muffin Man".


Helping with laundry.

My sweet baby biceps. Let me show you them.

Love, Fluffy

She's a Laaaaaaady

Dear Diary,

Can we talk about Kyra Sedgwick, and why she's prancing about in an orange juice commercial? And how the camera never focuses on her face quite long enough for you to be really sure it's her? (It is.)

If she's embarrassed about having to do orange juice commercials (as she should be), why doesn't she just go to Japan like everyone else? For example, Nicholas Cage.

Love,
Fluffy

Update

Dear Diary,

I have been at my parents' house in suburbia for nearly two weeks while our bathroom is under renovation. And to answer Cindy, yes, we did pick out new tile for the shower. But we loved the original 1930's subway tile so much, we just replaced it with new subway tile. Basically it will look the same, only less disgusting! And less likely to fall off. The subway tile covered the entire room, but we replaced it with wainscot in the interest of fiscal responsibility and maintenance. We really wanted to keep the original art deco bath/shower hardware, but our contractor said it had to go. I found something similar to the old stuff, for only $800! Um, no. So we chose something less vintage that will still look OK, I think. Here it is!

More later, gotta go feed the mad man. Who, by the way, eats his weight in solid food at daycare but will not eat one bite if I am here and instead grabs at my boobs. This may become problematic during his birthday parties.

Love,

Fluffy

Behind

Dear Diary,

I am behind on everything, always, as usual. Laundry, writing, work, socializing, cleaning, blah. In other news our bathroom broke and we have to get it redone and we only have one shower so we need to move in with my parents temporarily. I am actually looking quite forward to it; I will be telecommuting while my mom takes care of the mad man.

In other other news, I have reason to believe there is another breast-pumping lady at my work. I feel like we should be friends or something, but she looks like really not my type. Is having babies a similar age and milking yourself at work so you can feed them enough to have in common for a friendship? She really can't dress.

Love,
Fluffy

No Time for Anything, Ever

Dear Diary,

I am taking a mental health day with Edwin. We got up late and he was miserable with the teething (come ON already, you bastard tooth!) Yesterday I was really missing him and not being productive at work so today I decided to throw in the towel on the whole working charade and stay home with him.

Right now he is tummy timin' with some soft toys.



Here he is last weekend, with his baby friend Jack McD. I like this picture because Edwin kind of looks like a badass.


Here he is reading with the BHE. Don't worry, I don't actually think he can read. He's too busy composing music.


And finally, here is an excellent article about breastfeeding. I should be writing articles as well, but I have little time to do so. Turns out I am too lazy to be a freelance writer! Who knew.

Love,
Fluffy

Furthermore

Dear Diary,

It may appear from the pictures of Edwin here that he never smiles. This is not true! He just refuses to be our trained monkey and smile for the camera. So here are a couple pics of him smiling, just to prove that he isn't, like, emo baby.




Love,
Fluffy

BANG(s)

Dear Diary,

Here are my bangs.


I am already tired of them, but that's just how I roll. Since my hair is wavy, they must be beaten into submission , and that cuts into my morning Edwin snuggling time. But, it is nice to not have to look at my forehead anymore.

Edwin is ASLEEP IN HIS CRIB right now (it is 8:00 p.m.). This is a very big deal. Tonight he even fell asleep on his own (I put him in the crib awake, then lay on the floor of his nursery like a homeless person until he fell asleep). Usually he screams bloody murder if we put him in there awake, but tonight he just drifted off without crying. I am sure this is just a fluke; the universe just toying with me, trying to get my hopes up only to dash them tomorrow night. I will not fall for it! There is no way this is the start of a new trend.

OK. I'm going to go stare at the baby monitor and wait for him to wake up, as he is bound to within the next 20 minutes.

Love,
Fluffy

She bangs.

Dear Diary,

So I did it; I got the bangs. I'll post a picture later, maybe. The one I took already is "bad" and "weird", according to the BHE. Sorry dude, but that's just what I look like!

Love,
Fluffy

Also, I have a neverending cold.

Dear Diary,

I would like to take this opportunity to ask the weather to stop being such a douche. I have really had it with this winter; I am actually angry at it. The BHE thinks it's funny that I often become angry at inanimate objects. But I'm willing to argue that this particular winter in City B actually has a personality, the kind that comes to your party, spills red wine everywhere and then tries to make out with your boyfriend.

Also, apparently this morning I had a sign on my back that said, "Tell me about your ovaries!" It started with a coworker who let me know that she was ovulating and that I should keep my fingers crossed. I understand wanting to get pregnant, and I wish her the best and everything, but I'm not really sitting at my desk thinking about her egg and her husband's sperm working it all out. Next was another coworker who told me she was going through "the change" and how she is so sweaty all the time that she had to buy special night gowns made of hemp or bamboo or charcoal or something. Um, gross.

Also, my kid will not eat vegetables. We gave him green beans the other night and you'd think I had poured acid in the face the way he reacted. I guess it's not all that unusual for a 5-month old, but I just don't want him to be that kid who refuses to eat vegetables. He is already that kid who won't take a bottle, won't take a nap, and won't sleep in his crib for more than 20 minutes at a time. Can he AT LEAST be a good eater? Sigh.



Doing everything wrong always,
Fluffy

Self-Promotion of the Shameless Variety

Dear Diary,

So. I just started writing for this local website as the "New Mom Examiner". I think their criteria for writers must be very, very lax. But anyway, here is the link in case you want to read my stuff. It is local to City B, so probably not that interesting if you're not local. Also, probably not that interesting if you are local. You will learn my real name on this page; please don't stalk me. Ha, I flatter myself.

What else has been going on? Lots of not sleeping, some teething (in Edwin's case), some eating of bananas and avocados and sweet potatoes, some buying of spring/summer wardrobes for certain babies (omfg BABY BATHING SUIT nom nom nom).

On the sleep front, we tried the crying it out method this weekend to get the Boss to sleep in his crib. We let him cry scream in there for an hour, and I have never felt so bad about anything ever. So, long, emotionally devastating story short: this method does not and will not work for our family. So back to square... zero?

OK, coupla pics.

Serious composer baby is SERIOUS



I like to call this look "baby blue gangsta".

Love,
Fluffy

Tally Me Banana

Dear Diary,

The news:

1. The Boss ate some bananas this morning. First real food! This is immensely exciting, as it will eventually lead to him leaving my boobs alone at night.

2. We started calling Edwin the Boss. He is the worst boss ever; I asked him for a raise and he tried to take off my shirt.

3. Why is John Turturro doing Heineken commercials?

4. I may (may) have scored a sort of writing gig. Not sure yet, I'll keep you posted. The only problem is that this gig may involve me writing about doing things with a baby in City B, and we don't do anything so that might pose a problem.

5. We will be seeing both sets of grandparents this weekend.

6. I want to get bangs. Thoughts?

Love, Fluffy

Stricken

Dear Diary,

The BHE and I have both succumbed to the illness that plagued the mad man last weekend. And let me tell you, it is no picnic. I thought taking care of a sick baby was rough, but taking care of a healthy baby when YOU are sick is way worse. Mercifully, he took a long nap yesterday afternoon so that I could get some rest. But for the most part, he doesn't seem to understand that I don't feel well and don't have the energy to play "up and down" all day. This is his new favorite game, and it involves me holding him up over my head and saying, "Up!" then bringing him down and saying, "And Down." Much hysterical laughter ensues on his part and soreness of arms on my part.

Anyway. Why can't someone pay me to stay home and take care of Edwin? Not clear on that. My job is getting me down. Some days it's great, but some days it is the suck. I have a new boss who is a total douchebag. Well, he is a nice guy, I guess, but he is not so much with the offering of flexible schedules for mothers of young babies who sometimes need to be picked up early from daycare because of the hunger striking.

So I'm having a bit of a professional crisis. I suppose it's more of a financial crisis though, because if we could afford it I would quit right now. But then we'd be so poor we'd probably have to live in a tent, and that might be awkward what with all the dogs.

Love,
Fluffy

The Happs

Dear Diary,

This weekend started out fantastic. Here I am at the hair salon at 10:00 AM Saturday, with a Star magazine and a glass of wine. Did I mention 10 AM?

That's right: she offered casually; I accepted (probably with way too much enthusiasm), and there was no judgement or guilt on anyone's part. I told her I had a four-month old at home who is a nocturnal nurser and that I hadn't had my hair done since I was 8 months pregnant. I was probably babbling incoherently and might have had spit up in my hair, so she felt sorry for me and busted out the old chardonnay. In short, I was happy.

Then when I got home the mad man started coughing a little, he was still happy and playing and everything so, I wasn't too concerned.

But as the evening wore on he became increasingly fussy, sneezy, snotty, coughy and generally miserable.

Which required much cuddle time with his mommy and daddy.

Then when we went to bed poor little fella developed a fever (only 101, but still... general panic and guilt on my part for having him in daycare).

Anyway it was a long night, but today he seems happy and the fever is down, and he is playing and cooing and laughing as usual. And! A 40 minute nap in his swing which has allowed me to write this post.

Also. We got one of those little digital camcorders and have been recording him doing... nothing. You know, just being cute. But don't be surprised if I subject you all to footage of my baby doing nothing and being cute. You've been warned.

Also. When I went to the hair salon she somehow convinced me to dye my eyebrows a little darker to "bring out my eyes." But I kind of look... like Uncle Leo, if you're a Seinfeld fan. But my hair turned out pretty good. I would post a picture, but I'm not feeling cute enough after being up most of the night with a sick baby.

Also, isn't breastfeeding supposed to prevent this sort of thing? Why do I have my tits hanging out constantly if he's still going to catch nasty viruses? I guess it could be worse.

Looking forward to when I can finally put away my tittays,

Fluffy

BRB

Our little Ghandi is hunger striking at daycare and making up for it at night. All night. Every night. So no sleep for me.

love, fluffy

Part Timer

Dear Diary,

Today is the first day of my new part-time work schedule. From now on I can pretend to be a stay-at-home mom on Mondays. We may venture to the little kiddie sing-along at the local coffee shop. Because, you know, Edwin just loves to sing. And he loves... coffee. Anyway, I'm thinking maybe I can meet other moms that way.

But it is a tricky business, this reaching out to meet other parents. Because what if you can't stand these people, and your kids become best friends? Then you're stuck hanging out with the kid's mom constantly, who may turn out to be into scrapbooking. Or worse. The possibilities are frightening. But it has to be done. I need to connect with other mothers with nearly 4 month old babies who refuse to nap unless physically attached to a parent, who will only sleep at night when curled up right next to mom (and no, mom cannot watch TV or read at bedtime), and who have no tolerance for being put down whatsoever. Welcome to attachment parenting gone horribly wrong.

Anyone? (Parents with babies who take nice long naps every day and who sleep through the night in their cribs can suck it and need not apply.)

Love,

Fluffy

P.S. - We had a very active holiday season, including Edwin getting some Jesus all up on him. Holy baptized baby, batman! And yes, that is a fruity little lace baptismal cap he's wearing. It's a family heirloom, and the pictures will come in handy for embarrassment purposes later on.

Beam Me Up, Scotty

Dear Diary,

I guess I'd better post before the insanity of the holidays really sets in, and while my son, who is actually a "never-nap", is in his crib for the charade we like to call nap time.

We are heading down to Colonial Williamsburg for Christmas (that's where my MIL lives) and yes, totally buying Edwin a tri-cornered hat.

In other news, here he is in his captain's chair.



This high chair had been sitting in the box it came in since my baby shower, and looking at it the other day I discovered that he did not have to be able to sit up on his own to use it. I was like wait, you mean I could have been neglecting him THIS WHOLE TIME?? So we set that bad boy up toot sweet. He seems to enjoy it; he sat in there for like 40 minutes yesterday watching me bake banana bread.

And here he is in our bed, which is pretty much where he sleeps for the time being, since he has outgrown the basinette and refuses to sleep in his crib. He was totally cracking up during this photo shoot. He thinks it's hilarious that we expect him to start sleeping in his crib starting next week. Hilarious, I tell you. Actually, he probably thinks that we're the ones who will start sleeping in his crib so that he gets the big bed all to himself.

Love,

Fluffy

BEAR SUIT

Dear Diary,

OMFG it's a bear!

Anyway. See the beautiful quilt upon which this ferocious beast is poised? A woman we don't even know made that for Edwin. Some old lady friend of the BHE's mom or something. Amazing how people go crazy for babies, no?

And since I promised some workplace material... you may remember me mentioning the unattractive Briton? The one with the face like a bullfrog? Well, I had another unfortunate run-in with her last week. She already hates me, and now she thinks I'm trying to kill her.

I was driving into the parking garage at work, talking to my friend JH on the phone. Yeah, yeah, I know. I totally gab on my cell phone while I'm driving. I know I shouldn't; get off my back. It's not illegal here yet. Anyway, JH was talking about another gal we know, and described her as a "greedy cunt". This, of course, sent me into gales and gales of laughter because... who talks like that? Aren't we all adults here? Apparently not. Anyway, the bullfrog was hopping out into the traffic of the parking garage at precisely this moment. So I had to kind of slam on my brakes, but I was throwing my head back in laughter at the same time. So it didn't look good. But seriously lady-- play Frogger in the arcade, not the parking garage. K? thx.

Don't even get me started on Sullen Fat Girl. That's a story for later.

Love,

Fluffy

So there.

Dear Diary,

Last night I was even more selfish than usual and met my friend, Mrs. P, for a happy hour drink. Anyway, I thought the mad man and the BHE could use some quality time.

We went here. This place is so great. If you live in City B, please go because it's one of precious few decent bars in my neighborhood and I don't want it to close. And, AND! We joined their beer league. That's right. They have a very large selection of beers and if you drink every one of them (not in one sitting, obviously, though I'm sure if you did they would put your name on a plaque or something), you join the beer league. I'm not sure what happens when you join; I think you get to drink out of a boot or something? Anyway, it seemed very official. The bartender wrote our names in a book! I had the Guinness and the Anchor Steam! It will probably take me like a year to join the league, but I enjoy a challenge.

In other news, did I mention that I am super mom? I feel that I am juggling my career and motherhood just fine, thank you very much. The mad man seems to like daycare and I am enjoying being back at work. Frankly, I'm tired of people acting like I must be just dying inside. Really, it's OK. This is what I am doing for my family and it's all fine. If you had to do it for your family, you could do it too. And lest you think that I am some insensitive, heartless robot, please be assured that I love my kid just as much as anyone else loves their kids.

Love,
Supermom Fluffy, who is turning down the free ride on the mommy guilt train.

Big Date Night

Dear Diary,

This weekend the BHE and I went out to my company Christmas party while my folks babysat the mad man. Poor little guy picked up the sniffles somewhere, so I was too worried about him to have any kind of good time. I didn't even DRINK (open bar!!!!! I got a drink, a Kettle One on the rocks, and had like one sip then put it down. This time last year, I would have drunk that, then another, then whatever the BHE was drinking, then convinced him to take me out for drinks afterwards, then gone to 7-11 at 2 AM to get a quarter pound big bite slathered with chili and cheese. How times change.). Also, my feet hurt from wearing high heels and I was so tired from having to chew with my mouth closed and stand up straight all night.

Here we are, pre-party. We both look totally insane in this picture; it's that special kind of insane enjoyed by those with sleep deprivation.

Here is the mad man, starting to think wait a second, that lady with the boobs thinks she's gonna dump me on Grandma and Grandpa for the night...

Today he is not feeling great, and had been sleeping a little long for my taste, so I did the only thing that I know is a fail-safe way to wake him up.

I put him in his crib. It's like magic; he was awake within 2 minutes.

I know, I know. Something is very wrong here. I'll worry about it later.

Love,
Fluffy

Back to the Grind

Dear Diary,


Today was my first day back at the office. Everything went down OK. The mad man did pretty well at daycare. I was able to pump a bottle at lunchtime in a vacant room in the basement (glamorous, yes?) I missed him but when I picked him up he was all, "Whatever, lady. Less fawning, more boobs." And he did not smile for me not even once when we got home, then of course when the BHE walked in it was like the freaking circus came to town.


So, being back at work is reminding me of how much of a germophobe I am. I don't think I touched one door handle in that joint the whole time I was pregnant, and I ain't starting now. Don't even get me started about the snot-nosed toddlers at daycare. . Yes yes, I'm glad you like Edwin but please DO NOT TOUCH HIM WITH YOUR GRIMY TODDLER MITS! He is really into shoving his hands into his mouth right now. Good thing he is a little slow on the grabbing of objects so far.


But anyway. It was a pretty good day. I got to drink coffee and talk to adults. Though I'm sure I made no sense because I'm totally brain dead because Edwin was up every 1.5 hours last night. WTF? Good thing he is cute.






Love,

Fluffy