opening scene: interior: i am in the dining room feeding Hannie her dinner. kevin is in the kitchen doing lord knows what. i hear the water running and a pot go on the stove.

me: what are you doing in there? i thought we were just going to re-heat leftovers.

kevin: i’m boiling the nipples.

me: sounds like an awesome band name!

kevin: boiling nipples?

me: yeah! Live, this Saturday night, at the Five Points Music Hall it’s….BOILING NIPPLES!!!!

i proceed to headbang and chant BOILING NIPPLES! BOILING NIPPLES! to a death metal cadence, and throwing up my rock hands.

well, atleast i got a laugh from Hannie.

dear buddy,

this month we went on your first road trip. a twelve hour road trip. across three states. can you hear the tone of my voice in this kid? does it sound anything like i’m talking through clenched teeth? because i am. in all honesty you were the perfect traveler going up to lake toxaway, north carolina. you slept most of the way and when you were awake you were happy and playful. once we arrived at our destination you were immediately taken from me and i think i got to hold you once the entire weekend and that was only because i accidentally banged your chubby little legs on your stroller and you WAAAAILED. apparently when a baby is screaming everyone within a 100 yard radius scatters like cockroaches. wusses.

if i was to ever take another vacation not only would i bring your nana and grampa, but i’d bring The Grammas. this is a group of retired, RV’ing ladies who obviously do not get enough baby cheeks in their diet. you were constantly fussed over, snuggled, bounced, and burped. sadly none of these women were around on our trip home. the trip in which you whined for 5 hours. the only time you weren’t whining was when you had a bottle jammed in your face. that trip home made the entire trip to see your grandparents seem like we were being punished a la Waco tactical strategy. “i hope you had a great time being a weird and creepy cult, now listen to some Metallica at ear shattering decibels”.

you have single handedly set my amazement to all new highs. just this past week you’ve starting waving. mostly at anything that passes by but HOLY SHIT YOU’RE WAVING! this tiny human interaction blows my mind. you can’t talk but you are so expressive. whether you’re studying something so intently that your little tongue sloooowly creeps out the side of your mouth or you are laughing at the most ridiculous noises your father and i can make (in the Publix as we’re grocery shopping) or gobbling up a new food we try with you, you never cease to make life completely magical.

you have changed your night time schedule a bit, to the dismay of your father. he loved rocking you at night, letting you drift off in his arms. one day, out the blue, this was no longer acceptable. there was much grunting and flailing of arms. i tried rocking you, with the same result. you were becoming too independent. at the suggestion of the fantastic Dr. Richard Ferber (Solve Your Child’s Sleep Problems) after your bath and a bedtime story i put you in your crib with you pacifier and your lovey and you went right to sleep. no crying, no fussing, just dozed off. since then we have repeated the same method and most nights you put yourself to sleep. occasionally there is a bit of writhing and pacifier replacement but eventually you’ll get to the point “and she’s out”. now when you wake up you babble to yourself until i come and get you and sing the Good Morning song. you’ll look at me as if to say “mama, there you are! i knew you’d come and get me so i did some quartic equations while i waited!”.

buddy, you’ve grown into the daughter i always imagined. you’re happy, well adjusted, frustrating, bull-headed, and beautiful. you are incredibly loved and missed every day. i rush home at the end of every day just to see your smile and to make you giggle. i will make you the promise that at the end of every day i will kiss you and hug you and say i love you if you promise to give me your smile that makes my heart melt.

love,
mama

you rang?

hanging out on the front porch

going on a trip? i’m all you need!

let’s pray about something, grampa

HOORAY! NANA!

Grampa makes me giggle

you can’t be serious

it’s tough being this cute

Hanner Nanner,

are you looking for your 4 month newsletter? yeah, it’s not there. why? because mama is tired. so very, very tired. okay, not that tired, but let’s just say that i had better things to do. like smooshing your cheeks, reading you a story, keeping you fed, clean, and overall happy. i’m certainly not going to win Mother Of The Year anyway so i’m not going to pretend like i am one.

i think the most important news to be announced is that YOU CAN HEAR! why don’t we just take a moment to soak that nugget of information in, shall we? aaaaaaaaaaaaaah. your tubes did exactly what they were intended to do and that was to drain the fluid in your tiny little ears. the morning of your post-operative exam and audiologist appointment i think i swallowed a pint of vomit. my stomach was in complete knots. and though everyone on the planet was so incredibly certain that you would pass the hearing test i, being your mother, still had my concerns. we mothers are anxious like that. i think it gets pumped into the IV during birth. the audiologist sat us in the chair and placed the nodes in your ears and watched the computer graph read a symphony of peaks and valleys. i just stared at the back of your head and tried to not eat your peach-fuzz hair. she then said a sentence that i had been longing to hear since you were born: “she passed”. i bawled. as my big, fat tears were raining down your forehead you looked up and smiled. increase bawling. i apologized to the audiologist for snotting up the place. she nodded in approval and handed me a tissue. i immediately called your father and he said “see, i told you”. i’ve never wanted to punch someone so much before in my life. i danced all the way to the car and on the car ride home we listened to Modest Mouse.

you now have two teeth on your bottom row. the first is Fred. he’s a conservative republican that loves guns, pabst blue ribbon and hound dogs named Bocephus. he also likes to keep you up at all hours of the night, prodding your gums with his sharp head. there were two nights in particular that i would have given my right arm to get you to settle down. you were up every hour grunting and whining. i’ll address your whining in a moment, for now just know that when you are teething you’re not fun to be around. the second tooth is Betty Fine Collins. she is as much of an asshole as her namesake. just ask your father who slept in the recliner with you for three hours just so you would sleep. the amount of drool that comes from your mouth during teething is enough to keep the neighborhood in good lawn conditions. drought problem? here, have some drool.

so, back to the whining. it isn’t so much a whine as it is a fingernail on a chalkboard. eeeeehhhhhuuuuhhh. a guttural sound that makes my skin prickle and my eyeballs shoot from my head and dangle from the sockets. out of all the sounds you make, this is my least favorite. or couldn’t you tell? thankfully, the only time you are ever whiney is when you are tired or bored. i tend to spend my time with you avoiding those two instances. i’m forever trying to find new ways to make you laugh. oh, that sweet high pitched laughed. you laugh with your throat much like i do. kind of a cackle with a chortle aftertaste. if your laughter were a dessert it would be carrot cake.

this month we started you on solids. first rice cereal mixed with formula and then oatmeal with formula and finally sweet potatoes. oatmeal is by far your favorite. when i fed you sweet potatoes you shuddered with your whole body and emitted a sound akin to an emu who was dying from knife wound. a knife wound received from a gangfight in a Filipino baryo. solids has been an interesting ride. i’m still not sure what i’m doing half the time. it is pretty fun to watch you realize what your tongue can do. roll food around your mouth, blow raspberries, make “la la la aaaa goo” noises. i could listen to you all day long. as long as it isn’t that whining noise.

next month you will be half a year old and i will probably die of shock. but not before i eat your chubby legs. and maybe a yummy foot.

i love you puddin’ pants,
mama

Hannie, my love:

you turned 3 months old this week and to celebrate you got an awesome case of diarrhea. i’m always saying that it’s not a party unless you’re crapping your pants, so way to go kiddo! i think of all the time you’ve been on this planet this was my favorite and most heartbreaking month. you see, the minute i decided i had enough of this stay-at-home mom business and go back to work you simultaneously turned into an actual baby. with a personality! that can do things! and with 59% less fussiness! alas i went ahead with my plan to return to work and place you in day care. this decision that was made before you were born and one that i had no idea would turn me into a sobbing mess.

day care has been a blessing and a curse. you apparently have so much to see and do during the day that naps are of no consequence. thus, when your father picks you up in the afternoon you can barely keep your eyes open. the good part about this is that you have done so much during the day that you sleep like a champ. the downside is that i feel i have no quality time with you. it sometimes feels like a mad dash to get you into bed before you turn into a monster that resembles an infant version of The Incredible Hulk. baby, SMASH! i know that as you get older we’ll probably look back at this and laugh, “remember when we’d fight her to stay awake? yeah, that was hilarious! now where is that baby Ambien?” having you in daycare also makes me feel like a better mother. i’m more patient with you. when it was just you and i at home i would watch the clock and bite my nails until 5 p.m. when your father came home. i then would toss you in his arms, grab a beer from the fridge and sit on the back porch in utter silence for ten minutes. don’t get me wrong, being with you is awesome, but after 10 straight hours of feeding, rocking, changing, doing, talking, singing, swinging, looking, moving i was becoming a lunatic. now i come home, meet you with open arms and try to not let go until it’s time to go to bed.

you are quickly meeting many of your milestones. some are considered “advanced” for your age. you are blowing bubbles, holding your head up, bringing your hands together, and visually track moving objects. my favorite milestones though are your laugh and your ability to imitate sounds. when you start to become tired you make this noise that sounds like “diggle diggle diggle”. the first time you did it i laughed so hard i cried. this made you incredibly happy. now, i can say “diggle diggle diggle” and you will copy me. i will laugh and you will smile and i just want to smoosh you together and eat you up.

this month you will have tubes placed in your ears to drain the excess fluid that has been hindering your hearing tests since birth. this surgery is a source of great excitement and extreme anxiety for us. you are still responding to loud noises and the occasional words and though in my heart i know you can hear, this will give us the solace that we did what it took for you to hear your Grampa sing “Danny Boy”.

puddin’ pop, you are truly a remarkable and awe-inspiring human being. i’m amazed that your father and i created something so beautiful. not that we’re ugly people, mind you.

love,
mama

hi there, you.

they did what?!

i’m showing you my muscle

this kid is so happy, she smiles in her sleep

dear Hannie:

today is Mother’s Day and also the day you turn 2 months old. yeah, i wrote that on sunday. as you can tell having you around means that i do not get much done. the other day your daddy came home and the dishwasher was open, the cabinets were open, dishes were all over the counter. i had started to unload the dishwasher and you woke up for a feeding. you come first in this house. something that was a little hard to get used to as for the past 30 years i have been the center of attention. but, and i will say this a lot, you are totally worth it.

the past month has been hard on all of us. you have been filled with more radioactive material than most people are subjected to in a lifetime. barium swallow tests, barium enemas, x-rays, you name it, you went through it the past month. all in the search to find out why you were projectile vomiting on us and screaming your head off after each feeding. linda blair has nothing on you. after all these tests and no conclusive evidence of a digestive issue i, on a fluke, gave you Similac Isomil soy formula. within 24 hours you were a different kid. whether it was the formula or the fact that you had just turned 6 weeks old and thus your tummy was more mature, we’ll never know. i really don’t care. we were able to sleep for more than an hour at a time. your daddy and i no longer had to take shifts sitting up with you howling in pain. you were happy. we were happy.

although your tummy issues were resolved we still had another hurdle to overcome: your hearing. since birth you have not passed a single hearing test. we were referred to a pediatric ENT (the second opinion one) and he saw that you had an abnormal amount of fluid in your ears. while this isn’t uncommon in babies and usually resolves itself i was a nervous wreck. would you ever hear my voice? your Grampa’s singing? your daddy’s terrible taste in music? i cried for days prior to the fluid diagnosis. once we received the news that this is treatable i suddenly became calm. we would get through this. look, if we have to endure your Grampa’s German drinking songs, so do you. as it stands we are waiting on one more audiologist appointment to determine if tubes will be necessary. however, as i type this i just coughed and CHRIST ON BIKE YOU STARTLED! something you haven’t done since you’ve come into this world. there is hope after all. if not, i am certain that i will have fun learning how to teach you to sign “poop”.

medical issues aren’t the only thing we have experienced with you. this month you are more alert and interactive. you’re not just some fetal blob that lies around the house. you smile a smile that resembles a toothless old lady. and it melts my heart every time. when you smile or grin or coo at us i know that we are doing something right. after a bottle we will sit you on your boppy or playmat and “talk”. our little conversations are usually me making funny noises or faces and you staring intently and randomly gurgling in agreement that “yes, mama, you are completely insane”. your happiness is right in sync with your grumpiness. by god, we better have a bottle sitting at the ready when you are hungry. if not you will whimper and then begin a shit storm of screaming that turns your face purple. i have a feeling that this is a precursor to you holding your breath and stomping your feet because holy lord we didn’t buy you that Polly Princess piece of crap at the grocery store. not that i would know anything about that.

sleeping for you is not that bad. once you are asleep you stay asleep. it is the getting you down part that is a killer. for the first two months you would only sleep in your swing seat placed in our bed. recently we have begun transitioning you to the pack-n-play bassinet in our room. i can’t tell you how wonderful it is to not be smacked in the face by a rogue swing in the middle of the night. eventually we will move you to that expensive wood structure in your room that we use as storage. i think it is called a “crib”.

you are growing in leaps and bounds and i can’t wait to see what the next month brings. i’m hoping it will be longer sleep stretches at night. or a case of beer.

love,
mama

napping with daddy

why yes, i am damn adorable

Sister Mary Elephant

i have two tickets to the gun show

you’re yawning just looking at this photo, aren’t you?

andy rooney look-a-like

yay! a car ride!

the look i get when i try to explain why Grampa is a Republican

our dear friend Kristie of KP Studios came to the house when Hannie was 10 days old to take some photos of her. after a very poopy start Hannie settled down and the following images were captured.

Kristie did a fantastic job and was so sweet with Hannie. i can’t wait to have more photos taken of her!

being pregnant has brought about the oddest series of comments from random strangers. and of all the people you would expect a little sympathy another pregnant woman completely blindsided me this weekend. kevin and i attended a football party at a friend’s house and i was introduced to a lovely blonde who was 21 weeks into her pregnancy. she inquired as to how far along i was and when i stated 16 weeks she told me “i’m more pregnant than you are”.

wait, did i walk into a gestation competition? will there be jello wrestling?

who in the hell says that? this isn’t a pissing contest. or in my case a i-haven’t-pooped-in-ten-days contest. when i brought up this woman’s comment to dmoney she said that the woman was probably just comparing the fact that her child is no longer a “manatee” and is more of an actual baby now. while this justification got me through the next hour of the evening i went home a stewed that it was still a completely inappropriate comment. even if this woman meant that her child is more developed than mine i have to reiterate that WHO THE FUCK CARES?! congratulations, you get to experience the miracle of childbirth five whole weeks before i do. they should give her a cookie, or a medal, or a swift punch in the tit.

and just for comparison purposes, this is the Manatee! at the time of this tete-a-tete:

and crazee ladee’s baby:

oh yes, i see the differences. while the Manatee! is still kind of skinny and would quickly be signed as a top runway model, her baby will be sitting at a fat camp snarfing cheetos and wondering why her mother is an unapologetic douchebag

remember the bone crushing exhaustion i spoke about in the last post? apparently it also causes you to forget that you once gave a shit about all the things you used to give a shit about. like blogging! and posting photos! and doing stuff other than lying in bed pretending you are the first person ever to be pregnant. because my brain has taken on the consistency of my recent craving (Campbell’s bean with bacon soup) i’ll distract you with shiny things! or just some crummy photos.

look! a bump! or it could be all of the aforementioned soup i’ve been consuming. 15 weeks, suckas!

and because i’m in a giving mood, here is another belly shot. stay tuned to next week when i showcase the enormity that are my boobs.

brock had some nasty, smelly tumors removed from his ear about a month ago. apparently they could do nothing about the other 15 pounds of him.

these are kev’s evil dead figurines that stand sentinel on his desk. i assume to give him inspiration when he’s doing our monthly household budget.

this picture is really for my dad, the biggest Alabama University fan i know. roll tide, daddy!

so far this pregnancy has been typical. and by typical i mean awful. that pregnancy glow they talk about, yeah it’s nothing but your skin becoming an oil slick akin to a 13 year old’s face. fatigue? i laugh in the face of that word. bone-crushing exhaustion is a better description. my day involves me working eight hours, eating every three hours, coming home and eating some more, and then falling into a coma with nightmarish dreams. oh, and the cherry on top of this oily, bloated, acne-ed, sleep deprived mound of flesh: i signed up for this shit.

please, for the love of all that is holy don’t call or email me and laugh knowingly and say “oh you silly child with your ten hour sleep a night, it gets so much worse”. frankly i don’t think i could handle that comment and neither could you. because i will come to your house and kick you in the mouth with one of my swollen feet.

and where is kevin in all this gestational wonderment? doting lovingly on his crazed wife. he has become “that husband” sans rushing out to buy a quart of ice cream and pickles. no, he is a smart man who stocks the fridge with every culinary delight my hormonal body can think of.

now, where did i put that tub of cream cheese and pork rinds?

i suck, i know! if blogging gave out citations for not blogging i’d be in prison for unpaid fines. but i have a good excuse. you’ll laugh when you hear the story. and then we’ll be best friends again only until i go another month without writing and then you’ll call me drunk and want to break up. (more…)