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]]>A few days ago you turned 11 months old. It's hard to believe a year ago we were freaking out getting ready for your arrival. The last month has been a whirlwind for both of us. We stepped into a new world of independence, with me working full time and you going to daycare. The night before my first full day at the office I found it very difficult to put you to bed. I couldn't help but think that I wouldn't see you the next morning, or most mornings, from here on out. Mornings were some of my favorite times with you, laying in bed, eating, napping. You are always the happiest in the mornings, and I couldn't help but cry a bit, knowing I'd be missing all of that.
But things have gotten much better in the last month. Your babysitter, Analiesa, and her baby girl have taken very good care of you. After a rocky first week, we both seem to be hitting our stride. We spend our afternoons together and I make sure my weekends are solely devoted to you. Saturday mornings are now my favorite time. You should see the look on your face when I walk into your bedroom on Saturday morning. Pure joy. You make me feel so fantastic in those moments.
As for you, you're still doing all of that growing up you insist on doing. You've added another tooth and 5 years worth of attitude. You have begun dancing, literally waving your hands in the air like you just don't care. Lucy, you are so street. Gangsta, even. You've also taken some tentative first steps on your own, though you still would rather crawl, as it's much faster.
Lucy, this month has been exhausting. As I'm typing this, I'm also editing a video of you for a mother's day gift, creating your b-day invites and attempting to make home-made mother's day cards. Why am I doing all of this on a Saturday night? Because every moment you're awake, I want to spent it with you. Even though we're apart more often, the times we are together are incredible. I appreciate our relationship so much more now that's it's not as easy to maintain. I love you, little monkey. I know you love me. I can tell when I pick you up from daycare and your wrap your arms tightly around me. You've missed me, but you know I will always be here for you.
Love,
Mama
I stabbed myself in the toe with a chopping knife. My really nice chopping/dicing knife I got for Christmas. My knife that is super-duper sharp.
It did not feel good.
Then today I woke up an HOUR late for work (I blame it on the traumatic stabbing), so I hobbled in with no makeup and wet hair. Thankfully I go to work pretty early so no one was around to see me drag myself in. And it's raining. And my toe is brownish, purplish. And I can't bend it.
Boo.
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Pics from newly discovered site 3191 A Year of Mornings. Extremely cool concept.
]]>Actually, the new job isn't that bad, borderline fun, and, so far, the people I work with seem to be fairly normal and friendly. Very unlike the last job with the crazy cat people and the co-workers who didn't feel the need to wear undergarmets or shower. And all of the yelling. And the 4 a.m. phone calls. But I digress.
The last few weeks I spent alot of time in orientations and meetings, attempting to figure out how I fit into an already-established infrastructure. I've also had to relearn about a million usernames and passwords. But there is one username that I use to login to several programs. This user name was created before I even arrived on site and it's the first four letters of your first name and the first two letters of your last.
MEGAPE
And it's all in caps. I originally read it as MEGA-PE (as in pee pee in the potty), but last night Trent pointed out that it really said MEG APE.
Awesome.
]]>"That's OK about the wedding. Please don't just send Trent. He might perform some sort of LAN miracle and upstage me, and that's the last thing I want."
]]>But I can understand Steve Martin. Because he is funny. And weirdly hot (I know, totally gross). And reminds me of my dad (again, I know I said he was hot and now I'm saying he reminds me of my dad...Freud would have a field day with that one!). And did I mention funny?
A selection:
Several years ago, In California, I ate my first clam and said it tasted "like a gonad dipped in motor oil." I would like to apologize to Bob 'n' Betty's Clam Fiesta, and especially to Bob, who I found out later had only one testicle. I would like to apologize to the waitress, June, and her affiliates, and to the DePaul family dog, who suffered the contents of my nauseated stomach.
Once, in Hawaii, I had sex with a hundred-and-two-year-old male turtle. It is hard to argue that it was consensual. I would like to apologize to the turtle, his family, the Kahala Hilton Hotel, and the hundred or so diners who were eating at the Hilton's outdoor café. I would also like to apologize to my loyal wife Karen, who had to endure the subsequent news item in the "Also Noted" section of the Santa Barbara Women's Club Weekly.
Read more here.
]]>Now I've officially started my new job and am attempting to balance being a worker bee and being a mama. It's hard. Just in case you didn't know. Really hard.
On top of that, after many technical difficulties and issues with Movable Type (my publishing platform), we here at Crazybananas headquarters have decided to migrate this site to different system, Wordpress. This has, of course, caused so many technical errors my brain just may explode out of my ears, including the possible loss of 75% of my past posts. You can view our progress here. After we figure out all of the quirks, hopefully, we'll do a complete redesign. With pretty pictures. And plenty of long island ice teas. Mmmmmm....
So bear with me, because, honestly, this site is gonna suck balls for a while.
]]>-Claritin 24-Hour
-Claritin 12-Hour
-Sudafed 12-Hour
-Allegra D
-Giant Strawberry Margaritas
-Shopping at H&M
-Sleeping with my head propped up on 2 pillows
-Eating spicy mexican food
You turn 10 months old next week, and now, and only now, I can say you've been out of my belly as long as you were in it (9 months my ass!). You are truly your own little person now. You have likes and dislikes that are VERY apparent to anyone within a three-mile radius of you. Your likes include avacados, cheerios, feeding yourself, your daddy's giant impression (fee, figh, fo, fum!), sippy cups, Elmo, dogs, cats, making your mad face, being center of attention, wagon rides, ripping off my nose, pulling my hair and your stuffed monkey. Your dislikes include getting your face wiped off, being fed baby food, cuddling on someone else's terms, putting your hair up and being woken up after falling asleep in the car. When someone is dumb enough (how DARE they!) to do any of the above actions they will see your "mad" face, which is a combination of anger, frustration and, I believe, the need to make people laugh. Because, honestly, it is impossible not to laugh at that scrunched up face. Sorry. I know you're angry, and I'll fix whatever you need to be fixed, but first let me wipe the tears from my eyes and catch my breath.
You've started to become a mischeivious little thing, and lordy, and I can hardly keep track anymore. You are always attempting to get into trouble, of course flashing your trademark grin the entire time. You have learned to stand all by yourself and will pull up on anything in order to do so. Today you stood happily by the shelf in the living room, gleefully pulling DVDs off the shelf one by one, until you were sitting in a giant pile on the floor. I didn't mind until you attempted to eat season 2 of Grey's Anatomy. Lucy, we do not eat Mommy's favorite prime time dramas!
Today you showed your standing skills to your cousin, Sloan, who then explained them to me. "I was, like, sitting on the couch and Lucy was, like, standing holding on to it and then I went into the kitchen and then I remembered oh, Lucy! So I, like, went back into the living room and she was, like standing there, and I was like, Mom! She's standing by herself." It sounded very exciting and a bit like Sloan needed to be twirling her gum and wearing a cheerleader outfit.
The closing of this month is extremely difficult for me, as in two short weeks, I will go from stay-at-home/part-time freelancer mom to a full blown working mother. I have spent the last month attempting to come to terms with this change, convincing myself that you will not be royally screwed up because you'll be in daycare each day. Each morning I wake up knowing I'm one day closer to not waking up with you. Instead, you'll be waking up with your daddy while I'm already at the office. I am making this change for our family, so your daddy can make his dream of his own business really come true. I want you to know this is one of the hardest things I've ever done and if I had the chance, I would wake with you each and every day. But we will make it work. I will pick you up at 3 o'clock each day and we'll have wonderful afternoons together. Because, hopefully, it's not the quantity of time I spend with you, but the quality that counts.
Love always,
Mama
I am a golden god.
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