One Year

Peyton turned one today. I can’t believe it! It’s gone by so fast. Everyone said it would and I didn’t ever imagine we would reach this stage.

I can’t believe the changes either. He’s walking and blabbering. He’ll bring me a book when he wants me to read to him. He can climb and descend the stairs on his knees. He will laugh his head off when we do silly things. These are all great milestones! Then there’s also the times he cries when we take something away or say “no.” He throws “tantrums” when he doesn’t get his way. He throws his food on the floor when he’s not interested. Sometimes I wish we could go back!

Today was a great day for a first birthday. Peyton took a 2 hour nap  (a rarity!). The hub and I took off work early, picked up Peyton, and went to dinner. Peyton ate really well (semi-rarity!). We came home and he shoved a chocolate cupcake in his mouth. Then a nice bath and off to bed. I wouldn’t have had it any other way.

Uh-Oh!

Peyton is nearing his toddler years, which makes me sad because I truly enjoyed him as a baby (especially from five-eight months — prior to him crawling like a fiend). I am amazed at how much he’s grown and I have to start reminding myself that he’s a little person now who can start understanding me.

Now, I talk to him all the time, asking him how his day was after I pick him up from daycare.  When I feed him, I’ll point to myself and say, “Mama.” He usually just stares at me blankly. Yesterday, as we walked into the house, I dropped something and said, “Uh-oh.” Peyton looked down and said, “Uh-oh.” I did a double-take.

“Uh-oh,” I said again.

“Uh-oh,” he repeated. Then he didn’t do it again.

A few minutes later, he said it while he was playing. When the hub came home, I declared, “Peyton said his first word!!!” Peyton said it several times last night at dinner (I got it on videotape) and after his bath. Then he greeted me this morning from his crib with, “Uh-oh!”

It’s pretty adorable. But like the hub said, “Yeah, until he starts saying it all the damn time and we get sick of it.” Or — as I realized today in the car driving in traffic — until he starts repeating everything we say and we have to REALLY watch what we say.

Scary Tweens

Wow, if this doesn’t make you scared, I don’t know what does…

It’s the Oil of Olay

I dropped off Peyton at daycare one morning and stopped at the 7-11 for a coffee. I’m back on the wagon despite avoiding coffee for about three years now because Peyton hasn’t been sleeping through the night and now that I’m back at work, it’s kinda hard to function without some caffeine in the system. 

When I was at the cash register, on a whim, I asked for a Mega Millions. I think part of me was hoping that I’d never have to work again. 

The cashier stared at me. “How old are you?” she asked.

“Huh?” I said. What the heck?

“You have ID?” 

“Huh?!?!”

“Are you over 18?” 

“What?!” I started laughing, “Lady, I’m 34!” I showed her my ID anyway.

“Oh,” she laughed. “You look much younger.”

I have been mistaken for being in my 20s before, but never THAT young! I’m glad that all the sleep deprivation hasn’t produced wrinkles like I had feared. I hope this lasts in my 40s!

(Now I’m starting to wonder how many people see me with Peyton and think I’m a young mother?)

Pray For Me

My sister arrived last night at midnight. I had been in bed and the hub went to get her, but for some reason, she called the house and woke me up to let me know she had arrived (even though I told her I’d be asleep and gave her the hub’s cell). So I stayed up to greet her and went to bed around 1 AM. In that hour, she managed to tell me and do the following:

• Ways to improve the baby’s room
• How disposable breast pads are bad
• Make fun of my cankles
• I have to take her to Costco soon
• She thinks my dining room chandelier has been recalled because it can fall off and crash
• Inspect my fridge and comment on the lack of meat
• Shun my plastic wrap because of the “dangers”

All the while my 8-year-old nephew in the background asking tons of questions: “What’s this? Why is this like that? Where’s uncle? Why is he downstairs? What’s that? When’s the baby coming? I’m hungry. I’m thirsty.”

Then I started thinking I didn’t want to have a boy anymore…

I decided to go to bed, thinking they’d quiet down. Nope. My nephew was yelling to my sister across the guest room when she asked him questions… and left the door open.

Now, I’m not a religious person at all. But if you are, pray for the following on my behalf, please:

1. That somehow these next 2 weeks I don’t crack from being with my sister
2. That the baby comes sooner than later, so at least she’ll be so preoccupied, she won’t have time to criticize everything

Nice to Know

As I previously mentioned, I didn’t want a shower at work. Also, I couldn’t put my boss through planning something like that because it would be torture. My boss took it upon himself to ask for donations for a gift card. Well, he told me about it today and a lot of people contributed, and it turned out to be a surprising sum. (I’m quite certain though that half of it was my boss’ contribution.) In any case, we were both surprised by the outpouring of generosity — we didn’t think anyone liked me!

Best Compliment Ever

The nicest thing that anyone’s ever said to me while pregnant was from a stranger.

As I was walking to my car after work, I passed a woman who said to me, “You look beautiful!” “Why, thank-you!” I responded.

It really made my day. I hope to do the same thing in the future when I see a pregnant woman waddling and probably not feeling so hot.

So’s Your Face

Dear General Public,

Yes, Know-it-all Parents, I understand that you think you have so much more knowledge because you have a child or two. But realize, we are different people.

Don’t tell me that just because you did this when you were pregnant, so I should be able to also. Maybe I just don’t want to. Don’t tell me how easy I have it now that the baby’s inside of me. You were pregnant once. You remember how shocking it was to the system? Pregnancies are never easy, so don’t downplay it. And, please, don’t tell me your labor horror stories, or how your pregnancy was with each of your children — right down to what kind of poop they had. I don’t care. I’ve heard hundreds of your stories like yours — what makes you think I want to hear one more? This is why people sell and read books with these stories.

I have no delusions of being a parent. I understand the long days and nights, the sleep deprivation, the upheaval, and that life will change. Please don’t remind me in that patronizing way. It’s not like I’ve never been around babies. I have spent many a days taking care of nephews and nieces — this is probably why it took me so long to start my own family. No matter how much warning you give me, it all goes out the window when it’s real time because I will have to figure out how to deal my way with my baby. Just like pregnancies, all babies are different.

And, if you’re a man, don’t lecture me on making preparations about going back to work. I said I’ll see how I feel. Maybe I’ll want to get away a few times a week from the kid. Maybe I’ll be so torn, I won’t be able to go back. I can’t say right now. So don’t tell me to think carefully and plan it all because you know better than I do, that you can’t always plan your life. Don’t tell me that if I choose to stay home or work part-time, I’ll never be able to go back to work full-time. Maybe that’s your wife. But you don’t know me or how I’ll feel.

To the loser last night at the cafe who wouldn’t move his fat ass from his chair, so I could get out of the restroom even though your friend kept saying, “She’s pregnant.” and I said to you, “I’m pregnant, I think I’ll need more room than that.” — you’re lucky that I was so appalled by your behavior that it didn’t occur to me until later that I should have yelled at you like a banshee and punched you in the face.

And don’t tell me how big I look when you’ve never had a child. And if you’ve had one, you know better than to say that to a pregnant woman.

Standards

My sister, who has three boys, came to visit a year or so ago and left me three boxes of baby things that she didn’t need anymore. I didn’t look into the boxes until this past weekend.

Now, there were definitely some things that screamed “90s,” such as a baby carrier since she had her first child in ‘98. But there were other things that screamed almost 70s-80s, and I wondered where the heck she got this stuff from. More importantly, she told me she had weeded through the things before packing them for me and I think her version of “gently used” and “attractive” are quite different from mine.

Air Assault

I’m convinced that one of the most selfish things people can do is to pollute the air. I don’t give a damn if you’re going to smoke and kill yourself, but don’t go around blowing your stink in my face. I hate it that I have to walk by an entryway and be assaulted by smoke. Do they think smoking outside means by an entryway? How does that protect the rest of us? These people need walk at least a few feet to smoke. Plus the exercise might actually help them.

Another assault on the air I breathe are people who wear tons of perfume. A woman whose cube is next to mine comes in each afternoon smelling like she bathed in this sickingly, heavy perfume. (Thank goodness she’s only part-time.) You know, I could forgive her it was the good stuff, but it’s terrible. It smells like old ladies. I’m now convinced that the perfume is the cause of my watery eyes. My boss even said to me, “Gad, how can you stand it?” I would say it’s my sensitive sense of smell since becoming pregnant, but I couldn’t stand it pre-pregnancy either. Pregnancy has only made me angrier about it.

In my state of anger and annoyance, I consumed an entire jumbo box of Raisinets. I’m not feeling so good now… (at least it was dark chocolate).